How I want to spend my summer vacation.

It’s hard to believe my temp job is winding down. I have three more full weeks of work, and during the last week I’ll take Friday off to go to my college reunion. I’ll come back on Monday and release my section (something I do every Monday) and then, who knows? I might stay the whole week and get some small task, or they may tell me to hit the road, Jack. I have two paydays left not including the one I get tomorrow. And not including the one I get after I leave, so I guess I should count that one. But still.

How has it been? It’s been good, in a lot of ways. I’ve worked VERY hard (I stayed two hours late last Friday, and I’m not hourly – well, I am but I’m not. Gah, it’s complicated). I feel a sense of accomplishment. Since I left my job at the yarn barn in 2009, I’ve not had that feeling. Barnes and Noble was a gulag, and the annuity firm was so easy I could have done it in my sleep. We won’t count anything after that! I’m doing hard, detail-oriented work and getting paid WHAT I DESERVE. I work in a building where I am not afraid to sit on the toilet seats. Where there’s a full cafeteria with lovely employees and good, nourishing food. I sit at a desk and listen to my iPod while I work all day.

HOWEVER. There’s no denying a lot of the long-time employees are little whinging babies who bitch and moan about everything, all while doing very little work. Some of these people come in at 10 a.m. and leave at 4 p.m. It must be nice to work bankers’ hours, I wouldn’t know. I have worked places where, frankly, the boss stood at the door with a cell phone clock checking that you didn’t walk out ONE MINUTE early. So you’ll understand that I come in at 8:30 everyday and leave after 5 p.m. It’s just how I am.

And there’s also no denying that what I’m doing is putting together the society pages. When I go to my college reunion and everyone asks what I’ve been doing recently and I say, “Oh, putting together the Palm Beach society pages for the paper,” there will be a hush of shock. Even more so than when they found out about the knitting. I am the last person you would think would be doing this. And if I’m being honest, I have a lot of cynicism and contempt for these people and their checkbook charity. Is it misguided? Is it from my natural distaste with authority and dislike for rich white people? Was I just offended with the cover I had to put together with Paris Hilton sitting next to a kitten? Don’t ask. There were so many pussy jokes I could have told, but I zipped it!

But those are my issues. And there’s also the fact that I’m not “the face” of the section. The two pretty younger girls are. So, while I do all the grunt work….well, you get it. But again, I’m getting paid a very good wage. So, what happens next? Do I get called back in the fall? Do I want to? I think I do, if only because I need that money, and working for seven months I’d make as much as I did in a full year at my last steady job. Seriously. But that’s IF. Stay tuned. I just don’t know.

So, I attempt to make it to October on my savings. Which is not much. I am going to give my car to my husband to use for the summer. His is falling apart and guzzles gas like a 1991 Nissan SUV tends to.  If I can have it one day a week, that’s fine – unless I get another temp job…..

Staying at home is what I want to do. I am not antisocial. I am not agoraphobic. But I am a homebody, and an introvert who enjoys being alone. I have a gym here that I can use for free. I have some weight I need to lose that CLEARLY didn’t come off before the reunion in three weeks, so fuck it. I have the whole summer! I have books and books and books to read. I have plenty of movies in the Netflix queue. I have a pussy (much like Paris!) I want to spend the summer with. He is 14 years old this July, and I need to spend time with my sweet Ringo.

I need to figure out how not to sweat the small stuff while not reading How Not to Sweat the Small Stuff. I need to thrift shop, but buy little. I need to decide if I want to vend this fall at Stitch Rock (I do). I need to rethink my vending presentation. I need to sew some more. And organize. And sell some yarn, and yarn books. It’s time to let a lot of it GO, and free myself in the process. I need to design, but only if I feel inspired.

While I haven’t talked about it, I’ve had a shitty few weeks. A car accident I’d rather not go into (maybe later). Neighbors downstairs complaining I do too much laundry on the weekends. Because I guess they’re just so entitled and non-working that it BOTHERS their delicate sensibility.

