For example, that looks like a lovely pile of ceramics, doesn’t it? Like a perfect kiln firing?

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Both the brown and red yarn bowls need to be reglazed on the inside, and then re-fired; apparently I only put two coats, not three coats, on the inside and there are spots that aren’t finished and the unfinished spots look like they might snag yarn.

See those three yarn mugs on the left? Two green, and one red? All custom orders. Except that it’s supposed to be two red and one green.

Sigh.

See that plate in the middle? I’ve been working on a set of dishes since the beginning of November. Everything is finished except for the one plate. I’ve made it three times, and the glaze has exploded off the side all three times. I’m glad that the sixth person in my customer’s family is still a baby and doesn’t need a plate yet, but I hope to FSM that I’ve got this worked out by the time he’s old enough to need it.

:headdesk:

See those two brown mugs? The glaze did something funky on the handle of one of them, and I need to put more glaze on it and re-fire that as well.

See the green-footed mugs? I used Neon Green on the feet. Last time I made them I used Lime Green. I was supposed to use Lime Green this time. I did not.

But other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how did you enjoy the play?

—

Here’s one about a TSA agent, caught with someone’s iPad, who allegedly took another $50,000 worth of goods from other travelers.

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This one just fills me with a white-hot rage – 95 year old woman in the last stages of fighting leukemia, dehumanized. “If old people don’t remove their undergarments, the terrorists have won!” Gah.

—

Even though I starred this one in May, I’m embarrassed to say I don’t know how it turned out. Texas was close to banning TSA searches without probable cause, so the TSA reinterprets the constitution. Which reminds me, isn’t there an Amendment that states everyone who reads this should send me a bottle of vodka and a free puppy?

—

All animals were created equal, but some are more equal than others. Apparently TSA Security singles out people who complain loudly about… wait for it… TSA Security.

—

OH NO WAIT, here’s one more — even the TSA can’t explain why their enhanced patdowns are legal. Hahahahahah *ow* my head just exploded.

—

OK, I can’t take it any more. Here are two amusing things –

A long customs line that I would have paid good money to be stuck in, and weird things that people try to smuggle.

GON OUT
BACKSON
BISY
BACKSON
C.R.

– A. A. Milne

So a couple of weeks ago I wrote a screed about how I really need to start limiting myself to doing two things a day. Not two things as in “shower” and “put on pants” but in the large world-view of my crafting, that I need to limit it to, say, “dyeing yarn” and “firing the kiln.” Because I have a tendency – and nobody is surprised – to try to bite off more than I can chew in a day. I know I’m not going to have to stop working to take care of customers (just the dogs) and I seem to not be able to realistically grok how much time it takes me to do things, so I will often try to dye yarn, and make soap, and glaze ceramics, and pour some greenware. Because in my head I can justify doing all these things because there’s down-time from each of them while I’m soaking, or waiting for something to dry, or waiting for something to melt, or blargity-blarg-blarg-blarg. But then there are hours a day when I’m running around like a chicken with my head cut off, trying to do everything at once (because it seems like everything that needs to happen, happens at once) and I’m constantly poking myself during the day to remind myself not to forget to do THIS THING that’s in the other room and because I don’t see it, I might forget it, and maybe I should get up from what I’m doing and go in the other room and check on it and wait, why did I come into this room? Oh, look, the cat box needs to be cleaned out! And by the end of the day I’ve got projects going in four different rooms and nothing is finished. Whoops.

So I determined that I must make it TWO THINGS per day, not a hundred. And that worked out really well, for about twelve minutes.

No, really, it worked out well for about three days. I was putting work away about the same time that Tim got home from work, and things were getting completed, and I even had time to catch up on pre-blogging a few things that weren’t just the Tuesday Treasury. Then I got a couple of custom soap orders ABOUT WHICH I AM NOT COMPLAINING IN ANY WAY!!! but of course since I already had ceramics I was doing that had a due date on them… I thought… well, I can just whip out this soap while I’m cleaning this greenware, and I won’t try to do anything else, and it’ll all be good. And then I got a rather large ceramic order that is going to take until January to complete, but I can do it in stages, which means some massive pouring and then massive glazing in order to justify so many firings of the kiln, as I can’t just fire the kiln with one piece (it’s a large kiln). And then I started discussing with Wild Iris about putting my soap up on their website, which means making a lot more soap… and you know where this is going, right? By the end of the day yesterday I was packing for today’s Craft Market, wrapping soap, popping soap out of molds, cleaning soap molds rather than making more soap because I didn’t have enough space on the counter to cut up a new block of base soap, popping a couple of troubling ceramic molds open that didn’t want to dry out in time to open them Thursday night (I poured about a dozen molds on Thursday morning before making and wrapping soap), all the time walking through the worlds most frightening kitchen that I didn’t have time to clean. I swear, when I went out to get the mail yesterday I almost started crying because I didn’t feel I had enough time to even look through it, let alone open something.

