Oh, the craftiness of me

Yesterday I once again went to Shipwreck Beads. Click on the link and scroll down a bit for much better pictures than I originally posted--gives you an idea of the scale and variety of the place. It's mind-blowing.

My sister and I had already picked up some beads, but not some other essentials like, say, an actual tool of any kind. Or the right sort of wire--for earrings, the easiest method is to start with a "head pin," which is a short section of wire with a knob or loop on one end to anchor the beads. You string on your beads, loop the other end (trimming off excess if needed) around a hook or fastener of some sort, and voila, earrings! At least, in theory. In practice, it takes...well, practice. My first set turned out nicely from a color perspective, but don't look too closely at the bent parts....



I also made a pair of very simple green fiber optic bead earrings, and a pair of earrings using those crazy rubber beads I mentioned last week. The final and most ambitious project of the day was to use the dangly-earring frames my sister had picked up, thinking they'd at least be an interesting experiment, just to see if we could do it. I think they turned out rather well!



The wire loops aren't altogether even, and some of the wood beads are more apt than others to half eat the beads next to them, making it tricky to keep them all together. They're actually tidier in person, since I had these laid out on a flat surface rather than hanging, and it was tough to get all the bits and pieces to lay out nicely.

They only swing at the top. There are additional pliers you can get to do chain work, and though that's probably more complicated than I want to deal with right now, I could see working up to that. I like dangly earrings....

In other news, my sister fairly suddenly decided to abandon the Washington relocation idea--she had a friend coming through town, and hitched a ride. So...there's that. I now suddenly have an office / writing space I need to set up, and I guess need to get my mind back to where I was and all the things I planned to do before she arrived with equal suddenness. I think my plan is to keep the computer where it is in my room, and leave that new room pretty much an analog only sort of space, with no distractions except maybe a music source. It'll be a nice writing space--it's nice and bright and has a view out the window. I need more plants, I think. And to set up my far too many pen cups and notepads and Circa stuff and index card boxes and...all the other stuff that has spent the last month or so crammed into drawers and boxes. Oh, to write again....

Clicky!

So...how lame is it to do a sort of review of the new keyboard if the main reason for doing such a review is to have an excuse to use the thing? I really like this thing. The one downside, in a way, is that the end text is in no way distinguishable from any other typed text. It's like typing on a typewriter (well...not quite the same feel, but as pleasurable), but without any way of proving that fact. I'm enjoying wonderful solid and certain clickiness, but you wouldn't know it to look at this post. It's funny...once upon a time, typewritten text was seen as incredibly impersonal and cold. Now...well, it's still not the same as handwriting, but it isn't something that can be reproduced without the human element. There is still the unseen human being behind the created text--you know each and every character was typed by a person.

But I digress. Except that my point, I guess, is that no matter how dandy the keyboard, the text is identical. It's good and bad, that.

There didn't seem to be much point in taking a picture. I mean...it's a keyboard. It looks exactly like the image in the post below: a sort of charcoal black with grey keys, very slightly silvery in the right light. I think it's pretty attractive, but it isn't a work of art or anything. It just feels...very nice.

Another downside: I really miss it when I'm off at work. The last few evenings I've spent quite a bit of time using it, and the first few minutes back with my work keyboard in the morning are a depressing experience. If I was rich (and less worried about aggravating co-workers), I'd be tempted to get a second for work. Or (if, again, I wasn't so worried about annoying co-workers with emphatic typing), I could drag it back and forth. At least until my back went out. It's not exactly light weight. It could double as the infamous blunt instrument. Got a good heft to it.

I didn't go with the smaller space-saver model, though I don't think there's any reason not to. From what I understand, the main difference isn't in the layout of the actual keyboard, though there may be a bit more space between the alphanumeric keys and the function keys on the Customizer. The main difference is just that the space-saver just has a smaller frame to it, without the big honkin' border. But the big honkin' border makes this look like my old favorite keyboards, so I rather like it, even if it does take up more desk real estate. It does mean that the mouse ends up a little farther out to the side. And it adds heft. Have I mentioned this thing is pretty hefty? It does *not* slide around much on the desk. It can't.

Aaaaand I just spent a bunch of time surfing around YouTube checking out videos of clicky keyboards. Obviously, I need to get a life.

