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  • Silvertree

    Mod post: No wishlist posts in blogs

    By Silvertree

    Please be aware that we do not permit swap-related content on profiles or in blogs. Please post this content only in the For Sale, Swaps, and Wanted forums, or in the Wishlists topic. ~from Swapping 101  Thanks!
    • 5 comments
    • 6,604 views
Fishnets and Frankincense
 

My turn to tell a story

Since Dawndie has written about this, and now Filgree Shadow has told her story, I guess I'm brave enough to tell my own paranormal story. If anything, they make good reading!   My maternal grandfather died when I was 3.5 years old. My mother had helped my grandmother take care of him until he became too ill to stay at home, and she used to take me along. Just as an aside, this was not a good move, but my mother was of the opinion that little kids didn't "get it." She tends to think very small children simply don't have the ability to understand what's going on. But my first memories are of running through a room where he was in bed and I was utterly terrified of him, because cancer had moved to his brain and he was in a state of delirium. Today I have a galloping case of hypochondria, and the seed was no doubt planted at that early age.   But I was his youngest grandchild by about 8 years, and word has it that when he was well enough to live relatively normally, he doted upon me. Based upon photos from what my mother always pronounced in melodramatic tones to be: "That. last. Christmas," this was, in fact, true. I also remember his funeral and my brother working very hard to keep me quiet, because I was rather giddy. My grandfather was dead, and he wasn't going to be around to scare the crap out of me anymore. And my beloved grandma might eventually stop crying. She always felt a lot of anxiety about me seeing him so sick, and my reaction to it. Then I felt bad about making grandma feel worse. Is it any wonder than I'm angsty?   What I recall is that sometime after he died, I was sitting in the waiting room of a doctor's office with my mom. I wasn't sick -- I was getting some sort of immunization. The door of the waiting room opened and my grandpa walked in, dressed exactly as he was when he was well. He sat down across from us and was looking at a newspaper. I leaned forward and stared at him. I looked at my mom, who hadn't glanced up from her magazine. Because my mother has always been an inveterate people-gawker and normally seizes the opportunity to engage a captive audience in a conversation, this wasn't normal. And it was her dead father that she was ignoring! Dood, he's back, at least say hi! I kept staring at him then looking up her. He kept glancing up and saw me staring at him. He looked a little chagrined and wouldn't look directly at me. He acted like someone who was trying to not be seen. I leaned forward even closer, thinking he'd at least say hello. He laid down the newspaper and walked out. My mother kept flipping through the magazine like no one was there. I remember looking at her like she was insane. I can see this entire event in my mind so clearly, it's like it happened this morning.   I always attributed this event to the notion that I was, in fact, sick, and my feverish little brain was working overtime. I never told my family about it. Then about 5 years ago, my mother told me a story about sitting with me in the waiting room of the doctor's office, less than a month after my grandfather had died. She couldn't remember why we were there, but she remembered that I wasn't sick. She said I became extremely, extremely quiet, and then turned, looked at her very seriously and very distinctly said: "I think if you look around here, you'll find grandpa."   I never told her what I remembered, she wouldn't have accepted that as anything but my wild imagination.   I've often read that little children can see and hear things that adults can't, and that the social maturation process shuts off that corner of our mind. I tend to agree with that. Also, never take a toddler along to do hospice care. Not a good idea at all.
valentina

valentina

2
Do you have a flag?
 

Goosebumps!

A couple of days ago I was reading dawndie's blog, totally engrossed in her Sixth Sense Part 1 story. I don't usually talk about things like that because for one I'm afraid people will think I'm nutters, and for two it seems very private. But I feel encouraged by what she wrote, so... here goes.   About a year ago, my husband and I were getting ready for work one morning after it had been raining all night. He was in the shower, I was in the bedroom. Midway through his shower, he thought I was in the bathroom because he heard the sink faucet turn on. When he got out and didn't see me standing there, he yelled at me for leaving the sink on. Problem is, I didn't turn it on. And it's not like I could have left it on and forgotten -- we have double sinks in the master bath, and it was his sink that was on. I never use his sink. We have the kind of knobs that you have to turn clockwise to turn on the water, and it was full-blast. We had no idea how it happened and discussed having a plumber come out to look at it.   When my husband was leaving, he set the alarm as usual, then went in the garage and got halfway to his car door when he realized he forgot his lunch. When he came back in the door a few seconds later, the alarm went off. The whole shebang with sirens and bells, not just that buzzing noise that it does when you open the door and you have 30 seconds to turn it off. It doesn't do that. That's not supposed to be possible. You're always supposed to get 30 seconds of leeway whenever you open a door. When I heard the alarm sound I came flying downstairs to find out what was going on. He was standing there looking at the alarm panel. He turned and looked at me with this confused look on his face and said "What the hell is going on around here today?" He told me what had happened, and I couldn't figure it out either.   I started to walk back upstairs, and when I got to the bottom of the stairs I heard water running. I yelled out, "Oh great, now the faucet has started up again." I started up the stairs, and quickly realized I wasn't hearing the faucet. I came back down slowly as my husband was coming around the corner. I said, "The faucet's not on. What's that noise then?" We stood there for a couple of seconds, and then I said, "Oh, wait. It's the sump pump. We had all that rain last night." He brightened and started to say something, probably to agree with me, when his face suddenly changed. He said, "I haven't heard the sump pump at all this morning." (Our sump pump makes this really loud THUNK noise when it switches off -- you can hear it all the way upstairs in the bedroom.)   He ran down to the basement to see what was going on, and that's when he discovered that the sump pump was broken. Water was already coming out of the pit into the basement. We looked at each other strangely, and he said, "If we had both gone to work this morning, we would have come home to a flooded basement." We looked around at all our boxes of stuff that we store down there, and we both felt a bit of a panic. Anyway, he wound up calling the plumber, and I agreed to work from home until the plumber arrived.   Right after he left the house (he tried opening the door again, no sirens this time), our dog Prudence started going nuts in her crate in the family room. Barking, whining, scratching at the door. She never does that. She was specifically trained to be quiet in her crate. Even after I said, "No" and "Quiet," she kept barking. By then I was pretty freaked out by all this weirdness, so I let her out of the crate. She ran straight into the kitchen and started barking at the stove. I've never seen her behave like that. She wasn't growling, just barking. I thought maybe someone had left food on the counter and she wanted it, but there was nothing there. Everything in the kitchen looked exactly the same as it does every day. She trotted off, and then turned around and came back and barked some more at the same spot.   I opened the fridge to get a drink, and after I shut the door I turned around and looked at the kitchen counter again. I noticed that one of the demitasse cups had been knocked over, and the water that was in it had dumped out on the counter. I am 100% positive it wasn't like that before I opened the fridge. I checked the counter when Prudence was barking! Those cups don't just tip over, they're short and squat. And Prudence hadn't been charging into the cupboard or anything -- there was no huge bump that could have knocked it over.   Then... nothing. The rest of the day, no weirdness. And nothing that strange has ever happened in our house since. I didn't feel anything spine-tingly the whole time. I didn't feel like I was being watched, I didn't feel like I was in danger -- nothing like that. I wasn't afraid. The bizarreness of it freaked me out, sure, but it didn't make me feel like the house was creepy. Actually I felt safe. Kind of protected.   I don't know who or what was here that day, but ever since then I have always knocked on the basement door before I go down there. It seems polite. Just in case.
filigree_shadow

