Scraps (n. ,fem., singular)

Allow me to explain.

Well, the first part is easy. Surgery is tomorrow so no food or water after midnight. Thankfully my surgery is scheduled for 11am which, providing it’s not pushed back for any reason, means I should probably be starting sedation around 10 and won’t even care that I’m hungry
The other part has to do with the surgery, as well. See, at the pre-op yesterday I was given this antibacterial soap that I have to shower with both tonight (already done) and tomorrow morning. And, y’all, I kid you not, it smells exactly like deodorant tampons. Ladies, you know what I’m talking about. (Gents, if you do, I’m sorry.) I’m convinced it’s adding insult to injury, but at least it’s just for now.

The nerves started getting to me as I left the office, today. And the last two nights, with progessively wobbly feelings, did not have me looking forward to tonight. But, you know, I think I’m going to be okay after all. I went over to Spectrum’s for a couple of hours for cuddles and kisses and reassurances that it would all be fine (he’s so sweet to me, and that actually made me a little more wobbly for a moment, but I got it back together) and then when I got home I made some lavendar-chamomile tea to help keep me mellow. That’ll be the last thing I eat or drink until whatever the serve at the hospital tomorrow evening.

I’ll try and post sometime on Friday, after I get home and get settled, but I should be able to tweet once I’m into my room tomorrow night (follow me on twitter, username scrapsolife) since I’ll have my cell-phone with me. Happy thoughts would be greatly appreciated, gang, and I’ll see you on the flip side (less one internal organ).

Tags: gremlins, mogwai, tampons, soap, scents, nerves, surgery

Work, laundry, fighting with the credit card company over last month’s fraud issue (yeah, I had one of my cards hijacked and used for a single $1450 purchase in Redding, PA at a Lowe’s and they refunded that but none of the fees is caused or the extra finance charges and some dumb bitch tries to tell ME that current month activity isn’t included in computing finance charges but there is no other mathematical way to go from a starting balance of 2K and end up with an average daily balance of over 3K WITHOUT including the fraudulent charge in the computation and then had the NERVE to disconnect me rather than transfer me. Luckily the next lady I talked to had a brain and recognized that I did as well and cleared it up but DAMN people, get a freaking clue why don’t you), finished an article, drafted another article, inked 1 1/2 comics and when I go to scan and upload tomorrow’s (today’s) strip I find an email from a friend saying that the site is trying to give him a virus. The FUCK?!?!

Okay, now, to be fair and honest: I really do appreciate knowing that my site is apparently trying to fuck with people with a low-level trajan downloader. The thing is, I DON’T OWN THE SERVER IT’S ON. So, it occurs to me to update the WordPress install, thinking maybe there’s a security fix in the latest update and hope it doesn’t break the site (chances of that are what?) and then, well, I guess I can put a service request in with Dreamhost but here’s the thing: I can’t duplicate the issue. Even if I GO to the site on BOTH my home computers–one’s a Mac, no issue there, of course, and that’s the one I use to update the comic–the other runs Vista which isn’t affected by this supposed virus. Unless I drive to work now (ain’t happening cause I don’t go to that neighborhood after dark) I can’t verify the issue. So, no offense to the kind helpful friend that I know was just trying to be a good friend, I can’t be sure that it’s my site that’s really doing anything, the server, the program, what.

Anyway, after the meltdown the Chase lady caused I’m still of shaky ground, I’m behind on my deadlines, the apartment’s a wreck and I just don’t freaking know how to fix it all!!! Hence, meltdown #2 in a 6-hour period. Not your fault, friend, I know, but timing just really sucks sometimes.

Too sleepy to be witty.

Good news: January articles in the can and invoice submitted. Black boots dropped off for heel repair, apparently ‘no problem’, and will be ready Wednesday afternoon. Tomorrow’s comic was finished on Friday.

