Snarky has absolutely nothing profound upon which to pontificate. She has completely rotted out her brains on television lately (TV "watching" - which is more like TV listening the way Snarky does it - is the perfect companion to repetitive lace knitting) and can only bullet point the programs that have permanently wiped out such things as high school calculus, family members' birthdays, and her favorite cornbread recipe:
* 24: mmmmm Baueriffic. Not that the show is meant to be plausible in anyway, but the Snarks do like getting a good workout early in the week.
* ANTM: Snarky started watching this in earnest again last week and confessed, tail between legs, to her co-workers that she had... only to find out that they had been sneaking episodes too! It was the freakin' laser beams that pulled them all back in!
* Babylon 5: they are up to season four and are really enjoying seeing all the arcy goodness come to fruition. Snarky especially enjoys the cast commentary included on the tenth anniversary DVDs (Kosh's "eye" is referred to as "the sphincter" )
* Battlestar Galactica: the Snarks are still unable to watch their favorite show on its new night because they are only getting older and crankier and really do require a reasonable bedtime on Sunday nights. So no, they haven't seen this last episode yet. They have gotten the shock wave of angst from across the country from their BSG loving friends, though.
* Grey's Anatomy: this show is thisclose to going On Notice. Snarky would really, really like to know where all these Izzie/George 'shippers are. Because she wants to understand why the sudden luurve where there wasn't any at all, and why all this support for this magical luurve and JUST WHY?! It makes no freaking sense.
* March Madness: Snarky isn't really paying attention to this, but it is what's on at ChezSnark. So it gets a placeholder.
* Planet Earth: The Mister stumbled across this series on the Discovery channel last night. Amazing, beautiful, breathtaking footage. Even (possibly especially) the brutal moments - like the shark pursuing and ultimately devouring a seal in midair - are just absolutely captivating.
* Princess Tutu: Snarky did not get the whole shojo thing until this weekend. This is the perfect confluence of Snarky's dance background, her love of fairy tales and story telling, and all those stolen moments of pretty-boy anime oogling back when she visited her cousins in Hong Kong. Really very clever.
* Ugly Betty: awesome as always. This show has the palette of an Almodovar movie crossed with the subversive joy of Peewee's Playhouse plus the deftness and timing of a Gene Kelly dance number (and sometimes also the tight sailor pants to boot!). Or something. Just total eye candy and wonderfully snarky/bitchy/delicious throw-away lines.
Snarky is either planning on getting a life soon before her ass completely melds to the couch... or... well, there is Eunny's print o' the wave pattern she could be working on... (as soon as she finds cobweb weight yarn. )
Snarky got back on the needle felting wagon this weekend. She made a little desktop meditating turtle for her best friend, who is currently going through some tough times trying to find work in an over-saturated market. On to the cuteness!
Behold the Om Turtle!
(Fuzzy) Close-up
The shell is detachable. Note the cute little turtle butt! The lighter colored... thingie is a pocket. And what's in the pocket?
A wee little heart! Or a T-bone steak! Whichever will make her happier!
There is something very therapuetic about stabbing a blob of fluff repeatedly until it forms into something. Snarky couldn't completely zone out (that would result in punctured paws) but she could take her mind off of more serious matters this weekend and concentrate on just making something.
Snarky would like to submit for the record that she is wearing a skirt to work today.
This is a rare occasion and had to be noted:
-knee high black Ecco boots (semi-sexy, mostly sensible)
-pink and white striped knee high socks
-gray flannel pin-striped long skirt (purchased from a punk store in downtown Asheville) that causes Snarky to walk like Morticia Addams
-black stretch button down Banana Republic shirt
-light pink railroad/ribbon yarn (inkdarkmoon: think Knitting Fever's Dazzle or somesuch) neck... thingy. It's a really skinny scarf that looks more like a deconstructed cravat
-fuschia shrinky dink skulls earrings from Sweet Action Lab
-red lip stain under sparkly lip gloss
-Bearded Lady
There.
Tonight she and The Mister are going on a double date with their real estate agent and his wife. He's a pretty interesting guy, though the wife is a bit of a cipher still. They are going to see Inland Empire again because Mr. RealEstateAgent is a huge, huge David Lynch fan... which is very disconcerting for the Snarks. Lynch is a hard artist to pin down, but whatever anyone might think of when picturing a Lynch afficionado, Mr. REA is the exact opposite (or possibly dead on. It's really hard to tell.).
Just put on a happy face (dammit)!
Snarky has been in a three day Very Bad Mood that has been interrupted by bouts of happiness, contentment, and countless uncomfortably sweaty naps.
She's sure things will turn around soon, but just wanted everyone to know she's avoided updating her blog in order to minimize the bleed through of her psychic pollution.
On a slightly better note, she's really starting to fall in love with her (mangy, crispy, slug-infested) garden.
Carry on. (Snarky :heart:s Tim Gunn. Just so you know.)
Snarky mishears and misremembers lyrics with enough frequency to almost make this flaw an endearing character trait.
"By why would anyone want to play Twister in the sun? And what has that got to do with auto-erotica?" (Not that blisters in the sun make any more sense, really...)
