And so I went to the mall

Sis and I went to the mall on Saturday, I’m not sure it’s how she wanted to spend her time, but she drove and walked and shopped with the best of them.  We went to the mall local to her, SF Valley, while the parking lot was packed, the mall crowd wasn’t so bad – not like the DelAmo Mall in ’95….waaaaay back then nickels had pictures of bees and we’d say “five bees for a quarter,” and that was the largest mall in the United States, but I digress.

 This story is my first, first-hand experience with anti-homosexual treatment.   I know, it’s a shocker, at this late stage of life that it would be my first time, but what can I say, as a hetero woman it’s not something I’ve had to worry about.  I didn’t realize just how accepting my family was until I was a young adult; my parents couldn’t have cared less about someone’s sexual preference, my Grandmother always said things like “the heart wants what it wants, and  you can’t help what the heart wants,” and so consequently I figured everyone felt the same way, accepting.  Can’t believe I live my life floating around in that little bubble.

So, there we were shopping in Hallmark, I’m looking for an ornament for CreepyKid, something specific and then just perusing the rest of the goods that they might have to offer.  I asked Sis to hold onto all the ornament boxes I had while I tried out some wind-up toys, which was great, I’m not sure why I enjoy them so much, but I do…it’s good to  be me, so easily amused.  

We end up moseying to the register and waiting in line, she starts looking at the impulse items and I’m standing in line.  My turn comes up “Sweetie, bring those here,” and she brings my ornaments to the cashier.  The cashier, who had previously been smiling at me, immediately looked like she smelled something.  You know the face, turned down smile, flared nostrils and I thought – WTF?  Really?  It’s Christmas, a time of good cheer….for just about EVERYONE!  I’m spending my dollars in your store!   I’m buying gifts for my loved ones!  And you….YOU…are going to spoil that by making that face, passing your judgment on me, honestly! 

 So, it nearly harshed my buzz for the whole day, but we went to Bath and Body Works right after that and had a splendid time with their sales-guy!

Tea Party

Yes, I went to a tea party a few weekends ago at the Scarlet Tea Room.  I wore my best black dress, tallest black boots and even my fancy hat; the hat was something special, wooden and made to order – awesome!

So there I was, doing my gothy best to look like polite society, napkin in my lap…and of course the waiter asks “what would you like to drink?” Oh how about a lemon drop, sure it’s only 11:30, but it’s 5:00 somewhere!  Yeah, it doesn’t take much to tip off me off to those around me that I’m really blue‑collar (regardless of my family’s professions).   Yup, I’ll look very proper and genteel, then I’ll open my mouth “Come on Dovah, move your bloomin’ arse!”

We ate, drank, were merry – I lost track of the time, we were there until after 2PM, it was a wonderful time with some gals from CalHauntS.  We’re hoping to do this again sometime, but as I’ve yet to see an invitation, I guess I better get my rear in gear.

What Happens When You Pack Everything But Your Brain

Otherwise Titled "Stupid Shit I Did While Out of Town"

So, I went to Dickens Faire, it was great, but I’ll give my full opinion later, in another post.  This post is specifically to touch on the stupid things I did while away.  I’m not sure if it’s just any type of traveling that does this to me, I end up not sleeping or not sleeping well, whatever the case I’m sure to do some stupid crap – so, here it goes!

Burned Myself

So there’s a coffee pot in the room, I decide I’m going to make coffee (so far so good).  I even remembered to get hot chocolate with breakfast so I can make it palatable.  Flash forward to later, coffee is made, I pull the pot from the machine and think “self, why don’t you turn off the coffee maker so it doesn’t short out or start a fire, that’s the responsible thing to do,” so I turn it off.  Yeah, I press the off button, but it’s one of those that you have to click over really hard, so to get the appropriate leverage I put my hand down on the machine…yeah…left hand ring, middle and index finger down on the hot plate.  I actually heard a sizzle before I yanked my hand away as though I knew I couldn’t POSSIBLY have stuck my hand on that, so I shouldn’t be worried, that was some other fool.  OK, a dash to the bathroom sink for cold water and BEHOLD, icy water from the night before…so I spent a good 30 minutes with my hand in a bucket, until the residual burning feeling stopped.  Luckily I had already done all my showering and shaving….

