Greta’s Groundhog Grooming

I have so much to do, and it’s all weird little stuff.  And huge overwhelming stuff.  Wash some forks, unload and reload the washing machine, plan a fundraiser, take the dog for a walk, clean my lair.  I’m feeling all distracted and conflicted, and not ready to deal.  So instead of procrastinating by playing solitaire, and I’ve gotten so bad about doing that again, I’m going to write (very briefly) about spontaneous jealous antlers.

Spontaneous jealous antlers are my way of trying to explain when I feel so jealous that I think it must be obvious to everyone around me.  Not only by the look on my face and my body language, but as if I were radiating palpable waves of jealousy.  As obvious as if I’d sprouted antlers.

So this is how it goes.  For me, it’s almost always been a romantic thing.  The ex I’m not over, or the friend I want to be more than friends with (but he doesn’t) is talking about his new crush/relationship.  However, I think one could grow spontaneous jealous antlers in different situations.  A friend has a career advance or artistic recognition or has achieved some milestone that one really wants for oneself.  And for me, part of me is happy for that person, and another part of me wants to be even happier.  This is my friend after all, for whom I want all good things.  And yet, and yet.  So even as part of me is happy, and smiling and wanting to hear the details (and she loves water skiing too, how cool is that), my skin is hot and cold and prickly, and my chest is tight, and there is this feeling that something needs to give, and bam, there they are.  Spontaneous jealous antlers.

And what can I do?  The best case is that the friend is so into recounting the news that he doesn’t even notice.  Second best is that I can play them off as having gone a little overboad on the calcium supplements, ‘but never mind that, tell me more about water skiing.’  Tied for last place is that the friend picks up on the lack of happiness (but not the jealousy) and is hurt, or says gleefully (an ex is more likely to do this than a friend) ‘those are spontaneous jealous antlers!  You still have feelings for me!’

I don’t like jealousy.  I don’t like myself when I’m jealous.  I think jealousy comes from a scarcity mentality that says if someone is getting something good, I am by definition getting less.  If she got a promotion, there is less job advancement for me, even if she lives 3 states away and is in a different field.  Or a romantic scarcity mentality that there is only so much love to go around, and only so many good people.

I think Julia Cameron of the Artist’s Way (which I would like to start doing again) says that jealousy is also a wake-up call.  It shows us that there is something in our lives that we want and don’t have, and that we should act on that desire.  When we’re jealous of our friend with rabbits, we should think about how to get our own rabbits.  So if jealousy stirs to action, it can be a good thing.  The thing to avoid is the wallowing in jealousy.  On that note, I will go take some actions.

It’s recycling season again.  The snow is all gone, no longer hiding litter, recyclable or otherwise, and I guess more people are walking and drinking.  In the last week or so I have filled 3 bags, not counting the bottles and such I have put in my backpack or pockets (a habit I am really trying to break, must get better about ALWAYS keeping the captain’s chair bags in the bottom of my backpack), just walking where I walk to get from here to there.  The other day my housemate asked me how my day had been and I said, “it’s been kind of rough, I needed some help to get through,” as I pulled 3 empty bottles of cheap vodka out of my pockets.  Now I have to rinse all these bottles and cans and put them in the recycling bin.  I also have to clean my room, which is in an absolutely disgusting state, and get a good system set up for the storage of bottles and cans till they’re rinsed and put in the recycling bin.  Otherwise I end up with them everywhere, including in my bed, which is just gross.

The weirdest thing I found was an empty can of condensed milk next to the Kroger driveway.  It’s hard to imagine someone chugging this on the go.  Surprisingly often I find empty cans of Vienna sausages at bus stops, but at least it’s a to go kind of food.  But condensed milk?  I love it in coffee, but it’s so thick and sweet that even thinking of consuming an entire can makes me kind of queasy.

This year I’d also like to pick up litter more often.  If I carry some regular plastic grocery bags, I can fill those up, and throw them out when I see a garbage can, or when I get home.  The melting of the snow has revealed so much litter, and it’s ugly, all environmental considerations aside. There is a cool woodsy spot by my house, with a sort of path through it, and all kinds of garbage gets blown or dumped or both back there.  I’d like to make it my ongoing project to keep that area cleaned up.  Also the little stream/wetland by the Social Security office, which I pass on the way to work.

