god I hate my phone.
I’m about 3/4 done with my christmas shopping, the only stuff left is internet purchases (which should have been done first) and exchanging some stuff. Dinner is on the 23rd, bouillabaisse. I’m trying to keep the season under control, dinners on these days, quiet these days, etc. David leaves the 26th for New Orleans and I fly out after him on the 28th. Last year he left almost a week before I did and I missed him terribly, but then when I saw him at the airport it was like I’d explode with happy. Nice that.
I’m crocheting like mad, making scarves. I’ve learned a few new stitches and I’m happily making cables on one scarf! I’ve been modifying baby blanket patterns into scarves. Crazy? maybe. But it’s working.
Got lots of presents so far! YAY! Watching the first season of Lost courtesy of Alex. Now I can be up on the conversations of my friends and coworkers. Of course it might not be the best thing to watch when you have a plane crash phobia and your anxiety levels are getting high! Funny thing is, I fly all the time, fly all over the country, generally I am not so afraid anymore when I am on the plane, but even now, seeing a plane crash on tv or the aftermath of one, I can feel my chest tighten and my stomach roll and my heart race. When planes crash they fall and I despise the sensation of falling more than just about anything. Of course also there is the impact and the crashing and tearing and burning and death and all.
But, all that considered, it’s good so far.
I don’t have much else. there’s a small brown dog curled up against me, another brown dog sleeping on her bed, and a boy playing a zombie game.

There should be a way to gauge your anxiety and stress levels by the result of your visit with the doctor.
If you leave with a pat on the back and a “chin up, you’re going to be fine”, the you could assume that you are on the low end. Being committed puts you at the top end.
Walking out with a prescription for Ativan called into your pharmacy? I’d say that ranks pretty high.
She also seemed a tad troubled that the reflex-tap to my knees produced no results, even when I did the hand-pull thing to distract my brain. I wonder what that means. I wasn’t intentionally holding my leg still, it just wouldn’t kick. Weird.
Anyway, new doctor. She’s very nice, she listens and all that, pays attention, gives advice. Of course I had to pick a doctor on the other side of town, but really, it’s not about convenience when it comes to your GP, you have to be sure that you’ve got at least one person looking out for you (and I’m lucky, I have many people looking out for me).
Today, I made a $46 retard mistake. Was getting dressed, going to wear my Nebraska Cornhuskers/Spongebob t-shirt with my black hoodie. I was warm this morning (as I often am in the mornings, i’m like a little furnace), so I laid out my hoodie next to my coat so I would put it on as I left. When I got to work I took off my coat and realized that I forgot my hoodie. Crap. I can’t just wear a t-shirt to work, so I bundled off to the college book store and bought an MCAD sweatshirt. $46. What the hell? I suck.

I taught myself how to do a crochet cable ‘knit’. ow. The instructions I had were not so clear AND I’m improvising a portion of a pattern for a baby blanket to turn into a scarf. If it works out, I might give it to my boss for his baby boy. We’ll see. It’s rather involved and you can’t just whip these stitches out while watching a movie. Dang. And it’s not like it’s one stitch you learn but two new stitches and 4 techniques and they get all mixed and matched depending on where you’re at in the row.
Hopefully, once I get used to it I can get it going so I can get it done before the end of next week.
That’s all, my brain is broken.
y’all better step off, i’m the roflpimp!

These are some of my guilty pleasures, vomited out here for your mockery
* Vin Diesel
* Counting Crows
* Alannis Morrisette
* Instant Pudding
* Cheet-ohs
* Fried Green Tomatoes
* **censored**
Mock away, but let me tell you, there is no better cheese-laden unguent for the soul than belting out “Around Here” at the top of your lungs during rush hour.
In other news…
Started and finished Ms Dena’s scarf tonight. Got to have pizza but only if I agreed to eat vegetables (fiiiiine god!), I should probably make a scarf for me.
It’s time for this bubbo to get to bed…let’s hope a certain chobo feels the same way…

I was reading my book in bed the other night, as I do most nights, and it struck me what a gift it is to be able to read. The very act of viewing symbols and divining from that all manner of information. Look at one set of symbols and gain the knowledge of how to make a souffle, another set will completely cut off the present world and fill your head with visions of Gods re-enacting the Trojan War on Mars, another set will make you laugh.
This act of reading and disseminating information is actually pretty amazing when you think about it.
I remember the day I realized I could read. It was late afternoon, I was 4, in Head Start (I love Head Start, without it I would have been at such a disadvantage once school started. It’s a program beset with problems but for me it worked). I was in the car and we came to a stop and I looked at the stop sign and I read the word and I knew what it meant, not because it was on the stop sign, but because I knew the letters and I could make the sounds and the sounds made a word and my head was full of fireworks.
I’d broken the code. I looked around, saw another word, i could read it! and another! and another! all these words that I could look at and read and know what they said. It was amazing to me.
I knew that I had not been able to do this the day before. i was very aware of this and because of this revelation I spent years thinking that certain skills just turned on in your head at a certain age. Imagine my frustration in 3rd grade when I could not figure out division AND it seemed that skill would not turn on for me (and it seems it never will).
From that day on I read, not voraciously at first, I read my Dr Seuss or Little Golden Books, I read signs on the street, I read cereal boxes and TV guide and Pebto-Bismal bottles (slowly of course, I was only 4).
And today I read about geishas and space ships and haunted houses and personal problems and souffle recipes and political discourse and gossip and explosions and disasters and miracles and babies and busses and cookies and moons and hippos and islands and and and and
And every word feels like a gift.