Invasion of the Body Snatcher

My body is no longer mine. I suppose I haven't been stripped of it entirely, but am simply sharing it. The needs of the tiny proto-person I'm sharing it with, however, take precedence over my own wants. Andrew has taken to hovering in the background whenever I'm eating, asking if whatever it is I'm having is okay. I can't complain too much, though. He's always taken care of me, but now he won't let me lift a finger for anything. It's odd though, to think that everything I'm doing is affecting my unborn child. I've always been the sort of person who reacts poorly to being told I can't do something, especially if it's for my own good. I would love nothing more than to have a big block of feta cheese crumbled over a salad as a side dish to a nice plate of sushi, all washed down with a pint of hard cider, or even just a glass of iced tea, perhaps both. I now I can still have plenty of things I enjoy, but at the moment I'm focused on what I can't have. It's like I'm on a nine month diet from hell.
My mother has also gone crazy over this child, in a much better way than expected. We went to the beach together yesterday, just the two of us. There was no arguing and minimal eye rolling. She's already talking about babysitting next year while we're both working and at school. Today she told me she's ordering me a book about keeping a natural home for the baby, since I've become a bit of a hippie in that respect. She's also been sympathetic, since Dr. Killjoy, as she calls him, has basically put her on the same diet I'm having to keep to, though presumably without all the folic acid.
Andrew just called, he's finally on his way home. He's doing sound design for the show that's going on at school, so he's been putting in long hours. He's kindly agreed to bring me a strawberry milkshake because "the baby wants one." I think this kid and I, if we can work together, have a great future ahead of us.

Preservation

We have a Valley lemon tree in the backyard. (That's Meyer lemons to everyone else in the world.) There is a lot of fruit on the tree, and some of it is already starting to ripen. This tree is one of my favorite things about this house. I love lemons and limes to an extreme degree, just ask my dentist. I especially love Valley lemons. They are large, with a smooth creamy yellow skin that is easy to peel. I vividly remember grabbing one from the veggie drawer of the refridgerator in our old house, this is the fridge that Mom and I had covered in cow print contact paper because it was rusting and ugly. I peeled it, thinking it was an orange that hadn't gotten all its color. It was sour, but a smooth sour, with just a hint of sweetness behind it. That's when I knew what true love felt like. So, of course I was a very happy girl when I found five of them on the kitchen table the other day. I squeezed one into a glass, intending to mix it with iced tea. While waiting for the tea to brew, I drank the juice straight. Whoops. It was only supposed to be a taste, but it went too far.
Finally, with lemony tea in hand, I contemplated the remaining lemons. For reasons unknown to neither me nor my parents, the ends of a few of the lemons had already begun to rot. Something had to be done. That's when I remembered the recipe I had seen for preserved lemons on Stuttercut.org. We aren't talking lemon preserves here, all glossy smooth and sweet. No, these are preserved lemons made by tossing lemon quarters with salt, layering them in a jar with some more salt, and then covering the whole mess with more lemon juice. Considering the fact that I had just eaten two of the lemons with a hearty sprinkling of salt, I knew what had to be done.
For some reason, Mom has a couple of cases of little canning jars just sitting around. These aren't the full on big ones, but small cute ones. The lids are white and have strawberries on them. But why does she have them? Mom always has a couple of projects in the wings. That's where I get it from. I feel odd if I don't have two or three things that need doing. I think the feeling is called sanity. At some point, Mom had decided that she really liked sweet jalapeno relish and would someday make her own, hence the jars. I'm not sure that project ever really took off, hence the completely unopened box of jars that I am not allowed to get rid of, because she's retired now. Truly these are the years of put up or shut up with my Mom. We'll see how many of the projects she has been talking about doing once she "has time" actually get done.
I snagged one of the jars, quartered the remaining lemons, carefully slicing away the rotted bits, and taking judicious taste tests to ensure what was left was edible. They were tossed with salt, and packed in and covered with more juice. I've been shaking the jar everyday, as per the recipe. Soon I'll have to come up with something to do with them beyond "open jar, eat." I can't wait for the rest of the tree to ripen. Truly, these are exciting, lemony, times.

Subtle

Last night I dreamt that I was watching myself try to fit my mouth around my notebooks and textbooks for my classes. It wasn't working very well. As I was watching myself in the dream I wondered if perhaps I really have bitten off more than I can chew. Then I wondered whatever happened to dreams that required actual interpretation. I keep telling myself that it was just a dream, and that I can do this. Sometimes it's all to easy to have doubts about that, but I haven't fallen down yet. So, it was just a dream, like any other anxiety dream. And like the dream that followed it, wherein a ginormous rattlesnake fell out of my airconditioner vent, it's not real. I may be fighting the urge to seal off my ac vent, but it wasn't real.

