some cheese with your whine?

Jim’s surgery is in 4 days…4 entire days…96 hours give or take…I am so stressed…scared…unhappy…weirdly lonely…terrified…but I don’t get to show it…oh I get to cry in the shower since I’m basically alone…Shamus is usually on the heat vent but he doesn’t tell on me for not being strong…I am a wimp…this whole strength thing is a very weak opaque facade I am an emotional pile of whiny goo…I feel like crying in the car, at work, in the waiting rooms…every where it seems some creepy mean little thought will enter my head all coated in failure and alone forever and the tears will fill my eyes…deep breath…look up…nope those tears are still there threatening to run over and down my cheek for all to see…then the seething anger lumbers in…what, you’re crying? WTF for…stiff upper lip…you’re the woman, you must be strong for all those who depend on you…if you falter in front of them how will they ever cope…if you’re weak it means that you are not going to be there for everyone’s everything…you’re not dependable…you’re not the rock you pretend to be… whiny me whimpers back that I’m tired of being the rock…I want to be a squishy feather pillow and just lay there waiting for someone else to do everything…I want to sit back and watch for a while…the thick of things isn’t nearly as enjoyable as I pretend it is…I want to sleep for days and let someone else do it all, schedule everything, get everywhere in the nick of time, take the notes, remember all the numbers and important names…I want to be a content calm ‘everything-will-be-ok’ lump.  I grow weary of all this adult responsibility crap…I am still terrified…can I still do everything with this idiot grin of bliss on my face? Will I eventually just come out and say my day sucks…I’m sick of this and your banal questions are driving me insane?  Yeah I am working hard and hardly working…what of it? Want a fist in your face? And I’m a pacifist to many people’s guffaw…can I continue this fake happiness?  How comfy is that rubber room and can I bring my sewing machine? I really want to remain strong…be that dependable rock with all the answers and keep that tighter than a gnat’s ass schedule without loosing my whiny wimpy cry baby mind along the way.  UGH…just ugh…

There it’s out there for all to see…and ya know what…I still feel like crying…


Sea Life at Mall of America

Went to Sea life at Mall of America this weekend with Jazmin…

great populations of fabulous aquatic beasties to behold… we went on the behind the scenes tour with a group of well behaved adults and kids…really neat, couldn’t take any photos for security reasons, but we met a HUGE snapping turtle, a slightly damaged sea turtle and got to watch the big saw fish get fed…very informative!

after the calm tour we were blended in with great expanses of pushy mildly aggravating humans and their unruly spawn…sigh…when did it become OK for children to beat on fish tanks and their parents being totally oblivious not to mention totally self absorbed with the tweeting and chatting loudly on cell phones…but I digress…no photos of tiring people…just wicked cool beasties!  November 17th 2012

ugh…enough already

UGH! I am SICK of it! Tired of being the referee, go between, calmer of everyone’s hurt feelings…just STOP IT!!! I get it if you can’t say something nice don’t say anything at all…UGH…no one would ever speak…I’m not asking for flowery happy smoke to be blown up my ass but c’mon…just ONE STINKING DAY WITHOUT ANGST…is that too much to ask?!? ZIP IT…shut it…close it…if you can’t say anything CIVIL…just SHUT UP…SHUT UP…SHUT UP…ugh…there…I don’t feel any better but it’s all out there…ugh..

just a whiny rant

Look close…what do you see…I see blue grey eyes looking back at me…(ugh I rhymed…so didn’t want that) I try not to take in the entire picture so I don’t feel too bad…yup one of those broads who doesn’t like her looks to the point of not looking in the mirror…except to part my hair…sigh…


And what to others see? No idea…afraid to know if ya want the truth…I try hard to see the best in people, trying not to take the book for the cover…but I don’t think others look at me like that…I get the sneaking suspicion they can see straight into my soul and see everything that’s there…the good, the horrid and the oh so ugly…