But I will be okay. I just need May to regroup.

BTW, The World Figure Skating Championships were last weekend, not that you’d know it. Sigh. It’s a sad thing the way they’ve killed my sport. But here’s the picture of the Ice Dance top three. Please to notice Nathalie Pechalat’s face, on the far right. My husband and I got into it a few weeks ago because he claimed “You just can’t fake it, not even for a moment, can you?” We were at a ballpark and there was an entitled old white man I got into it with. As one does. Well, he’s right. I can’t. And neither can poor Nathalie. All those years and she and Fabian have but two world bronze medals. Beaten by the baby Italians in their last event, ever. They should have retired like they said they would after the Olympics. No one needs that much disappointment! Oh, well. 10153295_755673764457567_2059007513_n

As The Skating Lesson said on Facebook, will we ever see anything this gloriously French again? I don’t think so. It helps if you’ve read The Little Prince. Believe me, this program confuses some people. Ah Fabian, I will miss you and your sexy pants. You are now, and forever, my Michael Fassbender sur le patinage!

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I watched the Oscars and all I got was insomnia and a hangover

Sometimes I go a while without posting. You know it, I know it. And then I swan back in and cover the Oscars, oh, four days after the event, when all the memes are played out. I don’t care! I’m old, old I tell ya, and I’ll do it my way or no way at all. I am now serving it up, bullet-point style.

*I am working until the end of April. Did I mention that? I can’t remember. But I am. And I’m actually working where I used to work for 17 years, and where my husband works now. Yes, the newspaper.

What’s it like? Well, it’s funny how people all look a little older, but not a lot. I’ve been gone eight years, so you get that incremental chunk of time to play with. I’m sure I look older, too. The big thing I kept hearing from people is “Everyone says you changed your hair color! You’re a blonde now!” Um, not exactly. I’m a blonde with four inches of grey and brown roots, if you must.

I know I’m about twenty pounds heavier, too. But that’s a story for another day. I work hard every day and am getting paid more than twice as much as I have at ANY JOB in the past six years. I don’t include the yarn barn in that equation, since I actually got a fair wage there, and great perks.

My plan is to sock as much of the money away as I can, which won’t be hard, and live on it over the summer. Don’t think I can’t do it. If you knew how little I have been living on, you’d understand. Maybe I’ll self-publish my two novels this summer. It could happen!!

Some people are nice and happy to see me, while others, mainly in my own department, are not. Do I care? No. They can suck it. They are all little babies who have been pampered way too long. I’ve worked at places where hobos where having sex in the bathroom. Your little bitch face doesn’t bother me. No, seriously. I’ve CHANGED. This last job from hell really did a number on me, but made me stand up for myself and I’m damned proud. I’m also thankful for this opportunity, and if others are jealous are pissed because I’m in their little kingdom, oh well. Sucks to be you!

*Oscars! I continued my annual drunken tweeting extravaganza, and got some new followers, and some retweets and favorites. But the South African Wine Commission, and why? Reasons, I guess.

Man, the show was boring. I also tried to make hashtag #JackWildRealness a thing, but no one bit, so I’ll just have  to pour a pint  out for our poor lost little boy. If you loved Jack like I loved Jack, say hey.

The dresses? Eh. No one seemed to like color this year. Except this radiant creature.

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Look, I’m not being sarcastic when I say, I want to be June when I grow up. Or Judi Dench. You know, a woman of a certain age who is holding it together, but natural-like. You have to hand it to Tadashi Soji, that man can dress the non-size 2s of the world. Also, GREEN. Or as I’m calling it from now on, “Squibb Green.”

Having said that. I won’t hear a negative word said about Miss Lady Kim Novak. Here’s a great blog piece on the issue. Actually, a great blog in general. Scroll for an elegant defense of former best picture winner Gigi.

I was delighted when my description of this as a “Degas Ballernina” got lots of likes and “oh, you’re so rights!” on a popular fashion blog.

