What I Do When I Am Supposed to be Sleeping

Roxanne & Hat, originally uploaded by Ellen M.C..

Last night, as I was awake too late, doing things that should only be done by the crazy or the desperate (re-organizing my drawers and charity-bagging a bunch of stuff), I took a break to harass a dog.
This little collection is the result of my endeavors. Roxanne is quite the willing subject, with her surly attitude and willingness to stay still and be tortured. I plopped my hat on her head, and of course she was already wearing the vest (it is cold, the vest keeps her warm, she is not a sissy dog). I think she is styling, and probably wishing for me to stub a toe or disappear.

I bet you actually sleep when you are supposed to be sleeping, don't you? You don't know what you're missing.

And Then You Didn't Hear From Her for 12 Days

Do these folks seem a bit behind the curve to you?

Here's another thing, if you can't watch Beowulf in 3D, please don't watch it. I don't want you to tear your eyes out to stop the pain of terribleness. Seriously, in my snooty-pants opinion if it weren't for the lances and coins launching out of the screen at me (special thanks to the dorky glasses) the movie would be absolute trash. Didn't even follow the original story line. However, with the 3D, it was fairly entertaining. Would never watch it again, wouldn't be on the top 3 list of movies currently in theaters--however I don't regret seeing it. I mean it about the only-in-3D-thing though, you like your eyes too much to lose them like that.

Made It

Here is the odd thing about this whole NaBloPoMo stuff. I made it, barely...but I don't feel like I have really posted anything of substance. Part of this is because I think there may be strangers reading this, part of it is because I suck at writing regularly. I suspect with time I could force that to change...and I could become a little less abashed about my personal life.
However, I gave you folks something everyday, for a month and now I am not going to touch this keyboard for a whole weekend, unless I actually think of something to say to you.
There is a small part of me thinking "I conquered NaBloPoMo, yay me!" Because I always win.

Confession

I am a dog person. I tell people that I am a fuzzy companion person, but that is a lie. Cats are okay, but I am not terribly torn up about my boyfriend's declaration that I will never be allowed to have one. Dogs are sweet and cuddly and you can boss them around. Try that with a cat.
"Kitty, sit!" It is possible, but extraordinarily difficult to train an animal that has the ability to go feral and only sticks around for the kibble and back scratches. I trained a couple of cats once-upon-a-time and they would only do one of their tricks if there was something tangible in it for them.
I guess it comes down to the same thing everyone tells you; cats are cool and independent while dogs are sociable and dependant. I prefer the dogs.
That all being said, one day I will own a cat. Because I am stubborn. Here's my argument: children who are raised around cats are far less likely to develop severe environmental allergies as adults. However, we all know the reason is that I kind of like cats and I want one, and I tend to get what I want.

Signing off,
Spoiled Dog Lover

Bang, Bang

I learned to handle myself around guns when I was very young. I had to learn how to shoot rifles around the time I was ten or so. When you grow up in Alaska and you have a cabin in the middle of nowhere, and there are bears and wolves and mean moose to contend with you need to be able to try to save yourself. Consequently, I can shoot a rifle well enough to bruise my shoulder and save my ass.
In the last 10 years however, I haven't touched any type of gun other than to place it back in a drawer, closet, or safe. I have recently been thinking that shooting would be an interesting hobby to pick up and the self-defense factor wouldn't be too shabby, either. I don't want to shoot rifles though, they are big, and heavy, and as I said, they bruise my shoulder. I might want to shoot handguns, and especially to really figure out target shooting--and to become good at it. I would need a gun, lessons, and free time. If I rode my bike out to the shooting range, I could call myself a biathlete, which would be spiffy (if a bit of a fib).
Bang, bang--right on target!

