why gifts from me are the BEST

This year, even though I've been doing my best to avoid the holidays, I realized that certain people in my life require gifts. It's not that it's a requirement, that I will be shunned if I don't give these people gifts, but if I do not, even if they claim that it isn't important to them, on some level they will feel like maybe I don't love them. And there is no way that I want anyone to feel sad that Santa Kerrie didn't come for them this year.

So, certain people in my life require gifts.

This year, I have been going through some bigtime transitions with my business and my work. I realized that I haven't had a Christmas season when I wasn't working retail, or my husband wasn't working retail, in quite some time. It feels weird. So, I've been feeling a little like I should be hiding in a cocoon. Going shopping was something that I'd rather not do. In fact, I'd rather have major surgery, get my dental work done, do accounting even, if that would get me out of slogging through the pre-holiday crazed crowds. There's something about the mob mentality of a holiday shopping crowd that terrifies me. They stop seeing you as a person, and start to see you as an obstruction. There's none of that mutual getting out of each other's way, so that everyone can look at the tea section, or saying such superfluous words such as "excuse me," or picking up the box of chocolates that the 93 year old woman just dropped. No, no, that kind of crazy behavior was so last month. This month it's about GETTING so you can soon be GIVING.

I'd hate to ruin someone's holiday by getting the last Xbox that their child is dying for, so I decided that the safest thing for me was to stay home. Shop online. Make presents. Give experiences and all that.

I've always been one of the weirder gift givers in my family, anyway. I try so hard not to get something that is on a person's wish list, but that they'll like anyway. Hey, if it's on their wish list, they're kind of expecting it, right? So it's not a surprise. And surprise is what's it's all about for me. I hate surprises in my own life, but ironically I love giving other people surprises. I loved giving my brother-in-law (a serious astrophysicist) a set of glow-in-the-dark stars for his ceiling. I gave my little sister a keydoll (an art doll shaped around a skeleton key) when she moved into her first away-from-home home. I gave my future husband, on our first real date, a squishy rubber brain from Archie McPhee.

Yes, I am one of those annoying gift-givers who will give you something deep and meaningful and probably not at all useful.

This year, I've decided to really, really embrace this trait, and give people gifts that they might just hate, but I enjoy giving a lot. I'm trying not to care if they hate my gifts. Remember last year, the commercials where the poor kids were complaining about yet another lime green handknitted sweater from crazy Aunt Mildred, when they really wanted something from Office Max? My fear has always been of becoming Aunt Mildred. But not this year. This year, I say, who cares. In fact, if I really want to be kind to myself and allow myself to feel the joy of giving, I'm not even going to be tied down to getting people their gifts on a certain day. You might get something in February, on August 2nd, or yes, live through the surprise, but your random gift day might actually fall on a Holiday or on your birthday. Please, try not to faint.

Secondly, this year, I for the first time, have been shyly forcing some crafty items on people in a serious way. Now, if you know me, you may find this hard to believe. It's true, I'm not shy about my handmade stuff, or I don't act shy anyway. My lack of shyness is an act. I'm really shy. Especially about stuff that I don't think I'm "really good at." After all, what if they think it's an ugly green sweater from Aunt Mildred?

I did it though. I knitted things that happened to be ready around the winter holidays. The Taylor side of the family need their presents close to an actual holiday, or they get confused, and they already think I'm weird enough, so I'm trying to honor the real holiday day for them. I love them and don't want to confuse them TOO much. But, I really loved knitting silly mittens for mom-in-law, and a scarf for sister-in-law, and an elf-hat for my baby nephew. Then, surprise surprise, I even knitted scarves for my two little sisters, which also just HAPPENED to be ready around an actual winter holiday. Weird how it worked out, isn't it? Total coincidence, please don't expect such timeliness from me in the future.

I hope that they like them, of course. If they don't, it'll be OK, because they'll be polite and never tell me. I'll never know that they've just start calling me Mildred behind my back.

I don't care, I'm smug, cause I know my gifts are secretly the best.

Prayer Shawls

I have been gifted with a Barnes and Noble gift card.

I don't like Barnes and Noble very much, I really prefer the smaller independent sellers like Secret Garden Books, Epilogue Books and even Powell's if I need a big online catalog. But, I have a gift card, and there's no way I can resist a chance to get some books. I'm addicted to books, see...

So, I'm poking around the Barnes and Noble site for WAY too long, trying to decide what to buy. If it's a book that I know Secret Garden has, I have to wait and get it there. It's this neighborhood ethical thing I am cursed with. But, I come across this book, which I've never seen before, and the title just SINGS to me: Prayer Shawl Ministry by Leisure Arts. (Yes, I linked it to Powell's, not B&N, I confess.) So, I found not a lot of information about what this book really is, and I decided to use the power of google to figure out what it was all about.

This is when I came across www.shawlministry.com

Quoted from the web site:

"Whether they are called: "Prayer Shawls", "Comfort Shawls", "Peace Shawls" or "Mantles" just to name a few; the knitter begins each shawl with prayers and blessings for the recipient.  Intentions are continued throughout the creation of the shawl.  When the shawl is completed it is offered a final ritual before being sent along its way. Some recipients have continued the kindness by making one themselves and passing it onto someone in need. Thus, the blessing is rippled from person to person..."

I think that this is just beautiful. The web site includes a free pattern, tips, symbolism information and a gallery. It does not seem to be religion-specific, although there is talk of prayer and it seems a lot of the suggested prayers are Christian based, so if that kind of stuff makes you queasy, make up your own "prayers" instead.

At the bottom of the page, I found my information about the book by Leisure Arts. It is not affiliated with this web site at all, and the owners of this site take some offense that someone is profiting from a project that is supposed to be given freely to the world. I think I'll pass on the book, and research these prayer shawls a little more on the web first. www.shawlministry.com has a simple pattern that even I can follow, and it's freely given. There are also links to alternative patterns, and ideas on who to make shawls for if you are lucky enough to not know anyone in need of some blessings.

I thought I'd pass it in on to anyone who happens to read my blog. I'm really interested in combining my own strange spirituality with art, and I think that this idea is going to brew in my own brain and maybe something new will come out of it.

What about prayer shawls for a tree, or a hurting location, or to heal after an event? Shawls could be wrapped around a place that needs to be cleansed, or left where the wind can blow it, prayer-flag style, and send your prayers out into the world. Certain materials are biodegradable, so prayer shawls could be set free without worrying about hurting the planet. Hmm. Things to think about.

December 25

I started writing this as a note to a friend, which became a letter, which became almost an essay:

I feel like I’ve been waiting in a kind of zombie state for Christmas to come and go. As if nothing can really happen until Christmas is over, and then my life will begin again.

It’s not like Christmas is a big deal in the Carbary-Taylor household. This is probably my fault, because I don’t want it to be a big deal. I’m more of a Solstice-celebrating born-again pagan than a recovering one-day-a-year Catholic, anyway. I get a spiritual sense when I feel the wind on my face and dancing through my hair much more than I do when I’m sitting through mass. Yes, walking into a church does get to me still, and I admit I do the holy water thing and even consider going to confession, but really it’s only because I always feel so guilty. What better religion for the guilty than Catholicism? If I still believed in it, I could head to confession, get a few prayers and tasks from Father Joe, and live the rest of the day content that I was taking care of spiritual business.