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Because, um, of course. I did NOT like the dress from the front at first, but when I saw her doing the twirly-whirlys, well, I was sold. THANK GAWD she won. Love to June, and Sally Hawkins, too (WHO MUST PLAY CHRISSIE HYNDE IN A BIOPIC OF THE PRETENDERS, I AM YELLING, BUT AMIRITE?!)  but I was in fear a JLaw double whammy was going to happen.

I thought the PRETTIEST woman at the dance was Jared Leto’s mom. For reals.

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When I see something like this, first I add it to my Pinterest page (of course), then I congratulate myself for sticking with the root grow-out process. It ain’t easy, but I feel like myself, for a change.

After the party is the after party, as RKells sez, and if my spirit animal the drunken hobo soul of Nick Nolte couldn’t be there, I’m glad my natural birth parents could.

2014 Vanity Fair Oscar Party Hosted By Graydon Carter - Inside

Why oh why did they give me up for adoption?

So, that was the night that was, and if you joined me for it, thanks. It was fun! More fun than the show. I have had more fun tweeting during the Olympics and Oscars than I have in a long while. I’m ready to trash Facebook and move on to the other, more fun social medias for good.

Also, apparently this happened. Is it way harsh, Tai? You be the judge.

But please. Hashtag #JackWildRealness. Help me make this a THING, people!

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Pink Things

привет!

I am deep in Olympicland, but sadly, I think I would rather be in Legoland. I am just NOT feeling Sochi, and it has nothing to do with Russia, and that awful Putin and the anti-gay laws etc.

Let’s be honest: Every country that has ever hosted and Olympics has had some human rights issues. We are not all sweet little baby cherubim with noble intentions. And considering what was done to the Indians in the U.S., I find it laughable that we are where most of the outrage comes from.

There’s no denying Russia’s art and culture, or that a lot of it was created by…..gay men! So yes, Putin needs to check himself before he wrecks himself.

No, my problem is NBC’S SHITTY COVERAGE. Can I say that again but louder? Okay, I’ll spare you.

I have been watching the Olympics since 1976. I remember the salad days of ABC coverage, Jim McKay may you RIP. I grew up with Dick Button, and if I can only read his tweets now, well, he’s 84 and that’s gonna have to be enough for me.

But I also remember the CBS coverage of Albertville and Lillehammer, and it was grand. Verne Lunvdquist for the win!

However, I have sat through NBC for the past several years. I have made it this far. Why now?

Well, first, I just feel that sorry for Bob Costas. I have had pink eye on more than one occasion, and prayed for death each time. I get it.

But my real problem is this: Lack of coverage.

I start my contract job next week (was supposed to start this week, but due to an HR snafu, it didn’t happen). So I had a whole week to enjoy the games! Did you know I used to take this time off ever winter Olympiad, just for this reason? It’s true! I remember, pre-Internet feeds, listening to Eurosport commentators call the ice dance on BBC Radio 1! And it was THRILLING!

But I also had the opportunity to watch extra coverage on the USA Network, or MSNBC. Sadly, those days are gone. If I want to watch anything, I have to pay extra to Comcast, and with my precarious employment situation, that ain’t happening. But you know, it wouldn’t no matter what. NBC Sports is broadcasting a lot of stuff in the daytime, but that isn’t even available on our cable package!

And in the daytime, NBC has my beloved Terry Gannon calling it with Johnny and Tara. Now look, those two aren’t my favorites of all time, but Tara is the Regina George of commentating, and if you can decode her snark, it’s DELICIOUS.

Never mind the fashion show:

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Let’s be honest — despite the receding hairline (you can’t hide it with the pouf, Johnny), he looks prettier than Tara and her monster braid.

So, even though I’ve been stuck home today and all week, I get nada coverage until NBC decides to bless me with their handpicked crap at night. Today, I had to go take another drug test for this job, and wound up following the pairs long on Twitter. So, thank God for Twitter, and believe it or not, former World bronze medalist Laura Lepistö, who gives good tweets.