So this morning her brain radio was going "chay-chay-chaaaaaange.... change of fools".
Snarky has been having some slightly disturbing dreams, no doubt because of the mild turmoil swirling around her lately.
A few nights ago it was another one of those school dreams - the ones where you either have missed half of the semester, or campus has reconfigured itself overnight, or the paper is due this afternoon and you don't have anything but the abstract completed. That dream wasn't so awful, but Snarky woke up in a state of near-panic for not having her graphs in order.
Last night Snarky dreamed she was on a school field trip (her old nerd school used to ferry students around in stretch vans that were like rolling perpetual-motion experiments fueled by that heady melange of teenaged angst, lust, irrational exuberance, and anxiety) that was held up in traffic because a large commercial airplane had exploded on the freeway.
There wasn't really any sense of panic - except for the fact that Snarky was going to be late to class again. Weird and kind of... misanthropic?
Snarky hit a bad funk-patch yesterday. The Mister has returned to work today, and she had trouble mustering up supportive enthusiasm for him. She has settled with hopeful, yet cautious stand-by-your-manism.
She has also been working long hours the last two weeks, which can't be helping with her internal rhythms.
Tonight she'll probably self-medicate with a hot, frothy bath and some deep dark chocolate. Sometimes the old stand-bys are the best.
Snarky is mostly blind.
Granted, she's still a few (scant) steps away from being legally blind, but her eyesight is bad enough that sans glasses or contacts, she's pretty much waving her arms Frankenstein style and doing the nervous Don't-Crush-My-Toes-Slow-Dance/Tippy-Toes-Sweep-Walk that extreme myopia choreographs.
Given all this, Snarky just wanted to take a quick moment to praise Chez Snark to it's blessed little rafters for having just enough square footage to allow for all the Snarks' crap to be spread out all over the place and still have enough room left over to maintain clear, blind people walkways.
It has gotten to the point that The Snarks can't remember a time when All This Stuff fit in to a less-than 800 square foot apartment. How'd they do it? Maaaagic!
Snarky also wants to bless Chez Snark's little anthropomorphized heart for having an added bonus accessory of an old charcoal grill. The Snarks enjoyed beef kabobs, roasted corn, and 'taters, followed by more-or-less successful dark chocolate s'mores for the Fourth. Unfortunately, they could not motivate their lazy behinds into making a nice pitcher of Sangria but there's plenty of time for that yet.
Chez Snark is evolving. Unfortunately, Snarky has been a bit slack about documenting the evolution. Here are some older pics to bring everyone up to speed:
They didn't have a working shower for almost a week while the subfloor was replaced (and then the looong wait for the Asian Tiger). A week!
The original color scheme for the bathroom: white sink, white toilet, white shower surround, black tub, pale pale blue walls. Bleah. Snarky was oddly fond of the vaguely gothic tub, but the chips and dents had to go.
With the door put back in place, this is the best "after" shot of the tub Snarky could manage. Whitey white white white! The Snarks employed the local Miracle Method franchise and highly recommend them to everyone. One big caveat: prepare to endure at least three days of intense chemical stench.
Another shot of the itty bitty bathroom.
This is supposed to be a memo holder, but has become the Snarks' precarious-yet-cheeky soap holder.
The Mister decided to sponge opaque copper paint over the glowing firelight in the exercise room. The experiment has since been dubbed a bit of a dud, but The Mister had a fabulous mani for about a week.
The Snarks' real estate agent gave them a housewarming gift. Instead of a basket 'o goodies they got a treasure chest!
Guess who snapped it up for her own nefarious purposes?
Also of note: the crazy fuschia/pink ante-room is s-l-o-w-l-y evolving into a half eggplant purple, half light spring green room. The spring green is mostly done (and they even managed to hang artwork after Snarky hulked out and smashed all of the glass in the frame) but the purple will require an astonishing third coat to reach their preferred level of opacity. After that, (and a little more purple-ing of the hallway on the first floor) the Snarks are Taking a Break with the Painting, Already.
The Mister has a bit of a hair fetish to complement his foot/naughty secretary thing. And Snarky really never knew about the extent of it until recently.
When he first met Snarky, she had a slightly angled bob that just curled beneath her chin. She had been maintaining the relatively chic 'do after a free makeover going in to her third year in college. Up until then she had rather a rather laissez faire approach to her hair except for the white streak (a la Rogue of X-Men fame or Pepe le Pieu's paramour, take your pick) she tried to maintain until she burned a bald patch on the side of her head.
She lapsed back into just growing it all out while in Europe for a semester, ending with a dramatic chop off "mas corta, por favor" in a "Super Tall" in Spain. (Who knew Super Cuts had gone international?)
Leading up to their wedding, Snarky finally returned to letting it all grow out in order to fulfill some deep-seated conviction that All Brides Must Have an Up 'Do. Her hair continued to grow until 2002 when, after a successful run doing impressions of "The Ring"'s Samara (and scaring the bejeezus out of all her co-workers), Snarky allowed her hairdresser to give her bangs.
This was the beginning of the end.
The bangs became Bettie Page bangs one hectic morning after Snarky's shaky attempts to even out the regrowth.