My mixed up jumble of a religion that I’ve fallen into is much more “fun” for the guilty-loving. I believe in karma and what goes around comes around. You have to be good for good things to come to you. It’s just as important to give a Starbuck’s card to the homeless guy that you see every day as it is to give one to the mail carrier. Do unto others and all that. As you can see, this guilty paganism has a downside, too. If bad things are happening to me, did I somehow ask for it—deserve it, even?

I can believe this in an abstract sense, but when you apply it to my own life, or more accurately, to the lives of the people I love, it just doesn’t seem right. In fact, it seems crappy. Why should my husband be mugged? He stopped to give the guys directions, to be helpful to them, and they mugged him. Why is my mother sick? She’s spent her entire life taking care of others. I don’t think she’s ever intentionally been bad to anyone. Definitely not at the level to give her the retribution of a confusing and unknown ailment. I can’t believe that everyone living in New Orleans is somehow bad, and that’s why they suffered so much this autumn. Or that regular people on the other side of the globe did anything to deserve living in fear of suicide bombers. Or even that my little sister deserved to be kicked out of her apartment by a crazy roommate.

So then I have to twist my idea of karma, and think that it falls into the category of “what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger.” Or, maybe it’s just that we’re filling our karma banks for when we really need something good to happen. Maybe these bad things happen so that someone else can do good. I can’t even count the number of times strangers have helped my mother. I think about the people who happened to own boats, going from rooftop to rooftop in New Orleans, picking people up and taking them to safety. People taking entire families into their homes, donating so much money, clothes, supplies to the Red Cross and other charities, even getting in their cars and driving south, hoping to help. Is tragedy created by some force, even some force within ourselves, so that we can shine in dealing with it? So that someone can do good? If there was no tragedy, would there be no good, no people trying to help, trying to be kind, trying to reach out to their fellow humans?

Maybe so. I’m just speculating.

The so-called Christmas season is supposed to be about being good to one another, and a lot of people do use this time of year to donate food, clothes and money to food banks and other charities. Food drives abound. Even the dentist’s office near our house had a food donation bin. As I write this, at least one of our neighborhood’s homeless guys is getting his hot Christmas dinner at a local church. (I know that Will is, because he told me his holiday plans.) Today there are also hundreds of masses to choose from, if you’d like to go to church and be Christian for the day. (I recommend the services at St. James Cathedral—the Nativity scene can’t be beat.) All around the city there are happy families sitting down together, opening presents and catching up and feasting on love and turkey.

I know that there are unhappy families sitting down to dinner too, pretending to be happy, maybe, or maybe they’ve just given up totally and are only going through the motions. There are alcoholic fathers that you have to keep an eye on, so they don’t drink too much too early and let their split personality come out too soon. There are uncles that you hope won’t stop by. There are brothers in rehab or jail, so they can’t be there today. There are grandmothers and grandfathers who won’t stop fighting. Mothers who find fault with their children. Sisters who need a little hit of something to make it through the day. Aunts who shine in their superior perfection. Daughters trying to get everyone to get along. And tiny children who are actually picking up on everything going on around them, much more than anyone could ever guess. Shyly sponging it all up inside of them, sneakily taking more than their share of guilt, but refusing a second serving of mashed potatoes.

For those kids, there’s no karma. No falling asleep so Santa can whisk them away to a magical land where all is well. They have to learn how to make “all is well” for themselves. They learn how to take care of themselves.

Yeah, December has always been hard on me. It’s a month to be lived through. I’ve gotten to the point where I realize this, so at least I don’t think that I’m some kind of a freak in not liking the shopping, the carolers, the overdecorative window displays. Yes, of course sometimes I feel guilty at not liking it, but my difficulties with December combined with working retail at Christmas more adult years than not has made me have to accept that I’m not too interested in Christmas. I love giving gifts, but you know what? I love giving them anytime I please. When I was younger, I loved getting gifts, but as I’ve gotten older I’ve realized that the things I can give myself are much more valuable than a bottle of perfume or a scented basked of fancy soaps.

Right now, I’m working on allowing myself to have a nice day off on Christmas Day. If it doesn’t rain, I’m going for a walk with my wonderful husband. Maybe I’ll draw some in my sketchbook. Then we’re going to watch DVDs of Buffy and Star Wars. I think we’ll have lots of hard cider and wine and cookies. We won’t be going to my parent’s house. I love them dearly; I love my family so much that it hurts, but if they love me they need to learn to understand that I am trying to take care of myself here. There are many times that I have, and will continue to, do things for them for THEM, but today has to be my gift to myself.

Yeah. Merry Christmas.

Paper Ladders

My friend Melanie wanted to know about paper ladders. Melanie, my email to you bounced! Maybe someone else wants to make a paper ladder of their very own, though, to display their decorative papers in their workspace:

I like this simple design very much, and was sorry that I had to throw some out from our store because I couldn't find homes for them!

We made our paper ladders. It was so easy, really. You need two boards, 1x4 or 1x2, whatever wood is a good price. We used pine. Around 6 feet long seems to work best. Then you need dowels or lengths of pipe, fairly thick, but not too thick, because you also need a drill bit to match. Each dowel makes one "rung" of your ladder. 1/2 inch dowels worked best for us (24 inches long), and drill holes slightly larger than 1/2 inch. We varied the distance between holes on different ladders, but usually kept them around 8-10 inches apart. Match up the holes and dowels like tinkertoys, and you have a ladder. A little wood glue in the holes sometimes is necessary to keep them in place.

If you want two ladders to connect together to make an upside down "V" rack, you can drill holes about 2 inches from the top, and bolt them together at the top with big jumbo nuts and bolts from the hardware store.

I also considered mounting just one ladder on the wall, with the base just about a foot from the wall, but the top of the ladder somehow secured to the wall, to save floor space. I just never got around to trying that.

After you assemble them, of course you could paint them or finish them or collage on them or...

Ten Wonderous Gift Ideas (not in order)

Candy! Who doesn't love candy?!? CandyFavorites will fill your need for hard-to-find candies.

English Retreads offers book bags, tote bags, belts, backpacks and handbags hand-crafted from 100% reclaimed inner tubes. Pick out a nice one, they're all pretty cool in my book.

Gaian Tarot, a tarot deck created from original colored pencil paintings by Joanna Powell Colbert. Her art is lovely!

Art quilts, dolls and journals by artist Andi Stern. Andi's work successfully travels the path from whimsical and quirky to deep and powerful. Yes, I hate using the word "whimsical" when describing artwork, it's a BIG pet peeve of mine, but really, really, some of Andi's art IS whimsical. So there.

Archie McPhee in Ballard always is a good source for fun gifts. Honestly, you can find something for everyone at their store. Two of my favorites are:



Bleak Wristbands



and Avenging Unicorn sets. Check out The Cubes® too!

Femail Creations is a favorite business of mine. The one thing (things, actually, because there are two...)that I'm SO tempted by are their "I see Stupid People" and "Is it time for your medication or mine?" mugs. I know several people who need one of these mugs, on OH SO MANY levels.

If one of the above funnies doesn't quite fit, check out Krazycones. They make those tiny little orange traffic cones, printed with the greatest, silliest, funniest sayings, perfect for your desk, bookshelf, dashboard, etc. For example, I like "GOT AN OPINION? FILL OUT THE NECESSARY FORMS" and "TALK TO THE CONE." "NO CELL YELL" is nice, too, but everyone knows that if you're on a cell phone, you never notice anything around you, expecially a cone on someone's desk. Made in the USA, which is always awesome lately.

recycled yarn?!?

