Why am I surprised that I already have a category for that?

Wheeeee! What else can I do to procrastinate on Christmas Cheer? I know, I'll blog something!

I have printed out one million recipes and have to go through and make lists of what absolutely has to get made, what will have to wait for later, and what will be tossed altogether on account of being too fussy.

And blah blah blah, I know I will feel so much better if I Just Get Started. I hate this aspect of myself. This is what I always do when I feel overwhelmed by too many things on my list: wait until the last minute. Then it doesn't matter if the cookies (or the take-home exam, in a past life, or the student loan paperwork, or the house chores) aren't done absolutely perfectly--it simply matters that they get done.

Work continues to be dysfunctional, full of petty hurts and whispered conversations and other paper cuts, and yet: me working, just part-time, not for any major bucks, has rather transformed our marriage. It's kind of freaky, and it makes me cling to the job that much harder despite the psychodrama. But nowadays, when we both come home more nights than not exhausted and brain-dead, for some reason, we get along so much better--so much so that if it comes down to it and I find myself having to find some other not-law job, I will do it, in a heartbeat.

Or maybe I will start doing the schmoozing, volunteering, mass resume mailing, and other things one has to do to get networked in the legal community here. That's the real answer. I keep waiting for my dream job to land in my lap and that's not going to happen without legwork on my part. Well, it's more head-work than anything else: getting over the last several years, or if not getting over 'em, getting to a point where I can discuss my "career," such as it is, without needing to cry afterward (or during).

Arrgh. But! I can procrastinate on Career Crap by NOT procrastinating on Christmas Cra--er, y'know, Cheer, Christmas Cheer. Well then! Off to deal with my kitchen!

Stuff it

[Ed. note: Thanks to Swistle for the encouragement that got me back here.]

I am in a bit of a tailspin about several things, some more serious than others.

-A friend got me a part-time temporary gig doing reception. It has done me a world of good to spend more time out of the house and to earn a bit of pocket money. However, the adjustment was a lot harder than I thought it would be, and it remains surprisingly stressful. Spouse was overjoyed when I began coming home in a zombie-like state, frequently holding out a bag of fast food ("Chicken fingerrrrrrs!"), because it drives him nuts when he comes home exhausted and I'm all boingy and hyper and eager to talk to a person instead of the radio.

-A few months ago I joined the local Unitarian Universalist church, which has been really great. Through there I got to be friends with a bunch of people who are into paganism, a religion I was sort of interested in. I have since figured out that paganism, at least in the community I fell into, involves a shit-ton of attendant drama, not to mention stigma in the wider world, and for me it's just not worth it. I am trying to figure out how to continue to spend time with the folks I really like, without roping myself into a potluck dinner every other week, without endangering my employability, and without feeling bad for lacking props and costumes.

-I have no idea what I'm supposed to do with my law degree. I came across a ten-question quiz in a book I was reading about alternative careers for lawyers. Those answering even one question in the affirmative are advised to "seriously reconsider using your degree to actually practice law." I answered EVERY SINGLE QUESTION in the affirmative. Ordinarily I'd go off on this at length but I spent most of the weekend crying about it. Besides:

-It's freaking Thanksgiving! Tomorrow after work I will do a major shopping run and buy baking potatoes, trimmings for said potatoes, "stuff for salad," and whatever I need for whatever Bundt cake I decide to make for Dad's birthday. My brother will be doing steaks. That will be Wednesday night.

In preparation for Thursday, I will also get stuffing stuff, and if I get really crazy, cornbread stuff, since I actually have the requisite skillet now.

We still have to decide whether to go to my mom's house or to his sister's house. Both families know that I agonize about this every year, and have told us not to worry if we can't make it to both.

Hearing that, Spouse suggested we get takeout Peking duck and eat at our house, by ourselves, with neither family being the wiser. I'm seriously considering it.

technical difficulties, some with sub-parts

Various problemos of the last little while:

1. Sunday afternoon, Monday evening, and this morning have all featured a special guest appearance by...a roach. (Not the same one, mind you, unless reincarnation works incredibly quickly. Yeeesh.) This wouldn't be that big a deal except a) it freaks Spouse the heck out, b) the bug guy just came for his quarterly visit three weeks ago, and c) it necessitates major housecleaning.

2. In dermatological news, Spouse had an actual scary infection on his chest, where he'd had a mole removed. He seems to be on the mend and has a follow-up Wednesday. I went in yesterday and had two thingies removed, one big bumpy mole I've had my whole life, and a weird bump on the top of my left foot. I was very careful not to watch, and couldn't feel anything because I was nicely numbed, but the foot thing seemed to require some serious, uh, yanking. Both thingies are on their way to a lab to be tested; I'm actually not worried about it, but who knows.

3. Our money situation suddenly became Not a Crisis, But Not Good Either. I never heard anything from the Other Public Defender Office, and it especially sucks for that reason. I seriously have no idea what I'm supposed to be doing, career-wise, but we're at the point where I need to expand my search beyond lawyer jobs. Not to fast food necessarily, but to something.