The thing I don’t want to do is get all self-righteous about this.  It’s my compulsiveness, as much as any love of the planet, that draws me to this project.  I have way too many un-ecological habits of my own (I also need to work on these) and am not in any position to be holier than thou.  But I do admit that sometimes I think, tons of people throw their garbage out their car windows, and we expect them to really change their lifestyles in order to save the planet??  Many of my co-workers won’t take 6 steps to throw their water bottle, which doesn’t even need to be rinsed out, into the recycling bin as opposed to the garbage can.  These people suck and we’re all doomed.  But this kind of attitude will only make me cynical and bitter and nasty.

As an antidote to said attitude, I have the perfect thing to wear when going out to pick up litter.  Or maybe I’m just trying to rationalize a ridiculous purchase.  As of tonight, I am the proud owner of a black-tasseled, brown tail, that reaches almost to my ankles.  It even has a belt, so that it stays on really well and doesn’t have to be pinned.  I wanted an all black one, to wear with my black sequinned mouse ears, but they only had brown and white, and the white ones didn’t have a belt.  I decided that a tail in hand is worth two in the bush, and moreover, who is going to say, “you can’t wear a brown tail with black ears.”  Those fashion police types are much more likely to say, “why are you wearing ears and a tail, you look like a freak.”  And the people who think it’s funny won’t care about the color so much.  I love the idea of scavenging, dressed like a rodent.  Good night!

So I work at a thrift shop, which is a job I love, and I really appreciate the incredible discount employees get.  But I am determined not to go overboard with it.  Or collect a bunch of stuff I don’t need because it was so cheap-prices are great even without the employee discount.  Or to buy friends a bunch of stuff they don’t need.  So to that end and to document some of the quirky stuff that comes through the store, I am starting this running list.

Sheri, who loves coffee and sometimes cookies, and emphatically does not like kitchen clutter, does not need a ceramic cookie jar shaped like an electric coffee maker. Someone bought that. (added 4/9, no it’s still there, it just got moved.)

Lizzie, who lived briefly in Kansas, and probably misses it, does not need a little picture that says Kansas, with each letter made out of something (the yellow brick road, sunflowers, corn, etc.) Someone bought that, too.

Jennifer, who is from Kentucky, does not need any one of the 4 or 5  posters advertising the (I think 2002) Kentucky State Fair.  Someone bought all of them.  They were pretty cute, especially the pigs on the roller coaster, and the sheep with the shape of Kentucky sheared out of it’s wool.

Andy, who thinks Noah’s Ark is a terrible story of a wrathful God, does not need as a gag gift any of the large number of Noah’s Ark related items that come in.  I think so far I’ve seen a cookie jar, a windchime, a painting and a throw blanket, all bought.

Adrien, who works for the Michigan State University (mascot, the Spartan) Student Housing Cooperative in East Lansing and who is partial to olives, needs neither Spartan cuff links, nor a non-descript gray t-shirt that says 3 Olive Vodka Company, East Lansing.  (I assume someone bought this, I can’t find it anymore.)

Gaia, who is a nurse practitioner and very handy, does not need any vintage nursing texts or repair manuals.  Someone bought the nursing text for her mom, who’s a nurse.  The repair manuals and books of logarithm tables and slide rules and such come and go.

My sister the lawyer does not need a big red button that says “I love lawyers.”  Someone bought this.

I was so happy this past Saturday when someone bought the sign that says, “Come on in.  Everything else has gone wrong.”

