"oh cruel fate, why do you mock me?"

I watched adult swim last night. I'm not going to lie I really do find Robot Chicken fairly funny. Though I was operating with a campari and soda (with orange? delicious!) and some Jinx. And Metalocalypse? Bizarre. In fact the shows just kept getting more and more bizarre as the evening went on.


I started weeding the fiction collection again. Normally I have no problem weeding and find it a fairly satisfying job (aside from the whole not being a librarian nor being paid librarian wages to do the job of a librarian thing), but I started with the short stories and thought I was going to have a nervous breakdown over the whole thing. Weed a collection of short stories edited by Raymond Carver? What are you, CRAZY?! I am nothing if not a professional, however, and managed to do the dirty deed only to find out from my superfantastical supervisor that these books were all getting "recycled" (read: thrown out) and I could take whatever I wanted.


I'm going home with about 15 books.


And this superfantastical supervisor is also responsible for me getting tomorrow off on very short notice. Woot! Woot! This does not mean I get to screw around tonight as I have some, umm, heavy things to move so tonight after supper at Baja Grill I have enlisted the help of my compandre. But tomorrow I should have plenty of time to clean that downstairs leaving me with the first free weekend in a very long time.

And that is a very good thing.

nothing says crazy like relating to a serial killer

Bought a rug. Thought it'd go downstairs. Got it home. Peter said "Let's put it at the top of the stairs." We did. Looks perfect. Thanks Mom and Dad!

Dexter is kind of blowing my mind. He acts just like everyone else acts only he thinks too hard about it. We're all faking it--pretending to enjoy various social interactions, socializing at work not because it's enjoyable but because it's expected, not acknowledging how alone we all feel--but Dexter thinks about his emptiness and separateness and there's something about that I like. Not to sound like a complete sociopath, but I can relate to him on some level. I'm an overthinker, overanalyzer, and all around introvert in an extrovert's clothing. I do like people and have some bizarre ability to attract people. Christina used to call it something...I chalk it up to being a good listener and decent conversationalist. I can quickly find myself in the middle of a conversation with someone I don't really know that well and they're unburdening themselves to me. I also have the added bonus of working a customer service job that requires I make conversation and smile a lot without really having to mean it. I'm faking it. All of this-the strangers telling me their life stories, the patrons I have to be nice to because I'm paid to do so--makes me feel Dexteresque.

Tonight I'm at work. Tomorrow I'm at work. Friday I'm at work though I'm contemplating asking for the day off as I have an awful lot to do downstairs before I'm technically supposed to be out of there and I could in theory complete all tasks if I don't sleep much and skip a dinner party Friday night which I don't really feel like going to anyway, but feel obligated to do so. Plus I still need to recaulk that teeny tiny hole that appeared in the tub, scrub that entire room down, buy a new shower curtain and rings and somehow come up with a brilliant solution to the obvious lack of bathroom storage space problem. And the downstairs room needs to be vacuumed and swept and mopped and an airconditioner needs to find a new home and some holes need to be dealt with and I'm still in need of a rug for that room and the desk needs to be moved. And then my old apartment needs to be completely cleaned.

Yeah I'm going to go see about that Friday off thing right now.

call it friend-o

Check out our branch. It fell from a dead tree and landed smack in the middle of our parking area this morning at around 9:30am. Thankfully the Honda, tucked safely in the bottom right corner, was unharmed. We are under a wind advisory here in Western Michigan all day and when you're fortunate enough to live in what is essentially a treehouse you deal with things like 15 foot branches falling down.


Enough about the branch! Onto more important things like how amazingly good "No Country For Old Men" was.

