It's 4:30 in the morning and my future husband lays in bed, the wind sounding like two stroke engine through his nose as he cuddles a pillow for warmth, since my greedy ass stole the blankets last night. I have been awake over an hour already, had two coffees, done laundry and picked out my outfit for meeting my mother today.
Last night in a fit of 'I just did all the damn dishes' and 'what can I cook that's quick and delicious and warm' and ended up with.. well.. pancakes. Fuck it, I'm an adult. I can have pancakes for dinner. It's not like my body is going to get fat on the carbs, am I right? Might as well get away with it in my 20s while I still can. (Yes, it's the pancakes that'll make me fat. Not the 4 tablespoons of butter, whipped cream or handmade half-sugar jam that'll do it. Yep, the whole-wheat pancakes. Those will make me fat. Logic.)
So once more the house is spotless. Like, insanely spotless. Everything has a place. Every last object in my home has a home. I know where the tiniest thing is. 6 pairs of scissors by the way, not counting my pinking shears. And the spiders were coming from inside the couch. Just thought I'd update that.
Since everything had to have a place, I went through my pantry again last night to take stock. It looks utterly fantastic. There's something about a stocked pantry that I can sit in front of for hours and just sigh about. Happy sighs, of course. I found some ingredients I had forgotten I had - dates and coconut, mostly. But also some jams and fruit I had jarred and forgotten about. Delicious!
Food is so fantastically good. I love eating and sneaking and raiding. I have gorgeous home-dried strawberries and leaves for tea and I sneak the dried berries out now and again. Same with my jar of dried sugary (well, no, agavey) rhubarb sticks I made one week.
4:37. I write quickly. I'm bored and I have 1 1/2 hours to do my makeup before I have to leave to spend an unholy amount on short-term parking at the airport.
I eventually got the flowers.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Jitters
My wedding is in a little over a week and I'm getting anxious and excited. The vows are written, the shoes are in their box tied with ribbon, the veil is sitting on the petticoat, the tailor has our outfits, the rings are bought, the glasses are rented and life is moving along swimmingly.
As per usual, I'm cleaning a lot. This is really nothing new in the daily life of me, but I did all those niggly things I've been meaning to do for over a year now. You know, where you find out just how many scissors you really have and finally realize, shit, that's where the spiders are coming from.
Ohp! And there I just got a delivery of a nice hardbound handmade recycled diary/planner I got for the new year! I specifically got November included just for the wedding, too. Perfect! I had it made with extra long Fri-Sun and short Mon-Thurs because that's how I roll when I work. Needed space for addresses of jobs and all that.
But anyway... I'm being ultra-organized. Obviously. Everything has a place. And everything is in it's place. It's amazing. There is literally nothing out of place in my house. Not a single thing. Except maybe me. I smell like something that walked out of a zombie festival for brains. I don't know what that smells like but I reckon not good. I don't know, someone can tell me someday I'm sure.
So. 9 days until my wedding. 1 day until my mother arives. 2 more days of work until I get married. $1100 left owing. Breathe Liz. Breathe.
Shit I forgot flowers.
As per usual, I'm cleaning a lot. This is really nothing new in the daily life of me, but I did all those niggly things I've been meaning to do for over a year now. You know, where you find out just how many scissors you really have and finally realize, shit, that's where the spiders are coming from.
Ohp! And there I just got a delivery of a nice hardbound handmade recycled diary/planner I got for the new year! I specifically got November included just for the wedding, too. Perfect! I had it made with extra long Fri-Sun and short Mon-Thurs because that's how I roll when I work. Needed space for addresses of jobs and all that.
But anyway... I'm being ultra-organized. Obviously. Everything has a place. And everything is in it's place. It's amazing. There is literally nothing out of place in my house. Not a single thing. Except maybe me. I smell like something that walked out of a zombie festival for brains. I don't know what that smells like but I reckon not good. I don't know, someone can tell me someday I'm sure.
So. 9 days until my wedding. 1 day until my mother arives. 2 more days of work until I get married. $1100 left owing. Breathe Liz. Breathe.
Shit I forgot flowers.
Monday, October 25, 2010
How to Not Hatch An Egg
Life is good. I am very happy. Things are going well. Well, except for the fucking eggs.