Not-so-good news: Accidental Florist was probably the least satisfying Jill Churchill novel I’ve ever read; where was the actual story? the mystery Jane and Shelley were supposed to solve? how in the hell did all that get pushed to the side for a wedding and such? and she referenced herself point-blank which just totally turned me off. I made the point of finishing this book during/after dinner and now I’m too sleepy to concentrate on Thursday’s comic. There is nothing on television and I actually resorted to the easy listening music channel for background, non-distracting music.

zzzzzzzz

Oh, apparently the property inspection went well? No further notice on my door so I guess I’m good. *shrug*

Not literally.

Today was going pretty well (aside from the cough returning with annoying force and the slight dizzines caused, more than likely, from the beginnings of an ear infection–I swear, I can’t seem to get around this wanna-be cold) until the tag end of the day when some unfortunate word-association mind-jumps had to go and make me all contemplative just before driving home. Now why’d it have to go and do that???

I suppose we have to revisit old battlegrounds and warwounds from time to time just to remind ourselves of what happened and how we learned from it or otherwise can avoid it again, I just didn’t need the extra stuff on my brain when I had two projects already in progress and a third pop into my brain that just /had/ to be done tonight as well (it’s not nice to ignore a muse, you never know when she’ll come back again).

Oh, well, I think I rambled enough in it for now and then got the one new project done and the preexisting two worked on. Tomorrow night will see completion of both by hook or by crook. Deadlines!!!

If it’s November, it must be a wordcount!

It’s a slow start for day 1. I may write more later but I really need to get to work on tidying the apartment so I’m willing to stop for the night here. If nothing else I’ll try and get up early tomorrow morning and write some. Friday night is out (I have plans!) but Saturday is the first write-in of the month. Oh, I should probably send out a reminder email, shouldn’t I? Adding it to the list!

This year’s story is turning out a lot differently already than I thought it would. I had written a short story for the Bard’s site several months ago and though that maybe it could be turned into a longer work along the genre of detective/medical examiner fiction. But as I was thinking about it today at work, paths started to branch out and suddenly I’m looking at subverting an American legend into the basis for some freakish cult set in Ohio and it’s beginning to sound a lot more like an M. Night Shamylan work than Patricia Cornwall. Not that I’m complaining, mind you, just remarking how easily the page turns and courses redirect.

Oh, and I don’t forsee another update before Sunday since I’ll have company this weekend. Not sure, other than the write-in, how much writing or computer time I’ll have. Good luck WriMos!

Seriously, folks, totally ADD tonight. The day started with a trip to the vampire’s; maybe he withdrew my attention span in the process?

Mom was completely unsurprised about me running into KB last night. I walk up to her and say ‘You’ll never guess who I saw at the coffee house last night?’ and she guessed. It’s not supposed to work like that! Then she tried to come up with other people I could run into this week out of nowhere, including the first husband and an even older high school boyfriend. If I do, I may just have to go hide somewhere.

Speaking of going somewhere, Palmie and I have picked our destination for the bribery trip in December. See, Palmie has promised she’ll complete NaNo this year and I told her if she did we’d go on a mini-break to St Augustine and the Jacksonville Zoo! Well, today she emailed me a link to the very kitschy motel in St Aug. and I’ll be making the res tomorrow. It’ll be Zoo, hotel/dinner followed by sunrise on the beach then Old Town and outlet shopping. A fitting reward for being tied to ones computer all previous month, no?

Tonight I tried to do research; that lasted about an hour or so. Then I tried to read. No go. Then I played solitaire (this time with a full deck), couldn’t even concentrate there. I’m just restless and scattered tonight. So many things to do. So many things I /want/ to do. None of them happening. Which means this weekend will be workiful, but that’s okay.

Nothing else planned and the PiC is out of town.

I ran into someone at the grocery store that I haven’t thought of in years: Chef Reid from my culinary school years. He works in the bakery there, is married, has a kid. I recgonized his voice before I recognized his face and then stood there dumbfounded. When I met him, I was a different person. I had a different goal in life. It was only 7 years ago.

