Thursday, February 28, 2008

Smiting myself with a time management book



I would love, really and truly love, to have a set schedule. I would. You know, get up, have a shower, breakfast, workout, start the laundry, all in a neat and tidy order, all by XXX o'clock a/pm. I'd love that.

It's just not going to happen.

Here's my average day. It goes one of two ways...

Version 1

  • Out of bed sometime between 11 am and 3 pm.
  • Meditate for however long it takes my brain to start functioning
  • Start the coffee
  • Boot the laptop and say hello to whoever I need to say hello to today
  • Drink coffee and knit

Anywhere from 1 to 4 hours after I wake up the hubbo wakes up as well. At that point

  • Have breakfast
  • Get back on the computer/out of the way until the hubbo goes to work
  • Grab a quick shower, if I'm going to
  • Start the laundry
  • Alternate doing chores with fooling around on the computer until people go to bed.
  • Knit and listen to my podcast collection/read for a while until the hubbo gets home
  • Go to bed 17-20 hours after I got up.

Version 2:

  • Out of bed sometime between 11 am and 3 pm.
  • Meditate for however long it takes my brain to start functioning
  • Start the coffee
  • Boot the laptop and say hello to whoever I need to say hello to today
  • Drink coffee and knit

Anywhere from 1 to 4 hours after I wake up the hubbo wakes up as well. At that point

  • Have breakfast
  • Grab a quick shower, if I'm going to
  • Start the laundry
  • Alternate watching movies/Stargate with fooling around on the computer until people go to bed.
  • Somewhere in there break for supper
  • Go to bed 17-20 hours after I got up.

And here is my ideal day, really

  • Out of bed sometime between 11 am and 3 pm.
  • Meditate for however long it takes my brain to start functioning
  • Start the coffee
  • Boot the laptop and say hello to whoever I need to say hello to today
  • Have breakfast
  • Grab a quick shower, if I'm going to
  • Start the laundry
  • Drink coffee and knit until it's time to go somewhere/the hubbo goes to work/it's time to meet someone on line
  • Alternate watching movies/Stargate/doing chores with fooling around on the computer until people go to bed.
  • Somewhere in there break for supper
  • Knit and listen to podcasts/read for a while
  • Go to bed 17-20 hours after I got up.
I see the problem, it's a painfully obvious problem. But 3 days out of the week breakfast is the only meal the hubbo and I have together and I am not going to give it up. Maybe 4 days. Or two days. And sometimes I don't know until a few hours before.

And I already know I don't sleep well without the hubbo, and his schedule is *very* random as to when he gets to sleep. So while I may never have things done by XXX a/pm, it would be nice to say "have them done XXX hours after I get up". So be able to say.

  • Get up = hour 0
  • Hour 1 = Start the coffee, boot the laptop
  • Hour 2 = Have breakfast
  • Hour 3 = Workout
  • Hour 3.30 = Have a shower
  • Hour 4 = Get dressed and start the laundry

And so on right down the line.

*sigh*

Well, now that I have the problem defined, how to find an answer.

Sunday, February 24, 2008

I really try not to do memes



But everyone I know has hit this one...

1. Pick 15 of your favorite movies.
2. Go to IMDb and find a quote from each movie. Or from your own memory.
3. Post them here for everyone to guess.
4. NO GOOGLING/using IMDb search functions.
5. Strike it out when someone guesses correctly, and put who guessed it and the movie.
6. Those who guess correctly have to do the Meme next! (This you don't have to do if you don't want to).

------

1) Speaker 1: It could be worse.
[creature growls]
Speaker 2: It's worse.

2) We’re gonna need a bigger boat.

3) There's a shortage of perfect breasts in this world. It would be a pity to damage yours.

4) Amazing how you can do without the essentials of life, so long as you have the luxuries.

5) But the worst mistake you made...empty gun rack.

6) Personally, I'd give us one chance in three. More tea anyone?

7) By the way... you have to *ask* for absolution to be forgiven... asshole.

8) He still digs humanity, but it bothers Him to see the shit that gets carried out in His name - wars, bigotry, televangelism.