4. Under the heading of getting involved in social stuff, I ramped up my involvement in a couple of things and have said yes to too much. I've gone from having a really open schedule and very few responsibilities to what feels like Way Too Much, and it's freaking me out. One of the responsibilities involves actual legal research and I can't get into the program my state bar membership is supposed to buy me (and that's freaking me out). All this will ease up in a huge way after Saturday, though.

But there are happy things, too: I've lost 20 pounds over the last 6 months; Father's Day was really good; Saturday I had a very nice dinner out with Mom and my grandmother (during which I got slightly buzzed, remarking "Man, I need to drink wine more often, because I feel a heck of a lot better than I did this afternoon!"); and Spouse and I are getting along pretty darned well considering all of the above. As always I have tons to be grateful for. I am working hard at focusing on positive stuff, and on looking ahead as opposed to looking back. And when I remember to do it, it really helps a lot.

The Holy Grail of Pink and Cute

Okay, this entry is all happy stuff! No sad trombones or horrible shootings here! [Ed. note: Bring A. Torch had another job interview, at another public defender office, a couple weeks ago. She hasn't heard anything yet and is about to jump out of her skin. Please bear with her as she tries valiantly to cheer herself up.]

Spouse has been admirably sweet, and has given me three celebrity-related compliments lately. Let's review!

• The first: After I got my hair done, in a bob that is pretty close to how I've always wanted it, he said approvingly, "You remind me of Charlize Theron in...something, I can't remember what," which turned out to be Aeon Flux.
• The second: He and I were in our computer cave, him WOW-ing and me playing cheesy Flash games catching up on The Economist. I was streaming audio from an awesome alternative station and "Stupid Girl" by Garbage came on. I said, "Hey, I bet you'd like this band. They're kinda techno." That got no response, but this did: "They're fronted by this really hot redhead." Spouse requested evidence. After viewing the image search results: "You're way cuter."
• The third was when I was comparing myself to mega-mommybloggers, when I am not a mommy and barely even a blogger making droll observations about current events: He called me "Dave Barry in a skirt." I was floored. I still can't believe he said that.

Last weekend I had me a project: putting together a care package, with the theme of PINK! and CUTE! This included a trip to Tuesday Morning, which is like Ross or T.J. Maxx, but primarily housewares as opposed to clothes. The pickings there can be excellent, rotten, or just plain bizarre. (I actually almost bought that thing for a mom friend, but something told me to test it, and Grover popped out looking mournful and like he might be about to hurl some Super chunks.) Frequently you find something that would be ideal for So-and-So, except there's a button missing, or a suspicious-looking stain, or the box looks like it's been run over by a truck. So it was completely amazing that right when my legs reminded me I'd been standing for too long, when I was desperately pawing through the stuffed animals, I found the Holy Grail of Pink and Cute: a Hello Kitty! I was bouncing off the walls when I got home. (Spouse: "Okay, you're DONE shopping now, right?")

I got so into it, I even did up the box--I cut out a star, a heart, and a kitty face out of shiny pink paper (75 cents, people!), and just covered the edges of everything with clear packing tape. (Kitty face = 2 up-pointing triangles for ears, 3 down-pointing ones for eyes and a nose, and then 6 long pointy whiskers. Spouse assured me that it was recognizably feline. I'm kicking myself for not having taken a picture, as it really turned out cool. (Too frequently my attempts at anything resembling home repair or craftiness involve frustrating results for whatever the project is, and first aid for me.) Even better, I checked today and saw the package made it there in 4 days, when the postal worker warned me it'd take 2 weeks. That made me happy.

This weekend's project was painting two coffee cans, so I can plant stuff in 'em. It has been really hard to spread the acrylic out evenly while still providing good coverage, but that may have something to do with the cheapass foam brushes I bought. I hope I have enough paint to finish up, as the expenditures are rapidly approaching what I would've spent just buying two flippin' more little pots. But they're bright blue and cheery and look surprisingly okay so far. HANDY SAFETY TIP: Carefully inspect the lip of each can for pointy spots before poking around inside; one of mine bit me when I was washing it out! Spouse did something with pliers to make it safe, and was also responsible for poking drainage holes, as I am not allowed to play with sharp objects while he's around.

And it was still hot

This is a blog made by the people responsible for the film of Where the Wild Things Are, that I found when Juniper and Gram's dad linked to it. And here is an absolute gem of a video of President Obama reading the book to a crowd, with his family looking on.

Let me repeat that: The President of the United States, a black man, is shown reading from a beloved, subversive children's book, written and illustrated by a gay man, on what I assume is the White House lawn. This is amazing to me.

Sometime during the 1992 campaign, there was a poll asking who folks would rather have watch their kids, George H. W. Bush or Bill Clinton. Then-Governor Clinton won by a healthy margin, if I recall correctly. I was reminded of that poll watching the President read with obvious facility, peering at the upside-down words from above, making faces and growls where called for with no hesitation at all. In other words: he has read this book to the girls, a LOT.

This to me is more comforting than a pot of tea and a plate of gingersnaps.

I did not get the public defender job. And I sulked about it for weeks.

