I'm a Good Teacher, But...

This is Bert. She's very snuggly. Sometimes she's rather needy. I don't mind either way, I adore her.

She's my cat. Of the three cats in the household, she is the one who has claimed me as her own. Bert doesn't mind snuggling with Rick. But if I'm available, she drops him and comes over to me. Even if she's in his arms.

That's an indescribably lovely, warm feeling.

So perhaps, in the interest of accuracy, I'm really her person, more than she's my cat. I think that's a better categorization.



So tonight I was sewing. I made a bag for our trip this week. (We're going on our honeymoon.) Bert decided she absolutely needed to be in my lap.

It was cute and endearing for about 15 seconds. And then two things happened. I couldn't do the things I needed to do while sitting at a sewing machine. (I know!! Arrgh, right?) Worse, the second thing was that she decided that her balance was compromised and she needed to stabilize.



Feline stabilizers are more commonly known as "claws". She applied them to the tops of my thighs. It hurt. I was unhappy.

So poor little Bert got dumped off my lap til my bag was done and I could snuggle with her properly.

Cuz, truth to tell, there's no screaming way I'm teaching this cat to sew. I'm patient, but not godlike.

 

Pinch Me, I'm Dreaming...

Springtime! Baseball!! America's favorite pastime!!

Ahh. There's nothing like it.

To look out the window upon a snowy landscape and hear the dreamy tones of a baseball game on the radio. Indeed, the only thing better is for my team to win that game.

That happened today. Cleveland Indians 12, Houston Astros 2. It was Opening Day for spring training Grapefruit League play.

Ahhhhhh. This is better than waiting for the groundhog to emerge.

 

Wordless Wednesdays: Two Glorious Days of Winter Blanketing!

Winter Lace
Originally uploaded by sunspotting.

 

Outside CSU's Wolstein Center

Debate day in Cleveland! In an election year with staggering historic resonance, it's nice -- amazing, even -- to see our small, fair city featured so spectacularly.

(And the readers wait with bated breath to see if, yes, even in this solemn, sacred moment, Rebecca can find the element of funny.)

(OF COURSE I CAN! Would I disappoint you?)

After 8 straight days of sun and reasonable weather, we have a winter snow warning through 4am tomorrow! Over 350 schools are closed. It just figures! I'm relieved and glad to see it's not just me that happens to on an important trip!

(I hope these intrepid souls on the many corners -- not just this one! -- have thermoses full of warm drinkables. It's miserable out here.)

 

Sweeping Changes

Spring cleaning time! I know it's early, but there's more than enough to keep me busy til actual spring. More importantly, I intend to have a useful studio. Because darn it! I really am fed up (with no one to blame but myself) that the dining room is used for just about everything BUT dining! So: spring cleaning is in full swing!

 

Sun On Backyard Snow

*Another* gorgeous sunny day! Where am I, really, and what did they do with cloudy Cleveland?

More from the After Party

Very fly dancing.

Dance, Dance, D/Evolotion...

Oh. That's SOOOOO WACK, Nicole! But you got good moves anyway! It's these FELT SLIPPERS! They make EVERYONE feel like Brian Boitano. Or Paula Abdul. Or SOMEBODY.

Slip Slidin Away?

Colectivo After Party gets a lift!

Not a Test

Textile dream.

Booty Call

Puffed corn. Called 'Pirate's Booty'. So Joe has his finger in the booty. Technically.

After Party!

After approximately $3000 raised, we need some decompression time! Yay for charity auctions!

Handmade by ME

MY bag. I made this. I hope it raised a bunch of money for our group!

(I later learned that bidding went up to $50, and it was especially heated once the auctioneer explained the bag is reversible. All of that made me feel good.)

$20 Gets You The Whole Table!

Man, that's a lot o booze. Great raffle idea.

BUZZ Beer Introduces New Dortmunder

Who knew Arabica Coffee House would branch out *QUITE* like this?!? Is Drew Carrey back in Cleveland?

Stick With Cleveland

The auction night is here! Wish us luck, or visit this website to donate directly. We are trying to fix as many of Cleveland's problems as possible through neighborhood activism and empowerment.

