Suziecreamcheese Sings the Blues

A former student sent me a message today. I had a feeling I shouldn’t open it because he’s known to send those stupid memes that end with a scary face jumping out at you. I don’t think those things are funny. I’ve told him this more than once, but there’s something about scaring other people that seems to hold an appeal for some.

I have arachnophobia. I have this to the point where if I see a spider, I will run screaming from the room before I realize I’m gone. I then shake uncontrollably and normally cry for several minutes. I think this started when I was a little kid, I have a vague memory of my oldest sister putting a spider on me and then calling me a baby when I screamed.

I guess this sort of thing was always considered funny.

So in spite of my gut feeling, I opened the message. Two young boys, sitting in front of a cabinet, slowly opened the drawer and out jumped a huge spider. Realistic enough that it seemed to be jumping at me, and my phone flew across the car seat, landing face down, as I screamed and then began to cry. In my car. At the park.

He knows I have arachnophobia and he knows it’s bad. When I calmed down, several minutes later, while praying that this image wouldn’t haunt me all day (and yes, that sometimes happens), I messaged him. In caps. If he ever sent me anything with a spider again, I would unfriend him and never speak to him again. His response – “hahaha, I just had to.” My response was not fit for virgin ears but since I know y’all don’t fit that description, it was “no, m*****f****r, you did NOT HAVE TO.”

Then he was sorry. I said not to apologize, just don’t ever do this shit again.

All of this got me thinking. Why do people think it’s funny to scare people? Do they like it when they’re on the other end of it? I have a happy, everyone loves me, puppy, who thinks that every person – almost – in the world has been placed there simply to pet him. I, however, know that there is the odd person who fears dogs. (One of my sisters is one of them) (She won’t admit it but she is) So if someone doesn’t appear to want to pet him, I ask if they would like to, and if they say no, I walk him away. We’re all afraid of something,

I could say it’s just boys being boys but I’ve had women do this to me, as well. Grown women, who should know better, cackling with laughter when I threw something across the room because they had hidden a rubber spider inside.

These are not people who don’t know about my fear. I just don’t get it.

And if anyone posts a picture of a spider in the comments, you will immediately and irrevocably be banned. Momma ain’t playing here.

It’s gorgeous outside so to heck with cleaning- it’s the lawn swing, the Kindle and knitting today!

the birds are singing in the trizz

my nose is really on the fritz

Okay, it’s not great but it sorta rhymes

I have allergies

Spring allergies. Big time allergies. My head is clogged, and I swear if I sneeze many more times, my head is gonna fall off and roll down the driveway.

I love Spring. I love the awakening of everything that went dormant over the winter. I love the warm days and cool nights, and even though I dearly love summer, spring is probably my favorite season.

Except for the damned sneezing. And the itchy eyes. And runny nose. And exhaustion.

I can’t take allergy meds, they make my heart race. So I suffer, but I never suffer in silence. Nope, if I’m suffering, I want the world to know about it.

So no, darling students, I’m not grading your stuff tonight. Perhaps tomorrow, when the exhaustion has lifted, I will look at your journal entries and they won’t all look backwards.

Or maybe I’ll just put a border on this:

I think a plain pale blue border and then a wide puppy print border for this one.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

He’s gotten into the habit of being a real butnit in the evening so we go for a ride in the car and that seems to settle him down. Only problem is we inevitably end up at Hobby Lobby.

Today’s haul was a couple of skeins of yarn for another Wallaby for the baby that’s due in a few weeks, since the smallest size is a 2, I may as well make a couple. (I always plan on making a couple of whatever project I start and sometimes I even do it) Some pretty plum yarn that was super soft caught my eye, so I’m sure someone will get a scarf next Winter from that. Quilt battings were on sale and there’s the baby blanket that needs done and the puppy themed throw I cut blocks for the other day, so that went into the basket. Some dog themed fabric I hadn’t seen before also caught my eye – my niece in law has never met a dog she didn’t love and she’s snagged every mask I’ve sent with a dog print, so this was for her. A half yard is plenty for a couple of masks, and even though I swear I’m not making any more, she’ll love it, so there you go.

And home we came. The weather is beautful but Barky McBarkerson has to let every bird fart be greeted with a barrage of bellowing so we didn’t get to sit outside long. Soon the Bear will have the lawn swing put back together and we can sit in the back yard, where the birds don’t fart, the squirrels stay away and Maverick can’t see every car that passes by 750 feet away from the house.

in case anyone is interested, this is the quilt I’m going to attempt. https://youtu.be/Uyd3jbTXRS0

If you’ve never watched this lady, she’s a hoot.

There’s some nasty stuff right there.

Maverick does not agree

Maverick thinks it’s quite tasty

This is a good thing. Mommah is hiding his pills in it. Mommah doesn’t like shoving them down his lovely little throat, and he won’t swallow them otherwise. So, little balls of stinky liverwurst to the rescue.

Oh, the things we do for our kids. My fingers are stinky but the pills are swallowed.