filigree_shadow

3
Is Anybody Out There?
 

Queen Gertrude, De Sade and others

I tried a few imps really quickly before I put them up for swap.   De Sade: Unsurprisingly, it's leather. I'd test it on my husband if I thought he'd like it, because it might smell fantastic on him, but he's not into wearing scents. At least not where he can smell them. I tried a smidge of Manhattan on his collarbone, and he hated being able to smell it. Should I try his hands, maybe? Anyway, right. De Sade. Leather. That's about it. I don't like it on me, but I think I'd love it in other blends. I just don't like it by itself and can't see myself ever wanting to wear this blend. For me, it's a 3 of 10. It's that high because I'd love to smell it on my husband, and I think it's a novelty that I really enjoy.   Queen Gertrude: First struck me as really... I dunno. Overwhelmingly floral and perfumey. Once on my skin, however, it takes a turn for the lovely. I'm thinking Illyria might be my category even more than Wanderlust. It softens into this sweet, warm floral that is comforting and light. Very beautiful. I like it more than Shadow Witch Orchid. Odd note: Gennivre smells almost just like this on my skin, except really oddly bitter. Huh. It ranks an 8, but Gennivre ranks a swap, I think.   A dab of French Love: Bright and friendly smelling. It's just got an undertone that I don't like- there's something turning bitter on my skin, like a bad combination of herbs/greens on me. Not my thing. May be worth trying again at a later date, though. 5.   Saint-Germain: The amber REALLY blooms in this one. I'm pondering keeping it, but I'm not sure I like the beginning enough to want to wear it often. Still, the amber is just stunning. I may test this one again.   Pain: I love the mintiness of this. It's actually very pretty, but doesn't strike my fancy at the moment. I don't hate it. 6.
smallvoice

smallvoice

0
Is Anybody Out There?
 

Setbacks

I've lost momentum with my secret project now that school started and I had to pull out five rows. Five doesn't sound like a lot, but it feels like a lot.   I almost bought a set of size 3 double pointed needles today, and then realized I wouldn't have the first idea how to use them. I'll get there eventually, I guess. I don't know.   I'm doing okay in math so far. I like that it's a much slower pace. I just could not cover that amount of material in such a short time and grasp it... obviously. So I'm going to work really hard this quarter, again.   I need to work out next week. I'll try and go in extra early one day, if I can get to bed early enough. I just need to get in there, it doesn't matter how long. If I do it once, I can do it regularly from there on out without it being too much of a strain on my anxiety. So... here's hopin'.   I wish my switchee would post more!
smallvoice

smallvoice

3
Fishnets and Frankincense
 

The Italian Greyhound

Well hells belles, I haven't written an entry in almost a week! What have I been doing? I'm getting busier at work and it cuts down on my recreational writing time. Whatta gyp!   Last night I went to the pet food store to get some kitty food for Puddin' Tom, and the Italian Greyhound Rescue organization had a table set up by the door. The guy who's the local IG rescue coordinator was there with two of his foster doggies. The one was a bouncy youngster, about a year old. The other dog had some white on his face and was obviously a mature fellow. When I kneeled down to pet them, the older guy came over, put his eensy teensy little paws on my legs and snuggled his head against me and kind of whimpered and cried. The sweetie, the honey! There was another woman there and I wanted her to be able to pet him, but this little dog kept coming back and just leaning on me.   I asked the IG rescue guy what the story was with the older dog -- he said it was an owner surrender. This couple had owned two IGs since the dogs were pups; one dog was 9 and the other was 8. They decided that the dogs were getting older and might get more high-maintenance, so they just turned them over to rescue. Kind of like the dogs were motor vehicles. What doucebags. This little dog kept looking at me with his big sad eyes, and you could tell he's just confused. And sad. And frightened. He's being very well-cared for in his foster home, I know, but the poor little guy wanted to adopt me. He broke my heart.   Look, IGs are really delicate little creatures and I already have a bossy Basset and a very possessive male Boxer. I would seriously fear for the poor little guy. I only hope that he turns on the big-eye nuzzler act on for other women and he gets a wonderful home very soon, so he can be curled up on a couch with a little comforter thrown over him on chilly autumn nights.   Wayward dogs and pain in the ass men, they all love me.
valentina