The Coen brothers done growned up. I had fairly high expectations and though they weren't exceeded they were most definitely met. Watching this movie was like looking at music. The pacing was perfect. You could almost hear the metronome measuring out each shot, each frame, each beat. And yet there was no music. No background music. No hip soundtrack. Nothing. It was deliberate and perfect and I can't imagine the film any other way. It did lack tension for me but that was my own fault as I read the book first and therefore knew who was going to die and when. There was one scene I found unnecessary and one actress I thought they Coen brothered up, but other than that I got no complaints. It was way less violent than I expected given how terrified I was reading it and knowing just how well those boys do up the violence. It was still bloody just not gratuitous. The world was a character in and of itself--scrubby desert-y West Texas with old motels and hotels and trailer parks and cars from the 70s and western shirts and cowboy hats and boots and shell casings and guns and scary dogs and dust and and drugs and outlaw cats. Tommy Lee Jones deserves an Oscar nod for this as do the brothers. Cormac McCarthy wrote an excellent novel about a changing world, a man who makes a mistake, a psychopath on a rampage, and a sheriff who is just trying to decipher it all. And these boys were the only ones I could imagine bringing it to the big screen.

Tonight I'm off in search of a rug for the downstairs as tomorrow, weather permitting, I'd like to get that desk in. I'd also like to get every other little thing I've been putting off--the typewriter, the sewing machine, the fabric, the boxes of kitchen stuff I only use once a year when I actually make homemade pasta but refuse to give away--up the stairs. Enough is enough of this split living. I'm ready to nest.

ooooh! and a picture of the romanesco broccoli...or italian cauliflower...or whatever you wanna call it!

wanted: the new bonnie "prince" billy mini lp on vinyl

Sunday mornings are generally my most favorite time of the week. I prep the coffee, head to Readers World for a Times and a Press, come home, make something really yummy, and spend the morning working my way through both papers while listening to NPR.

Yesterday I prepped the coffee, got the Times and the Press, ate something fast and underwhelming, and started painting.

Painting a ceiling? Not fun.

I did have help with the rest of the room which was nice. And it really was worth the trouble as the room is now significantly brighter and at least looks cleaner. All that's left is finding a rug and moving the desk and then it is finished. The nice thing about having a month to move is that you get a month to move. The horrible thing about having a month to move is that you get a month to move. I'm ready for this to be over.

I rewarded myself last night by making homemade potato leek soup and going to Saugatuck where we ran into Erik which is always fun. AND Pete was nice enough to put The Family Guy on one tv and the Patriots game on the other. AND Peter most likely met the woman of dreams thanks to me wanting to buy her a drink for playing My Morning Jacket and Dylan on the jukebox. They talked Animal Collective.

I hate Animal Collective. They remind me of Sufjan only way more obtrusive and irritating and their lyrics are worse. I guess the one nice thing I can say about them is that they occasionally have some really nice musical moments but they interrupt it with wailing or screeching or repetitive nonsensical loudness. I'm really excited because Peter is thiiiiis close to getting their new cd in at the library which means I'm definitely gonna get to hear it. Plus the new Panda Bear cd is coming in which for all of you lucky enough not to have heard of him is a member of Animal Collective.

Anti-hipster music rant over.

As usual we stayed longer than we wanted, but met some cool people (Animal Collective girl included) and I managed to drag my sorry ass to work on time this morning armed with tea and a peanut butter and jelly sammidge for breakfast.

We have a huuuuge decision to make this afternoon: Do we go to the 4:10 or the 7:15 showing of "No Country For Old Men." Because we're going. Today. Let moving my clothes up wait one more day. For some reason this movie is only playing at one theater in GR which means if we're gonna be up there anyway we should probably just go to The Pita House for supper. And if we go to the one in Easttown we should probably stop in at Mulligans.

It would be rude not to.

am i really not being that clear or am i just attracting people who are mentally deficient?

What an unexpectedly wonderful few days! Wednesday night did turn out to be martini time and I was happily joined by 2 boys who were all gung-ho about heading south to the bar only to be talked out of it by little old beguiling me. The kept me company as I chopped some veggies (though I didn't have to do it all as Peter not only cut the brussels sprouts off the stalk for me, but also roasted the beets all by himself!). The romanesco broccoli? Heavenly. Sweet and delicious. It was even good raw.

Thanksgiving day was lovely. We were in a beautiful new house surrounded by family. My roasted vegetable dish was a big hit thanks to it's gorgeous color and unusual vegetable. We got home a little later than I expected leaving me no choice but to once again ignore painting the downstairs. I wish a little elf would come over and just paint it for me. I know it's not that big of a deal I just don't want to do it.

So there.