I currently have no self control when it comes to shopping. Hence the recent purchase of the pattern for the Wonderful Wallaby sweater. http://cottagecreationspatterns.com/patterns/sweaters/the-wonderful-wallaby/

I got both the adult size and the child’s because I have no self control, remember?

Last night I bought some brown yarn. My BFF’s daughter is giving birth in 3 weeks to a little boy that we’ve chosen to call Charlie. This is not his name, but we like it so we figure he’ll learn to answer to it as we all do to a nickname. I shall make my first Wallaby for him.

This is not my fault, it’s because a fellow blogger told me I needed to cast on and I’m also not good with ignoring suggestions.

At any rate, that was my fun for the weekend. I also managed to do three months worth of journal entries, t-accounts, trial balances and financial statements in Excel for my classes. Which start tomorrow. All five of them. What the heck was I thinking taking five classes? It’s okay, I have plenty of booze.

Meanwhile, the world keeps getting nuttier by the day. I’m trying to figure out why some things are cancelled but not others. Hawkeye Pierce is a womanizer, and that whole Spearchucker thing? And Klinger? Really? Why hasn’t THAT shit been cancelled?

I’ve let my nails grow. This rarely happens and the clicking while typing may be one of the reasons for that.

That was a digression

I talked to my sister yesterday. She thinks that the current occupant of the White House is “offering hope.” I did not, in spite of myself, guffaw. I’m pretty sure that “Dark Winter” and ‘You might be able to gather in small groups by July 4th” is not really offering hope. “We’re going to open the hell up in two weeks!” would be offering hope.

She also is defending Andrew Cuomo for some reason. I don’t talk political stuff with her because I value her as my sister and I don’t want to have to cut her off again. I think she needs to get off MSM though!

So the other night when I went to bed, the bow fell off my glasses. I’d like to say it was because of some vigorous activity but alas, it was just me taking them off to place them on the headboard. I am blind as the proverbial bat. (and this is where my mind goes these days – I hope that isn’t offensive to bats) My glasses are never far from me because I quite literally cannot see more than a few inches before it all turns to a blur. (I was going to type “feet” but I took them off to check and the computer screen went all blurry) (I have a second pair, settle down, Beavis, I’m getting there)

I was all snug in bed and decided that the broken bow – it actually wasn’t broken, it just fell off – could wait till morning. Bear got out the trusty crazy glue (don’t put it in your hair, by the way) (wait, that’s Gorilla glue, you might be okay with Crazy Glue) and fixed the damage. Sort of. I think there may have been a piece lost because that bow is a bit floppy, so my glasses slide off a lot.

Thankfully, I never get rid of the last pair. (See, I told you to hold on) They’re not perfect but they’re better than stumbling about the house and considering that I do need to drive most days, they keep me from crashing the car into things. Bear gets cranky when I break the car. It’s okay if I break me, but damn, that car is precious!

So I gave up the struggle yesterday because even though the old ones stay on my face, I don’t see as well as I should and I can’t read with them so there’s that. If I can’t read, well, it’s not a happy thing. Me without a book is like a day without sunshine. (That is a pathetic analogy but I’m getting there too)

Today I’m driving out to the optometrist to get the glasses fixed. I invariably get lost going there so I brought in Stephanie and got her ready. (Stephanie is my GPS, as in “No, Stephanie, you bitch, I will NOT take a right, so recalculate now!) (Don’t judge) My appointment is at 4:30. I have a faculty meeting at 3:30 that better not last long because I’m planning on giving myself ample time to get lost, even with Stephanie yelling at me to turn right. Has she not figured out that you have to yell DEBIT or CREDIT at me? Geesh

There’s been a slow leak in our propane tank for a couple months. Nothing serious but damned if I’m paying for that stuff and having it leak out. So the company was called and an appointment was made to fix it. For 8:00 am. This morning. We were ready for Maverick to be a barking fool, he doesn’t like it when people come on his property.

The guy showed up at 6:30. SIx effin thirty. This morning. And the barking commenced. It would stop for a bit, then start again. Each time it stopped, I nodded off. Each time it started, Bear yelled. (I’ve told him that yelling is the equivalent of barking and Maverick thinks he’s just joining in, but men don’t listen to dog training tips because they don’t. And I don’t care if that’s sexist. It may be but it’s also true.) After about a half hour which seemed like 7 years, I got up. Maverick and I snuggled on the sofa awhile and then the barking started again. At this point, the guy needed to come into the house, I got a leash on Maverick and the wrestling match began.

He’s effin strong. (Sorry, Kristi, I’m tired) I had the leash in my left hand. Wrong move, that’s my weak side, so now I’m nursing a broken boob. Oh hush, I know you can’t break your boob. Well, I don’t think you can. There’s a muscle that I’m pretty sure is already either strained or torn and he made it worse – my fault, use the right hand, dumbass!

The good thing is he’s tired right out from 3 hours of the guy being here, and then a long walk at a windy park. The bad news is that I got 5 hours of sleep and I can’t nap, no time and it normally makes me feel wonky if I don’t sleep for more than a couple of hours.