valentina

1
Is Anybody Out There?
 

Review links: Earliest to most recent

Eris (Wow. This is sort of embarrassing. My nose was just so untrained... yeah. But Eris is special, because she was my first. I'd like to give her another go, now that I'm almost a year into it. Most of my early reviews are exceedingly painful, really.) Scherezade Moxie Eos Jailbait Aizen-Myoo Penny Dreadful (I'd like to try this one again.) Dragon's Milk Black Forest Zombi (Another I'd like to retry) Seraphim Numb (Another I'd like to retry) Inferno Midnight Hamadryad Lick It Hollywood Babylon Hell's Belle (I need to update this review to reflect an aversion to that type of musk.) Glasgow Red Devil Jester Whitechapel Dude! I really need to update this review! It's awful, and for one of my favourite scents ever!) Swank Grand Guignol (I really want to try this one again.) Bliss (I don't love this one so much anymore.) Madrid (Not as enchanted by this one anymore.) Velvet Dragon's Blood Dragon's Hide Dragon's Eye Malediction Blood Voodoo The Lady of Shalott Arkham (Revisited) Akuma (Be sure and read the review by WidgetAlley, which is right before mine.) Follow Me Boy Asphodel Florence Serpent's Kiss Sea of Glass Kali Grog Bluebeard Haunted Hunger Blood Lotus Blood Rose Lilith Block Buster Red Lantern Gingerbread Poppet Endymion Aunt Caroline's Joy Mojo Shub Niggurath Monster Bait: Closet Lolita Alice Rage Bloodlust Voodoo Queen Thirteen (13) Verdandi Tezcatlipoca The Hesperides Santa Muerte Cerberus Lotus Moon Shattered Villain Danse Macabre Debauchery Golden Priapus Coyote Khephra Hetairae Wicked O Morocco Enraged Orangutan Musk The Red Queen Vicomte de Valmont Katharina Hecate Aeval R'lyeh Carnal Port-Au-Prince Black Opal Eat Me Jack Xanthe, the Weeping Clown Chaos Theory: Strange Attractors MLXXVIII (1078) Mme. Moriarty, Misfortune Teller The Candy Butcher Gennivre, L'Artiste du Diable Theodosius, The Legerdemain The Organ Grinder Midnight on the Midway Carnaval Diabolique Devil's Night Thalia Undertow Bewitched Le Serpent Qui Danse Sleepy Moon F5 Et Lux Fuit Aglaea The Scales of Deprivation Miskatonic University Freak Show Halôa Euphrosyne Kurukulla Hymn to Propserpine Mouse's Long and Sad Tale Djinn Kathmandu Pele Eve King of Spades Mabon Nuclear Winter Doc Buzzard Monster Bait: Underpants Pink Phoenix Pumpkin Patch 2 Glitter Bengal Dana O'Shee Dublin Queen of Sheba White Musk Punkie Night Boomslang Bakeneko Australian Copperhead Zarita, the Doll Girl The Oblation Pink Moon 2005 Faith, the Siamese Twin Asp Viper Leo Mr. Nancy High John the Conquerer Bien Loin D'ici Medea Euterpe Beaver Moon Snow Angel Enraged Bunny Musk Night's Pavillion       That's it so far! I have a ton I need to write up, still, though. And I realize you can easily use the search function to see my reviews, but it's nice to just have at my fingertips. (151 as of Snow Angel)
smallvoice

smallvoice

0
Is Anybody Out There?
 

A Rant About Money

I am about sick of money issues coming up. I know I shouldn't be complaining, because it's not like we're starving to death or anything, but it's awfully frustrating being the only one of the three of us with any sort of income. Car insurance and gas money tacked on to everything else is just sort of almost too much to deal with. And here's the thing with insurance: My mom had been taking care of it because she had the money and it was just cheaper for her to do it for a number of reasons. Well, when we went in to have it switched over to my name, they initially quoted a rate that was within our budget, but recanted when they noticed that we didn't get the multiple car discount that my mother has. The rate they quoted then was about double the original one. We went in a couple of days ago to finish up the paperwork and when I asked for the quote again to put in my records, we were given the lower rate- which I didn't notice until we got home. I like the lower rate, but I don't want this to bite us in the ass. Do we go in and bring it up to them? Just wait on it? Oh yeah, and here's something else fun: My windshield is cracked. Got trapped behind two big semi's riding side by side, with rocks piled into the back, completely unprotected, and several of them pelted the windshield. I didn't notice the crack until this week. We can apparently get it fixed for $70, which we don't have to spare, or we can file a claim and have the insurance rate increase. Does that seem right? I'm a bit naive about insurance, apparently, but I've been exceedingly distressed since my husband told me that any claim we make will bump up our rate.   If I had the energy, I'd shriek in frustration.
smallvoice