Thank You

Special thanks to friend of friends, DGM Saw Owner. I am without internet at my house and posting slipped my mind at work and at the boyfriend's house...Saw Owner saved me! Or saved my NaBloPoMo. I have guilt though, oh the guilt, I may have to post again today-you know, if I remember.
The boar we had Sunday night was really good. Apparently, soaking your game in milk for 3-4 hours actually does draw out the gaminess. I was skeptical about that one, but now we know! The traveling we did Sunday sucked, but could have been worse. Left around 8:30 which put us back in town a little before midnight, traffic was pretty clear and smooth the whole way. However, arriving at midnight when you need to unpack and settle back in means no sleeping until 1:30 at the earliest. Hence my fatigue and crankiness. However, with boyfriend's finals coming up, I get to pretend to be single, which means that I go home after work and sleep.

Guest Blog!

Guess who forgot to blog today? Ellen! Because she's blogging daily and won't be able to, I will do it for her. I am DGM Saw Owner. Hear me blog!

Moody Blues

Wow, today hit me pretty hard. Back to work, back to routine, back to waking up at appropriate times. I'm exhausted and miserable...when I get like this a warning sign should be gently stapled to my forehead, "No matter what you do, you will get in trouble!".
Nothing comes lightly when I get moody; teasing is criticism and everything gets personal. Those around me suffer my pitiful wrath.
I am working on fixing my moody behavior, on managing myself--I've gotten better, but I still find myself apologizing for my poor actions. Today I am sorry for snapping and going insta-pissy when I was being teased.
With rest I shall be happier and more coherent. I need to go buy yogurt first.

On the Road, Again

There is something about traveling that no one loves. We all love destinations, but if we could blink and be where we want to be, the airspace and the freeways would be wide open. Traveling sucks. Tonight we are headed home, back to the central coast, where there is fog, and work, and routines, and I'm happy to go home.
Before we leave, there is fresh boar for dinner...new dietary experience for me.
Safe travels for you and me.

From My Gmail

Dear Internet,
I am writing you from my email today...I can send this straight to my blog from any old place, pretty nifty if you ask me. This also means that I can have strangers and guests send you letters and posts and tell you deep secrets about me. Because I have deep, deep secrets. Secrets involving...oh hell I have no secrets, life is easier when you confess. Time to go watch a film with a large cast that I will fall asleep in the middle of. I am formulating a tale for you, I might have it tomorrow, I will definitely have it by Monday, since I am traveling tomorrow.
Love,
me

Tough Days

I am a story teller, really, truly. I have stories, yet I keep giving myself reasons to not type them up. Like tonight the reason involves a flickering screen and a show I have never watched before.

Happy Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving to all you happy folks out there.  We have more blessings than we can count, and today is the reminder to be grateful.

On the Road

Fond greetings from Mission Viejo, California--recently reported to be the safest city in the U.S.  We traveled last night, all the way down, past LAX to drop someone off and kept on trucking.  I stayed awake the whole time, which is a Thanksgiving miracle and I am still tired.  Something about not being settled just makes for poor sleep or rest--so we can expect this for the next month and a half.  I'll perk up in a couple of days, probably when it is time to travel back.

Updates

Prize and Helmet, originally uploaded by Ellen M.C..

Ugly picture, but it serves the purpose. What you are looking at is my conquistador helmet and my antiquing prize.
In other updates, I didn't hallucinate the Christmas palm tree, they actually wrapped one of their giant palm trees in lights--it must have taken a crane.
That little orange thing is a glass container, it has spikes and is fabulous. When I get around to redecorating the bathroom, I think it will hold q-tips.
Lots more pictures up on flickr, including the best pumpkin I have carved yet.

I Bought a Conquistador Helmet

Everyone's has holiday traditions. Every group, family and friends, knows that certain things will happen at gatherings and throughout the rest of this year. We all know that this week kicks the traditions off, and that now, we enter the season of expectations.

One of my family's traditions is the Christmas party, where my family and family-friends gather to celebrate Christmas and each other. Part of this party involves a Chinese Auction (or, more politely, a White Elephant Gift Exchange) with a catch. Real gifts are not allowed, your goal is to find the most absurd yet surprisingly desirable gift. Good examples of this include the Women in Waders calendar, world's biggest underpants, and an "antique" whiskey bottle in the shape of John Wayne (you would screw off his hat for the booze--also, he was completely gold).