When I was really little I didn’t see much in the mirror or in others eyes…just me…toe headed…didn’t look like my mom really…didn’t know what my dad looked like so I figured I was the spittin’ image of him…the older I got the more blanks were filled in…dad was a thief…dad was a felon…dad was a cheater…dad was a wife beater…dad was a drug addict…this was my biological dad mind you…the one that donated ½ my genes…and then left me because I had the wrong plumbing…my little juvenile brain tells me this because everyone at least knows what their dad looks like and maybe even sees him occasionally…I’ve never met my dad…he died before I could at least see his face in person…I’ve figured out just about everything now that I’ve grown so I get it…I do look like my dad, a chick version of my dad…I am not my dad…I am not my mom for that matter…I am me…the child of a few divorces, no siblings that are really mine, all halves and steps…too many schools…too many pie in the sky hopes and dreams…really should have been put in my place growing up so I’d have an inkling as to life was really going to turn out to be…


I grew up middle class even before mom met dear old dad…I don’t remember going to garage sales or thrift stores for my clothing…never went to food shelves or subsisted on food stamps…I didn’t know what it was to go to bed hungry or cold…we never had the utilities shut off for non payment…never went without medical care, medications, personal hygiene stuff…perhaps if I had I would be better prepared for adult life…I grew up in an adequately happy family…alright maybe not even adequately…but we put on a good show…Mom was always depressed although she’ll never admit it…dad (now this is step-dad, keep up) liked to drink and get mad…me…I tried my damnedest to just be unnoticed…I wouldn’t tell them if I was sick, injured or anything till it was so bad it couldn’t be ignored…I faked my way through school not knowing half of what was being taught but passing with a fabulous C average…as long as I stayed in school I could continue to live at home…I didn’t want to live on the street not that I had any idea what that would be like…so I just plugged along…wanting to be an artist and get as far away from Minnesota as I could…I couldn’t type very well so I couldn’t grow up to be mom…I was dumber than a box of rocks when it came to math so I couldn’t grow up to be step-dad…so I had no goal…there was no light at the end of the tunnel…my tunnel was bricked over and forgotten…


I married the 1st unsavory character who asked just to get out of the house…major mistake number…oh Maude I’ve lost count…stayed married to him trapped financially for 16 years of extreme hatred…pretty sure I loved him for the 1st year…after that…seething hatred…anger at his cheating…anger at his unfeeling piggishness when death visited us…hatred when I or my children would go without a doctor visit or a needed medication because he was busy supporting a few other families…vehement hatred every time I would have saved up enough money in secret so my girls and I could escape him and he would let the utilities get shut off…let us almost get evicted…get caught driving without insurance…MAUDE how I hated that man even before I knew how he was damaging my daughters who I love more that the world…and surely more than I ever loved him!


What do I see…never ending failure…I believe in Karma…think I did before I knew what it was…I try so hard to be a useful human being…perhaps not putting a MASSIVE mark on society…but I behave…follow the rules…keep most angry thoughts to myself…try not to hurt anyone’s feelings even when mine are usually being dragged behind a car over jagged glass…(imagery…) say thank you no matter what…thanks for giving me more work…thanks for not giving me a chance to succeed…thanks for telling me I do a bang up job at my job BUT…no really thanks…I love thinking for an entire second that I’ll finally get that recognition that everyone craves only to have it yanked, paper cuts and all away like a cruel game of keep away…


Perhaps this is it…my never-ending hatred for that man has put me here…(but I’ve always been in this dark place…even before him) how do I forgive the unforgivable even if it would make my life miraculously better? Guess my black little angry heart is what I see in the mirror…think I’ll quit parting my hair then I can never look in the mirror again…momentary slip in my façade complete…I’ll return you all to your regularly scheduled jovial me in 3….2….1….