smallvoice

2
Sourball Ho!
 

Sixth Sense? part 1

Instead of posting a particularly cranky entry, I'll post what I was working on over the weekend in honor of Halloween coming   DH is a mellow, even-keeled guy. He has had a bunch of weird experiences, though, and he doesn’t like to talk about them much. Most happened before he met me and I must be psychically “blocking” him in some way, because I’ve never had anything otherworldly happen to me (even though I love reading about it) and I would probably panic if something actually happened to me personally.   A few things happened after a family member has died. After we started dating, but before we moved into our own place, he and his parents were living at his grandmother’s house (his dad’s mom). Her brother lived in Wyoming and was dying of cancer. One night, not too late, DH was up watching TV after everyone else had gone to bed. There was a loud bang-bang-bang at the front door, and when DH ran to the door there was no one there. DH’s dad, a notoriously heavy sleeper (slept through tornados, earthquakes, etc.), even woke up and asked, “What the hell was that?” They found out the next morning that the uncle had died that night.   Soon after we got our own place, his parents moved back to Ohio (DH has a brother and sister who still live there). His mom had gone through treatment for breast cancer while in California, and though it went into remission it came back after they returned to Ohio. She got sick very quickly and passed away within a couple of months of it recurring. Obviously everyone was devastated, and DH flew back to Ohio for the funeral. He was staying at his sister’s condo and since she had the biggest home it seemed to be the central gathering place for the family. At one point several people were standing in the kitchen talking when suddenly everyone smelled the strong scent of roses, like someone walked into the room with a huge bouquet. There were no flowers in the house, and it was February in the midst of a snowstorm! DH’s sister’s ex-husband was a strange guy, very cerebral and a prickly personality, but the type of guy no one could fool – the guy you’d want with you when you’re buying a car. Even he, a total skeptic, smelled the roses, and was convinced there had to be flowers somewhere; he went through the whole house, opening cabinets and getting frustrated that he couldn’t find the source of the scent. Eventually the scent disappeared suddenly, just as it had appeared.   The closest thing that happened to DH when I was around was when we were apartment-hunting for our own place. We went to a small apartment building that looked like a 1920s Spanish bungalow. The open apartment was in the back, on the second floor with an outside balcony/walkway. We walked through the place for a few minutes, then as we were getting in the car I asked him what he thought. DH said, very seriously, “I wouldn’t spend one night in that place!” I asked him what was wrong and he said there wasn’t anything specific, other than he felt like we were being watched and it wasn’t a nice presence. I didn’t feel anything strange, but again I don’t think I’m as tuned-in as he is. The next day we talked on the phone and he said he slept awful the night before; he kept having nightmares of that apartment. He dreamt, over and over, that a guy had pushed his girlfriend off the balcony/walkway. I asked how DH knew that was the guy’s girlfriend, and he said he just knew from the dreams.   Coming soon: part 2, where DH lives in a haunted house!
dawndie

dawndie

4
Goth Hobbit's Blog
 

Of bad dreams and feline antics

Last night, I had a horrible nightmare, of the sort that I haven't had since I was a little kid, and it still has me rattled.   Maybe some background is in order here; when I was a kid -- about five years old -- I got a "bug jar" for my birthday. I was fascinated by nature; I thought that National Geographic specials were the best thing on TV, after Mutual of Omaha's "Wild Kingdom". (I also had a bit of a crush on Marlon Perkins, but only because he was my Granddad's age and got to play with tigers and otters.) Anyway, the jar wasn't meant for long-term habitation; I used it to catch fireflies so I could see them up close, butterflies on occasion (I'd put a flower in the jar and let them fly in); even a praying mantis once. I'd look at them for an hour or so, watch them explore the inside of the enclosure, get a close look at them, and let them go. I never wanted to keep them for long; I understood that they were wild creatures and needed to be free. I felt privileged to have their company for a bit, and wouldn't let my cousin David -- who had a bit of a destructive streak at that age -- hurt or torment them while they were captive.   One afternoon, I found a Cecropia moth, or robin moth, on the back fence. It's highly unusual to see them during the day, because they're a nocturnal species. I ws astounded at the size of this creature; the moth had a six-inch wingspan and bright red and white banding on the body. It was the biggest winged thing I had ever seen that didn't have feathers. I gently got it into the jar, and proceeded to observe it.   About this time, my Mamaw, who was normally a font of good sense, saw my strange visitor, and decided that I "needed" to start a butterfly collection, starting with the moth. I argued with her; I wanted to let it go, but I hadn't quite developed the iron streak that runs in the women of my family. She wouldn't hear of it, and kept me from releasing it several times.   The problem was that Mamaw had only the vaguest notion of how butterfly collections are started, and knew nothing of the infamous "killing jar". My formerly innocent toy took a darker turn as the moth was held captive for the next two weeks.   I learned three things during this time: first, that an agitated moth will beat its wings constantly, and in a species this big, that is no small thing. The constant flutter drumming against the plastic of the jar seemed to follow me wherever I went. Second, I learned that this moth was female, as she started to lay eggs after a week. Mamaw transferred her to a shoebox while I was visiting my Granddad and Grandmama; the beating of her wings against the cardboard was not an improvement. Third, Cecropia moths live for about two weeks. She must have just emerged from her cocoon and completed mating the day before I found her.   For two weeks, the sound of her wings invaded my dreams, and I had nightmares about being surrounded by nine-foot tall moths, in an upright circle, beating at me with their wings. They were all facing inward, hovering vertically, reproach in their eyes and attitudes. After a couple of nights of this, I was afraid to release the moth; convinced that she would try and kill me for allowing this to happen, for doing this to her. Two weeks of the sound of her desperate wings during the day, and nightmares all night.   She died while I was out of the house, not outside where she belonged, but trapped in the darkened confines of a box. Mamaw, making good on her promise, mounted her on a piece of cardboard. In a bizarre twist, the pin she selected was one of her sewing pins, and the head was almost the exact same shade of yellow as the eggs the moth had laid. I hated looking at the display.   The night the moth died, I had my last nightmare. The moths that had surrounded me were dead; lying on their backs, wings spread and eyes dulled, in a circle around me. I was free to go, Yet, I knew that as I stepped out of the circle, if I so much as brushed one of their wings for the briefest moment, the most minute instant of contact, they would come back to life, and kill me.   From that day forward, I've been scared of moths.   I was convinced as a child that all of them knew what I had done, and were just waiting for their moment. Miller moths provoked the worst reaction; I was convinced that they would fly up my nose and suffocate me. Butterflies didn't scare me; my childish logic was that their wings folded upwards rather than backwards, and therefore they couldn't fly up my nose. Still, it was years before I was comfortable around them. Grasshoppers in flight also scare me; their wings make almost exactly the same whirring noise that haunted my days so long ago.   Last night's nightmare was about being trapped in my bedroom by Cecropia moths. Dumb? Maybe, but it went straight to the five-year-old part of my brain and held on. Especially since that was the first dream I've had involving them since I was five, making it all the worse somehow.   It's also no surprise that one of my favorite Buffy episodes is "Nightmares". The scene where Wendell explains about his recurring dream about the spiders resonates deeply with me.   Now, how do feline antics come into this? As I was pouring the details of my dream into an e-mail, Panther attacked a picture across the room to get at something behind it. That something apparently turned out to be a moth; not a Cecropia, thank Excolo (to borrow a phrase from Indicolite), or I'd be about six counties away by now, barefoot and heading northeast at warp speed. But a largish one nonetheless, which has since fluttered out of sight.   Is it any wonder that I'm still wide awake?
goth_hobbit