After that, it was only a matter of time before she succumbed to the inevitable and chopped it all off for charity.
Since that fateful November day (she kept the long hair one more Halloween in order to channel Cleopatra) Snarky has more or less kept the 'do at either page-boyish or rather Pat Benatarian levels.
The Snarks take their mini-golfing very seriously.
Growing out the highlights, and no, Snarky is not Flamenco-ing. She's modeling a knitting thingamabobber (Glampyre's One Skein Wonder, if you're curious)
A better look at The Benatar in all her glory.
After the unfortunate Hitler Bangs incident, Snarky finally agreed to let it all grow out again.
Lest we ever forget... re-posting proof of the Hitler Bangs.
This old photo most closely approximates the currently sideswept bangs (if you can make them out on her teeny tiny head). Is it just Snarky, or does it look like she's about to be plucked off the Earth by an Ent?
And for The Mister, there was much rejoicing. For while he has never once complained in all the years of Snarky's follicle fancies, he had been harboring a secret hope that she would return to the p0rn hair of yore. Every time she now wears her hair in the funky little pigtails - all she can currently manage - he gets a certain speculative gleam in his eye and breaks out into a boyish grin of delight.
It is this anticipation of his that is helping Snarky through some of the most difficult growing out phases she has ever encountered (and she's counting the skunky bald patch!). Right now she is currently at "vaguely choppy kinda-sorta rock mulletini-y" and would really just like to drop all the -y, -ie, -ishness and have a damn definitive 'do, already!
The things we do for love!
Edited to add: If she can find old pics of the old long hair, Snarky'll post 'em. She's also got a picture to be downloaded off the camera of the current oh-so-age-appropriate pigtails yet to post.
I choo choo choose you!
Snarky has been up to her eyeballs in work. Lots of time-sucking, mind-melting office monkey duties that leave her with little time to do things like post coherent blog entries and string more than three related concepts into a happily trundling train of thought.
So here are the boxcars that are rattling around at the moment:
* The Mister has decided on a Major Career Change.
He made an attempt to return to his old soul-sucking, life-draining, anxiety-attack-making job for two days last week and has not been back since. Snarky is absolutely OK with this (beyond OK, more like -leading and just about to start a stadium-wide wave) and has already seen how much better he has been for having turned this corner on his own.
The Snarks are getting The Mister signed up for massage therapy school this afternoon. To be honest, Snarky does not consider The Mister the most adept masseuse. But he is an excellent customer service guy and a very quick study. His research into successful careers for his Myers-Briggs personality type (INFP) all point to some sort of one-on-one therapy (be it psychological or body work-related) and so... this is the direction they will be taking.
They attended an orientation at one of the local LMT institutions and got to take a class (with actual partial nudity and the touching of bodies!) and even with the clinical setting, circulating teacher, and random other nekkid and touchy people in the room... it was a really positive, instructive, and decision-making experience.
She hasn't seen such a shine in The Mister's eye since they first started casting their gazes Westward, wondering if they could make a life in the Pacific Northwest.
* Snarky has started to work out, again. This time she's focusing more on her (languishing) yoga practice. Today she feels five miles long, as if her arms could encompass whole attitudes of thought rather than just her gradually de-cluttering desk.
* Oh, and Snarky started knitting again. She is sort of doing a tangential KAL with the BPAL knitters (with whom she has regrettably lost track) and has been cranking on the Rona Lace Shawl from Knitpicks (using the suggested KP Alpaca Cloud in a Midnight, which is maybe not the best color choice given her current extremely poor lighting conditions at home). There have been numerous errata already in just the first 50 rows. This is apparently the week for Snarky to be OK with normally crazy-making things, though, because she is absolutely OK with this. She isn't even putting in any lifelines as she galumphs along on this shawl.
* Textured Vegetable Protein is amazing stuff. The Snarks will never be vegetarians, but the consumption of meat has gone way, way down on their dietary habits -- enough so that they will probably make it a luxury item (which will allow them to focus more on local, organic, "humane" (or at least as humane as possible while still being, you know, meat) options).
There were probably more boxcars to add to this train, but lunch is calling (The Mister's Magical Sweet Potato Quesadillas). Snarky hopes all of your trains are also enjoying the downhill side of this week.
(Great, now Snarky is craving graham crackers and marshmellows and melty dark chocolate.)
Very quickly, as Snarky's back is starting to protest after a weekend of bent-over-the-coffee-table-exact-o-knifing, she's about 80% finished with the DeathRockFamily freezer paper stenciled t-shirts!
Step One: select toddler-appropriate imagery and use as template for freezer paper stencil.
Step Two: iron stencil onto targeted surface (in this case, American Apparel's toddler-sized raglan t-shirt) using another piece of freezer paper as back on other side of surface to add stability and prevent bleed-through.
Step Three: develop big head from success of first project, proceed to go insane and decide to stencil text onto next t-shirt. Because you are also slightly masochistic.
Step Four: covet your own work. (Note: the bear trap is just one application of black ink, but the toaster shirt has three coats because Snarky didn't have light colored paint intended for dark surfaces.)
