rachelpink rides the bus

Knitta Please

E. sent me a link to a Bryant Park Project story about extreme knitting.

Oh Yeah

Chuck made this for me. And now it's on my office door. And Chuck's back to blogging--so take a peek over at LIFSOS.   

I'm a Drawing

Lookie here! One of the talented girls in my office did this illustration of me (based on my Glamour pic). She made my shirt green! That's exciting. I think she should be doing freelance illustration work--don't you??

Ira Glass Can Have My Babies

OK, tacky headline, but Ira Glass melts me like a pat of butter on a hot ear of corn.

I just recently started listening to "This American Life." When the work day frustrates or confounds me, I find something just short of solace in the soothing cadence of the producers, the guests, and the music. I love how the stories unravel and spin out and leave me satisfied and smarter.

I grew up in the suburbs of Long Island--we watched Knight Rider and the A-Team, and we didn't tune in to NPR. We laughed at anything with a pledge drive, and in mom's car we listened to Howard Stern or WBLI. So yeah, I'm a little late to the Ira Glass party. But now I'm here, and I'm finding it hard to tear myself away.

Not every day is a "This American Life" day at the office. I can't concentrate if I have lots of calls to make or if it's the kind of day when there's advice to dispense and constant interruption. But some days, some sweet days, are just clerical enough to warrant a radio show.

And while my first impulse at home is to turn on the Law and Order repeats, this weekend I plugged in my headphones and listened to a recent episode, #324: My Brilliant Plan. The first bit, about an angry man pre-ordering his angry tombstone, was sad and funny. The second piece, a long piece, concerned a reporter and his foiled plan to save a few bucks on his housing in Baghdad with dire (and hilarious) consequences. But it was this final story that wrecked me:

Ron Mallett was ten years old when his father died unexpectedly of a heart attack. A year later, after picking up a comic book based on H.G. Wells' book The Time Machine, Ron concocted perhaps the world's most complicated plan to try to see his dad again. A half-century later, Dr. Ronald Mallett wrote a book about his plan, called Time Traveler.

23 minutes of magic. Magic and tragedy and wonder and the deepest kind of sadness. A few times I gasped.  And I cried. And I wanted to give Ron Mallet a hug and tell him that he did everything just right and that he needn't regret a single moment. The story ended and I felt something I hadn't felt in ages. Aspiration. If only I could have a thimble full of Ron Mallet's hoping. If only I could put together a story that gorgeous and moving and personal and relevant. Did I want to be an NPR commentator? Or become a time-travel-studying physicist? Not really. Well, maybe a little of the former. What I really wanted was to do something magical. To do something big. To stop futzing around in the shallow end.

Today's Library Haul

Fetching

Because I can't sit still, I knit.

I finished these mitt-like things tonight. They didn't take much time at all, and they're warm as heck. The pattern is v. smart; I especially like the making of the thumbs.

Now off to bed.

The Sweet Spot

Sundays at 9:50am. That's the pinnacle of my week. I walk into the Animal Shelter, hang up my coat,  and greet the pups and cats.

This week I was going to de-register and skip the shelter. After all, I missed three days of work (a new record I don't wish to repeat), and did little more than sleep, slurp soup, and watch Law and Order. But all the rest and soup got on my nerves. And it seemed like a bad idea to go back to work on Monday "cold turkey." Better to take a practice run at normality and help the kitties.

It did turn out to be a good idea. The work was fast and easy. The other volunteers were super nice and efficient. There weren't many kitties, and we were done with the majority of the work in an hour. As I finished cleaning out Squeaky's cage, a married couple came in. They were in their 60s, and their cat had died the week before, a cat they had owned for over a decade. There are some seriously cool cats in the shelter, but they only wanted a de-clawed cat.

The only de-clawed cat? Tiger. And it just so happened that Tiger had taken a big ol' nip at my hand that morning. A bloody nip that required a band-aid. Tiger makes up for his lack of claws with his mouth full of sharp teeth.

