Stupid people...

I should not call them stupid, but instead maybe cheaters or simply lazy or uncaring. As I mentioned in a previous post. I am working on building my fabric stash for quilting. I do a lot of my shopping online as I can find the best deal available and have an international selection at my fingertips rather than just what a local buyer considers the best options to present.

Well, I want to post a few pictures and waaaaaaah a bit about fabric cutters that truly blow. I will name these places, because I am a huge proponent of 'rating' or 'reviewing' establishmets and organizations that do a great job because good customer service and treatment is fading. On the same token, those places who do not give good service get their fair shake as well.

I absolutely abhor coming home with a arm full of brand new and exciting fabric to discover my cutter didn't straighten the fabric or cut a piece that had an obvious flaw (such as bad weave, bad print, etc.) Look at this picture:



This piece of fabric was cut from a local fabric shop Gee Gee's Quilting in Yelm, Washington http://geegeesquilting.com/ I have been cheated by them so many times and have called them to speak with them about it and they tell me that it's not a cut issue but a manufacturer's issue. Huh? The lady that I spoke with went on to tell me that the manufacturer often prints fabric crooked. Double Huh? If you know a manufacturer presents lousy merchandise why do you continue to purchase and sell? Tough questions she didn't know how to answer. I asked her the solution to the issue and she told me I needed to 'buy' more fabric than what was called for to ensure I had enough. WHAT???? Unbelievable.

Look at this picture:



This piece was cut from JoAnn's in Olympia West. Please tell me how anyone could miss cutting a straight line on this fabric? Ridiculous! I paid for that inch of fabric I didn't get.. It's actually two inches if you take in to account both sides. The manager at the JoAnn asked me, "Well, what are you making with the fabric?" Obviously I am not making a piece of clothing as the piece wouldn't cover my forearm. I look at her sideways and she said, "Oh, well, if you are quilting you can stil use the fabric that isn't cut on a straight line..." Huh? This is what I mean by "People Are Stupid!"

My latest endeavor...

My daughter moved into her own place two weeks ago which left her bedroom open for my new creative space. I love it! The first thing I did was set my sewing machine table...



... and then the wonderful ironing station that my friend Kristina constructed for me. It is a piece of pressboard covered with batting and then covered with canvas. The frame beneath was affixed after it was set atop the ironing board to ensure a tight fit.



I found this lovely table on Craigslist and will use it as my cutting station. There is a funny story that goes along with fetching this great adjustable table (by IKEA.) It turned into a midnight escapade for Kristina and me, but we made it back and I love, love, love this table.



Now those pink curtains have to go! Sunlight comes in the windows in the afternoon bathing my beautiful creative palace into a nauseating sea of buuuahck! I ran over to Ross and picked up a few Voile plaid sheer panels and hung them between the black panels. I like the way that it turned out.



Now I am collecting fabrics to build my stash, washing, ironing, planning. It's fun to have enough space to let the creative juices flow!

And the path takes an unexpected turn . . .

I found out yesterday, during my annual eye check up, that I have macula degeneration AND I have the early makings of cataracts. Great! I am not surprised my eyes take this path because my dad has macula degeneration and both my maternal grandparents and my maternal great grandmother had it too. I was surprised that my eyes are giving up on me so soon in my life. The doc said that it is something he doesn't normally see until the age of 50; I'm about to turn 46. So, I begin the path of discovery through education and learning how to take better care of something I treasure... my sight.

So far the only thing I know is there are two different kinds of Macula Degen.

Oh, I did learn that the inhaled steroid laced medicine my doctor prescribed for my asthma is directly related to glaucoma and cataracts. Maddening since I asked my physician to prescribe me a medicine that did not include steroids. Their response was, "There are only minimal amounts of steroids." She refused to prescribe a different medicine. Now I have cataracts. The first thing I do today is call my physician and ask to have a new asthma medicine prescribed.

More to come I'm sure.

Evolution . . .