We lost some eggs in the rains, but it's alright. We did the best we could but they just never hatched. The silkies appear to be doing well, but we'll see in another two weeks or so. I appear to not be so great at this egg hatching thing. It's a learned skill.
It's actually quite a bit more difficult than you think, egg hatching. First your chicken must be broody for it to sit on eggs or you need a pretty reliable incubator. Oh boy does it suck when it unreliables on you. And did you know your chicken can destroy the nest, eat her own eggs (yes, she ate one), hide some eggs entirely from you and then just walk away from nearly hatching babies and let them all die? Yeah well, I didn't either.
So I spent a good day spazzing around trying to fashion a heat box out of an ice box (sorry mother, I owe you another one) and manage the heat to a nice 100F, which is a good middle ground. Later on, you have to start switching shit up.
Oh and you have to turn the eggs. Like, 3-5 times a day and each night the egg has to be facing a different direction upwards. Or the chicken will not form properly and die. If the temperature goes to 102, the chicken will overheat and die. If the temperature goes to 98, the chicken will cool too much and die. If the humidity goes too high, the chicken will stick to the shell and die. If the humidity is too low the chicken can't break through the egg and will die. If you turn the egg after 18 days, the chicken will die. If you bump the egg a little too hard, the chicken will die. All of these are variable, as well. If you turn up the heat you might just get 5 retard-o chickens with gimpy wings.
And I had to learn all of this in about, oh, five freaking minutes. When I realized my stupid chicken had destroyed her nest and my second chicken had just up and decided not to be clucky afterall. You know, the day after I ordered a further 9 eggs. Thanks, assholes.
But then you have to candle the eggs. But not after the 18th day! That'll....make them die. Oh, and if you candle them with the air-pocket face down, they might die. So you must always candle with the big end of the egg up. Which is harder than doing it with the big end of the egg down. Brown eggs are just a bitch and blue eggs just make you wanna rip your hair out. Duck eggs are surprisingly easy.
Anyway you get a super bright light and a super dark room and hold the light up to the egg and move it around (gently!) until you find your baby.
This is kinda when I realized my chickens had been dead for days. There were bad rains and we think that's why the hen destroyed her nest. Or maybe I killed them. Or maybe they commited suicide for no reason. Oh yeah, no, one egg did do that. One egg of all 8 made it to 21 days and then... just decided not to hatch. It broke into the air sack, but nope, it just went, "Yeah okay that's good," and killed itself. Fucking chickens.
So it's day 26, 5 days overdue (too high of heat can also make them early and too low can make them hatch late) and that's too many, so the eggs went in the bin. Candled the silki eggs and they're living. One duck egg wasn't fertilized and another duck egg is growing a little duckers. It's about the size of my pinky nail right now, with a bunch of little veins coming off of it. It's a Silver Swedish duck, so it should be ready in 27 more days.
We're buying an incubator (proper one) after the wedding. I've gotten this heat/humidity thing down, but I'd just feel a lot safer around suicidal eggs if I had one. And to think, there's women out there who've hatched a dozen eggs in their boobs. No joke. Next time, I'm hiring my friend cAt to be my hen.
Current Score:
0/8 eggs hatched
9 silkie eggs incubating
1 duck egg incubating
We lost some eggs in the rains, but it's alright. We did the best we could but they just never hatched. The silkies appear to be doing well, but we'll see in another two weeks or so. I appear to not be so great at this egg hatching thing. It's a learned skill.
It's actually quite a bit more difficult than you think, egg hatching. First your chicken must be broody for it to sit on eggs or you need a pretty reliable incubator. Oh boy does it suck when it unreliables on you. And did you know your chicken can destroy the nest, eat her own eggs (yes, she ate one), hide some eggs entirely from you and then just walk away from nearly hatching babies and let them all die? Yeah well, I didn't either.
So I spent a good day spazzing around trying to fashion a heat box out of an ice box (sorry mother, I owe you another one) and manage the heat to a nice 100F, which is a good middle ground. Later on, you have to start switching shit up.
