Troll Roots: Finding Your Inner Troll

I find myself musing tonight on my original motivations in starting this blog; it seems I have strayed from my roots, my intentions.

I wanted to express the trollness of it all, that crabby and quirky beast that lurks in us all (especially me). And to show that trolls are not really all bad, just mostly bad and endowed with many base emotions & desires and few tools for acting on those emotions & desires without irritating the hell out of the other trolls.

Have I done that? I can't say that I really have, it seems that mostly I've bitched about pantyhose, planned out new outfits, and rambled aimlessly on about almost whatever comes into my mind (luckily for you, I decline to share the other whatevers in my mind).

Have I been able to show the humanity in trolls, and the trolls in humanity, and the misery that ensues when one refuses to acknowledge one's inner troll?

Some of you may be wondering why I am even bothering to ponder the roots of this blog, so I'll go ahead and admit that today I discovered...

Did I mention what a nerd I am? OK: do a search for "hill troll" on Google...and this blog is the eleventh hit. I feel like Steve Martin did in The Jerk when his name got published in the phone book (for those of you who don't remember, this is before he discovered his "special purpose" and after he learned to distinguish shit from Shinola).

Weekend!!

Weekend, weekend, weekend. So many things to do! Like sleeping. And drinking tikis. And reading my email. And being oblique.

Gotta go floss. Bye!

My All-Seeing Eye

LEG, something tells me that you are looking at my blog right now. So I just want to say thanks for coming over tonite, I had a great time!

And never forget that Sept 9 is International Talk Like a Pirate Day!

One more thing

And I also want to add, since I have had two gin-n-oj's, that I am very disappointed that no-one commented on my Rachael Ray entry!! I worked so hard, and got that pic with the red colander and everything! Sob!

The Unbearable Awkwardness of Being

So I am on the hunt for a therapist. Since my boss is a psychologist, I asked him for some referrals!

Though a friend suggested I could just cadge some free therapy by simply asking him vague what-if questions like, "What if this girl broke up with this guy, what would be the best way to deal with it," or, "This person I know has a phobia. What's the first thing she should do? Uh huh? And then what's the next thing? Yeah. Yeah. OK, so what should my friend do next? Here, wait, hold that thought, I'm taking some notes for my friend."

But seriously. So my next step was to call some headshrinkers. Here's how my voicemail went yesterday:

Uh, hi, I'm Hilltroll? And I'm, like, looking for a therapist. Ummmmmmmmmmnnnnn...yeah. Dr N gave me your name and um, yeah. Ok. Can you um call me um back? Uhhhhhh....

The most awkward ever. The only way it could have been worse is if I had thrown in some sort of non-sequitur such as "Oh, hang on, the peanut is up my nose."

When she called back it was even more awkward, and I won't bother to go into the details. Suffice to say that I was not my usual debonair self.

The Winnah!!!!

Tiffky Doofy will soon receive a gorgeous, highly collectable poster of Jean Claude the Vampire with his hands down his pants. She guessed correctly that Anita's favorite animal is the penguin!

I will send this poster to her shortly at the same address I used to send her christmas card last year. Uh, you did get a card from me, right?

I got this image at www.funnypics4all.com. Look out for popups, though.

Anita Blake Graphic Novel Contest!!!

Did y'all know that Laurell K. Hamilton's infamously badly-written yet strangely alluring and addictive vampire series is now a monthly comic book? It's all very exciting; I found out when I was chatting with the comic book store lady, Paula, and then I was ON FIRE I thought it was so cool--though not as cool as it would be if, say, Lois McMaster Bujold's Vorkosigan novels were put in graphic form (which is actually being done now in France, and I wonder if an English translation will follow quickly)

So I was babbling on about how fun Hamilton's novels are even though they are so badly badly written and I noticed that Paula kept referring to her as Laurell; so then I was totally embarrassed since it seems Paula knows Hamilton personally and here I am badmouthing her writing...I thought Hamilton lived in Missouri or something, how was I to guess? Or maybe everyone calls her Laurell, just like everyone calls Mercedes Lackey "Misty." Just goes to show, it's never a good idea to badmouth a person, even if you mean it nicely and there seems to be no way it could get back to them...

But what can I say? The writing is dreadful, and she has the most bizarre pacing I have ever encountered. I keep waiting for her to come out with a 500 page novel where the entire plot takes place in Anita's bathroom while she takes an epic 15-minute piss. If you have read her books, the previous sentence will possibly make sense to you.

So since they are promoting the series, I scored on a POSTER of that hot master vampire, Jean Claude. AND I am willing to send it to the first person who can tell me:

What is Anita's favorite animal?!?

Porn on the Bus

This afternoon I was riding the bus home and reading a book, which today happened to be "One Kiss from You" by Christina Dodd; the sun was out, the bus was packed with a variety of folks, and after some time reading I happened upon a steamy scene.

Which of course all romance novels have, but it's sorta wierd reading one on the bus because there's all these people around and I start to wonder if someone is reading over my shoulder or do they suspect that I am reading porn? Does it show on my face?

And then I just got distracted by the passengers around me, so I put the book away since I was getting embarrassed anyhow. There was this immensely fat guy sitting across from me, reading a Louis L'Amour novel, and he was wearing a really grimy red baseball cap with a brass pin in the shape of an alligator. Every once in a while he would tell his kid sitting next to him to be quiet--I'm not sure why, since the kid wasn't really making any noise. He was about 7 or 8, and he had a small toy revolver that made a loud click when you pull the trigger, and he kept shooting himself over and over and over: in the side of the head, in the heart, the eye, the neck. I think he might have been bored. Dead bored.

The Burden of Fame

I'm really worried about Rachael Ray.

I don't know what's holding her together, what with the cooking show, her own magazine, constant magazine & television appearances, and of all things, a talk show. I don't think there's enough speed in the world to keep someone going through all that (and never mind the Nat Enq stuff about her cheating hubby.)

The other day I was at my best friend's house, and over the piercing, clarion voice of her four-year-old we were sorta watching Rachael Ray on the food channel. And I have to say, she seems much more stressed out than she did a couple of years ago. The whole time she never looked at the camera, she was too rushed! Poor thing. She was cooking this pizza, it's like a pizza salad where (and I'm guessing a little here because it's hard to pay attention with little Jacob sitting on the couch with me, relentlessly kicking my leg) she chopped up a LOT of herbs & greens (like arugula & stuff) and put it on this pizza right when it came out of the oven, so the heat wilted the greens a little. And the pizza wasn't super cheesy, so it would be more light.

In fact, that is similar to how I make my own signature margherita pizza: as soon as the cheese and tomato/garlic-sauced pizza comes out of the oven, I fling generous handfuls of chiffonadededed basil on top so it sort of relaxes onto the cheese with a soft sigh: Aahhh. Then I eat it all.

To restate my concern, I am worried about Rachael Ray. And I haven't even mentioned all those fucking Triscuit and Wheat Thin boxes with her face on there looking kinda scary.

But that pizza still looked pretty darn good; almost as good as my pizza.

OK, gotta go floss. Bye!

Revisiting the Thrill of Twill

Just so y'all know, the really expensive & beautiful silk half slip I bought at Nordstrom's to combat the creeping twill skirt...didn't work. My solution: no pantyhose, ever, with that skirt; instead I am waering knee socks and tall boots (and it looks super cute).

Squeaky Clean

I like to blog and floss at the same time.

Hilltroll Reveals All

I was thinking how sometimes one can blurt out something in mixed company that says a little more about oneself than intended. For example, at this memorial thing on Saturday: I made some idle comment to Tricia about the superstition that if you put your purse on the floor your money will all run out; and then she responded with the trivia tidbit that "they" recommend that women sterilize the bottoms of their purses every couple of weeks because of the bacteria which accumulates when purses are set down on the floor in public restrooms.