Everything seems to finally be changing at work – I hope for the better. I really like my job, and I am good at it, but more than anything else it keeps a roof over my head. I know that is not the best reason to stay, but it is the best I can do at the moment. Back when I decided to work towards a career in Human Resources, I had something very different in mind. It took me half my life to realize why I was never happy in career roles that had no people connection – I am a humanitarian. Once I discovered that about me it seemed only natural that HR would be the best choice for a happy career. Sadly, after the last two years it feels as though something inside me is trying to reconsider the direction I am taking. Maybe I should have turned left. Everyone around me points me in the direction of writing for a living, but it is so scary to take a step in that direction. A friend of mine asked me to look into Grant writing. We will see…

Something in my constitution has not been thrilled about taking chances since my surgery. I think when something that drastic happens it shakes a good dose of reality into a person. In the five and a half years since then I have yet to bounce back to my old self. Suddenly, I realize I have not the means to support myself into retirement. If something were to happen to my j.o.b., at this point, I would be homeless. Eleven years ago I sold my house, packed my daughter and a few belongings and moved us way way beyond the mighty Mississipp. I started out on that adventure with less than $4,000.00 in my pocket and a chest full of hope. I would no more take that journey than most if it were now.

Maybe it was not the surgery that drapes my sense of adventure, but aging. I turned forty just after they eliminated that little schwannoma. Maybe I would have begun this spiral into reality anyway – I will never know the answer to that wondering.

A part of my latest dose of reality is that I am alone. I can really feel that more than ever, and it means something to me now. That does not mean I am suddenly interested in throngs of friends and commitments that leave me drained and empty inside. It means the fact that while talking to people about their weekend activities that I have none of what seems to be ‘normal’.

Each time I use the word ‘normal’ I think of a dear friend from the past – Tommy. Each time I used the word in his presence he would ask, rhetorically, “What is normal?” Indeed…

Sometimes it is scary to be 3000 miles away from everyone that knows and hopefully loves me. Sometimes it feels safe, though.

I have spent so much of my last two years in an apparent state of sleep walking back into the past trying to recapture the me I became after spreading my wings. My thirties were the best years thus far, because they were filled with adventure, discovery, independence and self-fulfilling prophecy. I became more than I ever dreamed I would be and that all seems lost to me now. But, this morning, just now, I realized that I have been doing what so many adults do – spend too much time trying to recapture their youth. Oh my, I am one of those. I suppose it is time for me to realize that I have evolved from the place on the lifeline that brought me so much joy and happiness.

Okay… I accept that time has elapsed, and no longer am I the same spiritual being, and that the part of me that I missed has not departed, but is trying desperately to transform and evolve into something even greater… better. Is it a matter of letting go? What do I do next? I suddently feel like a toddler again. –sigh-

My Luck . . .

I worked a year and a half doing not only my job, but my bosses job in large part while working hard to finish my degree. In the fall of '09 I had to drop a class because work was requiring me to do even more. Now I can't return to school until after I pay the school back for that course.

My boss walks in after her weekly administration meeting with an unusual glow on her face and explained that she had just been given not only her bonus, but an additional amount that she wasn't expecting.

Since I've known her she's left work at 2:30 in the afternoon, if not earlier. She spends her time shopping the web, procrastinating, making excuses rather than doing. My coworker and I have worked 10 to 12 hour days consistently at great sacrifice to our personal endeavors and family.

This experience has taught me so much, especially the kind of boss I will be if I am ever asked to lead again.

I know, now, that I will likely never complete my education and most likely will never reach my goal of management. I never reached for management just so I could be a boss, but more because I want to affect change.

It's tough accepting the fact that I will be a follower for the rest of my days on this journey.

Revelations

Courtney and I had dinner together tonight. On the way out she saw a couple of my scarves in the floor of my car and made a smirky remark about one of them being hers. I told her they were not hers and she responded in a tone and with a look that I wish I didn't know. I wasn't going to argue with her, especially since in gutted me clear to my toes that she spoke to me as she did; self-righteous and arrogant with raised eyebrows and all.

I just came in and went straight to the shower... then tossed the scarves in the sink for a quick soak then hung them to dry. I'll give them to her tomorrow as I couldn't bear to wear them anymore.