The husband got up on a step-stool and quietly approached the cat. While he played the part of the cat whisperer, a group of us from the shelter talked about how cool the cat was, and how he's probably just really spooked by the dogs and the cage. This I do believe to be true. But it's also true that Tiger has a mean bite, and the husband was worried.

I started coughing again and decided to leave. I hope that Tiger is spending the night in a warm house, and that he's giving his teeth a rest.

Can't Can't Sleep

See this still from The Blair Witch Project? That's what it feels like inside my head. Gross and scary and lit only by a flashlight.

It's 2am and I just can't sleep. I've tried for hours. It's not working. I went from no sinus trouble to major sinus trouble in one day. I feel nutsy and wide awake and exhausted. I went out to the couch, annoyed Chuck, and disrupted the cat. I dozed off for a few minutes and then, WHAM, kitty decides it's a fine time to play with her rattle mouse. My nose clears up, and then I cough. The cat sits on my feet, and I have to switch positions. I got up and found some old Nyquil tabs in my travel bag and I took them even though it's much too late for Nyquil. Simone and Lisa's doctors gave them cough medicine with codeine. Why do I always have doctors who are stingy with things like codeine?

Holy crapsicles, I really thought that I would be fading from the Nyquil by now and I'm not. Blogging can make me sleepy sometimes, but not tonight. No, I could go on, with my nose uncomfortably weird and my cough coughing, for hours and hours.  Why sleep when I can write about not sleeping?  Silly silly me.

Bronchitis

Yesterday I went to work, and it was a mistake. Halfway there I knew I should have stayed home. But it was too late, and I stayed until 4. I booked a doctor's appointment for this morning because I knew something wasn't right with my lungs.

The doctor diagnosed me with bronchitis--that's a lot better than TB or the plague, so I'm relieved.

Since I haven't had bronchitis since I was a wee one, I googled it up and found a list of symptoms:

Soreness and a feeling of constriction or burning in your chest
Sore throat
Chest congestion
Sinus fullness
Breathlessness
Wheezing
Slight fever and chills
Overall malaise

I've had all of these--and I'm glad to find out that it's only bronchitis and I'm not dying. For a few minutes after a coughing fit yesterday, I was certain I was having a heart attack. Nope. I'm alive! I'm alive! But I'm tired. I slept 6 hours today and I'm still feeling "overall malaise."

Doctor tells me this isn't contagious, and that's delightful. BUT, how did I get it? I just want to be well.

While watching the Biggest Loser last night (more on that later), a cereal commercial made me cry. It was all about eating cereal and being a stronger woman. I would like to be strong and not get sick so much. I guess I need to start eating more cereal? Honey Smacks should do the trick :)

A Finished Hat

My lungs hurt and I feel like I've been swimming all day. Looks like a trip to the doctor is in my future.

Since I wasn't feeling so hot, I sat on the couch and finished this completely kick-ass hat for a little Canadian baby. The pom-pom was my special touch. The pattern is called "Toasty Topper" and it's supposed to be a hat with an attached scarf, but it's a little short. Over time the wool with stretch and it will work as such. In the meantime, it's still going to be cute as hell.

I Went Out At Night

Meg had an un-birthday celebration on Saturday at Magician and I had lots of cranberry juice--oh, with vodka. Meg gave everyone thoughtful pretty packages with un-birthday presents and there were homemade strawberry cupcakes with white icing. Lance and Anna discovered that they spent several years living close together in Oregon. I discovered that Anna once worked at Dairy Queen even though she hates bananas.

Like a salmon swimming upstream I flopped out of the bar and onto Rivington Street. The young drunk ones in metallic pumps and skinny jeans were passing by me in a great wave. I felt big and old but happy still because I was so pleasantly drunk. And I was hungry too, so I stumbled into a shawarma place decorated with monkeys and ordered a chicken shawarma sandwich. As I stepped out of the shawarma door a cab stopped and I got in. Twenty minutes later it was 1am and I sat in the dark and ate that sandwich with relish, stopping only to throw a piece of errant chicken in the direction of the cat.