Highlights? There haven’t been many. There was THIS in the team competition: german

Thank you, Germany. Thank you so much for that Weimar Republic Weirdness mixed with fair isle and a hairline from the skate gods.

But NBC has such spotty coverage that I despair getting to see some of the 5th to 10th place ice dance finishers next week, because sometimes, that’s where the great stuff lies. I give you, Papadakis and Cizeron:

It’s like a Zalman King movie on the ice, and I love it.

I mean, last night in the pairs short program, they neglected to show THE THIRD PLACE FINISHERS! Who ended up taking the silver today! Egg on your face, NBC, egg on your face.

And I loathe Screamin’ Scottie Hamilton, Snobby Sandra Bezic, and most especially, Tom Hammond, who would tell me ice is made of water if he got the chance. In fact, he probably has.

So, I got nothing else. Nothing except this, the saddest gendarme and pinkest panther you ever did see:

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Orange Aliona, you will forever have my heart. You saw Diva Navka do it in a classy way in 2004, and said, “How can I top it?”

Congrats, lady friend. You did. Thanks for the camel toe!

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On Wednesdays, we wear pink…

I walked off the job on Monday and I am now at home applying for other jobs and listening to Laura Nyro records. It is not as tragic as it sounds, but maybe it is. I have $180 to my name and two bills totaling $240 due by February 14. Happy Valentine’s Day! I am taking our tax returns in tomorrow to get them back ASAP, but that will cost $80 and I can only hope we get the boon payback we did in 2010 —that was some good money, let me tell you.

Do you think I’m crazy? A lunatic? Jumping without a net? I think my husband is deeply distressed, and wouldn’t you be? I really can’t blame him. But here’s the thing: I had to do it.

I am 46 years old and if not a hairless child of God, at least a child of God. I am a good person, a smart person, and though nobody died and made me Angelina Jolie, I think I present myself very well. I work hard and don’t slack off or give trouble.

I’ve been through a lot in my 46 years. I’ve been suffering with a raging case of IBS since last year, and if that’s TMI, oh well. At least the heart attack is over, and my husband’s rare life-threatening blood disease. I don’t ask for much. I shop at thrift stores. I go to the library. If you bought me a funnel cake I’d look at you like I just got a Cartier watch.

And I’ve been through some shit jobs. I know it, you know it. I clawed and scratched my way up the chain at the newspaper, with male colleagues trying to stymy me at every turn. I loved the yarn biz, and though that ended badly it did for others, too. I was not the exception, or the rule. When you work for a small biz owner, the fish is rotten from the head down. I get it.

Did Barnes and Noble suck? You bet it did. Customers are the worst. BUT. The girls I worked with gave me faith in the next generation, and kept me on my toes. I miss them all so much, I wonder if they know how much they meant to me? And management had its good ones and bad ones, but I always felt things were handled….professionally. I wasn’t going to be kicked out the door without a lot of due process. And I never was.

The annuity firm job really only bothered me because of the crazy co-worker who left. Everything else I could tolerate. My boss was one of THE BEST bosses I have ever had. As my father lay dying in a Hospice bed, she grabbed me by the shoulders and told me to take off as much time as I needed, paid. Because I could never get that time back, and I needed to spend it with my family.

Who DOES that anymore? Who? What company? I’d like to know.

And even though I poke at Camp Scabies, I want you to know I spent a week training someone else and told them NOT TO PAY ME. Because I felt bad about leaving, and I wanted to do the right thing.

So believe me when I say, that if I walked out of a business on the fifth floor of an old office building on Monday at 4:40 p.m., telling the receptionist that I’d be right back, then got in my car and drove away with $180 in the bank, there was a damned good reason. And ask me, just ask, if anyone called me to see where I went, or why I didn’t come back.

