meh

I have just gotten off one of the busiest stretches of work in a looong while. At least since November. It is just a temporary lull, really, until next week, when it starts all over again. This week was flush with events, write-ups, dealing with press, press releases, deadlines, couriers who don’t show up at the appointed time, courier services that don’t have your pickup on file, ad specs, bleeds, photography, business cards that litter my desk and will never be organized no matter how much I mean to, preparing packets for meetings that will run out because some people can’t be bothered to RSVP to an e-mail for chrissakes, budget bullet points, the Albany trip, compiling survey results, stuffing breakfast meeting bagels in my purse because I knew there would be no lunch, seminars, orientations, mailing lists, bawling out reporters and feeling the self-loathing pulsing through my veins as I do so, and peas. Too many peas in my dinner. Which lead to the inevitable marital discord.

My greatest misstep was settling into episodes 1 to 3 of Footballer’s Wives last night. I had gotten home at about 9, after dragging myself and the other guy who worked too much this week out of the office. I saw it had come via Netflix and knew – KNEW! – I should not succumb, for I have stories to clean up and write and a very early morning meeting. I watched them all, all but episode 4 (which I am not angry I didn’t suffer through so I could return it and possible have a new disk by Saturday) and fell asleep around 1:30 in the morning.

I am listening to this to take my heart rate down before I go home and die.

the one where i am productive

I had a very simple list of things to do with my long MLK Jr. weekend, and I am happy to be able to tick them off.

The first and foremost was to scan the first pictures taken with the Diana+ camera I got for Christmas. 120 processing is not cheap and while I clearly have a long way to go, I am getting there, one day at a time. Sha lala la.

I also tracked down and visited the Save-A-Thon fabric on Flatbush and Caton Avenues to pick up some supply. I needed a grommet pliers (some musicians had a suggestion for my drumstick cases, which I will be putting back up on etsy soon) and vinyl. Which, I also managed to learn how to spell this week. Nice! It is nowhere near as convenient as the one on Bridge Street was, but I have to make do.

Sometime in the spring I am planning on a tour-de-force of the big three: JoAnn’s, Michael’s, and AC Moore’s, which I have never stepped inside of. The fun part of that trip will be that it leads to Staten Island, a mythical land where all three reside. I miss my Borough Park Rag Shop dearly as well, but this should be fun for laughs. I have been on Staten Island exactly twice, not counting driving through on the highway, so I am excited to see if I come back alive.

As for today, it is not even noon, and I have been more productive than I have in a long time.

To wit:
That is my first, and rather successful attempts at buttonholes and sewing vinyl. I am shocked! This machine is not too shabby. I sort of half-heartedly named her Tiffany a while back. I am in debt to her. The vinyl is for a new project I hope to make some inventory for, and the buttonholes were as well. I will leave you in suspense.

Go home. I can't.

I know I should not fall prey to commenting on New York times articles, at least the nimrods who are often profiled in "The Hunt" column of the real estate section, but these people really infuriated me.

WHY are you living in New York City, if what you are after is "tomblike silence" ? You are paying $10k to outfit your new three-quarters-of-a-million dollar condo in soundproof windows because you cannot stand noise? You bought on Atlantic Avenue, you are idiots, plural, both of you, so please move away.

Is my bitterness peeking through? That is because my husband and I are looking to relocate. The bitter comes from growing up in Queens and not being able to afford anything save a one-bedroom co-op across from where my parents live in the far northeastern reaches of Queens, where I grew up and spent most of my teenage years stoned on a corner, whining about how suburban it was. When I was 16, I used to scan the Village Voice classifieds at lunchtime and know I could totally afford the East Village with my hourly wage from the Hallmark store in Bayside. Then I went away to college, came back, and everyone else beat me to it. Bitter? I call it rage.

Rage that I cannot afford to live and raise a family in the same place I grew up. I think all that whining made me a stronger person and would gladly subject my children to the same thing. But that won't happen. New York City is out-of-control, crowded, policed, insane and too goddamned expensive. From Riverdale to Tottenville, these asshats from Ohio (sorry, but it is ALWAYS Ohio) are traipsing in, buying it up, and declaring it awesome. Staten Island was never cool, that was the point. That kept the balance on people who grew up and work here, so they had a place to go when they wanted kids. I have no idea where all our policeman and teachers and sanit guys live. I really don't.

so ill

so there is really no point to this post - no photos, no wise sentiments. Just me, bitchin'. My throat hurts so bad. my head hurts. my life aches.

let's caucus

I normally shrug off New Year's and resolutions and reflection, but it wasn't until I wrote it all down that I realized how much I have accomplished this year. This page has the good, the bad, the great and the ugly (can you make out "gained weight"?) but it really was a spectacular exercise.

So many things happened, huge hurtling changes. Most of it good. Much of it stressful but worth it. My husband was helpful to pipe in about my "freakouts" along the way. Thanks, dear. Yes, I did break out in a mysterious rash on my shins and fracture my foot a month before my wedding but I managed to get there, golfcarted in like a queen.

As to not completely ignore the Iowa goings-on - I am scared of the Huckabee people. Yes, the only thing typical urban smartypants, believing in evolution and all, has to say. As the results are called and counties are filled in, and they are calling it for Barack Obama - I am a little amazed. I know I am not alone. Maybe people really do think he is the harbinger of change. I admit, he sounds the most like it. But my friend Gayle makes the sticking point - can he play with the Beltway crowd? I am wont to think Hillary will know how to play the game, osmosis is a very powerful thing, especially in a place like the capital. Idealists have not fared well in recent memory. Hey, I was a mobile volunteer Deaniac in 2003. The standard is that no "candidate" can really get anything done in D.C. ... or can they? I would love to see someone prove me wrong.

And now, my own consumption and adding to the problem - Christmas presents! I will preface this by saying we took it easy this year, even if it didn't seem like it. We saw What Would Jesus Buy? a few weeks before Christmas. All my wrapping was recycled from other gifts, and by getting married, we actually got to consolidate gifts. Instead of a gift for, say, his mom from each of us, she got one from both of us. In fact, both his mom and dad got the same gift! Aren't we brilliant!?

In addition to the Gocco PG5, which I am terrified to use as I will then need to buy more lightbulbs express mailed from Japan, I received The Power Broker, which I have wanted to read for a while, and the gift du jour, a Diana+ camera.

I have the first roll sitting in my bag until I find a place that does 120 prints.




And this? This is just a gratuitous shot of Gen. Biscuits and Gravy. Paul got her for me (in June) at the Animal Care and Control (where they kill puppies and kittens. Please don't buy your animals!) in New Lots, proving once and for all just how much he loves me. They said she was given up, but I don't believe it. She's sweet.