I went to bed full and happy and dizzy. The cat crawled up onto my back and we both fell asleep fast. Such a nice quiet end to a fun and bustling night.

This morning I had to get up at 8 and head out to the shelter. Oooh it was hard to get up but the cold snapped me awake. There were a few more cats than last week and a few of the dogs were off in the ASPCA van parked outside. The cats didn't care that I was hungover. I like cats.

Happy Birthday, Dad

Have a good day--and I hope you like the present! I love fostering compulsions.

Happy Birthday, Meg!!

Meg is all kinds of excellent. I remember the first day she arrived at Chamberland and she wore a necklace that was a piece of a ruler (I think) and I suspected she would be my kind of people. Meg wears the sassiest clothes of anyone I know, taught me how to sew sock monkeys, and makes enviably cool and special books. When Meg and Anna and I go to lunch it's always fun, even when one of is v. cranky. Meg has red boots that make her look like a superhero. Meg loves her niece and nephew the way I love mine and she has the most excellent friends--and I love that I'm one of them.

So happy happy happy birthday, Meg! 

Funk

I'm in one. Seriously. I would dearly love to punch someone, anyone for no reason at all.

Ouch. There's nothing really sparking this--nothing but lady chemistry. F that. I don't want to be the weaker sex, but this PMSing makes me feel weak and lame and cranky and sad and angry.

I had to go to the dentist (the specialist) this morning for a quick check-up. It took 5 minutes or so, but it was a long 5 minutes. I gagged on the x-ray bite-wing thing. Repeatedly. I had to rip it out of my mouth
twice so I didn't throw up. And then I started laughing really hard which made me cry and then choke. It finally worked and then the dentist came in and told me about my upcoming procedure. It sounds awesome--they will cut the skin over my tooth-hole (from the extraction) and then drill into my mouth-bone. Then they sew me up and I suffer and the dentist tells me to take two Aleve and gargle. I can't wait until February 8th! What a fun and special day.

Hear that? It's me being snarky and sarcastic.

That said, I did laugh really hard today. Delaney told me a seriously screwed up story about a girl named Teetee and her father, Rogogo. Teetee died, she said. Hit her head and died. Did I hear about it?  Or maybe she didn't. Wait, no it was Rogogo. He died in New York. No, he's in the hospital in New York. Teetee is fine and she's in Florida.

Delaney makes up awesome stories and she gives her characters awesome names just like Donovan did. He had an imaginary girlfriend for awhile named Mahsta Moomahsta who died in a shark attack. Donovan and Delaney stories just might be funk-busters.

The Before

At long last I'm getting my t-shirt quilt! Today I got the kit in the mail, and tonight I laid out the design. The cat seemed to approve. My birthday money is going to a great cause. I'm getting it quilted onto a black cotton backing, and the squares will all have a black border. When the finished quilt comes, I think I might die. It's going to rock that much.

My Friends are Better Than Sausage

Thanks so so much to everyone who came out today. I am a lucky lucky girl to know you all :)  And note to self--drinking raspberry beer through a straw leads to nothing but trouble.

Book Check

I just finished my 4th book of the year, The Burn Journals by Brent Runyon. It's a YA book, a true story about a 14-yr. old boy who attempted suicide by setting himself on fire. I hadn't heard anything about it until Heidi Kenney (one of my favorite crafters of all time) mentioned it in passing on her blog.

It's such a hard book to handle because Brent's sadness seems like typical teenage angst. It's a reminder of the terrible way our brains and hearts and bodies fucked with us when we were young. You look at Brent's anxiety and the causes seem so minor--and then it hits you. That minor stuff, the petty concerns, the fears, the fights--it doesn't feel minor at the time. It's not minor. The world is so small that the small stuff is huge and it hurts and there's no end in sight.

