make it rain.

things i COULD do today checklist:
haircut
remove sleeves from shirts
wind bobbins
repaint toenails
cut handnails
start cable blanket sampler
start the color work on grape cross stitch
thaw those steaks in the freezer and make something
sew some scarves
drink

junk in der trunk.

about a year ago i threw an entire trash bag of cast off clothes that we didn't want (and i was going to donate - but i never seem to make it to that point) in the trunk of my car.

there is some great stuff in there, i am realizing. i went through a phase where i was buying boy's button up preppy collared shirts, so those are in there and there is an absolute JACKPOT in shirt material from phill's closet.
and should i even mention that cast off khaki pant material would probably make a pretty decent cross stitch canvas?
also, those shirts i mentioned would be mighty fine if i hacked the sleeves off and made some neck ruffles... which i don't have much practice doing - but what the hell.

so, on this day i am calling Danny Day (due to the extra-tropical depression passing to our right), i am going to now go harvest my trunk before the skies REALLY open up.

cross stitching... bitching...

i brought my latest to snb tonight, a cross stitch to do with grapes.

in other news, we watched death race.
the line of the movie? "fuck with me and we'll see who shits on the sidewalk."
i don't even know what that means. but i like it.

Box Collector.

Dear god.

We are to be packed and out in the next few weeks. This is all great, going to go smooth as glass. Until the slight snag that is - where in the hell are we going to stack these boxes?

We'll be packing the day we leave.

This week is flying by.
Gotta go. 2 out in the 9th, Sox v. Yanks.

3 Months? Really?

I never was diligent about writing in any sort of diary... mainly because my mother would find anything personal that I ever wrote and would decide to write her own poem about it - which was all pretty funny in hind sight considering that she would find things like a lovely 5 pager I did when I was 16 about how to seduce a 30 year old man.

So if I can't even commit to regularly writing in a paper diary that isn't smeared all over the webernet for international ocular pleasure, why would anyone seriously expect me to keep up with this?

Well, for the benefit of my waning reader population (outside of the Guam territory - where my following is apparently HUGE), here is a rundown of the last 3 months (in no particular order):

I somehow managed to pass my math class with a B. This is monumental considering I haven't gotten above a D since third grade, which coincidentally was when I was told that I "would never be good at math" by my teacher. I suppose they could get away with that in 1985.

I put all of my paintings, except two, out on the sidewalk in front of our house for anyone to take. 12 in all, at the end of the day, they were gone. I gained a 12 foot high, 8 foot wide space. And some people got some warped canvases.

I'm growing my hair out again. Whoopy ding.

And now, I truncate. I got a Kindle, 86ed the fake nails, bought a condo, planted some impatients, started painting again, picked back up with bridge, bought some golf clubs (which I have been using to hit balls into neighbors cars). Sigh, there's some other shit.

Also, I have been finding that my mom could now care less about how many tattoos I put on my body. Just to think that 10 years ago she went on a food strike when I got my first one. So what's next? I think I am a couple years away from a cheese tattoo, but closer to something to do with bridge. It's been almost 10 years that I have been playing.

We are moving out at the end of June, into the new condo (which is a spit away from where we are now). At that point I will be getting my desk together so I can actually sit and write. So maybe, just maybe, it won't be 3 more months until my next post.

Toss Up

I'm on the hunt. I think I have narrowed it down to a couple of gyms. I almost hit the go button on one tonight, but I held back. I am waiting for my friend to decide what kind of environment she wants to be in. Why do I care so much, well, she is going to be turning me into a ripped machine and I feel that I owe it to her to find a suitable factory.

Cara and I met somewhere around 1991 in Milford, MA. I skated in Leominster, but made the move to a club in Milford because I was partnered up with this dude. More on him later...
Of course we were all in shape, no one really wears that little spandex if otherwise, but I wouldn't call your average skater jacked. Well, back then, she was not jacked. She was kind of like the Kate Moss of the rink. Somewhere between the late 90s and now, she is in a word, inspiring.

I forget how I ran into her on Facebook, but we got to talking and one thing led to another. And now I am doing a sort of pageant search for a gym.

Here are the choices:
Method
Bally
Gold's
Planet Fitness

We'll see what we come up with out of those. For now, I keep up with my super-ridiculous protein & fluids noshing and intermediate sculpting.
Holy crap, guys.

Goody.

New tattoo tomorrow.
Lance Armstrong & Floyd Landis are back for the Tour de California.

Hee hee.
I bought one of these today. Then I steamed everything.
The water was black.
It was VERY satisfying.