Merry Christmas, dude!

Dear blahg,

Today, on the drive home from Christmas (Eve) Mass, my dad told us about a funny Youtube video he had watched recently and, in the process, quoted a sentence that included both the words "dude" and "condoms." And that is the only present I needed this Christmas. Or ever.

Thank you, Santa!

Vacation. (Of my uterine wall lining. From my uterus.)

This evening I PMS-ed for roughly ninety minutes and then I got my Monthly Confirmation That I Am Indeed Without Child. Can it be like this every month, please? Instead of the weeklong binge-and-cry-fest that usually takes place? But I suspect it may also have had something to do with the fact that my body has been distracted by three straight days of driving, flying, driving, driving, shopping and then more driving to actually realize that it was getting ready for woman time.*

But that is also another way of saying: Hooray for being home for the holidays! I can't wait until I can actually stay in one place without driving 2 to 6 hours everyday. I think that will happen on Friday! But it has been wunderbar so far. I am just about 85% done with my Christmas gift shopping with, like, three days left to go! A-mah-zing.

 Also: Eating meat that isn't flavored with tears and suffering while on vacation has proven to be a slight challenge, but not one that I cannot overcome. Although, eating happy meatstuffs and hippie-dippie organic fare is so much easier in the fantastical, beautiful world of Northern California than it is in Texas, let me tell you. Thus far, I have managed to stay strong through my older brother's breakfast of Longanisa (He asked if I was going to have any. I died inside as I stared longingly at it for ten seconds and responded, "No...I'll have to be happy just smelling it..." SOB!) on Tuesday and my brother in law's chicken cordon bleu tonight.

However.

My mother came to the rescue last night when, after leaving my brother's condo in Santa Clara and battling assorted Bay Area traffic to pick Schmooblebutt from the airport, drive him to his parents' house in Napa and then drive me and BB to Santa Rosa - amounting to six hours in the freaking car - I finally arrived home at 10pm, exhausted and starving, having only eaten the aforementioned granola bar, smoothie, coffee and crackers all day. My dad had made roasted vegetables and chicken for dinner and when I saw it I wept silently and said, "Well...I guess I can have the vegetables." and then my mom said, "Oh! But this is free range chicken from Oliver's!" and then I cranked my jaw open like that cartoon guy from the old Reach toothbrush commercials and dumped all the delicious homemade non-suffering tasting food down my gullet.

The end.

* Although, in hindsight, this probably explains why, en route to picking up Schmoobs at the airport last night, I got confused and frustrated by the directions - or lack thereof - getting from the SFO cellphone lot back to the terminals and had to backtrack along Hwy 101 6pm bottleneck rush hour traffic twice. In tears.

Conversations with Texans.

Vacuum Repair Guy: "Can I have your name?"
Ys: "Ysabel..."
Vacuum Repair Guy: "Okay, that's I-S-A-"
Ys: "Actually it's with a Y. Y-S-A-B-E-L."
Vacuum Repair Guy: "Oh, that's a strange spelling! Never seen that before..."
Ys: "Ha, yeah..."
Vacuum Repair Guy: "Pretty, though."
Ys: "Thanks. Yeah, it's pretty rare I guess."
Vacuum Repair Guy: "And last name?"
Ys: "Sarte. S-A-R-T-E."
Vacuum Repair Guy: "Well, your whole name's just complicated!"
Ys: "Hahaha."
Vacuum Repair Guy: "And your phone number..."
Ys: "8-6-5..."
Vacuum Repair Guy: "Oh...see, that's why. You're not from around here."
Ys: "Yeah...it's actually a Knoxville number..."

***

Meanwhile, BB has developed a nasty and sudden habit of chewing up my shoes in our closet. Specifically the leather or pleather sandals that I have lined up nicely along the back wall because I wear them often. For work. After three years, she has suddenly decided that my most often-worn shoes are a tasty treat. UGH. I went in there one day last week and suddenly found that I was instantly without three pairs of everyday shoes. Blargh! So now I have to make a point of closing the closet door completely so she doesn't go in there for a mid-day snack.

I consulted Googly to try and figure out the problem. The consensus was 1) She is having separation anxiety issues. (Unlikely since I am home writing for pennies way more often than I ever was previously these last three years.) 2) She is having painful medical issues that she is acting out on. (Also unlikely. She does not act at all like a doggie in pain or ill. Normal bouncy BB as per usual.) 3) She is reacting to malnourishment and an insufficient diet. (Quite unlikely. She gets a mixture of wet food, good quality kibble AND pureed pumpkin - to help with the poop eating - everyday.) 4) She is acting out because she is not getting enough attention. (Very very unlikely. Aside from the fact that I work from home a lot now, we also continue to shower her with affection and attention. In fact, Schmoobs doesn't so much shower her as smother her with attention. To the extent that BB will often get fed up and struggle to free herself from his smothering on the couch and go to an empty corner of the couch so she can have some space.)