You won’t ask because you know the answer. No one did. No one will. Nor do I want them to. We’ve all dealt with Mean Girls before, and that’s the truth. But this went way beyond that, even though they DID have a “Pajama Thursday” last week and conveniently forgot to tell me. Not that I really cared, because I don’t wear pajamas to work. Ever.

So I’m not going to write what happened, and go over it. I’ve told my husband. I’ve told my mother, and I’ve told a friend. I’m done. I don’t ever want to think or speak of that place again. I made another mistake. A huge one. But at least it’s over, and I won’t be having heart palpitations like I did every time the phone rang and it was the psychopathic supervisor on the phone for me.

Here’s a song I have been listening to for the last few days, because – well, because I do like The Kinks, and forgot what a fun little video this was. Sort of a rock and roll Atonement, if you will.

Cheers.

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I guess I’m just a little too sensitive…..

Hey. So, I’ve been going through a difficult time again, and I know you’re like, “Come on, you’re ALWAYS going through a difficult time!” and maybe you’re right? I don’t know.

It is never easy to start a new job, and the first week went well, but this week….not so much. When you have been in my shoes, gone through what I have gone through the last four years, you lose a bit of your fight, and in my case, I’ve become timid and scared. This is not the person I used to be. Yes, I’m too damned sensitive for my own good and I know it, but it has crossed over into outright fear.

My husband is worried it is “pattern of behavior,” but after I told him what things were said to me this week, and HOW they were said, without exaggeration, he was a bit my sympathetic. I think the real problem is one my husband and my dear friend G (waving at you!) have both said: You keep landing in these toxic work environments! It’s like you keep falling into shit!

So, have I fallen into shit again? It’s too soon to tell. And I’m not going to regurgitate all the mean girl shit and bullying tyranny I’ve been subjected to this week. Suffice it to say my husband brought me THIS book from the library, and I’m tucking into it tonight:

457641_cover.inddThis weekend I took a drive up to my mother’s place, and it helped, though I am in panic mode about going to work tomorrow . Going to my mother’s house is like being surrounded in a warm hug. Sleeping under quilts on a cold night, having her bean and ham soup for lunch and homemade fajitas and margaritas for dinner. Going to see Frozen and then hitting the thrift stores where I made a HUGE score.UBDjXNYeD5-SsRcvJyqt4PrT_M2_tkHwB-1mJH7e5q4Someone with impeccable musical taste must have died because a massive album collection was for sale at the Hospice shop. This is what I DID buy. For 3 bucks — each record was fifty cents. When I think about what I left behind — some Burt Baccarach, Pearl Bailey (!) and a mint condition two-album set of the original case recording of Sweeney Todd with Angela Landsbury. But see, I don’t like Sondheim that much! I know!

This guy had classical, show tunes and jazz coming and going, and sadly, WAY too much Streisand. I don’t want to profile, but…..well, you know. But whoever and wherever he is, I thank him. For the record (oh god, the pun!) I got Leontyne Price’s Aida, Herb Alpert, Laura Nyro, Stan Getz and Joao Gilberto, Nancy Wilson and the soundtrack to Elvira Madigan (one of my favorite movies) which is essentially Mozart, but still.

And I want to tell you that I liked Frozen, and that’s no lie – I left the theatre knowing a lyric to every song, so that’s some good songwriting there. All the little girls in the theatre were singing along to every song, and if you think that bothered me you must not know me because I love to see little girls having fun.

And then I read that Laura Linney had a baby, a baby, at the ripe old age of 49, and was like, “I can still do it, there’s still time for me!” But in the light of day I’m just not sure. Still. A little hope.

And then I found Out of Africa on tv last night at mom’s, because she has so many more channels than I do, and I had forgotten how much I enjoyed the good old fashioned storytelling put forth by true professionals. Plus, every time Robert Redford gave Meryl Streep the bedroom eyes, I said, “Let’s bone,” which is something I do when I’m watching a movie with my husband but not mom, except last night when I felt it would go over okay.