Becoming an adult is the best thing that ever happened to me.

Yesterday Was a Really Good Day

I went to sleep so content last night that I didn't hear my alarm this morning. Ooops.

January 9th, 2008 was a great day.

Chuck sent me flowers that are red and purple and they came right in the middle of the birthday-cupcake party we had at the end of the day. We headed off to dinner, and then I decided to head home and relax in my pjs.

33 is starting off in a pretty snappy way.

Happy Happy Day

It's my birthday.

I got a promotion (I'm an Associate Director of Publicity!).

My department tripped out my office with amazing sparkly birthday garland, lights, ballons, and signs as you can see in this v. blurry cameraphone picture.

This is such a good day already, and it's not even halfway done.

Birthday Monkey Redux

After an hour of fiddling, I'm a lot happier with the monkey's face. I added nostrils, a line on the mouth, and I changed the eyes---again. This time I embroidered them in brown thread and outlined them in white.
Now he's all ready to get boxed up and sent off the the birthday boy!

A Squeaky on my Shoulder

There are some pictures on PetFinder of a little kitty named Squeaky. She's on my shoulder, and you can't really see me.

In other shelter news, it looks like a team leader position might be opening up soon--and I've been invited to apply! I'm so psyched. I'll have to go in for an interview, and take a training class. Anything for the kitties.

Cornucopia

There was so much to do this weekend. I got a big chunk of my to-do list finished, but there are still lots and lots of loose ends wiggling about. I need another day. . .

DID
Finished The Amber Spyglass (that's book #2 of 2008).
Made a sock monkey for Matthew.
Started back at the gym.
Saw Walk Hard (laughed a lot).
Brunched at Valverde.
Cleaned kitty cages at the shelter.
Ran to Target for misc. supplies.
Met Mr. and Mrs. Munchak for dinner at Hagi.
Went to a party.
Napped.

DIDN'T
Organize my closet. It's a tragedy.
Clean out my desk.
Fix my bookmarks on del.icio.us.
See Juno and Sweeney Todd and There Will Be Blood.
Return wonky sweater that's unraveling after one wearing.

@ Lori's 30th Birthday

Birthday Monkey

Baby Matthew has a birthday coming up, so I spent a few hours whipping him up a monkey.

Please note that it's NOT anatomically correct--that's just a tail sticking out :)

Kids with Rocks and Hammers

I came up with this idea. Nothing like giving rocks and hammers to the kids.

Live from the Tampa Airport

Howdy. I'm sitting around at the airport waiting to fly back home. The v. cool Jet Blue employee who checked me in managed to get me a seat on an earlier flight--I only had to pay 10 cents to change it. Jet Blue. Good people.

All the other flights into JFK and Newark are running late because of wind. I'm going to cross my fingers and hope for the best. It would be kind of awesome and golden to be on the one flight that makes it out on time.

Donovan and Delaney gave me the best goodbye hugs. There is so much love coming off those kids. Delaney wrapped her small hands around my neck and gave me tons of kisses. Donovan tried jumping into my arms, but he's too big for that now. Next time I see him, I expect we'll be the same height.

It's been such an unusual vacation. To be removed from work and home and friends and NYC all at once for 12 days has been a strange experience. I feel a little less me today that I did on December 20th. But on the 20th I didn't know that Delaney sings a lot and likes to play on Nick Jr. all the time. And that Donovan has become an excellent artist and an athlete in the making. On the 20th, I didn't realize that I would soon build and then destroy a gingerbread house with the kids. Or that I'd be registering my new stuffed pug on the Webkinz site so I could play checkers with Donovan.

The kids are cooler and smarter and sassier and funnier than I imagined they would be. And I'm going to miss all that good positive happy sweet energy.

Happy Birthday, Meat Munchak

2008

It's here. Cool. I prefer even numbers.