I have yet to win the most desirable present submitted prize--though I thought I would last year with this, but it turns out I'm more morbid than most people. This year, I found a stainless steel conquistador helmet, it makes me laugh. I'm just going to wrap is ornately and hope. If I thought my family-friends had a greater sense of irony, I would include a blanket and a little note saying "Congratulations! You are the world's newest Conquistador, have a complementary smallpox blanket."

They wouldn't get it, they would tell me that isn't funny and, besides, it's historically inaccurate.

Laundry

I resent laundry, and yet I continue to do mine and my boyfriend's.  Laundry, laundry, folding and folding.  Life of someone who doesn't want to smell like or look like a homeless receptionist.
Goodnight, tomorrow I think I'll have a story for you.

For Sale

Seriously, someone please buy this Lexus.

The boyfriend doesn't need it anymore because he has finished rebuilding the engine of his favorite vehicle. We now ride in the true lap of luxury, a 1989 Toyota 4-Runner.

Buy the Lexus, please.

Hallucinations

On the drive home tonight, I am fairly sure I saw a Christmas palm tree on the Madonna property.  As in red Christmas lights making mu the trunk and then green lights used to form the leaves.  I must have seen something way wrong, because if I didn't this is a huge change from the traditional gingerbread looking meeting hall and white light tree on the top of the mountain.
This means I have lost my mind--or Phyllis has.  I'll let you know as soon as I do.

Stories, Stories Everywhere

I have stories. I have struggles. I even have celebrations. Yet they are not all mine. I can tell you stories of me, I cannot tell you stories of other people...not without their permission. For some of these stories it is far too personal to get permission, for others I know permission will never come.
I want to be able to share this some of these stories, to commiserate, to vent. Here, though, is not the place. A darkly lit bar, over a martini, and under the music is that place.

Shoe Advice

Listen, my shoe people--ladies and gentlemen alike--no matter how comfortable your heels are you cannot walk more than three miles in them in any given day. You will end up with blisters in unique places (like your fourth toe) and have aching joints (like ankles and knees). This is a public service announcement. Stick to those sexy tennis shoes--even when you are wearing skirts. Your toes and ankles and knees will thank me.
Seeing as how I don't take my own advice, I won't be thanked by my any part of my lower extremity any time soon.

My Third Job

Here I am, sitting at my office computer at 9:45 in the evening, having just finished vacuuming and remembering the whole post everyday thing. So I am a janitor, it is easy work and great pay, in fact the grand majority of the Christmas presents will come from my vacuum-and-clean-toilets money. It may be the fifties housewife in me, but I actually like to clean, it carries satisfaction.
It may be the satisfaction of hard work or the satisfaction of taking care of my environment but I am glad to clean my spaces. "Clean my spaces" means you are still on your own about cleaning your spaces, my friends. I like you anyway.

Just Gotta Have

Today it hit me how close we are to the holidays again. How did that happen so soon? I am not ready for Thanksgiving, let alone Christmas in Alaska. Here we are ten days from Thanksgiving and I am suffering from holiday fatigue. I'll get over it, I'll enjoy the holidays and the traveling and the everything. But today I want to not look forward to it. I don't want to drive to one family and then fly to the other family. I want to read and curl up and buy nothing.