And speaking of Bob, because that’s what I call him in my head, “Bob,” damn, that hurt getting passed over for an Oscar nom, but I’m not surprised because despite all he’s done for the film industry, he doesn’t play the game, and clearly, if there’s one lesson I’ve learned in life, if you don’t play the fucking GAME you will be penalized, so let me tip a 40 out for you Bob, because I’m still calling you Bob. It’s like that, homie.

And speaking of the Oscar noms, that was a whole shitload of MEH. I  was stuck in my car and heard the noms live, and only pumped my fist twice: for best foreign language film The Hunt, and best documentary Cutie and the Boxer. You know how I feel about THOSE movies.

And because I can’t tell the story enough, my husband has interviewed Jordan Catalano himself, Jared Leto, so I can brag honey has talked to an Oscar winner, because let’s be frank, that is going to happen. So once again, I live vicariously through someone else. But, fun fact, and not the E! kind of fun fact (oy!), honey said he was one the nicest people he’s ever interviewed. Which I did not see coming, but good on him, amirite?

And not speaking of the Golden Globes, not really, because that was a week ago, and BORING, I did like these two dresses:

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Masters’ of Sex Caitlin Fitzgerald is giving me Judy Jetson meets Betty Draper realness and I love it!

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Octogenarian June Squibb is giving me June Squibb, and that’s all I need to feel all Squibby. Love. Huh!

So that’s about it, and a lot of ANDS I know, but I felt like getting it all out. I don’t know when I’ll post again. But I hope you’ll keep me in your thoughts? Maybe just a little?

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Beautiful….

It’s going to be an interesting New Year’s Eve….I pulled my back out yesterday, and am in such pain and walking around with an ice pack in my pants and laws, I just can’t with this! It’s funny, I always seem to pull my back out on New Years. Many moons ago in my party days, I went to a gay disco with my friend (who was gay and on the prowl for men) and I ended up laying on a banquette with a waiter trying to help me stand up at 4 a.m. because I was unable to do so on my own. Due to the back pain, not drinking! Needless to say, my friend had abandoned me for….another man.

But that was then and this is now, and I will be with honey and Mom. So if I fall, I should be offered some help getting up.

I’m not going to write a super-huge “Best Of” lists posts, because I didn’t see enough movies this year to qualify for THAT category. I did watch a shit ton of documentaries, which has been my trend a few years now. I encourage you to look at this short list for the Best Documentary Oscar category. I have seen almost all of them, and highly recommend Cutie and the Boxer – it has stayed with me. Noriko is my hero, and the scene of her walking alone in High Line park resonates.

And you already know how I feel about Frances Ha….There are a few movies we have to see this week when we finally get time together, but I doubt they will supplant how I feel about these two. They were my favorites of the year.

There were no books I read this year that set my world on fire; but I did surpass my Good Reads goal of 30 and made it to 37. My goal next year is 52. Seriously. I am struggling to get into the grove since my eyes are bad and it’s hard to read paper books anymore – print too small! But thanks to a Kindle AND a Nook (I know, it’s pathetic) and a library AND a backlog of books to read, I know I can do it.

I would say the best two books I read this year were Code Name Verity (fiction) and Over Dressed (non-fiction).

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The rest was my usual odd mishmash of YA, nonfiction, celeb bios and erotica. But take me out and spank me hard before I ever read 50 Shades of Shitty Writing.

TV was NOT the thing this year; sadly, I just use TV to keep me company when I’m knitting. But when I’m home alone for long stretches, which happened during my lay off and this past week while honey has been working overtime, I keep it off or watch Netflix. Parks and Rec is my favorite show but it’s been put on hiatus. And I DID enjoy Orange is the New Black, which I gobbled up in one weekend, much like honey did House of Cards. But I hate Spacey, so not so much for me. My motto for the new year?

please

Tell ‘em, Laverne.