He asked what I was doing and I answered: “I’m back to bookkeeping.”

His response was, I suppose, typical: “That’s a really expensive degree not to be using.”

Now, I agree wholeheartedly that it was a very expensive two years that, some would say, I threw away when I decided to go back to a desk job. However I totally think I made the most responsible decision I could considering that working in hospitality had me unable to pay my rent and car payment in the same month and all those old debts from the first failed marriage? Forget it. Upside down doesn’t even begin to cover the damage. So when my old position at work opened up just when I was considering getting a second job to be able to pay my bills, I saw it as a sign, an opportunity to be responisble to my financial committments and build a better life for myself (wow, that sounds pithy, but it’s true).

When I left the Plantation (which, only a year later, went bankrupt from mismanagement–I mean, this is also the place that bounced two paychecks on me in less than 5 months) I sorta had the ‘been there, done that’ feeling. I’d done what I set out to do: I got a culinary degree and worked as a Pastry Chef. Opportunities to advance in this little town weren’t many and I didn’t want to relocate. For a while I thought I’d open my own bakery some day, but that dream gradually faded and, honestly, I don’t miss it or regret it.

I went back to school. Eventually got my AA and was set to pursue a Studio Art degree when life, once again, went pear-shaped and I was, again, divorced and needing to support myself. I liked the lifestyle I had become acustomed too and it occurred to me that I was in my career and I was okay with that. Art was something I could still do on my own time and, unlike other artists, I wouldn’t have to starve in the process.

That’s been my last seven years.

“I’m back to bookkeeping,” I said.

Why did I leave it at that? People who know me, know that being a bookkeeper is not all there is to me. Why couldn’t I say, “I’m back to bookkeeping BUT I’m also a paid writer for eHow, I started my own webcomic in May and I’m writing a graphic novel.” Why couldn’t I have even been a bit flippant and say, “Well, yeah, but my guests really appreciate that degree when I entertain and, wow, it sure made doing those Medieval feasts so much easier to run.”

I am not /just/ a bookkeeper. And, yet, that’s all I said. I feel like I should go back there and tell him: I’m not a failure, I met my goals, then my goals changed. Don’t look at me like I’ve tossed away two years and $30K. Those years were a big turning point for me, not just where education and career are concerned. I turned into myself during those two years and if I hadn’t at least tried I don’t know where I’d be now. I don’t regret the choice I made, please don’t regret the time you spent teaching me.

So last night, after I totally had nothing to say, I decided I needed a little down-time for the brain so at 9pm I put on CSI (the first time I’ve turned the tv on in several days) and decided to play a little solitaire.

Now, I really like the tactile quality of actual playing cards as opposed to play on the computer so I regularly play a few hands, and I regularly win. In fact, its sort of a thing, now: I play til I’ve won at least once. Not last night. After half an hour I still had yet to even come close to winning. I wasn’t even getting all of the aces on a regular basis. And one time I could have sworn I was on the first go-through with the spare cards but the final set was only one, not three. I convinced myself I’d not payed attention, though, and that it must have been a second go-through after all.

I finally gave up and went about tidying the front of the apartment and then decided to work on some productive bits; including the paintings for the bedroom. I set out the four canvases on the table and grab the main reference book only to see exactlly why I wasn’t winning at solitaire: I had used playing cards as bookmarks. 5 cards were still holding places in the book. Yup, I was literally ‘not playing with a full deck.’

* * *

Now, some people may wonder–indeed I’ve questioned myself about this very thing once or twice–why I put such silly, somewhat embarassing things about myself on this blog. The way I see it, it’s only fair. I mean, I use this space to rant and whine on a semi-regular basis so it’s only right that those of you who read through all those bog-downed-blogs get to laugh with me when I do something completely bone-headed like the above. Trust me, I laughed at myself last night when I realized the error.