The thing I a little bit regret is the unicorn horn.  It was so beautiful.  I picked it up, not knowing what it was.  It was a white unicorn horn on a headband, with 2 pink-lined white ears, and a mane made of alternating pink and white fake feather boa strands.  Leslie, one of the managers said, “that’s not just a unicorn, that’s a princess unicorn.”  I knew I didn’t need it, but I wanted it.  Employees don’t shop till the end of our shift, so I thought, I’ll put it on, and if anyone wants to buy it, I’ll sell it to them.  I even safety-pinned a little sign to my shirt that said something like, “horn is for sale.”  2 people came in separately and commented on it.  I asked both of them if they wanted it, and they both said something about it looking ‘fabulous’ on me.  Then I was checking a woman out, and she said, “I like your hat.”  I asked if she wanted it, and she said her granddaughter would love it.  So I sold it to her.  And I don’t really regret that.  Because after all, the most important thing is to cherish one’s inner unicorn.  Sharing nurtures the inner unicorn.  Hoarding does not.  If another unicorn horn happens through the shop, I will do the same thing, put it on, and see if anyone else wants it.  But if no one does, I will make it mine.

I put on the mouse ears while working at the register, and also a sign that said,’ears for sale’ and no one wanted them.  So now I have a pair of mouse ears, and they are infinitely cooler than Mickey Mouse ears.  For one thing, they are covered with silky black fur, and for another, the insides are lined with silver sequins.

More to come….

I am not remotely tempted to buy the chicken-dance-singing chicken, but it is so odd it deserves some comment.  Small, fluffy chicken with a pink hat that says, ‘let’s have some fun,’ and then dances all around and sings the chicken dance song.  The creepy thing is that it’s eyes blink on and off (red).  It was especially creepy when Leslie showed it to me in the backroom in the dark (we were on our way out).

I have this fantasy of a spoof of the Child’s Play movies (the ones with Chucky, the evil doll) only with the evil chicken-dance-chicken.  The backstory on the Child’s Play movies is that as this malevolent old man was dying, he put his soul in the doll.  I think an angry vegetarian sorcerer should fill the chicken with the souls of factory farmed chickens, eager for revenge on humankind.  Imagine it skipping down the hall, wielding a big butcher knife and singing the chicken dance song.

There was a little book of cartoons called Cats are Better than Dogs, or maybe Why Cats are Better than Dogs.  I disagree, by the way, but it was funny.  It included the line about dogs come when you call, cats take a message and get back to you.  All the cats in the book were shifty-eyed, and all the dogs had open, loving faces.  At the end, it said, “Dogs know that life is ruff, ruff.  Cats don’t care about life, just about themselves.  That’s why they say me-ow.”  She’s gone now, but my cat often sits on a chair or on the couch near me while I work at the computer.  She doesn’t try to climb on my lap or on the computer table, just sits near me.  I feel very loved, and not crowded.

Added 4/9/2009: And speaking of the cat, Porkchop is in some ways a princess cat.  She likes her drinking water clean, and will sit by the dish and look sad if there are floaties in it.  She can be very lovey, but if I try to pet her when she’s not in the mood, to quote Bruce, she “give[s] me a look like I’m way out of bounds.”  She has little patience with dog curiousity or playfullness, and she has only gradually warmed up to other cats and dogs she’s lived with.  So when I saw the matching purse and tote bag with the cat in a sparkling tierra, it totally made me think of Porkchop.  And one can always use another tote bag, right?  But I resisted.  Besides, why is it almost always a white cat that’s depicted as a princess?  There are stripey princesses, too.  Also, black, marmalade, gray, etc.

And so far I have resisted Easter things galore.  I am a little embarrassed that I was so tempted by the fairly large (12″ in the longest direction, she long, and he tall) ceramic bride and groom rabbits.  But I resisted.  Someone came up to the counter to buy the bride, and I said, “you’re leaving the groom?” They were priced separately.  She said, “oh is that what they are?” And then she did buy the groom. Wouldn’t it be sad to be the left-at-the-thrift store groom ceramic rabbit?

I am also proud to say that I took my black bunny ears back.  I can wear my black, sequined mouse ears for those occasions that require fancier ears.

This isn’t really a post, I just decided that I want to keep track of the greetings and promotions from Greta’s that I put on my voicemail.  Maybe it will help me be more creative and it’s fun to keep track.

December 2008-Jan. 2009: Something about reduced price on wash and mousse.

Early 2009: Snow, ice and salt are rough on a groundhog’s paws.  Stop in for a tub of our all natural paw salve.  (roughly)

Starting early March 2009: 9 out of 10 groundhogs choose a groomed mate over an ungroomed one.  Call today to schedule an appointment and give your groundhog the competitive advantage this mating season.