Step Five: go even more bat-crap-crazy and decide to shoot for the moon on your next design. Halfway through, shake fist (while carefully aiming exact-o knife away from face) and ask WHYYYYYY?!?!?!
Step Six: Just walk away from the stencil. Take a breather. Come back tomorrow.
Snarky will post finished DeathRockMama shirt picks tomorrow (hopefully).
The living room, formerly a sort of cranberry red - which was lovely when the living room was a cool grey but clashes badly with the candy apple green, is currently a decidedly horrid first-coat shade of yellow-orange papaya.
It's a fun shade. Festive, even, but just not what should go next to such a bright, vibrant, glowing green. Just... no.
So The Mister just got off the phone with Snarky to propose... black.
His reasons:
1) the Snarks already have a gallon matte black (not because they are goths, but because they wanted to use it as the base coat for the gumball red going up down in the basement... because they are goths)
2) the ultimate wall treatment for the living room will be nothing more than a framing device for all the state plates (The Mister's new Goodwill scavanger hunt obsession) large art posters (Mucha and other Arts & Crafts/pre-Raphaelite/etc. type work) and other various arty things. The walls will be crowded with stuff, and any color will be even less than background in the end.
3) the tenative theme for the living/dining room is "chinoiserie", with the brilliant green accented by laquered blacks, clear reds, and crisp whites. Using black in the dining room would in the end clash much less than the Bango-Mango-Madness currently erupting along two-thirds of the dining room (and ringing the windows and trim)
4) resale, schmesale.
So... Snarky's convinced. Worst case scenario: they end up using a gallon of Kilz to remove all proof of their folly. Best case: they continue to make this house truly and uniquely ChezSnark.
Still, yikes!
Ah, Fall! What an evocative name for the season. Snarky thinks of dying trees and the inevitability of gravity, time, entropy, age. Such a beautiful time of the year. The French probably have a perfect word to describe this rather gothic appreciation of the last gasp of life.
Also the Cantonese. Snarky has been learning some rather ribald Chinese sayings from her parents used to describe the universal truths of life. Darned if she can remember any of them right now, though.
The Snarks are Big Fans of this time of year. This month they will be celebrating their sixth (!) anniversary, in fact. They got married in an autumnal blaze of glory. Fall of ought-ought turned out to be one of the best years for color in recent history for the Western North Carolina mountains.
And what else besides the crisp charge in the air heralds the arrival of this most beloved time of year? Why, produce, of course!
Honeycrisp apples at the Beaverton Farmer's Market
Brussel Tree! Sometimes the Snarks forget that these don't actually grow in little mesh plastic bags.
The Snarks are surrounded by artichoke farms (well, OK, just the one outside of Tillamook) but this was the first time since moving Out West that they partook. Cha cha cha!
Out with the pesto pizza, in with the roasted portabella pizza!
Perfect fall days start with a trip to Kruger's Farm Market on Sauvie Island.
The Snarks are preparing for an anniversary weekend in a treehouse, in which they will be working dilligently to build up their winter coats. The Mister is already researching recipes for their time in the woods. (A sure sign that the Snarks were meant for eachother if there ever was one.) There will be roasted root vegetables and cobblers and at some point a Butterfinger pie (sixth anniversary = gifts of candy or iron, and Snarky hasn't been near a welding torch in almost a decade). The nose might be directly linked up to the deepest parts of memory in the brain, but Snarky's heart is hard-wired to her stomach.
The Snarks have been unbelievably sick these past few days. Snarky began showing signs of not-quite-rightedness during the Asheville leg of their North Carolina circuit of Ought Six and has since gone through losing her voice, running a mild fever, eye-watering sinus pressure, and persistent, hacking, non-productive coughs (the worst kind!).
The Mister's symptoms appear to be on almost exactly a 48 hour delay from Snarky's.
The biggest problem, besides having slept for almost three days straight (what New Year's celebrations?), has been the phelgm induced anosmia. Even if the Snarks were to get hungry (which is a rarity given their complete lack of activity as well as their sneaking suspicion that snot has been draining directly into their stomachs this whole time, which, yeah, ) they can't smell anything well enough to taste it.
This is a great and terrible curse for foodies, which is just a less sexually suggestive name for what the Snarks really are, which are hardcore, dyed in the wool sensualists. (Snarky doesn't really know what "dyed in the wool" sensualists are like, but she is enjoying the mental image of drifts of alpaca fleece being soaked in a vat of deeply crimson dye)
What did the Snarks eat this weekend? Two frozen pizzas. With nothing added to them. It just seemed like a waste to add the usual tangy/zesty/cheesy additional toppings they usually do with their "cheat, heat, and eat" meals. Why bother? It was all just so much texture in their mouths, and nothing more.
So sad!
Which reminded Snarky about the last years of Michael Hutchense's life. He was never a role model for Snarky, but she felt a certain affinity with his public image. He was probably the prettiest man at the time to give her funny feelings in her tummy. When she found out about his head-trauma induced anosmia, she couldn't imagine the anguish he must have felt.