I found Yarn Rescue when looking for something else, but wow, Lynnell has some beautiful and amazing stuff for sale. I especially love her business subtitle: "One-of-a-kind Items for the one-of-a-kind Crafter." A kindred business to Turtle Press, I think. If you are yarn addicted, go look at the pretties.

Aw, shucks.

NWsource Convergence Zone

"Two favorite Seattle retailers are closing their doors..."

Hear that? "Favorite." I'm all sappy.

So Long, Farewell...

Before:



After:







Tell me, ghost experts, are those ghosts or just dustbunnies?

We did feel presences there as we finished up, but then again, we were both pretty out-of-it, so it could have been our own sentimental loopinesses.

Anyway, Turtle Press Store is really closed. Now we just have to unpack the boxes that stuff (and I mean STUFF) every tiny space in our office and outpost. Right now there's not even room for one person to stand, never mind two!

Number 2

Moving our store
on Black Friday
with the flu
in the drenching rain
is the second most horrifying thing that I've done in quite a while.

(Number 1 was my surgery three years ago.)

We have another fun day of moving tomorrow, though, so I'll be optimistic. Maybe tomorrow will be more horrifying!

OK, I AM horrified but cheerful, I admit.

Today

The Turtle Press Store



Our window, showing the famous "You are creative, yes you are," "all people are welcome here" and our People's Pick award certificate. I'm taking them all to the outpost tomorrow, so thought you might like one more peek.

Oh, the skeleton head decoration is Scott's. :)

three days left

Our sign.

I am happy and sad. There are people I will miss. But we're having clearance sales, and such opportunities to buy things on SALE seem to bring out the annoying traits in some people. So, I'm glad that the clearance sales will be over, but nostalgic that the store is closing.

Our landlord's broker at one time called this sign craftish and used as an example to prove that I was "cluless" about signage. Sheesh. Yes, this still hurts my feelings. It is a good sign!

Something that would really suck for someone

It would really suck for the people who work in the Matador kitchen, who play their Tex-Mex opera music TOO loudly all day, clang and bang pots and pans, and refuse to turn their radio down no matter how many times we ask, if we were to put the horribly addictive It Ain't Gonna Suck Itself by Cracker on a CD, on continuous loop, and left it playing at a #9 volume on our boombox, after we have moved out of our store.

Yes, it would really be sad for them.

(I just want some quiet from the kitchen area, that's what drives me to such thoughts...)

Yarnrise

yarnrise
Originally uploaded by bluelemonmango.

Someday this wonderous yarn will be a sweater.
I have never made myself a sweater before...

when I was a teenager I made sweaters for my two little sisters, but I don't remember them turning out too well. Little sisters happily wore them anyway. Good sports, my little Ks. Plus I am lucky that they love me so much.

Knitting calms me down. I'm not sure if it actually lowers my blood pressure, but I'm so anxious lately that anything will help. So, I'm going to try to make a sweater.

This yarn really is lovely.

JIMMY BUFFETT — ( Last Mango in Paris Lyrics )

My Last Mango has nothing to do with this Last Mango. Just saying.
JIMMY BUFFETT — ( Last Mango in Paris Lyrics )

Then again, maybe I'm mistaken. Maybe it ALL has to do with Jimmy Buffett. What do YOU think?

Chickadee, Bunny and Bear (a little story for your Thursday morning)

Once upon a time a bunny, a chickadee, and a big brown bear lived in a lovely rainforest.

Bunny and Chickadee loved to play together, and would often chase each other through the forest. Chickadee would hide in the leaves in the trees, where Bunny couldn't go, and Bunny would hide in the brush and leaves on the forest floor, where Chickadee was too scared to go.

Bear would go anywhere, but preferred to gorge on blackberries and then take naps. Bear didn't understand why Chickadee wanted to constantly be hopping from tree to tree, and Bear could not understand Chickadee's language. Whenever Chickadee spoke, Bear only could hear the same song, and Bear didn't understand the nuances in her "Chick-a-dee-dee-dee." Chickadee also didn't understand Bear, and how he could sleep away so much of the lovely afternoon, because he had eaten too many blackberries. Chickadee thought that there was so much to do and see, how could she waste time napping?

And Bunny didn't really understand either of them. Bunny was nervous of Bear, but felt like they must have some things in common. After all, they both had smooth, soft fur, and they both didn't completely understand Chickadee. Whenever Bunny and Bear met, Bunny and Bear realized that they didn't have much in common after all. However, Bunny did love to play with Chickadee, and they spent many wonderful afternoons together.

One day, Bunny and Chickadee decided to help each other build nests. Work shared is work halved, they thought. So they came up with a plan. They'd work on Chickadee's nest in the morning, and Bunny's nest in the evening. Chickadee would wake before dawn every morning and bustle about, building her nest. She wouldn't wait for Bunny to start work, so she didn't notice that Bunny wasn't showing up to help until late afternoon. Then, they'd work on Bunny's nest.

Soon, Bunny's nest was finished. Chickadee's nest was much smaller, but had quite a bit of work left to make it ready. "Your nest is more complicated," Bunny complained. "This is why my nest is finished and yours is not. Besides, I have a lot of work to do still to make my nest comfortable. When I'm finished, I'll help you build your nest again."

Chickadee was confused how it could have worked out like this, but Bunny seemed to have a plan. Chickadee knew in her heart that there was something not quite right going on, but she couldn't sort it out. Besides, she didn't really have time to think about it too much. She had so much work to do. He was right, her nest WAS more complicated. If she had been content with a simpler nest, things would have been better. Now it was going to snow soon, and she wouldn't have a nest to protect her from the cold.

Sure enough, the next day, it snowed. Chickadee huddled in her unfinished nest, greeting the winter with shivers.

Bunny played in the snow and wondered where his friend Chickadee was. She would love this snow!

Bear slept and wondered how anyone could want to do anything BUT sleep.

Finally, Chickadee had an idea. She would snuggle in Bear's fur, until she was warm enough to work on her nest again. She snuggled closely and quietly, soaking up his warmth. She was very, very quiet, and she didn't wake him up. When she sensed that it was time for him to wake up from his blackberry dreams, she quickly flew away. She felt so clever! Bear never suspected!

One day, Chickadee arrived at Bear's cave, only to see Bunny already snuggling in her place. "What are you doing here?" she whispered. "My nest has been filled in with snow," Bunny admitted. "I was cold."

Chickadee was furious. "You're going to wake up Bear!"

But it was too late. Bear's great eyes opened, and he let out a surprised growl. "What do you want?" he demanded.

Bunny and Chickadee knew that Bear was very crabby when he woke, so they were terrified. Bunny tried to hide behind Chickadee. Chickadee tried to make herself even smaller than her normal tiny size. Bear huffed and growled.

"Why didn't you TELL me that you were cold, you stupid little creatures?!"

Chickadee and Bunny didn't know what to say. Finally, Chickadee spoke, "We were afraid of you, afraid that you'd be angry with us."

Bear, of course, didn't understand Chickadee. "WHAT!" he raged.

Chickadee tried to speak more clearly. "We were afraid that you'd be mad at us!"

Bear rolled his eyes and pushed past Chickadee and Bunny. It was no use. They never spoke in a language he could understand. Chickadee's peeping enraged him, and Bunny's silence was just annoying. Didn't they see that he had been trying to sleep?

