I had enough mango butter for yesterday's two batches of soap (Intense Almond and Bergamot Chamomile), but now I have crumbs, which is derailing my "make lots and lots of soap OMG RIGHT NOW!!!!" desire. So I had to sit down and do math and figure out just how many soap batches I get from each pail of oil, in the amounts I usually order.
- Hydrogenated Soybean Oil, 10 lbs: 10 batches
- Palm Kernel Oil, 5 lbs: 12.5 batches
- Coconut Oil, 5 lbs: 12.5 batches
- Mango Butter, 1 lb: 10 batches
- Shea Butter...is non-relevant right now, because I got a deal on a 5 lb pail a while back, and that gives me like 50 batches.
I did the math today on what I need to finish out the 19 soaps and still have leftovers, as well as get more lip balm supplies (mainly tubes, some flavors). It came close to $200 before shipping and tax were figured. I have $100 coming from my mom, and I have about $40 in my Paypal, so I may need to adjust quantities to get what I need at a price I can afford.
(sigh) I need local friends. Easier to keep track of them.
They're not here yet. I'm supposed to have my personal study at 12:30. If pest control isn't here by 12, I need to call Kim and see if she'd mind having it over here instead.
Thing is, though, I sprayed flea and tick spray under the sink and haven't seen any ants since.
In other news, we bought a new Tracfone yesterday so as to have phone contact while we're out of town at the distric convention this weekend. I used up 4 of the prepaid minutes trying to get the voice mail set up. Their online tech support sucks. All their "troubleshooting" thingie for the voicemail just takes you back to the "How to setup voicemail" stage. After finally getting through to a real live person there, he has me try what I've already tried FOUR TIMES. Finally he tells me the voicemail server is down and I should get a call, a text message or an e-mail when it's back up. Grrr. I want my four minutes back.
You know that Dove commercial, the one with the slender redhead, the two pregnant women, the BBW, and the older woman, all in their underwear? Where the song in the background goes, "What if we loved our skin?" etc? Well, it was on the other day as our roommate came out of his room. He groaned and commented, "I hate this commercial. I don't want to see that!" I just looked at him funny. He went on to say, "There's only one on there even halfway worth looking at." He was referring to the slender redhead.
Now, Chris is no specimen himself. If you looked up "skinny white boy" in the dictionary, you'd see his picture. He's pencil-thin, pale, and bald as a chihuahua. I think he missed the point of the commercial. One, it's not aimed at men. It's aimed at women, making them appreciate their own bodies. Two, not every woman is model perfect. Look at me. I'm 5'6" and 235 pounds...and I was standing right next to him as he made that comment. Obviously, someone wanted to see me in my underwear, as I'm married and have a rather healthy sex life.
The last image on the commercial is a web address, www.campaignforrealbeauty.com. If you go to that website, you'll see that Dove is collecting pictures of real women that someone thinks is beautiful. The blurb says: Be part of the worldwide effort to show a new, wider definition of beauty by sharing a photo of a female you personally know and that you would consider beautiful. Dove's goal is to collect one million photos. Every photo collected will support a donation to the Dove Self-Esteem Fund.
I went to the website. I looked at the photos. And more often than not, the photos I saw were of women NOT model-thin. They were REAL women. And as the title of an indie film stated, real women have curves. We are not sticks with boobs. Dove's working to redefine beauty through self-esteem. And I'm all for that.
My husband thinks I'm beautiful. Yes, I'm dieting and exercising to lose weight, but it's to be healthy. Not to reinforce society's standards of beauty. Chris can go soak his head as he looks for a stick with boobs.
And I still have two loads of laundry to fold, iron and put away. Laundry is the suckiest bit of the housewife gig. It's a freakin' never-ending cycle. Why haven't they made self-cleaning clothes yet?
And another thing: getting up at eight, taking meds at nine, then crashing from 10 to 2 is NOT a productive day, and it doesn't help the fatigue at all. On the plus side, though, the nausea seems to be abating...I actually baked today. Cranberry muffins. They came out a little salty, though.
Then there was the dream that Matt and I went to BotCon this year. We met up with Ellen, and this guy Alex she knew from online. I didn't know they were more than friends, but Matt did. When I found that out, I was a little miffed she didn't tell me she was dating someone. There was also something dealing with fake teeth, sort of. For some reason, I'd put on tooth overlays, like acrylic nails, but they weren't holding up well, so I had to go into the bathroom and pop them off so I could brush off the residue. Also in the dream, I got to meet David Willis, who writes/draws Roomies, It's Walky!, and Shortpacked. But a main part of the dream was that Matt and I slept in, or lounged around in bed for a good portion of the morning, missing about half the day's worth of the convention, which didn't sit well with me, but all my teasing and cajoling wouldn't get him out of the bed earlier.
All in all, I think I'm glad I'm awake, and I hope I actually get some pleasant, restful dreams tonight.
