Crabby Abi's Blabbing

Archive for August, 2008

Here are the pictures of EmaLee’s bag. I love the blue!!

This past week we learned how to make tote bags in our sewing mini enrichment class. I was surprised at how simple a plain, unlined bag was to make. I was also motivated enough to figure out how to make one lined.

I invited EmaLee and Lani over today to try and make one with me. We were going to have to figure it out as we went because none of us had done it before. Lani found a tutorial online and we got started.

Because of the Prop 8 canvasing, we didn’t get started until around 2 or 3 this afternoon. It took some time to get everything cut out because we had to keep rereading the directions and all the measuring and because there were three of us all taking turns.

The finished product was awesome! I wish I had thought to get pictures of EmaLee’s and Lani’s bags before the left. Maybe they’ll send me one (hint, hint) so i can post it. Here’s mine:

I hate shopping for new pants, especially since I got married and put on, almost literally, a ton of weight. Based on some of my postings I suppose it’s not hard to tell how THAT happened.

I’ve had the same jeans for the past 2 years. Four pair of them:

Pair #1: Too short and too big. I have to buy them long or else they fit into the “Noah” category. Noah built an ark – I buy my pants too short. We’re both getting ready for a flood. I also bought these ones a size bigger than the others so that just in case I got fatter I could still fit in something. I never got big enough to truly fit in these jeans (thank goodness) but I wear them anyway when the others are dirty.

Pair #2: Also too short but fit just fine. These ones look fine with a pair of flip-flops but with regular tennis-shoes they look ridiculous. There’s a line in a movie called Hard Ball that is fitting for my “too short” jeans. It went something like, “Why don’t you invite your pants down to your shoes so they can have a party?” Every time I put a pair of jeans on that’s too short that line goes through my head.

Pair #3: Also too short (they were seriously the only ones I could find at the time) but fit just fine. They also have these strange pockets on the back that used to snap shut. They got left a little too long in the washing machine once and the snaps stained the jeans with rust. One of the snaps fell off and the other one is bent beyond being usable. No idea how that happened?? I still wear them. I don’t really have a choice. And they do fit pretty well.

Pair #4: These jeans are long enough, almost too long, but too big. Whenever I wear them I look like I’m, as my mom would have put it in my teenage years, carrying a load in my pants. I don’t know how they got to be so big. They used to fit just fine. I even started putting them in the dryer (which I NEVER do with jeans) so that they would shrink down just a bit so I could wear them. They fit fine in the morning when I put them on, but by lunch I’m constantly pulling them up and wishing I had worn something else.

I’ve been putting up with these jeans for far too long. It wasn’t an issue until a couple of weeks ago when I took a new position at work that requires that I go out and check the production lines to quality check the product being made. I’m not going to wear nice clothes to do that. Not to mention the fact that a pair of nice dress pants looks pretty silly with a pair of sneakers. I’m not going to even apologize to anyone reading this who might dress that way. There’s nothing you can tell me that will convince me that sneakers worn with slacks is acceptable. Ug.

ANYWAY… I went to WalMart today to buy some new jeans. Ironically, WalMart is the only place in the entire country so far where I’ve been able to find pants that are (1) long enough and (2) not cut for someone with a waist the size of Texas and hips the size of New Hampshire. Don’t retailers know by now that women usually have smaller waists than hips? Or maybe it’s just me…

Gosh, again, ANYWAY… I pulled three pair from the rack, or stack, whatever. I pulled two in the size that I wanted to fit into (because they’re a size smaller than the ones I already do) and 1 pair that I thought was going to be the one I would have to buy. Then I wandered around looking at other things, putting off the inevitable encounter with the “fat mirror” that lives in every single dressing room in America. I finally went into the stall and tried on the slip I’d picked up. It fit. And there was no more time to put it off any longer. I grabbed the first pair of jeans and yanked. Or rather gently pulled. SERIOUSLY?! They totally fit! I was so shocked I just stood there contemplating whether to tell the crabby dressing-room-attendant to call 911 because I was surely hallucinating.

I waited for a couple of minutes, double checked the tag and when I was sure I was really seeing what I thought I was seeing, I took them off and pulled on the other pair. Surely this was just a fluke. HOLY SMOKES! TWO IN ONE DAY?! What are the chances?! I didn’t want to find out what the odds actually were. I quickly pulled them off and ran to the checkout, then out to my car, sped home and stuck them safely in the laundry hoping that they still fit when them come out.

I WENT DOWN A JEAN SIZE!!! WOOHOO!!!

(I know you can’t see me, but I’m jumping up and down!)

I love ice cream. Pretty much every kind of ice cream.

We recently obtained an ice cream maker – an electric one that mixes it for you. A word to the not-so-wise-like-me’s: Just because it’s electric, doesn’t mean there’s no work involved.

