February 2009 : Fluid Pudding

Brace yourselves. I’ve been purchasing études.

So, last weekend got completely crazy and we ended up NOT getting Scruffy. We DID, however, get runny noses, a fever, and a cough that still isn’t completely gone, so we have that going for us. (Scruffy is still there. I still check on her every day. The only problem is that she is classified as Medium-Haired, which means I would either have to go back on the Zyrtec (or the booze) if we welcomed her into our home. Believe me, we’re weighing options and making pro/con lists and I actually got my Xanax prescription refilled today for the first time in 18 months, and that’s sort of a monkey of a different color, but I’m coming completely clean with you right now. And I don’t think I necessarily need Xanax, because going through 24 pills in 18 months doesn’t really classify me as needy, but it’s nice to have them around. Like a funny cousin you get to see only once or twice a year. Or a special cake you eat only at funerals or something.)

I’ve been really REEEEEEEALLY irritable over the past week or so, too. And for the first time in a LONG time, I’m going to sort of censor myself, because the folks with whom I’m irritated actually know about Fluid Pudding. (Have I ever told you that no one in my extended family knows about this site? Why is that? Why do I feel like Fluid Pudding has to be a private thing? It’s not like I really get all puhrivate over here, do I? No. I really don’t. I don’t think my secrets would interest you in the least.) Anyway, I’m in one of those moods where I sort of want to jump in the car and drive east or west (or north or south) for a few hours, check into a cute (or not so cute, really) place with a blanketed bed and knit, read, jot silly things into a big fat notebook, and sleep my weekend away. I will leave my dwellings for yarn stores and pecan pie hunts. I might even wear sneakers. I will definitely wear a hat in lieu of hygiene. Sounds dreamy, no?

Good News: Next week I’ll have a finished sweater for you. It’s my Delphine! AND, I actually know enough about knitting now that I was able to spot an error in the pattern. And this excited me in the same way that I get excited when I find a misspelling in a novel. (And, yes. I submitted the error and the author is sending it on to a tech editor, and I’m now only three degrees of separation away from H.L. Mencken.)

When I was in high school, I set a goal of learning to play all 27 Chopin études. To date, I can (just barely) play two of them. Last night I broke down and purchased the études on iTunes. It felt like I was closing a chapter, and as a result I’m feeling a bit mopish.

Who’s up for a retreat? ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

What time is it? It’s cat adding time!

Yesterday afternoon you probably felt a slight shift in the universal barometric pressure. I apologize for that. It’s just that I finally came to grips with the idea that we’re going to adopt another cat soon, and the cat I’m feeling some sisterhood with is Scruffy.

Sadly, I have to work today, and I doubt Scruffy will still be available tomorrow. Nevertheless, it’s kitten time.

On a surprisingly related note, I recently received a Swiffer in the mail. And if you follow this link, you’ll see one of my closet skeletons. (Not really a closet skeleton. More like a dusty nightmare. Tomato, tomahto.) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Do you have five minutes?

I really hate when people use the word Whirlwind to describe how their week has gone. With that said, the past week has been mighty sprightful. Today is Meredith’s kindergarten Valentine’s Day party, and because I’m still suffering from that whole No One Will Call Me Back thing, Jeff is having to take time off of work to help me with the party. (Big sarcastic and passive-aggressive Thank You shout out to all of those moms who filled out the forms saying they would love to attend all parties and provide party favors and “Just call me! I’ll be there!” and whatnot.) I could go on and on about courtesy and whatever, but I’m afraid I would once again start puking tired phrases like “dying art” and yikes. I’m really trying to be better than that.

Because I’m feeling overly ambitious, today’s party will include a banana split bar. I used to work at Baskin-Robbins, you see, and one of my greatest talents is The Ability to Cut a Banana Without Actually Touching the Edible Part. Someday I’ll make a video for you, and I’ll even dress up for that video, because when I’m slicing and dividing bananas, I feel like one of those tuxedoed and amazing card dealers on Super Poker Blowout. (That’s not an actual show. But you get the idea.) I hope to stun and mesmerize-to-the-point-of-temporary-debilitation the kindergarteners with my banana-slicing talent. Keep your fingers crossed.

