dancing on the edge of the catastrophe curve

Today has been crazed.

Today has been a symphony of computer problems, freezing office, lunch issues and job wonkiness, and in the midst of it all, my sippy cup sprung a leak and nearly pushed me over the edge. I held it together through an act of will. Ok, I got distracted by another crisis. But I didn’t have a sippy-cup spaz & I’m pretty sure that’s all that counts.

My new and interesting set of responsibilities make the day fly by like nobody’s business, but it’s easy to let the new crises pile up until I’m buried. I actually made someone wait for something today, while I finished up another thing, which I don’t think I’ve ever done. It felt strange.

I’m not sure if I was in a rut before this week or not, but if I was, I’m well out of it now. Nonstop craziness will do that for you.

save me from myself

We went for sushi on Sunday with a few of our favorite people, and lingered over it for a while, talking and watching some spectacular lightning out the window.

When we left, I ended up in front of our little train of people, and upon opening the door, I was hit full on by a wall of water driven by a 90-mile-an-hour wind, and … I kind of lost my head. I screeched in panic, and then pelted at a full run for the car, followed by everyone else. There may have been laughing and screaming.

Once safely in the truck, I couldn’t stop laughing, because it was so absurd, but my sweetie, also laughing, asked why I hadn’t just stepped back into the restaurant to exchange hugs and say our goodbyes and maybe send someone out to the car to get an umbrella. And, well. I don’t know. I have certainly been known to panic, or make illogical decisions, or pick the wrong thing, or get the math wrong, but here’s the important bit:

No one ever stops me.

No one ever says “Wait! Let’s do it this way.” Because, presented with a sane choice, I will nearly always go “Oh. Right. That makes much more sense.” I totally know how to say “I stand corrected,” and have done when the occasion presents itself.

So why don’t people do that more often? Am I really so formidable? So fragile? So commanding? So fast? (OK, I was pretty fast last Sunday in the rainstorm, but really, it was a wall of water and a 90-mile-an-hour wind, and I defy you to simply stroll, umbrella-less, through an unexpected monsoon.)

In this case it end without tragedy: we’re all pretty waterproof, we exchanged text-hugs later and no one died, but seriously, someone say something in future. I promise I won’t yell or cry or get all offended. I promise!

waiting for the other shoe to drop

Last week sucked.

On Thursday, we got a nastygram from our HOA, telling us, basically, “Paint your house or we’ll cut you”. It wasn’t entirely unexpected, since the last monsoon powerwashed a couple chunks of stucco off the front of the house, but I’d not budgeted for probably-two-or-three-grand-worth of paint job, and it’s going to hurt.

(I’m in favor of our HOA in general; our dues are pretty low, our common areas are nicely kept, and our neighborhood is generally pretty cool[1]. But still … bleh.)

Then we got our taxes done on Friday, and holy crap, did we not need that just now. How can we claim married and zero exemptions, and still be on the hook? We didn’t have a lot of Reliquary expenses, but since we also didn’t make any profit, it’s only a matter of time before the IRS gets all “this is a hobby!” on our asses.

Then we tried to have Reliquary practice, but Cubase was all “Yeah, I have no idea what you’re talking about” every time we tried to get it to, y’know, play the music. (We’d gotten a new studio computer a few months ago to replace the dying, 7-year-old one we’d been using, and had just gotten it up and running. Except that the 6-year-old copy of Cubase wasn’t playing nice with the new OS.) So we’ll have to upgrade. And there go several hundred more dollars.

(I mean, I know we’ll be able to claim the expense next year on our taxes, but see above re: hobby. Unless Reliquary starts making money [on which we will have to pay taxes, argh vicious circle argh], it’s going to look more and more like a hobby to the IRS and it could get ugly. We could just eat the cost, but if Reliquary does make any money, we’ll have to claim it, so it makes sense to claim expenses as well. Gah, this sucks.)

And in the face of Loki’s demotion and ridiculous pay cut, it’s all just too hard. We’ve slashed our budget and I though we were economizing fairly well, but we’ve not been able to build our emergency fund back up, and I’m just terrified of the future. My spreadsheet is predicting, if not doom, then certainly stress and worry.

We’re going to have to make some unpleasant choices fairly soon. I’m just hoping nothing else falls out of the sky to smash our fragile little financial ecosystem.

[1] Notwithstanding the delinquent fuck who smashed into Loki’s truck last week & stole my black bass, the one he’s been playing with The Low Men. Yeah, there went another $500.

broken

Two very long, early-starting, long-running days on a construction site, shooting videos of the construction, equals a broken me. You wouldn’t think that’d be so bad, would you? I certainly didn’t.

And yet, everything hurts, I can barely move and I’ve got a headache that’s off the charts.

