Oops. Wrong show.
Recall the comic/histrionic tableaux competing families assumed at the beginning of that old gameshow mainstay, The Family Feud. If the DarkityFam were to pose thusly, Snarky believes she and her mother would be in the shouldn't-be-funny-but-really-is Mexican standoff mutual strangle-hold position.
Of course Snarky loves DarkityMa. She is cute (her hair grew back with a vengance and is curly of all things!) and cuddly and has a wicked sense of humor. She also can't stay still without cleaning and can hold on to grudges for decades. After some of the stories her parents have told the Snarks this past weekend about DarkityPauPau (DarkityGrandma) Snarky understands where the grudge thing comes from (and is starting to understand her own inability to just. Let. It. Go.)
Still, DarkityMa made Snarky cry. Snarky is considerably quick to tears (just watch her during holiday commercials), but these were bitter, angry, angsty, uncontrollable tears that Snarky hasn't cried since probably shortly after the onset of puberty. How does she do it?
Tonight is the Snarks' last night with the DarkityFam. Right now DarkityMa and Pa are meeting with the Snarks' realtor to discuss the local housing market, and to decide whether they want to move here sooner or later. On the balance Snarky would love for her parents to move closer. But there is the niggling, teenaged part of her that chafes a little at the idea -- it is all for entirely selfish reasons. Both of them are shockingly older than Snarky remembers them, and she wants to be able to take care of them without spending a day flying down to get to them.
Another enlightening revelation from this weekend is the fact that even Snarky's parents feel a sort of disconnect with the Chinese-American communities out there. They all have a healthy appreciation for the food and culture, but don't really care so much for the people... if that makes any sense at all. Snarky has found many of her "racial" contemporaries to be rather materialistic and overly driven to max out the monetary measuring stick. The Darkity'Rents moving to Portland would appease the rest of DarkityMa's clan in the Bay Area enough (hey, they're in the same time zone at least!) and still give them enough cushion from all the daily drama. Not to mention the $$$housing costs$$$.
Along with all these eye-opening conversations have been wonderful retellings of family lore. Snarky's mother and father both come from families that were greatly affected by the Japanese occupation as well as the Cultural Revolution. Both families were at some point split up during their exodus to Hong Kong, and the struggles and horrors they faced have left scars that decorate their combined pasts just as prominently as weddings, births, graduations, and other accomplishments.
Most days Snarky lives her life in the now without any sense of her history or the larger picture. Perhaps it would be good to have the touchstones of her parents closer by so that she can keep all of those lives and stories in mind. She just needs to get thicker skin first.
In the past, the Snarks' luck with garden has been rather spotty. One year all they grew was a ginormous basil patch (about 36 Genovese basil plants purchased from a guy who called himself the Basil King (though he isn't this Basil King - see August 14th entry which kinda distracted me from this post for about half an hour. Why do we no longer have the Black Mountain College?!)) and made pesto all summer long and had enough left over to freeze and enjoy all through winter.
So they are quite pleasantly stunned to find that the mere seven basil plants, five tomato plants (gold nugget, an heirloom plant called "Dancing Bonnie", Early Girl, roma, and cherry tomatoes), and one each of eggplant (Japanese "Black Beauty"), cucumber (some sort of slicin' cuke) and zucchini are not only not dying, but bearing some fruit!
Wee ickle first harvest!
A recent photo of the garden, taken in the early evening.
Due to the dry (whoda thunk it?) weather, we've had to water the garden. Here's the tomato/basil/eggplant patch.
So far we've gotten two zucchini plants out of this monter. One was regular sized, and the other one we didn't get to until after returning from NC. Behold zuke-zilla!...
We've used about 2% of this thing so far.
The Snarks did end up having a good time with the Darkity'rents. Snarky starts her new job tomorrow (!!!) and the immediately after her first five days on the new job, they are flying out to TX to join up with the DarkityFam (including DarkityBro) to go on a five day cruise. (more !!!'s) At some point the Snarks will need a vacation to just sit at home and do absolutely nothing with nobody.
Today the Snarks hit four different Goodwill stores in the area for state plates and other curiosities. She has so much to show y'all (including the cow head they got for the living room!) (Don't worry, no real living bovines were harmed in the making of this particular piece of kitsch.) (Oh, and the Donut Barn! But... that's for another post.)
Until then, she will leave you this. Proof that Snarky comes from a cute short peoples.
Darkity'Rents at Multnomah Falls. Check out DarkityMa's new curly hair!
Snarky has been back for a week now, but she can't seem to get the floaty boat feeling out of her head. Add to that the continued "hit-the-ground-runningness" of her new job (which she is really starting to enjoy despite its ability to snatch the hours and days right from underneath her like a neat card room trick) and she just can't seem to find the time to re-establish her online persona.
She's also been feeling a bit Garbo lately too.
Still, she's going to make an effort to get back in to the swing of things.
And where words might be slow in trickling back into the well for her, Snarky always has more pictures!
First day out to sea.
The Hitler Bangs are Dead. Long live the Bangs of Indeterminate Length and/or Direction!
