Very Good Things

First THIS:

more cat pictures

That Bad Bad Man is going to lose his street cred.
Last night he took me out for dinner, bonded with my dad over power tools, installed my new water heater, watched a girl movie, promised me a room full of yarn (as soon as he wins the lottery), fed me chocolate and tucked me in when I fell asleep.
And none of that is meant euphemistically.
I woke up this morning, took a long, hot shower and thought, "Now what can I break?!?"
(Kidding. What I really thought was the same thing I think every morning, "Oh shit! I'm late!").

There is nothing in the world more satisfying and amazing than clear, consistent, abundant hot water.

I also made a decision yesterday about my internship for next year. The interview I had last week at The Vet Center was amazing.
I loved the people, the atmosphere, the focus and mission of the clinic.
I loved that it was not located inside the labyrinth of the VA.
I loved that the "tour" started in the break room because, the woman giving the tour explained, they all spend a lot of time in the break room eating and talking.
I loved that the guy who interviewed me was charmed by the fact that I also watch The Golden Girls at midnight on Lifetime when I can't sleep.
I loved that he offered me the position unofficially and showed me my office before I left.
The only thing I didn't love is that if I take that position I am no longer in line for the stipend. I thought about it all weekend and yesterday I called and said that was OK. A good fit and the potential to practice in this area are more important than that little bit of money.
Yay me!
Now I want to get started. I'm excited about all of it. The clinic specializes in individual and group therapy for PTSD, sexual assault, marital issues, and grief and bereavement. (I know, right?!)
Le pant, le heave.

Just a few more days until Bean and I leave for Indiana!!
I have my travel reading and knitting ready, but I should probably do some laundry and clean a little bit. I am so excited - not just because I need to get the hell out of town for a few days.
I haven't seen Marianne since her wedding (!!!) and she has created an entire human being since then. Also, her husband Mike is charming and speaks French and is actually good enough for her.
And Emilie and Derek are basically family. But the good kind of family... the kind you actually want to speak to and spend time with. Emilie and I have been friends for 20 years and she still likes me! (And Derek has known me for 20 years and he still lets me in the house!!) She also shares my love of all things fiber, long naps, good food and Orlando Bloom. And while Derek does not speak French, he is quite charming. And also patient and sweet with Bean.

Is it Saturday yet?!?

Warm Heart, Cold Shower

So I had a fabulous time last night. Lots of food and good conversation... and Sex and the City... It was grand.
I went home after, opened a bottle of red wine and read for an hour or so and then I went to bed.

This morning I got up to get a glass of water and spend a lovely day lounging around before I had to leave for work and from the laundry room I could hear a dripping that sounded all together bad.
And it was.

My hot water heater had transformed overnight from a water "heater" to a water "fountain." Now I'm not one to step on anyone's dreams or anything, and if you feel deep inside that you were meant for greater things then go out into the world and make that happen. Out in the world. OUT in the world. If you were born a fountain trapped inside a heater make that transformation on your own time, in your own house and leave mine out of it. Thank you.

I called my daddy who told me where to find the "make the water stop lever" and said he'd be over tomorrow to take care of it.

Love you, daddy.

So there was a lot of water on the floor. Water and dryer lint and kitty litter and cardboard boxes. It was not pretty.

I had myself a good, old fashioned single-girl breakdown, full-out sobbing for a good 30 minutes. Honestly, isn't this what boys are FOR?!? Aren't they supposed to be the ones to fix these things just so that we don't have to? (I know the answer is no. Of the two worthless men I married the only one who would have had ANY idea what to do is the first one... and he would have just called That Bad Man and asked him what to do).

So I put on work clothes. (Stop laughing I do too own work clothes. They're just usually known as my "too depressed to move clothes" so you probably haven't seen them).

Here's a tip: if you don't own a shop vac... well, get one for crying out loud... but if you're faced with a flood like this before you make it to Sears for your new shop vac use blankets instead of towels for sopping it up. Seriously. Towels go all wet and limp and then you've still got gallons of water and wet towels. Blankets can sop up a lot of water - then you put them in the washing machine, spin 'em dry for a few minutes and then toss 'em back on the floor. Trust me on this one.

So I got the water up, spun my blankets then washed them while I cleaned the floor and moved stuff and cleaned the floor some more. Two hours of this. Ugh.
Y'all know how much I looooooove me some hard work and sweating and dirty stuff. And also how fond I am of cleaning.