Shaving

So I decided that I’m going to make sure I’m all clean and spruced for  going off to London (found out later it wouldn’t have mattered how great I was when I left my room, it was sweltering in that friggin’ poly-costume – ugh!  I digress..so I put a brand new blade in my razor…and was shaving…and shaving…and shaving and yet no hair removal was going on. Hmmm…so I stared at the razor, it was clean…I’m sure I looked like I monkey trying to figure it out…look at it, shave, look at it, the water, shave…nothing.  Oh yeah, put the blade in upside down. FANTASTIC!  Put in a new one and it worked like a charm.

Costume Dysfunction

And this is why I like to try everything out at least once but I hadn’t had the opportunity.  So, my hoop skirt fits great when I’m au natural – with my corset on it is way too big. So I safety pin the one side, but it causes the other side to droop – thought I fixed it…I didn’t…my tulle hung out below the hemline of my dress.  This is both tacky AND dangerous as I kept stepping on it.  Luckily someone in the ladies room pinned up the front and I finally stomped on the back to make a hole and ripped the offending fabric off with my hands and teeth.

Locked Myself Out

So, I was exhausted from the day and the not sleeping the night before – I got to my room and managed to change myself.  Of course my feet were sore from the shoes but I managed to hobble back and forth to the lobby to ask someone to unzip me.  I slipped into something a  little more comfortable and then thought, I’m going to put my room service tray outside BEFORE I take a bath and relax.

So, I put the tray outside, it’s not right, just a little farther push – blast it, it should be HERE *click* CRAP, in order to put it along side my wall I had to step completely outside of my room. A quick call to the lobby produced a front desk gal with two all access keys.  As she’s trying to open my door “Do you have any I.D.?”  It’s ALL in the room, open the room and I’ll show you. “What’s your full name?” Really?  I mean, really?  Fine….

Then, lo and behold, neither key works…we have to call for Willy, the maintenance guy and he’s really busy with a wallpaper project on the far side of the lobby.  So, there, I waited 20 minutes for Wallpaperin’ Willy to come open my room, finally I was inside.

AA Batteries

Well, let’s just say I always assume that my hotel will be within decent walking distance to a facility where I could get a few sundries…it wasn’t and their stupid, little shop didn’t have them either. Frustrations galore!

Interestingly all this happened to me on Saturday, which was my most sleep deprived day of my trip.

What to Wear to the Faire?

Got my costume lined up for Dickens Faire, I don’t own anything that’s appropriate.  Yes, I COULD wear my Klingon gear, but that is so SoCal Pleasure Faire!  I went to a local rental place, Daisy’s, it’s an independently owned costumer’s and she’s so fun to be around, plus she’s from England so she’s got an AWESOME accent.

I realized that when I walked in I was likely to NOT get something that was approvable for a participant, but I was going the extra mile of not going with my usual “goth” look nor my boring jeans and novelty t-shirt.  I did, however, decide to go local since my jab at a place in the SF Valley area tried to pass off their “Titanic” line first, then their “Elizabethan” stuff and finally when I told them that neither of those were the right era I was shown their “Victorian” line.  Yes, I could’ve dealt with the Velcro closure, but I couldn’t abide the sequins…REALLY? Yes! Yes, sequins…didn’t realize what a costume snob I was becoming.  ANYWAY…I turned down her shiny poly riding outfit and finally she admitted that people renting costumes generally don’t want the big-butt look that the correct period gives you.  <eye roll>

So, back to Daisy’s….I figured since she sews most of what’s in there herself I would at least get a decent garment even if it wasn’t quite right.  I let her know I was looking for Victorian, ala a Christmas Carol…so how about a caroling outfit?  She whips out this plaid dress…it was cute…it was definitely from the 70’s, but I would deal…I mean really, who’s going to call me out….ok ALL of you…but you don’t know Daisy!  So, she was pulling out cloaks and bonnets and then she said, “Where did you say you were wearing this?”

“Oh, to the Dickens Faire in San Francisco,” and I smiled excitedly.