9) I'm never gonna get paid.

10) It's coffee time! Coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee! Cappuccino, java, YES!

11) Now I want yous all to cheer like Protestants!

12) Everybody in this family needs to just calm down and eat some fruit or something.

13) Do you not know that in the service one must always choose the lesser of two weevils?

14) Dude, you have a bazooka. Stop thinking Prague Police and start thinking Playstation. Blow shit up!

15) Laugh it up, fuzzball.

Saturday, February 23, 2008

Still trying to absorb


This.

http://junkfoodscience.blogspot.com/2008/02/i-think-therefore-i-am-part-three.html

And the idea that discrimination leads to bad health due to stress levels. Especially this sentence...

Children living in the most socially disadvantaged settings (poor, minority, low-education and without parents) have four times the risks of poor health, regardless of health insurance and access to healthcare. One study of Canadian children, ages 6 to 10, found that those from low socioeconomic families had significantly higher stress cortisol levels than same-age children from high socioeconomic families.


High cortisol levels. As in Cushing's syndrome, or Pseudo-Cushing's syndrome. She's arguing, I believe, that obesity in and of itself doesn't lead to health issues, it's the increased stress due to discrimination based on obesity.

Or on being Jack's red-headed stepchild, the supposed lesbian, who's not really a woman under those clothes. And so on, and on. After all the lies he told about me to isolate me, is it any wonder I was discriminated against, on top of being discriminated for being fat and living in California. Up to and including crappy health care that let to my back problems now.

I still need to get my back fixed, but now that I'm in a better place, and head space, well the possibilities could be endless.

I want to learn

The joy of being a housewife is that at least until the kids come around, your time is really your own.

The problem is figuring out what you want to do with it.

I've been thinking over the idea of making a "life list", and ongoing list of things I'd like to do before I die. So far I have...

Knit myself real, honest to god socks, in a week or less. Be that kind of good.
Knit myself a sweater. Actually finish a project that big. Twice, so I know it wasn't a fluke.
Knit a bridal lace shawl. One of these will do nicely.
Learn to speak another language, not Spanish and not Italian. French? Arabic? Portuguese?
Learn to play piano.
Learn to cook really good Chinese food.
See the Alhambra
Drive through New England, and see Williamsburg and Boston.
Tour England.
Visit Tel Aviv, just to see what it's really like.
Ride a motorcycle.

I have no doubt more will be added.

At the moment I'm looking at this list, and looking at my current yarn bill. Lace scarf pattern, $6.00 (Start small),...needles for two-at-a-time sock pattern and sock yarn, $9.78....yarn for a sweater vest, enough for a whole project at once (still starting small), $32.23...kit for a travel sewing kit, $14.90

Being convinced your dreams, even if they aren't big ones, deserve the investment...yea, priceless. You knew that was coming.

Friday, February 22, 2008

Just to make it quite clear

Everyone involved with the role play thing I posted about down there had been quite wonderful about it all. We're all trying to be helpful and accommodating, and trying to make it work so everyone has fun. I'm not knocking the sweetheart's player, or the one who is with him, or his administrative assistant there (she knows who she it)they've put a lot of effort into it all and I am very grateful.

But this is my blog, and I will share my opinion.

And in my opinion it's like trying to plan a vacation among friends when someone's two year old twins are having a tantrum in the middle of the room. You're trying to figure out how to have fun, hell even the planning is supposed to be fun, you've got the munchies and the bottle of wine and the maps and guide books, but these two year old twins are whining and screaming and carrying on and on and on...and eventually Mom and Dad have to take the two year old twins home and put thm to bed, thereby giving them *exactly* the attention they want. Which is the right thing, maybe, I suppose, but it does leave the childless couple, the husband and I, rather stuck. Our party this evening has been ruined, and since the two year old twins tends to start screaming every time their parents take their attention away, even to talk on the phone, it makes planning the vacation darn near impossible. And yes, at this point it looks like the twins will be coming along on the vacation with us.