Yesterday? Superfun. A friend of mine I hadn't seen in at least 10 years was in town for the holiday and took me out for lunch which of course turned into drinks. I got to pick the place so Journeyman it was: a trio of cheeses--there was this triple cream paired with honey that was to die for, squash soup with fennel pollen (and I'm sorry, I could not taste the fennel pollen which just confirmed why I don't ever buy the stuff) and a beet salad with truffle oil which I could indeed taste and should purchase. We finished with 2 truffles: lavender and Earl Grey. He then suggested we hit up the Sandbar where we sat for a long time. It's so strange having had no contact for so long only to discover that though we had changed, who we were really hadn't at all. I'm optimistic we'll be staying in contact as I hoodwinked him into being my penpal.

And he let me play with his iphone.

Which was pretty sweet.

I hate making declarations on this blog because then I'm inevitably doomed to fail, but tomorrow? Painting. December 1st is one week from today and I want to be completely out of the downstairs. Being out of the downstairs means getting the desk out. And getting the desk out means painting the entryway.

Please little elves come and paint that room for me?

i am thankful i am out of here in less than an hour

Slllllloooooooowwwww night here. Deathly slow.


I'm obsessively and unnecessarily refreshing my gmail. I've been checking MySpace every 10 minutes. Thankfully there's someone else on Facebook which is breaking up the evening nicely, but he's making me terribly thirsty for a Grey Goose martini with gorgonzola stuffed olives and I have sworn off the bars tonight given it is the most popular bar night of the year and we're supposed to get some snow. That'd be some snow that's gonna stick, people. So when I'm finally released from my desk I will be going home to Stoli and supermarket olives. Sigh.


Today has been a most excellent day. It started bright and early with a trip to the market: butternut and delicata squash, romanesco broccoli, 2 leeks, a ton o'beets, brussels sprouts, and german butterball potatoes. It was a small but enthusiastic bunch of farmers who were helpful as usual. I then hit up my Nature's Market for the rest of my groceries and one last stop at the supermarket where I only had to buy frozen blueberries, spinach, and bread. Take that supermarket!


Though slow and boring, work has really not been so bad. I've only been blessed twice--during the holidays it tends to happen more--and I finally got the Go-Go's "Vacation" outta my head. I had my evaluation today was pleasantly surprised to hear my supervisor thinks I'm doing a swell job. I went to the Curraugh for supper where there was some sort of unusual melding of worlds--sitting at an "Irish" pub with a bunch of people from Holland who were all enthusiastically watching England and Croatia play soccer. Yeah. Weird. And since then I've been trolling the internets for entertainments.


I also just found out despite the enormous amounts of time I spend reading, I am woefully ignorant of most of this list.


Slooooooowwwww.

Tonight I drink a martini and roast a bunch of vegetables for the Thanksgiving feast tomorrow. Originally I was going to go all old school and make Green Bean Casserole, but when I saw the haul I had from the market I changed my mind. What better way to celebrate Thanksgiving than preparing a dish that was grown within 20 miles of your home?

i reached for the first one and there were 2 missing and then i don't remember the next 2 but i definitely remember taking the last one

I slept like a rock. Like a rock in a bed.

There was some unnecessary freaking out over things we didn't need to freak out over, but you'll have that when you're 2 relatively intelligent people who can spend hours discussing the fall of the American empire and yet are actually frightened of caulk.

Yeah, that's not done yet.

Anyway, I was bitchy and it was raining/sleeting, but we wrapped up the box spring like a Christmas present, very slowly drove it to Zeeland, made the switch, went home, made the bed, laid down happily upon the bed, ate some supper and then went back to Zeeland to party down with Ericka and Shadetree.

I listened to Muse. I talked to Shadetree about cooking and food. And caulk. I talked to Ericka about people who seem to feel as if my choices are somehow judgements on their choices when it actually feels as though I'm being judged. And somewhere in there I managed to consume 4 Dirty Bastards.

Ouch.

When I get home from work tonight I have the NYT waiting for me. And maybe we'll go crazy and get Chinese food. And I finished The Subtle Knife and have moved on to The Amber Spyglass so I may skip the Simpsons and the Family Guy (horror of horrors!) and read instead.

In my bed. In my new apartment.

