The Ghost Of Christmas Future

Stardate 49750.12:

Dancing Through the Holidays

I hadn’t intended to get to this one quite yet but since I started us down the belly dancing rabbit hole last week, I’ve decided to keep going.

When I first started taking belly dance classes, my teacher followed the American Tribal Style. ATS is different from classical belly dancing, more a fusion of various folk dance techniques. My instructor always said that it was a very female dance, women dancing for women, not for men. It was group-oriented and improvisational and tons of fun… but never really quite hit the sweet spot for me.

However, after that whole unfortunate skull fracture incident, when I needed to find a way to exercise indoors without triggering my vertigo, I started to explore belly dance again. There are a lot of beautifully fluid dancers out there, with mad muscle control skillz, (many of whom I admire) but it wasn’t until I discovered Rachel Brice that I found a belly dancer whose style made me whimper with the longing to Dance Just. Like. Her.  (And the funky steampunk costumes don’t hurt either.)

It will never happen, of course. 

But an aging zaftig woman can dream, no?

So here you go - a quick intro to my belly dance idol, Rachel Brice:
(the light improves at about 50 seconds)

Look for her again at future Friday Night Dance Parties!

December 24th...

Merry Christmas to All!

and to all:

Love, Happiness, and Peace on Earth.

Altho' It's Been Said Many Time, Many Ways...

Holiday Dance Party

She’s not my favorite bellydancer but she moves well and she certainly hits the beat!

(Plus, just the fact that she’s dancing to TransSiberian Orchestra earns her a Christmas thumbs up in my book. :-D)

Enjoy!

(And Tom, if you’re out there - this one’s for you!)

Hallmark Invades The Enterprise

This was actually my Christmas card one year:

I’m waiting for enough time to pass that I can send it again!

We Take The Dance Party To India

Bharatanatyam is one of the classical Indian dance forms, begun in the Hindu temples of Tamil Nadu. It is a dance that expresses emotion, melody, and rhythm; an “illustrative anecdote of Hindu religious themes and spiritual ideas emoted by dancer with excellent footwork and impressive gestures”

It’s also just plain captivating to watch…

In Which I Interrupt My Decorating to Vent

So, I got this wild hair of an idea for a Christmas decoration, which I have been frantically working on for days now… to the point that I’m in danger of becoming one of those people who can’t stop showing off the 86 million pictures of their latest pet project. (Don’t worry… you all are safe. It’s quirky enough that it would be identifiable if I were to post pictures here so I won’t be doing that.) 

I only mention the fact to explain that pictures are being shown around… 

        and just about every person I’ve shown them to has reacted with genuine surprise. 

                  “I had no idea you were creative!”

…

… …

… … …

How does one respond to that??

And more importantly, What the heck kind of impression am I projecting???

(I asked this of SP, who responded with, “What kind of obtuse weirdos do you hang with when I’m not around?” … An answer which cheered me immensely. :-D)

Festive Beauty

While I like having time to enjoy my Christmas decorations, I’m more of a “two weeks before” kind of gal. So I pretty much waited for this weekend to do my decorating. Of course, I didn’t think to get the cleaning done ahead of time, so "decorating" has gone something like this:

“What shall I put up next? … Okay, that goes *there*...”; I then vacuum and dust the bejeepers out of *there*; put up the decoration; and start the whole process all over with the next spot.

I have to admit, it’s not my favorite approach to decorating but we work with what we have… and this year, what I have is woeful ill-preparedness. But not to worry, I’m getting there in spite of myself. The poinsettias are out, the candles are in the windows, Christmas mugs are washed and on the shelf, and my tree is up and decorated.

Possibly not optimized but "up and decorated" is good enough for me!

(thank you, selkie!)

To The Bakers

and everyone else who enjoyed the day:

It would never happen without All of You.

(And I'm very grateful that it does!)

Let Us Eat Cookies...

Welcome to The Ninth Annual 

Great Online Cookie Exchange Extravaganza!