DarkityBro soaking up the sun (and being spied upon by his older sister).
The DarkityRents are also cute whilst evading the pesky paparazzi.
Many moons ago Snarky spent a semester studying ancient Mayan architecture. The Chichen Itza ruins include the main temple (El Castillo) which does a neat trick every Equinox. The Snarks where there a day early. Damn you Murphy, and your stupid Law! It was still an impressive site (and sight), even if the government no longer allows tourists to scramble at their own peril up the steep temple stairs.
Mostly besides the sights and sounds, there was The Food. Oh sweet honey in the rock, was there Food. Snarky will need to make a whole separate post just to discuss the heirarchy and humongousness of The Food.
But for now... she's slinking back into her cave to play with some sticks and string. It up and got all Autumnal before she even realized it. Perfect knitting weather!
This has been a year of body horror. Turning thirty, while not nearly as traumatic on the very day back in January as expected, has become a bit of a milestone despite her best efforts to avoid cliche.
Thirty was when she had her first (and hopefully last) root canal.
Thirty was when she had her first (again, she hopes last, but fears this is really the first of many) cancer scare.
Thirty was when she not only looked at her own changing body, but also The Mister's with a bit of shock, a bit of revulsion. Just a bit.
Her uneasy truce with her skin shattered. She now feels like a dying tree trapped in the tightening grip of some parasitic growth that has managed to encase her in its foreigness, its utter otherness.
She's caved in in a mountain of puss, bile, shit, saliva, and tears. It moves and shifts at the whims of Nature and she must move along with it to avoid suffocating.
A puppet mistress tangled up in her own skeins of control.
She's glad she only has to see the dentist twice a year if a routine cleaning unearths these kinds of thoughts every time!
The Mister's maternal grandmother passed away yesterday. She had been slowly leaving this world for the past two years, but this weekend was her final exit. By all accounts she most likely died in her sleep after they unhooked her from life support.
The Mister had already said good bye to her long before all this. The Snarks went to see her when they visited Back East last fall, but she was hardly the woman they knew even from just six months before their last visit.
They already remember her from a more vibrant time. They are going back not so much to conjure up those memories, but to provide support to the MIL and The Mister's uncle.
They are also going to see their third niece for the first time.
The Snarks knew this was an inevitability (the MIL has been preparing them for this for the last five years) but still can't help but feel a little taken by surprise. This also completely negates any plans they might have had to visit around Christmastime as they have already booked up the rest of their time off with the DarkityFam in mid-September (the vacation AKA Hurricanes Ahoy! 2006).
Snarky will most likely be incommunicado from tomorrow through Sunday when she returns. They will have two days to prepare the house for the week-long visit of her parents starting next Wednesday.
And before they go, Snarky has a second interview at one of her Dream Companies tomorrow. Plenty of things to keep them from getting morbid/morose.
Much to her (and her checkbook's) chagrin, Snarky has developed a taste for LE's.
In keeping with her sporadic - if not downright sparse-to-non-existant - BPAL purchasing/swapping habits, she's probably a couple-three updates behind everyone else in the taste testing. Case and point? Her current go-to scent is Bearded Lady. Her first great love was French Creole. Luckily her day-to-day scent is the comfortably GC Tombstone (albeit combined with a breath of single note sweet clove thanks to minilux).
The Mister insists that all of her BPAL at the end of the day smells like band-aids, so this is purely an exercise in selfish hedonism for her. (Though he does respond positively to just-applied Bearded Lady. For a man indifferent to most BPAL, he sure does have rarified taste!)
Snarky's new job (which, IEEEE! ) comes with many benefits. She keeps herself awake at night just imagining how it will feel to actually look forward to work - something she hasn't honestly done in years. But the job comes with a substantial pay cut. This is admittedly made up for by the inherent awesomeness of her new company and the possibilities that will be open to her in this new field of work, but at face value less moolah is less moolah.
And with less moolah (and the Snarks' joint checking account) Snarky is feeling the pinch on her already fairly anemic impulse buying budget.
The emergency flight Back East, her parents' impending arrival (tomorrow night!!) and the upcoming five-day cruise have and will also drain their resources a bit.
But Snarky has perspective: they are not hungry. They are not drowning in debt. She has plenty of clothes and yarn and, to be honest, BPAL to last quite a while. She could make a large (for her) order and not break the bank.
Still... she wants to celebrate her new direction. So she's going to make a list. It isn't a wishlist so much as a... well, it's just a list. Sometimes Snarky just has to indulge her Cappy tendencies and organize her pipe dreams.
slipped through the fingers
-Hungry Ghost Moon
-Chrysanthemum Moon
constant craving
-Faustus
goin' a-courtin'
-Mme. Moriarty
-Organ Grinder
-Pumpkin Queen
-Count Dracula
-Wilhelmina Murray, maybe (Snarky is, after some fashion, named after this character, afterall - but currants + Snarky = weird fruitiness)
-Dr. John Seward
Ugh. Snarky is really not trying to make this some whiny-pantsed post. She is thrilled to pieces that the Lab continues to mesmerize and delight (exponentially it seems lately). So she'll settle for being happy for everyone who is taking part (and maybe she'll sneak in a wee ickle order of her own under The Mister's nose... so to speak.)