* * *

After work (one of the slowest days in the history of work-kind) I met the Bard for supper and we strategized on the upcoming NaNoWriMo. Under two months to go!!! Once home I picked up the brushes once again and did a bit more work on the canvases before palmie called. The conversation was just getting sillier and sillier, and the social issue she called to discuss became a running joke of “I just don’t get it” that became even more appropriate when I told her to get her ass over here and we ended up watching Clueless. It was exactly what was needed to dispell some of the confusion from earlier in the day. Thank heavens for good friends!!!

* * *

And, finally, the song that’s been running through my head this evening. I adore Deirdre Flint’s quirky lyrics and Past Life Regressed has one of the most infectious melodies out there, kind of a big band swing of sorts meets electric guitar. I don’t know. It just works. And it’s funny, even when its more comiseratory.

Because I got so very much done this weekend.

Needless to say, no plans materialized from RockStar (so glad I didn’t clear my Saturday night on that ‘maybe’ earlier this week) but it was just as well. Friday night I went through 7 boxes of office stuff: sorting and tossing, those now-empty boxes are being filled by Izzy since she’s getting ready to move next month. Then yesterday I did a bit more organizing, edited my third eHow article for the month (whew! contract fulfilled for this month!), and drew Tuesday’s RA. Thursday’s is almost finished as well.

Then a really odd thing happened. Last weekend we has such hellacious storms that power went out for several hours. Well, last Saturday night (after the storms the previous night) I noticed that the tv picture was a bit, uh, off. Basically there was a big green splotch in the lower left corner and the left vertical third had a decidedly blue tinge. I mean, you could see everything, but the colors were off. Mom had been talking about getting me a bigger set for Christmas this year anyway, and she’s saying it might just be an early gift with this development. In the mean time, if it got to me too much I could grab the tv from Drew’s room since it wasn’t being used.

Exposition over, on to today: I decide that (what with Palmie and I planning to hang out on Friday and as movies will probably happen) today would be a good day to grab the tv so I clear everything but the modem/router off the stand and head to Mom’s. When I get there (and Mom isn’t, but I have a key) I see that Drew’s tv is not just like mine (like I’d thought) and that I’d need to borrow the DVD player as well–I just decided to wait until I could talk to Mom this week. No biggie.

Knowing that the few shows I still watch will be on tonight, I put the tv back up on the stand and turn it on to make sure moving it didn’t completely kill it, right? Dude. It not only worked, the color was fixed. Seriously. The hell? I mean, there’s still a minor ghost of a shadow in the lower left corner, but it’s not bright green and the blue tint is gone. Go figure. Obviously something must have been loose and moving the set around jiggled it back into place (I’d figured the set had received a minor zap from the lightening last week, since it was coincidental) but how did it come loose since I haven’t moved the tv in months and months? Really.

Who knows, I’m just glad whatever it is decided to resolve itself. You know, I never did think to give it a good whack when it messed up. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do when stuff like that happens? Whack the hell out of it and get it to straighten up?

So I go out looking for the rest of my supplies for the mod today. I got a late start since I didn’t get up ’til eleven (but since I went to bed at three it was a normal nights sleep, so to speak) but found the right paints at Home Depot. It’s a different brand, but it’s still made for plastic so I think it’ll work. Paint acquired I go in search for the more specific odds and ends which I figured I’d find at the local Scrapbook store.

Now, I’ve frequented this store for the last, oh, seven years or so. The owner knows me by sight, even today when I haven’t been in there in quite some time. She thought I must have moved away since I had been so scarce but I told her, the truth, that I just hadn’t been scrapping lately. In fact, I went mostly digital. Then I commented that I had thought to come out to one of their crops with my laptop and harddrive and hang out. To which she basically said “don’t bother.” Now, I understand that digital scrapbooking doesn’t help her business all that much, but I have been known to spend several hundred dollars a quarter there in the past, I still buy my albums and pages there (some of the more pricier components to a scrapbook, price per item compared), direct people who come into work looking for special papers (we’re a print shop, not an overstock paper store) there, tell my friends to go there because I support local businesses, and go there when I need specialty items that I know they carry, even if one of the big box stores carries it too. Now I get a kiss-off because I’m no longer part of her target audience? Well, excuse me…

In fact, the whole experience kinda put me off in general. I had been planning on then going across to the Miracle to see a movie at 2:05 but by the time I was finished at SBM and then went into JoAnn’s (consolation yarn shopping since they didn’t have the rub-ons I wanted) it was 10 minutes to the film and I was no longer in a commaraderie-mood to share a theatre who however many other people were going to see Becoming Jane.