So there is a joke about this man whose life is falling apart (and one can elaborate at length) and he’s sitting at his desk with a gun in his mouth, and he hears a little voice that says, “cheer up.  Things could be worse.”  So he cheered up, and sure enough, things got worse.

2 weeks ago Sheri and I did a 4-day fast in solidarity with people in Gaza.  We meant to do lots of publicity, but we didn’t really, though we had some good conversations with people.

This is just one account from Gaza about the dire humanitarian situation before Israel’s most recent assault.

From the father of a friend of a friend.

 November 2008

Anyone who is monitoring the quality of life in the Gaza Strip, which has been living under a tightened 18-month siege, will be shocked by the catastrophic humanitarian situation. Unemployment rate has risen to 80% and the majority of the population is living far below the poverty line with one or two dollars a day. As a concerned medical professional, I would like to draw your attention to some harsh aspects of life for the civilian population in Gaza:

 First: There are tremendous health problems, which threaten people with either death or life-long disability. There is a severe shortage in medicine and medical equipment. Hospital maintenance and upgrades for X-Ray rooms, labs, pharmacies and operating rooms are desperately in need of attention. People with chronic and serious illnesses such as cancer or diabetes do not stand a chance for recovery or receiving the appropriate treatment. The number of deaths due to inability to receive medical treatment is 257 since June of 2007. Many seniors and children with chronic illnesses such as two-year old Said Al-Ayidy, three-month old Hala Zannoun, fifteen-year old Rawan Nassar and numerous others died because they were denied travel permits for treatment and were simply left to die.

  Hospitals in Gaza are anything but what hospitals should look like. Daily power cuts for long hours have caused immense suffering, especially to patients whose lives depend on medical machinery. Hospitals used gas-powered generators as substitutes. Yet, due to the lack of gas and diesel, the generators no longer served their purpose and the problem escalated.  Sadly, the only opportunity that patients with serious diseases have is to be transferred either to Egypt or Israel. Often, it is extremely complicated and near to impossible to obtain permission to be transferred to either country. Many are barred from even considering treatment outside of Gaza except for a few urgent cases. Many patients have died while waiting for the official documents to be issued; others have died on their way to Israel or Egypt. Hospitals have been turned into places where patients sleep for several days without any healing or proper treatment due to the absence of drugs and medical equipment. Such supplies are not allowed to cross into Gaza from the commercial border points due to Israeli closure of such borders.  

Second: We face another serious problem: sewage and pollution. We live in a densely populated area. The people of Gaza live in poor shanty towns, refugee camps, and crowded neighborhoods, which share fragile and inadequate infrastructure. Lack of fuel supply stops the water pumps that deal with the treatment and sanitation of sewage water. The only solution that the city has is to drain the sewer water into the Mediterranean. As a result, the beaches have been polluted and the fishing season has been significantly damaged.

On rainy winter days, the streets and homes are flooded with water and the already bumpy and unpaved roads become even worse. Sewer pipes often burst and get damaged due to inadequate infrastructure and lack of maintenance and repair. Dirty and toxic water is flooding out from broken pipes into streets and homes. In some refugee camps, the floods were so severe that people were forced to assemble primitive boats and flow over the water. In Jabalia refugee camp, where I work as a physician in a United Nations clinic, people have increasingly reported illnesses and sickness due to exposure to toxic air and chemical wastes.

Water has been flooding our backyard for days. The city public works department is unable to fix the problem because there are no construction materials to replace the damaged utilities. Heavy machinery does not have fuel to operate. We cannot open any windows and we are breathing toxic waste for days until sunny days come around to dry out everything. Streets are covered with mud, pebbles and sharp stones that are hazardous. The city departments are unable to fix any problems because they simply do not have any resources.

Finally, there are numerous problems that face our impoverished war-torn and isolated society, especially our damaged and disabled infrastructures. I did not mention the numerous shortages in food, goods and services, cash and other basic needs because I wanted to point out the health issues, which I am most familiar with as a medical professional. There is a need for urgent help from the international community. Former United States President Jimmy Carter described the siege that Gaza is enduring as a “crime against human rights.”