Bear stomped out of his cave into the winter, leaving Chickadee and Bunny to wonder what to do. After a few moments, Bunny snuggled into the warm spot that Bear had left. Chickadee, though, felt too scared and upset, so she flew away to the tattered remains of her nest. "It's really not so bad here," she thought. "At least I have part of a nest, and my nest isn't filled with snow!"

Time

Yes, I have spent way too much time tonight housecleaning and redecorating my blog. It's not perfect still. I HAD to get rid of those brown flower things. But I'm letting it go as good enough. I'm getting too old for such multiple-hour long online obsessions.

Next time I'll just spend those hours writing or making art, I promise.

The coolest bag EVER

Bi-Coastal Bag - Accessories - KAVU

I have been on quest for such a bag, and finally treated myself after visiting this one at the Ballard Kavu for at least two months. I like it very much.

I am a bag junkie, but I think it's just that I haven't found the perfect bag yet. Hopefully this bag will end my bag quest addiction.

Oh, Chambray of course. Copper almost had me, but Chambray won out.

eBay and Halloween

I know I'm not the only compulsive collector of zines out there, so I thought I might tell you that I'm putting some zines and magazines up on ebay:

eBay: The STUDIO ZINE Issue 16 "an odd little art journal" (item 6985756040 end time Nov-06-05 19:58:46 PST)

to help raise money for my upcoming leap of faith. :)

I'm an idiot, though, and goofed the title of this one. It's supposed to be Issue 6, not 16. I've probably cheated myself out of millions with that typo. Sigh.

Now, about Halloween. Happy Halloween!

At 4-6 we will be invaded by miniature vampires, ghosts, Harry Potters, Deathly Skeleton things, bumblebees, fairy princesses, pirates, zombies, and who knows what else. Maybe I'll keep a list. We'll also be invaded by not-so-miniature versions of these guys, trying to slip into the "up to age 12" trick-or-treat category that is welcome on Market Street and Ballard Avenue this afternoon. Last year we gave out something like 50 pounds of candy. I think we have a little less than that this year, so I'm hoping we don't run out. There could be chaos if we do. Anyway, anyone who is in Ballard and wants a shift at handing out the candy is welcome. Even 5 minutes is hard work, though! I do think we have the best candy ever... we have some gumballs that are shaped and colored like eyeballs, with a cherry gooey center. They really give me the creeps. Of course, we also have the traditional chocolate and witch's warts (which I was against, knowing many witches, none of whom have sour neon colored warts, thank you very much, but Scott liked the idea of them, so...) and even some plebian kit-kats. With almost all the stores in Ballard taking part, there will be much candy had by all and many little monsters with sugar rushes tonight.

big business news...

Hello.

I have some Big News to tell you about. We’ve not been sure how to announce this, because whatever we decided to do was going to be difficult to not only decide, but also tell folks about. This is a good decision for us, though. We are happy with it. Happy AND sad (or happysad as my friend Maggie used to say…) I felt like I should post about this here, too, because I know that a few of our customers actually read my boring blog, too! Heh.

After 6 1/2 years of having a shop in Ballard, we are closing the Turtle Press Studio & Store. We will still be able to bring you all the creativity you need, through our web site (http://www.turtlearts.com). We'll also have a smaller Outpost that will be open by appointment, or for "will call" pickups for orders you place by phone or through the web site. So, we'll definitely still be around. We just won't have the store part of our business anymore. Feel free to call, email, or stop us on the street if you need anything from us.

Why are we doing this? I know that if you're like me, you maybe smell gossip and want to know. :) Well, there are quite a few reasons, and if you ask, on any given day or hour I might tell you a different reason, but the main one is that our lease is up on our space, and we are unwilling to go along with the insanity of raising rents for storefront spaces right now. That's not to say that we'll never have a storefront again. But, for now, we're going to focus on the mail order side of the business, on selling to other stores, and on our magazine. We have plans for other projects in the works, too, so stay tuned.

So, we're consolidating some of our offerings quite a bit, and expanding some a whole lot too. We'll still be offering, in our Outpost or through mail order all of our own products, such as alphabet rubber stamps, collage supplies, recycled paper products, Tree Hugger blank books, a selection of environmentally friendly art supplies, and other treats. Other stuff we're going to be clearing out, and we'll be able to give you some great deals this month on art supplies, rubber stamps and supplies, books, markers, and some surprises. Our last day open will be November 23rd (or so).

It’s been wonderful to have met so many of you through our storefront, and we hope that we’ll still be able to see you around Ballard or in the mail. It is bittersweet to close the store and turn over a new leaf in our business. Remember that we’ll still be around, online or at our Outpost. We’ll put details of our Outpost up on our web site as soon as it’s ready. And, we’ll be happy to meet you at the Outpost whenever you’re visiting Ballard and need a Turtle Press Fix.

For now, we hope we’ll see you at our moving sale. Everything in our store will be 10-70% off, with new and different sales every day. Stop by and stock up!

It’s been an honor serving you, Turtle Press Friends. :)

I'll always be here, too, if you need me.

Answer (to every question, maybe)

Answer: "Identity: We must see a document in the name you want shown on the card. The identity document must be of recent issuance so that we can determine your continued existence."

One standing there is not suitable proof of continued existence. Nor is the fact that credit card companies continuously send you "preapproved gold card!!!" offers. Nor is the fact that your feet hurt. Continued existence is further not proven by having paid your library fines, by answering your cel phone, or by being able to recite all 50 states in alphabetical order.

An ID card from the Secret Girls Club that you have served as founder, president, and sole member since age 6 is not recent enough proof of existence, unless your membership has been updated in the last month, and your membership card contains a recent photo as well as the signed pledge, "I promise I will never kiss a creature that likes to touch frogs and bugs and play in the mud! Boys are gross and germy and have cooties and will never be allowed into the Secret Girls Club."

ah hah!

This has been driving me nuts for the last two weeks, trying to track down this spoken word song from which I could only remember a few words at a time...nobody knew what I was talking about. Well, I have found it. Now, does iTunes have it?

The lyrics to Everybody's Free to Wear Sunscreen, by Mary Schmich:

Wear sunscreen.

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've faded. But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine.

Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday.

Do one thing every day that scares you.

Sing.

Don't be reckless with other people's hearts. Don't put up with people who are reckless with yours.

Floss.

Don't waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind. The race is long and, in the end, it's only with yourself.

Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.

Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old bank statements.

Stretch.

Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don't.

Get plenty of calcium. Be kind to your knees. You'll miss them when they're gone.

Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else's.


Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of it or of what other people think of it. It's the greatest instrument you'll ever own.

Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.

Read the directions, even if you don't follow them.

Do not read beauty magazines. They will only make you feel ugly.

Get to know your parents. You never know when they'll be gone for good. Be nice to your siblings. They're your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.

Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft. Travel.

Accept certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise. Politicians will philander. You, too, will get old. And when you do, you'll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders.

Respect your elders.

Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund. Maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know when either one might run out.

Don't mess too much with your hair or by the time you're 40 it will look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth.

But trust me on the sunscreen.

Diet help...

The Sneeze - Half zine. Half blog. Half not good with fractions.

Don't go to this web site unless you don't want to be hungry. For a while. Really.

A crazy week

It has been, very very crazy.

I am channeling all of my anger into dealing with the leaves that keep blowing into our store. I love autumn leaves, don't get me wrong. I just hate them blowing all over the place and trying to trip people. Also, I'm a tiny, tiny bit tired of sweeping them all, then 10 minutes later having a new batch to deal with.