I decided I wanted to make some ice cream for our scripture group on Thursday night. I made sure I had all the ingredients and then went home and read the directions. I didn’t know I had to COOK it first. I had to heat the sugar, flour(?!), salt and milk in a saucepan until it thickened. Then I had to let it cool for 2 hours before I could mix in the cream and vanilla (I decided to go plain since our topic that night was pioneers; and yes I know that doesn’t make sense – like they really even had plain ice cream). It WAS the pioneer batch though… right?

I let it sit for 2 hours and then had the darn LOUD ice cream maker going during our discussion which was more than obnoxious since it’s so LOUD. In the end, however, it was well worth it. Even more so the next day.

YUMMY!!

I’ve been procrastinating this on purpose. Partly because I didn’t want to spoil it for EmaLee and Elizabeth and partly because I didn’t have words for how I felt about the way this story “ended.”

The short version of the way I feel about the ending is: I LOVED IT.

The longer version goes something like this…

First off, I agree that it could have been done in two books. It felt rushed and like there was so much that needed to be crammed into one “short” book. However, having read or heard her say somewhere that it was a fight with the publisher to be able to get a 4th book in the series, I can understand and tolerate the need to get all that was in there, in there.

Second, I wasn’t surprised by the pregnancy. I predicted that some time ago and new that the Volturi would come for the child. (Tangent: Volturi, Voldemort… close.) I didn’t fully understand why they would come for it but I new that they would.

Third, and I feel totally stupid for even saying this, but when Jacob imprinted on Nessie I was so shocked I had to stop reading to process. I should have seen that coming. It was so obvious and so in my face.

Shape shifters? Now’s a fine time…

I can’t say that I’m surprised by the amount of self control that Bella had once she was changed. That’s really been the only thing that she’s ever really had going for her. She new how to control her emotions, her appetites, her desires – all of it. I think that’s why nobody could get in. She had control over it all. It was said that becoming a vampire doesn’t change those things, it only makes them stronger. Plus the shield thing wasn’t too big a surprise because she was also always protective of those that she loved. She protected her mother all those years and took care of her. Then she moved in with Charlie and did the same for him. She cooked and cared for her dad to protect him from himself. Again, the vampire thing only made what she already had stronger. No surprise there.

I was surprised by the ending but not disappointed. I was surprised that there was no show down that ripped my heart out in the process. I’m proud of Ms. Meyer for having the courage to point out that violence isn’t always needed. To show that a battle against truth is a losing one. To prove that what is right cannot be disputed, argued, or changed. She showed that if people will only stop to listen, they will learn all they need to know before jumping to conclusions and prejudging someone based on possible false information.

I think that too often in this world people do just that – they jump to their own conclusions without getting the full story and have no idea what they’re talking about but are too stuck on the attention being given to them to shut their mouths before they’ve said or done too much. Sometimes it takes an army to stop them because by the time they’ve said all they’ve had to say, lots of people are involved and emotionally trapped in the moment. All that happens so fast. Just ask Irina.

I applaud the courage that it took to end the book with the way things should be.

I knew today was going to be tough pretty early. I’m sure we’ve all had days where we look back and think that it would have been better had we stayed in bed all day. Even if nothing was accomplished. Today has been like that. I should have known. There were plenty of signs. I’m wondering which one I should have taken the hint from…

Perhaps it was when I woke up late.

Or it could have been that I woke up feeling sick.

Maybe it was when nothing I had at home sounded good to eat for breakfast. I couldn’t even think about eating any of it. It made me want to hurl. And if you know anything about me, you know that a hungry Abi is a crabby Abi. The only thing that sounded good was a Peanut Butter Moo’d from Jamba Juice, without the peanut butter.

It could have been when I got to Jamba Juice and there was one of Oceanside’s finest leaning up against his squad car in the parking lot staring at the place. “Goin’ to Jamba Juice?” he asked me.

“Yep.”

“Good luck with that. I’ve been here for about 15 minutes and they’re not open yet. Strange too considering there’s a car here with a warm engine and the lights are on. The doors are locked though. Not sure what’s going on. Maybe if you go knock again someone will open the doors.”

So, of course, I knocked. Nothing else sounded even remotely like I could swallow it, let alone keep it down. No answer. I was already running late for work (hm, another clue?) so I left. The cop didn’t even budge.

The only other thing between me and work was Carl’s Jr. Yuk. No choice. Headache coming. Must stop. I pulled up to the microphone thing to order breakfast and nothing looked or sounded good. I ordered French toast sticks and hashbrowns with milk. “I don’t have no milk this morning. I have coffee, orange juice and soda.” (HUGE clue. I don’t do well without my milk.) I knew orange juice would immediately give me heartburn which would put me over this morning so I ordered a soda. Squirt. It’s close, right? Not when it’s nothing by SODA WATER. Ug!!

Maybe the last straw should have been when I burned my tongue on the first French toast stick and then about threw up the cold soda water I tried to put the fire out with.

Or maybe it was the stomach ache breakfast gave me.

All I know for sure at this point is that I should have paid closer attention to the signs and gone back to bed. The day isn’t over yet though so I’m still optimistic. Things could be worse. They could still get better.