goth_hobbit

0
Do you have a flag?
 

BPAL project for my statistics class

YAY! School started today! I went to my statistics class tonight, and I think it'll be interesting. We have to do a statistics project for the class, and I'm thinking about doing something related to BPAL (of course). The only question is.... what?   I thought maybe I could figure out from the descriptions which notes were most popular and least popular in the Lab's blends (which ones occur most and least frequently), and then do a small survey and find out which notes are most and least popular among people who buy BPAL.   Obviously I can't list ALL the notes, that would be immense. So that would give me a chance to use the "random sampling" method to pick maybe 10 or 20 notes. And then ask people something like "do not like/neutral/like" to see if that tells me anything about whether the notes that are most popular in BPAL blends are also most popular among BPAL consumers. And vice versa.   I'm kind of afraid to do it, though, in case the whole thing backfires. What if it turns out that there are notes that are consistently disliked in like 85% of the blends or something? I can't see that being something the Lab would want advertised, even if it's just among the 30 people in my class.   Does anyone have a better idea for a project I could do? Or any thoughts about whether this would be an interesting project? Now that I've thought of it, I do kinda want to know how it would turn out...
filigree_shadow

filigree_shadow

0
Is Anybody Out There?
 

Of Bpal and of Life

Life: Week one is over tomorrow. I totally chickened out and dropped art immediately. It was a good decision. I get to focus on math and enjoy my psych class and then I have extra time to work out.   Of BPAL: My husband commented today that he likes Port-au-Prince on me. I'm in love with the scent. I think I need to re-explore almond scents that I snubbed early on. Bastet, I'm looking at you. So, yeah. Port-au-Prince is on my list of favourites now. My Alice imp is leaky. This is sad! It's my new sleep-time scent! Has anyone tried Les Fleurs du Mal? I guess I could go read reviews. Is it cloyingly floral? The description seems overwhelming, and yet I want to try it.   Life: I thought I had a quiz tomorrow, but then I realized I didn't! One more week to study vocab.   Of BPAL: I'm kinda excited about getting stuff together for my switchee. I need to pick up some things... I just hope she doesn't think I'm lame. I do feel like I'm gradually getting better at it, though! I'm going to work on doing my GC package sniffing on weekends and then shipping during the week.   Life: It's better with a routine. I need a strategy for next summer. But that will wait a few months, I think. In the meantime...   BPAL! (Er, I mean, studying.)   I'm doing better.
smallvoice

smallvoice

0
Goth Hobbit's Blog
 

On pillaging the bagel shop...