Full House at Quicken Loans Arena

25 seconds left and the Q is still packed. For what? For SCRUBS, that's what! That's how much this town loves our basketball. Or at least, is willing to give the revamped team a chance. For all that the revamped team hasn't even made it onto the court yet!

Help! I Need Someone. Help!

And we're off. Eric Snow is the new Larry Hughes.

Chalk Talk

Danny Ferry, General Manager of the Cleveland Cavaliers, addressess season ticket holders. Great timing! Yesterday, he orchestrated a 3-team trade that radically changed the identity of the team. Insightful. Interesting. Except the annoying man next to me keeps whistling for the microphone and making (NOT VERY) smart remarks.

The Funny in this event? The first season ticket holder to stand up and ask a question didn't ask about basketball or the players or the recent huge, block-busting 3-team trade that changed the face of the Cavaliers. No, she asked why, when there are inconveniently enormous lines for all of the other elevators, must there be a reserved therefore and almost never used elevator for the media? The crowd went silent, Danny Ferry's jaw dropped, and as he tried to answer something that was arena operations (and therefore WELL out of his area) Rick asked me if it was his imagination, or was it really possible if that crazy woman was his ex-wife? Given the mumblings and rumblings of the rest of the season ticket holders, I imagine that was a lot of what they were wondering too. Nutjob.

Everyone else asked questions about basketball.

 

Sunset Thru Ballpark Lightposts

Yep. It's the sun. The sighting was positively confirmed. I didn't think we'd see him today, given the 4" of snowblanket dropped on this morning's commute, but it's nice to be surprised!

Box of Wu

Woohoo! Wu = happy! Packages in the mail make me happy. I've been waiting for this for a month!

Cozy

Aw. No one snuggles in like Cleopatra. I wish I could join her.

the moon was wearing a jaunty cap

the moon is wearing a jaunty cap
Originally uploaded by sunspotting.

There was a lunar eclipse last night. I love eclipses!!

Amazingly, the weather cooperated. We had clear skies! This doesn't happen often. Usually when something remarkable and astronomical happens, Cleveland misses it because of our chronic cloud problem.

I got my act together and guessed about how to use the long exposure feature on my camera.

(Yes. Guessed. I have ADHD. I simply cannot read manuals. Well, not past the first sentence. I'll read that 7 or 8 times before I realize there's no chance I'm going to progress...)

Here's a selection from last night's majestic "light show", in case you missed it. Enjoy!

 

Whaddayaknow...

Well, huh.

Look at the holiday I missed yesterday: Northern Hemisphere Hoodie Hoo Day.

What a bummer! If I'd have known, you can bet I'd have participated.

Run outside, wave my arms, and yell, "Hoodie HOO!!" to banish winter? Why not? Can't hurt, and my neighbors already think I'm a little odd. I may as well go in whole hog!

And if it works, I'll have your gratitude, right? ;-)

(So should I wait til next year, I should I call for a do over and celebrate a little late, like tomorrow?)

 

Wordless Wednesdays: Atmospheric

 

See Ya Later, Blue Sky

The lovely blue is retreating behind the velvety clouds, already releasing intermittent fluffy snowflakes. Nevermind; I didn't let myself get lulled into a false sense of early Spring. We can have blizzards as late as the end of April. (Last year, I sat snow-covered at Jacobs Field on Opening Day to watch our 'Boys of Summer'.) I just feel it is best to enjoy as much meteorological joy as is given in gray Cleveland.

Seen Today in the Parking Lot of the Rec

...judging by the other bumper stickers on the back of this van (and the Lusty Wrench license plate frame) I'm guessing she wouldn't be Chosen for Slytherin...

I simultaneously sent it to Rick when I blogged it, and he responded almost immediately, "Voldemort VOTES??!!?" *chuckle*

 

Good Morning, Blue Skies!

Good Morning, Blue Skies!
Originally uploaded by sunspotting.

Glorious! Just beautiful! Gotta love that color. And those clouds? I suppose it's redundant to call them heavenly...

They really look like they ought to be the topping on some very decadent dessert. Especially the one with the bit of pink. That one reminds me of the strawberry marshmallows I made for the Superbowl party we attended a few weeks ago.

Nature sure is splendid!