Oh and you have to turn the eggs. Like, 3-5 times a day and each night the egg has to be facing a different direction upwards. Or the chicken will not form properly and die. If the temperature goes to 102, the chicken will overheat and die. If the temperature goes to 98, the chicken will cool too much and die. If the humidity goes too high, the chicken will stick to the shell and die. If the humidity is too low the chicken can't break through the egg and will die. If you turn the egg after 18 days, the chicken will die. If you bump the egg a little too hard, the chicken will die. All of these are variable, as well. If you turn up the heat you might just get 5 retard-o chickens with gimpy wings.
And I had to learn all of this in about, oh, five freaking minutes. When I realized my stupid chicken had destroyed her nest and my second chicken had just up and decided not to be clucky afterall. You know, the day after I ordered a further 9 eggs. Thanks, assholes.
But then you have to candle the eggs. But not after the 18th day! That'll....make them die. Oh, and if you candle them with the air-pocket face down, they might die. So you must always candle with the big end of the egg up. Which is harder than doing it with the big end of the egg down. Brown eggs are just a bitch and blue eggs just make you wanna rip your hair out. Duck eggs are surprisingly easy.
Anyway you get a super bright light and a super dark room and hold the light up to the egg and move it around (gently!) until you find your baby.
This is kinda when I realized my chickens had been dead for days. There were bad rains and we think that's why the hen destroyed her nest. Or maybe I killed them. Or maybe they commited suicide for no reason. Oh yeah, no, one egg did do that. One egg of all 8 made it to 21 days and then... just decided not to hatch. It broke into the air sack, but nope, it just went, "Yeah okay that's good," and killed itself. Fucking chickens.
So it's day 26, 5 days overdue (too high of heat can also make them early and too low can make them hatch late) and that's too many, so the eggs went in the bin. Candled the silki eggs and they're living. One duck egg wasn't fertilized and another duck egg is growing a little duckers. It's about the size of my pinky nail right now, with a bunch of little veins coming off of it. It's a Silver Swedish duck, so it should be ready in 27 more days.
We're buying an incubator (proper one) after the wedding. I've gotten this heat/humidity thing down, but I'd just feel a lot safer around suicidal eggs if I had one. And to think, there's women out there who've hatched a dozen eggs in their boobs. No joke. Next time, I'm hiring my friend cAt to be my hen.
Current Score:
0/8 eggs hatched
9 silkie eggs incubating
1 duck egg incubating
Thursday, October 21, 2010
It Must Suck to Be A Man
I am probably going to alienate my female counterparts with this statement but I gotta say; I am so glad I'm a woman. I've started to really pay attention to men and I gotta say, it really isn't all it's cracked up to be.
First off, men's self esteems have got to be going down the toilet these days. Hey I'm all for female empowerment but this attitude of, "Ha we can make babies without you, we don't even need you for that!" is, well, not really going to inspire confidence in someone. I don't see why, in order to climb the ladder, we have to put others down. Is it really fair to put the men below us after all these years working for equality?
My partner is supposed to take pretty cruel insults as a joke. Jokes about weight, penis size, intelligence... every day, from everyone. Men and women included. As a woman, I don't have to deal with this. I don't regularly get insulted for my genitalia. How would a woman feel if as an every day joke we said to her, "Oh you drive an XR8? SOMEONE must have the biggest pussy!" You'd probably get slapped. Though if a man slapped you for the comment, he'd get arrested.
Constantly being berated and humiliated and told you're worthless aside - men also have a harder time in social situations, in my opinion. The male interaction 'rules' are just as complicated as women's PLUS they have to deal with women's! Women don't have to learn men's social constructs, but they sure as hell have to learn ours! Which leads to awkward situations when the poor things get it wrong.
It's a man's job to advance on a woman. A woman who could or could not be interested. A woman who could or could not like jokes as an opening. A woman who could or could not have a huge muscular husband around the corner. A woman who could have pepperspray in her handbag and you pray, oh hell you pray, you don't look like a mugger. Or she could just quite possibly shoot you down with a, "Go away jackass." Fantastic, you're a jackass and all you said was hello...
So women insult you and think it's funny. Men insult you and think it's funny. You're a jackass for saying hello. You're a jackass for opening her door. Damnit, you're a jackass for not opening her door. Does anybody compliment you? Does anybody tell you good job? No, not really, because a good job is EXPECTED of you. You're a grown man, you're what everyone compares themselves to (take it like a man) so you can't make mistakes. You can't cry. You can't show emotions. You can't accept compliments if you even get them because the best is expected of you.