So that leaves me with music. I bought a lot of music this year! Honey is surprised how much. He used to be a music writer and he’s fallen off dramatically. But I remain curious and hungry for new as well as old; I never want to get too caught up on nostalgia that I ossify. I will always remember an interview with Keith Richards, who I am NOT basing my life philosophy on, bless his heart, but he said there was a part of him that was still 15 years old, and he wanted to nurture that forever. I can get behind that.

And though I bought a lot of music by womyn, there was no “chick rock” on my list, or Perry or Gaga or Miley or other such nonsense. I will also always remember my oh-so-dearly departed former office mate from this year and her absolutely abysmal taste in music, which she referred to as “eclectic.” Just because there are a lot of genres represented, doesn’t mean it isn’t crap.

So, enjoy some videos and I will see you NEXT YEAR. Or Next Tuesday. I actually wrote that in an e-mail to retarded Seth Rogen. “See you next Tuesday.” I don’t think he got it…..

1) Little Boots – Nocturnes

2) Goldfrapp – Tales of Us

3) Jessie Ware – Devotion

4) The Joy Formidable – Wolf’s Law

5) Sarah Jarosz – Build Me Up From Bones

6) Sarah Brightman – Dreamchaser (yes, I love this crazy bitch!)

7) Lone Bellow (going to see them live in three weeks!)

8) Sky Ferreira – Night Time, My Time

9) Arctic Monkeys – AM

10)  Ben Rector (FACT: I pinned a photo of Ben on Pinterest, and have almost 200 repins. I mean, he’s cute but really? Either way, this is my favorite song of the year. He is giving me Jackson Browne Realness in these lyrics).

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Photograph (s)

The year is almost over and I am so glad! I have many plans and goals for the new year, but those will come later. Next week. I need to sop of the last of this crap year with a biscuit and feed it to the hogs. Metaphor too gross? Sorry, that’s how I roll.

I have quit my job at the Camp From Hell, so no more will I face the daily prospect of a dozen rabbis in a tiny room. It sounds like a bizarre Woody Allen pron movie, I know. And yet, it was my life for five weeks. No mas! I spent Christmas Even listening to music that was too horrific to be called klezmer (which can actually be fun) piped in a loudspeaker at Defcon Five levels. Was this how I wanted to spend my Christmas Eve? Mais non! But when I got in on Thursday to listen to the answer phone messages, the neighbors who called to complain were even more annoyed than me. Who knew?!

Because I have a tiny bit of a conscience left, I gave notice in a mature way, and said I’d stick around a few days to help ease the transition, no pay needed. Call me crazy but I couldn’t leave them in the lurch. Tomorrow I’ll go in again and spend a few hours with idiot Seth Rogen’s wife, who is actually quite pretty and Australian, and looks like Muriel’s Wedding era Toni Collette, albeit with Angelina Jolie lips. I know! She is quite fetching in her own way. She could do better than idiot Seth Rogen. But I shan’t tell her this.

I start a new job on January 6th, God willing and the creek don’t rise. Please, don’t let it rise. It’s professional, it’s in an office on the fifth floor, and I have a cubicle. I pray it will be normal and I don’t write here complaining every day. I know you pray that, too.

Honey has been working nights the last week, and my car was in the shop (don’t ask what happens when you don’t change your oil in three years. Just – don’t) and my debit card was hijacked in the Target mess, so I’ve been landlocked. Watching a lot of French movies, reading and going through my Dropbox. I’m pretty boring, but there were a few highlights this year. Because pictures make the blog post so much livelier, why not go down memory lane with me?

One of my favorite things I made this year. A simple triangle granny in 1970s' colors.

One of my favorite things I made this year. A simple triangle granny in 1970s’ colors.

A special summer lunch with mom and honey. She always makes us feel so welcome. It's the simple things that bring me joy, like a well-laid table.

A special summer lunch with mom and honey. She always makes us feel so welcome. It’s the simple things that bring me joy, like a well-laid table.

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It was a small Christmas for us, and a sad one for me. This is mom's tree, which she gave me. We spent the day before Christmas Eve crying. The bell ornaments are from when she and my dad where a couple in high school.