SevenUP!Date #5: How I Became Tita Barbie

Wow. This post is a looooong time coming. It'll be fairly long, too. Sorry, ahead of time.

Quick refresher: back in January I agreed to participate in a meme with my friend Melissa. A meme, for those who don't know, is an idea or a game that spreads from person or group of people to another person or group of people, usually for fun, usually via the internet. This was a game that got players to share 7 odd things about themselves. I chose to explain the odd things in later posts. However, the later posts got pre-empted by other things. So I'm picking things up now. I'm on #5;

5. There's a village on the other side of the planet where I'm known as Tita Barbie. And it's not an insult (there; we all know it would be here: I'm 5'2", size 14). Of course, Mattel would never let Barbie eat dinu goan and 'duck's last meal', which they proudly fed me, and (armed with the knowledge of what they were before eating them) I gladly ate.

At Christmas in 2003 through the 3rd week of January, Rick took me to the Philippines to meet his father's side of the family. It was an experience. The first thing I noticed was that NO ONE in the world decorates for Christmas like they do in the Philippines. It was fantastic. Office buildings in Manila had huge nativity scenes that scaled their sheer sides for 6 and 7 stories, brilliantly lit, and occasionally animated! And everywhere there were parols. Just completely gorgeous. So totally beautiful; I was dazzled.

We left Manila for the village of my now father-in-law's childhood. Part of the reason for the timing of our visit was the family reunion being held in this village. The reunion travels, depending on which branch of the family hosts it, and this year one of Rick's cousins was the host. Our presence was auspicious. It was a big deal to have American relatives present at the reunion. It took place between Christmas and New Year's Day, I met dozens of people I am now related to who remain fuzzy in my memory, yet welcomed me more warmly than my family ever has. And that really is saying something.

So one evening shortly before New Year's we were having dinner at one cousin's home. Her 18 month old niece came out to say hello before bedtime, and was passed from woman to woman to be held and cooed over. (She was very very adorable.)

I have to interject a little about this particular dinner. This evening was a little challenging for me. Most of our time up til this point had been fairly 'normal' (?): at least, I hadn't noticed that women and men had been segregated, if they had been before. But on this occasion, the separation was plain and stark and there was nothing I could do about it. It was uncomfortable and a bit frightening, because I'd been in the country less than a week, knew these people not well at all, and was now being forced away from the only 2 people in the country I DID know, who were off with the men. Worse yet? The men had ALL the alcohol. There was none for the women. And the knife twisting in my ribs? GAHH!!! All they wanted to do was talk about weddings and babies!!!! Torture!! It was girl time with girl talk, turning pink with hearts dotting every single 'i'!!! Uggghhh.

(I wear combat boots. My favorite colors are olive green, blue, and black. I like punk rock and world music. I have an open mind, but I detest being pidgeon-holed. I felt for all the world like I was being pidgeon-holed that night. But then it changed...)

So anyway, there's this lovely little girl, and she's making her way around the circle of women. Every once in a while she looks at me, and omigoodness do her eyes get BIG! Each time she looks at me, they grow a bit more!! It gets to be my turn and she's too shy. The women try to get her to go to me and she steadfastly buries herself into the nearest shoulder.

They apologized to me! "What? No! Don't apologize -- I'm a stranger, you should be glad she doesn't want to come to me. This is good!" But no, no, go to Tita Rebecca, they insist; and of course she doesn't. After about 20 minutes, finally she looks at me and points:

"Barbie!" --Little Girl

"OooooOOOOOooooooo! Aaahh! Barbie!" (disolves into knowing laughter and excited chatter in Tagalog) --Various Aunts and Great Aunts

"...uuuummm..." --Me

"She watches 'Barbie Swan Lake' every day -- twice, sometimes 3 times -- and she thinks you are her hero, come to visit her!! That is why she is too shy!"

And the name stuck.

I collect Barbie dolls now. Not the run of the mill, crappy, cheerleader/prostitute-dressing typical Barbie that every child wants. I collect the unusual ones. I like the race- and culture-specific ones, that have culturally correct costumes. Like Diwali Barbie. I'd love to find a Fulla Doll. And there's a whole series of comic book character dolls that I wish were in my collection. They're not for playing with, I just like them. :-) Plus, I'm (aparently) their 'aunt' now...