Snarky has lost her freaking mind.
Case and Point
This is the flooring she wants for her bathroom. The Mister wanted something more neutral, but this just spoke to her.
Maybe it's because the colorway is called "Asian Tiger". Snarky is just a complete sucker for names of colors that say nothing about the color. (Then again, The Mister's choice was something like "Picasso Splash" or somesuch.)
Send help. Preferrably in the form of beigy, calming tones.
The Snarks are what you could call DINKs (Double Income, No Kids - Snarky just learned of this acronym last week because she is culturally out of it). They aren't wealthy, nor are they well paid, but they are comfortable and able to indulge in small luxuries like restaurant dining when they want and the occasional pair of new (but sensible!) shoes.
They know they are lucky to have managed their previous investments well enough to be in their current house (which they love just a little more each day even with all the blemishes that every old house has). Though she hasn't been completely willy-nilly about their post-real estate orgy, Snarky has been feeling like the other shoe must drop from their recent "fixin'/preppin' the house for total habitation" purchases.
And that shoe got dropped yesterday over the phone with The Mister. He wants to give notice at his current job. He plans to have his last day be the Friday before the Labor Day weekend. He won't start looking for another job until about a month before his last day.
Snarky knows the contributing factors to this major decision are not flippant ones, but she can't help but feel a bit of panic, a bit like the rug was pulled out from underneath her feet.
He hasn't been happy in that job almost from the beginning. He has been dealing with depression and poor health exacerbated by the high and constant stress. At one point last night he turned to her and said "And if a year from now, if we are both in jobs we really love but that don't pay as much, is it that much of a loss if we can't keep this house?"
And Snarky was torn. She wants him to find his place in the world, she does. She would even like to find out exactly what she should be when she grows up. But this house... this house is already so special to her. She'd like to have her cake and eat it too.
Snarky has been taking pictures like a madwoman, but instead of downloading and formatting, her evenings have been taken up with weeding and painting. She hopes to give you updates soon on the continuing evolution of ChezSnark. There's been hardwood floor refinishing, tub resurfacing, Asian Tigering, and even more painting of retina-searing hues.
She just hopes she won't be covering all of this up with eggshell in a year's time.
Snarky knows y'all must be getting tired of her waxing all faux-philosophical and all and why can't she just get back to posting pics of the house, dag nabbit? Well, she does have a few pics, but of course she doesn't have them ready for you yet.
On a lark she just looked up a former classmate from her architorture school days and has found out that she is now the happy mother of two wonderful kids. Snarky shouldn't be surprised, as she was one of the bridesmaids at this friend's wedding which took place as soon as they possibly could manage it immediately following graduation.
The W's were an exclusive couple very early into the whole collegiate experience (from Snarky's held-over High School Sweetheart phase, through the embarrassing experimental Rugby moment, all the way to meeting The Mister online). It was almost a given that they were going to be married. They just complemented eachother so thoroughly and well.
Still Snarky can't help but feel a bit of shock. Someone who has been frozen in her mind for the last eight years just got suddenly ultra-fast forwarded to being a Mommy twice over.
The same happened a couple years ago when she got in touch with an old high school roommate who had also gone and had two kids. The shock was a bit lessened by the fact that Snarky knew about Child #1 (though #2 was a complete surprise as they had lost touch by then).
The Snarks are still very much on the fence about this whole child-having thing anyway, but somehow Snarky is feeling like she missed the boat somehow - that she's in a moment of suspended animation just spinning her wheels, not really doing anything.
If she decided not to have children, then surely she must be on some upwardly mobile corporate ladder or carving a bold new niche for some previously undiscovered marketable need. Right? Only... no. Snarky hasn't done that either. Snarky really hasn't done much at all on either the family or career fronts.
Is Snarky a Slacker? If not children and not career... then what will be her legacy?
(According to this week's issue of the local freebie paper, Portland is a city of slackers. Perhaps this is why Snarky feels so attuned to the place.)
First the semi-tragic ordeal of the Kim family, and now the climbers on Mt. Hood.
This has not been a good season for hope.
Snarky finally hit her bummed out wall yesterday early afternoon. She and The Mister had been fairly functioning up until then, completing last minute holiday preparations for their trip Back East, s-l-o-w-l-y cleaning up ChezSnark for the impending white glove inspection from DarkityMa, generally acting as if life was going on without a hitch.
Then yesterday afternoon Snarky fell hard into a funk and didn't really recover until late in the evening. She just could no longer pretend that Everything Was OK.
She's fine now, but this morning The Mister, as he prepared for work, came into the bedroom (in which Snarky was determinedly NOT preparing to work out before work, but rather trying to discover just how much of her could be covered up before suffocation would become an issue) and started to hyperventilate and repeat over and over "I can't go in, I just can't go in, I can't go in there, I just can't go in....".
She took some time off of work to make him some pancakes and get him in bed and talk to him. Assure him that it would be OK eventually, that they were on their way to finding a better path.