You have to have figured out by now that I really love doing this every year. I also really love the fact that so many of my faithful bakers keep coming back - yet each new exchange also sees one or two new people joining in the fun, as well. That makes me smile, to see that you all seem to enjoy this as much as I do. Thank you for making it so much fun.

Now, on to the cookies ('n' stuff)!

The original plan this year had been to present one short and simple recipe (an eggnog riff on the classic Oreo truffle) and one slightly more involved recipe that is dairy and gluten free. (I have a new family member who’s both lactose and gluten intolerant, and Tiny Woman has recently developed lactose intolerance, as well... not to mention the recent influx of vegetarians and vegans into my social circle. All of which means that increased vigilance is now A Thing for me… because, you know, the holidays weren’t already challenging enough.)

But anyhow, my plan didn’t work out so well. The eggnog truffle recipe turned out to be an absolute flop. Tasty, to be sure, but thoroughly miserable to work with - far too wet, droopy, and unmanageable… even an excess of freezing couldn’t salvage the process. I think the recipe proportions need massaging but unless or until I figure the problem out, there’s no way I’m disseminating this particular recipe. (Altho’ I *will* snack on the resultant misshapen blobs now stored in my freezer- let us not kid ourselves.)

The DF GF Magic Cookie Bars, however, made up for the disappointment - they are super!

The recipe comes from Food, Faith, Fitness

Her recipe, but I’ve been fairly unrestrained about adding my own notes to the directions.

Gingersnap Chocolate Magic Cookie Bars 

     (Paleo, GF, DF) - from Food, Faith, Fitness

Ingredients 

For the topping: 

1 Can Full-fat coconut milk (14 oz) 

1/4 C Honey (or agave for vegan) 

1/4 C Molasses
2 tsp Ground ginger 

1 tsp Cinnamon 

For the bars:

    

2/3 C Pecans
1/3 C Coconut oil, at room temperature (should be like softened butter) 

3 Tbsp Honey (or agave)
3/4 C Coconut flour, sifted
1/2 T Instant coffee
Pinch of salt
1/4 C dairy-free mini chocolate chips (or regular, if DF isn't a concern)

Instructions 

1. Pre-heat oven to 350 degrees and spread the pecans on a small cookie sheet. Toast until golden brown, about 8-10 minutes. (Watch them! Nuts go from toasty to burned very quickly.) Roughly chop and set aside.

2. Whisk together all of the “topping” ingredients in a large saucepan over high heat. Bring the mixture to a boil and boil for 1 minute, stirring constantly. Then, turn the heat down to medium and simmer until the sauce reduced by about half. 

(Jz note: Taylor (FFF lady) estimated this would take 10-15 minutes. That was decidedly not my experience - mine took WAY longer than 15 minutes. The time is not important, however, what matters is that you get the sauce reduced to about about 1.25 cups of liquid. 
Taylor suggests that you keep pouring the sauce out into a large measuring cup to check, then returning to the saucepan until it’s cooked down sufficiently. This struck me as much-too-much of a nuisance, so I made a little measuring device. I put 1 1/4 C of liquid in the saucepan, took a short length of florist’s wire and fitted it so that it just touched the liquid when clipped over the side of the pan. 

the device

But you do you… just cook it down to the right amount, however you measure it.)

3. Take the sauce off the heat and let cool, stirring occasionally. (Helps the cooling and prevents a skin forming, so really… please stir.)

4. Line an 8x8 inch pan with parchment paper, leaving an overhang up the sides to use as a handle when you de-pan the bars. (Note: It helps to spray the bottom of the pan with spray before putting in the parchment paper, to keep it in place.)

5. In a medium bowl, using an electric hand mixer, beat the coconut oil and honey until smooth and creamy. Stir in the flour, coffee and pinch of salt until a wet dough forms. (By the way, if you're worried about being overwhelmed by the taste of coconut, I've found that refined coconut oil has a much more neutral flavor than the unrefined kind.)

 

6. Press the dough evenly into the bottom of the pan. This is one of those doughs that you really need to press with your palms and fingers, so toss all thoughts of dainty out the window. Get right in there with your (well-washed) hands!