Side note: the step-sister-in-law's new boyfriend earned points with Snarky by going into a rather detailed discussion of how he possesses a very particular kind of synasthesia - he smells in colors. She left him an imp of Tombstone to see if it came up as a rusty cream with evergreen edging.
Anyways. The DarkityFam is still scheduled to begin showing up starting tomorrow night. Snarky thinks she'll be almost human enough to host, though the house is an utter and complete shambles (which will give DarkityMa something to keep herself occupied, if nothing else). The Mister will probably be pretty wrecked, but they will manage. Interesting start to the new year, indeed.
Since Snarky is an image posting fool, this entry is continued from Part One below...
On to the brightness:
This was supposed to be the Auburgine Anteroom to the Brown Boudoir. The second coat is darker, and the Snarks are planning a third. The Mister is already grumbling about washing over this with either black or dark blue to tone down the pink. PINK!
Behold the pukey green before of the exercise room. This color has been dubbed "shittay" by a close family friend, and the Snarks are not arguing with that. Shittay indeed.
The solution? A little somethin' somethin' called "Glowing Firelight". "Glowing"? Try "Glowering"! Darkity likes!
After one coat. There might be as many as three in this room too. Also eventually a metallic wash over the whole shebang. Because they can.
A shot of the test wall in the living room for the Granny Smith Apple Green. It is a bit brighter than in this shot. Also, yes, the red has GOT to go. This is not Christmasville.
Are your eyes now pulsing and watery? The Snarks are enjoying their crash course in color theory. They did not have the opportunity to paint prior to moving in to their last house. While the coming weeks promise to be a hectic scramble to the finish for so many things (the amazingly intricate domino array of contractors needed to just Take a Bath, not to mention the whole "move all the crap in the apartment into the house" manoeuver) (A procedure so complicated it needed extra vowels!) The Snarks are truly enjoying the feeling of putting their (technicolor, barf-up-a-rainbow) stamp on this little house.
Last night they even schlepped a few things over to make their first dinner in the house.
Nevermind the fact that they don't have a fridge yet. Brushetta!
Snarky would like to leave you with something a little more restful for the eyes. This is what greets them from the kitchen sink when they finally manage to wrestle the battered side door open:
Just breathe...
(Thank Beth for Faustus!)
Snarky in Winter
If she would just stop burning and cutting them and tried to moisturize every once in a while, Snarky would have a fairly pretty set of hands. Given care, they can be delicately expressive with long fingers and long, tapering nail beds. She inherited them from her father's side of the family. Her mother has always grumbled about her own "farmer's hands", but as the rest of her is delicate and expressive (she was a traditional Chinese dancer in college), her hands come across as such too.
Snarky does not treat her hands well at all, though. They want to be long-nailed and idle... the hands of some pampered concubine. But she treats them like meat. On the rare occasion that she gets them "done", they become undone within a week's time. Nail polish barely lasts two days (even the good stuff). Her cuticles would break any aesthetician from sheer mental trauma.
Currently Snarky is struggling with her suddenly long nails. They get caught in her keyboard (upon which her typing sounds like a puppy scrabbling across a hardwood floor). They mess up her ability to dial her cell phone. She has poked herself in the eye countless times. The Mister has been inadvertently scratched in very unsexy ways.
So far, only the cats seem to enjoy these new accessories.
Along with her enlongenating nails, Snarky is trying to re-learn how to handle longer hair. She is also doing what she playfully calls "Winterizing" - a sort of seasonal shortening of her personal grooming habits which allows her to sleep in a bit more, but which also makes winter The Mister's least favorite time of year. Apparently it's OK for him to have hairy legs year 'round, but she must remain pre-pubescent (at least in that one aspect.) She will make an exception for Valentine's Day, though, which brings much rejoicing to ChezSnark.
Snarky really has a problem with the whole body hair issue, actually. She finds it yucky and gross in all practicality (tank tops, swim suits, shorts) but in principle wishes she could just let it all go. So this "Winterizing" thing is sort of her annual foray into protesting the unrealistic expectations set by the beauty industry and society in general. (She's also normally a waxer, not a shaver, so this is a bit of a reprieve from all the ouchiness.)
Strange how laziness promotes old stereotypes (longer head hair and finger nails) whilst stomping like a giant hairy Sasquatch on others.
The Snarks are what you could call DINKs (Double Income, No Kids - Snarky just learned of this acronym last week because she is culturally out of it). They aren't wealthy, nor are they well paid, but they are comfortable and able to indulge in small luxuries like restaurant dining when they want and the occasional pair of new (but sensible!) shoes.
They know they are lucky to have managed their previous investments well enough to be in their current house (which they love just a little more each day even with all the blemishes that every old house has). Though she hasn't been completely willy-nilly about their post-real estate orgy, Snarky has been feeling like the other shoe must drop from their recent "fixin'/preppin' the house for total habitation" purchases.
And that shoe got dropped yesterday over the phone with The Mister. He wants to give notice at his current job. He plans to have his last day be the Friday before the Labor Day weekend. He won't start looking for another job until about a month before his last day.
Snarky knows the contributing factors to this major decision are not flippant ones, but she can't help but feel a bit of panic, a bit like the rug was pulled out from underneath her feet.
