Yarnia

Yarnia. What a lovely mythical land. A land where yarn lives in abundance and a place where cats wouldn't dare tread. I dream of this lovely world, especially since I live in a world where cats hunt and destroy errant balls of yarn.

What becomes of the hunted balls? I've just strung them up on the Christmas tree. The two cats sat there underneath the glistening evergreen with eyes large and tails flicking. Watching and waiting will be the new game. Lets hope I win!

Light Saber Symphony

For years my mother has been a part of a local Symphony. Tonight was the first of this season's three performances and I went with my father and a friend to enjoy the music. Because the selection was from favorite movie soundtracks it came as no surprise that Star Wars was included. What was a surprise was the percussion section battling it out with light sabers in the middle of the piece.

After I had managed to suppress my laughter I began trying to regain composure when I loudly snorted. Goodbye dignity. Dad is a bit deaf now so he didn't hear, but my friend quickly inhailed with laughter and started choking horribly. She had been enjoying a life savor so between my tears of embarrassed laughter I was trying to see if her gasping breath was due to the hard candy or saliva in the wind pipe. It was the latter, and thank God because the guy in the seat next to her was about to maul her into a Heimlich.

I'm chalking this one up to a story that will be told again and again. One that will further define my little niche.

Timber!

Tonight I decorated our Christmas tree. Normally it is a very festive affair, but tonight while I was laying under the tree, cutting that one last branch so I could get the tree skirt on, the whole decorated beast came down on me. A rush of colored lights, Grand Fur needles and the glitter of delicate ornaments surrounded my head. Luckily a friend, who just happened to be visiting for the first time in weeks, quickly pulled the tree off of me.

My hands became riddled with pitch after we found ourselves trying to get the tree righted once more. Unfortunately the tree stand, besides being to weak for this evergreen giant, had stripped screws and would not hold the tree. So now the tree is leaning up against a wall in the living room and after the third vicious scrub my hands still smell of forest.

Tomorrow's to do list? Buy a tree stand.

A Little Bloat

In the five years I've been making Thanksgiving dinners this year was a triumph, and that is no joke. The turkey was perfect, the obnoxious relatives left early, and then...Horror of horrors... I walked into the kitchen and found the dishes covered the counter top from one end to the other. Ugh. In my dream world the niche I'd create for myself would be self cleaning.

A Little Family History

This evening my folks and I had pie over at my Grandparent's house. We began to talk about the family habit of chopping off fingers. I knew that Dad and Grandpa had taken bits of the top of theirs, but tonight I learned that a Great Great Uncle lost five fingers over the course of his logging career. Three on one hand two on the other. Although I am a little shocked, I have to admit that it made me feel a little better about chopping the tip of my right finger off a couple of years ago... and then julienne-ing my thumb.

Shaky Ground

This all started with a knock on the door. Since I was expecting my mother I whipped open the door and made an enthusiastic greeting. The rather shocked door-to-door salesman looked a little started but didn't loose a beat as he launched right into his prepared speech which culminated with the question, "Can I clean a carpet in your house for free?" He took my vague hesitation, and mumbled swear word, as a yes and asked which room I'd like cleaned. With masterful skill- and my total lack of backbone- he dug right into my politeness and said he'd go get his tools. My reply, "Four o'clock would be better."

Promptly at four the salesman and associate were back, but I had come down with a fever (the honest truth) and mom, who had stopped to pick up chicken soup making, was happily chopping veggies the kitchen. It took me a good five minutes to get rid of them, but I did. Why do I have such a hard time defining borders, saying no, and why can't I ever muster up something rude when I need to? If it wasn't for fundraising children I'd have a "No Solicitation" sign up so fast. Hear that all you girl scouts?! I put myself on shaky ground for your peanut butter delights and caramel coconut cookies!

Pursuit

Lesson one in having a blog about finding a niche: Have the courage to say something and leave it in print long enough to publish it. Although I've been trying, I can't figure out a way to open this blog in a voice that doesn't make me sound like a pompous fool so I give up on witty openings and the hope of a clever turn of phrase.

By and large I expect this blog will be a record of reactions to my surroundings as I settle into life in Western Washington. As an Army wife I feel this could be a dangerous thing to do, but I'll give it a go since I haven't sent out proper roots since March of 2005. After four years and two more moves I'm sending them out again in pursuit of finding that El Dorado of a niche.