This goes on all day. I love trees, I love the beautiful leaves, but this is my message to the universe. Please only send half of those leaves into our store.

Thank you.

Everything you ever need to know...

By people who may or may not be telling the truth. :)

FAQ Farm: Question & Answer Co-Op

Truth does have many layers, after all, just like Shrek.

Green for Good, LLC - Products / Office Supplies

If you love recycled things, check out Green for Good. I can't believe some of the things they have here! I love the handbags, of course (since I'm having a girly phase), but they also have recycled scissors, and all sorts of other cool stuff.

I want to BE Green for Good when I grow up.

I shouldn't soapbox at midnight...

We were just able to donate some money to Pasado's Safe Haven, to help with all of their amazingly GOOD work, including some fantastic rescue work right now in New Orleans. Thank you to the people who bought stuff at our store on hurrican relief Tuesday (September 20th), because we gave 10% of our sales that day to the Red Cross and Pasado's Safe Haven. We have a collection can at our cash register, too, for loose change, which we matched donationwise. We don't have much cash right now, but we felt like it was so important to give what we could.

Another thing I've been trying to do even more than usual is support the small guys. Small businesses are always good to support ANYTIME, not just when so many are struggling. You never know when your tiny order might make all the difference in the world to a small, small biz. That microbiz may have been hit by a hurricane-level disaster, or the owner may have been sick and unable to work, or they may just be struggling because of bigger things, like the world economy.

Yeah, I have a small biz, so I'm biased. I can personally promise you that a $5 or even $2 purchase does make a difference, though. So tomorrow, instead of hitting the coffee shop whose name rhymes with "Megabucks," try the small coffee shop on the corner. Instead of going to one of the fast food restaurants that can be recognised just by the giant glowing yellow first initial of their name, try the deli down the street. And, even if you've always, always bought a "Joke" Cola (and I love it too, especially the diet cherry cola...), give a local juice company a chance. You get the idea. Put your dollars to work to support the little businesses that you really like.

There, sorry, soapboxing over. I think I need some sleep.

Rules for Today

1. If the door doesn't open when you push on it, don't push again. It may just be locked.

2. If you have tripped over something more than once in one day, move the item, or walk a different way.

3. If something tastes bad or is making you feel bad, stop eating it.

4. Eat chocolate at least once a day.

5. If your cat is staring at you, there's probably a reason. Research.

6. Don't worry about it too much, you probably DID lock the door, turn off the burner, or put the ice cream back in the freezer. After all, how many times have you caught yourself forgetting?

7. You don't really need to watch the News every day. If something big happens, they'll catch you up on it tomorrow.

7a. Unless you are in an area that gets severe weather, or you saw lots of news vans down the street from your apartment...

8. If you have bad feet, don't wear flip-flops under any circumstances. Really.

9. Breathe. More. Deeply.

10. Sometimes it's better to be late than to bounce a check.

All sorts of ways to stop getting junk mail.

Unsolicited Mail, Telemarketing and Email: Where to Go To “Just Say No”

I worry about asking to be removed from lists. Maybe it'll get me more junk mail than I ever had before? But this list is on the FTC web site, so unless it's a government conspiracy, probably all of these methods are OK.

If I can get those credit card companies to stop sending me those preapproved card offer thingies, I'll probably save at least a tree a year. So there.

Needles & Pens

I hear that if you're in San Francisco, you should go here:

Needles & Pens * DIY Goods * Zines * Art Gallery * San Francisco

Alas, I am not in San Francisco, so I've never been there. But it does indeed look quite cool!

A Historical Blog Moment

I know, I'm a blogbaby compared to most of you.

This morning I had my first official "meet with someone in real life, who I don't know at ALL, but he acted like he knew me because he reads my blog" moment. It was kind of weird.

So today I'm thinking about how I never meant to have a blog, really... it just happened. I never meant to own a store, either, and swore I never would ever, ever ever. And here I am, so you just never know what might happen, huh?

Abraham Lincoln: First Inaugural Address

Abraham Lincoln: First Inaugural Address. U.S. Inaugural Addresses. 1989

I bet you haven't read it. I hadn't until just now.

Ballard Crows

Gathering on the Ballard Building, where we have an office. They commute to Discovery Park where they live, I think, every afternoon.

Snoqualmie Falls Pug

Yes, we did leave SEATTLE for an exciting afternoon. It was kind of weird not to work for an entire afternoon.

We did talk about the business, though, alas.

Suddenly, it's all clear to me as I remember something...

1. Pickles is a cat, the main character in this book that my dad had to read to my little sisters at least 5,000 times.

2. Mr. Bigglesworth is a cat, a supporting character in Austin Powers.

3. Mr. Picklesworth is the "new name" of Pussen, my sister's cat, who my parents have adopted when sister moved to Rochester.

4. My parents are much more clever than I know, and I realize this every time I talk to them. Don't tell them I said that, though. They'll think I respect them or something.

for Katie

Katie, Turtle says hi. She misses you!

My flowers from the Ballard Sunday Market

Only $5!
Buy yourself flowers, I highly recommend it.

Ever have one of those days where you wake up and everything feels like it's about 5 inches off center? Like the world was sent through the photocopier too many times.

No, I don't have a hangover or anything. Just this weird, out of sorts feeling.

It would help if I did not have insomnia, and have to either take ambien or lay there in bed worrying for hours until I can fall asleep, and then, at around dawn, when I really, really, start to SLEEP, the construction dudes that are building an evil building Right Behind our apartment show up and start pounding and making as much noise as they can. I know that they start before the allowed time- Seattle has noise laws- but what do you do?

I really need some quiet time to just finish some of these hundreds of things I have to do.

I dreamt weird dreams last night, er, this morning I mean, before the construction dudes showed up. In one, I kept seeing Northern Flickers everywhere, flocks and flocks of them. In another, my husband was getting ready to go play Mr. Potato Heads with his manfriends. It's his fault that I was thinking about Mr. Potato Heads, because he was telling me about Darth Tater:

I wonder if I'll get in trouble for linking to that...

But anyway, that combined with watching The Empire Strikes Back last night, for my "night off," was a dangerous combination. No wonder I have insomnia.

Not sure where the Northern Flickers come in, though.

PS: They're a bird, in case you didn't know.

Getting Organized

Alas.

It takes up way more room to be organized than it does to be disorganized.

Panic part two

Panic is also turning your computer on, and nothing happens.

Apparently it only needed to know I love it and will cry if I think it has died, because now it's working fine.

What Panic Is

Panic is tearing piles apart looking for your IRS extension form that must be sent in, and then, after freaking out about it for quite a while, remembering that in fact you already sent it in.

Ballard Pug on his way through the Locks

Weird thought of the day (mine)

Just because you see Jesus and he tells you what to do doesn't mean you're insane.

Just because you're insane doesn't mean you have to see Jesus.

And, finally, just because you're not insane doesn't mean you don't see Jesus.



Yes, having a store right next to a bus stop teaches me a lot about the human condition and more interestingly, what the human condition talks about.

silly ideas

I'm supportive of other people's stupid ideas, so sheesh, really, they should at least pretend to be supportive of mine, right?

Little sister, when I tell her my plan of living on the top of a mountain in an apple orchard, says:

"OK, well, good luck with that."

I do love her, but she's not getting any free cider, so there.

I'm suddenly obsessed by the idea of brewing my own hard apple cider...