It was a small Christmas for us, and a sad one for me. This is mom’s tree, which she gave me. We spent the day before Christmas Eve crying. The bell ornaments are from when she and my dad were a couple in high school.

One of those Saturdays in  February after lunch and bloody marys at Howleys when the world seemed big and bold and like I could do anything. Or at least take a picture of a blimp.

One of those Saturdays in February after lunch and bloody marys at Howleys when the world seemed big and bold and like I could do anything. Or at least take a picture of a blimp.

Can you tell I'm obsessed with my hair? No, seriously…..

Can you tell I’m obsessed with my hair? No, seriously…..

Before the grey REALLY started to come in.

Before the grey REALLY started to come in.

Watching my grey hair grow out is a process. This is my Mrs. Robinson brown streak in the front.

Watching my grey hair grow out is a process. This is my Mrs. Robinson brown streak in the front.

Another happy customer at Stitch Rock!

Another happy customer at Stitch Rock!

My epic list of all the pies I could think of, and all the Game of Thrones characters I could think of, which I made during our two-day meetings from hell this summer - meant to brainstorm to help save the company. I was in a massive layoff and now my old boss is writing me for resume tips. You can see how well it worked!

My epic list of all the pies I could think of, and all the Game of Thrones characters I could think of, which I made during our two-day meetings from hell this summer – meant to brainstorm to help save the company. I was in a massive layoff and now my old boss is writing me for resume tips. You can see how well it worked!

Minor league basseball makes the summer better down here.

Minor league baseball makes the summer better down here.

Honey in front a a Tardis at Comic Con

Honey in front a a Tardis at Comic Con

A smaller Comic Con we went to in the Fall. It was dinky, but I love this shot I took of Baby Harlequin!

A smaller Comic Con we went to in the Fall. It was dinky, but I love this shot I took of Baby Harlequin!

A dear friend went to an 80s revival concert in Melbourne, FL and got me this gorgeous hand-dyed yearn from Fresh From the Cauldron. It is named after Molly RIngwald's character in Pretty in Pink, and is the best gift ever!

A dear friend went to an 80s revival concert in Melbourne, FL and got me this gorgeous hand-dyed yearn from Fresh From the Cauldron. It is named after Molly RIngwald’s character in Pretty in Pink, and is the best gift ever!

After "She who will not be named" left the office in the Spring. She left this shelf behind, and I used it in my craft shows. I do not miss the bitch.

After “She who will not be named” left the office in the Spring. She left this shelf behind, and I used it in my craft shows. I do not miss the bitch.

Pumpkin patch at our new church. I am glad I finally found a church where I feel welcome, am not hounded for money (though I am happy to give when I can), and with a pastor who is funny, down-to-earth, and not hung up on stupid, extraneous stuff.

Pumpkin patch at our new church. I am glad I finally found a church where I feel welcome, am not hounded for money (though I am happy to give when I can), and with a pastor who is funny, down-to-earth, and not hung up on stupid, extraneous stuff.

My dad made this, and it's on a table in my mom's house. I am still amazed by his creativity, and miss him every day.

My dad made this, and it’s on a table in my mom’s house. I am still amazed by his creativity, and miss him every day.

I developed a shopping addiction to Target (HAHAHA). I was so depressed at my last job that I'd go there on the way home and blow $200 on things like high heels I will never wear.

I developed a shopping addiction to Target (HAHAHA). I was so depressed at my last job that I’d go there on the way home and blow $200 on things like high heels I will never wear.

The Brad Paisley show we went to for free (honey was reviewing) was surprisingly great. It was hotter than Satan at a barbecue and I cried during the most incongruous song, but that's me.

The Brad Paisley show we went to for free (honey was reviewing) was surprisingly great. It was hotter than Satan at a barbecue and I cried during the most incongruous song, but that’s me.

Sorry these are a little out of order, but you get the idea. And that was the shit year that was 2013!

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