I am happy and content.

i might become a meat-eater

I thought I'd be fine. I thought I could just go back to the supermarket and go shopping. I even made a list the way I used to--in geographical order from the back to the front. My list was heavy on the produce but I figured what the hell! It's Meijer! They've always had the best produce!

It was horrible. Awful. Pathetic.

Green beans were on sale. Now, I should know better. I know green beans are not in season--at least not anywhere around here. So why did I even bother sticking my hand into that bin filled with wrinkle-y, smushy, old green beans? The eggplant wasn't any better. The only carrots I could find came in a bag--not baby carrots, mind you, but still no tops. There were no brussel sprouts (in season!), no kale (in season!), and no beets (in season!).

This sucks.

I have no one to blame but myself for not setting up produce this year. I'm considering going back to eating meat actually as I can get locally raised and processed meats. Tomorrow morning you can bet your sweet ass I'll be heading to the market. I haven't been going mostly because I haven't really been cooking much with the move and all. But tomorrow I'm loading up. Potatoes and beets and kale and cauliflower should all still be there. I really was quite visibly upset after the whole experience and though I am prone to being a bit dramatic even I was surprised at my reaction. When Peter asked what I had done last winter with the whole produce thing I just said, "Well, I never thought about it last year." What a drag. Being someone who thinks about things.

I'm reading the His Dark Materials series. I finished The Golden Compass in just over 24 hours. It's really fun. Dark and scary and really fun. It's also fun to search around on the internets for controversy surrounding the upcoming film. I'm sure I'll end up being disappointed in the movie, but the first book really was something. I've heard people say they couldn't get through it and that it was slow, but I thought it was really amazingly well-written. There are all of these cool elements: every human has a daemon which is essential a physical representation of one's soul. Childrens daemons can change up until puberty and then as an adult they are fixed. There are witches that are hundreds of years old, armored polar bears, a cowboy from the country of Texas with a hot air balloon, and an evil woman from the Magisterium with a scary golden monkey daemon, and the mysterious Dust The Church believes to be original sin. There's some crazy stuff in there, my friends. Science fiction/fantasy kinda stuff that I normally wouldn't get into and yet I can't get enough. I started The Subtle Knife yesterday and haven't gotten very far, but I'd like to wrap this whole series up by Sunday night.

So it's about to be the weekend. Tomorrow I'm hoping there will be some boxspring swapping. Maybe the bathroom upstairs will finally get finished. Maybe we'll finally move the rest of the bookcases up too. Maybe my clothes will make the trip. Maybe I'll say forget it to everything and just try and find a place to watch the Michigan/Ohio game at noon. Tonight I hope we get to see the man who was going to help rip out my stairs who hopefully won't have to any longer. And I might have to go down to the LRS and rough up a man who told me a WEEK AGO my NEEDLE WOULD BE READY and that HE'D CALL ME BACK in 24 HOURS. Plus where's my new Devendra Banhart on vinyl I ordered months ago, boys?!? HUH????

Maybe I'll see if the scary stairs man will come with me and crack some skulls.

well this just doesn't bode well for america

Remember when I used to use this blog as a place to rant and rave about the state of the world?

I wonder what happened...

Oh wait, I remember.

I got really excited when the Democrats took back the House and Senate only to watch them continue to trot out different versions of the same legislation that keeps getting vetoed. The dollar is slipping, oil prices are up, the housing market is in a downward spiral, health care costs continue to skyrocket, and they won't let Iraq go. Let it go. We're not going to pull out. Maybe we should, but I can pretty much guarantee until Bush is out nothing is going to change so just stop and start trying to fix some shit at home.

And speaking of Bush being out, how is it possible that primary season hasn't even started and I've already got extreme candidate fatigue?!?! Me! The biggest political junkie I know and I am sick to death of hearing about Clinton and Edwards, and Guiliani and Thompson. I haven't watched one single debate, people. Not one!

Plus I'm also living in a state that, right or wrong, is challenging tradition when it comes to primaries which means none of the candidates are even campaigning here. The RNC is threatening to strip MI of half its delegates while the DNC won't seat any of MI delegates.

Disenfranchised much?