Cave in

1. Cave in #1
Well, after resisting various posts on the subject for a bit over a year, I've finally given into temptation and ordered a clicky keyboard from Unicomp.



It should be here Tuesday. I'm trying to resist the urge to check UPS for status updates every five minutes. I'll report fully after a few days of using the thing.

2. Cave-in #2
I still have about a chapter left to go on my '09 NaNo, but I'm stalling on actually writing by working on the digitization instead. Actually, it's not really stalling--I need this time to get back into the story, since I abandoned the poor thing for so long. I started out typing things up on the Neo, but in the last week, I started doing OCR instead. The mini version of OmniPage that comes with the inexpensive Canon scanners is actually really good--at least for fairly dark type and certain typefaces. It really likes the SG-1. As I'm getting into the later pages, when I was debating whether or not to change the ribbon, it's a little more challenging. Still a lot faster than retyping, and with all the going over the text I have to do, still a good review and opportunity to do a first-pass edit. I'll be printing it up to really hack away at after this part is done.

3. Other update-just-to-update type jabbering: After years of hearing their ads and thinking, "hey, betcha that'd be a cool place to visit," I finally went to Shipwreck Beads with my sister yesterday. I *love* beaded earrings, but have never gotten into making them. She does a bit. I'm gonna have to learn.



That place is overwhelming. Good golly. Imagine a grocery store sized place of nothing but beads and associated crafty things, in all sorts of colors and shapes and sizes and textures and materials. There are strings of beads, drawers and drawers full of charms, loose beads of all sorts, from tiny shell beads to big blown glass beads and everything in between. Also these funky little rubber beads, which I wanted to buy in great quantities just to handle.

You carry a little tray through the store to pick out what you want, writing down codes for any loose stuff, like at a hardware store. For the more intrepid shoppers, they even had carts with space where you could lay out bunches of trays, and pegs for hanging stringed beads and such like.

We didn't spend much, partly just because there was too much to take in on a first trip. Wayyy too much. Margaret got a few beads and earring supplies and we walked out, a little dazed. We'll have to go back.

Also, after we got back from the bead store, I finally did a dry-run for my new bike commute on the trail from the new house. It's not a bad ride, *except* for a *different* fun busy-four-lane-road crossing, where you either have to go a lonnng way out of the way to get to a very slow traffic light and wait to cross at the crosswalk, OR do what 95% of folks do and wait for a gap in traffic, dash for the median, wait for another gap, and run like mad for the other side. It's like real life Frogger. Lots of fun. At least the rest of the ride is simple and entirely off roads. Lots of people around still, but that's OK.


My bike is purty.

Sentimental Journey to a Musical Office

About halfway through my childhood, we got a TV and a VCR. We didn't pick up any broadcast channels except for PBS every once in a very great while, were too far out for cable and too...er...frugal for satellite, so VHS tapes were all we ever really watched. My dad had a tendency to periodically pick up bunches of budget movies--the sort that used to go on sale for fifty cents or a buck brand new. These days, budget movies seem to generally be recent films which didn't do well in theaters (and which should have been allowed to die quietly), but back then they were mostly old black and white movies and TV shows, copied to poor quality long play tapes without any restoration, and typically with lousy sound and picture quality. We saw shaky versions of old Tom Mix serials, the original Flash Gordon, old and mostly forgotten musicals like Born to Dance and Pot o' Gold, all sorts of James Cagney movies and Kirk Douglas movies and Bette Davis movies and Charles Boyer movies and...well, you get the idea.

One of our favorite tapes was a rather hacked together documentary about Ernie Kovacs' TV show, mostly highlights from the show: favorite skits and shorts. We eventually wore that sucker out, and for years I've thought back fondly on the bits and pieces, wishing I could revisit. For some reason, it never occurred to me to check YouTube.

Last night we were looking for a stapler, and my sister pulled out the pencil sharpener I have yet to find a home for and started whistling "Sentimental Journey." I knew exactly what she meant...I can't use a pencil sharpener without the same thing running through my head. We got to talking about that old tape and ended up on YouTube...lo and behold, you can find all *sorts* of Ernie Kovacs material on the web! This particular short is an old favorite, and (in my humble opinion), a must for those of us who love old office equipment, typewriters and otherwise.