Yeah... this is what I think about. How hard it must be to be a man. How hard it must be to work my ass off 9 hours a day with my hands cracking from the job, my coworkers making small dicks jokes about me, my boss making a joke about how he should pay me less as I wipe the sweat from my brow, the woman who works next door ignores me because I think I stared at her just slightly too long one afternoon when I was thinking about something completely different...then I get to go to the bar to enjoy the one beer I've been waiting for all day when a 'friend' slaps me on the sunburn, makes another small dick joke and when I finally...finally... get home... I could really just use someone who treats me like a human.
And that's why I always make sure to thank him. Thank him for working so hard. Tell him how great he's doing at keeping the house tidy for me. Tell him how great he's doing going to work every day so we can pay for the wedding. I make sure to compliment the fit of his clothes on him, the new haircut he has, and his eyes, though he's heard it a million times. I make sure to tell him he's wonderful. I always try my best to say thank you. Thank you for being there for me. Thank you for cooking tonight. Thank you for wiping the counters. Thank you for going to work today even though you really didn't want to.
Just because they're men it doesn't mean they don't deserve our compassion. It's hard to be us. It's hard to be them. We're both stuck with it - so we might as well be nice to each other and remember, men need to hear their ass looks great in those jeans too.
First off, men's self esteems have got to be going down the toilet these days. Hey I'm all for female empowerment but this attitude of, "Ha we can make babies without you, we don't even need you for that!" is, well, not really going to inspire confidence in someone. I don't see why, in order to climb the ladder, we have to put others down. Is it really fair to put the men below us after all these years working for equality?
My partner is supposed to take pretty cruel insults as a joke. Jokes about weight, penis size, intelligence... every day, from everyone. Men and women included. As a woman, I don't have to deal with this. I don't regularly get insulted for my genitalia. How would a woman feel if as an every day joke we said to her, "Oh you drive an XR8? SOMEONE must have the biggest pussy!" You'd probably get slapped. Though if a man slapped you for the comment, he'd get arrested.
Constantly being berated and humiliated and told you're worthless aside - men also have a harder time in social situations, in my opinion. The male interaction 'rules' are just as complicated as women's PLUS they have to deal with women's! Women don't have to learn men's social constructs, but they sure as hell have to learn ours! Which leads to awkward situations when the poor things get it wrong.
It's a man's job to advance on a woman. A woman who could or could not be interested. A woman who could or could not like jokes as an opening. A woman who could or could not have a huge muscular husband around the corner. A woman who could have pepperspray in her handbag and you pray, oh hell you pray, you don't look like a mugger. Or she could just quite possibly shoot you down with a, "Go away jackass." Fantastic, you're a jackass and all you said was hello...
So women insult you and think it's funny. Men insult you and think it's funny. You're a jackass for saying hello. You're a jackass for opening her door. Damnit, you're a jackass for not opening her door. Does anybody compliment you? Does anybody tell you good job? No, not really, because a good job is EXPECTED of you. You're a grown man, you're what everyone compares themselves to (take it like a man) so you can't make mistakes. You can't cry. You can't show emotions. You can't accept compliments if you even get them because the best is expected of you.
Yeah... this is what I think about. How hard it must be to be a man. How hard it must be to work my ass off 9 hours a day with my hands cracking from the job, my coworkers making small dicks jokes about me, my boss making a joke about how he should pay me less as I wipe the sweat from my brow, the woman who works next door ignores me because I think I stared at her just slightly too long one afternoon when I was thinking about something completely different...then I get to go to the bar to enjoy the one beer I've been waiting for all day when a 'friend' slaps me on the sunburn, makes another small dick joke and when I finally...finally... get home... I could really just use someone who treats me like a human.
And that's why I always make sure to thank him. Thank him for working so hard. Tell him how great he's doing at keeping the house tidy for me. Tell him how great he's doing going to work every day so we can pay for the wedding. I make sure to compliment the fit of his clothes on him, the new haircut he has, and his eyes, though he's heard it a million times. I make sure to tell him he's wonderful. I always try my best to say thank you. Thank you for being there for me. Thank you for cooking tonight. Thank you for wiping the counters. Thank you for going to work today even though you really didn't want to.