He hasn't been happy in that job almost from the beginning. He has been dealing with depression and poor health exacerbated by the high and constant stress. At one point last night he turned to her and said "And if a year from now, if we are both in jobs we really love but that don't pay as much, is it that much of a loss if we can't keep this house?"
And Snarky was torn. She wants him to find his place in the world, she does. She would even like to find out exactly what she should be when she grows up. But this house... this house is already so special to her. She'd like to have her cake and eat it too.
Snarky has been taking pictures like a madwoman, but instead of downloading and formatting, her evenings have been taken up with weeding and painting. She hopes to give you updates soon on the continuing evolution of ChezSnark. There's been hardwood floor refinishing, tub resurfacing, Asian Tigering, and even more painting of retina-searing hues.
She just hopes she won't be covering all of this up with eggshell in a year's time.
Packaging reads: Disco, optional
So, after a brief brush with the concept of single-income-dom a few months ago (that was circumvented with a lateral career move), it looks like The Mister has finally reached the end of his rope with his current employer. He's meeting with his supervisor sometime today to announce his intention of resigning from his position effective the end of this month.
Snarky will surely panic later, but currently she is feeling oddly fine about things. It's not the end of the world... just the end of the world as she knows it. And when she looks around, she sees all sorts of things that can be trimmed away to make their impending financial strain less panic-inducing.
Snarky grew up not quite poor, but very, very frugally. She can re-create some of the methods her parents employed to ensure that the important things remain covered.
Normally, and this was proven in very recent history with The Mister's last "I've had it!" moment, Snarky does not handle the threat to her creature comforts well. But this morning when The Mister reached over to take her hand, it was shaking violently enough that she thought he was rapidly squeezing her hand for some unknown reason. She gave him one of his emergency panic attack pills, cooked him a quick breakfast, and went out into the rain. Now she's wondering if she should have stayed behind to provide moral support while he prepared for this life-changing day.
In slightly better-perhaps news, she pointed The Mister to the "Be an Actuary" site that antimony suggested a while back, and he was very intrigued. Turns out the actuarial field was one of his top picks based on some sort of career choice evaluation he did a while ago.
In the meantime, Snarky knows The Mister well enough that he will land on his feet. It will be rough going, but they will get there.
At the risk of incurring the Wrath of the Gods, Snarky wants y'all to have a peek:
The Possibly Maybe Future Chez Snark
She's already scheming where the yarn, BPAL, and LUSH stashes will go. She's going to have her own bathroom, finally! No more comingling of her "lotions and potions" (The Mister's term) with his manly toilette.
Snarky hastens to add that she decided to wear Clio today. This is another surprise imp in her ammo case that is sorta-kinda spring like (in a deep dark pathouli-ish sort of way). Also, the lavendar is helping her to remain a little more calm and clear-headed given the circumstances.
Snarky has Stevie Nicks by way of Lucy Lawless stuck in her head now... though sometimes the voice switches over to that Smashing Pumpkins guy.
Which is really, really annoying. She really missed the Smashing Pumpkins boat mostly because of Corgan. Sure his voice (grating, nasal, tremulous) was the angry yawp of her "generation", but Snarky hasn't been all that keen about her generation either.
The Snarks are going into this short work week completely unprepared for Turkey Day. They have a vague idea of a menu, but since the only attendants to The Feast will be themselves, they haven't really put a great deal of pressure on the timeliness of said meal.
They are still hosting family, though. The difference is that that particular meal is happening tonight (!!) and Snarky came up with the menu for tonight's meal while trying to get to sleep last night. DarkityMa (she of the "start cooking three days in advance" method) would be ashamed.
So tonight Snarky's father's older sister's middle son and his wife (ie her cousins) will be fed gingered catfish and mysteriously cooked spring pea tips & tendrils. "Mysteriously" because Snarky has only cooked these kinds of greens twice (boiled the first time, stir fried the second) with varying results. Tonight she'll probably par-boil then finish off in the wok after she's done with the catfish. The Snarks love to experiment on their guests. (insert hand rubbing and low, evil laugh here)
Shoot. Now Snarky's hungry.
PS More proof positive that The Mister is a perfect match for Snarky: she called to touch base over her lunch break about tonight, and he's gone and added about three more dishes to include with the meal (appetizer, additional side, and dessert).
(After Snarky was schooled, she has always preferred the Queen song containing that famously ripped of Vanilla Ice lyric, though the sting of plagerism has faded over time to be replaced with a kind of dorky nostalgia too.)
The Mister collapsed at work yesterday. By the time the ambulance got there, he was awake, aware, and talking. He walked to the ambulance on his own steam. The ER doc couldn't positively pinpoint the cause, though stress and anxiety are likely candidates.
After a couple hours of observation (and another one waiting impatiently to be discharged) Snarky was able to take him home. They had cheesy Mexican food and wandered around Trader Joe's and bought up supplies for a near-future (possibly before the Fourth, as the Snarks are an impatient bunch) cookout on their newly discovered charcoal grill.
The Mister will take off of work today, but is already antsy about not keeping up with his landslide of work. Snarky tried (half-heartedly) to obtain something for him to work on when she stopped by his office yesterday to pick up the car.