"Eeeww!" I squeal, "I would never set my purse down in the bathroom!" (and I hope you wouldn't either; it's yucky.)

Which is quite innocuous until one realizes that I was sitting in a crowd of psychologists, half of whom no doubt immediatly diagnosed me with misophobia and possibly OCD (I'd better be careful about mentioning my ritualistic hand-washing habits).

Gotta keep my guard up in this place, lest I become some sort of test subject or social experiment....

Oh, did I mention that the president of the school was sitting right behind me? I think it's cool to squeal involuntarily at memorial services.

Memorial Update

We had to leave early because my ride had an appointment. So we missed out on the speeches and stuff, but ate some excellent food & had a chance to extend condolences. Felt guilty for leaving early. But glad at the same time.

Pray for the Dead and the Dead Will Pray for You

I am going to a memorial service today for someone I have never met. She used to be head librarian at the school where I work, but she became sick 3 days before I started. Then she passed on 3 weeks later.

I generally don't care much for memorial services anyway, but this one poses a special challenge for me. I want to go out of respect for my coworkers, who were very close to L; but what do I say? It's not as though I have anything personal to share...I wonder what Miss Manners would think.

OK, Miss Manners does not have a website. So I looked at Etiquette Hell, which wasn't really helpful but had some great/terrible stories to tell.

Halfway through these tales of woe, I recalled a funeral service I attended with my ex a few years ago for C, who we met through our friend A, his grown stepson. They were very close, and lived together, along with A's son. C was a wonderful man, who told great stories, cooked for the household, and really held the family together; so it was no surprise that a lot of people attended the service.

There was a non-denominational sermon given by a friend of the family, and then they asked friends to come up and speak a few words, all very standard. But there was this one guy who insisted on speaking even though he didn't know C at all! Worse, he rambled painfully on and on and on about the meaning of death in general, and on the fact that he thought, based on what people were saying at the service, that C was a great guy. He talked for a REALLY LONG time.

Very uncomfortable. So I'll be sure not to do that, yeah.

Evil Pantyhose II: meat grinders from HELL

So this morning I was running late and donning my cute little outfit for the day and I'm like, "Fuck, I have to wear tights again to cover this fucking tattoo."

So I put on black tights and they're really uncomfortable but I'm late, so I just go.

Slowly, the pantyhose became tighter and tighter, until I thought my legs were going to fall right off behind my desk at work, and people would be asking me, "Hey what's that big pool of blood creeping out under your desk," and I'd be, like, "Oh damn, I thought the fucking nylons would hold the blood in, here, wait a second while I pick up my legs from off the floor."

Hate hate hate the pantyhose. I threw that pair out the instant I got home. Vengefully. I think they must have been the l'eggs I bought the other week that were really too small (even though the manufacturer claims they should fit me.)

Hey, pantyhose marketers! Listen up: THEY DON'T FIT.

The Thrill of Twill

My new clothes arrived last night, so today I wore a cute outfit that included tights and my new black twill skirt.

Sadly, I did not realize until I was halfway to the bus stop that the twill skirt clings with great ardor to my black cotton tights. So all day my skirt would cling and then ride up my legs as I walked along; every little while I would stop and do a little dance so that my skirt would fall back down.

Pretty funny. I think I will go shopping for more half-slips this weekend.

Inspiration

Wrote a song last night titled "You Suck." Gee, I'm not sure what exactly inspired me, but it's a pretty good song, though I consider it too obscene to publish here. Animal lovers will be delighted to know that donkeys feature prominently in the lyrics.

Sometimes I Miss Gremlin

Pout

I feel sulky.

Money Tastes Good

Ok, so I put my money where my mouth is and ordered the beginnings of the new kinder, funkier, naturally-fibered me. Sierra Trading Post loves me now. And J Jill is kind enough to not charge my card until April 23. Plus I got glittery thigh high stockings just because I like them. Thank you, Karin, for your patience and eye for style!

oops

I feel kinda dumb but I was talking to my lovely friend Karin who asked me where in Orange County Bob lives...uh, he doesn't live in Orange County, he lives in San Diego County (and embarrassingly enough, I can't remember the name of his town but it's fairly close to San Diego.)

New Fashion Track

Ok, I can admit it now: the Spiegel thing didn't work. I want affordable, fashionable, well-fitting clothes that are of good quality, and Spiegel is missing the boat.

I think I need to edge back to more natural fibers, funky cool shoes, hand-knit hats, and thigh-high stockings (I found a great spot for them online at Sock Dreams.) Skirts will still be knee-length or just below the knee, and I think perhaps cardigans rather than blazers? Because I can never find blazers that fit right over my boobs.

Blogging Naked

Plugging Books, Books, Books

So Linda & I now have a book blog together!!!!!!!!!????!!!

Take a look, people; the link is on the right. The vast philosophical distance between Linda and I becomes immediately apparent! But this is a good thing because you can have the best of both worlds: meaningful and trashy.

Plus there is lots of sex.

Well, not really, but I thought it might make more people look at the blog. Actually, yes, there is a lot of sex. Just read between the lines.

P-con 2007, part II: HPM

The ex-archivist wants to know about the hot pagan man I met at P-con...we bumped into each other at the Saturday nite Tribal Rave Trance Dance (where I was totally groovin' even though the music wasn't really my first choice) We danced for a while & then met again the next evening, and had extreme salty soup at the Coffee Garden (neither of us was very hungry.)

The salt soothed my throat, which was good because by that time the tail end of my stupid cold had combined with long hours and lots of yelling at the registration desk to give me laryngitis, which I still have.

So I communicated via post-it notes for the whole meal. Now the interesting thing about this is that looking back I realize I now know a bunch about him, but he knows very little about me. So I am a mysterious lady. Unless of course he got all my backstory from someone else at the con.

His name is Bob. Really sweet, really sexy, really lives in San Diego County.

P-con 2007

Ahhh, P-con! Very tired now, though I got home hours ago & took a nap.

For those of you who don't know, Pantheacon is a pagan conference held every President's Day Weekend in San Jose. I work the registration desk each year.

Many wonderful and strange things occurred, though I am too tired to enumerate them now. I'll blog about all the juicy details tomorrow, people.

Here is a short list of interesting events that I could discuss: Magic non-Norse runes, Living Tarot, Trance Dance, Hot Pagan Man, Hanging with Mary, too many hours at the reg desk, my abominable never-ending cold that I pray to the gods I have not passed on, ribbon whores, a kinder, gentler Con-Ops, interminable ride with arguing couple, creepy guy in the hospitality suite.

So perhaps I will blog on all of these topics. Or only some of them and leave you hanging...

Pantyhose Strangulation

I spent the day being oppressed by my tights. What freakish shape do those manufacturers think queen size women are????!!!!!!!! Jeez.

Squinchy things around my stomach make me grouchy, I am now on a mission to find good sources for thigh-high opaque stockings. In cool colors.

I would like to take these tights and wrap them extremely snugly around the neck of the person responsible for inventing the damn things. And whoever it was who made them de rigeur for office dressing.

Valentroll

Just had an excellent Valentine's night out, Nancy and I went to Dinner at Sabuy Sabuy (Thai food) on College Ave, and then had a quiet drink at the Kona Club, where we sat next to this really nice guy, Robert, who was playing some bar game machine and having a drink while he waited for his girlfriend to get ready so he could go pick her up.

As it turns out, Robert is a tight end for the Buffalo Bills. But we didn't talk about that much since neither Nancy nor I know shit about football.

Sweet guy. He is going Home to New Orleans to spend Mardi Gras with his family and cook crabs (he loves to cook). Loves his girlfriend. Likes to buy houses.

Fried Rice?

Just wondering when it is that they stopped putting water chestnuts in fried rice, or any other Chinese food, for that matter. I like water chestnuts. Where are they?!?

Thank Sekhmet It's Friday

Well, the battles of the work week are nearly done, and I have hopes that I shall arise in the end, unscathed and covered in my enemies' blood.