You would not believe how quickly I’m typing right now. It’s just that I feel like I haven’t talked to you in ages, and pretty soon I have to leave to pick up Harper, and how are you? I’ve missed you.

Speaking of Harper, yesterday she ate a heart-shaped sucker, and I melted all over her, and after I resolidified I took a photograph and then I did that annoying thing where I pretend to be an artist just because I shelled out the yearly Picnik fee on Flickr last summer.

Let’s see. What else? Last week my family was presented with something that I would normally refer to as An Embarrassment of Riches, but man! I’m really trying to become original in 2009. Anyway, we are now the proud owners of Guitar Hero World Tour. In other words, this is my final blog entry, as I am now dropping everything to crystallize my dream of becoming the world’s greatest pretend drummer. Oh! What’s that? Pretend writer is more respectable than pretend drummer? I hear you, but I have no idea what you’re saying. Please know that when it comes to drumming along with 311 tunes, I’m completely insufferable. However, by the end of the tune, my face hurts from smiling so much. This is a good thing.

My knitting group is meeting for dinner before knitting tonight, and I can’t even tell you how excited I am.

Tomorrow is the eighth anniversary of Jeff’s proposal. And I know you don’t care, but it’s honestly one of my favorite days of the year. (My archives are out. Please know that the evening of the proposal included a dishonest death-defiance, me angrily hurling couscous down the sink, a down-on-the-knee thing over tiramisu, and a woman sending us a sort of crappy (but much appreciated) bottle of wine.)

I hope you’re doing well out there. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Ooh la la! Delphine!

I think you all know me pretty well by now. So, you know that I sort of wish I was a dainty French girl, right? I love Amélie, I eat at least one biscotti per week, one of my favorite meals is champagne and French toast (I just made that up, although I did have it once and really enjoyed it), and I’m very happy to report that Gérard Depardieu is still alive. (Gérard Depardieu, Eddie Rabbitt, Kenny Loggins, Louie Anderson. All of these people are dead to me for some reason. In fact, I couldn’t point out the actual dead ones if I tried.)

Anyway, I’m going to approach knitting a bit differently in 2009. In an attempt to stomp out my capricious knitterly ways, I’m making myself finish something before I can start something else. A few days back, I purchased French Girl Knits, and holy crap how I fell in love with Delphine. In fact, I fell So Hard for Delphine that I stayed up late on Monday night to finish my Versatility—a project that has been going on and on (and on) for nearly three months. Here I am, smelling like French Vogue in my Versatility:

Here I am, showing you how much I look like a Wii character in my Versatility:

Meredith has told me that I’m not allowed to wear my Versatility to school. Apparently, she hates bobbles and cannot appreciate the fact that I am sometimes Juliette Binoche.

Tonight I shall choose my yarn for Delphine. It’s a stinking CORSET, people. And because it’s a corset, I have once again kicked off the Weight Watchers Core Plan. (I’m down three pounds in three days, and I’m the crabbiest girl this side of the Mississippi. I’m snacking on apples, and that is NOT how I like to live.)

It’s all for you, my sweet Delphine. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Facebook has zapped me.

Me: So, it appears that I have sort of let Fluid Pudding go these past few weeks.

Jeff: Huh.

Me: I got a new phone. Does anyone want to hear about it?

Jeff: It’s The Facebook Effect.

Me: I have no idea what you’re saying.

Jeff: You told your Facebook friends that you got a new phone. You went on for two sentences or so, and then you ran out of characters.

Me: Yikes. I’m running out of character and losing my ability to elaborate. Rattlesnakes are eating their way through my saucy shoes!

As soon as I hit the Publish button over there to my right, I’m going to high five myself and go Facebook-free for a week. It’s like my own little social experiment! Focus shifting and prioritization and sparking and let’s see what happens! LET’S SEE IF I GET POKED!

Oh. I finished a few knitting projects and am starting a new one on Thursday. Do you want to hear about it, or should I save it for Facebook? I have knitting goals, people! And that sounds really crazy to 43.9% of you.

I’m almost forty years old. (Technically, I’m almost almost forty.) I don’t think I have enough cheese to feed Fluid Pudding, Twitter, and Facebook. Are any of you worn out? Are you knitting? What sort of cheese do you prefer? Is anyone else robbing Peter to pay Paul?!?! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>