Sunday morning on the Chehalis Western Trail

A beautiful day, a pretty trail, and a faithful companion. He's a good dog, he is.

Exits and Horizons

It has been a week of winding down after the big move and all the accompanying chaos. It did start off with one final stressful day: Monday was the hearing for that "wheels off the roadway" traffic ticket I got back in November. I'd asked for a mitigation hearing. I did drive on the shoulder. However, the fact that everyone turning right does that at that exit unless there isn't any other traffic seemed to be mitigating circumstances to me.

So...I got my court date, and Monday I put on my best dress and my good shoes, and a good friend helped me think out what I'd like to say, and also took this picture of the exit in question.



This is pretty much how it was that night, too--a moment of lightish traffic, with a few cars backed up. Other times, the cars are backed up all the way to the interstate. In either case, traffic generally forms two lines, one driving on the left, the other on the right, mostly on the shoulder.

This was my first experience in a courtroom of any kind, and mundane though the circumstances were, I couldn't help making mental notes. Not that traffic tickets amount to much of a courtroom experience.... But now I can give a character a traffic ticket and let him or her deal with it in realistic fashion...heh.

There were maybe a few dozen of us who had the same hearing time, and we all sat in a few long rows on benches at the back of the courtroom waiting for our names to be called in reverse alphabetical order. Most of the other tickets were for speeding, running red lights or failing to stop at stop signs, no proof of insurance. The one other off-the-roadway offense was more blatant: off the pavement entirely, not just partially on the shoulder while turning.

When my turn came, I got up, gave the judge the photograph, went back to the table, and said my short piece--essentially that I've lived here four years, that traffic always divides into two lanes at that exit as a way of making the best of a bad situation (truck stops to both right and left, and no traffic light, traffic gets very backed up), and didn't know I was doing anything wrong. She looked at the photo, confirmed which exit it was, and said, "So you weren't really off the road--you were on this big wide shoulder." I said yes, and she said, "It sounds to me like you'd like to contest this ticket rather than mitigating." And she explained that to contest, I would need to wait until after the mitigation hearing was complete, and then she would review the officer's statement (in lieu of his actually being there), and swear me in, and then I could, under oath, tell my side of the story. Then she would consider both sides and either I would have to pay the fine in entirety (no mitigation), or the ticket would be dismissed entirely. Contesting seemed to be the way she was guiding me, so I went for it, albeit with trepidation. She gave me the officer's statement to review and sent me back to my seat to wait until the mitigation hearing was complete.

When I sat down, the guy sitting next to me, who had already noted the location of the photo said, "You got pulled over for driving on the right shoulder *there*? What else are you supposed to do?" Made me feel a little better about my chances, but I was still really nervous. I sat there in a fog, desperately thinking prayers to the Holy Spirit that I'd know what to say, while the rest of the people went through.

When the time came, she had me swear in, and then I more or less repeated my earlier statement--not very eloquently, I'm afraid. Her response began with stating that there are lots of exits like that around the area with a tendency to get backed up, and where people turn right on the shoulder. I was thinking, "Here it comes--she's going to say, 'But that's no excuse.'" But she didn't. She ended off by saying, more or less, "I don't believe that is what wheels off the roadway means, and I'm going to dismiss this ticket." I just sat there blinking until she said, "You're free to go."

My friend Diana, who came with me to the hearing, said she wanted to stand up and cheer. ;-) A victory for the citizens of Exit 99! Me, I just went all wobbly-kneed and practically started crying. But what a relief! This whole affair has been hanging over my head for four months now, and now it's over and done with for good, as though it never happened. Now I can relax and settle into the new house.

And I do love it. I like being out of town, though it does mean I have to think a bit about combining errands in town, and it is a longer commute. I like the fact that a number of times a day we can hear trains go by--a distant rumble and whistle, not quite enough to shake the house, but enough to stir the soul. I like the way the wind sounds in the trees that surround us, and even like waking to the sound of joyous corgi barking next door. ;-) And I like being right on the trail--the best location on the map.

This morning I got up, got mostly ready for work, and then, in the dim barely-morning light, took thedog for a three mile walk.