7. Bake the crust just until lightly golden brown, about 6-7 mins. (Taylor says 7-8 but mine was just starting to scorch at 7, so I’m dropping it down a bit.)

8. As soon as the crust comes out of the oven, sprinkle the chopped nuts on top, and lightly press them into the crust. Then sprinkle on the chocolate chips.

9. Pour the slightly cooled coconut milk mixture EVENLY over the top of the surface and gently shake the pan to encourage co-mingling. (Or use the “push with the back of a spoon” method I had to adopt - I hadn’t grabbed my potholders and the pan was too hot to hang onto… whoopsie!) 

Just agitate the coconut milk mixture in some manner until it begins to sink between the layers, ok? 

10. Bake until the sides are lightly golden brown, about 25-28 minutes. (The original recipe says 27-28 minutes but again, mine didn’t need that much time. Just check ‘em earlier and add time if need be.)

11. Remove from the oven and cool to room temperature. Then cover with tinfoil and refrigerate overnight. (Don’t skip the refrigerating overnight - the coconut milk mixture really needs the time to chill and thicken.)

12. After the appropriate chilling time, run a sharp knife around the edges of the pan, and pull the bars out with the parchment paper handles. Cut into bars. (Taylor suggests 16, I tend to cut smaller bars when it’s for holiday cookie plates. Again - your call.)

the cookies
(eggnog blobs included)

Now, please join me in visiting the rest of the Exchange Crew.

Just remember that there are significant time differences around the world. 

If someone hasn’t posted yet, be patient and check back later.

Baker

Bogey and Bacall

Cat

DelFonte

Fondles

greengirl

Hermione

Katie

Kelly

Lindy

messymimi

Mrs. Fever

Olivia

ronnie

Ryan

Sassy

the bakers

It's Time!

Good Luck!

... ... ...

Apparently I Cannot Count

The Great Online Cookie Exchange Extravaganza is actually turning NINE!

Of course, I always make some mistake or other when I post the cookie announcement but I’d really hoped I’d broken the curse this year. At least this is better than getting the dates wrong.

So, chalk it up to another year of keeping holiday traditions and move on, Jz! 

However old it is, there’s still time to sign up if you haven’t already. 

Noon on Monday...

(Assuming you’re willing to share recipes, of course!)

Snippet - Director's Cut

He stuffed the flogger handle in my mouth (*just* like you see in the pictures.) 

Hot, it’s true, but remember that TMJ I've mentioned? Well, all too soon, I had to wiggle my jaw a little… and yes, the danged thing slipped. My hands were strung up about 2 ft. above my head, so they were unavailable to assist - yet I was determined not to lose hold completely. Through much prompt and judicious wiggling, I was able to snag the loop of the handle in my mouth, and keep it from dropping. 

Yay!

Victory! 

But a short-lived one...

He gently pulled the flogger away, gave me a few lovely little swats with it, and reinserted the handle between my teeth. 

“This time, do NOT drop it.”

Alrighty, then.

I nodded my understanding and resolutely set my recalcitrant jaw.

At which point, he pulled out not one but two vibrators and went to town.

Now, maybe you are good at screaming in ecstasy while keeping something firmly lodged between your teeth… I am not.

Out it slipped once more.

*crap!*

There was way too much involuntary thrashing about going on for me to finesse anything as delicate as grabbing the loop again, so I had to settle for clamping the handle between my shoulder and cheek. (à la phone receiver) 

Several long, wonderful minutes of “Talk to the Handle” later, I was limp and gasping. 

A hand stroked in, softening my muscles and retrieving the flogger.

“You let go”, tsk’d the voice behind me.

“I know… but I couldn’t hold it.”

“No… I knew you wouldn’t be able to.”  

“I did NOT drop it, tho’!”

Laughter rumbled against my back.

“No, you did not… Good girl.”

To Boldly Go...

If you’ve read here for a while, you may recollect that I’ve been on the hunt for a new masseuse for quite some time now - but I haven’t been having a lot of luck. Some of that is time, some of it is money, and some of it is simply a question of the stars not lining up for me.

I think that's about to change, however.

