I'm sick and it's making me mean (okay, meaner)

LA is on fire and all the smoke in the air is killing me. My head feels like a Macy's parade balloon and sinuses are all swollen. My throat is very sore, too. I tried using the Neti pot for some relief but it just made it worse. I'm drinking lots of tea and ice cold water.

In the mail today, I received a catalog for Lakeside Collection, a purveyor of "unique gifts" at cheap prices. While flipping through I came across this:Wii accessories. Okay, a steering wheel for driving games, tennis rack, golf club, baseball bat, I'm with you so far....but, um, what is that other attachment? And more importantly, does it have the rumble feature?

A few pages later I came across a photo of a little girl selling some kind of paper dolls. It's mean. I know. I'm horrible. But the resemblance was uncanny.Oh, I'm going to hell. and I'm feeling like it, too. I need more tea. And perhaps a nap.

I was Lindsay Weir--Vintage Photo Friday

I've been watching "Freaks & Geeks" on DVD this week because the rash of wild fires and subsequent helicopter traffic has made my antenna cut out, and I had a sudden realization last night. I was Lindsay Weir in high school, but in a uniform and with older siblings and divorced parents, but yeah, just like that. I was graduating high school during the same era. I had the best friend from childhood that my parents liked and trusted, and the school friends that my mom thought were a bad influence (they weren't). I had a crush on the bad boy who played guitar, whom I got to be friends with because I knew that Curtis Loew* was the finest picker to ever play the blues.

Here for your Vintage Friday pleasure is a young Laurie Ann, circa 1982. I was 17 and already an aunt (Hi Roy). Pay no attention to how incredibly horse-like my front teeth appear. They have since been tamed.Behold my senior portrait. It was the early 80's and the cowl neck was in (this one was burgundy velour). I had only recently cut my hair in layers, and began letting them grow out shortly after this picture was taken.I look a little flighty in this photo. I believe it was taken in home room, where I sat behind the incredibly handsome John Mrakovcich, who had killer blue eyes, dark brown hair, and dimples you could smuggle dope in. That would explain the smile. This is me and Jackie Quaresimo at an FBLA function. That's Future Business Leaders of America, for those of you who didn't know and didn't watch "Veronica Mars." Does Executive Assistant count as being a business leader? We used to say Jackie was born blond (apologies to my blond friends). I think she still holds the record for blowing through more stop signs in one day than any other driver in Notre Dame history.Karen Hughes (above) was my Kim Kelly, but with a better family life. She wasn't a bad girl, but she, along with Jackie, had done a brief stint in the dreaded PUBLIC SCHOOL. Karen was my partner in crime for most of my high school years. Oh, the adventures Karen and I had in high school and beyond. I'd tell you, but I've been sworn to secrecy. (Not really, I just don't want to sully what's left of my good reputation. ) We used to call Karen's hair "the hurricane-blown look" because it was more than wind blown.

Okay, so 27 years is hardly vintage. I just got very nostalgic this week.


*It's a Lynyrd Skynyrd song

A quick birthday note

HAPPY BIRTHDAY

to my handsome nephew, Niko, who turns 22 today.

You may remember him from the weekend of handsomeness March 2008 when he blew into town with his friends. He's still single (ish), ladies.


Photo stolen from his father's Facebook page. Thanks, Michael.

It's much too Mochimochi

The knitting project I'm currently working on involves a lot of stockinette. A whole lot of stockinette. The knitters in the crowd will understand when I say, I needed a break. I needed something quick. Something satisfying. Something unbearably cute. Mochimochiland to the rescue.

I made Campy and the Mallows last weekend but didn't want to show them until our Camp Director, for whom they were made, came back to the office. He was super excited.This weekend, I whipped up some weeds, or Weeeds, as the pattern is called.The weeds have invaded my Impatiens. I think they just like the view from up here, since they're so used to being trod upon.

I have some Stackable Cats in the works, and some Grass, but I really want to make Boo. They are all my favorites.

I wrote this for my sister, but you can read it, too.

Hey Katie Lady,

I wanted to share a funny story with you. I am becoming our mother.
As you may recall, one of my neighbors keeps using my trash can. It pisses me off because I don't accumulate much trash, but every two weeks when the bag is full and I attempt to take it out, my can is full already with someone else's crap. Now, I could be a jerk and use another trash can, but two wrongs don't make it right (or something like that). So, I was lying in bed trying to sleep Wednesday night (or Thursday Morn as it was 3am) when I heard someone rolling a trash can out to the curb. "Who's taking out their trash at this hour?" I thought. Followed by, "Rats! I forgot to take out my trash!" So, I peeked out the window to see who it was and it was the chick downstairs who ripped up the carpet when she moved in. She had had a party over the weekend and I guess she had a lot of trash because she was rolling out not one, not two, but three trash cans. Crimoney! Someone needs to learn about recycling. I saw her gathering and there weren't more than 10 people. Anyway, I was so mad at her. I thought, "I'll fix her little red wagon," and then I giggled because it's such a Mom thing to say.