It was raining when we started off--not a torrent, but steadily enough that I almost didn't go. Apparently others had the same thought. I didn't see another soul out there, though generally there are a few joggers, a cyclist or two: just an intrepid handful of hardy early morning folk. Today, we had the trail entirely to ourselves. I thought I'd taken a photo to end this off with...but my real camera is still missing in action, and my phone apparently chewed up the picture and swallowed it.

I rather like being out in the rain, once I get going, at least in the spring and summer. Oh, dealing with wet clothes and wet shoes when you get home isn't any fun, but being out there in the wet isn't so bad, so long as you're warm enough. And it's a different flavor of outside: everything is at once intensified and muted. The damp brings out the scent of earth and flowers, of leaves and water--and dog. Colors are heightened by the water, reflected on every surface...but softened in the lack of light. There are no sharp edges; the horizon fades off into a sort of hopeful mistiness. There is promise in the air; the rain awakens, it cleanses, it makes things grow.

I stopped a few times to let Cisco sniff around and to stand and reflect myself. The rain had a way of isolating us, capturing us in a moment. I stood and listened to it, looked off into that misty distance.

I can't see what's beyond the next rise...but I'm looking forward to it, whatever it is.

Almost there....

Well, Bernard the SG-3 is now gone (but never to be forgotten). To soften the blow a bit, rather than being sold, he was traded locally for an exceptionally clean little script SM3--the first SM3 *and* the first script machine I've ever used or owned. The only real downside aside from having to say goodbye to a favored machine is that it makes me wish I also had an SM3 or 4 in a more standard typeface. A very satisfying snap, that little thing has. Since I still need to pare down rather than adding any more to the stable, you will likely have to put up with many script typecasts as a compromise.

I haven't done much writing lately, even in my journal. All creative energy has been going into unpacking, decorating--and organizing. If the new little house has a fault, it is that it has a distinct lack of storage space. And I'm down one room. Somewhere in the midst of the move, I acquired (temporarily, at least) a live-in sister, so the office is an office no longer, and all my notebooks and papers and desk and typewriters and all are crammed into the bedroom instead. The paring down that began with the move is being forced to new levels.

I suppose Lent is an ideal time to reflect on what really matters, physically and spiritually. I've had to let go of a great deal in the last few weeks, starting with material things. I don't have that many valuable possessions, and therefore I have a tendency to think I'm not very attached to material things. Moving can be a wake-up call in that regard. My things may not be worth much, but that doesn't mean I'm good at letting go.

And then...bringing another person into the mix shows me how selfish I can be with my time, my space, my routines. It gives me new respect and admiration for those of you who work writing and other artistic hobbies around the needs and wants of spouses and children. I love my sister, and it's nice t have someone around to share experiences, to bounce ideas off, to turn to for opinions and affirmation...but there are moments when I feel at sea because I'm not alone, without anyone else affecting my schedule or offering distractions, intentional or no. Again, I suppose it's a time to consider what is truly important, and to (at least some of the time) be willing to put aside my own comfort zones and typical boundaries in order to assist and interact with others.

I'm a creature of habit, and there really isn't a habit that has been left in peace throughout this move. Everything is in transition, everything is in turmoil, there's nothing to grab onto quite yet. At times I'm so overwhelmed I feel like curling up in a corner with my back to the wall and crying. Change is awful hard. But the new little house is wonderful and bright, there are new flowers blooming outside and more on the way, the shelf above the washer and dryer will someday be up, and eventually all the items lost in transit will either turn up or be replaced. The new couch will be in place in a week or so, so I'll have a place to relax. The new route to work will become routine. The dog will calm down, as much as he ever does, and I'll stop worrying about what my previous landlord might or might not be thinking about me. Easter is just around the corner. And I can start riding my bike to work.

Found this poem as I was doing some of the shuffling of old notebooks. It was written during summer years ago when I was particularly depressed, and it's a bit...much. But I kind of like it. And there have definitely been some foggy moments these past few weeks....

Well, I did it...Bernard is on Craigslist.

Bernard is up on Craigslist, for about the amount I have in him (with the platen and all) not counting ribbons. It hurts, but I think have to at least make an effort, since I can't imagine fitting two standards in that little house without one ending up on the floor of the closet (or, heaven forbid, out in the shed), unused. That isn't fair.