As I was weaving myself, my bags, and my sceptre of sprouts out of the farmers market the other day, a little sign way back in the corner caught my eye.

“Massage - A Dollar A Minute”

Being both sore of shoulder and in possession of a rare bit of spare cash, I decided to spring for a five-minute teaser. I dropped my purchases off in the car and came back to wait my turn. I listened politely to the woman’s spiel… She’s new to the area and just got her business set up so this seemed like a good way to get the word out about her services, yada yada yada… I’ll admit, I kind of tuned her out pretty quickly. Her office, while close to the farmers market, is fairly out of the way of my normal daily commute and I didn’t think it likely that she’d ever get much more than this five dollars out of me.

Until she started working on my back.

The noise and chatter of the crowded venue faded into the background, drowned out by the contented hum of pleasure vibrating through my body.

I moaned. I melted. I briefly contemplated proposing marriage.

When my five minutes were up, I wanted to cling to the chair like a two-year old and wail, “No! Don’t WANNA leave! You can’t make me!”

She was just that good.

As a result, I anticipate that I’ll be spending more time out at the far end of my home range in the future…. and I’ll be doing it with a smile on my face.

So the moral of the story is:

Don’t be afraid to spend that $5 to try out an unknown.

You may be pleasantly surprised!

Or, you know, not…

Now, to Work Off Some of That Food!

(Apropos of nothing, why don’t I ever meet men who can move like this?)

Happy Thanksgiving!

May it be a wonderful day for you, whether you celebrate the holiday or not.

Speaking of Food...

This year…

The Great Online Cookie Exchange Extravaganza Turns Eight!

That’s right - the increasingly inaccurately named 

         Great Online Cookie Exchange Extravaganza 

will celebrate its eighth Blogland appearance on Wednesday, December 5th… 

and I really hope you’ll consider being one of the participants.

It’s simple to play along, really.

All you need to do is to post a recipe for a holiday goodie on the appropriate day.

         (Wednesday, Dec 5th)

Your recipe doesn’t even actually have to be for a cookie. 

Anything that you consider yummy and festive is something I want to know about!

Sign up by noon on Monday, December 3rd in order to get your name on the list of participants. (I need some lead time time to assemble and distribute the list to participants.)

To sign up:

         Email me by noon on Dec 3rd

With this information:

         Your screen name and the URL of your blog. 

         (OK, I also need your email address but I’ll have that if you email, right?)

                  If I don’t get those 3 things, you won’t make the participant list. 

                  (Sorry, but I’m done with chasing people.)

That’s it - just one email, three details, and a post!

     It's gonna be fun!

In Which The Farmers Market Almost Undoes Me

I live in a home of 1950’s construction - one with funny little nooks and cabinets hung in unusual places. There is a niche dedicated to holding what was a full refrigerator at the time but by now, that same space can only be filled by an apartment-sized fridge. Which is fine - I’m single, I only need but so much food at one time anyhow… except… at the holidays.

For a couple of weeks now, in anticipation of my Thanksgiving food storage needs, I’ve been methodically working my way through all the extraneous bits and bobs that can accumulate in one’s fridge. (Do you guys end up with two open jars of the exact same condiment too, or is that a super-power unique to me?) The cleaning-out went well and I was feeling confident about the available space situation when I headed out the door to the farmers market yesterday morning.

I will not describe the mad-house that was the produce area - suffice it to say that I consider myself lucky not to have incurred an unfortunate brussels sprouts injury. (Seriously, these things could be used as cudgels!) 

Instead, let’s just say that I fought the good fight and obtained everything on my list.

I realized as I was loading up my car, however, that I had a problem. My haul consisted of nothing more than brussels sprouts, a head of broccoli, one of cauliflower, some kale, and five sweet potatoes, yet I had two overflowing bags and a stalk of sprouts that, quite literally, was as long as my leg. (And I’m the one who needs pants with a 36” inseam, remember…) My produce took up more space than a 10-year old child… yet it all needed to go into my modest refrigerator!