His boss, hopefully finally Seeing the Light, refused to let her take anything, and strongly urged The Mister to stay at home and rest through the Fourth.
Snarky knows that this grand statement is partly spurned by genuine concern, but she also knows that The Mister will just get all the more agitated because now his boss's unable-to-delegate and/or assign-work-realistically "management style" will push all the pressure onto the other already loaded-down PMs in the office. Which gives him stress.
And Snarky is trying ever so hard to minimize the stress. Like some kind of frightened, over-protective mother hen. The Mister is a grown man, but Snarky can't help but remember seeing him with wires and tubes and bustling be-scrubbed attendants.
No matter how many episodes of "House" or "Gray's Anatomy" she'll see... nothing will inure her to that sight. Ever.
The Mister's maternal grandmother passed away yesterday. She had been slowly leaving this world for the past two years, but this weekend was her final exit. By all accounts she most likely died in her sleep after they unhooked her from life support.
The Mister had already said good bye to her long before all this. The Snarks went to see her when they visited Back East last fall, but she was hardly the woman they knew even from just six months before their last visit.
They already remember her from a more vibrant time. They are going back not so much to conjure up those memories, but to provide support to the MIL and The Mister's uncle.
They are also going to see their third niece for the first time.
The Snarks knew this was an inevitability (the MIL has been preparing them for this for the last five years) but still can't help but feel a little taken by surprise. This also completely negates any plans they might have had to visit around Christmastime as they have already booked up the rest of their time off with the DarkityFam in mid-September (the vacation AKA Hurricanes Ahoy! 2006).
Snarky will most likely be incommunicado from tomorrow through Sunday when she returns. They will have two days to prepare the house for the week-long visit of her parents starting next Wednesday.
And before they go, Snarky has a second interview at one of her Dream Companies tomorrow. Plenty of things to keep them from getting morbid/morose.
Much to her (and her checkbook's) chagrin, Snarky has developed a taste for LE's.
In keeping with her sporadic - if not downright sparse-to-non-existant - BPAL purchasing/swapping habits, she's probably a couple-three updates behind everyone else in the taste testing. Case and point? Her current go-to scent is Bearded Lady. Her first great love was French Creole. Luckily her day-to-day scent is the comfortably GC Tombstone (albeit combined with a breath of single note sweet clove thanks to minilux).
The Mister insists that all of her BPAL at the end of the day smells like band-aids, so this is purely an exercise in selfish hedonism for her. (Though he does respond positively to just-applied Bearded Lady. For a man indifferent to most BPAL, he sure does have rarified taste!)
Snarky's new job (which, IEEEE! ) comes with many benefits. She keeps herself awake at night just imagining how it will feel to actually look forward to work - something she hasn't honestly done in years. But the job comes with a substantial pay cut. This is admittedly made up for by the inherent awesomeness of her new company and the possibilities that will be open to her in this new field of work, but at face value less moolah is less moolah.
And with less moolah (and the Snarks' joint checking account) Snarky is feeling the pinch on her already fairly anemic impulse buying budget.
The emergency flight Back East, her parents' impending arrival (tomorrow night!!) and the upcoming five-day cruise have and will also drain their resources a bit.
But Snarky has perspective: they are not hungry. They are not drowning in debt. She has plenty of clothes and yarn and, to be honest, BPAL to last quite a while. She could make a large (for her) order and not break the bank.
Still... she wants to celebrate her new direction. So she's going to make a list. It isn't a wishlist so much as a... well, it's just a list. Sometimes Snarky just has to indulge her Cappy tendencies and organize her pipe dreams.
slipped through the fingers
-Hungry Ghost Moon
-Chrysanthemum Moon
constant craving
-Faustus
goin' a-courtin'
-Mme. Moriarty
-Organ Grinder
-Pumpkin Queen
-Count Dracula
-Wilhelmina Murray, maybe (Snarky is, after some fashion, named after this character, afterall - but currants + Snarky = weird fruitiness)
-Dr. John Seward
Ugh. Snarky is really not trying to make this some whiny-pantsed post. She is thrilled to pieces that the Lab continues to mesmerize and delight (exponentially it seems lately). So she'll settle for being happy for everyone who is taking part (and maybe she'll sneak in a wee ickle order of her own under The Mister's nose... so to speak.)
We can do it! After I finish this yummy sammich....
There is this thing that's like touching except you don't touch
Back in the day it just went without saying at all
All the world's history gradually dying of shock
There is thing that's like talking except you don't talk
You sing
You sing
Sing for the bartender sing for the janitor sing
Sing for the cameras sing for the animals sing
Sing for the children shooting the children sing
Sing for the teachers who told you that you couldn't sing
Just sing
There is thing keeping everyone's lungs and lips locked
It is called fear and it's seeing a great renaissance
After the show you can not sing wherever you want
But for now let's just pretend we're all gonna get bombed
So sing
Sing cause its obvious sing for the astronauts sing
Sing for the president sing for the terrorists sing
Sing for the soccer team sing for the janjaweed sing
Sing for the kid with the phone who refuses to sing
Just sing
Life is no cabaret
We don't care what you say
We're inviting you anyway
You mother[frakkers] you'll sing someday...