Then I had to clean myself.
In a house with no hot water.
There was no screaming. There may have been some gasping and sputtering, because DAMN! But my hair and body are clean, there is no more water on the floor and my daddy is having "his guy" bring me a brand-spanking-new water heater tomorrow.

No more cold showers for me!

Fabreezing the Hoo Haw

(Note: if you are not interested in a rant about my hoo haw, or if you are uncomfortable reading about feminine hygiene you might want to just skip this one.)

So I'm a thrifty girl (no I'm not).
OK. I'm a girl who can't walk past a sale on anything (that's better).
A few months ago I was at the grocery store and they had panty liners on sale... it was a good price and it was a good brand so I stocked up.
I put them in the hall closet and more or less forgot about them until today.
This morning I'm getting ready for work and I thought - "Oh right, I'm not out of panty liners! I have two whole big boxes of them in the closet!" So I pulled them out and opened the box... At first I thought maybe I had stored them too close to some bath salts or something. Then I realized they are scented.

Flowery scented.
The "fresh and clean" verbiage on the box was apparently more than just a hope, it was a threat.

Let's ignore the fact that I am allergic to most fragrances.
Let's ignore the fact that fragrances and dyes are pretty much not good in an area that delicate anyway.

Maybe it's just me...
But who wants a floral scented vagina?!? Shouldn't it smell like, you know, a vagina?
I mean, if you're healthy and not hygienically challenged there is nothing at all with things smelling the way they're supposed to smell!
Besides... if something in your house smells bad and you spray the crap out of it with some kind of flowery nonsense don't you just end up with bad smell layered with flowery nonsense which ultimately just smells worse?!?

I mean, unless it's Fabreeze. (And who wants to Fabreeze their hoo haw anyway?!?)

I can hear some of you out there, you know. "But NapLover, sometimes there are, a-hem, occasions in which one might want to, you know, smell a little special. For company..."

I say people who really love steak don't cover the flavor with steak sauce. And they sure as hell aren't going to spritz it down with eau de toilette first.

So there.

('Cause I'm an Addict, Baby)

Brace yourselves.
What I'm going to tell you is frightening and may cause you to panic. Just breathe deeply and know that I am strong enough to get through this too.
Ready?
Deep breath.
I got to work today and had no knitting with me. I had left it all at home. Not a sock, not a dishcloth, not a square. No needles, no yarn, nothing.
I know.
It's going to be OK, I promise.

It was an accident. I do need to read the book for Friday's book club, so I should be reading in my spare time anyway, but still. I realized I hadn't grabbed my knitting bag when I stopped at Quik Trip for my Diet Dr. Pepper and I seriously almost went back home.
(Also in my knitting bag is my iPod... so that means I can't sit at my desk and ignore everyone while I listen to "I Want Your Sex" and other various 80's disasters while I work).

On the other hand, we're supposed to get severe storms and possibly a round of tornadoes today. What if I get stuck here? Separated from my fibers and pointy sticks? Separated from my socks in progress and my beautiful Dragon Wings wrap?

Now I'm feeling a little sick. Perhaps it would be best to go home early today. You know, for safety.

Well, if the storm hits, leaving me fiber-less and the station is destroyed around me, tell the rescue crew I'm somewhere under the piles of debris in the fetal position humming "Undone - The Sweater Song."

We Are Not Amused

All of this "going to bed at a reasonable hour" bullshit has one large, unhappy side effect. I was awake this morning at 5:30. Awake awake. Oh my inner child and I are pissed.
We like the sleep.

So I am at work early - to read War and Peace where the coffee is free. Crazytown, right? (Crazytownovitch??) The Best Bookstore in the World issued a summer reading challenge and I said, "I laugh at your challenge. Ha."
The first meeting is this morning at 11, and I am still 200 pages behind. I realize that even I can not read 200 pages of War and Peace by then (even if I pulled myself away from the computer and actually, um, read) but I have to try to get close!! I didn't know that I would be able to make this meeting until yesterday so I was taking my time. Apparently one of my brother's cool friends is going to be there, too. I wonder who else I will know... Could be a frightening place to be. Someone reminded me recently that the literary community in this town is smaller than I realized. (This is why events like Final Friday turn into Ex-boyfriends on Parade for me).

Oh, and to clarify, "The Gay One" is not actually gay... well, he's not actually out... he is, in fact, married to a woman. He's just prissy and much more girly than I am (I know, right?) and he is completely in love with his best friend. Also, a lot (A LOT) of people thought he was gay when they met him. So he is "The Gay One" despite his apparent straightness.
He would not be pleased if he knew I referred to him that way... but then he is the reason I have sworn off writers and English majors as potential dates. Well, he was sort of the lead pipe that broke the camel's back. The lead pipe attached to the anvil.