So when I got home, Project Produce Deconstruction was launched. I took the crisp bunch of kale and began to chop and de-rib, reducing its volume from that of an over-sized watermelon to something that fit nicely into a gallon-sized ziploc bag. The broccoli and cauliflowers were ruthlessly de-leafed, resulting in two neat heads that just about fit into the crisper drawer and an armful of stalk and leaves for the compost heap. Then I cleared off the countertop, maneuvered the cudgel stalk of sprouts so it dangled over the edge onto the cutting board, and began to excise the buds. Loose leaves drifted over my feet and I quickly filled up another gallon-sized ziploc bag. (I also bagged up the crown of leaves at the top, as the woman at the market assured me they are excellent when sauteed. I am slightly skeptical but willing to try…)

At last, everything was in convenient storage containers that fit nicely into the fridge - and with room left over, even! So I gathered up the detritus and headed outside, where I briefly channeled royalty; processing across my yard with a scepter of stalk, an armful of flowing vegetable leaves, and petals of Brussels sprouts gently strewing themselves along my way. It was a very enjoyable moment of fantasy - which ended abruptly when my foot (in its imaginary dainty slipper) squelched into the compost heap. 

Grinning, I tossed my regalia onto the pile and went inside to restore myself by sampling another purchase - cinnamon chip brioche rolls. With butter. And a cup of coffee.

Equilibrium Restored.

Let the holiday cooking begin!

Klingon Turkeys

The Gift That Time Forgot

(A Gratitude Month Post)

I came across something while doing some deep cleaning the other day.

A simple crimson box in the corner of my bookcase, it was one of those things that has sat in the same place for so long that you don’t even register it anymore. Because I was purging my shelves however, this time I actually looked at it… and thought. I remembered that it was a gift, but I could not recall when I got it, or who gave it to me… or even if I’d ever actually opened it. Nothing on the outside of the box describes the contents - it simply informs you that it’s a Creativity Kit. So I stared at it a while, gauging whether or not I wanted to open the box and risk being sucked down a rabbit hole, or if I’d avoid temptation and toss it, unopened.

Curiosity won, of course.

Nestled inside the nicely-made box, I found a “creativity journal”, three small wrapped disks that look like soap (tho’ that seemed unlikely,) and something reminiscent of a pencil box, with kanji characters on it. 

Yeah, I’m going to dig further…

I opened the journal and peered at the introduction. “This kit is intended to pry open the door to your imagination. It contains two tools: one active and one contemplative.” The disks are actually decks of “positive creative action” suggestion cards and the journal is for “contemplative writing on… creativity.”  There was no mention of the pencil-box-y thing, so I pried it open, only to find a paper cylinder, which itself held a plastic bag of incense - tho' nothing fragrant enough for me to place the scent.

I pulled a stick out and lit it. I am no connoisseur but I recognized the aroma as one of the traditional incense smells (patchouli, maybe?) - one that propelled me straight back to the mid-1970’s, hanging out in the bedroom of my free-spirited friend Butterfly, with her riot of red curls, wardrobe of Indian print clothing, and incomprehension of why I was still a virgin at the age of 15. (Did I want her boyfriend to fix me up with a friend? NO! Ok, just asking…)

(Can you tell I was well down the rabbit hole by now?)

Next, I carefully peeled back the sticker on one of the action decks. “Clean your desk” suggested the top one (that’s what I was doing when you sidetracked me…) followed by, “Give away a piece of jewelry” … “Decorate a cigar box”… “Bake gingerbread men”… 

OK. I’ve got the gist of those. Now, what about this journal?

I flipped the pages open to the workspace itself, curious to see what the quotes and prompts looked like… only to discover that I HAD opened this before. There was a single entry in it, written in what I think of as my Dante period about 12 years ago. (See this post for explanation.) My heart sank, my rabbit hole turned into a pit, and I crash-landed at the bottom.

Ouch. 

I was pleased to note that the words on paper weren’t mortifyingly angsty (am I the only one who cringes when re-reading outpourings of Emotions Past?) but I cannot say I enjoyed being transported back to that time, either. I was, not to put too fine a point on it, a mess in those days. My dad had died, a 10-year relationship was just ending, and I’d realized I had lost hold of some indefinable quality, some spark that I’d always felt defined me. For the first time in my life, I was truly and profoundly alone - not just separated from others but from myself, as well. I was completely adrift…, and it was ugly.

