purl necklaces: a little splash of love

I made this last night while watching Pushing Daisies:

It’s the first one I’ve made in almost 18 months. I dig it. I named it Missiletoe. KERPLOWIE!

My new fancy wire isn’t here yet, but I found almost 38ft of 26g sterling silver wire when doing an inventory of my beads. I don’t have very many crystals left, but I have enough semi-precious stones to bedazzle an army. I also found a huge pile of things I already made, but then put in a box and forgot about. I’ll take pictures and throw them up on Flickr later; some are kinda neat.

I suppose this means I’m back in the Purl Necklaces business. I frankly love the name far too much to let it die a painful death, and it’s definitely something to occupy my time – I don’t have time to be cranky and full of angst if I’m making shiny things and under cutting the competition. And I mean seriously undercutting, too – I am far too lazy to price things, so we’ll be dusting off the old “by donation” method. If you want something, let me know and we’ll chat. Pay whatever you think it’s worth (plus a couple bucks for postage), and it’ll be in the mail the next day. That’s it. I’m easy.

So, yeah. Splash your loved ones with a Purl Necklace today!

(hell yes I make myself laugh a lot)

don’t leave me now

Two more days until NaBloPoMo is over. Normally posting for 30 days straight wouldn’t really be a challenge for me – I have an awful lot to say – but lately, it’s been difficult. I am, unfortunately, pretty stinking depressed. Things are getting me down in a fantastically large way, and I am struggling against an urge to do nothing but be sad and morose on my website. However, history has shown that being verbally depressed will lead to a significant loss of both readers and friends, so I am trying very hard to avoid telling you all just how down I am. I will spare you the details, but suffice it to say I am not a happy girl. Everything sucks. I am never going to find another job, and it’s going to be 2003 all over again so I might as well just go back to bed for the next decade or so.

So! I am now tasked with cheering myself up. On Friday I can start baking, as I will most likely be done my holiday shopping by that point. We’re having a tree trimming party on Sunday, which is little more than an excuse for me to feed people because I like cooking and stuff so I have a lot of nibblies to prepare. Probably too many, but seriously – what the hell else am I going to do with my time? Nothing, that’s what. Well, maybe finish Super Mario Galaxy. Yeah, it’s incredibly vital to be me right now.

Oi, I almost choked on my lunch.

I will endeavor to completely ignore the fact that I am depressed, so don’t worry. Things’ll be back to normal around here soon enough; just bear with me. How’s tomorrow? I can be normal by tomorrow.

Wait, maybe I should clarify – I can be normal for ME by tomorrow. Don’t suddenly expect me to, y’know, grow up or something, but I can at least hide the woe.

Yes.

Normal.

the tiny, tiny hand of justice

I did not take it anymore.

Last week when I had to take out a million bags of garbage because my husband is lazy and not at all helpful, I encountered a staircase full of disgusting things. It would seem that someone in our building took out some garbage but instead of putting it INTO the dumpster, they left it BESIDE the dumpster. Gross enough, but at some point someone or something decided to tear the bag open and dump all the contents out around the dumpster. There were empty food containers, honest to god banana peels on the steps leading to the garbage bins, personal information, and other horrible things strewn about all willy-nilly. The worst part wasn’t even the garbage – it was the fact that it had been there since I last went out to check on Oscar; the previous Sunday. It was rotting and smelly and hazardous as fuck, so I did what any outraged citizen with too much time on their hands would do: I took pictures, printed them out, and put them in the lobby on the notice board with a note.

You can look at the garbage here, if you want. I didn’t want to have the images show up in my Flickr stream, so I put them somewhere else. I also had to edit the photos a little, because right on top of the mess was a piece of paper containing the phone number, address and buzzer number of where the garbage came from. Any guesses as to whom the culprits likely were? I’ll give you a hint: they live upstairs, and they’re idiots. We left the information clearly visible in the photos in the lobby because I am a bastard (although not as much of a bastard as Ed and Josh would like – they wanted me to zoom in on the address and post it on the board along with the garbage, but I’m doing the whole “benefit of the doubt” thing).

At any rate, my Exercise in Humiliation seems to have done the trick. When we came home from Victoria, my signs in the lobby were gone. Ed went out back to check, and sure enough, the garbage was cleaned up. Whether the guilty party actually did the work or the apartment manager gave up and did it himself (which brings to mind the question of “why wasn’t it cleaned up the day it happened instead of at least a week later and after the tenants started getting mad”), I don’t know. I don’t really care. The garbage is gone, I got my justice freak on, and maybe now that it’s known there’s a Pajama’d Crusader in the building with an excellent camera and colour printer and a taste for public humiliation, stuff like this won’t happen again.

Speaking of rapidly changing the subject, I uploaded pictures from our trip to Victoria. Josh and Shan lent me their Holga Fisheye Lens (dear Santa: please bring me one for my very own), so most of the pictures are fisheye’d and funky. As an added bonus, there are pictures of a couple making out! Hooray!

the power of equality

I love doing all the housework. No, seriously. It’s how I can feel connected to the household, seeing as I don’t have a job and all. Doing every single bit of housework in our apartment fills me with a deep sense of satisfaction and not at all with a blinding rage coupled with an overwhelming desire to light everything on fire and be done with it. It sure is awesome! No equality for me, thanks – I am woman, hear me scrub!

I would love to wax further poetic about how utterly fulfilled and happy I am, but dang it – those 4 bags of garbage won’t take themselves out!

My rage is blinding AND seething.

i’m a polygramist myself

Men’s deodorant is confusing. Yesterday, in an attempt to be helpful, I picked up not one but TWO different kinds of men’s deodorant for Ed. Naturally, they both turned out to be utterly wrong. Why is deodorant so complicated? Why is this the third entry I’ve written on deodorant within the last two months? If I were a pundit, I would make some sort of crack about something stinking but alas, I am just not that clever.

I woke up with a fantastic headache. I’m a little worse for wear this morning, but Cheddar is distracting me by being disarmingly cute. Also, the mailman has been playing ketchup and is delivering me outstanding goods at a rate of two per day – this morning I received another fancy gift from Nintendo and a package full of Christmas gifts for various people that I am quite excited about. If my head didn’t hurt so much and I wasn’t so unequivocally, spasmodically unemployed, I would be really quite upbeat about it all.

Lastly, here are some words.

coaxial: there was something i was going to ask you
Kimli: i’m already married
coaxial: dang
coaxial: what are your feelings on monogramy
coaxial: whatever that is
Kimli: it’s a single letter sewn into your clothes
Kimli: like the scarlet letter
coaxial: i see
coaxial: not as awesome as I’d imagined
Kimli: well, the scarlet letter is because you’re a shameless whore
Kimli: so it’s not all bad
coaxial: sweet

The concept of “monogramy” makes me laugh, a lot.