And Snarky does believe this, firmly and with a steely resolve she doesn't normally feel for anything in her life (except for the Big Stuff). But she just wishes she could make The Mister believe it as thoroughly as she does right now too.
In the meantime, she continues to do little things for him. Tell him how proud she is of him, all the things she hopes will help him to regain some of what he was before all this stress wore him down.
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!
(Translation: busy work. Snarky has no idea why she suddenly went German.)
(Huzzah! for making it back onto page one, by the way.)
Snarky had the realization at the end of last week that she had turned into an internet taker, rather than a giver. She was reading blogs and posts and doing the general surfing about she could squeeze into her new schedule, but she wasn't making any contributions. Selfish Snarky!
Needless to say, the thing that is worse than de-Garboing oneself is regaining any sense of flow and light-footedness in one's prose.
Referring to oneself in the third person definitely sandbags that whole "light-footed" effort. Still! Snarky shoulders on.
Work is fantastic. Well. Today it isn't. But that's not too horribly bad considering Snarky has been here for sixty days (she should know, her 60 day review is this Friday). Today has been diminished in fantasticness simply because Snarky is a problem solver and her problem was not. Getting. Solved already! Her addiction is more to the sense of accomplishment rather than the journey, and this particular journey was starting to feel like an endless turn on a traffic circle rather than the euphoric A to B that usually measures her day.
"Big Ben!"
"Parliament!"
"Big Ben!"
... you get the picture.
On top of the slightly stuck feeling Snarky is having today, she's also slightly sick. The atmospheric controls for her office don't, so she and her co-workers have been running between the extremes. Some days they keep their jackets on and wrap scarves around their faces. On these days Snarky looks like a technicolor urchin with her turqoise and rainbow arm warmers and slightly haunted expression. Other days the office becomes a sort of greenhouse/sauna. Heavy, humid air hot enough to warrant short-sleeved t-shirts (yesterday one of the supervisors was wearing what amounted to a nice tank top. In November!). All this wishy-washy weather (interior and exterior) has caused the quick dissemination of Seasonal Crud that runs the gamut from tickling cough to full on phlegm attacks.
Snarky has yet to succumb, but today she feels the closest to "unwell" that she has felt since starting work here.
Ah, but the fantastic stuff! It truly is fantastic. Snarky is surrounded by passionate, funny, educated people. The industry is very different from The Cracker Factory. Snarky gets to work with manufacturing types and artistic types and IT types and sales/marketing types. She gets to type really, really fast, and is apparently the heir apparent to the new CRM system they are trying to implement. What does CRM stand for? Hold on... Snarky needs to look it up.
Customer Relationship Management
Of course! Anyways.. what Snarky knows of the CRM is that she is trying to merge four different databases into the one thing... and also train herself up on the new system in order to train everyone else up on the new system... and also customizing and reporting and data crunching and... um... yeah. Just a little bit of everything. If Snarky was the Office Monkey before, she's more like the Office Gorilla now.
Along with all the newness of being in a different work environment working in a completely different industry, Snarky has the added bonus of tests! Product Recognition Tests, that is. She finally managed to pass Test One (correctly identifying 82 samples) after two tries. Next up: Test Two, which requires the mere memorization of about sixty-some-odd pieces. No big whoop. Test Three (and this is the final test) Snarky hopes is under re-configuration... as most of the test is over soon-to-be-discontinued product. Snarky realized, after failing her first go at Test One, that the last written test she had taken prior was for her driver's license. This definitely felt like a return to the days when one's value hinged on the passing of a test (though to be fair, Snarky would not have been fired had she failed the test again... she would have just been stuck in test limbo, having to re-take the test every two weeks until she got it right).
Beside the failing her first test ever part of this experience, Snarky is really enjoying this whole "learn the product" process. She is starting to feel a bit nervous about her performance review on Friday because it has been so long since she geniunely cared about her job that she just might cock it up. (Snarky has been dying to use that term all week. Sorry if it abruptly offended/shocked anyone. Snarky seems to be good about cocking up the flow of things today. Hee!) (From where did that term come anyway? Is it gun related? Or just more blatantly phallic?)
Snarky hopes things go well and that she can remain the resident office monkey gorilla. Bananas are good.
Please forgive Snarky for pointing you in the direction of this article (links to Salon dot com, you'll probably have to click through a day pass to get there).
But. Marble bag?! She had never heard it called that before. Now, "banana hammock" (which really is fun to say out loud) for sure, but "Marble Bag"?
Thus concludes this little bit of summertime fun.
Snarky has to interrupt this regularly scheduled home improvement program to do a little theraputic venting/stream of consciousness whangdoodle:
Givens:
1) Snarky hates moving. HATES it. With a deep, burning, vitriolic passion. She suspects she might be a little OCD about her Stuff being Messed With, even if it is she who is doing the messing.
2) The Mister has been suffering from low-grade depression for as long as Snarky has known him. That would be eight years.
3) The Mister only recently started getting treatment for said depression when it developed into anxiety attacks that affected his work performance and also showed up as heart attack-like symptoms.