This likely explains why I cannot remember the gift - that time of my life is not one I often choose to recall. (It’s not blacked out, but there are definitely some very heavy dust covers thrown over the details.) But still, despite the discomfort, I wasn’t sorry to read that one bewildered little entry, because it reminded me of just how very fortunate I have been. The whole process of loss and reconnection with that inner spark turned out to be one of the best things that ever happened to me, despite the misery of the struggle itself. It’s an obscure metaphor but the best way to describe the result is to say it reinforced my inner gimbal. I ride out tumult a lot better these days… a grace I'm very glad for.

So I think I’ll hang onto this little creativity kit. I’m not convinced my already-vivid imagination needs the help, but it’s always good to "pry open the door" to let gratitude in.

Whys and Wherefores

I’m not deliberately not-blogging, I just seem to be continually without time.

We had a summer that was so bloody, stinking, miserably hot that pretty much everybody fell way behind on all their chores. (We were all far too busy sweating and griping.) Then it was Hell Month (a time when mere survival counts as a win,) and now suddenly, it’s fall and I’m out of available daylight hours - and still way behind on all my chores.

Nor is it just chores. It’s everything: yardwork, housework, time with friends, emails, fun… and let’s not even talk about sexxay times - because while I may think I’m busy, I’m the tortoise to BG’s hare. Which I’d be more upset about… if I had the time to be. As I don’t, we just keep doing a lot of rescheduling. (Tho’ if something doesn’t give soon, I may contemplate doing violence to his boss. Just sayin’!)

So basically, I’m scrambling. I kid myself that I’m making progress (albeit of the baby steps variety) but I’m pretty sure that’s just a comforting delusion. And even when I do grab some time to sit down and rest, my brain remains in “gerbil-in-wheel” mode. I have periodic flashes of good ideas but by the time they register with my distracted brain, all I can see is dust in the rear view mirror.

It will pass, it always does..., but I hate it.

All I really want to do is to plunk my butt down in my chair and channel Spock:

Ummm, Not Yet...

I’m still having trouble catching up with life enough to have time to blog.

          (sorry!)

I do, however, have a brief moment to bring you this public service appeal:

Happy Friday, all!

Here Comes The Crew

"doot'n-doo-doo..."

And that's your Sunday Morning Earworm for this week!

A Distinctive Dance

Tonight’s dance party takes us to China, for this spectacular Dance of a Thousand Hands. 

I really wanted to share this because it’s so visually stunning - but when I decided to learn a little more about the work, I became stunned in other ways, as well. 

It’s not a traditional dance, but a modern piece - one choreographed by the eminent Chinese choreographer Zhang Jigang (who is also a high-ranking military officer in the Chinese army - *mind blown*…) and it is performed by a troupe of deaf dancers. (That’s why you see the woman on the edge of the stage in a couple of the long shots - she’s there to provide a visual to help the dancers synchronize with the music.)

I think it’s gorgeous and amazing.

I hope you like it, too.

(Again - watch in full screen if you can.)

Halloween Regret

I have my candles out, the pumpkin’s carved, and the candy bowl is filled and set by the door. 

I was feeling quite pleased with my Halloween preparations… 

           until I spotted this - far too late to do anything about it:

Halloween Hedgehogs!

My patronus pumpkin...

And here I am without a single one.

*le sigh*

Maybe next year?

Enjoy the night, all!

On A Different Note...

The door is still shut on The Project That Disappointed, and this week we're focusing on: 

A List Of Excellent Things That Have Happened 

   I realized I am more than half-way through with my Christmas shopping!

This isn’t intentional, really. I just pick things up as I see them and then take stock at the end of October to see what is left to purchase. And “Not much” is the answer for this year!

   I found a little stash of mad money that I’d forgotten about!

Not only that, but I found said money right before I headed out the door to an open studio day at a terrific local potters… Which means that:

   I have a gorgeous new mug.