Can you imagine living like this?

 Sincerely
F.M.A (Gaza City, Palestine)  U.N. Medical Officer

And now.  Day 6 of Israel’s assault by air, sea and land, and Israel is massing troops along the border with Gaza and talking about invasion.  Numbers vary based on the source, but around 400 Palestinians killed, 2,000 injured, and 4 Israelis killed.  Again, depending on the source, one quarter to one third of Palestinians killed are civilians.  Mosques destroyed, 100 homes destroyed and thousands damaged.  Today Israel targeted and killed Nizzar Rayyan, a leader in Hamas, killing at least 8 civilians, including several of Rayyan’s wives and children in the process.  

Lots of things in this world are complicated.  There are times that people have acted on the best information and with the best motives and made situations worse.  And I surely don’t know what the best resolution of the Palestine/Israel question is.  One state?  Two states?, etc, etc.  But the suffering in Gaza is created by Israel, and being re-created every day.  People in Gaza were hungry, unable to get sufficient medical care, without electricity and clean water because Israel refused to let necessary humanitarian aid into Gaza.  People are being killed and injured, and the already fragile infrastructure is being destroyed, by Israeli missile strikes.  

So pressure must be put on Israel to stop this horror.  And those of us who live in the United States must pressure our government to stop funding and supporting it.  Every time I hear people (organizations, governments) calling for ‘an end to violence on both sides’ I want to scream? vomit? break things?  I’m not sure.  

According to the BBC, in 2007, 783 rockets were launched from Gaza into Israel, and 2 Israelis were killed by rockets.  And between 2000 and Jan. 2008, a total of 13 Israelis have been killed by rockets fired from Gaza.  Here is the link to that article:  http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/middle_east/3702088.stm.  

13 Israelis killed by rockets in 7 years, compared to 400 residents of Gaza killed in the last 6 days.  All life is valuable, every death by violence is a tragedy, but to talk about ‘both sides’ as if either power or suffering were equal is ridiculous.  

It is late.  I am not making such good sense.  But here is a closing thought.  In the United States, we can’t or won’t find the money to rebuild our own crumbling infrastructure or prevent people from being foreclosed on.  Yet we find the money to support Israel’s destruction of Gaza’s infrastructure and civilian homes, not to mention Israel’s murder of Gaza’s residents.  

Some good sources of info:

http://www.gazatoday.blogspot.com/

http://electronicintifada.net/

http://www.alternet.org/audits/113143/israel%27s_%27crime_against_humanity%27/

So it’s the day after the election, and there are so many things I am thinking about.  I am so relieved that Obama won.  I live with a friend and her eight-year old daughter.  The day before the election, my friend said something about the polls opening at 7 am.  Her daughter thought she said the pool opened at 7, and thought that was weird.  I said the polls open at 7 on election day, and if McCain wins, the pool will open at 7 am the day after the election, and we can all go drown ourselves.  

I want to believe everything Obama says about change, and how can I not be moved by Jesse Jackson in tears, or a story, that Sheri put on her blog about a 109-year-old woman in Texas, whose father was a slave, who was so thrilled to turn in her absentee ballot for Obama.  Or a thousand other stories.  Sheri’s racially mixed, basically low-income, and usually-having-little-street-life-neighborhood, erupting with joy and hugs and conversations between strangers last night.  (I am not Sarah Palin and I know these last 2 are not full sentences )

But I also keep thinking about the article someone forwarded me from Counterpunch that said something to the effect of how can it be anti-racist to vote for a black man who supports the same old racist, imperialist policies.  Or the Z Magazine interview with Rosa Clemente, who was the Green Party candidate for Vice President, and works with Critical Resistance, an amazing looking prison-abolition group.  She talked about 3 out of 10 African American men in this country being in prison, on parole or on probation.  And 1 in 8 Latino men are in the same situation.  How prisoners, overwhelmingly black and urban, are counted in the census as living in the communities where they are imprisoned, overwhelmingly white and rural.  This increases the rural communities’ populations and decreases the urban communities’ populations, and congressional districts are drawn accordingly.  And so many related issues.  Police brutality, the war on drugs as a war on the poor, prison labor, etc, etc.  And where was this in Obama’s campaign?  