It'd be nice if he ended up with someone who was into / got into typecasting, so I could keep a virtual eye on him...but we shall see. No bites yet.

Moving right along....

As my facebook friends already know, a lot has happened in the less than a week since my last post. Although I've kinda sorta been looking for a new place off and on for the last few *years*, it wasn't until right after my little rant that the perfect place came up. The location alone (right on the walking/bike trail, outside of town where it turns wooded and quiet) got me so excited I had trouble sleeping that night. I'd sent off an e-mail straight off asking if I could come by, but the next day I decided on the direct approach, and drove on over. It's a wonderful little house, all clean and bright and cheerful, with nice neighbors and room for thedog--and, as I said, *right* next to the trail, so I can meander and think to my heart's content. And ride my bike to work again (work is also right on the trail), once it isn't so dark in the mornings. I love that.

I've already signed an agreement and figured out move dates. And I've already broken the news to my current landlord, so it's all official. I'm a little dizzied by how fast this has happened after so much searching and discouragement. It's like a story. Almost doesn't seem real. I'm liable to feel pretty unsettled right up until I close the door of the current place for the last time and drive off into the sunset.

I feel like I was a little too harsh on it (and my current landlord) in my last post. Yes, it has a plethora of issues, some of them serious. But it hasn't been such a bad deal, all around. And as for my landlord...well, the poor guy never *asked* to be a landlord. He inherited me and this place and all its issues, and I think is embarrassed by the language barrier, among other things. Trying to make repairs or really analyze the place while I'm there is very awkward for him, so he's just avoided it, for the most part. It may actually be a relief that I'm going so he can finally really deal with it, I dunno. He hasn't actually spoken to me since I brought over the letter and made sure it was understood, so I'm a little nervous I won't get away without *some* sort of fuss, but..so far so good.

Now comes the packing and moving part! I have until the end of the month, which is approaching at alarming speed. One of the big concerns is that the new little house is, in fact, little. The current mobile is a double-wide, and actually pretty spacious. The new place is a tiny two bedroom bungalow with no real storage space to speak of, other than an outdoor shed. Much paring down will need to occur. In a lot of ways, this will be very good for me--force me to decide on what matters and clean up my packrat tendencies. However, sadly this will likely mean that many of the typers will be on the block, possibly including Bernard. Ulp. I'm going to stall on that decision for a few days, but if the Pacific Northwestern typospherians see a sudden glut of well-worn typers appear on Craigslist, it's my fault. I'm thinking I should really pare down to just one standard and maybe two or three portables, probably the nicer SM-9, the Galaxie and the rather chintzy Olivetti-Lettera-35l-inabag I picked up on a whim a month or so ago, just 'cause it's tiny and reminds me (for reasons I reserve for a future typecast) of my childhood teddy bear.

Other revelations of packing: good gracious I have a lot of paper! It was spread throughout the house, but I packed up most of my notebooks last night, and the result makes me feel both gloating and sheepish. Most of 'em are cheap composition notebooks, plus a few Rhodia pads and some of the lovely HP paper I use for Circa stuff and the scrap paper I use for typed drafts and the box of what's left of the onion skin paper I got from Duffy Moon. Two whole milk-crates full of unused paper, not counting the loose stuff. Makes me want to sit down in the middle of the floor and start scribbling.

And packing books tempts me to stop what I'm doing and read "just a few lines".

Which is why it's a good thing I'm starting ahead of time....

I am easily distracted.

But man, is this exciting or what??

Shameful secrets and a prayer request of sorts

I'm still struggling to get back into regularly updating my journal, let alone getting back into blogging. So...instead of any attempt at deep thoughts, how's about I just babble about stuff-I've-been-up-to-and-what's-been-on-my-mind? Kinda.