Though I don't know if this goddess-of-war metaphor applies, since everyone at my new job has been so helpful. I keep having people come up to me and say, "How are you doing? Are you feeling really overwhelmed?"

Overwhelmed seems to be a key word at the Wright-at least five people have asked me this question in just those words. Maybe it's a psychology thing, talkin' about the feelings and whatnot. But I don't feel overwhelmed, and here's why:

In order to be overwhelmed, I would need to feel helpless in the face of my new job. And I don't feel helpless at all. Frustrated sometimes, but not helpless. And I have confidence that I will learn! (and never you mind the dark doubts late at night; those don't count except as manifestations of some understandable anxiety!)

Lunch for Troll

Hi! Just finished writing a thank-you letter to the prez of the Wright Institute because he took me to lunch to pick my brains about the tuition project thing I did (almost put that in hte present tense there, but I think it probably belongs in the past. I have never been more confused in my life.) I dropped a piece of lettuce on my shirt (read, "protruding bosom") and went for the rest of the day with a grease stain on my boob.

Today was my 2nd day working onsite at the Wright Institute. Crazy! I got dropped into the middle of a job where there is no one to train me because no one knows how to do the job except the guy who just left. Yikes.

But I think I'll have fun. I hope. Trying not to feel too anxious. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Gonna get it figured out. Yeah.

Pulpy Love

I was walking Rose one morning this past week when we came across a bunch of books stacked up on a wall for people to take. I guess they didn't want to bother walking them to the library to donate? I don't mind, because I scored on a half-dozen romances.

I used to gobble up romance novels when I was a teenager, until I started to wonder why the prerequisites for finding true love were so specific: 1. the girl must be a virgin (and the guy must not be a virgin). 2. If you live in England, or in any European country, you must be an aristocrat. 3. the guy must be a complete asshole. I suppose the third requirement is easy enough to fill, but what about the first 2?

If you think this made me stop reading romances, you are wrong. I just make crabby comments in the marginalia of my mind and skim through the extra-crappy writing until a) something happens that actually moves the plot forward or b) I hit a love scene. (Which is really why people read these, anyway. Never kid yourself, romances are porn. Or at least the best parts of them are.)

So here's what I read; I started to give mini reviews, but realized it's a waste of time, so I'll just list 'em:
A Perfect Bride by Samantha James
Breathless, by Kat Martin; and Heartless, by the same author
The Barefoot Princess by Christina Dodd (notably good love scenes)
A couple of others that were quintessentially forgettable.

Bittersweet Sing-Along on the Fence

Hi! I cannot make up my mind. Really want to do the Bittersweet Valentines Sad Song Sing-Along next weekend, but not sure if I'll have time. But I want to do it, maybe I should make time. What should I do? I suppose I will dither until it is too late.

Goat Day (This is a test)

Ais added me to her blog so I could post about books I'm reading, but this first post is not about a book. Actually, I'm just trying to figure out how to post, so hopefully the picture of Hilda and I that I tried to upload shows up. I went goat milking at Slide Ranch, and Hilda was the sweetest and most loving goat of all. I actually drank the milk right from her teet (is that how you spell it?) when miking her by squirting it straight into my mouth. Afterward, she kept nuzzling me and giving those cute goat eyes that I just couldn't resist. I had never milked a goat before, and never knew how loving and adorable goats are.

Knittin n Freakin

Linda and Nancy were just over, and we had the best time knitting (except for Nancy, who doesn't knit) and freaking to Kelly Peters Make It Happen, Tom Petty, and Sublime. First we would knit for a while, and then the uncontrollable impulse to dance would take over, and we would all leap up and start freaking. We did the straight freak, the cowboy freak, and I tried to remember the Prep but could only recall the brush-off.

Complete with a guest appearance by Jake, the household 3-year-old, who refused to breakdance, sadly. (He's quite good.)

Wonder what the neighbors thought.

In other news, Linda suggested that we blog together about books we are reading. What a great idea!!!!!! She doesn't want to moderate it though, and I am too lazy to run an additional blog, so I have invited her to post book stuff on this one; after all, she is an honorary hilltroll. So be looking forward to many fine book reviews, everyone!

Even More Hair

I woke up this morning and staggered bleary-eyed to the bathroom. Looked in the mirror and for some reason my hair was absolutely gorgeous! Artfully tousled, it hung sexily around my shoulders, framing the huge bags under my eyes perfectly.

Went back to bed.

I have laryngitis and cannot speak very well.

Into the Stratosphere

As of last Sunday, the infamous Larry is GONE. To Chicago. Yay!

Nancy emailed me an announcement with this terrific graphic that you see here.

She & I met for celebratory tikis Monday evening at the Kona Club & planned our futures as hot single women. Hmmnn. Well, we shall see what happens next.

Um, the drinks at the Kona Club are a bit strong (or maybe I am even more of a lightweight than I thought); I only had two, but felt fairly..what's the word? Buzzed, that's it. The Kiss of Death was delicious (& potent), and the Blood Orange tasted like liquified orange tic-tacs.

Nancy is a great companion for places like that, being far more open, friendly, and capable of striking up conversations with people than I; but being with her is like getting infected with a sort of disease of Gregariousness, and suddenly I was chatting with Nancy, the bartender, various folks who walked into the bar, and the plastic monkey and mermaid that came with my drinks.

Looking forward to a dazzling future, sans Larry and his Space Pickle!

Stuff in the Mail: So Many Exciting Things

Got my divorce papers in the mail this week & need to sign them and mail them back. Well, not the official divorce papers, but whatever stuff they send to start with. A summons to appear in court May 31. And the thing I have to sign is a Notice of Receipt. They are sitting on top of the dog kennel. I will mail it real soon.

I also rec'd an advance copy of Joshua James Keels' anthology, Such a Pretty Face, a collection of short stories for young adults about beauty and its various postmodern ramifications. I really enjoyed reading it, and here are a few comments which will hopefully illustrate why:

1. I am so stoked that my close personal friend JJ Keels is on the road to the fame and fortune he so richly deserves. OK, the anthology might not actually be defined by the general public as being "his," but to me it is. His story is titled "Ape," and you should all go buy the book if you want to find out more. Or borrow it from me, but you have to put down a hefty cash deposit and turn the pages with tongs because hello, it's a signed advance copy of a first edition.

2. Youth these days need to understand that beauty is not only skin-deep, it's in the media, too. I mean to say that the stories are complex, rooted in a variety of realities, and not subject to simplistic problem/solution formats with annoyingly obvious morals that make you want to shoot up a bunch of heroin now.

3. Variety of authors and styles, all of them interesting & well-written, not a dud in the bunch.

4. BTW, I recently discovered that a chapbook that Shua wrote and I helped illustrate way back in December of 1990 is ensconced in the Cal Poly library. Don't believe me? It is called My fear of food and other delicacies.

Other things I am reading right now:

The Fifth Elephant, by Terry Pratchett who is very funny and has a lot of t's in his last name.

I Like You, by Amy Sedaris-a full color book on hospitality and party-throwing for people under the influence. I am laughing like a water buffalo the whole time I read. I keep having to put it down for fear of permanent hysteria.

I just finished Outlander, by Diana Gabaldon, which I thought I had already read, and I picked it up for a friend at the Salvation Army, and then I realized that I had never read it, or if I did I was drunk because I have no memory of anything from that novel. Which is like having a new lease on life, as I adore her books and thought I had read everything in print except for the romances from her early writing days, re-published now that she is famous.

Important Musicians of the Latter 20th century

Just wanted to let people know the importance of Billy Squier. Bobaloo thinks so too.

Thursday Knitting Nite

Tonight was the knitting circle at my place but since it was just Linda & I this week, it was really more of a line than a circle...