When Life Imitates Art

The tv is on so there's a little background noise to keep me company. Ordinarily I'd have sports on, because that's what I've been raised/conditioned to have on tv on Sundays. Since there's no NBA action other than the All Star Game today, and that's on cable (which we don't have, so I don't get to watch it), I'm sorta stuck with whatever's left on broadcast. Sadly, that would be the movie Twister on ABC.

Hilariously, there's been a high wind warning for most of the northeast counties of Ohio for the duration of this movie.

 

At the Fiber Gathering

"WOW!!" That's what Imogen said when she was playing Ryken's drums! Look how happy these kids are. This brings me such joy. What fun!

 

The Day After

... and I'm still glowing with Valentine-y bliss.

But for those of you not feeling it, here's a link to something fun from Despair.com.

 

It's THAT Day...

...so I have to say it.

Happy Valentine's Day, World! I'm in love, and there's no holding me back from this one. I hope for all of you out there the kind of love I've found.

There's an article out there encouraging women who haven't found Mr. Right, to settle for "Mr. Eh, He's Right Here, I S'pose...". I would argue against that, having made that choice once before. It is harmful to the person on the receiving end of that relationship. It is painful for everyone involved, once the detangling process is begun, and the pain lasts much longer than the divorce. No matter how long the divorce seems to last.

There's nothing like waiting for the partner who suits your needs just right.

I'm NOT saying "I waited for Mr. Perfect"!!!! I'll tell you right now that there's no such animal. But perfect for me? Oh yes.

He/She is out there. And totally worth it.


I love you, Rick!! You were worth the wait.

 

Wordless Wednesday: Little Mr Wickett

Ribs! (1x1, in wool)

This is going to be fingerless mittens. My first ever. Third time trying in-the-round knitting with dpns, but the first in an attempt to make something. (the others were practices)

Ravelry Ravings

I'm a member of this way cool online community called Ravelry. It's for people who knit and crochet. I spent a fair part of this evening messing around with my site and checking out some of the groups.

I am soooooo in love with this site.

There's even a site for people who knit and crochet and have a basenji. Such a cool niche! So perfect for ME.




And the part about "basenjis + yarn" that's especially funny is that they really REALLY don't mix. Cleopatra eats wool as often as she can get it. Plus, this is a very odd breed, with unbelievable quirks. I mean, dogs who yodel? It's true. But you don't want them near the yarn stash. So now we have our own support group.

Which is nice.

 

WIP: Embroidery

I think I'll finish it tonight. It's really coming along! My working title is Oriole in the Pillow Ticking. I may have to do a whole series.

NBA=Nice Big Attitudes

I'm embroidering in front of the TV. Happens to be a whole string of pro basketball games, the last of which (such a treat!!) is a Cavs game. I'm a big fan.

It's nice, somewhat neutral background noise, and I know what's going on without having to constantly keep my eyes on the tube. And that's critical, if I want to keep from poking myself with the embroidery needle. Play-by-play guys help me out loads here.

So when the commentators began warming us up for the switch to another game upon the conclusion of the Heat-Lakers game, I almost jabbed myself.

"Stay tuned after this game for the afternoon's big show, when we take you to the Carmello-LeBron game..."

Since when do we refer to the teams as not their names but the names -- the FIRST names -- of their marquee players?

Permit me to be a bit more than bleaaahhhhh... I don't know what... about that.

Yeah, actually, I do have a problem with that. I couldn't put my finger on it at first but I think I've identified my issue.

LeBron is frequently compared to Michael Jordan. But my criticism of MJ for the greatest part of his great career was that he was not a team player. For his team to win, the best bet was simply "get the ball to MJ, and let him do his thang".

James, on the other hand, is just as likely to pass the ball as he is to shoot it. He IS a team player, and emphasises his teammembers when he talks about wins in postgame interviews. I admire that. He pumps them up in practice and on the floor and from the bench. I adore that. Better yet? He does this, frequently anonymously, for the communities of Cleveland and Akron as well. He is, justifiably, a hero of sorts to many. But he would not see himself that way. All the more admirable!!

I think he would have a problem with the sportscasters refering to his team as his name alone. He knows it's not him alone on the boards that makes the "W" appear in the column.

