Friday, (30th) I received an email from that jive company I used to work for. Yep. Their biggest client did not renew their contract with them and my services were no longer required. I wasn’t getting all that much work anyway, about $100 a month’s worth, but considering how precarious my current financial situation is, $100 was nothing to sneeze at. (Although I have been sneezing at it, and everything else, lately, and will be until they get the cotton harvest in and ginned.) There just aren’t a whole lot of jobs out there. I do have two “invitations to test,” which, since I have 26 years experience, is a joke, but you have show them you know the secret handshake or they won’t let you in the club. Ah, well, rent and bills are paid for this month, anyway, cat food and groceries are bought, and sufficient unto the day are the Evils thereof, as they say.
Sunday, my BFF and I had a pity party for me being laid off. We ordered in pizza (we polished off a medium sized one between us), and watched the Firefly 10-year reunion and the episode of Castle where there was a murder at a sci-fi convention, and laughed and laughed, and then we watched 4 episodes of Haven, which is one of my favorite TV shows. It was going on 3 a.m. when she left, but we had such a good time.
I’ve got 6 more snowflakes (if 15) still to crochet, but since I’ve also got a brand new bottle of Stiffy and some narrow white satin ribbon, I might do up a batch of snowflakes so I can take pictures of the process and do the promised post. If you can crochet, you can make them. They’re so easy. I’ve got one “extra” snowflake with a mistake in it that I didn’t catch until after I’d finished it off and cut the thread. Michael’s has “glitter dust” and I might get a package of white or opalescent color to dust on after I’ve put on the Stiffy, just to test. I’ve never done them with glitter, so I don’t know if glitter will make them look cheesy or not.
I started reading Ursula LeGuin’s Dispossessed. I can only read her stuff a small chunk at a time — it’s very rich with ideas, and I want time to mull it over and digest it before the next “bite.” LeGuin at the top of her game is like a beautiful old-timey pocket watch. There’s a lot of complex, intricate machinery that goes on under the surface to make that plain, simple clock face “effortlessly” tell the tale.
I’m wearing a short-sleeved T-shirt over a long-sleeved one today, and it’s just enough clothes for the weather. The short T I’m wearing is the one with the Neil Gaiman quote from Coraline — On the front it says, “Cats don’t need names — ” and on the back it says, “–They know who they are. “ and it has what looks like an etching of a cat on top of some books. Coraline is one of those deceptively simple “children’s” books, which are like those puddles that look like they’re only about half an inch deep until you step in it and discover it’s up to your knees.
When I bought groceries, I got some ciabatta rolls. (I can make ciabatta in my bread machine, but it involves a lot of time and extra steps, which is too many hoops to jump through when I can buy it ready made. Making regular bread in the bread machine is one thing, but ciabatta, as much as I love it, is really labor intensive and time consuming.) Today for lunch, I toasted two of the rolls, buttered them and ate them. I also got a bag of Rolos individually wrapped in red, green or gold foil. It’s self-indulgent, not good for me, and I shouldn’t have, but I did it anyway.
There’s that thing where you’ll be talking, and suddenly, for no apparent reason, your train of thought just goes “poof!” and vanishes mysteriously. There’s a name for this phenomenon. Typically, conversations between two people who have known each other a long time are difficult for a stranger to follow due to lack of context. When my BFF and I get together, I often wonder what strangers make of our conversations, which are even more elliptical and disjointed because in addition to the current conversational topic(s), we usually have several conversations which are already in progress from the last time we talked. Inevitably once of us will drop the conversational ball, so to speak. At which point, we signal the fact by saying, “Oh, look! — a squirrel!”, have a laugh, and start off again.
And this, because it’s Cirque, and because it’s just so beautiful:
And this, too, because it’s Cirque, and because it’s just so silly:
(You might want to save it for when you have 45 minutes to watch it . . . )