Veteran’s Day

Tomorrow we are taking off from school and work for today. Today is Veteran's Day, today I will tell you about my dad.
My father was 19 when he joined the Navy, after being invited to not return by his university. Dad has always worked hard, had his first job when he was 11 and never stopped, he even moved out of his family house when he was 16 to work in another town for a summer. However, he wasn't prepared for the university environment in the early 1970s, and he soon proved it to those who determine who could attend. So he joined the Navy during some of the tensest times of the Cold War. He went through boot camp and served as an enlisted man, choosing to never become an officer...by the time he was done with boot camp he knew he could never be a career Navy man. My father spent most of his service posted at Adak, a remote island in the Aleutian island chain in Alaska.
Adak is a dismal, fog encrusted place. The island is rocks, and sometimes rock covered in concrete. It is truly a pimple in the North Sea, and now that the Cold War is over and the Navy closed the base the entire island has a population of around 300, only fishermen and the women who love them are willing to inhabit such a place. It is the island that taught my Dad to love Alaska, somehow.
Back when my father was an enlisted man in the Navy, Adak was a booming, if paranoid place. Being so close to Russia, the little island was a busy place.
When he wasn't on routine kitchen duty, he was a radio man.
Kitchen duty involved working with the Pilipino cooks to feed the masses, and then cleaning up after those masses. The stories of cockroaches and chicken should be left for a time I want to gross you out. The impression that he worked had and sweated over making sure he did his job should not be forgotten.
As for being a radio man, Dad’s job was to listen across all bands for any Russian radio transmission. He became a champion at his duty, quite literally. He and the other radio men would race to see who could find the next new signal, he won—a lot. I couldn’t tell you how many transmissions he intercepted or how many of them meant something, but I can tell you some of them did. After he found a new transmission, he would pass it on to someone who spoke Russian and then go back to manning the dial.
Not the most exciting job in Navy— there will certainly never be a movie made about radio men racing to find the next Russian babble on the dial—but undoubtedly an important part of the Cold War front.
David Clark served for four years, afterwards taking everything he learned into the rest of his life; thirty years later he still stands straight and carries the strongest work ethic of anyone I have ever met. He has impressed on me so much, including the lessons of duty, fidelity and strength which I know he learned (or were reinforced) while serving in the Navy.
My Papa served, I’ll bet you know someone who served. Please call them and wish them a happy Veteran’s Day, it’s the least they ever earned.

Happy Veteran’s Day to every veteran I know, happy Veteran’s Day to every veteran I don’t know and Happy Veteran’s Day to my Pop.

Just, just

Just got home, and I feel the need to describe "day". I don't like the calendar or clockwise day, it doesn't fit seem to me. The new day starts when I wake up...the old day ends when I rest. I can't say "go to sleep" because I have insomnia and there are nights where the REM sleep never happens. So, since I carry such a fluid concept of day, I haven't cheated, so there.
Turns out I am becoming a regular at the Clubhouse (on Foothill in SLO), I like their bar--there tends to be live music, its fairly laid back, and (this is key) there isn't a huge bunch of kids around. And tonight a stranger told me I was beautiful.
In other news, Cayucos has some great antique malls and shops. I'll show off my find soon.
Good night folks, I be back tomorrow.

What's next?

So, publicly threatening my intestines worked...I wonder what it'll take to get my brain from hurting (no), throbbing (no), trying to escape my skull (that's just about accurate). I don't think it will respond well to threats, maybe I can subdue it with sleep.
That's right folks, not even 10:30 yet and I am going to sleep. While a party is going on outside this room and spilling over to next door. I am old and infirm; it's the only reason why I could be such a crumb-bum. Either that or playing beer pong, foosball, and pool (all while slightly to greatly inebriated) doesn't appeal to me ever.

Burn 'em up!

Burn 'em up!, originally uploaded by Ellen M.C..

Look at that, I put a photo up. This was taken on the one and only time I will only visit Fresno, if we don't count driving through or coercion or weddings (if anyone I know actually gets married in Fresno). Anyway, turns out that if you drive away from Fresno (and who doesn't?) for about 1-2 hours you end up at beautiful Sequoia National Park, where this picture was taken.
This also hails the introduction of my presence on flickr, as can be witnessed here. Pretty sparse at the moment, but I'll keep adding.

(I'm sorry if I insulted a place you like, but I mean it)

Oh no!

Watch out! The dolphins are going to get us.

This is probably today's filler, if I remember than I will have pictures later. Not that the promise of photos has worked in the past.