At which point the husband looked at me and said the equivalent of "I know they're your friends, I like their company too, but you know they won't get a babysitter, and do you really want to put up with that? No hard feelings to them, they have to do what they think is right, but why don't we just go on this vacation just the two of us instead."

Now, I'm sitting here trying to keep everyone involved and not make hard feelings, and trying to only say nice things about the children and suggesting that maybe we can work this out over e-mail, or the phone, or later when the twins go to bed, or
something, anything just so we can all go on this vacation together and perhaps relax and have fun. And over and over I'm hearing how we all have to accomodate the girls because after all they are children and they really are wonderful to be around...when they are behaving themselves, and how they deserve to be included as much as anyone. So really, we must include the children and not talk harshly to them, and not expect them to behave and they must in no way suffer the consequences of their actions because, after all, they are children.

Yes, when my husband said that it was a huge weight lifting off my shoulders. You mean we can go enjoy ourselves, as adults, without the children? Have conversations and listen to good music and drink a bottle of wine and just relax? Oh heaven....

So yes, no offense to the parents in this simile here. I love you guys, I love your company, I am eternally grateful for all the effort you put into trying to make this vacation work, you're always more than welcome to join us, but your kids are driving me nuts and I need a break.

No, I don't know what's going on.

For some odd reasons the posts look like the are bending around a picture, see, over there --->. No, I don't know why. I plan to e-mail the maker of this template and ask. In the meantime I plan to stop playing the perfectionist, not fiddle with the HTML, and ignore the problem.

Call me a romantic...

...or perhaps blame it all on PMS. Late I have been dying for romance. I'd give anything to be swept off my feet, carried off to the knights castle, be told he can't live without me, must have me, I'm the center of his universe, et cetera, ad nauseum. I'm not normally like this. I know my value in the universe, thank you very much, I don't normally need someone to prop my up emotionally. My usual requests for the knight is that he carry out the litter boxes for dumping and take care of the ookier jobs on the car, that sort of thing. But the past few weeks have been nuts. I keep wanting to make pastry and embroider things and read the old school classic romances. And the weepies, someone please turn off my faucet!

Why yes, I have been having trouble standing myself.

It doesn't help that I have adopted the most mushy, romantic role play character ever, and she has been turned upside down. She had been nearly engaged, on the verge of marrying her childhood sweetheart, when his player honestly admitted he couldn't play the sweetheart anymore, it just was not going to happen. No one else wanted that character, so the sweetheart was summarily killed off. This after for the past six months she has been adapting to suddenly losing her hearing, having surgery to fix a particularly nasty burn scar, having to re-grow out a shaved head, dealing with PTSD and depression, and thinking the feds were after her. Oh, the tragedy of it all, we top the soap operas every day. She and I have been mourning for weeks, right through PMS week. No wonder I've been crying buckets.

Enter my husband. My wonderful, wonderful husband.....

He took a look at the situation and noted that the sweetheart's player was also role playing relationships with two other women, who were not only whiny and needy characters, they were also whiny and needy players. Now I have never been know to be all that whiny and needy a player, I have a family, a support system, other interest and hobbies and so on, my life does not revolve around role play. From the sound of it, theirs does. And the player of the sweetheart has the love of his life at home, it's not like they're going to get anywhere. Not only that, but his one character is involved with both their characters, and the character he plays with them is a rough, rude, and crude street rat who's idea of romance is unusual at best.. They are never going to get what they want from him, either of them. But they will whine and cry and drive everyone nuts about it.

Anyway, the husband's conclusion was that, to use a
cliché, that the squeakier wheels were getting the grease, and that I have been getting shafted, so he came back with "Kill the sweetheart off, once your character is over the grieving process I'll have my character fall in love with her, and we'll have all the romance and dedication she, and you, could ever want." His next moves were to take me to Barnes & Nobel so I could pick up copies of "Emma", "Sense and Sensibility", and "Pride and Persuasion", further assuaging my need for romance, to look the other way when I made calico book covers (because I am a fabric slut, any excuse to spread around the calico), and to take out the litter box.

Call me a romantic, but I think my husband in wonderful.

Thursday, February 21, 2008

Restart

...here we go again.