Mind you, I need a new mug like I need a hole in my head - but that doesn’t matter. 

Mugs… Pottery… Love ‘em both. (#cantstopwontstop)

   I got a bee-yoo-ti-ful pumpkin for Halloween.

It’s not carved yet, as I hold off on that in order for my jack ‘o’ lanterns to look fresh as a daisy for the big night, but the design has been selected and etched out.

(in case you're curious)

But The Number One Most Excellent Thing?

   Tiny Woman’s Husband Fixed My Window!!!

Yes, *that* window - the one that was canted so badly that I had trouble with the latch.

Over the summer, the angle had increased to the point that the window would no longer even slide in its tracks. It just sat there, lodged open. I was beginning to think an emergency fenestration was going to be required, but Helpful Guy came to the rescue! My window now glides smoothly from raised to lowered… and back again.

   Life is Good.

Frailty, Thy Name is Jz

One of my great peeves has to do with people who consistently overbook their lives with somewhere between 1.25 - 3.0 times the amount of things that they actually have time for. (HINT: This never works… And have you noticed you alienate people because they can’t depend on you?) 

Unsurprisingly then, I tend toward the other end of the spectrum - the one made popular by Montgomery Scott:  *Hmmmm, if I’m lucky, it’s a five minute job, but it could also take as much as a couple of hours*…  “Captain, that will take me at least half a day to fix!” 

With that in mind, on to our story...

I had to schedule A Big Project at home.

       One that required respirators, safety goggles, kneepads, and Tyvek coveralls.

I did my homework - I read up on instructions for The Big Project, I studied all the estimated times available… and doubled them. I factored in the difficulty of the physical labor required, and allowed for the fact that I am no spring chicken. I erred on the side of caution in all possible estimates, quadrupling the average times given, and finally, settled on 2 days as the optimum amount of time that would allow me to Finish The Project. 

Day One arrived. 

I suited up, donned all the safety equipment, and sallied forth confidently. Only to discover that, not only was the task FAR more physically taxing than I’d anticipated but also, wearing safety goggles and breathing like Darth Vadar brings out my inner claustrophobic. At the end of two hours, my neck was completely knotted, my back was screaming at me, and my arms were quivering… AND, I’d had two panic attacks. I managed to control one, but the other got away from me, causing me to break land speed records as I sprinted for the fresh air of outdoors. 

Yet I wasn’t even close to halfway done.

But that didn’t matter. I’d completely had it, mentally and physically. I hurt, had a roaring headache, and was thoroughly nauseated. I threw in the towel without a second thought and spent the rest of the day trying to lose the headache and eating plain rice to settle my stomach.

Day Two was… well, an improvement, I guess. I still didn’t completely finish, but I did at least get to a satisfactory breaking point before I needed to stop. (As opposed to just dropping the tools where they lay and lurching out of the room.) I also dodged any further panic attacks, altho’ I still had to battle my safety goggles. (They kept fogging up so badly that I actually had to stop twice to pour water out of them. Seriously, there was so much sloshing about that it really wouldn’t have surprised me to see goldfish!) 

Even with the psychological improvements however, I still had to quit after two hours, while my neck and back were still speaking to me. There was at least another 2-4 hours of work to be done but I could not see myself safely continuing. So I cleaned things up and shut the door behind me, with a promise to come back soon.

The worst part is done and I’m glad of that. And yes, it was my choice not to push for a couple more hours and then pay for it for the next five days. But despite all that, I’m still very disappointed in myself - for not staying on schedule, for not finishing, for being a wimp.

Because altho' I joke about being Weenie Girl, that's not really the way I like to think of myself.

My preferred imagining runs more along the line of this:

Help Desks in Space

Look!

In the future, people have learned to reboot before they call!

Dancing My Troubles Aweigh!

This was exactly what I needed after the crazy day I've had.

It’s got two of my favorite kinds of men:

Russian

and

Sailors

AND... they’re dancing.

        Superbly.

To upbeat music, even.

(I think this puppy's going on "loop"...)

Stop Me If You've Heard This One...

(Punch line anyone?)