Yeast Selection for the Production of Hard Cider in Canada

Brewing your own Cider

Books on Cidermaking

Recipes

Home brew cider and hard cider


Maybe I'll run away to live in a cabin in the middle of an apple orchard somewhere on the top of a mountain, and pick apples to press into lovely apple juice, then create my own cider for my next life. My cider brewery would be called "Apple of My Eye Ciderworks" and we'd have a pet pony named Granny Smith who would help by cleaning up any wayward apples that had falled from the tree too soon. Wait, that part might be too cute. We'll name the pony Roma, after my family's border collie lab mix dog who died earlier this year. Yeah. In between making batches of ciders, I'll create lovely photographs of the apple trees and sit in the shade and work on my computer. And draw comics. And knit.

We'll have internet, phone lines, electricity, of course, even though it'll be in the middle of nowhere. Hey, this is my fantasy, I'm allowed a pony and internet.

I wonder if I could make carmel apple hard cider?

OK, I'll confess

I'm confessing right now. I'm behind on a lot of things that I need to not be behind on. I'm trying really hard to get caught up. But "caught up" is a deliciously ambiguous phrase, isn't it? So is "make time." You think you're so busy that you don't have time for anything, but then the world throws even more at you, and you realize that you had TONS of time before, but NOW, well, now you don't have enough time. And sometime in the future you realize you have even less time to do more things.

Time, yeah, that's a weird word too.

It's taken me 60 seconds to write this. I obviously should have been working on one of the five hundred things I need to not be behind on. Whatever is the immediate crisis gets first billing in the time wars, of course, but somehow, lately, no matter how much I work - 12, 14, 15, 16 or more hours a day - I still end up freaked out at midnight because I haven't gotten everything done that I need to.

I'm not talking SHOULD, here. We're long past just letting the unnecessary things go because I can get to them "later." We're talking necessary things, that aren't getting done by midnight.

It's a horrible dilemma, because time also equals money, or so my grandpa always said. If he was still alive, I'd ask him, do you mean free time, or time you put into things? If it's free time, no wonder I'm broke. If it's time you put into work, well, then, WHY am I broke, anyway?

Too much thinking about it. I've wasted 263 seconds on it already.

Yeah, yeah, progress is good...

There is now construction going on directly behind our apartment, and directly to the right, and two big mega buildings being built at the end of the block to the left. I am surrounded by noise. It makes it very hard to think straight.

Not a Cat Person - the Official Meows Page

One of the cool zines we sell at our store has a new web site: Not a Cat Person - the Official Meows Page

There could be so much more, I wish there was more, but I'm excited at the Cafepress Store, where you can get a T-shirt that says, "hello, excuse me, could you please not do that?" I need one, I think.

43 Things

43 Things

This is a really interesting idea. Anyone want to trade lists?

Of course, I have to put "make 43 things list" at the top of my list, but then I'll be almost all set.

I just realized...

I have a premature elderly person to take care of!

(my mom)

She is only 52 years old. She's too young to be elderly. But because of her health problems, she's a preemie elderly.

Yet, she's too young for old people resources, too young for assisted living, too young for so many things. Just like a premature baby.

So, there. I might have to start a support group for people who take care of preemie elderlies, just so I can get support.

MoveOn's Movie List

I have a love/hate relationship with MoveOn. I like a lot of the stuff they go for, but I get overwhelmed by the daily requests for petition signing, donation-giving, and please host a neighborhood party guilt. I do! I admit it, I have political guilt.

The MoveOn Movie List is a great reference, though. I'm going to print it out and see how many I've seen, and start to work my way through the rest.

I love the internet

Foot pain (click where it hurts, and find out why!)

guilt

My mom falls. She does this too often, and I don't know what to do to help her not fall. Handrails won't help, because she loses strength in her arms.

Today she fell badly and my resident family ended up calling 911 after she was stuck for a good part of the day, away from the phone and help.

I am not resident family, I had no way of knowing she was in trouble, so why do I feel so terribly guilty?

I shouldn't. I do what I can for her.

But I have more guilt on my own (because of my recovering Catholicism?) than anyone else could ever dish up for me. About this and a million more things, indeed.

So there. :P

Thank you

Thank you to the anonymous person who posted about baby heads. Because of you, I was able to secretly complete this hat for my new nephew:




Which surely has arrived on his little head by now, so it's safe to post.

eBay item 7330457717 (Ends Jun-24-05 17:59:45 PDT) - PROLIFIC PERSONAL 41 DIARY SET - 1892 - 1939 N.Y.

If I had $1000, I would buy these:

eBay item 7330457717 (Ends Jun-24-05 17:59:45 PDT) - PROLIFIC PERSONAL 41 DIARY SET - 1892 - 1939 N.Y.

the view

The view from the window in the back of our apartment, before this week...



The view from the window in the back of our apartment, today.



In one day, they demolished the lovely old house that was on the other side of our block. We should have seen it coming—they pulled up all of the trees in the mini-orchard back there late last year. Something was happening, but there was no way to tell what. No signs warning us, no “Notice of Proposed Land Use Action.” Just a bulldozer one morning.

I feel surrounded by construction, claustrophobic at all of the construction that is going on in my neighborhood. I'll never be a millionaire because I just don't understand the desire to make money by knocking down an old, personable, quaint (yes, I used "quaint") and lovely house, with a back yard, fruit trees, swingset and HISTORY, to make room to "subdivide into four/six lots for resale or lease....townhouse/condominium construction preapproved..." Townhouses. Condos with mixed-use retail and parking garage and health club and five trees planted on the roof to make nice with the green laws. Thank you very much, that is so serene to those of us down here. I'm sure the neighborhood sparrows will just head up to perch on your topiaries and the squirrels will nest in your ivy sprigs and the swallows will enjoy the little buggies that have been attracted by your chlorine-filled seasonal naturalistic fountain

Yes, I realize that we need more housing. Yes, I realize that people deserve to spend their money as they see fit, after all, they worked hard for that money, dammit. But this algae-bloom of townhouses is not good for the future of our neighborhoods or even for our society. And condos—sheesh. A condo costs as much as a house did a few years ago, and this is for a little closet in a huge building, situated on a manila folder street, where you have to warn your friends who can't find you, "Remember, it's the one with the organic eggshell trim, not the one with the buttercream scone trim! No, no not that one, can you tell that that color is mocha latté? Can't you tell the difference between ORGANIC EGGSHELL and MOCHA LATTÉ???"

Whatever happened to the fixer-upper little house with a white picket fence (cheap white that was on sale, who cares whether it's eggshell or cloud or cream) and a little yard with a flowerbed and maybe even a tree or two? Doesn't anyone want that anymore? And if they, like me, DO want that, why are they settling for a cube in a particleboard palace?

Seattle doesn't need more housing. We need better housing. We need incentives to keep our historical buildings, whether they are historical because Jimi Hendrix slept there or because you got dressed for your first day of school there.

Money is the object, though, and developers are going to keep knocking down our childhood memories as long as they can come away with some cash. So, what do we do?

Stop paying them to take away our city’s history, and tell them that it’s no good to create neighborhoods painted in all the shades of taupe. We need to buy the old houses ourselves, fix them up instead of tearing them down, maybe even divide them up into triplexes to make more rooms for families and young couples and all of these housing-hungry condomaniacs. Live with your friends instead of buying a condo. Rent a studio apartment and spend lots of time in local coffeehouses and INTERACT with one another. Paint your house purple. Be an individual.