For someone with as thoroughly Southern an upbringing as I had, I have a remarkably wide-ranging taste in foodstuffs. Granted, some of this can be attributed to my childhood; one of my aunts is Thai, my dad was a gourmet cook, my father (no, not the same person; my father couldn't cook to save his life) would just about commit larceny for good Chinese and Greek cuisine (he would buy an entire tray of homemade baklava at the annual Greek festival), Granddad got me hooked on lychees and pine nuts ...basically, food is the one aspect of my young life that was culturally broad, relatively speaking. So it should come as no surprise that I like things like good bagels and curry as much as I do grits and boiled peanuts.   Anyway, the local bagel shop sent me an e-mail coupon for a special that's guaranteed to keep me in boiled baked bread for a couple of weeks; buy a baker's dozen, get a half-dozen free, and I took them up on it earlier today.   On Talk Like A Pirate Day, natch.   I got to chatting with one of the staff, and mentioned what day it was. Soon, the entire store was ringing with "avast"s and "yarrrr"s. However, they hadn't gotten one of those coupons before this afternoon, and soon the manager was roped in.   "Today be 'Talk Like a Pirate Day'", I said to the rather confused looking woman, "and I be plunderin' yer store with a coupon!"   She took the amusement in stride, and confirmed that the e-mail was valid. The staff filled up two boxes with baked goods, and I was on my merry way. When I got back to the house and started unpacking, though, I found out that I had caused a minor distraction, to the tune of two extra bagels.   Now, normally, I would feel as though I should go back tomorrow, 'fess up, and pay for the extras. Given the day, though, I'm tempted to just sum it up thusly:   "Pirate."
goth_hobbit

goth_hobbit

0
Is Anybody Out There?
 

School

Art   If you heard a noise that sounded much like a sonic boom early monday, that was my anxiety skyrocketing.   Monday was baaaad. Tuesday was better. Wednesday, I suspect, will be even better.   I'm feeling good about my math class and the instructor and the pace. I love my psych instructor and I'm interested in the subject, so that one's a delight. Winter quarter, I'll do 3 classes. I need to conserve my energy for now.   Bed, now.  
smallvoice

smallvoice

0
Whiskers and Whispers
 

London Meet 'n Sniff...

I had such a great time at the London MnS (spelt like this because it resembles CnS...spelling it M&S makes me think of Marks and Spencers!) with twistedcoil, storme and ellemir. It's wonderful to chat BPAL-to actually talk, exchange and try out BPAL-with real human beings, makes a change from typing behind a grey box. And they were so nice! I enabled twistedcoil and got enabled-now I am hooked on Loviatar. It smells like a feminine Doc Constantine with a wonderful musk-amber going on behind the leather. I have an imp of it on the way but now I want a bottle. Mmm. We spent about two hours talking about our BPAL and loved every minute of it. It's great because my uni friends seem to be so absent these days so I had very little social contact with others during summer hols, so this was such a refreshing change. I hope to do another MnS with them again some time.   I have to say that the CD update has been one of the best my nose has ever experienced, both CD and GC scents. Stars of this round of new stuff include Moriarty, CD, Midnight/Midway, Lyonesse, Cockaigne, Three Brides, Gennivre, Candy Butcher, Uruk, Les Bijoux and much more...I'm amazed. Now that I know that my loan will come next week, I have some big orders planned...
PurringPulsar

PurringPulsar

1
Is Anybody Out There?
 

My knitting project

My super-secret knitting project? Yeah, it's taking forfreakingever. Am I just excruciatingly slow? I think I might be halfway done with it now, and I've been knitting for a week. How quickly should this be taking shape? Am I going way too slowly, or is this average? ... I think I may go with PM's.
smallvoice

smallvoice

0
Diplomatka
 

More violence

If you look in my gallery you will see pictures of a co-worker's engagement party. One of people killed in this attack was the brother of the groom.     Road Blast in Afghanistan Kills Three Aid Workers Anti-Taliban Offensive Launched in 5 Provinces   By Pamela Constable Washington Post Foreign Service Sunday, September 17, 2006; Page A18   KABUL, Afghanistan, Sept. 16 -- Three Afghan aid workers were killed Saturday when their vehicle hit a bomb on a highway just south of the capital, while 7,000 Afghan and U.S. troops launched an operation against Taliban insurgents in five eastern and central provinces.   Police said the unidentified aid workers were killed and a fourth was injured when a remote-controlled bomb exploded under their vehicle. The attack was the fourth major bombing in eight days.
Confection

Confection

0
Is Anybody Out There?
 

Just checking in

Frazzled.   School starts on monday. What's it going to be like? What if I get lost? What if I wear the wrong shoes? What if I've got the wrong lunch box? What if I trip on the stairs? ... right. I've been here before, and I have badass shoes (except the ugly gold ones I wore at my wedding) and I don't have a lunch box, and if I trip on the stairs for the zillionth time, then I'll laugh for the zillionth time and accept help up from the cute boy who calls me ma'am. ...wait. That was mostly right. Except for the boy calling me ma'am. And, really, how often do I trip on the stairs?   So, yeah. Nerves are high.   In other news: My mom has not been to the ER, so no more bleeding as of yet. The doctor came over and changed her bandage and generally checked her leg out. He says it looks ouchy but okay. Well, I'm summarizing.   I haven't kept up with anybody else lately, and I'm really sorry for that. I'm on power-save mode right now, which sucks, especially if you're my friend Rob, who had a birthday several days ago and didn't get a phone call from me. But I remembered! My anxiety has just been so friggin' high lately that everytime I think about calling him now, I think "He'll think I forgot!" and then it all goes downhill from there.   Stupid anxiety. Stupid nightmares. Grr.   I need to get my school things together. Notebooks and whatnot. I think I'm going to end up carrying three bags; one for each class. I'm wondering if I'll need the psychology book. I know the instructor, and I haven't used any textbooks in his classes thus far, but none of them were psych. I guess I'll figure it out. I'm looking forward to next week being over with. I wish I could just ask the art instructor if he's going to be a psycho-lunatic, but that probably wouldn't go over well.
smallvoice

smallvoice

0
Welcome to the Flophouse
 

Dipping a toe in the water

7:30 and all is well. The rain has stopped, for now, but the forest still drips water.   I discovered today that I really cannot handle Tisiphone's mojo. I like her scent, but every time I've worn it weird things have happened. It has far too much nervous energy for me, and makes me irritable. This is the first time I've really acknowledged that the inspiration for Excolo scents should, perhaps, be taken into account more seriously.   I'm hoping the evening will be calmer.
Kittyflop

Kittyflop

0
Fishnets and Frankincense
 

Go Big Thread Count!