I discovered that knitting complex lace patterns while keeping up a conversation is not possible for me. So I put down the lace scarf project (see pic in my earlier entry about UFO's)& began a swatch for a new hat, which I will give to myself. (It seems as if most of my best projects get given away to other people. But no more! I will start giving them to me, instead.)

My "e" button on my keyboard is starting to give out; I kep writing things like "wek," "kep," and "feding."

More Hair

I spent 45 minutes blow-drying my hair this morning. It looked nice, but my head got very very hot. Contemplating baldness...or perhaps a hat.

BTW it looked nice, but still frizzy.

Troll Hair

Spent another day today wondering why my hair doesn't look like Nicole Kidman's. I mean, I know she probably has 5 hairstylists following her around all the time, but I should think that 1 troll lady could do the work of a half-dozen hairstylists, no problem.

Jen says I am obsessing over my hair and no one notices the frizz, but the point is that I notice it. It's frizzy! It goes every which way! It snaggles and tangles and gets stuck under my collar and I don't notice until much later! And it seems sometimes as if everyone in the world has more control over their hair than I do. Plus the greying thing, which I can't bring myself to do anything about since I know I could never commit to paying the big bucks to get it dyed every 6 weeks.

All I want is for my hair to look like a Pantene ad, dammit!

What's a troll to do?

Night on the Townish

Just got back to the Troll Hole after going to the Epic Arts Tea House to see Loretta Lynch for the first time...Jen has been lauding them for ages and at last I got a chance to see what all the fuss was about.

Loretta Lynch is mixed acoustic/electric country type music with an urban, East Bay, feminist slant. 3 women and 1 guy. The three women sing vocals with harmonizing parts, and they all have gorgeous voices that are distinctly different from each other and yet blend marvelously. Plus they play guitar, bass, mandolin, washboard, and switch out their instruments between songs, depending on what they are playing. I loved the playlist, which included "Mamas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowgirls," an extremely sad version of "Bad Things Happen" (I was nearly in tears) and this amazing, amazing song called "Santa Muerte" which just knocked my socks off.

Also playing was Hollertown, a two-person band, led by a woman with an absolutely incredible voice, plus she played guitar and mandolin, and the other band member played electric guitar and banjo. (I wish he played banjo for more than one song!) I signed up on their email list and couldn't help but recognize the email address of the person who had signed up before me, though she wasn't at the show tonight. You may be able to guess who this was if I give you a hint or two: she had "goo" in her address, and her first name starts with an L.

Troll Valentine

I am evolving an idea for Valentine's Day...since at this point I doubt I'll have a date, perhaps I'll host a get-together:

Bittersweet Valentines Love Song Sing-Along

With sad/bitter/angry/funny love songs for people to sing to! Nancy has already said she'll help out by playing a 2nd ukulele, and maybe others could bring along songs to share & acoustic intruments to play...

Tentative Playlist:

Love Hurts
Love Stinks
I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry
Tainted Love
Your Cheatin' Heart
Plasir D'Amour
Wild World
Once More
You've Really Got a Hold on Me

I'd love to hear from anyone who has some good songs to suggest. I'm not planning this as a singles-only, couples excluded kind of thing...but since most couples are obligated to have a romantic dining experience on Valentine's, it might be all singles by default.

Don't Tell Anyone

I like to read through my old blog entries & laugh at my own jokes.

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Cold Medication

Went to the drugstore today for cough medicine, and as it turns out I got a hair straightener because they have these new ones with ceramic plates that aren't supposed to thrash hair and they cost a zillion bucks for a good one but I said fuggit & got one on sale at Long's Drugs: $19.99 after rebate. Plus it comes with these really cool warning labels & safety instructions. I think my favorite is #6: Never use while sleeping.

Being sick is really boring, and I am about ready to freak out.

Yesterday I went to Tumble & Tea with Joss, Gavan, all their kids, and Nancy. (Tumble & Tea is this cafe with a big, fun play area for little kids so parents can lounge about while their children do stuff.) I had a good time despite the fact that an earlier coughing fit had sent my back into muscular spasms so that whenever I bent over or sat down or stood up I would say things like "Guuhhruughh! Jesus f*ing Christ!"

There was a cute guy working the counter & I mentioned to Gavan that I thought so & THEN she took things into her own hands & wandered off, found him, told him that one of her friends thought he was cute-& when he said he was flattered but already had a girlfriend, she identified me as the woman in the fuzzy purple hat. ?!? He obligingly said that he thought I was cute also, and gave Gavan his card to pass on because he was in a band & maybe I could come and watch a show sometime at Tumble & Tea (I'm guessing this is at night, without kids?) I'm not sure what that was supposed to mean, but here are some possible expansions: 1. Here's my card, I'm with a girlfriend but maybe I'm interested anyway since I'm a low-down, two-timing so-and-so. 2. I'm taken but one of my bandmates is hard up. 3. I'm a nice guy and also I am trying to drum up a bigger audience & promote my band. 4. This is someone else's card & I'm trying to get rid of you.

In all honesty, I think #3 is the most likely possiblity, because he seemed like a nice guy. Note to self: never mention cute guys to Gavan unless I am ready to be outed. So for example, not when I am sick with a cold and dressed like a slob. . . it's nice to be 38, because if I was 17 I would probably be permanently mortified. But it was very sweet of Gavan to try to help out.

When Will Summer Return???

It's not the season right now (and some of you may have read this years ago on my cobwebsite), but I thought this helpful list of uses for an overabundance of zucchini might remind everyone of warmer times, full of vegetables...

So now, here's what you've been waiting for! 101 things to do with zucchini:

Hollow one out, carve it into an ark, sit in it, and wait for the next flood. Wear it as an interesting hat. Plant 100 seeds in a 10 foot plot and pretend you are Poison Ivy, capable of commanding plants to grow with uncontrollable rapidity. Biodegradable butt plug. Baseball bat for use against softball teams with noodle-armed pitchers. Shoes. For men, put in pants to enhance basket. For women, put in bra to get a lot of weird looks.

Zucchini bread. Zucchini jam. Zucchini cake. Zucchini salad. Zucchini soup. Zucchini, zucchini, zucchini. Offer as a sacrifice to the Gods in hopes of gettting more tomatoes and less zucchini next year. Wield in clublike manner to discourage nighttime raids by ravenous raccoons and amorous opossums. Scare cats. Deploy as targets for knife-throwing practice. Drop from high buildings as part of a scientific study of spattered pulp. Footrest. Bolster. You can carve one into a stool or night table if you let it get big enough. Use to beat the crap out of next year's zuke plants before they have a chance to bear fruit. Use as rollers to re-grade your road. Dry out for firewood. Build a log cabin.

Zucchini cupcakes. Zucchini pudding. Baked zucchini. Fried zucchini. Boiled zucchini. Rotisserie zucchini. Zucchini casserole. Zucchini and salmon roe profiteroles. Zucchini and lark's tongue in aspic. Glue your fingers together with oozing zuke sap, then wave your hands around like flippers. Put a zucchini on adjacent bus seat so no one sits next to you; and should someone try anyway, engage in lively conversation with your zucchini until he goes away. Dress it in a swaddling cloth, pretend it's your baby, and look straight through anyone who dares to ask why you are nursing a large green vegetable. Put wheels on one and ride it around town singing until you form an impromptu parade.

Space-Filler: UFOs, Begone!

I feel a need to make another entry just so that picture of OJ isn't right up at the top anymore. Yuck.

So let's talk about UFOs. Knitting UFOs, not spaceman vehicles...you know, UnFinished Objects. As in, "I have ten UFOs sitting in my knitting basket, and I haven't even looked at them for months." But actually there are only 6 in there, each with its own dull little yarn of how I lost interest or lost the materials/ time/ interest/ pattern.