Dear Intestines

Honestly, my insides, what the fuck? What the hell did I do to you? I'm not doing anything different, or for that matter anything new--you are. I am not sick in anyway, if we don't count what you are doing to me. I would like to drink coffee without the stabby-stabbiness, I would like to eat meat (or other complex proteins) without the general ick, I would like to consume more than room temperature water comfortably.
Sounds simple, doesn't it?
Apparently, not to you, digestive system. Are you mocking me? The pain, grumbles, etc never lasts longer than 2 minutes--and you evidently continue to do the job you were biologically assigned.
So, intestines, here is the deal. You have a week to sort things out. Otherwise, I will take us to the doctor to get poked at...which neither of us really wants to happen. So figure this nonsense out, before I have to get blood drawn. Please let me remind you, digesting organs, you really don't want to tick off the circulatory system.

Anniversary

Well, today is a bit anti-climatic. As of today, I have been official with the boyfriend for a year. The key to that sentence is official. You see we were involved in some-sort-of-relationship long before we were out about things. So, yeah, a year or a year-and-three-months depending on what you are counting. A bit sad, really.
The thing is even though it has been a "year" and I theoretically should be celebrating, I just don't have the drive currently. I would be happy with our normal routine tonight as I would be with anything special. It may be that I had a emotionally rough weekend or that I'm all out of sorts on the time change or that I ate too much for lunch or that it's in reality not that big of a deal. This is the man who I am planning on spending the rest of my life with and for our one-"year" anniversary I don't want to do/receive much of anything.

That being said...remember, gentlemen, to many women receiving flowers is the equivalent to you receiving a blow job.

Light and Fluffy

I think that my weekend posts will have to be light and fluffy, or blissfully short--or realistically both. I just don't have the computer time on my weekends for much else. I would rather be at the beach, shopping, or curled up, anything but looking at a flickering screen. I will post though, I swear. And most of the time I will have something to say.

Yup, Yup

Instead of posting before midnight, I had a midori margarita and cried a little. Will explain why, nope a bit too personal at the moment, just going to use it as a justification. Don't forget to switch your clocks.

Wakey, Wakey

Well, I may be a sucker.
I woke up at 6:30 this morning. First thing I discovered is that at 6:30 the sky is still dark, I don't really do pre-dawn hours well. I stumbled around the house doing my morning routine and wishing it was two hours later. It wasn't, however, because today Walmart started their Christmas special sales (oh boy, the First Friday of the month instead of the First Friday following Thanksgiving, when will this trend end?), and one of the first things discounted beyond belief was a HD-DVD player--ahh yes, 1/3 the cost of the MSRP--the evil Walmart lured us in with a deal. And, of course, now that we have 60-inch-plasma-screen-fancy-pants-television (which I will call the giant television, or GFTV) in our midst, it is essential that we have an HD-DVD player, just plain mandatory. And even though this isn't the best, it'll do until the blue-ray vs. HD-DVD battles are done (obviously).
So, I go to behemoth mega-store at bright and early this morning. I thought Walmart opened at 8, and I arrived at 7:40 to make sure we got this toy. Turns out that Walmart opens at 7 and I was blessed enough to just get the last of 11, I even got to gloat to an old man.
Now to the us, our, we grammar I am using. This is my boyfriend's GFTV and technically his HD-DVD player. This is where I am a sucker, I woke up early for my boyfriends GFTV. I drove down to Arroyo Grande this morning for a cup of coffee and a Rubbermaid tub. And 4 post-its that I can use to my advantage, which I shall explain another day.
To, conclude I am a tired sucker and for future reference Walmart opens at 7 am (and they somehow have an entire staff of morning people, chirpy chirpy morning people).

NaBloPoMo

How many blogs are out there, abandoned? Left alone, never updated, only to take up space in our superhighway world. I have left three behind me. Three blogs that I have killed, leaving their rotting husks behind me as I move on. This has happened because of life transitions, or because of laziness. I know I am not the only one to have done it, we don't delete our old profiles, we just let them go to waste.
In an effort to not let that happen to this place for a while, I decided to start up on the first day of November, and more importantly to join NaBloPoMo. Is this a commitment? Yep. Have I ever been able to post every day for a week, let alone a month? Nope. Will I do this? Probably.
So folks, welcome to my brand new blog, welcome to November, welcome to NaBloPoMo.