4) The Mister had to stop taking his "happy pills" because they gave him a rash.
5) The Mister hates his job. This is probably what pushed his depression into anxiety.
6) The Mister's job is so consuming that he's too busy during the day to do anything "extra-cirricular" and has also had to bring home "homework" that sometimes has him up past midnight (or in one instance, he never came to bed). Therefore, Snarky has been doing all necessary research for the house/move.
7) Snarky really, REALLY hates moving.
8) Snarky wrestles with her own issues of low self-esteem (coupled oddly enough with a raging ego, work that puzzle out) which can create overblown reactions to criticism.
Catalyst:
So today, all those factors came to a head as Snarky tried to secure temporary permits to allow the Snarks to park a fourteen foot moving truck in front of their (essentially, for the purposes of this story) downtown apartment building. It's always the little things that set off the best explosions, no?
This could have just as easily been a week-old stack of unwashed dishes in the kitchen or an odd comment on the appropriateness of a certain pair of pants to a certain type of musical venue. Something trivial and small yet monumental, like dripping water or straws on camels' backs.
Results:
A very terse, very public cellphone conversation in the middle of the engineering department where at points Snarky had to hold the phone away from her ear because The Mister, in his best moods, cannot use an Inside Voice to save his life. As he was at times apoplexic with anger (at Snarky, the world, his employer, again with Snarky, and again with work), fuming with frustration, and exclaming in exasperation, his Outside Voice was just about at Football Stadium Level.
Snarky responded with hushed, angry, trying-to-be-not-"you-statements" speak and had a fun time wrestling her features away from alternating between tears of rage, tears of sadness, tears of fear, and just plain good old fashioned WTF.
Snarky admits she is not blameless in this. She is passive-aggressive, sensitive, and requires much grooming. She's usually pretty much self grooming, but enjoys a fluff every now and again from her paramour. She can be a demanding diva bitch banshee at times, but has been working hard to recognize when those "chocolate and pickles" style impulses present themselves.
This is the rockiest point before it gets smoother. This is the abyss from which, after the dust has settled, they will look back with their arms looped around eachother's waists, and they will say "Whew! That was a close one!" And they will be glad that they had eachother to lean on, rail against, and be pushed through by in order to make it to the Other Side.
They just have to have faith and get there together.
Solution:
Snarky plans on making peace offerings tonight. But for now, she has a job interview for which to prepare, and a slowly rising tide of panic to quell with logic and love.
Unfortunately, the Snarks did not keep a food journal during their five days on the boat. Perhaps it is better that way, as Snarky will not be tempted to calculate the calories consumed (and therefore realize that she will need to climb the equivalent of three Mount Hoods in order to bring her Calories In/Calories Out equation back to equilibrium).
She can recall a few memorable standouts: foie gras souffle (served with fig preserves and a slice of candied citrus rind); deliciously spicy gazpacho that had more than a passing resemblance to a very good, chilled Bloody Mary; so many dishes that should have been served en flambe but weren't, but were still good nevertheless; schooling DarkityBro on the concept of a Baked Alaska (he was deeply shocked that he had not heard of such a thing in all his twenty seven years - this is surely the sign of a die-hard foodie); ordering the Chateaubriand and then annoying The Mister for the rest of the evening by slathering on a heavy, horribly fake French accent; and vienerschnitzel (Which, yes, was made out of veal. Snarky had a long conversation with DarkityBro about foie gras (a recently very hot topic in Chicago, where he lives) and veal. DB has come from a much more radical animal rights POV than the emotional topics of baby animals and force-fed ducks and geese, but organizations like PETA's overzealousness has caused him over the years to consider all sides of the many issues in this debate.)
Oh.. kay. Snarky didn't mean to veer off like that. She'll just wrap up this tangent by saying spending some time with her brother and recently reading Heat by Bill Buford has really caused Snarky to think about just where her food comes from... and how she goes about consuming it.
Having said all that, on to the food pics!
The Orchestrated Big Food Event was the Midnight Buffet. It is such a big deal that they open it up half an hour early just so people can shuffle past and take pictures. Snarky did not stay up to partake (she had, afterall, just stuffed herself on a four course dinner only a few hours before) but DarkityMa reportedly threw down, later swearing that she would never eat that much ever again.
Snarky apologizes for the poor quality of the Midnight Buffet pictures. She could have used a flash, but didn't want to blind the people on the other side of the table...
... such courtesy was not extended to the ship's staff, however, during the Galley Tour. Oh no, Snarky didn't mind at all shoving a camera practically up this poor guy's nose as he tried to carve up a similar melon for the next Midnight Buffet.
DarkityBro, Snarky, and The Mister went to a little wine tasting seminar during the first Day at Sea. This was definitely more for fun (no spit buckets!) but was also educational. DarkityBro gave the Snarks all of his little pieces of cheese that were to accompany the selections. Bonus! (The Snarks still resolutely drink wine out of a box, but can now at least understand what the labels mean on those pretty pretty bottles... sort of.)