Huh...

Tonight my "voice" was compared, favorably even, to Harper Lee's in To Kill a Mockingbird. I think that is the most kick ass thing I have heard in a long time. I wish I had more to say, but at this point my brain is quickly powering down. Sadly, I can't write, but must read before all neural function ceases. Not that I'm in a silly mood or anything.

Cake

There is currently a six pound, ten ounce buttercream frosted chocolate cake on our kitchen table. Apparently, we're celebrating Mom's birthday again. I believe what really happened is that Dad was taken in by the cake while at Sam's this morning. "It's bigger and cheaper than the ones at HEB" was his completely rational answer to my question of "What's with the cake?" As the lolcats would say, the origins of my issues, let me show you them. Mom interrupted the cake conversation to ask if I wanted her to join the gym with me. The me plus other people plus the gym conversation is one we've been through over and over again. I hate people watching me while I work out. I don't care if they're actually watching me, because in my mind being in the same room is enough. They probably saw me at some point, and therefore they are watching me. Only replace the word watching with judging. If there's anything I hate more than people seeing me at the gym, it's having someone try to talk to me while I'm trying to do my thing as quickly and as solitarily as possible. My mother can't resist talking to me. Every trip will be a chat session. I told I don't mind her going at all, but that I am definitely not looking for a workout buddy. Again, this is a converrsation we've had. We'll see what happens.
In other news, we are sans tv at the moment. We're switching between satellite providers, and unfortunately the new one won't be able to install for four more days. It's not been too bad. I've been working on homework anyway. It's also a sort of thing. Amazingly, with all the studying I've been doing, words are failing me. At the end of my tv-free time, I will return with things better than ever. We're getting dvr. Oh yes. I will once more be able to pause and record tv. Joy. This means I am no longer an actual slave to my tv. In the meantime, we've been re-watching Firefly. I wish there was more. But, since there isn't, I'm off to continue on homework until it's time for HFS.

Crunch

School is going well. Everytime I start to feel less than adequate a professor will be excited by something I've said, or I get a paper back with marks far better than I was expecting. I havent' missed any deadlines, and I am actually working ahead on things. I still feel crunched, though. I am crumpled. I feel like the paper wrapper on a straw that has been completely compressed around the straw's bottom. I have all of this straw stretching out before me, but, for some crazy ass reason, I am scrunched down into near nothingness.
Andrew is, as always, incredibly supportive. So are my friends. Sadly, I'm not seeing everyone so much as I'd like. It seems odd, in the past I have practically lived at Val's place, but now I haven't even seen her or the family in well over a week. I've missed HFS two weeks in a row, now. First I had a headache from hell. It felt like a lovely little proto-migraine, waiting to fully flower from semi-blinding pain to full blinding pain. Last week I was working on the story that wouldn't end. When it did end, late Sunday night, it clocked in roughly fifteen hundred words beyond our maximum word count. I did finally manage to cut it down by about twelve hundred words, but it was cutting it close. It hurts to have to go through and cut down what you thought was sparse to begin with. But this weekend I will be there, and hopefully will get the ball rolling on my squire project. I am feeling antsy about my squireship. It feels like I am off to a rough start. I'm hoping to change, this, though. Maybe seeing my friends on Saturday will be just what I need to feel like I can stretch out.

Ericka Tagged Me!

Ericka tagged me! And so here we go with the meme thing.
1 - List seven weird/quirky habits about myself
2 - Tag seven people to do the same
3 - not just say “whoever wants to do it” or refuse to tag people

1. I kiss the back of my hand and tap the roof of my car as I go through yellow lights. I'm not sure why. It started with my friends in high school and it's just continued. I've heard different reasons from different people, but none of them are the reason I do it, because I don't feel like anything special is going to happen if I do/don't do it.

2. I can't feel comfortable living somewhere until I've put salt along all of the windows and doorways. It's my big "oooh I'm a witch!" concession. I don't work a whole lot of magic, but this is definitely one thing I have to do. Interesting sidenote, I never had to do it at our last apartment. I always just felt safe there.

3. When I'm fidgeting with my hands I will run one thumb across my other thumb nail, alternating back and forth.

4. I hate it when other people use words such as ironically or literally incorrectly, but it drives me flat out insane when I use them incorrectly because I have been subjected to the wrongness so much. (I've pretty much given up on ironic, but I will never stop the fight on the misuse of literal.)