I always thought I was attracted to the bookish, studious guy who read all the time and scribbles things down in a notebook that he carries with him.
Apparently what I am actually attracted to is the guy who can fix my shower, throw me around in bed for a few hours and then go home.

Does that make me a "Samantha?" Because I really aspire to more of a "Miranda."

Healing and Sleeping

Dr. N said if I promised not to hop up and down on it for at least two more weeks I could take the boot off. I think we have established that in general I do not hop. So I am in honest-to-bob shoes, walking sloooooowly and trying to convince my foot that it is now just fine to bend a little.

And what's with all the sleeping?!? I don't sleep!! Not for months. But Sunday night I was asleep way before 1 am and last night I was asleep before 10 pm! Who knew I could sleep like that? At NIGHT even! But the dreams - holy cats. I had a dream the other night that The Fabulous Michelle was pregnant - huge pregnant, and regal and stately as she would be. If you can imagine Queen Latifah pregnant, then white? That's The Fabulous Michelle. (I know, right?)
Last night I dreamed that Lara and I and all the kids (and I suddenly had more than just Bean, so there were a lot of little children running all over this dream) were living in this house that was owned by a couple who had just died. We were trying to convince the couple's family that we were friends of this couple and that they wanted us to continue to live in their huge, amazing house. Lara and I were going through drawers trying to learn something about them so that we would sound like we actually knew them.
At the end of the dream Lara and all the kids were gone and I was by myself walking away from the house and there was this Noro store that was closed, but through the window I could see all the yarn and also their (nonexistent) new line of fabrics. Let me just say that if that dream is any indication, Noro should TOTALLY branch out into fabrics.
I swear that I didn't eat anything strange before I went to bed last night.
And Lara? I love you and the kids, but squatting is illegal and we both have lovely houses of our own.

I swear, sometimes I think my brain is run by a fifteen year old who is getting high with her friends and saying, "You know what would be funny?"

Peep! PEEP PEEP!!!

A friend said she hadn't heard a heard a peep from me in awhile and I usually peep so she was concerned... PEEP!!
I don't have internets at home and took half-days all last week, so I haven't been responding to anyone. Sorry about that.

Wednesday night at the pool Lara's daughter E found Jeff's wedding ring. Something about the proximity to the Karma party and his birthday made this especially emotional for me. It felt like a sign. Like forgiveness. Like a completion. He did love me, and once he was good to me. He was a good man who made bad choices and refused help.
Frankly, it's easier to hate him... but that's not going to heal anything.

My interview on Thursday went really well, but is causing a tidal wave of complications for me at my full-time job. There just is no simple way for me to work full time and have a practicum and go to school. The original plan for this year was for me to go to part time and fall back on Jeff's insurance... which wasn't much of an option a year ago and is NOT AT ALL an option now. Obviously. We're working on a solution, but I spent most of Thursday crying and hopeless.
I went to Twist...
And, um, after that post about consumer fasting... I spent over $100 on yarn an needles for a wrap that I had to start righthatminute. And also a Lexie Barnes bag and some sock yarn. And maybe also some stitch markers. It was comfort shopping for comfort knitting... and it did make me feel better. Substantially better.

Friday was Final Friday and we were downtown chatting up our listeners... and eating gelato and drinking whiskey sours (my new favorite drink, thanks Shelly!!)
It was yet another round of Ex-Boyfriends On Parade... we saw "The Gay One," and while I pretended not to see him, Bean made eye-contact and he (literally) bolted from the room. He is a big, big man and until that night I had never seen him move that fast. What gives? I'm not that scary... and I was perfectly happy to just pretend I hadn't seen him at all. Oh well.

Friday was also Jeff's birthday. This time last year was our last good weekend... I'm so glad we took the trip. I am so glad to have that to hold onto as something I did for him that was exactly right. Exactly enough. He was happy for the seventy-odd hours we were in Chicago.

Saturday I tried to hide in bed with a mean ol' headache, but the station got hit by lightning (again) and The Dream Engineer needed me to come up and help with a few things. When I got home I was exhausted and hurting and generally pathetic. I took some medication and slept and slept and slept. (And with the week I'd had I probably would have holed up with some medication anyway!!)

Sunday was better. I called in sick and met some out-of-town friends for lunch and took a nap and took that bad bad man over to mom's for a swim.

And today I'm going to see Dr. N for another x-ray. I'm hoping that the foot will be healed and I can get back to yoga and walking and feeling better.