That has got to change.

I don’t feel, work-wise, that I’m overwhelmed (believe me, I am happy with how work is going! I love work!); I just feel that schedule-wise I am overwhelmed. Does that make sense? I just need to … oh, I hate to say “work smarter” because that makes it sound as if I’m next going to be saying things like “thanks for the heads-up” and “I’m working the problem” and “have your people call my people.” But I need to … I don’t know. Get an intern? Kidnap a South American child? Find some low-or-more-likely-un-paid lackey who can come to my house once every two weeks and do things like cut up a block of base soap, stamp mailing supplies with my “H” logo, print out and cut soap and yarn labels that I’m going to need soon, fold and cut up paper for future soap wrapping, wind yarn, remind me to clean the cat boxes and tell me why I walked into this room, oh, and serve me fruity frozen rum drinks (A GIRL CAN DREAM).

You know, I feel better, actually, just having bitched about it.

Carry on!

I decided to also write them up as a blog post to which I can link from my soap pages on Etsy, so that interested parties can read it, and also perhaps turn that into a flyer that I can hand out at events.

What I’d like from y’all, if you have a minute, is to shout out with any questions you have about my soap-making process, or let me know if you have any positive feedback of my products that you’d like to see included in a blog post and flyer (you can either comment here or email me). I’m going to have a double-sided tri-fold flyer, I think, and I’d love to have one fold be just feedback and rave reviews (which sounds terribly self-centered, but can sometimes help new buyers to relate to a product if someone says something in a way they’d say it themselves).

* The funny thing is that I’m so obtuse sometimes that I didn’t even realize this woman was being catty. Which is funny on both of our parts — funny that I’m so thick I didn’t get it until hours after the fact, and funny that there’s this woman so threatened by someone who doesn’t even register her that she had to (in her mind) tear me down to build herself up.

But I decided to start in January, and knit one per month, giving myself a good three months of leeway should (drumroll, please) anything go wrong. OH THE FORESHADOWING.

So in January I knitted Rusty’s stocking, and felted it. It didn’t felt quite as much as I wanted it to, but was starting to bell out at the top and I didn’t want that, so I stopped felting. It was … usable. Not great… a little too big… but I figured maybe I could knit him a second one if time allowed.

In February I knitted Aunt Gay’s stocking, and I brought the cast-on down to 80 from 100, thinking maybe that might work a little better.

So clearly that worked out.

Not.

So I’ve started and ripped out the third one about six times now, and I have to tell you… this idea is seriously losing its appeal. Here’s my drama: 100 stitches didn’t really felt enough. 80 stitches felted far too much. I wanted to go with felted stockings because I doubted my ability to sew a lining to the inside of 9 stockings, and unfelted (or unlined) stockings are going to be mighty, mighty loose. I’m not following a pattern, because I didn’t like 100% of any of the stocking patterns I found; just bits of this one and parts of that one — so I’m basically making a huge sock and felting it. Note: The majority of the felted stocking patterns I find on Ravelry call for a cast-on of 64 stitches (granted, on much larger needles than what I’m using).

I figure I can do one of the following things:

• Say “fuck it” and blind my disappointed family with extra Chex Mix, hoping they’ll not notice.
• Suck it up and brush of my horrible sewing skills enough to line the inside.
• Go back to the 100 stitches, and felt the fuck out of it.
• Hold two strands together, and use one of the patterns I’ve found on Ravelry that calls for a 64-stitch cast-on.
• Forget full-sized stockings, and make mini-stockings out of sock yarn and stick chocolate in them; putting them inside the commercial red-and-white stockings we have now (bonus: I could probably also then make a bunch for other friends, if they were only the size of chocolate bars).
• Cry.

Anybody got anything else to add? Any advice? Throw me a bone, people! I’m torn, seriously; on one hand, this project has reached the critical, yarn-time-out level of ‘really no longer enjoyable’ (remember my Simply Knitted Bodice from 2005? That piece of shit is STILL in time out!)… but I really love the Rockwellian vision of beautifully hand-knitted stockings above Aunt Gay and Uncle Joe’s fireplace. Help a knitta out? I only have until December, you know!

—

Maybe this bothers me so much because my Uncle had an ostomy bag for over a year, but, still. Retired teacher reduced to tears after TSA groping breaks open his ostomy bag and covers him with his own urine.

—

Maybe this bothers me so much because I have a friend who is an amputee, and has a son (albeit older than 4), but… still. Amputee forced to remove prosthesis and be separated from four-year-old son.

