How lucky am I?

Well, this week has been crazy. Over the weekend, our handyman L. finished removing the SCALLOP SHELL circa 1989 wallpaper from our master bathroom. The same wallpaper the builders slapped up without sizing or even painting the walls first. Oh joy. Even though I was in Las Vegas over the weekend, I could hear poor L. cursing over the “ding ding clunk clunk” of the slot machines and impassioned cries of “come on shooter!”. However, he did a great job and it looks fabulous. The downside is, he didn't finish until Monday afternoon and left the room in shambles. It has taken me most of the week to get it all back in order. To make things extra, super fun, I am suspecting he splashed some water/wallpaper removal stuff into the wall outlet because it doesn't WORK now and neither does the other bathroom upstairs. I have tried to reset all the circuit breaker thingies and have reset every GFI in the house but to no avail. To add to all the gaiety, the previous owner labeled well over half the circuit breakers “lightings & outlets”. Gee, thanks Mr. Usually Anal Retentive. I guess I was getting spoiled. Sigh. So now I have to deal with an electrician, but if I am going to call an electrician, then I should just go ahead while he's there and have him put in all the new fixtures for the dining room, the hallway, and the downstairs bathroom. The fixtures that I haven't bought as of yet. Now, I am not complaining because 1) L. does a great job painting and is very inexpensive and 2) how lucky am I to get to choose new fixtures (which I think is fun to do). So, while I am not grumbling per se, I am a little pushed for time. It didn't help that the engine light on the car came on yesterday so I had to deal with that. Did I mention that the Husband has been conveniently gone the entire week?

Oh, and the answer to the subject line is “very”. I certainly haven’t lost sight of how fortunate I really am.

Knitting Continental or English? Knit picking from a nitpicker

I am crazy about knitting. For years, I had wanted to learn how and I finally took some classes earlier this year. I thought I would be so cool learning how to knit. Imagine my extreme disappointment when I realized everyone else was on the knitting bandwagon – story of my life, always the sheep and never, ever the trendsetter. Regardless, I was hooked from the start! (and yes, that would be a pun if I was crocheting. But I’m not. So there.) Anyway, I am now the Imelda Marcos of scarves. Yes, scarves are the knitting equivalent of kindergarten, but I was traveling a lot and they are easily stuffed into a suitcase. For the most part, knitting is very relaxing – interspersed with tense moments after mistakes are made. The sense of accomplishment when those mistakes are fixed is well worth the hassle (and at times, tears. Big ones. The kind that roll down your cheek). If I don’t knit for a few days, I start to crave it. My favorite sort of evening is to hang out with The Husband and knit while we watch TV (oh, how long I have come from college. But that’s another post. Entirely. ). Anyway, knitting has saved me from going loopy with boredom in airports (okay, now that’s a valid knitting pun for you) and it has significantly reduced my anxiety from many a canceled or delayed flight. As long as I am knitting, I am in a Zen-like zone and feel very peaceful – instead of counting breaths, I count stitches. It’s all good, yo (another knitting pun for you).

With all this serenity surrounding the Zen of knitting, imagine my surprise then when I discovered a major source of discord in knitting circles – knitting continental-style vs. English-style. When you knit English, you are “throwing” the yarn and when you knit continental you are “picking” the yarn. Most Americans knit English – in fact, it seems most of the world knits English. I even started out knitting English because I didn’t realize there was more than one method. I switched teams when I discovered a classmate knitting continental and noticed she finished the project WITHIN the class itself. The rest of us had to take the project home to finish because we ran out of time. I realized then that my classmate was onto something and vowed to learn how she did it. After some research, I found out how to knit continental and I never looked back.

What has amazed me the most is how passionate people can get about their preferred method – chicks with sticks can be dangerous (yeah, maybe they are blunt sticks made out of bamboo. But still.). When my classmate was knitting continental, the teacher (an older, Grandma Knitter) insisted she was doing it “wrong” and it was obvious the classmate was upset, in particular because as she put it “my mother taught me this way and it worked for HER” (I should note this line was delivered rather curtly). Ouch. I didn’t blame her though, the teacher was slightly irritating.

Overall, I don’t understand the cause for such emotion and argument. Knitting is supposed to be the equivalent of productive meditation. This, coincidently, is much easier to accomplish when knitting continental. English BAAAD. Continental GOOOOD. Ha!

Politicking or polikitty-ing?

For those of you that don’t own cats, it may come as a shock to learn that cats are very complex creatures. Indeed, they need infinitely more affection and attention than their stereotype indicates and their social order is better than many finely crafted governments. The current feline campaign being waged in my backyard makes the Bush/Kerry rumble appear to be as complicated as a game of Go Fish. You see, the previous owners of our house never had cats. It seems a neighborhood cat had already claimed our yard as “his” before I had the nerve to move in with my own little fur balls. Now, at all hours, we hear various screeching and growling as the neighborhood cat tries to exert his ownership on my amply taxed piece of grass. It’s disconcerting to go out on the deck and hear two cats growling at each other underneath my feet. It’s disturbing to see my burly black cat H. reduced to a whimpering mass of fuzz. It’s alarming that when I go out in the front yard to chase the neighborhood cat away, he runs into MY back yard to seek refuge from ME. I am not sure what to do, because H. is not an inside cat – he would tear the place apart if kept locked in. I just hope they all come to terms with each other soon. Sigh.

This has been a very blah week - Big Al has had a constant aura of suspicion and deceit. I am going to Vegas this weekend – surely the Land of Lady Luck will provide some sort of interesting post for next week.

Where is home anyway?

This weekend, I finally felt that I was closer to getting home. Yeah, yeah, le Manse du Chat is infinitely better than the old one – we now have better neighbors, a bigger house, a nicer yard. The list goes on. However, the new house isn’t quite HOME yet. It’s certainly getting there and this weekend was a breakthrough. I am in a Canasta group (codename: Clandestine Canasta. Shhh!! Don’t tell!). I hosted the group this past weekend and I believe there was something about having my friends spend time with me in the house that helped to “christen” it. Until then, it had mainly been the Husband and I fumbling our way through boxes just trying to get through our hectic days. Saturday night with the Canasta gals allowed me to really wind down and just BE in the house. It was nice and is giving me hope that I will start to feel comfortable again.

Boss Fired, Part Two: Yeah, my manager was officially let go. The whole thing was very weird and creepy. I probably shouldn’t say more for fear Big Al will track me down like the guilty blogger I am. We are on the 20th floor (the highest floor in the building) and have always been the Outcast Gang. Is it any coincidence that it feels more and more like Flowers in the Attic up here? Sigh.

Where is he?????

My manager has disappeared. His office light is on, his bag is there, and his Blackberry is in its cradle with his laptop in the docking station. We have heard neither hide nor hair of him since TUESDAY and Big Al is acting like my manager doesn’t exist anymore. No word regarding him – not one single word. Nada. Huh??? He can’t be fired, because his stuff is in his office. I know he is alive and not injured because he took some tools out of my garage (refer to previous post where I had just purchased his house – he is still storing some things there. Of course, I can’t call him because "they" took his cell phone and his home phone is still turned on at MY current home (the irony of THAT is not lost on me either)). In all their wisdom, the management here has successfully created an environment filled with gossip, innuendo, suspicion and paranoia. Thanks!

Friday Afternoon Update: Our AVP just held a meeting to let us know that our manager is gone. Gee, thanks! didn't notice. I guess that's why SHE is the AVP and I am just a peon.