I live in a dump. Well...pretty much. It's bad. I'm ashamed of it. On any occasion where people ask where I live, I hedge. On occasions when I've needed a ride home, I ask them to let me off nearby without pointing out my house. Once, when I had my guitar worked on and the friend who fixed it up for me offered to drop it by on his way to town to save me a trip, I actually got in my car and drove to the store that's literally next door so I wouldn't have to admit to this place. It's a very old and very poorly maintained mobile home with a host of issues--only one stove burner works, the electricity to the oven is broken, the roof leaks in at least one place during hard rain, there is mold anywhere and everywhere, many of the electrical outlets don't work...I could go on. And on the outside, it's just plain ugly. It needs pressure-washed in the worst way (green crud all over it), it has shutters that were painted an odd wanna-be-Hermes sort of green, many of which dangle precariously, and the back stoop has folded in on itself.

And it's literally falling apart around me. While I was dealing with my recent cable outage, I discovered that part of the floor against the wall near where the cable comes into the house is rotted all the way through. I've fixed things I'm capable of fixing, but there are many, many limits to my skills in the fix-it-up realm.

It's a rental, so I'm not bound to it in any way. And though I've tried to make my landlord aware of my worries, he a) seems inclined to blame me and b) doesn't completely understand the problems--he's Korean and doesn't always understand me, I don't think. To be fair to him, he kind of inherited this parcel of land (and all its problems) when he bought the store next door, and it's a bit of an afterthought for him. But even so...he is my landlord. I'm sure if I really made a stink about it, he'd at least take a stab at things...but in all honesty, he doesn't have a great track record for finishing things. Also in all honesty, this place should probably be torn down and replaced with a new mobile if it's going to continue as a rental property.

My stay here was originally meant to be very temporary. It's a long and boring story, but in essence, it was cheap rent, and I wanted somewhere to live until I was more settled in my job when I first moved out here, and there are, in fact, some good things about this location. I have a good amount of land and a huge fenced yard, where I'm allowed to keep my dog. I'm near the interstate, but out of town (except for the mini-mart next door). Most of the time, this place is mostly warm and mostly dry--it's fine all summer, and it's really only this time of year it gets me down in a big way. I realize that compared to much of the world, I'm incredibly blessed.

But I really want to move on. However, the pickings are slim. I have a dog about the size of a small Labrador, for one thing, and it can be hard to find rentals that are OK with that. There's no way I'd give him up. Besides the fact that he's my dog and I wouldn't abandon him, as a single gal living alone, there's a great deal of comfort in having a biggish black dog around. Granted, *I* know the most he's liable to do to an intruder is to breathe on them excitedly and drool on their fingers, but *they* don't necessarily know that.

And the two cats...well, I dragged them all the way from Vermont with me. They're not going anywhere, either.

But having both means most of the places that would work well for us are those really geared toward families--which often means they're actually too big and well out of my price range. Also often crammed into housing communities up near Fort Lewis, when I'd rather be, if anything, further south and more rural. There just aren't many rentals available in rural areas, which only makes sense.

To complicate matters (or simplify them, I haven't decided which), nearby friends are finally buying their own bit of land and a house, so their current home will probably be available. The downside is that it too is a mobile, albeit a much nicer one in much better condition. And they live right here, which would make moving easy. And all my routines and paths and haunts could remain the same. The rent would be some higher, but not a lot. They do, however, have space for horses, and I don't need that. I think I'd worry about not making full use of the place, silly though that may sound. And above all, I don't want to take it over just because it's convenient--if it's the *right* move (and it may well be), I want to do so, but I can be all too quick to jump on the easy route.

On the other hand, taking something a long way away and at the edge of what I'm able to spend just because it's *different* from here would be a bad move, too. Even if this place itself is pretty lousy, I have a lot going for me: "my" coffee house is pretty much on the way to work, I have my routines where grocery shopping and the library and all go, and above all, I have a *fabulous* parish in St. Michael's in downtown Olympia: it's a huge parish, which can make it a bit daunting, but because of the size they can support all sorts of activities and different groups. And they have Perpetual Adoration. Awesome.

My tendency is to rush into things once I've made a decision to make a change. I get completely obsessed with a thought and have trouble dealing with any other aspects of life, and that's just not right. I've been here almost four years. A few more months one way or another isn't going to make a difference. I'm going to keep an eye out on Craigslist and such, keep thinking about the nearby option, do some driving around to get a feel for the various neighborhoods out there. For those of you who are the praying sort, I'd really appreciate prayers for guidance--and patience!