5. Andrew enjoys pointing out that I drink from the left side of my mouth. This is one of those things that I don't know why I do it, but have become incredible self-concious about. If I had to guess I'd say it's because I can't drink and read effectively if I don't hold the glass to the side.

6. If I'm wearing a necklace, I'll constantly mess with it. If it has a pendant, I'll either rub it or tap it against my lips. It helps me think.

7. I plan to curse around my children. I am going to teach them that words are powerful, and there's no such thing as a "bad" word, just an inappropriate one. There will be much talking about what is appropriate and what isn't, just like with any other behavior. I am looking forward to my children. I think they'll be fun.

Now let's see... I choose: (from Livejournal) Melissa, Courtney, Mark, Sarah M., Jordan, Trish (who can fill it in for Rebekah if she'd like) and Jessica

Cats and Boobs

Mom has taken to waiting until Andrew is out and then coming in to talk to me. Well, she says she wants to talk to the cats, and before I know it the cats are being told how my brother is screwing up now, or getting a litany of things my father has done lately. At least she tells them they're cute. Anyway, now, apparently, my brother feels that by buying him a house Mom and Dad pushed him out. Bentley's answer was to roll on his back and try to look cuter. Puck just glared at her for interrupting his nap. Puck is officially a teenager, I guess. He has the glare down pat. He could out glare a whole lunchroom of seventh graders. I'm starting to realize that it's a good thing I'm married, otherwise I'd surely be edging into crazy catlady territory.
In other news, I've decided to the Boobie-Thon this year. I forget why I didn't last year, but I'm doing it now! Yay boobs! And double yay for keeping boobs cancer free! Stupid cancer. My maternal grandmother survived her breast cancer (but not her diabetes), but I lost a paternal aunt to it. Breast cancer is a topic near and dear to my own boobs. I'm debating trying to put together a donation thing, like if I hit a certain ammount I'll shave my head. Or maybe I'll put two up, donate for me to keep my hair or donate to see me shave it, and then whichever ammount is higher will be the winning option. I think my mom will be donating to see me shave it, though she might throw a couple of bucks at not in the end. We'll see. My biggest concern about shaving my head is how much I know I will look like my brother. Everything else I can deal with. Well, possibly not the big red circle birthmark I have on the back of my head, which my brother also has, because the last thing a bald girl needs is a target.

Happy (early) Birthday to Me

Yesterday my mother and I went by a local gym, just to check it out. I walked out with my birthday present, a membership. Which, while a wise investment in my future, shoots down my plans for pooling my birthday money and putting it towards a laptop. Although, one of the other things that came up was the possibility of selling my car to put some money towards tuition. I'm hoping to shunt some of that money into the laptop fund. It's for school! If I had a laptop, I could be curled up on the bed typing away on my story, instead of doing it here at my desk and being distracted by the interwebs every two seconds. That is my rationale. Now if I could just concentrate on the story I'm supposed to be writing. The story itself is good. The fact that it's only supposed to be 750 words long is bad. I don't know if anyone's noticed, but I talk. A lot. Me plus a 750 word limit doesn't work. Can't I just write away to my heart's content and eat the rest of the tomato soup I made for dinner? Mmmm.... Anti-oxidants are yummy.
Now to finish cutting my story to shreds, to be followed by digging out gym stuff. Must resist napping.

Brain Filler

I just sat down and read the first book due for Creative Non-Fiction. Okay so it was a graphic novel, Persepolis to be precise. It's about a girl in Iran in 1980 during the Islamic Revolution. What's more fun is that, dur non-fiction class, it's a memoir. I wish I could remember more from Early Modern Mid East, but even with my pretty limited grasp of politics/history from the area, it was good. The art and language are pretty simple, which works since it's the point of view of a ten year old, well, up to when she's 14. The art is on the cartoony side, all in black and white. It's war torn Tehran, but it's war torn Tehran with bendy lines. But I think it's effective in that it doesn't push the reader away with stark/realistic images, but it brings you in because the art is inviting, it feels safe. Definitely matches her attitude. I'm looking forward to the second volume, but I'm going to be good, and do all my other homework. Well as much as I can, considering I haven't bought all my textbooks yet. *sigh* Sexual Difference and the Gothic novel is going to be fun, though. And oh so much writing to do for writing workshop. If my fingers don't fall off this semester, I will consider it a success.

School Supplies, yay!