I won't tell tales because I have a better plan: I am going to finish these projects no matter what it takes. Though some of the scarves may end up a little short. I have decided to start with the guitar strap (ukulele strap, really) since it's nearly done, anyhow. If you're wondering, the strap is the skinny, twisted one that looks like a pink & purple worm. After that, I think I'll finish the Frankensweater (and I'm hoping the Thursday night crew will help me figure out what to do with the neckline). And then, who knows?

In other news, I have the most abominable cold EVER. Hack, hack, sneeze, wheeze, and my brain has been non-functional ever since Friday morning, when my sinuses took over & started running the show. Pity me. Jossie has it, too, as does Nancy. And many other people. apparently.

So F&*%ing Crazy

(Note: I had his pic up here but took it off because his smiling face made me feel sick.)
Can I just mention for a moment here what a freaking psychopath OJ Simpson is? I know this is a little bit post-the-big-news-blitz about his extra extra creepy book "How I Woulda Killed Her if I Did but I Didn't, Really," but it's in the news again because Newsweek is going to publish excerpts. Just in case anyone thought Newsweek was news & not trash...

Now they know better.

Really, really repugnant. Just thought I'd share.

Creep. There are no words.

This year will be . . . different

Yesterday I held an open house for New Year's Day & invited everyone over for cake and hot chocolate. How lovely to hang out and your friends all come over for a visit on the same day; much more relaxing than throwing a party.

Rose did really really well with the guests and only barked and growled a few times; overall I think she enjoyed the company. She got to put her slimy red rubber ball on lots of people.

Heather & Mary came over, and so did JoAnna & Devin, my mother, Jake (Jake came over a lot; I suppose it's part of being 3 and living next door. And wanting more sweets.), Jossie, Nancy, Gavan, Jason (for about 5 seconds while he wolfed down a piece of cake), Jen, Tricia, Linda (but not Bernie because alas, he was ill), Niki & Renata, and, and...I forget who else, but it was really nice seeing everyone.

The cake was All-Occasion Downy Yellow Butter Cake and the frosting Apricot Buttercream, and it tasted so wonderful that I'm afraid to use adjectives lest someone think I am writing porn.

It was also my birthday but I didn't mention that part to people when I invited them. But they figured it out anyway. It's not as if I don't want to get older or anything, I don't mind that at all, and in a lot of ways I welcome and look forward to maturing more and more. I don't know why I didn't tell people. I guess the best oversimplification would be to say that I didn't want it to be a party about me, but more a party about everybody; just hanging out and yakking about whatever & enjoying each other's company.

Plus when you say it's a birthday party, a lot of people feel obligated to bring gifts and I didn't want that vibe. Oh, yeah, speaking of vibe, my mom got me a new vaccuum cleaner!! (it's called the "Vibe," I'm not kidding, I just about laughed myself silly. Works great and at long last my rug is really clean.

Days in the Life

Just in case anybody thought I was being too hard on my boss, in the last week she kept up with the same routine. She snapped at me for no reason, tried to manipulate me into working more hours, and once again had me make calls to clients that she had alienated. (looking at this written down it seems so minor. I wonder, am I overreacting? NO!! She's a wretch, there just aren't words for it.)

My favorite was the morning she was walking her dogs and saw me in the coffee shop getting tea before work. She waited outside until I came out, and then asked if I wanted to walk around the block with her. Uh, no! How like her to put me in that awkward position. So I told her thanks, but I needed to get to work.

Good news on the job front: Tricia, my upstairs neighbor, has said that she can get me a temp job at her work, the Wright Institute, starting Dec 1. Hopefully this will give me a little breather so I can find a good permanent position somewhere.

Hi Ho, Hi Ho

Monday morning & I'm about to take off for work again. I have a headache.

Things have been a little tense at the office since I put in my notice. I absolutely dread going there, but I gave my word that I would, so I'm a little stuck. SA (my soon to be ex-boss) has been tiptoing around all last week, but I suspect that over the weekend she will have come up with some new bitchy shit to pull.

That's ok, I'm ready for it.

Let's see what transpires.

Troll Girl Quit Job

I quit my job today, yay!!! Not only that, but I got really mad at my boss right in her face and told her off. Hardcore.

Did I mention that this Sunday when I was doing the reading for my anxiety class, I read the wrong chapter? I was supposed to read the one on feeeeeeeeeeelings, but instead I read the one on assertiveness. Oops.

I could get into a detailed analysis of all the ways my boss sucks, but instead I'll just say that she is a blamer who sets her employees up for constant failure. And she's a bully. And she snaps at a person out of the blue like some skanky wrinkled crocodile.

So I read her the riot act. Then, out of the kindness of my very forgiving heart, I condescended to give her 2 weeks notice so she can find some other sap to take the position. Then my coworker arrived on the rather tense scene and I announced that I needed to take a walk (by that time I was really quite upset).

"That's a good idea, let's do that," replied my boss, and she started to follow me out!

So I turned and looked at her and said, "No, not with you. I need to take a walk by myself."

And she sort of stumbled backwards and said of course, of course, that's what she meant. Which was kind of funny.

Then I took a walk up the street, so pissed off I was crying. Which is good, because I love to cry in public.

I am very glad I quit my job.

Fluke Update & Other Momentous Events:

I have my fluke and have been playing it for about 2 weeks and I have to say that it is a dream come true: it's easy to play, the sound is everything I could ask for, plus of course the cool flame motif.

I am practicing every day, and my improvement, though slow, is steady. In fact, I just started putting accompaniment to songs I have written, very fun. Also, I picked up this book on musical theory and chord-building for the ukulele, which after the first few pages is giving me a lot of good insight.

In other news:

• Bought a DVD on hip-hop and am learning how to get down.
• This morning I developed a twitch in the muscles beneath my left eye. Hope it does not indicate stroke or aneurism or anything...
• Watched the entire 1st season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and the 1st seaon of Angel over the weekend. This could be an alternate explanation of the eye twitch.
• Attempted to talk to a guy on Friday and realized I don't know how.

Eye is twitching again, gotta go.

People will kick my trollish butt

I am hearing rumors of dissatisfaction in the ranks due to the fact that I haven't updated this blog in an aeon. Well, wait no more! I can fill you in on all the news right now.

Ok, so, the news:

News.

Yeah, there's gotta be something going on. Yeah.

I feel sleepy.

Flaming Fluke

Fluke! Fluke fluke fluke! Fluke fluke! I just ordered a fluke! I am so very excited!

I've been drooling over this little instrument for a couple of years now, and when I saw one in black with red flames, well, that was it. For those who don't know what a fluke is, it is a sort of ukulele with a triangular shape, made by this small company. The owner of the company makes the ukes. And flukes. And fleas. When I called, the owner's wife picked up the phone & we chatted for a little bit about ukes. Her brother, Jim Beloff, wrote the books I learned to play with.

My fluke won't look exactly like the picture because I'm getting a rosewood neck, so the neck will be red. (Rosewood is more scratch-resistant than the standard material they use, which is some kind of plastic composite. So when I decide I want to be louder, I can put on metal strings without ruining the instrument.)

Whoo hoo!!! I am such a dork, and I don't care.

Also, there are places to attach a strap if one wants, and I do want. Now I feel inspired to knit this pattern I found for a cool guitar strap. Like I said, dork.

Troll Boobs

Tonight I realized that for months or perhaps even years there has been a niggling little question floating around in the back of my head. It roams about and snivels quietly in odd corners, ignored by me because I just didn't want to think about it.

But still the question lingers, until finally today I was forced to acknowledge it: Why on earth do I wear a bra? I must be fucking crazy; why else would I don this torture device every day? I look better with one on, I tell myself. And I don't want people to watch my boobs jiggle (believe me, there is a lot of jiggling going on). And what of the shame should someone see my nipples through my shirt?

So let's balance that against the agony and shoulder aches from wearing bras. I don't mean a little, it hurts a lot, no joke. I think some of this is amplified by old injuries, but if I didn't wear a bra the pain would be much less. Like, ouch.