Now, I know I'm not the greatest thing since sliced bread, and I don't expect every review to be sycophantly praising me to the ends of the earth, but...."meh?" Not only "meh," but "you can do better," and "it's been done before." I think it's the last one that bothers me most. The fact that I did something I was proud of and "it's been done to death."
On the one hand, it upsets me to the point that I want to yank the ficlet from ff.n and hide it from the world for the rest of time. On the other hand...another point the reviewer brought up was that it seemed "out of character." The thing is, though, I'd had a few flashes of things before writing it that put it in character for me. And those are the things I'd said in the author's note I wasn't going to write, but the evil little demon who sits on my shoulder and whispers bad things in my ear (aka my angst demon muse) is rubbing his gnarled little hands in glee, whispering, "See, see! I'm not the only one who wants you to write out that story. You NEED to, in order to put the ficlet in perspective! SHOW Kira's pain at Tommy getting married! Show exactly how she was wronged! Oh, and add in that bit I told you about, about..." (here I cut him off, in case I DO write it, so all the secrets aren't given away here)
Like that little horndog of an angst demon needs more fodder to prey on.
I think what bothers me most is I sent it first to a friend I trusted to be honest about it, and as far as I could tell, she liked it. But an anonymous stranger thought it was "meh." So I wonder how honest she was being, or if she was just being nice.
And yes, there's always the possibility that the anonymous reviewer was just a jerk. But...
Like I said, it SHOULD'T bother me. But it does.
Then it hits me. Oh, yeah. Summer vacation. Dangit.
It hit me today at the library, as I was trying to keep my ears from bleeding from all the high-pitched shrieks in the tiny building. Gyah. As I tried to keep from tripping over all the tiny, fast-moving bodies that seemed to think a library was the same thing as a gymnasium.
I miss the libraries of my youth, where it was QUIET. When did parents stop teaching kids that libraries are places to be quiet and well-behaved? That people were trying to read, to study. These same children probably run screaming through the sanctuary on Sundays, too. No, I forgot. Churches have kiddie-prisons. The parents can lock their kids away in the nursery, where only one or two adults get to go insane from all the screaming.
Sometimes I think all public buildings should have "adults-only" time. If pools can have "adult swim," why not an "adult browse" at the library? An hour or two a day where you can only come in if you're over eighteen.
I respect the population's right to have screaming, misbehaving little monsters. Why can't they respect my right to want nothing to do with them?
I was planning on cleaning the kitchen tonight after I came home from getting cat food. Instead, I walked in and....he'd cleaned. The kitchen. The living room. The dining room (sort of). I kind of freaked, whispered a stunned "Thank you," and barricaded myself in the bedroom.
Matt had cleaned the living room yesterday, just testing my limits of comfort. But Chris...he just sort of removed EVERYTHING to the point where it looks like a hotel room, and I start to shake and have nervous breakdown.
If you've seen Benny and Joon, and remember the scene where Sam's cleaning and Joon freaks out? Kinda like that.
Clean is NOT NATURAL. Hospital-sanitary is not normal in a house with three people and three cats. It makes me queasy, makes me want to throw things. Makes me feel....like crying, like I don't belong there, that they're just tolerating me and soon they're going to break and ask me to leave, that they can't stand me there, that I'm useless, not doing anything to help, too much of a hassle.
This is my apartment, too. My name's on the lease. Why won't anyone listen to me?
Today at 3pm eastern time, Scylla, the server I'm on in Star Wars Galaxies, gets taken down for upgrades related to the upcoming combat upgrade (cu). It'll be down until 9 am tomorrow.
My roommates used to be all for the cu, until they started reading more about it. Now it seems like SOE is just turning the game into "EQ2 in a galaxy far, far away." A lot of people are pissed. Including my category of player, the crafters. Leveling is now going to be based on combat skill. I'm a Master Artisan, Master Merchant, 3-3-3-2 Chef, Novice Dancer, 0-0-4-4 Entertainer, and a Novice Armorsmith (just picked that up last night). I have no combat professions. That means I'll be a level one character when the cu goes live. That means, when I go out to survey for resources and harvest resources, I'll be a sitting duck for any hostile critters out there in the wilderness.
Apparently SOE's responce to people's criticisms is, "Well, this means you'll have to group." Great. I mean, okay, so my husband's chara is a Master Rifleman, Master Scout, and a few other combat profs, so yeah, he could come with me when I go surveying. Except for one really big thing: I like to play when he's at work! Oh, and the fact that it's incredibly boring playing bodyguard for a surveyor. I present to you this proof. Scroll down to Gabe's comments ("The Wizow"). Sure, it's WOW and not SWG, but same idea.
So, I don't know if the cu's gonna be live when I log in tomorrow at 10, or if it's still going to be May 5th, but today? Today, I am grinding out armor to beat the band. Now if only I had the credits to train. Too bad both hubby and roommate are at work until after 3. Ah well.