On to new topics! Ahem! I've been wanting to try growing herbs for ages. I would like to cook more with fresh herbs but I hate buying them at the grocery store. So this is what I did: I went to our local college library, which amazingly I am allowed to borrow from since we gave a little bit to Spouse's alumni association, and picked out my limit of 5 books. And then I went online and found 6 books from all over the state, which came in via interlibrary loan.

Now, garden writers are absolutely charming. I need to do some choice quotes next time I'm about. However, the problem with eleven different gardening books [and two University Extension Services, and Martha Stewart's web stuff] is that you end up with umpteen different voices squawking about, say, Greek vs. Italian oregano. Certainly there is some overlap, but there are just enough differences in the advice from source to source to drive me up the freaking wall. I am one of those people plagued by the notion that there is a "right" way to do everything. I even take it further and believe there is probably a "best" way to do everything, and I feel like a failure if I don't do it that way the first time.

And by the time I finally decided that yes, I did want to start with teeny little seeds and babysit them into great big plants, it hadn't yet sunk in how LOOOOONG all this was going to take. Little sprouts might pop up right away for most herbs, but as far as actual plants you could transfer to your garden, or to pots in my case, it can take 7-10 WEEKS. Our development is beautifully manicured--more than I would have ever expected for a bunch of townhouses--and our little fenced-in area is covered in mulch, so I am, as they say, pot-bound.

Anyway, I have probably waited too long to get started, such that by the time I have anything big enough to put in a real pot, it will be so hot and humid that the little guys would fizzle and croak outdoors. Which would be okay, I guess, because some herbs can do just fine indoors. The issue is just how much bigger and bushier they would be if they grew outside (see also: in the ground, vs. in a pot). We have a petunia that has been a houseplant since I brought it home, and it's more than just technically alive--in fact, it's really perked up lately, with lots of magenta blooms--but compared to the ones I saw outside at Lowe's on Saturday, it looks utterly peaked.

So I'll try it and see what happens. I do have a couple seed packets to order (one from Monticello, as in Thomas Jefferson, holy cow), and if shipping isn't too exorbitant, I may be ordering one plant since I haven't been able to find seeds. But as far as basil, oregano, etc., I'm good to get started.

The news around here is I'm not currently worrying about the job thing, because I have something else to fret about instead: Spouse is seriously sick. As soon as we had any information, I went straight to Dr. Google and instantly wished I hadn't, because I've been scared out of my mind since. He's undergone testing and should see a specialist this week. Much as I want to know what it really is, I'm a little afraid to know as well. If you happen to be into prayer, lighting candles, Reiki, or whatever, it would be much appreciated. I know in my heart that ultimately he'll be fine; I just need to convince my head of that and not panic.

Pants panic

I am having a cow over here.

This morning I was out and about at a ridiculously early hour because I gave someone a ride to work, trying to be helpful. I ended up right by Wal-Mart and was pleasantly wandering about their gardening stuff when Spouse called.

"I fucked up," he said. Well, not too badly: He sent a pen through the washer, and then through the dryer. "All my clothes are ruined," he said. Well, not really.

He made it to work anyway. I surveyed the damage when I got home and it really wasn't that bad. To get at the ink, I started attacking the dryer with all kinds of chemicals. Unfortunately for fire safety, almost everything recommended to work on ink is highly flammable, so the first thing I had to do was unplug the thing.

Hairspray was on the list and seemed to be making the most progress. The first ingredient in hairspray is denatured alcohol, which we happen to have, because the fondue pot that we have yet to use needs it for fuel. Denatured alcohol has all kinds of scary warnings on it, and is a pain in the ass to open, and Lord knows how many brain cells I lost to its powerful fumes, but the stains are now faded such that you'd only see them if you stuck a flashlight in there.

Alas, I have the feeling that is exactly what's going to happen, because I pushed the drum in the wrong direction when I was trying to get at the ink, and it emitted this horrible crunching sound. After a break for ventilation (read: eating cookies and reading David Sedaris), I plugged the dryer back in and hit the button. It heated up but did not spin around. Oh crap.

I think I fucked up worse than Spouse, but he says it's arguable. In lawyerspeak, the actual cause of the dryer not spinning was me pushing it around in ways it did not want to be pushed, but the proximate cause was Spouse leaving the danged pen in his pants pocket.

This is causing a panic for two reasons. The not-so-big-a-deal panic is because Spouse's preferred pants suffered casualties, which means shopping has to happen, and neither of us is a cheerful shopper when it comes to clothes. The full-bore, Oh-My-Golly, sound-the-alarm panic is because the house is a wreck and needs some serious sanitation before the landlord can be called and her handyguy can be dispatched.

Oh, and tomorrow morning I am supposed to leave at oh-dark-thirty so I can make it to Megalopolis for mandatory how-to-be-a-lawyer training, which only the unemployed have to pay for and participate in, and it just makes me really mad. And sad.

I have not heard back about the job I interviewed for, and I strongly suspect that this is what I am really panicking about. That and driving in downtown Megalopolis. Not so much the poor dryer.