Every night…

I lay there…every night…watching the spastic shapes from the glitter night light writhe across the ceiling trying so hard to quickly fall asleep for a few blasted hours or minutes before the alarm goes off.  I’ve a warm dog tummy under my hand, a snoring man next to me…why am I not blissfully asleep? OK…picture a canvas…a nice big blank primed stretched canvas, and that’s it. With a matte black wall behind it, no distractions.  No paints near, no marking accoutrements…just a lovely naked white expanse.  Get rid of all those thoughts cluttering the space…UGH…it’s not working…my canvas all of a sudden has stuff on it…I’ll never sleep…look in the corner…those silly hopes and dreams of childhood…well those are in pencil I can erase them…over there all the crap that tatters all lives: disappointment, betrayal, torture, disapproval, self hatred…erasable ink…some of that can go…OY…now cropping up in quick dry acrylic, black of course: tomorrow’s schedule, work, make money, spend money, nothing to show for money, contemplate what could be, what should be, what never will be…great here come the plashes of Technicolor with textured medium mixed in…accomplishments I want to accomplish tomorrow so I feel whole, they are a blob of no shape so if I don’t accomplish them I won’t feel too bad…right…I feel bad already…things I want to just finish so I can start something new without leaving anything unfinished…that unfortunately has shape as I know what’s there…there it is…looking at me with laser eyes…melting through my skull…’Just finish me…I’m not that difficult’…sigh…still not asleep…my canvas is dripping globs of  my life on the floor…do I sweep it up or just put another canvas there to catch the run off to be contemplated at a later date?  F*ck it…I’ll pick up a hand full of glitter from that damn nightlight and throw a fist full at the wet paint…HA how’s that for tactile giggle ee tude.  Warm dog rolls over seemingly disturbed by the goings on in my head…perhaps I was thinking too loud?!? Shhhh…don’t wake any one up!  Don’t look at the clock…Don’t look at the clock…DON’T LOOK AT THE CLOCK! ………..5:14am…thus the plaintive screaming of the alarm sounds the new day…quick to shut it off…no sense everyone waking up…hmmm…why not? Paste on that smile…time to go again…

been dashing about with my head cut off

I’ve been working on the same block for almost 2 weeks.  Another heart block for my heart quilt.  Usually I could get one block done in a day of hand work interrupted by the regular stuff like wash, the dog, meals…not any more… My oldest daughter got a good job at the same factory I’m the Document Control chick at…good pay (well adequate if you budget) eventual good benefits…she’s working 3rd shift…I’m on 1st…so now my grandson Oliver sleeps at my house Sunday through Thursday…Monday and Tuesday I just take him home with me after picking him up at preschool…Monday both my daughters go to GED classes in Watertown, Tuesday Olie has Speech therapy in Watertown.  Wednesday’s and Thursday’s I take Olie home to his mom till bedtime when I pick him up and take him home with me…thus far it’s working out great…Tab’s working, Olie’s getting to school, I’m working…I think Shamus may even be getting used to the situation…I just haven’t found a way to cram ME into the equation…by the time Oliver’s all snug in his bed I have absolutely NO inclination to sew…I’ll put it on my lap and there it will sit angry and ignored till I finally go to bed. And now I’m just mad at myself…I’ve been leaving everything I love to do undone and

I’ve been letting Olie take his baby (lumpy the TY moose) to school to better cope with the new living situation…he lost Lumpy yesterday…can’t find him anywhere…and of course he is ‘retired’…I found him on Ebay hope to get his replacement QUICK…still pissed at myself! UGH…so now my creative everything is a total mess AND I’m horribly guilty about Lumpy.  Poor Olie.  I know all of this is NO ONE’S fault.  We all just need a little time to get used to everything.  I need to crack the whip on myself to get back to sewing I’m obviously going into withdrawal…and I need to chill on the Lumpy deal…kids loose things even things that mean so much to themselves…sigh… hopefully we can get the replacement Lumpy shipped QUICK so I can quit beating myself up about it…TIE the new one to Oliver so he doesn’t misplace this one…think I’ll even buy an extra one to put away just in case.