Okay so the lowdown... I applied to grad school and the program of my choice. I got into the program, the school? Not so much. But I figured this would happen, so no biggie, I just went through the appeals process. There was, however, much freaking out, as school starts on Monday. So this morning I called the dean's office, and the secretary said the letter had been signed and mailed out, and she was pretty sure I had been approved. Woo! So I called the grad studies office, and they confirmed this, so I basically spent today running around trying to get my stuff together and get registered. And now I am. Unfortunately, even though I'm not the only one who wants to do it, and even though the professor says it's okay and he'll do the extra work to make us do the extra work, I'm not going to be able to use the undergrad (though 4000 lvl) scriptwriting class for my grad work. Boo. So I had to find another class. Currently I'm looking at a fiction writing workshop, Form and Theory in Creative Non-Fiction, and a Gender and Literature course that is specifically looking at the Gothic novel. (Specifically the feminine aesthetic of terror as compared to the masculine aesthetic of horror. Heh.) I'm eligible for an assistantship, but considering the fact that I am on probation, I decided not to apply. I want to really get my grad school bearings before I take that on. So, you know... next year.
In other news... not much has happened. My mom's cat, Mac, passed away. I felt so bad. He had an infection and just couldn't shake it off. At least we tried everything we could. So now my two truly are the spoiled brats of the house. And spoiled they really are. Bentley is still trying to figure out how doors work. The other night he was running around, and hopped up on the bed and burrowed under the covers until he was curled up by my feet. Perfect hiding place! And then he sneezed, and, realizing his cover had been blown, took off running again. Puck has been pretty lovey, lately. He still wants to go outside, but that just ain't going to happen.
For now I am off to make potato salad and cut up veggies for the veggie plate for tomorrow. We're having a big back to school party for my cousins' kids. I expect to end the day well fed, slightly sunburned, and totally wiped out from having fun. After all, that is why I moved back home.

Pen To Paper

So I am working on a new story thing. I have the characters in mind and the basic relationships between them, and I know how I want one scene at the very end to go, but I'm not really sure about the antagonist. I'm not sure why he's there and what he's doing. I mean, sure there's the nebulous destroy the world/rule the world thing, but that just feels done to death. The whole thing is kinda' frustrating because the story isn't really going to go anywhere until the conflict gets figured out. I'm pulling from a bunch of different shapeshifter mythologies, and tossing in something I came up with. So hell, I may just make him a psuedo vampire, but that seems so boring. Which, make it interesting, find a new way to make it work, yeah yeah yeah. So off to look up various mythologies and try to figure out what my macguffin is. Whee!

Conquest of the Pantry

Well, it took a while, but I have more or less conquered the pantry. I feel bad about all the expired food I threw out, but hopefully since Andrew and I live here now we'll be able to keep things under control. Mom has already argued with me about how I organized some of it, but I never expected a simple thank you.
I'm getting ready to head out and turn in a job application. Fun stuff. I probably should have gotten that done when we were out doing stuff at Pan Am the other day, but it's hot out there. ... And I'm back! Dinner was had with Noemi and my folks. I think we're going to go see Hairspray tomorrow for Amanda's birthday. Let it be noted that she is going to be ... 9. I think. I'm pretty sure.
Also on the schedule for tomorrow is cleaning. *sigh* Mom is serious about this whole decluttering thing. I think I'm going to make her sit down so we can work out a game plan of what room we're starting in and where we are putting things for the magical yard sale. And I am going to have a talk with her about the fact that I am going to be doing my best to help her break habits and get rid of things and she needs to not get upset with me when I tell her to get rid of something. I forsee many many arguments. But not now. Now, I am off to dash off a birthday present for Amanda. Maybe a little messenger bag, since she wants to start going to the library. Or maybe I'm being ambitious.

So much to do, so little interest in doing it...

I'm so bored. And Andrew isn't awake yet. I ought to be doing something productive, but here I am writing on LJ and listening to Puck be very concerned about something, though I have no idea what. And it's not the usual sit in one place and whine at the ceiling thing, he is wandering around whining, and looking at me every few minutes to make sure that I am noticing him trying desperately to tell me something.
I need to go clean out the pantry. I really ought to go clean out the pantry. I threw out a bottle of salad dressing that expired in 2003, and it's not like it had been shoved to the back of the shelf, no it was right up front in plain view. I was hoping to put it on my salad. Okay... lunch and then with the pantry cleaning. If you never hear from me again, assume I have been bludgeoned to death by the sentient can of peas that Puck was trying to warn me about.