Did you know you shouldn't trust just anyone with person info? Well, on my way home from work yesterday I called my pops to say hello, as I often do on the way home. We were just chatting and I told him of a new game my friend and I were playing 'against' another team with the goal of losing weight and changing our lives to healthy ones. In the conversatoin I mentioned that I weighed more than I have... he said nothing out of the ordinary, but the very next morning he decided that he was no longer going to come here on holiday, but would rather have Courtney come out and visit...Oh of course I am invited later on in the year... 'after' I have had a chance to lose the weight. He has never accepted that I'm not the daughter he wishes I were. :(

On the way home from the restaurant I imagined being in a horrid accident. It was one of those life and death accidents where I was hanging by a thread. I've imagined them before and have always dreamed or felt as though I would fight the white light to hang around tonight, though. Tonight the overwhelming feeling of lying back and letting go came over me so quickly and so thick that I could truly put myself in the fantasy. It was easy to just let go and drift away. It was almost peaceful.

I've always thought I was either part cat or still hadn't learned the lesson(s) I was meant to learn this round so would never die; especially early. It is kind of scary to not fear death though... I'm just tired. I'm tired of pretending life is fair and good and keeping a stiff upper lip and a positive attitude and turning the other cheek. I don't really think of me as being negative just accepting. I don't hate anyone, or harbor much ill will toward anyone (almost there though.) I just believe a whole lot less than I have all my life. I'm tired of hoping.

I surrender... I aquiesce... It is... merely, what it is.

A Mess...

Darkness dwells around me once again. I certainly understand why so many people end this journey. Tired of riding the roller coaster feeling good one day and complete despair the next. I don't understand... I can't help but ask me if this is the life I was meant to live? Detours, dead ends, winding roads leading to nowhere. Sometimes I feel like wandering off into the woods like an animal, or maybe that is what I've been doing for the last ten years... wandering off deep into the woods so as not to bring suffering to those who love me. I live pay check to pay check being able to put very little away to support me when I am too old to work. I have tried to finish school, but my work gets in the way and has caused me to drop classes and that only adds further financial burden. I have discovered that I know fear for the first time in my life, and I deplore the feeling. Feeling... This feels like a what it must feel like to a wild animal that has been caged. I am too independent, and not nearly needy enough for a man to find much worth in me, and though many people say there are plenty of men out there who like bigger sized women I call bull. The only men that like women who look like me are those who lack self-confidence and are in as bad shape mentally/emotionally as I. What good what it be to mix that cocktail? I have grown tired of pretending all is great and wonderful out of fear of running off the few people who have stuck by me. After all, who wants a fat girl singing the blues around to cheer them up? My baby is 19 and you know she's thinking of how she wants her life to begin. Empty nest never felt so rotten. When she leaves there will officially be no one. The folks say there is no shame in coming home. Of course, I know that... It's not shame, but the wild animal in a cage just thinking about that journey. There is a reason I left home 10 years ago and it was not because I don't love and adore my family. I would love to be able to hang blame on Dan for how he treated me over the four years I knew him, but I can't really do that. He did open my eyes and show me how absolutely naive I was as far as men and who they really are and what they really want from women. Maybe that's part of the mean... Before I met and experienced him I at least held hope that there was some truth to the statement, "There is someone for everyone." That's utter bullshit. Dan was kind enough to point out to me that most everything I am needed to be changed to be desirable by a man because men desired women who were delicate and demure. If a woman can drive their own nail, repair the stairs/plumbing/change the oil and a flat, haggle with a mechanic, barter with trade folks, mow the lawn, etc. she wasn't delicate (needy) enough to feed a man's macho isms. I tried for four years to reinvent the wheel to the point where I completely lost who I am. I can't even remember what it feels like to know inner joy or circumstantial happiness. I have been convinced that no one wants a woman like me, so I guess my heart and soul have stopped trying to find someone to share life with... it's easier, for the most part, to sojourn alone (even though it feels less and less like a sojourn these days.) There isn't a part of me that feels the elation of the spirit. I'm just dead inside. I get up, make coffee, take a shower, go to work, beat my head against the wall there, come home and am so exhausted I just become one with the furniture until it is time to start the program all over again. It is merely programmed survival. There is no quality of life right now... and I don't see it for my future. So what's the point??? It would be so much easier to just say, "I've had enough... I give," and cry "Uncle".