You win, George. You win. You've beaten even me into submission. Unfortunately because this country is still standing after every thing you've done to it, I honestly don't care about the elections. Hell, I don't really much care about the democratic process. Vote, don't vote, don't matter much. When your choices are between a carpetbagger and a man whose political experience amounts to being class president of a really big high school how could anyone truly believe their vote counts for anything?

tomorrow i should spend the last of my pennies at the farmers market because it would be nice to say goodbye

This day has been a blur.

So this post will be blurry to match.


I vaguely remember wanting eggs for breakfast but not having any and making some sort of tempeh/potato concoction.

I joined facebook and it's all Patty's fault.

Tonight we had 129 people show up to see Shrek 3 which was just not a very good movie.

But I get to go home early which makes me happy.

Saturday a big man with a crowbar is hopefully gonna come over and rip out my stairs.

I promised him supper.

See?

Blurry post.

strange days indeed

First off, the apartment we stayed at in Chicago? More than I ever imagined: Three bedrooms, 3 1/2 baths, 2 blocks from Michigan Ave, 2 balconies, floor to ceiling windows with views of the Hancock building, the lake, and the Sears tower. And it was on the 40th floor. Decadent doesn't begin to describe it.

Saturday morning we got up with a vague plan of heading south, finding a cheap diner to eat breakfast and then snagging a cab to the museum. That went really well. We found a perfect little place to eat and got a cab outside a hotel on Michigan. I even nailed the price: $15-$20 for the 4 of us. We got to the museum before noon and wandered around. It was really cool though a wee more kid friendly than I expected. At some point I managed to put my ticket to the Star Wars exhibit down (there were these terminals all over the museum where you could send emails to people and I did just about everywhere!) and I think that's where it happened. Why oh why did I not just put the ticket in my pocket or purse I'll never now. There was about 30 minutes of retracing steps, some lump-in-the-throat "No, seriously, you guys should just GO" moments as I was convinced I was out of luck, but low and behold thanks to Melissa having brought the receipt and some extremely nice ticket people I got in. We got a sweet picture of the 4 of taken right when we walked in. The exhibit was really cool. Lots of props and costumes and models and stuff. Unfortunately it wasn't made clear that the sit-in-the-Millennium Falcon thing was completely separate, but Reuben got some sweeeeet pictures of the model they used in A New Hope. Insanely detailed. We were there for about an hour or so, breezed through the gift shop and decided to head back and catch a beer at the Billy Goat.

First impressions of the Billy Goat weren't great, but the experience got increasingly better. Especially after Melissa and I had Horny Goats to drink (Traci, you would LOVE it: Bacardi Limon, 7UP, and a splash of cranberry juice!) and we found out State had won that day and Notre Dame lost. We watched some of the Illinois game and though we didn't get to see it live were happy to hear they beat Ohio. We then headed back up to the apartment after stopping at Trader Joes for some nosh (man, I love that place), watched YouTube videos, and had way too much fun with the very expensive very high powered telescope. Around 8:30 we decided we should head out on the town for a little bit. I was under the mistaken impression we were east of Rush. After walking 4 blocks west we discovered our error and after stopping at a little pub for a pint headed back. Rush Street was something else. The Bentley dealership on Rush Street was something else. We rubbed elbows with the rich and gazed into shop windows and just had a good time. We stopped into one more place for another pint, Peter bought me a birthday shot of Jameson and the evening took a turn.

I'm not going into details, but the evening got ugly. Really ugly. Tears were shed and people got shoved around and the night dissolved into a Jerry Springer-like atmosphere. It was really unfortunate as we'd had such a great time up until that point for the most part. Needless to say the majority of Sunday was strained though Peter very wisely chose to sleep for most of it including the drive back. I'm sad to say it probably goes down as the worst birthday in recent history though the first birthday we were together I got to see Jeff Tweedy, and the second birthday I got to see OCMS both of which are hard to top. The majority of the weekend really was fun. But I'm pretty sure there's a new "normal" in town and things are not ever going to be the same.

The bed? Can't be cut. The stairs have got to come out. I need to set something up with my front neighbor soon as we're going to need her help on this and we're both already sick of not having an actual living room. It's like we're still downstairs as one room is completely unusable.