Hope to finish mom’s heart this weekend and maybe even start cutting the massive pile of Flannel for baby lovies!
~Yane the silly putty mommy(pulled in 17 directions)
from Olie’s teacher:
Hi Elaine,   I stopped in to TKC this morning and they found the moose!  Oliver was also having a good day and he was earning his buttons on his button board.     Have a nice weekend,   N

quite the flibberdy gibbet

not one to cuss out right here on the web I have quite the WTF moment…I’m making quilts for a friend’s 2 adorable daughter’s and decided to make the quilts personalized for each lil lady by embroidering their names and birthdates on on of the blocks.  I’m using some blocks I received in a fun block swap, bright fabulous colors…I managed to complete both embroideries during 2 long Stephen King movie extravaganzas…massive bummer is I mixed up the birthdays…

UGH! So (sew) this last weekend I paper pieced the girls initials and got the dates correct from mom so the quilts will still be quite lovely but now I have these 2 really beautiful blocks with incorrect embroidery on them… do I throw out the blocks (I think not!) take apart the blocks and replace the unhappy squares?!?  or practice some needle turn applique’ over the embroidery?!? so totally unhappy with myself to have damaged such great blocks like this! OY!

repaired blocks:

heavy sigh!


Very pretty (even I’m impressed) block for a Sarcoma quilt I’m donating to.  Pattern from 300 paper-pieced blocks by Carol Doak.  I’m planning a second block to send to…main color is to be yellow.  Most of the block is hand pieced…love the colors! Block is 12.5 inches square finished June 12th 2010.


Finished 3 wee Yule quilts.  Patterns from the book A Quilter’s Ark by Margaret Rolfe…Kitty for Judi, Emu for Ross, Giraffe for Paul…finished them on June 13th2010.


Shamus…slightly suspicious…doesn’t like it when mom doesn’t feel good. June 13th 2010.

look away if you can’t handle entrails…

k…the colonoscopy went swimmingly…the prep…HORK! the deal itself…thoroughly stoned…I will fer sure be going back to this Dr. if I ever need this done again!  She’s fun…happy…gross job…she even made Jim laugh!  SO…I have diverticulitis…bleck…meaning my innards have lost their elasticity and are unhappy about it…no infection which is nice…pain comes and goes…many biopsies were taken so I need to make an appointment to find out what’s up with those…no big C…whew! on to the yummy photo…ya ready?!?

sexy huh?!? NOT

Wal-Mart Drug Providers:

Dear, Dear managerial staff of the pharmaceutical in-store suppliers… Now 1st off I am all for hiring the special needs, functionally illiterate and crabby assed postmenopausal rags…all for it…keep it up…BUT not for the pharmacy! Bad enough you can’t pronounce my name much less any of the drugs I take…but that 45 minute wait turned into 2 f-ing hours…I can only look at your drastically cheap assed and usually unattractive merchandise so long before I go to the sportsman department…purchase a long rifle and start taking people down! Yeah I have no insurance but you’all should like me! There’s no pesky paper work for you…no middle man…I’m paying 100% of the money owed to you IN CASH!!! You give me the amount…after nearly feinting I fork over the cash…that simple! Check it out…you don’t even need to count (and touch) my pills…take ‘em off the shelf…slap a sticker on it put in the bag and HAND IT TO ME!!! 5 times we stood in that WAY TOO F-ING LONG line with people just as unhappy as me yet more than likely sharing their illness with all of us and were told it’s almost done…were ya’ squeezing every pill out of a newborn babe? Making them out of endanger species flesh?!? NO! You had your obviously challenged woman (I’m guessing she was a she here) struggling with the label machine while your pharmacist I’m guessing there too…chatted it up with the post menopausal hormonally challenged blob of happiness you had running the cash register…Now I’m not prone to being loudly verbal no matter how incredibly pissed I am…but my mutterings were getting louder… Had I an ice-pick handy (I didn’t browse that isle) I would have surely driven it into left eye socket…hammered it home….slide it to the left…slide it to the right…give it a swirl for good measure…surely lobotomizing myself so watching you people working SO INCREDIBLY SLOW wouldn’t bother my so much! Well that being said and the fact that you actually ran out of one of my needed drugs (who knew there were so many epileptics in Buffalo)

I will see you again today…but you will NEVER see my pleasantly plump ass standing in your line to hell ever again! Target Pharmacy…Don’t fail me…for if you do…off to CUB…Walgreen’s…Coburn’s…fill in the blank baby. I may be poor, unhealthy and pasty white…but I don’t take slow motion inept incompetent treated-like-shit well!

Yours with ever lovin’ giggle-ee-tude…