The thing is, I really like how I look with a bra on, I like my shape better. But what is wrong with me when I am bra-free? Maybe I should work on admiring my trollish shape just the way it is.

I have often thought that if we ever invent anti-gravitaional devices, one of the applications could be in women's undergarments-just turn on your gravitational brassiere and you can have perky breasts with no straps whatsoever. But since that hasn't happened yet, I did the next best thing; googled "comfortable bras" and ordered an all-cotton, no-underwire-having, genuine-made-by-a-women's-collective-in-Seattle UnBra. It'll take 3 weeks to get here, and I can't wait. The color: eggplant, because today I had some roasted eggplant salad at lunch and it was really really good.

Then I logged on to Victoria's Secret and purchased a Body by Victoria Demi Plunge bra with matching hip-hugger panties. I wanted periwinkle blue but of course they were out in my size, so I settled for Whisper Pink.

As a final note, the picture I included here of the lovely Rose may seem unrelated to the text of this entry; but look once again at how relaxed, elegant, and demure she looks--WITHOUT a bra.

Had the best time tonight making crazy invitations with my super cool friend Nancy. The dog kept bugging us with her squeaky ball, plopping it on top of our work when we ignored her. Fairly effective strategy...

Also made this extra good chicken salad with miso-baked chicken; I took nerimiso and spread it over frozen chicken and then baked it (Nerimiso is miso paste, lemon zest, lemon juice, sesame oil and seeds, ginger, and honey). Sliced it while warm and put it over lovely salad greens with organic heritage tomatoes, carrots, and red bell peppers, then topped it off with an Asian-themed sesame-mustard salad dressing. Plus Lime-Mashed Yams. Nancy became uncontrollably enamoured of this meal to the point that I began to fear for her very sanity. Luckily, after some time she was able to collect herself.

The entirely unrelated picture I have posted here is of this absolutely amazing watersnake I encountered on a hike to the creek up at 13 Springs.

Troll Food for Breakfast

Do you ever have that moment when you are faced with two choices, one of which is obviously the correct one, filled with health and the promise of a glorious day, the other a sure path to bloated sogginess and a pulpy stomachache? And then make the wrong choice even though you know better?

That was me this morning when I decided to eat macaroni and cheese for breakfast even though I had organic eggs and heritage tomatoes fresh from the farmer's market, which I could have cooked up with herbs snipped that minute from my little herb garden. But the allure of mac-n-cheese was too strong! Mmmm, salt and grease and cheesy (I suppose you can't really call it goodness if it makes you sick, can you?) ness.

What trollish contrariness to choose that hellish breakfast with complete disregard for the consequences! (though there may have been a twinge of uneasiness in there) How brave of me to chow down on crap food when I have the option of gourmet delicacy! how ridiculous to claim that mac-n-cheese is troll food when obviously a troll in the forest would be dining on roots and grubs or something!

Yet Another Day in the Life

I have this tight spot in my shoulder that sort of goes all the way down to my fingertips and makes them feel a bit raw. It is an odd and not entirely pleasant sensation, but I have hopes that it will pass. My hands feel like freshly cut fingernails, yuck.

In other news, this afternoon I was walking the dog on my block and this woman (whom I see from time to time around the hood; she is in her fifties perhaps, and always wears light blue and looks a bit uptight) was looking extra wound up today and was talking to herself. Just a little bit, real quiet like. She had on a white straw hat and her usual light blue garb. I thought, oh, ok, here's that chick, and she's a little more wound up than usual.

Then at 10 pm I was walking Rose and I saw her again and she was in much worse shape, talking to herself far less subtly and wandering all over the sidewalk. I was wondering if I should approach her and help her home or something, but by the time I got turned around with the dog and had thought about it a bit, she was gone.

If there is a point to this story I don't know what it is. But I hope that lady is ok.

And can I add that the whole time I have been writing this, Rose has been shoving her squeak toy against my ankles in a vain attempt to get me to play with her. It is very distracting.

As a sort of stiff-upper-lipped British aside, I think I'll mention here that Rhys has moved out and is staying with our friend Trevor. I didn't want to reveal this but I figured that eventually people would notice anyway, so I might as well make a clean breast of things. Are we breaking up? I don't know. Should people feel very sorry for me or us? No, we feel sorry enough for ourselves. Plus, this is not some fiery horrific breakup sort of thing but more of a re-evaluation of our relationship.

I'm sorry but I just can't cast this in trollish terms, it makes me too tired.

Hot Sticky Trolls

Despite the title of this entry, I am not writing some sort of troll porn or hairy diva fetishistic thingummy. That's just how I felt last weekend up in Sonoma in the 106 degree heat.

My lovely cousin Clare was with us, visiting for the first time in Sonoma. She is 32 and lives in London where she grew up (my mom's sister married an English guy). She was on the tail end of a round-the-world tour that included paddling up the Amazon River, visiting Cambodia and Laos, and other astounding places that I can't imagine going to. She is really really cool, but not cool enough to make the heat any less miserable. But who cares! We all went down the steep steep hill to the creek and swam/waded around (it is a fairly small creek, at least in the summer). I saw these amazing water snakes, and all kinds of dragonflies, and steelhead trout. Paradise! At least until we tried to hike back up, and then it was evilly, sinfully, hellishly hot and steep and filled with horror.

I planned this great BBQ but it was way too hot to cook, even outdoors, so we dined on cheese, crackers, and peaches.

Sunday it was even more hot and all we did was lie around, groan with misery, and occasionally run into the bathhouse to take cold showers.

New Jersey Mini-Trollen

Just got back on Monday from New Jersey where Rhys & I went to see our nieces get baptized. They're 4 months old, and though I am not particularly a baby person, I still think they are cute. Zoe is the one with all the dark hair. Kathleen is the one with the stick-out ear and less hair. (she's Rhys' goddaughter).These are the twin daughters of Rhys' brother, Marcus. The mom is Cindy. Cindy is 6 feet tall and a dentist.

So enough about family already. Here's what there is to do in NJ: be very hot and sticky. And drink copious amounts of Corona Light with wedges of lime. Go to the beach, but not if you are like me and tend to get burnt to a crisp.

Here's a shot of Rhys in church. I think we were all a little disappointed that the church did not burst into flame when he entered the vestibule. In case you can't tell from the pic, Rhys is subtly flipping me off. Naughty, naughty.

OOOoooh! News flash! On a completely different topic, the post office is making superhero stamps. Though Catwoman is not one of them, dammit! But Shua will be pleased to hear that Green Arrow is. It's just not fair! Why does Catwoman always get dissed at moments like this?

The Dizzying Trollness of it All

Sometimes when I'm on my way to work I want to give up, lie down on the pavement in despair and ..well, I don't know what exactly would happen next, which is mostly why I haven't done it. But it's hard to keep from falling into that sort of abyss. I laugh at myself, try to chide myself out of it, etc, and keep a running, slightly mocking refrain in my head "poor baby, feel so sorry for me!"

I've always avoided thinking about depression, thinking what's the point? If I dwell on things they'll just get blown up out of proportion & get worse. Plus, I hate to be a complainer. Plus, I don't want people to feel sorry for me. I don't think I'm clinically depressed or anything, just real sad these days.

What's a troll to do? Thinking about seeing a doctor, but haven't gotten it together. Then perhaps I would become Zoloft Troll. Or Zolltroll for short. Something.

Weed of the Day: French Broom Update

So this last weekend we were up at 13 Springs Ranch, and I nagged and nagged at Rhys until he cut down the big bush of French Broom and the slightly smaller bush that it had engendered. Now I just need to pull seedlings for the next five years and the problem is solved!

Blog Slacker

I am told by my readers that I am becoming derelict in my blogging duties. Aieeeee! Looking back, I realize it has been 12 days since my last post; but what can I say? Now that I have a job, I can't just sit around blogging all day dammit!

Here is a picture I drew of Howard Stern, who, though most don't know it, is secretly a troll.