I'm off this afternoon and am hoping to get the rest of my kitchen up along with the bookcases and little end tables and whatnot. Maybe tonight is a good night to scrape together some pennies and head back to our favorite waterhole. I think we both need it.

must.have.needle.for.record.player.soon.

Best laid plans.

Anybody know how to get a queen size boxspring up some stairs with a low overhang and a support post blocking the way?

Anyone?

After about 2 1/2 hours, much swearing, non-support posts being ripped out and one stair removed we gave up. That would be the very first thing we attempted to move. We then ended up having to disassemble the futon, move it up, and put it back together again. There was foul language, but that bitch went back together and we're currently sleeping on it. AND almost everything else big is up there. Except the record cabinet. And the big bookcases. And the table formerly known as the liquor table. And, of course, my desk. It's almost like we live there. Last night we sat in the reading nook surrounded by our books: the Han Solo trilogy (not mine) nestled next to The Bhagavad Gita (also not mine), up against the Norton Anthology (I wish that were mine) on shelves next to The Poetry of Donald Rumsfeld (oh so mine), 2 copies of Ulysses (staring at me until my 40th birthday), and so many books I haven't read but have always meant to.

Grace has moved gracefully. Though if she doesn't either knock over wine glasses from the upper shelves or manage to fall about 15 feet onto the stairs below it'll be a miracle. She zips up the stairs and very cautiously creeps down. She keeps looking at Peter and I wondering if and when we're going to yell at her for being in a wrong place. If the indent is any indication it appears as if she spent her first day sleeping on Peter's pillow. And she spent last night sleeping on him. Which is typical Grace behavior.

This morning I scrubbed the watercloset. I've taken to calling the room-with-the-toilet the watercloset for obvious romantic reasons. And now my hands are aching from the vigorous scrubbing I gave the floor. And because that wasn't enough I scrubbed the kitchen sink too. The caulking may happen tomorrow night depending upon my ability to scrub out the tub which will depend on the state of my arthritic feeling fingers after checking people out all day. It will also depend on the state I'm in after coming back from picking up a reimbursement check from the alcoholic caretaker. If I get out there without having scotch with her it will be a miracle.

A brief recap of yesterday: Acres of Thrift, moved some stuff, went to Black River and talked to a roomful of highschool students about editing poetry with Peter who talked about writing poetry and remembered just how happy I am that I'm not in highschool but still had a splendid time, voted, ate a very quick supper, felt pretty calm about the inevitable DVD Release Party chaos until the DVD player wouldn't play the brand new Ratatouille DVD we had just bought and then wouldn't play a second brand new copy we managed to get ahold of in about 5 minutes meanwhile 140 people are crammed up against the doors anxiously awaiting said movie and we somehow managed to get to the movie through the chapters instead of the play movie option only to have it freeze and skip about half way through forcing us to jump a chapter to get past it.

And then I went home and drank a coupla beers to recover.

I was faced with the task this afternoon of trying to discover whether it was a player or a DVD problem. First DVD I tried (another brand new one I might add) and the DVD went into the player and never came out.

We're getting a new DVD player next Tuesday.

It's a little soon to get excited about the weekend as I still have 2 very long days of work without my compandre, but I can't help it.

I'm gonna sit in a replica of the Millennium Falcon, yo.

"ooh! i'm going to be surrounded by seamen! sperm whales and seamen! oh look! a swallow!"

Blog title compliments of Family Guy last night.

That wall? At the top of the stairs?

Not white.

Which, of course, I already knew. There were naysayers. There were those that said I was crazy (which I am but not about the color of that wall).

One coat of primer and one coat of paint and NOW that wall is white.

Barring some sort of weather-related incident I guess we're moving up today. Which is good. We need it. For the sake of our mental health. First thing up is hopefully the bed and I will immediately put fresh, clean sheets on it so it's ready for when we're finished for the night. I think we might move Grace up tonight too. Given that the heater is directly under the open stairs I'm anticipating a fat lazy cat parked halfway up the staircase. I'm thinking we should dip her in glow-in-the-dark paint in an attempt to avoid the inevitable screeching that will occur when we step on her.