Just because they're men it doesn't mean they don't deserve our compassion. It's hard to be us. It's hard to be them. We're both stuck with it - so we might as well be nice to each other and remember, men need to hear their ass looks great in those jeans too.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
I am not Bridezilla.
There is something that needs to be said and I have a place to say it, so I'm going to. I am sick and tired of hearing the word "Bridezilla" being thrown around the second a bride has an opinion. Does that sounds familiar to you? Or does the bitch who also speaks her mind have something to say about it?
Women aren't allowed to complain. They can't be angry that they were charged a $300 for a stained dress and never got a refund. If they do, they're a 'Bridezilla'.
Women aren't allowed to be firm and steadfast. They can't be set on having their wedding under a specific tree because it's slightly out of town. That's unreasonable, 'Bridezilla'.
Women aren't allowed to question the prices of items. Why is a wedding dress $2000 when a prom dress in the same exact style $200? Don't question, just buy it, or you're a 'Bridezilla'.
Women can't be angry. Did one of her guests just ask her to change her entire menu around him a THIRD time, only a week before the wedding after all the supplies were purchased? Nope, if she gets mad and doesn't accomadate him, she's being "such a Bridezilla!".
Oh she's so sensitive because of the wedding. Oh she wants it her way because of the wedding. Better not upset her, she's getting married, she's a Bridezilla! Oh did you hear she's really angry because the caterer served lobster at her Jewish wedding? She shouldn't be such a Bridezilla! I mean, she got the lobster for the price of beef, what is she being such a Bridezilla about? The fact she can't eat it? Fucking Bridezilla.
I'm here to say I'm SICK of it. And for the love of all that is holy, me saying this is ALSO not being a Bridezilla.
Why? Because I KNOW I'm not the only one. I know there's engaged women who feel they can't say a word about how they feel because they might get labelled as being unreasonable women. Bitches without the same word. It's just another thing women can call women to make them feel torn apart and men can call women to excuse "their behaviour" and not take them seriously.
If I WASN'T getting married and someone charged me for a $300 dress that arrived stained and I never got the refund would I be a Bridezilla then? NO. I'd be a reasonable human being, wouldn't I?
If I WASN'T getting married and was having a birthday party under that tree, would I be unreasonable? NO. I'd simply want my party there.
If I WASN'T getting married would I still be expected to pay $2000 for a $200 dress? Nope. I'd be thrifty and smart.
If I WASN'T getting married and someone said to me that the birthday cake I had at my party better be dairy free after I already made it gluten free for the SAME person when they requested it, NOBODY would get mad at me for not making another one, would they!? No. They'd be greatful I went out of my way to make the gluten free cake to BEGIN with.
But no, because I (we!) am (are!) getting married, I'm unreasonable. I'm bitchy. I'm not allowed to complain. I'm not allowed to feel like you're ripping me off and I'm certainly not allowed to tell you you're ripping me off. I'm simply not allowed to stand up for myself.
And that, my friends, is bullshit.
All the brides out there!! STAND UP FOR YOURSELF. Question the $2000 dresses and inlaws that ask you to PAY for their full plane and hotel costs and then book a super expensive hotel!!
Remember to tell them NO you really CAN'T afford to do that and NO you're not being unreasonable in asking them to pick a more reasonable hotel and NO you're not being unreasonable for thinking they should pay their hotel to begin with!
I'm looking at you, father of the bride at that last wedding I went to. You're a jerk. Your daughter? IS NOT A BRIDEZILLA.
You've done your best to accomodate everyone but yourself and yet people keep telling you it's 'your' day. Really? Yours!? Then why are you unreasonable for wanting an unstained dress and a full refund? Why are you unreasonable for buying a black suit and getting a blue one? In the world of NON-WEDDINGS, it's perfectly reasonable to be upset when you spend a lot of money on things and DON'T GET THOSE THINGS.
SO GO. RETURN THAT DRESS. DEMAND THAT REFUND. SAY NO TO LIMOS FOR THE KIDS. SAY NO TO THAT AUNT YOU DON'T EVEN WANT THERE. She's just going to call you a bitch and then ruin your day and make a comment on your dress and you KNOW it. Everyone knows it! But you're a fucking Bridezilla if you don't invite her and spend $200 on her food so she can give you a used toaster an unsolicited advice about your sexual history.