So I am rummaging around in my head trying to find interesting items to tell you all, but the only thing I can think of is the bag of wooden nickels that spontaneously combusted at the Farmer's Market the other day, and since this tidbit was given me by the only person who regularly reads this blog, it seems redundant to post it here. But I am doing it anyway.

What else is there to tell? I found a really, REALLY gross and disgusting tick on my dog that could not have been on her for more than a day and a half, but was bloated to the size of a dime. When I pulled it off my dog bled sluggishly for about 10 minutes after. I think the tick had hit a vein or something. Ultradisgusting.

Speaking of dogs and gross things, my boss' dog Freckles chewed the base of his tail absolutely raw and now has one of those cone things on his head. He is miserable in the extreme and keeps moping about the office, trying to get under my desk to lie down (but he can't because his cone gets caught on things).

Other interesting news: Rhys is gonna be a godfather to one of our nieces (he can't remember which one). So this summer we get to fly out to New Jersey for the christening. I can only imagine that my brother-in-law wants his daughter to be subverted from the Catholic faith, since Rhys has no love for organized religion in general, to put it mildly. Plus he's married to a pagan.

For Linda! Weed of the Day: Yellow Nutsedge

Cyperus esculentus "Yellow Nutsedge" looks like a grass but is actually a sedge. I am basically unable to find any positive discussion of this plant, though I do think it is pretty. And it has a tenacious grip on life.

So here's the lowdown: Yellow Nutsedge is a perennial sedge that propegated via seed and tubers. Tubers are capable of propegating 1,900 plants and 7,000 additional tubers annually. Infestations are extremely difficult to eradicate. In this post I read on davesgarden.com (last post on page) the writer had tried for 20 years to get rid of it, without success.

Getting rid of it:

1) pull seedlings before they develop tubers.

2) Do not allow seedheads to survive.

3) Put down HEAVY barriers, such as thick rubber mats. Nutsedge will grow through normal weed barriers, and through many other things, including cement.

4) Dig out tubers, which grow up to 18" below surface of soil (making soil solarization a pointless exercise). This will have to be repeated according to accounts I have read.

5) Use chemicals. Since Yellow Nutsedge is impervious to Roundup or any other weedkiller available through retail, I recommend hiring a professional. However, due to the tubers, applications must be repeated yearly.

I still think it's kinda pretty. In the wild, turkeys feed on the seeds, and pigs (another ineradicable pest) root for the tubers.

Let's Talk About Noxious Weeds

I took this pic on the path above Goat Rock Beach last year; it features thistles, those ultra prickly weeds that you just don't want to mess with unless you're wearing rhinocerous-hide gloves. I don't know what kind of thistle they are, as there are about 20 zillion different species of thistles. I'm posting this pic as an example of how beautiful even the most noxious of weeds can be.

Over the last week I have seen a lot of references to 'noxious weeds' in my online weed research. 'Noxious' seems like overkill to me, I mean, it's just a plant, right? Then I noticed that often this designation is followed by draconian efforts to remove said weed, efforts which are frequently in vain.

Here's a definition I found on the BLM weed website: a noxious weed is any plant designated by a Federal, State or county government as injurious to public health, agriculture, recreation, wildlife or property. (Sheley, Petroff, and Borman,1999). In other words, it's a plant that fucks shit up for people. I suspect that as this is a legal distinction, it affects what treatments one can legally apply to said weed in order to remove it.

Also, a noxious weed can be defined as a plant growing where it is not wanted while at the same time being persistent, spreading, invasive, and difficult to remove. In other words, it's a real obnoxious pain in the ass, hence the use of the pejorative 'noxious.'

References

Sheley, R.,J. Petroff, M.. Borman, 1999. Introduction to Biology and Management of Noxious Rangeland Weeds, Corvallis, OR.

I keep forgetting

It's funny how there can be one simple thing that one fails to remember again and again. For example, I keep forgetting to give Linda this present that I have had for her since her birthday in November. I don't know how many times she has been over and I just don't think to give it to her!

Maybe she will read this blog entry and then remind me about her present the next time she visits.

Weed of the Day: French Broom

French Broom, or Genista monspessulana, is a pretty bush, ranging from 7-10 feet tall, with soft green leaves, and in spring it is covered with small, cheerful yellow flowers.

It is actually a memeber of the legume family, and makes little pea pods for its seeds. I didn't see anything about it when I looked, but if it is a member of the pea family, then it probably adds nitrogen to the soil, yes? Or fixes it, or whatever.

It is from the Mediterranean, and people used to make brooms with it. I tried to make a broom a couple of years ago from one in my yard, but the leaves would fall all over the floor when I tried to sweep. Next time I'll remove the leaves beforehand.

It has been used a lot for erosion control, and in gardens, and from there it has escaped into the wild and naturalized itself. This is the "weed" part of French Broom; it is very aggressive and pushes out native shrubs like Coyote Brush and Rabbit Brush.

Leaves, seeds, and flowers are toxic. French Broom grows in dense stands that take over meadows (pushing out grazing animals) and shade out tree seedlings. They are oily and burn very hot, so supposedly they are a fire hazard, but (with apologies to all the manzanitas and chaparrals) what bush in California is not a fire hazard?

People get rid of it by hand pulling and by burning, and with herbicides. According to a study (click here for pdf file) by the California Exotic Pest Plant Council, the most effective way is to treat the plants with herbicide, then cut them down, and then burn the area.

Weed of the Day: Foxtail

Here is the common, invasive foxtail we are all used to seeing; it is actually a kind of barley. (Maybe everyone but me knew this already.) I'm not the best identifier, and there are a lot of grasses in the world, but I am pretty sure this is Hare Barley, Hordeum murinum, subspecies leporinum.

(hordeum is Latin for barley, lepidorinum means rabbit, I think)

Mostly when I see foxtail, all I think is keep the dog away! because the spiky dry seeds are like little barbed arrows that can burrow into dogs' ears and paws, causing infection and pain. Apparently they do the same thing to grazing animals like cattle, sheep, deer, elk, etc, and cause "lumpjaw" when the dried seedheads are eaten. But this is when the grass has dried, while it is green it is pretty innocuous.

Foxtail is tough. It is herbicide resistant, it can grow almost anywhere, it is a cool-weather annual grass that is short-lived and doesn't need much water, and it can take over the place! For control (and I do like to contain this one, simply because it is not local to my area-it's a European native-and can push out other grasses. And also because I don't like taking my dog to the vet to pull infected crap out of her ears.) Mow when seedheads are developed but still green, then solarize the seedheads. Or compost them, but only if you are a better composter than I and can count on your pile getting nice and hot and killing all the seeds. Or if this is a pastureland issue, then plow the grass under and reseed with something competitive.

Foxtail, like any other weed, does not exist in a vacuum of evil. I have to admire this grass for growing in the most dreary wastelands and finding a way to flourish almost anywhere. It also has been used for medicinal purposes: the Chippewa Indians used to make a poultice out of it for eye problems. According to another source, it is also useful as a diuretic, using a decotion of the plant.

The seeds are edible and can be cooked in porridge or ground into flour.

It can be used as a quick-growing ground cover to prevent erosion.

It is pretty.

But let's face it, it's a weed. The key words here are invasive non-native.

Instituting the Weed of the Day

Ever since I was a small child covered in oozing poison oak rash, I have been fascinated by weeds. These hardy, much-maligned plants can be beautiful, ugly, prickly, smooth, smell bad, smell great, be poisonous, be edible, in fact be about anything.

The only thing the group of plants known as weeds have in common is that they flourish whether we want them to or not. I like that! These hardy plants have plenty of spunk, and are often medicinal, or edible, or good for the soil, or provide protection and food for birds and animals. More and more often, proponents of permaculture and companion gardens urge gardeners to keep a "wild zone" near their cultivated areas so that the garden can benefit from proximity to weeds.