It’ll cost a wee bit more than a townhouse that is prewired for Wi-Fi and comes with a sauna and a two square foot balcony that will just fit a topiary. But just think, which place will feel like a home in ten years, and which choice will just feel like a place to live? That is hopefully incentive enough.

The main difference between my sister and I

K3, youngest sister, took my mom for her weekly appointment with Dr. Woo this week.

K3 will only go if she gets a massage from the massage therapist who works in the same building as Dr. Woo.

K1 (me) is amazed that the audacity of K3.

And to think of all those times that K3 bit the tips off of K1's lipstick, and K1 never demanded anything special in return.

A massage. Sheesh.

The sorrows of being the eldest sister...

a question if there's anyone out there who knows...

does anyone who happens to read this know how big, in inches, the average baby head is? I need to know and can't ask the baby, or the parents, because the reason I need to know is a surprise.

Ah hah!

Today I took my mom to see Dr. Woo and all went as planned! We were on time. I worked on my computer while I waited. I was able to get her wheelchair to fit in the trunk of her car. All was well. Except when she poured her caramel macchiato all over me. But no day is perfect.

Meatloaf that will change your life

I'm not really a meatloaf person. I'm not too much of a red meat person, actually. But, oh, my god.

CASCIOPPO BROTHERS is my new favorite-place-to-go-after-dealing-with-mom for an easy-to-cook dinner treat. Meatloaf comes home, goes in oven, bakes for a while, and whee! Almost instant "real dinner."

It doesn't even have anything I'm allergic to in it... I don't think.

Adaptable

Today

Today I slept through the appointment I was supposed to meet my mom for. Sheesh. At least I was not a necessary party to it, since it was at her own house and my sister was there, too.

Also, I would just like to use my blog to scream at the universe,

"HELLO! Enough of the crappy economy! Ballard could use some help here!"

That's all.

Somewhere, someone in Seattle is getting a great photo of a rainbow WITH lightning

Just the rainbow for us, though, and thunder in the distance.

Chocolate Chip Cookies to save the world

3/4 cup sugar (a mix of white and brown- more brown makes softer cookies)
1/2 cup margarine
1 tsp (or more) vanilla. The more vanilla, the better.
1/4 - 1/2 cup of applesauce (organic, unsweetened is best)
1 1/2 cups flour (wheat, spelt, rice. almost any kind will work)
1/4 cup oatmeal
if you addicted to chocolate, substitute some of the oatmeal for powdered sweetened baking chocolate, or hot cocoa mix
1/4 tsp salt
1/2 tsp baking soda
chocolate chips - lots! (about half a bag seems good)

Mix it all together. No fancy mixers necessary, just a wooden spoon. Spoon out and glob onto the cookie sheet cookies that are about the size of a ping-pong ball. Don't roll them, though, that's way too organized. No little wimpy teaspoon sized cookies here- if you get more than 16 out of this batch, you're lucky.

Bake at 350 degrees for 11-13 minutes.

Everyone should eat some chocolate chip cookies today.

my mom and Dr. Woo

I guess I haven't posted much about my mom here, and a few people were asking what the heck I was talking about, when I posted that she was sick.

I've always been, well, the Big Sis of the family, and so whining is not my way. Big Sisters take care of everyone, and try to complain very little. Of course, we often end up with lots of problems as a result, but never mind that... we'll get to that someday in between now and my nervous breakdow.

(just kidding, Big Sisters are DEFINITELY not allowed nervous breakdowns!)

Anyway, yes, my mom is very sick. It started several years ago when (possibly) mercury poisoning started to give her parkinson's-like symptoms, and the latest in the adventure is her botched spinal surgery. In between and ongoing are neurological problems, motor problems that are most likely caused by neurological problems, and of course tons of side effects to all of the medications she's on. Anyone out there a neurologist who wants a side project?

Who is Dr. Woo? He is the only doctor who she feels takes care of her. He has an office in Kirkland. He's a naturopath, specializing in accupuncture. Really, he's the only doctor that never pushed her off onto another doctor when he was stumped, and he is SO nice to her that I think he must be a saint. The medical doctors don't seem to be doing much for her, and can't even agree on what's wrong with her, but Dr. Woo just keeps on helping her, like the guardian angel that he is.

Helping mom as much as I'd like is very difficult, since I work so many hours. I do what I can, but the guilt of this recovering Catholic follows me around whenever I'm not helping... and even when I am helping, but my heart isn't in it.

So, there's the bare-bones of it. I've done a comic zine called dealing with mom, that explains a lot of the mercury poisoning and other misc. stuff, including lots of family that will embarrass anyone who's related to me. For sale or trade.

overdose of cute!

I don't like cats, really, very much at all. Except for my cats. And the cats of friends. And cats that happen to come up to me on the street. And cats that I see in house windows.

Yeah, only those cats.

Warning, kittenwar.com
is addictive.

Buy Blue

Buy Blue

Just so you know where your money goes...

alas (part two)

Alas, it did not go as planned, even with the rules. We didn't get out of the house or get to see the doctor.

and more dealing with mom...

Today is Day One of the new rules for taking mom to see Dr. Woo.

Today, the following rules take effect. And, less you think that I am a bad daughter for making such rules, each and everyone one of these rules has been put in place for a specific reason. Also, I'm sure that each and every one of these rules will be argued by the end of the day.

1. My dad must leave the car. I have no car, and will not be able to rent a car to take my mom to the doctor.
2. There must be a regular schedule of the appointments.
3. There will be only one event on doctor day, and that is going to to doctor. No side trips that end up taking longer than the actual doctor's appointment.
4. I will be allowed to work on my laptop while mom is in the doctor's office. I have lots of work to do.
5. Mom will not harass me to get a massage when I don't want one.

Sounds reasonable, yes? We'll see how it goes.

TV-B-Gone From Cornfield Electronics

TV-B-Gone From Cornfield Electronics

I love this. I'm going to get one.

I wish they made them for stereos and boomboxes.

the cat

Turtle the cat has kitty arthritis, apparently. She is suddenly so pathetic, and limps around and meows.

Of course, lately I've been feeling sore, too. I feel like limping around and meowing. It seems like it might be a little cathartic.

Question of the Day - Air America Apology: Enough or Get Tough?

I can't believe that this is getting so much attention. WHY???

First FOX claims that nobody listens to Air America. Fine. But if Air Americal has so few listeners, as the people who are so upset the Randi Rhodes show claim, why do they get so upset over a short bit on her show? Hmm, if so many people heard the bit and were upset by it, her ratings must actually be incredible...

Maybe it gets tacky sometimes, but come on, people. Focus on something that really matters. Focus on preventing real violence against women, children, and minorities and victims of hate crimes. Then worry about a comedy bit, after you've solved all of THOSE problems.

FOXNews.com - FOX & Friends - Question of the Day - Air America Apology: Enough or Get Tough?

Sigh.

I don't like Rush, but...

I wouldn't want Armed Forces Radio to only play the voices of liberals, either. Here's to balance in the media...

Radio for the Troops :: Sign the Petition

dark chocolate m&ms

I once had a horrible M&M addiction, in my youth, but then I found out that I'm allergic to milk. I lament that they have come out with these evil pellets of doom in several dark dye-filled colors: brown, purple, gray, dark red, dark blue. All in Dark CHOCOLATE. I have found out that I can have SOME dark chocolate M&Ms without having a bad reaction, but the whole bag is unfortunately out of the question. I'm not allowed to buy another bag ever ever again.