So, phooey on the ego-obsessed sportsdudes on ABC. I hope they settle down and return to using team names, and keep the teams in the forefront. It is a team sport, after all.

Happy Birthday, Tim!

Chocolate Cassata Cake to go with the delicious sinigang, afritada, lumpia, and other filipino cuisine. YUM! And celebrating with many friends, and LOTS of comic book talk, too! What fun!

Happy Birthday, Daddy!

 

 

 

 

 

I hope you have a great day. I hope you bowl really well tonight! Happy, happy, happy, special day! I love you.

 

"Someone Margaret Chose to Love"

I just watched an episode of Bones, a rerun; one I had never seen before. Called "A Boy in a Bush", it involved a foster mother and her three foster boys, one of which was the victim of foul play.

The premise of this series is that there is an elite group of research scientists (labeled "squints" by the FBI -- great nickname, wish I had one that cool) often called upon by the FBI for use as forensic specialists in peculiar cases. Thing is, the FBI is getting accustomed to calling on the "squints". The main characters are a very emotive Special Agent Seeley Booth (David Boreanaz) and the clinical Dr. Temperance Brennan, aka "Bones" (Emily Deschanel). They are perfect foils for each other, and in the three seasons it's been on I have delighted in how their relationship has become more intense and complicated, yet remained steadfastly platonic. The other characters are amazingly complex and compellingly intwining, too! I love this show. Damn this writer's strike. (I wish those fat cat execs would cave and and give the creative class their just due. And anticipate it, the next freaking time, will you please? Save us all the agony of so-called "reality tv". There's nothing real about (>snort< heavy derision) 'The Donald's' hair.)

As it turned out, The Bad Guy had some old dirt on the foster mom and was using the two remaining foster brothers (who were blood brothers) to hurt her by hurting the one foster brother.

The title of this post is the quote that Bones' character said to one of the foster boys as she was trying to find the bad guy. It totally worked.

Not just on the character. Not just according to script.

I'm adopted.

This is the first time in all of my TV watching days I've seen anything like this in any kind of drama or sit-com type of show. (I'm not in the habit of watching reality TV. Perhaps it happens there; I'd rather not know. I'd feel completely betrayed if it happened there.) Not since Sesame Street has something moved me like this.

OK, 'Brennan's' parents were killed when she was young (we find out in later episodes only her mother is dead and her father is on the lam) and she spent her young life in foster care. So she was, in (engineered, make no mistake) rare fashion, able to connect with this child (and therefore this viewer, who spent part of her first 9 days in foster care -- apparently a blissful experience, if my babybook-preserved letter from my fostermother is true testament) and get the name of the unsub from him. Case solved!!

The gut-punch, though, was the quote, "someone Margaret chose to love". Margaret is the foster-mother.

Because that describes my parents. Mom & Daddy couldn't have kids because of their own biology. They had to rely on someone else's "cast offs". I was the first cast off they took in. That was June 14, 1968, the very luckiest day of my life. Whereas June 5, my birthday, has historically been my most UNluckiest, regardless of the year. Later years confirmed for me my birthday's curse. (Robert F. Kennedy Sr.'s family may agree with my judgement.)

It all boils down to my being very happy with being an adoptee. (I am.)

I know that it must have been torture for my bio-egglady to give me up. 9 months incubation time? It must have been very difficult to give up whatever baby came out, let alone: I know what kind of cookies and cheesecakes I can bake. (Please don't think I'm trivializing things. I kick all kinds of arse in the kitchen.) And my creative mind? Also, I've been preggers 9 times. Sadly, I can't make it past the first trimester. Maybe Rick and I will give it another go; maybe it'll be this year. It needs to be soonish. I'm a little skittish about going into double digits. But that's my cross to bear. Not hers. (though perhaps her biology? Still: NOT her fault.)(Hmm. As far as genetics knows...)(NO!! Not her fault, no matter what!!)(Sorry, whoever you are!! You don't deserve that! It's the petrie dish, not you.)

ANYWAY....