I’m gonna sew hats and refrain from answering student emails today. I think that’s the best decision.

Also, and this is random, I’m sort of wondering if any of the people who thought Cuomo was doing such a great job with the pandemic still think that.

Every day, we’re hearing about how we should all get vaccinated against the Rona. ( I figured that we’ve been aquainted for long enough that I can call it the Rona now) I’m not convinced that these vaccines are actually all that safe, I keep thinking back to something called “thalidomide,” and how it was marketed as totally safe and a wonder drug for pregnant women. It caused children to be born with shortened limbs – when I was a kid and we were absolutely politically incorrect, they were known as “flipper babies.” It was never sold in the US but was given out as samples.

Maybe it’s not a good analogy, at least that’s what the MSM is telling me, but thalidomide was also rushed onto the market without adequate testing and the results were not great.

All of that aside, yesterday I read a long article that detailed “What can you do after being vaccinated?” Well, from that article, seems like you won’t be able to do anything you can’t do now. It warned that you can’t eat in a restaurant, you shouldn’t gather with friends, you still need to wear a mask and socially distance (umm, can we say “physically” because we’re already socially distant, dammit) and you have to wash your hands every time you touch any surface at all. Sooooooooooooooo…………this is where I get confused.

I’m supposed to allow someone to put something into my body that isn’t going to change a damned thing? I might still get the Rona? I’m totally shaking my head and wondering if I’m living in the Twilight Zone.

Maverick’s groomer is a lovely lady who can make a plan to become a millionaire at the drop of a hat, and abandon that plan with little notice soon after. Her latest is selling dog clothes. Apparently there are people (some of whom read this blog and therefore I’ll be kind) who like to dress up their dogs. (Poor Max, I do feel bad for you even though Maverick seems to consider you a snack sized morsel)

So she’s making dog coats and selling them like crazy. Last year I made a dog dress for a friend who had gotten a pug puppy. (Yes, another snack sized morsel) M suggested I make one and put it up beside her coats because she knows we can sell a ton of them. What the heck, I only have 7000 other projects started, so why not? Said dress is now sitting in the kitchen, awaiting delivery.

It wasn’t quite finished, hence the clips at the top

And then I saw baseball caps for dogs. The search was on till I found a pattern, which I’ve adapted because I don’t like the way they put it together and I’m never satisfied doing things the way someone else says I should.

Ignore the background, my craft room is a holy mess but I get things done there.

Maverick refuses to model either of these lovely garments. I don’t know where I’ve gone wrong with him.

At any rate, being sick of politics and the Rona, here are some sillies to make you smile.

I spent most of my life in academia. I went to college at the ripe old age of 17, graduated with a useless degree – unless I wanted to teach, which would have required grad school, and since I had been told all my life I was going to be a teacher just like my oldest sister, there was no way in Hell I was going that. I had grown up in a working class family with fairly middle of the road values, I wouldn’t have called my parents either liberal or conservative, they were just people who did the best they could for their family, their friends and their community. To this day I have no idea how they voted.

But I was a child of the 60’s, growing up near Woodstock, NY and fully embracing liberal values of free love, sex, drugs and rock and roll. Stuff your labels, I’m a person, treat me like an equal and not someone lesser (or better) because of my skin color or my sex. We HATED labels. College solidified these ideas for me, and working in a factory didn’t change them. I wanted the women in that sewing mill to unionize, rise up, fight against the men who held them down at home and at work. I wanted them to fight – never thinking that they had mouths to feed and bills to pay and couldn’t afford to lose their jobs for an ideal. Never mind that they most likely didn’t have the energy.

My second and third degrees solidified my isolation from the “real world.” Don’t think for a second that academia is not an isolated island in the midst of reality. As a professor, I can pretty easily tell which of my colleagues went straight into teaching and which ones worked in any other field.

Then I met the Bear. He was working at Harley Davidson, introduced me to his friends and watched as my head reeled from the culture shock. I’ve written about that before, and it’s relevant because I learned a lot from talking and listening to a group of people whose experience of life was so far different from mine.

I would hear them say, “Did you hear Rush today?” quite often. I had heard OF Rush Limbaugh, but never actually listened to his show. In my world, he was a far right nut case, someone to be derided and ignored except when he was saying something that might actually be considered dangerous to my world view.

I admit that I investigated this man only because I don’t like not knowing what people around me are talking about. I hate to feel uneducated or in the dark. So on one of my random rides around the area, because I was still trying to find my way around – and I didn’t have a GPS in those days so it was interesting at times, but that’s another story – I turned on talk radio. I listened with an open mind, as much as I could, because hey, this was Rush, the guy who had DittoHeads as fans and seriously? But I tried. And after a week or so, the strangest thing happened. The guy started making sense.

I didn’t always agree with him. His “feminazis” comments would set my teeth on edge, but there was something there. He had facts to back up his statements. He actually answered questions. And I started to respect him.

I learned today that he passed away. He was beloved by Conservatives and hated by Liberals. I expect the twitter-verse to be filled with glee at his passing, because the party of unity and all.

That’s the saddest part of all