I think they're Darth Vadar M&Ms officially, so maybe they'll go away when Darthmania has ended. Or our grocery store will stop getting them because they refuse to stock ANYTHING GOOD. Please. Save me from temptation.

Mercury

My mom has had horrible problems with mercury poisoning (as you may have read in my zine, dealing with mom. Sorry mom!)

I'm a little afraid to get tested, but probably we all should:

Greenpeace - Get Tested For Mercury Contamination

Your Easter Haiku

Early spring morning
Easter Bunny hops in sights
Tastes great with dumplings.


From my favorite poetry book of all time:
Redneck Haiku by Mary K Witte

why I love Seattle

Air America Radio | America's Progressive Talk Radio Network

My letter to Jim Trapp, program director at AM1090, Air America's local station. If you like Unfiltered on Air America, and you live around Seattle, you should write to him too.

Jim Trapp
Program Director
AM1090
1000 Dexter Ave. North Suite 100
Seattle, WA 98109

Dear Mr. Trapp,

I have been listening to AM1090 since November 2004, when I happily discovered your station. I was so delighted to find it. I can listen to every Air America show, even in the “best of” reruns, and enjoy it more than my other favorite radio station, NPR. I liked AM1090 so much that I have been going out of my way to patronize advertisers (except Sam’s Club, which I don’t think is a good advertiser match, but that’s the subject for another letter).

However, this week, you have stopped playing one of my favorite shows, Unfiltered. In its place you have scheduled Morning Sedition, which is frankly my least favorite Air America show. First I thought that this was just a week of vacation for the show, but then I went to the Air America web site and I see that I’ve missed several extremely interesting guests and segments this week, and that in fact you have cut this show from your programming entirely.

I’m so very disappointed in you for doing this. Unfiltered is a great show. I am apparently a born-again liberal, pushed to being a liberal by the Right-wing conservatives moving more and more to the Right. I really enjoy learning so much from the segments on Unfiltered. Oftentimes, the show is more liberal than I am, even, but I actually like that. I am interested in learning about views and opinions that don’t always come naturally to me. I can’t see any reason why you would censor it by taking it off the air.

I hate to be the kind of person who says, bring Unfiltered back or I’ll stop listening, but it’s true. While Morning Sedition is a good show, too, I don’t want to wake up to it when my alarm goes off at 6:30am. If Unfiltered doesn’t come back, I’ll probably have to switch back to NPR.

Thank you for your time and consideration of my opinions.

Green

Huh, I wasn't even too annoyed this year at the pseudo-Irish partiers who wear green sparkleys and drink green beer and have not a smidge of Irish in them.

Yes, I did wear green, and not a single little old creepy man was able to pinch me.

Good fences make good neighbors

Why, oh why, do our neighbors at the restaurant next door to our store insist of turning up the radio in their kitchen so loud that we can hear it all the way in our store? And, more importantly, why do they NOT BELIEVE ME when I call them, tell them we can hear it, and ask them nicely to turn it down? Tell me, do you think that I’m being unreasonable, not wanting to hear their radio in our store?

Why do I have such bad luck with neighbors?

First, there was the possible CIA neighbor, who only showed up late at night once or twice a month, and was noisily building some kind of scaffolding in her apartment.

Then, there was the crazy child who used to find pieces of wood, like a 2x4, and pound it repeatedly on the sidewalk. No reason that I could tell. He’d just pound and pound and pound.

Sue, the musical neighbor would sing opera. I mean it, really, Harry the Dirty Dog style opera, and LOUDLY. She was just above us, and believe it or not, noise traveled downwards into our otherwise beautiful apartment. That woman could really project her voice. Then, after an hour of her opera scales, she’d play piano scales and exercises. Never any songs. Just scales and exercises. For an hour. Then she’s run on her treadmill, which shook the whole building. Really. This was a punishment for us, because we once asked her not to do her treadmill at 4am. Yes, 4am, as in before DAWN. She went ballistic at us for daring to tell her how to run her life, when we obviously didn’t have lives, then she started the whole opera-piano-treadmill routine every night as soon as she got home from work. Sometimes, if she was feeling chipper, she’d sing again for another hour before bed. Weekends she’d often do the entire trio twice a day. She did this for the rest of the time we lived in that apartment.

There have been crying baby neighbors, parking spot stealing neighbors, hogging the laundry room neighbors, but none really ever could compete with Sue.

You’d think with all of this apartment neighbor karma, we’d escape commercial bad neighbor syndrome. But no. It’s like a college dorm around here.

The owners of the restaurant are so NICE, I’d like to say. The food is good and the beer on tap is great. I love the owners, they’re so very sweet. But those guys that work in the kitchen are just, well…did I do something to make them not like me? Besides ask them to keep their radio turned down, that is.

The thing is, they know that their radio can be heard through the wall. My proof is that they turn it up even louder at exactly 6:00, when we normally close. We won’t even go into the fact that our work day rarely ends at 6:00, I’ll save that for another post.

well, then

I guess I had My Island set to not allow comments. I've fixed this, and will not wonder anymore why my blog doesn't get comments. At least I know it's not because I had it broken, so there.

Quote of the Day

"It isn't enough not to do the bad stuff."
-Ben Cohen

Toys for George

This is about my current political art project, Toys for George.

CNN isn't so bad after all

I saved several links to Iraq casualties information, and CNN is one of the few that I had bookmarked that is still up on the web, and even being updated, months after the big "1000" Americans news story.

CNN.com Specials

mean people suck

Maybe I can argue that this isn't exactly whining, more complaining actually. Specifically, complaining about people who deserve to be complained about. Mean People.

Remember those bumper stickers that say, "Mean People Suck" that you used to be able to see everywhere? Well, they tell the truth. Mean people DO suck.

Myself, I try to be a good person. I hold doors open for people who have their hands full or are trying to push a stroller. One time I found a stranger's card in the cash machine, and the screen was flashing, "would you like another transaction?" I passed the Great Karmic Cash Machine Test, and pushed the cancel button, I'm proud to say. (Later, I thought, "Wow! That must have been some kind of karmic test...") I work hard. I smile at strangers. I am kind to crazy people who want to talk to me about the organic eggplants in the grocery store.

I try to be nice, really.

I could be a better person, I know it, but I think I get an A for effort. I don't think I have ever intentionally hurt someone.

But I'm not self rightous about it. I know that there are mean people out there, and I try not to hold it against them. Their meanness shouldn't really effect me, right? Sure, if I see them being mean, I get hurt, either for myself for for someone else, but I have learned to not let them know that they're getting to me. If you let them KNOW, it gives their meanness more power than it should have, see?

However, it's true that I'm a human being. Meanies make me feel sad. Worst of all, because I am NICE, it seems that some people don't even think twice about being mean to me. It's not like I'm going to punch them in the nose or anything, after all.

So, how do you be nice, and yet not be a mean-magnet?

If you're reading this, you're not one of "those people," of course. You're my pal, and pals are kind to one another. Those people wouldn't care to read about how I'm human. They only want to complain and be, well, MEAN. But, of course, they want people to be nice to them back. Not punch them in the nose.

I guess us nice people should come up with a secret code. Instead of actually punching them in the noses, let's say, "you're the kind of person who makes me crave bubble gum."

I have a whole pack of good bubble gum here, and am happy to share.

Remember Hypercard?

For mom, old Macintosh system downloads:

AppleCare Support - Older Software Downloads