The Mister's last dessert. Some sort of (non-animal cruelty) souffle. The woman hiding in the background was the eldest of the group of three women that were seated at the DarkityFam's table for all of our dinners. It was a daughter treating her mother and grandmother to a cruise (the first night was the grandmother's birthday -- we all got cake!) Grandmother is from Peru and speaks little to no English (and reminds Snarky of her own maternal grandmother), mother speaks Peruvian, Spanish, and English (with a heavy accent), and the daughter speaks unaccented English and translated for her mother and grandmother when needed. They were excellent company.
Snarky's last dessert. Why do chefs insist on stacking food? This looked like a crime scene when Snarky was done with it.
After the cruise, the DarkityFam stopped off at a Buddhist/vegetarian restaurant and had plates and plates (and plates) of analogous foods (Peking "Duck", "seafood" stew, roasted "pork", etc.). And since all those eleventeen dishes didn't fill up their newly stretched stomachs (Snarky wonders if her own liver will be ripe for harvesting soon) they also went to the best boba tea place in Houston. At least, according to that one chick they asked. It was pretty good!
Snarky has more to post, but when the Snarks got back to Portland, they discovered another monster zucchini in the garden, so she need to go make about three loaves of chocolate zucchini bread right now.
Snarky was just going to throw out a light, humorous, purple-prose-free post about the miracle of covering things in chocolate (obviously, the good), but she just got a call from the imaging center asking her to come back in for additional views (alarmingly, extremely, horrifically bad).
Based on her mother's occurences of breast cancer (2-3 times, depending on how you look at it), Snarky went in for an early baseline mammogram two days ago. The woman who called was very reassuring about the fact that several women get these "call backs", and that the reasons that are bringing Snarky back in (that have absolutely nothing to do with the glaring C WORD that neither mentioned over the phone) could be overlapped tissue and the fact that the radiologist wants the baseline mammogram to be as accurate as possible.
Still. Snarky can't help feeling the tears crawling up the back of her throat... nor the sense of absolute, blind, shrieking panic just barely restrained by her too-tight, too-cold skin.
Perhaps she should have saved the last chocolate covered Nutter Butter for later.
Eat your heart out, Bellagio!
So the ancient running joke is that Snarky is in possession of two very black thumbs.
The Mister made a habit of gifting her with a potted orchid (of the Lowe's/Home Depot variety) every Valentine's Day, knowing that she would eventually find a way to kill it. One year he gave her a companion cactus thinking that it would outlive the orchid which seemed extremely logical at the time.
Snarky deflated it.
Back in May, some good friends of the Snarks came out to visit. The wife is a master gardener and the husband is the handiest of handymen. They both have done amazing things to their triple wide trailer (and 5 acres of property) nestled in the Appalachians.
The Snarks were able to give them a tour of their soon-to-be house for hints/tips/praise/approval. She did a careful evaluation of the landscaping (somewhat over-exotic for the Snark's taste, but really quite impressive) and even gifted them with a regional resource (which has since been packed and lost, but will be found again, by gum!).
If it weren't for their words of encouragement, Snarky might've considered a scorched earth approach to the existing landscaping. So... they're trying. Most of the bordering landscaping has been weeded (Snarky suspects she "accidentally" took out some "decorative" thistle, but it was annoying and leggy) except for the corner with the roses... which are choking and trying their darndest to continue despite her efforts to destroy them.
She harvested a fistful of lavendar blossoms which are being artfully displayed in one of their many "why did we register for all these?" vases.
They've got a miniature garden (mostly for sammich makin's - tomato and cuke) fighting it out with the clover.
They are doing their best not to destroy what was left to them. Besides the curly willow, which had to go. (Much to the shock of the neighborhood.)
Cross your spades and pointy weeder thingies (Snarky likes to call it "The Probe") for them... pictures of the carnage results soon!
Purely through serendipity, Snarky was directed to the site of one Walt Lockley (link to his site, here's his Wikipedia user bio). She needs to find out more about this man.
She read about the history of the Garden of Allah in Hollywood and thought of Valentina when she read the following passage:
Snarky doesn't even know if anyone else gets excited about things like this (she has only recently been reminded of her own love affair with the built environment), but she just had to share that tidbit.
Some of her distractions are also things from which she wanted to be distracted in the first place, though they tend to fall solidly on the "stess" side of the stress/eustress delineation.
Still, she feels better knowing that her days are filled with deadlines and potential outcomes.
Thanks to the forum, she's got Spring Switch Witch, Year-Long Deco books, and a brewing craft-for-smellies swappathon to distract her from the ongoing house saga (a frothy mix of one part stress to one part eustress mixed together with the swizzle stick of sticker shock) and upcoming followup mammogram.
Mister Snark has been wondefully calm and supportive on both all-consuming, thought and time-stealing topics. She's a bit frightened to find that she is losing her memory of a time without him. Her vaunted (and often cursed) independence harumphs and settles down on the sidelines.
She's layered LUSH's Skinny Dip buttercreme with Faustus to give herself a violet-tinged boost of assertiveness. They will get that house. And she will be healthy, whole, uncorrupted.
Antimony ruminates on the Lloyd Dobbler/Diane Court dichotomy of soul mating.