Anyway, yesterday when I got home from my dentist appointment all the trash cans were still sitting on the curb (which is the other thing that irks me--she uses my can but never brings it back from the curb so I get in trouble with the Frau). I grabbed my can and pulled it up to my front porch. Then I went upstairs, grabbed the can of white paint I had in the cupboard, some Q-tips, a tube of moist towelettes, a Wite-out pen, and my bags of trash that didn't get out. Using Q-tips, I painted my apartment number in thick white paint about 4 inches high on the top and both sides of the can, then added "only" for good measure. Then, with the Wite-out pen, I wrote "Unless you live at [my apt #], please stop using this trash can!!" I used two exclamation points because everyone knows you mean business when you use two.

When I finished, I wiped up the drips on the sides, surveyed my handiwork and declared myself satisfied. I may have even added a little nod of my head, Little Rascals style. This morning while I was filling the water dispenser, I looked outside to see my trash can, white numbers gleaming in the sun, and I had to laugh at myself. I think you can probably see them from the police helicopters, which is kind of a civil service if the police are hunting a suspect and need to tell the ground units where they are.

In other news, I have a pretty new crown and it doesn't hurt anymore, although I now have cramps to pick up the slack.

The towelettes were to clean off the top of the can before painting.

Wish me luck

I didn't mention this yesterday, but on top of all the tooth troubles, Jamie has been acting up. She's been kind of sputtery upon acceleration. It feels much like the problem I was having a year ago when she kept breaking down on me. So, after Tuesday's dental appointment, I drove her out to see her friend Max, the German Car King. Naturally, when Max test drove around the block, she didn't sputter at all, but based on my description and the problems we had before, Max decided she was misfiring and hooked her up to the diagnostics machine. The computer found nothing wrong, but Max checked the spark plugs anyway, since that was the root of all evil last time. He only changed plugs 1 and 4, since they were easily reached without removing the manifold and they were "gunked up." Max said if she still had problems to bring her back and he'd change 2 and 3. Here's the rub: I can't afford to bring her back until payday (end of the month) and she's acting up something fierce today. I'm kind of afraid she'll leave me stranded on the way to the dentist so I also mapped out the bus route to Burbank and I'll be taking those streets instead of the freeways. Fingers crossed that I make it to and from. After that, I think I'll let her sit until payday rather risk a break down.

Meanwhile, enjoy these old dentist photos in honor of my impending doom.

I feel your pain, little guy.

Look how pretty the chair and spit sink look. It's like a dentist set up shop in my Grandmother's living room.

Have a great weekend.

What time is the best time for a dentist appointment?

Tooth Hurty! hee hee

You may have noticed a lull over here at the blog that gingham built. I've been in pain. My tooth, the one I broke while eating rice, broke again a couple of weeks ago. I decided it was time to see the dentist. I made an appointment for last Friday early in the morning, but since the boss was on vacation and I didn't know what they'd do to the tooth, I took the day off. Boy am I glad I did.

This dentist is new to me and this visit my first, so it was a long one. X-rays, medical history, a couple of pokes and prods and then I saw the first doctor. He looked it over, poked some more and declared, "This tooth needs a root canal!" Nooooooooooooo! Okay, honestly, I've never had a root canal, nor did I know what it was, exactly, but I've always heard people talking about it and how awful they were. Also, along with the root canal, it needs a crown--as do two other teeth. And, hey, while I'm here, I might as well have the super deluxe cleaning that requires them to shoot me full of Novocaine. The first visit consisted of the doctor prepping my tooth and putting on a temporary crown. When the Novocaine finally wore off, I was in so much pain. The tooth didn't hurt at all when I went in.

On Tuesday, they did the actual root canal. Still no permanent crown, which will be done tomorrow. But Oh MY GOD!!! The pain!! Seriously, I have a really high pain threshold and hardly ever take pain medication unless it's a blinding migraine or a limb is hanging off. Yesterday, I was begging co-workers for Vicodin. I could feel each beat of my heart throb in the roots of my tooth. Needless to say, I didn't get much work done and was less than pleasant to be around. Today is much better, although I still can't eat food that requires actual chewing. I hope after tomorrow, when the permanent crown is in place, the pain subsides because quite frankly, I am so over this shit.

Moral of the story: Don't ignore that broken tooth because root canals suck ass.

Also, my dental insurance is a joke. My co-worker's dentist told her it wasn't insurance, it was a discount coupon. So much for a new car or new apartment this year.