It wasn’t so much the standing around for hours, or the trying-to-hold-very-very-still while videoing without a tripod, or the high-stepping through the debris, or the long (high-stepping) walks required to get to anywhere, or the unaccustomed weight of a hard hat on my head, but all of that, combined, two days in a row. Oh, and I wasn’t exactly fit to begin with, bleh.

On the plus side, it was interesting to watch, if somewhat dangerous at times. But I didn’t die, so well done me!

The plan now is plenty of stretching and hot soaks, and hopefully I will be human again soon.

mishmash

I kinda feel like I wanted a longer weekend, but that would probably mean we’d’ve tried to cram in more stuff, and I had quite enough stuff to be going on with, thanks.

We helped with the easiest move ever on Saturday, shuttling KT’s stuff to her new townhouse, then took the dogs to the park. It was Freya’s first time, and it was comical how quickly she realized that flipping her Fierce switch in the company of strange dogs might not be the best plan.

She still has way too much energy, though — I woke up Sunday (too early, far too early) to a swathe of destruction that is becoming only too familiar. So far she’s eaten or destroyed: a bible, a PS3 controller, a tube of superglue, some slippers, a 100-year-old first edition, a book of dirty jokes, and an 80-year-old Don Juan. You fuck with my Byron at your peril, Little Miss.

Oh, and she peed on the library rug.

Cue several hours of cleaning and crankiness, that was only alleviated by the arrival of my birthday masseuse. Oh, gods, y’all. That massage was so very, very good. Loki does a mean shoulder pummel, but having someone work all the bad muscles at once was heavenly. I’m going to do a few weekly sessions at her health-institute-place, because I am just that broken.

I took my newly-relaxed self to the Low Men show, turning up at 5 with Loki, because that’s when all the bands were told to turn up. Why? We don’t know. It certainly wasn’t to load in & soundcheck, because there wasn’t enough room for one band’s equipment, much less that of all 9 bands on the bill.

Plus there was some confusion as to the Low Men’s set time. Their set kept getting moved around until settling at 10pm, and wonder of wonders, it actually happened on time — a little early, in fact, a feat I consider a minor miracle. Of course, this meant we were hanging out at the Rhythm Room for five hours, sitting through several bands I’d rather have missed. Dreadful, dreadful stuff.

My camera batteries having died, I actually watched the entire Low Men set, and I’m glad I did. They all left a pint of blood on that stage, I tell you what: it was one of their best shows ever, tight and fast and good, and you’re now bummed you missed it.

They’re playing this Friday at Crabby Don’s in Gilbert, and you should totally come see them. It’s going to be good. No clue when their set time is, but somewhere in the vicinity of 11, I should think.

And now to plow through the rest of the week. Yay!

life’s like that

So I had a pretty good birthday on Saturday: tons of good food (dips! empanadas! chicken-on-a-stick! cheeses! homemade ice cream!), nearly all my favorite people (Shawn & Peter came up from Tucson! I’ve missed them), plenty of Campari, etc. I’d done a lot of the food prep well in advance, so I was able to spend less time in the kitchen, yay.

There was much hilarity, too: Tom brought a Hulk pinata he’d got for his own birthday, and after Fenris was done barking at the strange guy hanging from the patio roof, we all took turns punching and whacking it until it finally broke apart. Good times!

Yesterday I woke up with a skull-splitting headache and upset tummy, and spent the morning ignoring the dishes in the sink and watching Top Gear reruns until Loki got out bed, when we switched to Band of Brothers. Also, I can highly recommend the curative powers of Mafia Mike’s toasted veggie sub.

And then this morning, my mom called to say her brother had died from the inoperable brain and esophageal tumors they’d found only a couple months ago. So obviously we’d known this was coming, but that knowledge didn’t make the news any easier to take. You always hope for a miracle, y’know?

So I’m throwing myself into work, hoping the day flies by so I can go home and hug my sweetie and the dogs and the kitties, and make them all promise never to die on me, and I’ll feel better for a little while, even though I’ll know they’re lying.

not the best holiday ever

I’ve been fighting with my body for a week, and it sucks.

I woke up Christmas Day feeling like I’d been steamrollered. I’ve never had body aches that bad ever in my life. Add in a nose and head clogged with epic amounts of snot and you’ve got a very non-Merry Christmas indeed.

Still managed to crank out two lasagnas (one meat with red sauce, one mushroom with white sauce) (washing my hands so much to avoid contamination that every single finger sprouted hangnails) before collapsing back on the couch. I forgot to roast the asparagus & green beans, making for an all-carbs, all the time sort of meal. Happily, my lack of sense of smell led to really garlicky garlic bread, which was much appreciated.

I managed to stay awake until all our friends had arrived, then passed the hell out. And every day since has been much the same: Get up, stumble about, fight to breath through my 0.024 functioning nostrils, do nothing much constructive, pass out, sleep really badly.

Here’s hoping I recover enough to enjoy New Year’s Eve.