Snarky has to admit, should the world of couples fall into the strict either/or of Lloyd or Diane archetypes: she aspires to Dianeness (Dianeity?), but is most likely the Lloyd in her relationship with The Mister.
Sure, Snarky is the rightful egghead of the two. Her nerdiness and geekiness are such to elicit hybrid words like gnerd or possibly nee(k) (an homage to Monty Python, which adds a flavor of Dork to the mix as well).
Heck, she even started making notes in dictionaries (her own copies, of course), she was crushing on Diane that hard.
But her yearning for The Mister, even now almost six years into their marriage, is all Lloyd. She feels she needs to be a better woman to be with him. He makes her want to succeed at things she's barely even dreamed about. He didn't take her across the pond, but they did end up on the other side of the country to follow his career. (OK, and it was separate flights so no hand/breath holding, "waiting for the 'ding'" moment for the Snarks.) (Which seriously? Next to the "holding up the boombox" moment? One of Snarky's favorites.)
Currently The Mister has a slight advantage to Snarky on bread winning. Very slight. The care and feeding of the home fires is done jointly (though the laundry-and-dishes part of the kindling often gets neglected). Snarky has taken the reins of the check book and manages most of the financial matters of the house, though The Mister does his Annual Duty of Using His Accounting Degree Once a Year for Taxes.
All in all, Snarky has to say her relationship with The Mister falls into a more stereotypical, "traditional" one (man provide, woman manage)... with leanings toward scale-like equilibrium rather than yin-yang parity.
She is thinking about taking up kickboxing.
Today Snarky is nekkid! Well, in the ol factory sense anyway.
Darkity was going to squee all over the "how are you feeling?" thread, but there's some heavy shozbot going down over there and she didn't want to be the inappropriately gleeful one interrupting the flow of commiseration...
So she'll subject her blog to rampant glee instead.
Because the house? Very almost nearly officially ChezSnark! Darkity and The Mister signed away their lives and handed over The Big Check yesterday. The Sellers had already signed their bit up in Canada, so all that stands between The Snarks and Homeownership now is for the paperwork to record (and the check to go through... Darkity still regrets that her bank does not make their checks proportionately sized to the amounts they represent. She wanted to have a picture of the Ginormous Check Handoff complete with Ginormous Publisher's Clearinghouse style Check.), which is scheduled to happen sometime on Friday.
To add to the glee, some good friends visiting from Back East were dragged to the homesite for One Last Look on Saturday, and the house (and grounds) met with enthusiastic approval. These friends have about two more decades of experience with the world than The Snarks. The husband is the Ultimate Mr. Fixit and the wife is a Master Gardener. They both knew The Snarks' last ChezSnark (in all it's cute, quaint, cramped glory) and are famliar with Darkity's Black Thumb of Doom. So to get their nod of encouragement was... extremely encouraging!
Now The Snarks are dealing with nesting instincts on Overdrive. They found a place that consigns ecclectic furniture. They are addicted to Craigslist. They are gonna have a home!
The Snarks are homeowners!
Snarky = ecstatic, The Mister = Already Thinking...
To commemorate this life-changing event, Snarky is tweaking her blog a bit to include documentation of the ongoing process of turning This Old House into their Home.
Snarky is still planning to keep with the third person format. She will most likely still throw in random fits of writerly aspiration. But the focus has shifted enough to warrant a re-chistening of this blog.
The Snarks are really, truly happy to have gotten through this first major hurdle toward housedom. Unfortunately, their new status started out with a Snakes on a Plane shakedown in the form of a break-in to their new house.
Apparently some bored, only mildly motivated hoodlums noticed the "SOLD" sign in front of the house and the fact that the previous owners had recently vacated. They took advantage of the occupancy lull and crowbarred their way into the empty house. After unsuccessfully attempting to wrench the sink disposal out of the kitchen, it appears they left empty handed. They even left the crowbar behind.
The Snarks are feeling a bit shaken by this. They've had car break ins in the past, but their home? Never. After talking with the neighbors, they feel a bit better. They're a (usually) watchful, mindful bunch.
Besides the obvious changes to the game plan (having the sellers purchase a new side door, installing anti-theft systems) they are now thinking that a Whole Hog style move in (rather than a piece-meal, dribs and drabs approach) would make them feel more secure about their few possessions.
What a way to get started! Nevertheless, The Snarks are determined to make crudites out of cruddy human nature and plan to gather fluff and twigs so that they can fuss and fidget until their nest feels Just Right.
The tenative plan for this weekend is to possibly purchase a nearly-new commercial grade elliptical machine for their gym/entertainment area in the basement. Though this fine piece of machinery is an amazing find on the Craigslist Portland site, it still is pricey enough to cause Snarky to reconsider her gym membership. If they can also find a decent set of free weights for cheap, she will hang up her wee courtesy towel for good and Sweat to the Oldies (or the Emos, or whatever else The Mister has going) at Home.