And I know every single bride out there can relate with SOMETHING I have said. I know it. I know you've been told you're being unreasonable. I know you've invited someone you didn't want to because you feared the backlash and how it would make you look. I know you've gotten ripped off on some item for the wedding and were made to feel you couldn't discuss it. Heck, I know you were also probably bait and switched in quality AND price at the very last minute and HAD no choice but to spend $300 more for plastic tables when you ordered wood.
And you know what? I'm done. I'm done accepting it. I'm done not being called names because I HAPPEN to be getting married around the time I am purchasing lots of items or trusting in lots of people. It's not FAIR and it NEEDS to be said.
STOP calling brides Bridezillas when they have an opinion!! You too! I'm not just here on behalf of brides! One of you has DONE it. Remember your wedding? Or if you haven't had one, think about all the tiny details that go into it. Flowers, invites, friends, colours, locations, money, money, money... and you honestly, honestly, can't get TOO upset when she says she can't afford to accomodate a special request from you?
She's probably gotten a special request from EVERYONE and try as she might.. try as she might.. she just can't get to all of them. I'm not saying she's out to purposefully step on your hopes of riding an elephant to the ceremony, but she really honestly just doesn't have large mammal parking, sorry. So don't call her names. Just take the car.
The bride isn't trying to hurt you by having her wedding under that tree, she just really really loves that tree and damnit... you love her, right? So stop complaining and do the ONE thing she asked without calling her names for asking for it! You keep saying you'd give her anything.. so fucking do it!
And that's all I have to say.
- Not a Bitch. Not a Bridezilla. Just Elizabeth. Just me.
Edit: Brides! Future Brides! Faux Bridezilla witnesses! Post your stories here! What happened to you where you were made to feel you couldn't fight back just because you were a bride? What were you forced to put up with for the sake of not being 'difficult'?!
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Win
I'm winning a lot lately. I don't know why or how, but things seem to be rocking into my favour these last couple months. I mean, besides that whole almost dying thing. Perhaps I'm just happier from that? No, no, I am definitely winning more.
Little things; like just barely making every single light on the road, finding that book I always wanted to buy on sale for $2, finding an exact replica of my wedding dress for $800 less than the original, getting to use certain things for free or even getting things for free from people for simply asking, and even managing to get my TV show on the right channel at the right time without even looking at a clock. Even personal goals in my head such as making it to the 1/3rd mark at 1/3rd my estimated time to a destination. As a bonus to that trip I even hit the 1/2 mark at 1/2 my estimated travel time. How win is that!?
I'm finding money, saving money, earning more. I'm getting more for jobs. I somehow managed to grow asparagus from seed. Managing to get the exact to the cm amount of jam for the amount of jars I prepared (come ON that's a serious win!). I've gotten free bags of fruits and vegetables for the chickens and even myself. I was accidentally delivered too many bags of oranges once. I've gotten deals on meat, fruits, vegetables and even fish.
I can't seem to stop winning. It's like the roulette wheel keeps falling on my number over and over. Well, to be fair, I bought a scratchy and lost that, but who cares? I can handle little loses if I keep having a bunch of wins like I have been.
This better continue!
Little things; like just barely making every single light on the road, finding that book I always wanted to buy on sale for $2, finding an exact replica of my wedding dress for $800 less than the original, getting to use certain things for free or even getting things for free from people for simply asking, and even managing to get my TV show on the right channel at the right time without even looking at a clock. Even personal goals in my head such as making it to the 1/3rd mark at 1/3rd my estimated time to a destination. As a bonus to that trip I even hit the 1/2 mark at 1/2 my estimated travel time. How win is that!?
I'm finding money, saving money, earning more. I'm getting more for jobs. I somehow managed to grow asparagus from seed. Managing to get the exact to the cm amount of jam for the amount of jars I prepared (come ON that's a serious win!). I've gotten free bags of fruits and vegetables for the chickens and even myself. I was accidentally delivered too many bags of oranges once. I've gotten deals on meat, fruits, vegetables and even fish.
I can't seem to stop winning. It's like the roulette wheel keeps falling on my number over and over. Well, to be fair, I bought a scratchy and lost that, but who cares? I can handle little loses if I keep having a bunch of wins like I have been.
This better continue!
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