The college football team that has the big-ass stadium in my town is currently in L.A., playing USC. I have some family members who flew out to L.A., and they're sitting in the stadium, watching it right now. I have the TV on in the other room and I'm only semi-paying attention. If I hear a lot of yelling, I stop and listen to what happened. I haven't been to a Nebraska home football game for, I don't know... over 15 years? I never sit and watch one on TV; it seems like a giant waste of time. When games are on TV, it's actually a very good time to go shopping, but there's a thunderstorm moving in and I really don't want to be in a store if a tornado warning happens. And we had one of those last night... it did rain like a bastard, but the ominous wall cloud skirted south of town.   But, back to football. It's not like I never watched football -- I used to watch it all the time. It's difficult to avoid growing up in this state. My brother started playing high school football when I was about 2 years old. I remember being miserably cold and bored at my brother's games. And even though I don't watch it very much at all these days, I can still turn into one of the boys for a play or two and get into discussions about the design of the play, spot the holding or facemask violation or watch a receiver closely enough to see if he's in or out of the field of play when he comes down with the ball. But then I get bored and leave. Too many people in this state base their identity around the football team's success or failure. There are many things in the world that you can use to make yourself miserable, but I don't think the relative success or failure of the Huskers is a valid excuse for depression.   Actually, what I did find depressing was when I flipped past the Nebraska coach's TV show the other night and he had on the most butt-ugly sports jacket I have seen on TV in years. From a distance, I thought it was some ultra-cheesy blue denim sports coat from the '70's. I kept watching the show just to see a close-up. It was a lighter (denim-colored) blue wool coat with a bit of a plaid design in it. Even worse! Shades of Rodney Dangerfield in "Caddyshack!" The previous coach turned the team to shit, but he was dapper enough. He was a spokesperson for a local men's clothier and they supplied him with clothing. I have no idea who is giving the current coach his clothing, but Pat Riley he is not.   Hmmm... I think the thunderstorm has passed and I can go to the gym -- it's another good thing to do during games. The game is usually on the TVs, so I can look up and check the score to see what's happening. Actually, I always want Nebraska to win, or to at least play well, because then I don't have to deal with everyone else's bad mood and complaining on Monday morning.   In closing, I really want to go spend money for sateen bedding. I have one set, and I want more. Why does it matter to me what the thread count is of pieces of fabric that I lay on when I'm mostly unconscious, or at least in an altered level of consciousness? I don't get it, but it so nice to wake up and fall asleep on sateen sheets, especially when I wear Mme. Moriarty, which smells so insanely good that it makes me want to have sex with myself.   I can't think of anything else to say after that last comment, so I think I'll just stop. Go Big Thread Count!   ETA: OK, I misspelled "thread" as "tread" because I was being inattentive, as all the weather bulletin beepers went off and I did want to jump up and run off to see what that is all about. A tornado was 50 miles or so north of us, around Omaha. It proceeded to rain like a bastard and even hailed a little bit, so I decided to not go to the gym. Once I ascertained that the tornado wasn't hitting hard in Omaha (it didn't do any damage), I somehow became entranced watching a cheesy infomercial for a 10-CD set of '70's music. The video clips of the '70's artists featured on the CDs were hypnotizingly odd. These CD sets have a lot of the pop music of the '70's, and the word "geek" kept going through my head. There was one guy, however, who was a one-hit wonder and he did look a lot like the guy who played Denny on "Gray's Anatomy" last season. I think the score of the game is USC 21, Nebraska 10. A respectable effort, considering we sucked two years ago and they were national champions. (See, I know more about football than I want to admit.)
valentina

valentina

2
Goth Hobbit's Blog
 

Silly people...