And yet, and yet.  I am so glad that Obama included a ‘planet in peril’ as one of the challenges his administration faces.  We are having 3 in a row 70 degree days in Michigan, and all around town so many trees look sick, and I am scared.  (Part of my freak-out is selfish.  I like the coming of cold weather, and while not dependent on it like the polar bears, I feel all out of sorts when it’s this late and still warm.  Out of sorts and wanting to run around like Chicken Little).  

I also have the same icky sort of feeling about the electionthat I had in school when I didn’t study or didn’t study well for a test and then did pretty well.  That something good happened, but as I didn’t earn it, I didn’t have the same right to celebrate as all the people who worked hard.  So many people worked so hard for Obama and I did nothing and I’m so glad he won, but I know I didn’t do my part, except for voting.  If I were working like a maniac at some other cause, I would feel better, because I know that no one can do everything, and I would be doing my part to make the world a better place.  But right now I don’t think I’m doing that.  I miss my days of being an activist, of being really involved in Amnesty International on campus, or with local groups working to close the School of the Americas or end sanctions on Iraq.  But when I’m honest with myself, I don’t think I accomplished that much.  I think I ran around like a maniac and gave this great impression of activity, but with relatively little result.  And I was all frenetic, ungrounded and with too much ego invested in everything.  

So I want to get back involved.  And I’m not sure what/where.  There are so many things that I’m interested in and think are so crucial: (while I’m sitting here stressing about what to do, the ice caps are melting and 2 million people are rotting in US prisons, etc,etc,) Criminal justice system reform, closing Guantanamo, closing the School of the Americas, getting all US troops out of Iraq and Afghanistan (and everywhere else, really) environmental justice, climate change, Palestine solidarity, labor solidarity, health care reform, something nice and simple like volunteering at the food co-op (but which one?? Ann Arbor or Ypsilanti) or the cat shelter.  So with all these choices, I do nothing, and feel useless and overwhelmed, and collect bottles by the side of the road.  (There are a lot of bottles).  And there are vibes in some groups that I really don’t like.  But I don’t want to use that as an excuse.  I think I’m altogether too much like the Simon and Garfunkel song ‘Hazy Shade of Winter’:  ’Time, time, time, see what’s become of me, while I looked around for my possibilities.  I was so hard to please.’  

I want to get involved in something that I can sink my teeth into and wrestle, like a terrier.  Speaking of too much ego, this post was supposed to be about the election, and has ended up being all about me.  Oh well.

Good news is that I am typing this two-handed, with the approval of the orthopedic surgeon, and without a cast.  It came off today, and the staples came out of my arm.  I go back in three weeks, and will probably get an x-ray to see how it’s healing.  Being as I have 2 plates in my arm, I don’t need a cast to stabilize it.  I am not supposed to lift things.  I asked about a tea kettle with water in it, and he said no, but a coffee cup with coffee in it would be okay.  Then he said something like, ‘activities of daily living.’  Now I would consider lifting a tea kettle as activities of daily living, but hey.  My arm looks ghoulish, a gash on each side with steri-strips over it, and marks from where the staples were.  Also, shiny, peeling skin on top of my arm, a few weird bruises, and a mark from where my ulna came out through my skin.   It’s sore, and typing kind of hurts.  But still, so nice to be liberated from the cast.  Also, I can get my arm wet, which is great.

The bad news is how little progress I have made on my lair.  Tonight, tonight, work, work.

 It will take me a little bit to write this as I am typing with one hand.  I broke my arm two weeks ago yesterday. I’m right-handed, and of course I broke my right arm.  I figure there is just no point in breaking one’s non-dominant arm. Unless of course, one breaks both.  And someone who saw my arm told me that one summer she broke one arm, and that October she broke the other one.  That just sucks.  