I’m not mad. If I’d been mad I would have told Karen to take the $3.50 pack of crystal stickers I was buying and shove them up her ass. I didn’t. But I don’t think I feel the same loyalty I did as early as this morning. I was just surprised. And I don’t like to be surprised, not like that, the unpleasant type. Anyway, I came home, ate lunch, and retaped the mouse. I decided to go with just making dams for the openings on the mouse-top and going ahead as planned. Of course, as soon as I applied the first coat out on the patio the thunder started to bump. Oh well, it may take a bit longer to dry between coats, but I’ll get it done.

Three police cruisers parked outside your building when you arrive home.

I’m still not exactly sure what happened. The car at the far end of the building had doors open and the hood raised. As no one was in handcuffs or being patted down but the car seemed to be in the process of a search, I can only conclude that it had been broken into or vandalized. The six officers busying themselves around the area was looking in various places, in bushed nearby, etc., so perhaps things were taken from the car–maybe even an engine cable or belt or some such–and they were hoping it was tossed nearby?

I have no idea. But I think if anything happened to that vehicle (by far one of the older ones in our lot, rather dusty and rundown looking) it must have been for a specific reason (revenge?) or something left in plain sight on a seat. This is what I’m telling myself to keep me from worrying overmuch about my own car just a dozen spaces down which is not even a year old. I do refrain from keeping anything (of value or not) in the car, so that’s not really an issue.

Still, not something that is reassuring.

Today was /not/ the gentle slide into the second part of the week. Oh no, my friend, not by a long shot.

First there was introspection. This wasn’t bad, it just led to overtaxing the brain way too early and a smidge of crankiness about mid-morning. Mostly having to do with the altruism of art, and whether art can really fulfill its destiny if it’s not shared. Even the most obscure piece of art is the artist trying to convey something. If no one sees it, it’s essentially the same as a tree falling in an empty forest. Does it make a sound? Does it serve it’s purpose? Are any artists truly altruistic, doing art solely for their own eyes and fulfilling art’s mission? I told you it was introspective. Might still get a good op-ed sort of piece out of it, if I can corral the thoughts together.

Then there was a bit of a freak-out mid-afternoon. Granted, existential crises are generally not a good thing, this one wasn’t really bad, it just harbinged a moment of clarity that I’m not quite fond of. I’m not panicking or taking drastic measures of any sort, it was just one of those ‘Oh. Hell.’ moments. Basically, if you’re only as good as your last [insert benchmark here], what do my most recent (and recent is oh-so-relative) relationships say about me? And by this I mean long-term (though that’s a relative concept as well). MrSoCal was certainly meaningful, but it was brief, so I have a hard time considering it my ‘last great love’ (no offense, if you’re reading this, MrSoCal, but if you really think about it I think you’ll agree). So that leaves the debacle that fell between the last divorce and MrSoCal which has been over almost a year now. I /really/ don’t want to be identified by that mess, so what’s a girl to do?

Let me reiterate: I am not panicking. Nor am I about to delve into online dating again (ugh, been there, done that about 8 years ago and that’s really all there is to say about that). Nor, yet, am I evaluating every single man I know as a possible paramour. No. Do not take this as Scraps is desparate. I really do appreciate the finer points of solitude and being my own person and independent. The wonder that maybe I’ve used up my ‘chances,’ romantically speaking, is not fear inducing (because, really, I think I’ve had at least my share and maybe another person’s as well) but is met with immediate acceptance. Unfortunate, but c’est la vie.