You mother[frakkers] you'll sing someday...
You mother[frakkers] you'll sing someday...
--"Sing" by the Dresden Dolls
Snarky had a bad day yesterday. The Mister did manage to go in to work for half the day, but the first half was spent in moments of panic and anxiety. He says a switch has gone off inside his head that has turned his soon-to-be-former work place into a place of near-terror for him. He apologizes to Snarky for being broken, and it's breaking her heart to see him like this.
But she's beginning to feel her fists harden into tiny little knots of grim determination. Her brow is furrowed and she's rolling up her sleeves figuratively (because it is friggin' COLD over here, making rolling up her literal sleeves a non-option) in preparation for the Work Ahead.
The Mister is broken, but he is healing. Snarky will do her best to support and ass-kick as needed. She's also keeping an eye on her own stress-levels to make sure they complement - rather than exacerbate - his.
Last night she worked on his special shirt. He requested a "got garlic?" shirt which has proven to be a bit more problematic than the other ones. If things turn out well (which they will... eventually) Snarky will post pics. She still owes finished bleeding heart and unicorn t-shirt pics too!
Tonight, Snarky is staying late because her work is having another employees-only open studio session (with potluck panini! ). She's very excited about this, though she has absolutely no idea what she's going to make. Wish her luck!
Over time, Snarky has learned to appreciate the value of Name Brand Things - not always (she still just can't get the whole Louis Vuitton thing) but more often than not. When she does purchase things these days, they feel more like investments. (Even if said investments are happening at the Goodwill.)
She would rather have the one good pair of Danskos rather than a closet full of Payless ripoffs.
It came as a bit of a shock to her a few years ago to discover that the straight legged jeans from Eddie Bauer were the best fit for her body (which she lovingly refers to as "the curvy rectangle": slight dip at the waist in a long torso over short, muscular thighs and calves).
Snarky always thought of Eddie Bauer as The Gap for soccer moms. In other words: better than Wal-Mart, but not North Face/Patagonia/whatever the heck posh soccer moms wear.
What came as an even bigger shock is that a sweater she purchased from the EB factory outlet last year (deep red boxy cabled cardigan) provoked a rather interesting response from The Mister. He made a point several times to comment that he really liked the sweater, and liked Snarky wearing it. Sometimes the commentary came in tactile form.
Snarky could not pinpoint exactly what it was about this shapeless sweater that was pushing all the right buttons for The Mister, but she is now determined to figure it out.
Oops. Wrong show.
Recall the comic/histrionic tableaux competing families assumed at the beginning of that old gameshow mainstay, The Family Feud. If the DarkityFam were to pose thusly, Snarky believes she and her mother would be in the shouldn't-be-funny-but-really-is Mexican standoff mutual strangle-hold position.
Of course Snarky loves DarkityMa. She is cute (her hair grew back with a vengance and is curly of all things!) and cuddly and has a wicked sense of humor. She also can't stay still without cleaning and can hold on to grudges for decades. After some of the stories her parents have told the Snarks this past weekend about DarkityPauPau (DarkityGrandma) Snarky understands where the grudge thing comes from (and is starting to understand her own inability to just. Let. It. Go.)
Still, DarkityMa made Snarky cry. Snarky is considerably quick to tears (just watch her during holiday commercials), but these were bitter, angry, angsty, uncontrollable tears that Snarky hasn't cried since probably shortly after the onset of puberty. How does she do it?
Tonight is the Snarks' last night with the DarkityFam. Right now DarkityMa and Pa are meeting with the Snarks' realtor to discuss the local housing market, and to decide whether they want to move here sooner or later. On the balance Snarky would love for her parents to move closer. But there is the niggling, teenaged part of her that chafes a little at the idea -- it is all for entirely selfish reasons. Both of them are shockingly older than Snarky remembers them, and she wants to be able to take care of them without spending a day flying down to get to them.
Another enlightening revelation from this weekend is the fact that even Snarky's parents feel a sort of disconnect with the Chinese-American communities out there. They all have a healthy appreciation for the food and culture, but don't really care so much for the people... if that makes any sense at all. Snarky has found many of her "racial" contemporaries to be rather materialistic and overly driven to max out the monetary measuring stick. The Darkity'Rents moving to Portland would appease the rest of DarkityMa's clan in the Bay Area enough (hey, they're in the same time zone at least!) and still give them enough cushion from all the daily drama. Not to mention the $$$housing costs$$$.
Along with all these eye-opening conversations have been wonderful retellings of family lore. Snarky's mother and father both come from families that were greatly affected by the Japanese occupation as well as the Cultural Revolution. Both families were at some point split up during their exodus to Hong Kong, and the struggles and horrors they faced have left scars that decorate their combined pasts just as prominently as weddings, births, graduations, and other accomplishments.
Most days Snarky lives her life in the now without any sense of her history or the larger picture. Perhaps it would be good to have the touchstones of her parents closer by so that she can keep all of those lives and stories in mind. She just needs to get thicker skin first.