But anyway.  I was just trying to explain why this will take a while.  (I did try doing it 2-handed, but it hurt. I see the orthopedic surgeon tomorrow for follow-up, I can see what he thinks about typing.)  On the other hand (both figuratively and literally), maybe being more focused/hung up  on my typing will loosen up my writing, which is a big part of why I wanted to have a blog.  I used to love writing, and would like to be able to do it with less drama than I usually make of it.

I have not been posting anywhere as much as I want to be, and it’s interesting that now that it’s a little harder, I’m doing it.  And it’s a good lesson in not procrastinating,because whatever I’m struggling to do now might end up being harder later.  My next task is to clean my room, which is really a substantial corner of a larger room.  I have wanted to get organized since, oh, June, when I moved in.  And that really would be much easier with two arms.  And I kept finding excuses not to do it when I had no physical reasons to make it more difficult.  

But now I really want it done.  It’s Tuesday, and I have a friend coming to spend Friday night.  A friend who knows my long history of struggling against chaos, and who is pretty neat.  So it would be great to show off a neat space. And the thing is that I like neat, too.  

But I don’t want a neat room.  I want a neat lair.  I am thinking in part of the spaces, studios, houses, apartments, whatever,  that serial killers on tv dramas have.  Spaces that reflect their obsession, but are also functional.  And functional for their particular needs.  The Ice Truck Killer on Dexter has a very stripped down apartment, but he has a walk-in industrial freezer for dissecting and storing bodies.  And a very good security system.

I want to find ways to decorate with some of the functional and semi-functional things I have.  I have several jars of beads and buttons that I use for sewing or crafts, and I’d like to set up those jars so they add to the decor.  I like hanging and dangly things, and I have more stuff than I really have room for, so I’m trying to hang pretty bags from the ceiling and use those for storage.  I need to find better ways to accommodate things in progress, such as sewing projects and things awaiting a trip to the thrift store or recycling station.  Okay, enough writing about it, time to go do.  More later….

I have to get up early an do a whole bunch of things, so I am not going to stay up late.  I haven’t eaten any potato chips since my last post, but I have played some solitaire, especially one night when I really wanted potato chips. I played a bunch of solitaire to keep me from thinking about potato chips.  Is that progress?  Substituting one addictive behavior for another?    I realized that another reason I want to stop eating potato chips is that they are the only salt snack food that I think about or crave when they are not there.  I like Doritos for example, but if I am home with no Doritos, it’s really rare that I’ll start thinking, oh I want Doritos.    

I was being good about not eating after 9 pm, too.  Last night I had a bit of a frustrating time at work, and I said to myself on the way home from work, ‘Self, just because this was a frustrating night, this does not mean that I will go home and eat.’ But then I got home and there was the cheese on the counter, and I had a bite, and then another bite, and then I finished it, and then I ate the rest of the soy ice cream in the freezer.  Ugh.

So tonight I got off work a little after 9 pm.  I had eaten a few bites of hummus at work after 9, but not very much.  I came home and put out the garbage and watered flowers, and kept thinking about sour cream and onion potato chips.  It is nice to have a party store within easy walking distance, and I walked over to it, and walked around and around.  They didn’t seem to have the right kind sour cream and onion potato chips (ridged as opposed to flat).  I thought about getting some ranch flavor Munchies (containing Doritos, pretzels, sun chips and something else).  I thought about getting some hot dogs, but meat is dead, and didn’t get that way in a good way, and besides meat is so environmentally intensive, and at 13 I had the courage of my convictions about not eating meat, and I want to get back in the veggie groove.  I thought about getting some canned salmon.  And then I thought that I really want to be better about not eating after 9, and a few bites of hummus, well taboule too, don’t mean that the whole plan is ruined, and that I should come home and eat like a pig.  So I got a four-pack of Kahlua Mudslides, and came home and had two.  Well, actually I had one on the way home, in violation of Ann Arbor’s open bottle law.   So I both kept to my plan (coz drinking after 9 is ok), and get to feel a little naughty, as opposed to feeling like a goody-two-shoes, which makes it harder to stick with the plan.  Coz I hate feeling like a goody-two-shoes, and it makes me want to rebel.

Tomorrow, up early, and productive.  Maybe I will write about how I want a lair….