—

Maybe this bothers me so much because … oh, who am I kidding? These are all fucking dehumanizing and marginalizing. I don’t have to defend why I’m livid about it. Hey, TSA – how about a little blood on your hands? TSA Groin Searches Menstruating Woman

—

All animals are equal. But some animals are more equal than others. Especially if you’re a politician.

—

Here’s an interesting story by a man with Titanium “replacement parts” (as he calls them) and his take on security.

—

Here’s a link to an 11 minute video of a mother being held up (for over an hour) over a bottle of breast milk; the same TSA members she’d dealt with the week before hold her for so long that she misses her flight.

—

Oh, those wacky TSA agents and their hilarious cocaine pranks.

—

Hey, pedos! Rather than go to jail for touching young children, how about getting a job with the TSA? Then it’s OK to tell kids that getting groped is “just a game.”

—

Man tries to opt out of both groping and pornoscanner; told he’ll be fined $10,000 unless he chooses one.

—

Remember that pilot everyone wants in a crisis? He’s got a few words to say (if you can hear them over the sound of his GIANT BRASS BALLS.) Sully … can land a passenger jet in a river without so much as getting a passenger wet, but he couldn’t stop the TSA from hand searching his own wife during a recent trip.

—

God forbid you should try to board with 4 ounces of hand lotion, or maybe a bottle of breast milk for your child; those are a threat. .40 caliber loaded handguns? Didn’t even catch it.

Related: TSA agents check out Adam Savage’s junk, but miss his two 12″ razor blades.

—

Immigration officer fired after putting wife on list of terrorists to stop her flying home (so anyone with a personal vendetta can use the War on Terrorism as a personal vendetta! Yay!)

—

Two TSA agents arrested at JFK Airport for stealing $39K from passenger’s bag (arguably it was a boneheaded move to stick that much cash in your bag; but still. My luggage is not your five-finger-discount shopping station.)

—

Ever care about the screeners point of view? Personally, not really. But here it is anyway.

—

But sometimes there is hope: Alaska state rep refuses TSA grope of her mastectomy scars, drives home from Seattle. And Jesse Ventura has filed a lawsuit against the TSA. And Phil Mocek took this video in 2009 and was just recently acquitted after over a year of legal battle.

Somewhat related: Furrygirl’s sexy stripdown protest in Seattle airport mocking TSA security theater (NSFW video)

—

PS. Here is a link to a PDF of your TSA Checkpoint Rights. Learn them. Live them. Love them (before they’re taken away like all our other civil liberties OH WAS THAT OUT LOUD?)

—

I have to go bang my head into a wall for a while now. Happy Sunday, everyone! Anyone flying soon…?

So. I THOUGHT (hahahahah!) that I’d told you the whole story back in December; turns out there was a minor addendum last month that almost made me find a baby to punch in the face.

We had about a week to get all the vegetation away from the house. Including my ten-year-old rose vine. I’M NOT BITTER. Wait, YES I AM.

So… I don’t really know what to say. They told us to do it or they’d cancel the insurance. So we did it.

I am not denying that my yard needed some maintenance – I basically haven’t worked on it at all since opening the yarn store. So it’s not like this isn’t going to be a great opportunity to replant flowers in the Spring. But… it’s just the way we had to do it. I strongly dislike “do it or else” ultimatums. I’m not a child. I know it needs to be done. I know we live in a shithole, but… have you SEEN our neighborhood? We practically live in the ghetto! It’s not there’s a bunch of $500,000 mansions in the gated community and we’re bringing the prices down. Fuck. Also, it’s fucking FEBRUARY. We’ve had a number of unusual freezes (for our area) and practically everything in town, let alone our yard, is dead. Even the prettiest plants will look like shit when dead and brown.

Anyway. I’m still cranky about this. And I probably will be until about this time next month when we get a bunch of flowers.

MEANWHILE. Here’s a shitload of photos that I’ve taken over the years of our yard, both front and back. Here’s a direct link to the album in case you’re reading this in a Reader and don’t see the album below.

“I love mankind; it’s people I can’t stand.” — Charles M. Schulz

At one of the bookstores where I used to work, I had a district manager who used to pop out such gems as “my perception of you is your reality” and “you are the person I think you are.” Mostly I think he was a Tool for the Corporate Culture, but he did sort of have a point. If I don’t know you at all and the first time you talk with me you are a total ass, then 100% of the times I have dealt with you, you have been a total ass. You know, as opposed to if I see you every other day for five years and maybe three times you behave like an ass – that’s hardly even worth mentioning. But the first situation? That’s not going to want to make me deal with you again.