And I like them.

Today's Weed of the Day is the sow thistle, or sonchus oleraceus. The sow thistle grows to be about 3 or 4 feet tall, and has dandelion-like flowers; it is a bit prickly, but less so than prickly lettuce, and it is edible (but bitter). I have read that the young leaves are good in salads, and when eating older leaves or stems it is good to cook them in several changes of water.

Sow thistle is prolific, and will happily cluster anywhere that doesn't get mowed. Oh, and rabbits and pigs like to eat it! So if I ever get rabbits, I will have plenty of sow thistle to feed them.

Sometimes my sow thistles are literally covered in aphids; there are a couple of schools of thought on this: the anti-weed people think that sow thistles attract aphids into the garden and therefore we should douse these innocent plants in toxic chemicals to make them go away forever. Other people think that maybe the sow thistle is attracting the aphids away from the plants we want to protect; even better, there's the thought that these aphid colonies create a food source for predators like hoverflies, etc, attracting beneficial insects to the garden.

Finally, sow thistles are a food source for a number of species of butterfly larvae. So yay for the sow thistle!

I would love to hear comments from people about the sow thistle, or who have a favorite weed they would like me to feature.

I Return Triumphant from the Hunt

I got a job working for this amazing garden designer who incorporates native Californian plants in her landscapes. I am very happy, and also typing incoherently due to large infusions of coffee.

Not sure if it is because of or despite my trollishness. Regardless, I am optimistic about this one; I searched long and hard, and really tried to find a place that would not send me spiraling down into depression, shame, and peniture. In other words, I sought a job that would be almost entirely different from my last hellish servitude at the EG.

And can I just add that if any of the two readers who read this blog should happen to consider working at the EG, stop it right now; you will be underpaid and abused by both the clients and your supervisors. Especially your supervisors, as it is their lame systems and morale-sapping policies that create bad service for which the clients call up and yell at you. It is a horrible, horrible place.

But I don't intend to allow this entry to degenerate into a long-winded rant about my last position. I want to focus instead on my rosy future with a really cool garden designer who started her business from scratch some 15 or so years ago. She hired me as an office admin, but since I am the only office worker, I will essentially be the office manager. Good starting pay, 3/4 time, and health benefits.

Plus I get to work in a little cottage nestled in a beautiful garden, right near the shops and restaurants on Solano Ave. Happy troll is me.

Wedding Troll

There must be some sort of consequence to having a troll help you pick out so important a garment as a wedding dress. But what would it be? My imagination fails me, and I can't find any folktales on the subject, so I guess we'll have to wait and see.

Spent the day Monday with my extra cool friend Linda (see previous posts for more on that) hunting through Berkeley and Oakland for her wedding gown.

Our itinerary:
Patina on Solano Ave (really nice salesperson, wonderful eclectic selection of fashions with a good quality and a real Berkeley feel). They had this really cool green silk jacket/shirt (pictured) that Linda loved.

4th St to visit Molly B's (more casual than I recall), Anthropologie (ugh), and some other stores that were rather blah.

Then back to Oakland where we ate lunch, walked to this place I can't remember the name of that is on Piedmont Ave (they have a lot of Chinese silks, and they specialize in custom embroidery).

As our last stop, we drove to Soiree on College Ave. Which was closed, so we went across the street to Chic, the first store I have ever been to that sells t-shirts for $315.

Which was where Linda unexpectedly found her perfect outfit!! We were so excited!!! Really, we had planned this day as more of an initial exploration and idea-gathering jaunt than an actual earnest search. So finding the ONE was a truly unforeseen fortunate EVENT. And it definitely made up for the snooty saleswoman who wouldn't let us take a pic of Linda trying on things (which we had been doing all day with no problems at all).

The Dress:
By the designer Nataya, who is Uzbekistanian (originally, but now she lives in Rome) and specializes in vintage-style clothing, especially 20's and 30's styles. I don't know if Linda would want me to post a picture of the actual dress, so I will just say that 1) it is from the Fall 2005 collection and 2) it looks 20,000,000 times better on Linda than it does on the model.

Still Life with Envelopes

So I had my interview today with the Poster Compliance people. It was in a storage room, and I snagged my tights on a huge box of mail. This is possibly the most boring business ever created; they specialize in making the posters that go in the back hall of your work that tell you what minimum wage is, etc. I suppose it is a useful, hence noble, occupation.

Yawn.

The people are nice. I liked watching their eyes bug out as I described operations at my last job. So I guess I'd be willing to work there if they pay me enough. With this in mind, I asked for both my interviewers' email addresses (so I could write a pretty little thank you letter). One of them doesn't check her email, which blows my mind, and which means that I had to not only write the letters but *gasp* print them out and mail them.

Which is why I now have a stack of ruined envelopes on my kitchen table; my cheap-assed printer kept jamming. Very irritating, and after a while I got this look of grim determination on my face as I fed envelope after envelope into its gaping maw. Eventually I printed out two envelopes correctly, only to find that Word had loaded the wrong address on them.

On the Hunt

For the past month I've been job-hunting, and I'm finally starting to get the hang of it. So much so that I am actually enjoying writing cover letters in a sort of masochistic, picking-at-scabs sort of way. Can I get a job getting jobs?

Perhaps I should wait until I actually get a job before I embark on a career of finding employment. Then I could put "proven ability to get a job" on the resume as one of my skills.

On another note, my really cool friend Linda came over this afternoon. I was so excited! Linda is so cool it's like having an air conditioner turned on when she comes in the door. She's so PC environmental activists blush with shame when they see her. And she's so hip, she actually has this blog as her homepage on her computer at work!

Which, since I'm not really sure that anyone else at all reads this blog, puts me in the interesting position of writing for an audience of (most likely) one. And this brings up a question or two. For example, should I be writing about Linda in the third person?

Maybe I should address you directly, Linda.

Ooh, wait, maybe not. It's always a little creepy when your computer begins to address you directly. Sorry, Linda!

But the best thing of all was we got to look at wedding dresses for Linda. Sadly, we didn't really find any she liked. Why are they all so freakin alike? It's not just that they are all white, but we couldn't find any with sleeves, either. 20,000 white strapless dresses that you can only wear once. Yikes.

Here, Linda! I found you a dress: it's not white, and it's not strapless. You just have to learn not to breathe while you wear it.

Have a Trollish Day

Ever have one of those extra-trollish days, where any little thing can set you off? Not due to pms, or bad weather, money troubles, relationship difficulties or any normal, understandable irritants, you just woke up on the wrong side of the bed?

In a way, I enjoy days like these as they give me permission speak my mind about things that I normally let slide (since I am just such a mellow person). It's a great time to let out all those pet peeves I've been storing up, thinking I was so tolerant and understanding, and then one day-pow! right in the kisser. Like this:

"Honey?"
"Unh."
"Could you please clean your hair out of the bathroom sink?"
"What?" (it's 5:30 in the morning and he was completely asleep)
"I said would you get up and clean your hair out of the bathroom sink."
"What the fuck-"
"Because I keep having to pick up after you. I'm sick of it."
"Shut up." (rolls over and pulls a pillow over his head)
"No, you shut up!"
"What the fuck is your problem?"
"You. You're the problem. Why should I have to deal with your hair all over the sink?" (by now I am throbbing with righteous wrath)
"It's too early for this. Jesus Christ!"
"What. What? What! Look, you're upsetting the dog, you jerk!"

At this point if I am lucky he'll actually get pissed off (instead of just grumpy). Then he sits up in bed, and his face turns red, he gets this throbbing vein on his forehead, and his eyes shoot these lazer beams out that sear holes in the sheetrock.

Later in the day I act confusingly nice to him. It's all part of my master plan. Besides, it's nice to take my bad moods out on Rhys since I am always confident that he can take what I dished out, and he has inflicted enough of his moods on me that I know he deserves to get dumped on. So it's a real win-win situation.