I am an ice cream snob. Ever since discovering "premium" ice cream, I can't really enjoy the grainy, air-filled "cheap" ice cream that's $2 a half gallon. Premium ice cream is just so much better. And the frozen custard at Goodberry's? Dreamy. Even their no-sugar added custard is creamy and rich. So add that to the small list of splenda-sweetened items I like (lite custard and 7-Up Plus...oooh, sounds like a float to me!).
So anyway, she pissed me off. I had to explain to her, AGAIN, that I don't give a flying fuck about PS2s and games for said machines.
I got home, and Matt called from work. I ranted at him a little bit, and he calmed me down. Told me to never let myself feel put down by her, because he makes a third of what her husband makes, yet we can afford to go out to eat and they can't. So there's something of a money management problem there.
I love my husband. (big hugs) I just wish now he could find a job he's happy at. Car sales are slow, and he hates it. I have a lead I'm following today for myself. Won't be anywhere near enough for him to be able to stop working, but it will give us entertainment money.
So if anyone, ANYONE, knows what fic I'm thinking of, could you PLEASE send me a link? I'll be forever grateful.
We got to the house where the gathering was. I was still failry excited about this. Then we went inside.
Oh, no. Waaay too many people, waaaaay too loud, too much crowd noise. I started to get queasy and had to almost run outside, back to the Jeep.
As I sat there, looking up at the full moon and stars, I thought about how easy it would be to slip back into old routines, to beseech the goddess rather than praying to Jehovah for strength. I made a conscious effort to direct my prayers to Jehovah, instead.
A lot of times, I feel like I'm letting Matt down because of my dislike of crowds. It's like, we can't go to parties because I freak out and have to leave. I don't know what it is, but I'm not comfortable around more than 10 people. Tuesday night book study hurts me, because it's about 20 people in a tiny room. I prefer Saturday morning book study because it's at the Kingdom Hall, and therefore people can spread out a little more.
Some days I just want to stay inside my nice safe apartment. Sigh.
But on the up side, I'm not pregnant.
But on the other hand, I wasn't happy there. Not just "Oh, I don't want to go to work today" not happy, but breaking down crying in the bathroom, getting sick not happy. From the moment I entered the store this morning, all I could think about was how much I didn't want to be there, how much I hated retail, how lousy I was at it, and I even admitted to the GM that I was terrified of actually going on the floor and selling. I just wanted to leave. At one point, I was thinking, "I would rather be doing food service than this." That's how bad it was.
Part of the problem is that, I was retail for four years after graduating college. I hated every minute, but copy center work was sort of close to what I was degreed in, so I could live with it. I know nothing about menswear. And you know what? I really don't want to know more about it than what I need to tell my husband he looks good. I don't want to deal with picky, difficult customers. I don't want to measure men, have my hands on their waitbands and rears to make sure their pants fit right. I don't want to "upsell." I HATE people, hate selling, and I'd much rather be a housewife.
And I think I'm going to start crying again if I keep thinking about it, so I'm going to stop, and maybe go take a nap.
And I'm now sort-of a housewife. IE, husband is working, I'm not. Which means he expects me to be trying to keep the house neat. I've tried explaining to him that such things do not come naturally to me. It doesn't occur to me to clean. I've had dishes sit waiting to be washed so long that they've formed their own ecosystems. But I'm married now. And husband isn't as fond of disorganization and clutter as I am. So I have to try to remember to clean, to put things away, to do something other than play on the computer all day, and while working out is a good thing, I can't use that as an excuse for why I didn't clean.
I hate cleaning. Clean houses make me nervous. I NEED clutter to feel like I belong there.
Plus since he's working on Saturdays now, I have to go to book study by myself. I'm so tempted to skip it. I don't want to go by myself. It might be easier to slip out unnoticed, though. I don't like talking to people. Eh, I have to go out anyway to get milk and eggs. (sigh)
So does anyone know why my computer shuts off and screams at me, and what to do about it?
Then, I was supposed to go to meeting tonight (for those of you who don't know, I'm studying with the Jehovah's Witnesses). I felt like crap, so no go. Didn't want to stay here, either, so I got my shit together and went down to the gym. Set the tv to CSI, got on the bike, started pedaling. No one else was there. It was perfect. Then, not even five minutes there, someone else showed up. Okay, no big. She was on the treadmill, wasn't giving me no never-mind, okay. I can deal with this. Ten minutes after that, a frickin FAMILY shows up, with a three-year-old who likes to play on the treadmill. No frickin way. I don't care for kids, and when I'm in a crappy mood, I don't want to be around them. So, I finished up the pattern on the bike. By then, treadmill girl was onto some of the weight training machines. I found the pec fly machine, did a few reps, then had to leave. Just too many people in too small a space.
Thought about going for a walk, but didn't really want to. Thought about visiting my other friends in the complex, but they too have children, and I've seen enough of their kids this week. So, back to the apartment, where I tried my recipe for relaxation:
-water so hot I almost can't sit in it
-ice water to drink
-loud music. Tonight, Evanescence
Soaked for nearly the whole cd, then rinsed off. Still feeling craptacular, but at least I got some exercise and got clean.