And palmie and I discussed it, as we’re prone to do, and she opined that what I look for in general (mutual respect, understanding, honest communication, and non-stifling companionship while retaining both parties independence) is not, if fact, hard to find… it’s freaking impossible. I’m inclined to agree. Of course, then we deviated into discussing the merits of vulgar humor within 14 messages and decided that we deserved medals for that sort of segue.

But wait, there’s more.

Because these things happen in threes, of course I would get an email regarding some changes to my current writing agreement that would send me into a momentary tizzy just as I was girding my brain for some code-hacking of the Oldenfeld site. Of course, it was due. I managed to compose a coherent email detailing my main concerns, received some clarifications, and we were able to reach a compromise that everyone is good with. Whew! Still, for a minute things seemed rather pear-shaped.

I got no research done tonight, but I did get content updates done. There are more which I’ll try to fit around the meeting tomorrow night and chip away at things throughout the weekend. I also need to solidify a writing schedule for this month, my workout schedule, and spend some more time on Random Acts… before the weekend is out. It seems like a lot, but the benefit is that I have absolutely no other plans, so it’s doable. I think that’s my theme for this evening: it’s doable!

I cleared out almost 200 spam accounts on the Oldenfeld forum then made out the master to-do list for the party, Saturday, and got to work. I’ve moved furniture, cleared side tables, started the basic decorating, packaged the favors, and verified the disposable items. I’m in pretty good shape, I think.

I also managed to tidy up one of the hall closets in the process of digging out the party supplies, as well as the floor of the pantry (I’m still not sure exactly what happened in there, but it involved some non-perishables, a gallon of emergency water that decided it didn’t want to live, and a bag of what might have been, at one point in time, potatoes. They were unrecognizable, despite what the label said, and had formed a rather strong attachment to a partial box of citronella candles. I decided it was the better part of valor to bury them as one…

Anyway!

The largest part of the decorating is still to be done and almost all the food but Thursday will be soon enough for all of that. Wednesday afternoon and evening I’ll be hanging out with my cousin who is interviewing at FSU this week so not much will get done tomorrow night. But I have until 3:30pm on Saturday to have everything finished, so I anticipate that will be sufficient time (the party doesn’t start ’til 4, but I want to give myself a few moments to chill and collect before guests arrive).

(the following is not a rant, I am merely bemused beyond belief)

So I’m minding my own business, inking in the next RA strip, bouncy because my cruise art was just delivered and my cell phone rings. I don’t recognize the number.

Me: (in my work voice) Hello?
Person on the other end:[mumble mumble slur mumble]
Me: I’m sorry, I believe you have the wrong number.
PotOE: (slightly more coherent) Is this Dwight?
Me: There’s no one here by that name.
PotOE: (no very clear) No, I said ‘are you white?’
Me: … Uh, yeeees.
PotOE: Oh, sorry, I’ve got the wrong number.

Now just wait a cotton-pickin’ minute! They called me, unintelligible, and I figured out that this wasn’t someone I knew. Granted, the people who have my phone number are predominantly Caucasian, the people who misdial and call me by accident do have a certain dialect to their voice (what I can understand of it) but just because someone is ‘not white’ it doesn’t automatically mean that they have the wrong number.

I just, I can’t, I don’t… no! I mean, really, is it a crime to answer my own cell phone just because I happen to be White? And what if I wasn’t. You know, if I had the composure and swiftness of mind of my friend blb I think I might have been tempted to fuck with them a bit and say I was not, in fact, white. What would have happened then? Would I have been accused of being uppity for having clear diction and no discernable accent (it should be noted that while the drawl does appear from time to time, generally it only does so when I’m on a roll, drunk, with friends, or all of the above). Seriously?

Anyway, this far trumps anything else I might have had to say today, so it became the blog. Enjoy and beware, my white friends: your skin color apparently dictates whether its a wrong number or not.