There are times when my shows at the Cafe are busy, productive, and profitable.   Today has not been one of those times.   So, I'm going to listen to Poison on the jukebox (somebody's got a fun sense of music tonight; from "Another Brick in the Wall" to this), and document some of the questions I get asked, and what I sometimes wish I could say in return. Just for the hell of it.   Question: "What have you got here?" What I say: "Handmade jewelry." What I'd like to say: "Papayas, fishing tackle, and old socks. Oh, and the gnomes that I'm babysitting. Watch your ankles; they bite."   Question: "Do you make all of this yourself?" What I say: "Yes, I do." What I'd like to say: "No, I'm just carrying it for a friend. You know, like 9 1/2 months pregnant women who get asked if they're going to have a baby."   Question: "Is this stuff real?" What I say: "Do you mean precious metal and gemstones? Yes, it is." What I'd like to say: "No, it's all created by a prototype hologenerator. Like Star Trek. Either that, or you're having a very strange hallucination. Let me know if Hunter S. shows up, okay?"   Question: "Why are you here?" What I say: "Because I've known the owner of the Cafe for years now, and it's a convenient place to set up." What I'd like to say: "Because it's my turn to babysit the gnomes, and do you know how much amusement park tickets cost these days?"   Question: "Do you do tattoos?" What I say: "No, I don't." What I'd like to say: "Well, I've got a planishing hammer, a pearl reamer, and a Sharpie. Hold still..."   Question: "Don't you have any guy's jewelry?" What I say: "Many of my designs are made to be unisex; it's just a matter of finding something that you like in the right size. And several of the antique reproduction rings are men's rings." What I'd like to say: "Giant snarling wolves, skulls with Viking helmets, and demons, right? Bar-fight rings, in other words. There are lots of large-scale manufacturers doing that with varying degrees of success; what part of original design and antique reproduction did you misunderstand?"   Question: "Can you make me something in brass, with like, rivets 'n stuff?, 'Cause it'd be, like, industrial and kewl." What I say: "I only work in precious metals; otherwise, I'd have to buy a whole new set of tools to avoid cross-contamination." What I'd like to say: "And you wouldn't want to pay for the labor anyway."   Question: "Your prices aren't exactly competitive. Can't people go to (insert name of import store) and find exactly the same thing? " What I say: ::launches into Canned Explanation of cost of silver, cost of labor, use of genuine stones, the fact that much of the silver jewelry comes from countries that don't enforce standards of metal purity, and many pieces are outright counterfeits; that I purchase raw materials directly from refineries and manufacturers in countries that enforce karat standards and do all of the work myself -- so, "no":: * What I'd like to say: "Someone's stepping on my copyrights? Sweet! Filing a lawsuit is a lot less work than busting my hump over the workbench, and usually more profitable."   *(this usually results in a blank look and a response of "uh, no, I guess they can't, then...")   Question: "Don't you have anything more Dark and Gothick?" (pretentious spelling and capitalization added deliberately) What I say: *points to various bats and replicas of jewelry originally owned by people who are now quite thoroughly dead* What I'd like to say: "It costs extra to make the earrings recite Poe. Double for Bram Stoker. However, the originals that the replicas are made from are haunted, if that helps."       If there was one thing I learned from Jim, my Old Goat, it's that a sense of humor is a valuable addition to an independent jeweler's skill set.       (Note to whoever's running the jukebox tonight: this cover of "Marianne" is disturbing. Instead of Andrew Eldritch's basso drone, it has calypso guitar and breathy-voiced girl channeling every French chanteuse who's ever lived. The effect is discordantly perky. Isn't she paying any attention to the lyrics?)
goth_hobbit

goth_hobbit

4
This Old Snark
 

Sailed Away

Exciting, yes, but also New!   The Snarks are heading out to sea for the next week. Snarky hopes to catch y'all on the filp side. Her first week of new work was all sorts of exciting/boring/exciting again. She is really happy about her career change.   Glub glub!
darkitysnark

darkitysnark

4
Is Anybody Out There?
 

A swap idea

So, I got that mixed cd from my switch witch, and I know this is nothing new, but wouldn't it be neat to have a swap where all the participants made up either one or many cd's equalling the number of participants, and then send one of each off to everyone? Am I explaining that well enough? I know it's been done before, though I can't remember if I saw it on BPAL or not.   In other news: My mother nicked an artery in her leg last night (or so said the EMTs who bandaged it up) when she tripped over her printer table. It was not stitched because her skin is too thin to handle it. She didn't go down to ER last night, though- they told her that nothing more could really be done, and that she wasn't in any danger unless she started bleeding profusely again. So I waited up most of the night to see if we were going to be heading for the ER or not. I got maybe 4 hours of sleep last night. Good prep for school, I suppose.   School starts on monday. I don't have my financial aid money, which means I don't have most of my books. I do have the most important book, however; my math book. I'm pondering dropping the art class and just dealing with math and psych, but that seems lame. I feel like I should be more nervous about school starting.   Still looking for pretty knitting patterns, as always! Also, what are some easy socks to start with? I'll eventually get the right kind of needles and yarn, and ze socks will be mine! Especially the snowflake socks, and the snicket socks. I don't remember where the snicket ones are- magknits, maybe? But, yeah.
smallvoice

smallvoice

0
Sourball Ho!
 

My mother is insane

She isn't really insane, but sometimes I wonder about how her brain works. She sent e-gift certificates for my birthday (yay Amazon!) but the last time we talked she said she was sending a box too. That came last night, and inside was:   --the new Janet Evanovich book (she's bought me the last several Stephanie Plum books, they're pretty funny) --a teeny purse with Marilyn pictures on it -- it would probably hold your ID/credit card and a small lipstick, and that's it. I wish it was bigger! --some L'Oreal tube eyeshadows --some bath samples (a company called Andrea?) of sugar scrubs, mud masks, etc. --a hand-crank flashlight (no batteries needed) --an exfoliating sponge -- am I too flaky? --a couple of Lustreware salt-pepper sets, one are little birds and the other has a Japanese tree/garden scene painted on each one   I know where I get my pack-rat collecting obsessions from, but she obviously sees random things and thinks, "I need to buy this for ____" and out it goes for a gift. Everything was wrapped individually and it was like this crazy lottery -- what will be next?   She loves doing Christmas stockings too, and it's the same miscellanea; last year one gift was a purse hanger that you take with you to a restaurant, so you can hang your purse off the table instead of setting it on the floor. I didn't even know I needed one of those!   Random linkage: here's someone posting about his mom, who really is insane. Pack Rat Ahead! If I ever get to this point, kill me. This was originally on the forums in Something Awful:   http://www.auctions-registration.com/ebay/?p=1
dawndie

dawndie

6
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