Snarky is also thinking about taking on the somewhat daunting task of refinishing the hardwood floor in the upstairs master bedroom suite. This might be as little as scruffing up the finish with steel wool and adding two coats of poly... or as much as renting a belt sander, floor buffer, and edger and spending two days stripping, scruffing, and recoating.
Either way, she thinks it will greatly improve the feel of the room and it will also be much less than the bamboo overhaul The Mister has been craving.
And with that bit of good/bad/good, this sleepy new homeowner is going to collapse into bed.
Xena knew something was up the way She was calling to her with that nearly-falsetto voice. She never called to Xena like that unless Something Bad was about to happen. Last time it had been twenty hours in that blasted carrier in the loud growling metal box, Junebug mewling plantively like the little whiny bitch she is. Xena had saved up her displeasure to generate one particularly foul poop that filled that metal box with the smell of her indignation.
Then they had been moved into a larger metal box that roared enough to shake the ground. By that point even Junebug was too terrified to make a noise. They were finally freed by Him into a small, carpeted room. Xena found all her new hiding places within the first few days.
After a while, it seemed perfectly normal to be two cats and two humans in a small carpeted room. There were three windows that opened out to trees and crazy talking people down below. The food stayed good, and the litter box was (mostly) fresh. Xena and Junebug got used to it and began to forget about their ordeal.
And then one day She came back from Outside, talking in that cracking, anxious voice that should have rumbled with impending doom. Xena recalls with horror how She resorted to using half of a wooden paddle to sweep her out from underneath the coffee table. A paddle!
Oh she hissed. She hissed and did that low, lingering growl bourne from sheer panic. She even released her bladder a bit, which only made Her voice go even higher.
Then He got home. He that was usually their saviour. And He stuffed her in the hamper. Traitor.
She was too frazzled to even muster a good protest poop as they rumbled in another metal box. Junebug still found the air to yowl a few good times, and Xena tried to answer back with her own timid "meh-reow?"s.
When the world stopped rumbling and lurching about, they found themselves in a small room that stank of laquer. The windows were too high to reach, and there was a lone lamp on the floor. The litter box was not where it was supposed to be, it was in the corner. There was food, but it tasted of ashes.
Xena nudged the litterbox out of the corner and created another slender hiding space. She stayed there for two days.
Junebug, and Xena is convinced that she might be a little damaged in the head for this, hid in her carrier every time they heard the clomp-squeak noises in the ceiling. Who hides in that place of impending anguish? Only cats who are Not Right in Their Heads, Bless Their Hearts.
Finally on the third day the door cracked open and He released them into... into what? There are too many places. There are windows to look out to trees, there are windows where they can see Them coming and going in their metal box. There are old familar smells behind the doors Xena has already figured out how to open, smells of His feet and Her perfume piled up and hung down like layers of comforting curtains in the dark. There are new smells and strange, smaller metal boxes. There don't seem to be other cats in these boxes, but They seem to spend a lot of time cooing at them anyway.
He has been gone for a few days. She seems to be quieter, less active because of it. She is giving lots of belly rubs, though, so Xena thinks it will all be OK. If not now, then soon.
She is still keeping an eye out for the carrier though, and a cautious ear for any change in register in Her voice.
Last week's surprise winter weather has given way to premature spring-like conditions.
And like a tender crocus bud, Snarky finds her own femininity peeking out from all the protective layers of winter accumulation. Last night she trimmed back the talons and attended to her toes. Tonight she hopes to complete the rest of her home mani/pedi progression (Snarky is slow and less flexible than she once was. It takes at least two days to finish these simple tasks.) and this weekend might be the Wacky Waxing Weekend if she can get her gumption up.
This seems to be the prevailing mood on Blog Island. A mood of rejuvenation and re-introduction to one's inner girlie-girl. Snarky has lost track of what this particular movement happens to be... is it post-post-modern feminism, or meta-feminism, or retro-something-or-other?
Ah well. Whatever it is, it makes typing on the keyboard much easier.
Edited to add: while ChezSnark is still slightly under the pall of the Monster Cold of Ought Six Slash Seven, Snarky has finally started to wear her BPAL again. Banner day!
Snarky's feeling very torn today.
The house inspection was mostly good, with a few somewhat glaring Need-to-Fix-Before-Moving-In issues (leaky faucets, bad wiring).
She and The Mister have been left to marinate in the juices of an extremely thorough inspection report and whatever else that $1000 got them until Thursday evening, when they will meet with their agent to discuss any addendums to their offer.
Since another offer for $20,000 more is waiting in the wings, odds are the sellers will simply back out of the deal and move on to the next fish. Snarky is working hard to be OK with this, even though she's spent the last week mentally placing furniture and having Special Moments in every nook and cranny of this house.
She took over seventy pictures of the place during the inspection, for goodness sakes.
On the upside, her boobies have been deemed perfectly healthy (if maybe just a wee bit lopsided) and she is fairly confident that her lovely "modesty mole"'s (by which she used to determine the level of raciness of various necklines) biopsy will also come back clean.
Snarky was going to extoll the benefits of an anxiety based weight loss plan... but she just succumbed to the siren call of chocolate chip cookies, so apparently that point is not only moot, but revoked.