This has gone well thus far. This cleaning/fixing things thing. I'm actually a little surprised. Not that I expected us to dissolve into screaming matches over who has to clean the bathtub versus who has to clean the refrigerator as that just ain't our style. But I did expect a little...resentment or more anger even if it was just due to lack of adequate sleep. I think this all bodes well for cohabitation.

having a shopvac is like having your own droid. i think i'm in love!

The stove fit. It's purty. Unfortunately the oven is unusable as the knob isn't functioning properly. Either a safety feature didn't get de-safetied or a knob was faulty. A phone call has been made and it should be taken care of tout de suite. The light in the bathroom that should have been "no big deal" to replace has become a big deal. Sigh. I'm about to call in a near professional who could probably fix the problem in about 2 seconds and be happy to do the work for beer. And the caulk? A vile and disgusting job. Vile. Glove-worthy vile. I'm about half finished with the stripping part having squirted a ton o'caulk softener on there last night before bed.

I'm tired.

The good news? The downstairs closets are almost empty (though I suspect I shopvac-ed up a mummified mouse) and the junk just needs to be hauled to the outbuilding. The fan and the beams have all been vacuumed and wiped down. There is one little light that needs cleaning and then the floors and then we're moving up even with the bathroom in disarray as we'll have access to the downstairs until the end of the month. I want this done. I'm so sick of cleaning. I'm so sick of living in chaos. We really do have plenty of time but I just want it over. It sucks because we keep getting asked to do fun things like go watch the end of the U of M/State game on the old neighbor's new HD tv, but if we don't stay focused we just push ourselves back even further. And with DVD release parties the next 3 weeks and a trip to Chicago next weekend I really really really want to get this move done.

The new Menards--where I did indeed save big money--was a thing of beauty. May I never have to set foot inside Lowe's or Home Depot ever again!

post-Menards, tonight should be a martini night

Roasted beets are delicious. They are even more delicious when tossed with feta, kalamata olives, couscous and garbanzo beans. Peter has never eaten beets which doesn't surprise me but does make me sad in my heart.

Say a little prayer right now that the stove will fit. Because it is indeed getting delivered this afternoon. Tonight we're going to save big money at Menards--the new schnazzy one on 16th and 31--and pick up everything we need to finish. I don't work tomorrow (is it me or does it feel like I've worked every freaking Saturday lately?!) and I hope I can crank out the caulking, the light, the minor painting in the closets, and the cleaning. I'd love to start the book pilgrimage tomorrow night.

Oh and no, I am not packed. Nor am I going to pack. Aside from the books which can go up in boxfuls and go directly onto the plethora of built in shelves, the plan is to move the big stuff: bed, futon, table, rocking chair, yellow chair, lamp thingy from granny, bookcases, record player, tv, and endtables. Next will be the essentials: clothing, toiletries, kitchen stuff. Last up? The I-need-but-don't-use-everyday: sewing machine, yarn, box of journals from 5th grade through college, pictures...Rumor has it there will be a brand spanking new empty dumpster on the property next week sometime which will give me an opportunity to dump a whole bunch of stuff I'm not using/is broken/is torn/is useless. Actually LAST last up is the desk. Which thankfully isn't really going up as I'm pretty sure it would be next to impossible to get up the stairs.

You'll all be happy to hear that Michigan's budget crisis is now officially over. Libraries took an 18% hit which is much easier to swallow than the originally expected 50-75% hit. Schools get a 1% per pupil increase as do universities. The service tax did make it through and though people are grumble-y there's not much that can be done. If the Republican party can find the $750 million dollars that tax is expected to generate without cutting social services I say go right on ahead. I've said it before and I'll say it again: this state is in some serious trouble. We're bleeding out jobs and left with a blue collar workforce used to making good money and no manufacturing jobs for them to go to. The home foreclosure rate in Michigan rose 58% in the third quarter compared to 30% nationally. I honestly don't know where this sense of loyalty to this state comes from as I'm obviously a transplant, but I would actually feel bad if I left. Which is pretty hilarious because it's not as if I'm in the medical field or technology field or any really useful field that could generate revenue. I actually do my best to consume as little as possible given my wacked out hippy liberal environmental views and I don't even own a car which really doesn't do much good for Michgan's former financial pillar. And yet, here I stay.