So if I have to email you – and this is completely hypothetically, of course – but if I were to have to email you three times and say “I can’t help you, but good luck with that!” and you … keep… on… emailing me… insisting that you are right and I can so do what you want me to do… I may start ignoring you. Or I may get really bitchy. It’s a toss-up!

It may also cause me to be unintentionally bitchy to the next person with whom I interact, for which I’m really quite sorry.

Oh, and here’s another tip – if you email me at the beginning of a  month to ask me a question, and I get back with you within 24 hours, and you don’t get back with your response within about a week or so, I am going to assume that you’re not interested. So if you contact me about six weeks later with an emergency that you want me to solve for you, I’m not going to be overly sympathetic! Especially if you (1) ask me for things I don’t have to give, followed by (2) asking me to ignore that and just send you a bunch of other things that I don’t have, quickly; followed by (3) telling me that you don’t want them at all, and finishing up with (4) sending me an entire new list of needs. Not only am I going to tell you that I can’t help you (but good luck with your endeavors!) but I may roll my eyes at you. And you might show up on my blog when I need to vent. THIS IS ALL HYPOTHETICAL OF COURSE.

And I’m not saying that I’ve never given anyone the wrong impression of who I am, or never been needlessly bitchy to some poor person who thanks to cruel fate was on the receiving end of my bad day.

But really? To get all this in the same couple of days? REALLY?

It’s a good thing that something really fucking magical happened this week or I’d be a lot more stabby than I am!

But whatever; our insurance agent is a peach, and he called us to say that his daughter is taking over the reins of the homeowner line and will find us new victims, er, a new company. We have until December 10th, which is the very last day that we have insurance – but not to worry! This will be taken care of by the beginning of November at the latest!

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

Just before Thanksgiving, she finally found someone who would take us on, and since our house hasn’t been inspected in this century, we got a home inspection. But let me see… we have dogs; we have a dog that might be a pit breed; we have a roof more than 20 years old; we have a furnace that’s more than 50 years old but it’s not hooked up to anything as the tank has long since been disposed of; we have two kilns that regularly fire to more than 1800 degrees sitting on the back porch; we have some renovations that have never been finished; we have a multitude of pine trees that could jump on top of the house and crush it in the slightest breeze; we allegedly live within 150 feet of a 100-year flood plane; the original electrical wiring in our home was apparently chiseled out of bedrock; and we run a business out of our home. WE WERE TOTALLY NOT WORRIED AT ALL THAT WE WOULD BE DENIED. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Would you believe we got a call within days saying we’d been approved? She would send us the paperwork. Everything was fine.

Except when the paperwork got here it said that if we signed this, we were stating that we didn’t run a business out of our home, and something that I don’t remember now (stress is a great memory blocker) but I think it was about leaving the spaces blank that described our dogs, as there are something like 17 breeds of dogs that insurance companies in Florida won’t approve. FUCK YOU, MICHAEL VICK!

So – and honestly even though this was just a couple of weeks ago, my memory is already fuzzy on this, because Sweet Zombie Jesus, how much can one person take?! – Tim was going to take it down to whats-her-name and talk to her, specifically about the business part. It is now, I think, the first week of December.

Meanwhile, we got a letter from our Mortgage Company stating that it had recently come to their attention that our house was uninsured, which meant that disturbingly non-humorous men wearing black were going to come around and stand threateningly on our porch (but not on a part of the porch too close to any trees, or they might get crushed, and without insurance they wouldn’t be able to sue us) and sort of … I don’t know, look at us over the tops of their glasses until we got insurance? There was a veiled threat in their letter, but no actual information of what might happen to us without insurance. Maybe they’d come and flood the house, out of spite?

Oh, and attached to the same letter was some documentation stating that our homeowner’s insurance was not approved because we heat the house with electric space heaters, which apparently may burst into flame and dance around the house willy-nilly, setting things on fire. And if our house did burn down, apparently according to the inspector the home was only worth $10,000 – not the $100,000 we’d gotten it appraised at when we refinanced a few years ago. Wow, a $90,000 drop? I’m surprised there’s not more random gunfire in our ‘hood. And homeless drug addicts sleeping under my car.

Needless to say I was already planning on knitting us a tent that we could live in out on the streets, and Tim was as close to punching a baby in the face as I’ve ever seen him.

A few WTF emails later, between Tim and the Insurance Agent’s Daughter (which sounds like a Shakespeare play… sort of like “Romeo and Ethel, the Pirate’s Daughter”) and she got everything straightened out, and last week we got a letter stating that our house is indeed worth $100,000 and it is insured so if it burns down or blows away that we will be reimbursed, and also our mortgage company likes us again and we can sit at their table for lunch.

And I have quite a few more grey hairs, but you can’t see them because I’ve bleached them all blonde.