“TAKE THAT OFF!  That just won’t do!  That dress is fine if you’re going caroling at the mall, but some those people have been working on their outfits for over 10 years!”

She showed me a bonnet and cape, red and green plaid, “I’ll make you a dress that’s either red or green to go with these, see you on Friday!”

Fan-tas-tic!  She will have everything I need, sure it’ll zip up the back and sure it’ll have metallic gold braid trim…but it will have been sewn with love and speed, maybe not JUST for me, but I get to be the first person to take that dress out for a spin!

I Went on a Date

Definition for Date: going out somewhere in public with a person who will pay for my day/evening’s entertainment and/or meal and knowing very well I will never sleep with that person.

If that’s not Webster’s definition it appears to have been mine, I’ve only been on three dates in my life, three different men.  Don’t even start digging into how I could’ve been married and yet not dated – therein is the difference between “dating” and “going out.”  You think it’s semantics but it’s not.

As my usual men-related strategy hasn’t been working, well, really, ever, I decided to go out with anyone who asks.  Who asked? Someone who works with my cousin at Buca.  As I had already decided that I’d go out with anyone AND it gave me an opportunity to practice going out in public I said “yes.”

Much like going on job interviews just for the practice, I figured I  would take this time to practice things like not chewing with my mouth open, using my napkin and making conversation that didn’t start out with “so I was on the toilet yesterday…”

We met for brunch, we went to Olive Garden, look, it was close and the thought he worked for an Italian place didn’t even cross my mind until long after the fact.  We went to the movies, my choice, Harry Potter 7, as he didn’t seem the nerdy type I’m sure he thought I was 14 or something, but oh well, this is what comes of letting me choose and not knowing me very well.

It was pleasant, but I’m sure that we’ll not go out again.  He did violate my “must not have children” rule and the “not if he’s my father’s age or older” rule which overrides.  “I have two grown, married daughters in Turkey, a son who’s a dentist…”  also, grandchildren *shudder.*  And don’t give me that I’ve got a double standard, having a kid myself….or knowing that my mother was a grandmother at 39…I mean you COULD give me that…but I’d ignore it, sorry, it’s just my way.

At least he was gentlemanly, though he didn’t open my car door (boo) he didn’t try to swoop in for a kiss - I would've had to duck and that would have really revealed that I was 14.

Do I Have to ALWAYS Learn the Hard Way?

The short answer is yes, yes I do.  I don’t generally believe printed warnings and because of me my employer’s handbook had to be amended.  I went to brunch with a friend, I confessed I once used a straw in a hot beverage and found out first hand why you aren’t supposed to do that.  A look crossed her face, it could’ve been pity, it also could’ve been one of those “I know you’re not stupid, so why did you do that?”  I then told her “you know, I also found out why you don’t push a big trash bin with the lid open.  Do you know why?”

So there I was, in my yard putting cut grass into our green waste bin – it was a push mower with no catcher so I was raking and “shoveling” into the bin.  With all that work why would I want to close the bin to simply walk it several steps up to reopen it for grass-shoveling – I know, I leave it open!  Yes, there is a warning on the can, but why would I heed that?

With the lid open, I did what I normally do, tip the can back and roll forward – I promptly threw myself away.  Yes, with the lid open and the can tipped back the lid dangles, swaying gently by your feet, then you step on it, which tips the whole can backward and BLAMO, you go headfirst inside; this is exactly what happened to me.  Dry grass all over me, had to pick it all up again and there wasn’t even anyone to witness and then laugh at me!

Please make with the laughing now, cuz that shit’s funny!

Dramatic reenactment rendered in paint

What I Want for Christmas

I really want to learn how to throw a good punch, the kind that might break my hand, but in a very satisfying, oh-my-God-I-can’t-believe-he’s-out-cold, kinda’ way.   I’m not going to get into the “you know that’s assault” talk, because if I throw a punch you can damn well bet that I need to do it, hang the consequences…besides CreepyKid is very nearly an adult.

I learned pacifism from my father, it’s served me well, I am generally likeable and can usually talk my way out of a sticky situation.   It’s due to him I have my spin-doctoring skills and have never needed to know how to throw a punch.