I LOVE MY PARENTS. My parents are the people who raised me. They are English-German (specifically Prussian) (Mom) and German (Daddy), whereas I am Swedish, Scottish, Irish, English, and Apache. I was born in Montana. I was adopted from the city of Helena while my parents were teaching in a small mining town near British Columbia called Libby. I learned that my egg-woman was a nurse in Helena, that she was blonde, blue-eyed, and tall, and that the sperm guy went to seminary for 5 years, and there is no information aside from that about him in my file at Lutheran Social Services. To call the egg-woman and sperm-guy my parents is an insult to the folk who have been with me through every skinned knee and miscarriage and college, not to mention my divorce.

I miss my mother more than I can express. I lost her to lung cancer 3 years ago. There is no replacing her. Nor am I seeking to. I am grateful that I have my Daddy still. He's a rock. And a very devoted grampa to my niece in Atlanta. He and my husband are amazingly good friends -- it's neat to see them together. I deeply appreciate that. More than either of them will ever know.

Hearing that line, "someone Margaret chose to love" was the most healing, nurturing, and wonderful thing I've ever heard on broadcast TV. It truly expressed what my parents and all adoptive parents do: they CHOOSE TO LOVE the children they are given, long before they are ever given that chance. Sleepless, tearful nights are spent in prayer before any hopes are given (and, often, as easily ripped away -- multiple times before a child is ever granted to the couple!) of ever becoming loving parents.

Now change it to "Someone Kenn and Joyce chose to love" and you'll have me. You'll have my brother Matt, too! That's us. We got chosen. We were sent, then we were rejected, then we were embraced by a family that gave us both an amazing upbringing. We really hit the jackpot. Not the financial upbringing, but that's a good thing: the rich-born are rarely the well-born. Witness the Hilton Horribles and countless Kennedys (the ones typically NOT sprung-off from Bobby).

I needed to share it with someone.

I realize I got extra emotive. I just needed to get it out while it was fresh.

:-)

 

The Vultures Have Been Circling...

My husband got in a car accident almost 3 weeks ago. This is not new news on this blog. There are pictures. Scroll down.

He's fine. So's the girl who caused the accident. Our car was almost totaled. The very most important thing, though, is that no one was hurt. We are all super happy, grateful beyond expression, and very relieved about that.

What's hilarious? (Yes, I always manage to find the funny angle.) Starting a week ago Tuesday we've been innundated by phone calls -- they even got my husband's cell phone, the creeps! -- and junk mail. ALL of it to do with the accident.

Chiropracters, lawyers, insurance companies, and doctors' offices from as far away as NEW MEXICO (!!!) (we're in Ohio) have copies of the accident report.

(WE don't even have copies of the accident report. We got paperwork yesterday from our insurance company to the effect that they may not yet, either. Well, they were missing something when they sent the letter; Rick said they were no longer missing whatever it was. I'm not worried.)

When they call, they have two modes of attack: clandestine or sugary sweet. My favorite is 'clandestine', because they think they're such tough nuts to crack. When they're being all cloak and dagger, they try to refuse to speak to me, insisting only to speak to THE VICTIM (insert dramatic orchestral sting) and claiming computer failure when I get too close to the truth. >*snort*< Dorks. The sugary sweet approach involves the pretense of caring, soft tones of voice, even once, "Awww". >*snort*< Posers.

I have nothing against chiropracters, law practices, or the medical industry. It's the sheer volume of calls and mail we are getting, AND the wide scope from which they're coming that's ridiculous (New Mexico?? Honestly!). And the insurance companies: changing horses in mid-stream, much? Sure, that'll happen.

I'm close to changing the phone message to the Spamalot song, "He Is Not Dead Yet".

If they ever come to the door, I'm armed with a bright pink and yellow squirt gun filled with very sugary lemonade, targeted on suede and silk. Bring it!

 

Wordless Wednesday: Beautiful Lady Bert

 

 

 

All 3 Cats

This is something that rarely happens. It's a less than marvelous picture because it's taken with my cell phone. It's also a photo taken waaaay back in the warm summertime, so enjoy it, and think of warm, sunny, 80 degrees Fahrenheit!

 

Oh. My. GOD.

Hey, Busdriver! It thrills me to no end that you are so tremendously and animatedly social with your fares, but WOULD YOU MIND EVER SO MUCH to *STOP* TALKING WITH YOUR HANDS while you're *driving* the bus?!?? Thank you.