So what is the deal?! I'm really sick of losing shoes. Luckily, as I told Schmoobs, at least she did it with only one day of classes left in the semester, so I don't really have to worry about getting new work shoes until mid-January.

In the meantime, though, I did have to worry about the instant severe shortage of brown shoes in my wardrobe. But guess what? I scored a pair of super comfortable and cute Kenneth Cole Reaction boots at a consignment store for $7.99 today. I know many people get skeeved out at the prospect of buying used shoes. But these are in great condition and do not show signs of foot crabs or anything (is there such a thing?). Plus, they are Kenneth Cole Reaction boots for $7.99. And at the same time I also got a Coach black belt (sorely needed...I somehow made it the entire semester without wearing my slightly loose-fitting (and only) pair of black slacks once because I do not own a black belt (until now!) for $1.99. Yeah boi.

Consignment stores for the win!

Also, I get to fly home for the holidays in like four days. Wheeee!

Sunday afternoon before Finals Week.

Step 1. Remember that you have to give a Theory final exam at 8am tomorrow morning, so you finish writing up the exam and go to print it out.

Step 2. Realize that your printer is out of ink and won't print out the exam.

Step 3. Resolve that you have to get to Kinko's before it closes. Look up tonight's closing time and learn that it closes inexplicably early on Sundays. WTF? Remember when Kinko's was open 24 hours? And doesn't Kinko's realize that there are plenty of people (ME.) who like to wait until the last possible minute before printing out essential work-related items for Monday?!

Step 4. Pray to the Printer Gods that maybe for some magical reason there is an extra ink cartridge in our paper drawer.

Step 5. Dig through the paper drawer while Schmoobins watches and asks, "Are you hoping you'll find an extra printer cartridge in there?!"

Step 6. FIND MAGICAL EXTRA INK CARTRIDGE IN PAPER DRAWER!

Step 7. Exclaim the wonders of the magic ink cartridge and its magical power to magically manifest itself all because I wished hard enough.

Step 8. Look closer at the magical ink cartridge.

Step 9. Realize that it is not magical at all. Rather, it is an OLD USELESS ink cartridge that SOMEBODY (Schmoobins!!!!!!) had put back in its original packaging and threw back in the paper drawer last time we replaced the printer ink instead of getting rid of it like a normal person.

Step 10. Throw a fit and curse the stupid fake non-magical ink cartridge while you throw multiple empty useless printer ink cartridges violently on the floor.

Step 11. Resolve to have to go to Kinko's after all. Harumph.

Step 12. Realize that you have another final exam on Wednesday that you will have to print out as well.

Step 13. Tell Schmoobs that you are just going to go to Target and get a new printer cartridge instead of going to Kinko's.

Step 14. Go to Target to buy a new ink cartridge. Resist the urge to buy new lipgloss, mascara, scarf, gloves, kettle chips, toffee peanuts, etc.

Step 15. Come home and put new ink cartridge in printer.

Step 16. Printer still refuses to print final exam.

Step 17. Try to print exam twenty zillion more times with no success. Stupid printer keeps spitting out blank pieces of paper. Call printer multitude of nasty names in order to bully it into working. Not successful.

Step 18. Give up.

Step 19. Figure out exactly how early I have to wake up in order to get to work extra extra early to find a working printer, make final touches on exam, make copies and be in classroom at 8.

Step 20. Blurgh.

Huh. I thought for sure I'd end up being something small that liked to bite things out of spite.

From the book of Revelations.

(Is that a sacrilegious title? I'm not sure.)

As I sit here taking a break from work on this gloriously gray and gloomy Friday to type out this post, I stop for a moment to realize that I am in the midst of four different writing projects, heading into the final week of classes this semester on my fourth year of teaching music courses at a university, just finished practicing both piano and the devil stick and on my third day freelance copywriting for a new company that - Praise Jeebus Hallelujah! (is that sacrilegious??) - is earning me a bit more per client. And the thing is? I kind of like it. Operative words being "kind of." At least I actually am enjoying today more than I thought I would ever enjoy the lifestyle afforded me by my massive adjunct salary at the end of last year.

This new copywriting company has placed me initially at a very high writer level (yay) which means that I am privy to clients that are willing to pay more for copy that is more interesting and enjoyable to write. In fact, the first two clients I submitted copy to accepted it with no revision requests and apparently placed me on their roster of writers that they would like to specifically request for future projects. So that's nice. Next time you happen upon a company website for Schimmel grand pianos or real estate in the Northern Neck of Virginia, you might be reading my word vomit. Haha.

Maybe I am settling into this helter skelter lifestyle a bit more, and finding ways to become more skilled and comfortable in this existence. And, even while my loins yearn for the kind of stability and salary that come with one 9 to 5 job, maybe I am just destined to be constantly juggling multiple creative jobs and projects all at once. Now all I need is to get at least one of those juggling balls to pay me a decent amount so that I can continue juggling with glee*.

* By "with glee," I mean "without having to ask my computer genius brothers to help me pay for my car insurance every month." Blurgh.