I learned passive-aggression from CreepyMom and AuntMom, they are the queens of this with heavy usage of guilt.  As a result I have created a resistance to guilt, even Jewish guilt which is the strongest!  This has also served me well and I have ninja like skill with guilt and teasing.

Coupled the guilt and the verbal skills have created the one-two punch of persuasion, which makes me a very dangerous, silver-tongued combatant, as long as we’re word sparring.  I am not in the best of practice, but with just a little my skill is honed.

However, I would like to be able to defend my own honor with a nice jab to the eye socket.  This is where my Uncle comes in, he taught his kids how to protect themselves with both offensive and defensive maneuvers – this is what I want.  I can’t think of a better present than to be able to protect and defend myself with my favorite move, which is a strike of forehead against nose…this is all I have in my arsenal and I can thank my Grandfather for it…my strong Irish skull.

Today at Work

We were shown a spreadsheet that would help maintain some metrics based information until we get the software (which will do just that) up and running – so about two months.  The meeting went something like this:

Behold our amazing new Excel workbook, color coded for Projects that are in progress, preparing to start and not started/on hold.  The thing is full of formulas to make all the important calculations easy, it’s not locked in any way so we will have to trust the twenty-five people this will go to, to NOT change anything.  Those twenty-five folks will fill it out and send it to one person who will compile everything into one spreadsheet – which should be as easy as cutting and pasting.  We will then have our on-going metrics regarding multi-tasking.

“Um, can we lock the cells so things can’t be altered?”
“No, if we lock the cells they won’t be able to populate the sheet AND have it calculate correctly.”

“Well, I know if I got this the first thing I would do is add and delete columns, so can we add more columns for people to doodle in?  If we don’t they’re just going to add them in themselves”
“Sure,” additional twelve columns added.

“Can we make the blue cells aqua?”
“Can we add a pattern to that?”
“Can we change the font size/style/color?”

Great, it looks like a bunch of clowns vomited on my Excel program THANKS!

The sad thing is that this is NOT the first time I’ve run into this.  A spreadsheet was sent out with three simple color codes: Yellow fill (need training), Yellow Fill with Red Font (Need training this day), Green with black font (took training this day).  Then each of the dozen groups would slightly alter it “I don’t like that shade of green,”  “we changed the green to blue because we like it better,” “I decided to make my own color codes, the legend is on the second page of the workbook.”  Ugh, people, can’t live with them, can’t randomly bash them in the head for their stupidity.

Catching Up

Well, where to start.  For those who had been following me before, here’s some catching up for you…for those who hadn’t, think of it as an intro.

TheCreepyKid:  is 16 now and is learning to drive, she’s a senior in high school and should have her AA completed by the end of Spring.  She’s applying to several California colleges, but she’s hoping to get into Loyola Marymount.

WoodTurnerD: I broke it off with him earlier this month after originally breaking up in July.  Unfortunately he’s currently out of work, so he’ll be staying for a little while, but he’s still turning beautiful wood pieces.

CousinH: she’s still living with me, helping me around the house (which is awesome) and getting her life back on track.

Me,  CreepyGirl: well, I bought a house, which I’d love to sell but  can’t right now or I’d take a flippin’ bath.  I’m still working at the same place I had been, but moved to another area, which was great because I was six months away from walking away from it all and flipping hamburgers at Mickey D’s.   

Halloween was grand, got to haunt ToyKeeper’s place again after a one year hiatus.  I still work the RenFaire and am going to a guild meeting soon.   

The holidays are up and coming, which means my stress level is sure to gear up shortly and not come down until February.

So I’m older, potentially wiser and still just as mouthy as I was on my last blog space.

Time for a Fresh Start

For a blog that is, I was regularly blogging about the day-to-day goings on in my life about six years ago.  I was unable to blog, also known as unable to blog from work and being busy during my “off hours,” I think my last posting was over six months ago.

Anyway, need a place to vent ~ here it is…that way if you know me in real-life, or FB or anything like that you DON'T have to hear it...or if you enjoy reading it...um...you can hear it several times.