New Digs

So here we are, a week out of total chaos. Things are settling down, less and less boxes around me every day. Beautiful mornings spent journal writing in the aptly named sun room. Awake at 6 every morning due to sunshine pouring over my face. Time spent on the comfy new couch laughing at nothing and watching the silly cat that eats potato chips. Morning walks to the village to get coffee, or over to the farmers market to get yummy food. Going piss is great, a sky light and surrounded by plants, who could ask for more when you are sitting on the toliet. So much room I am not really sure what to do with it all. Though I think I have done a pretty good job at filling it so far. So much light for a place with no windows (though it does come with it's fair share of skylights, just about every where). Showers are best taken in mid afternoon, when the sun shines through the glass blocks in the wall. Sitting in the den you can almost see all the way to downtown, lots of tiny lights at night. Sunsets from the deck are something eles. Kitchen is big, with very little cupboard space, but hey that is what the pantry room is for. Oh yeah...the 4 minute walk to work ain't half bad either.
So far the only thing I don't like is the large amount of enormous spiders that apear to live here with me. Good thing my cats like to chase and eat them.
Spent the whole weekend with the couz, doing nothing and yet acomplishing a hell of alot. Books are all out (found another mom journal). Living room is livable, kitchen is up and running, den is comfy and usefull. You can also now move around the dining room.
Living here is good. An apartment of my dreams really...

I'm gorgeous today...

There comes a moment in every curly haired woman's life when she cuts her hair really short and loves it. She thinks that she might not ever go back to the long locks. There is just so much you can do with short hair. Granted, you can't braid it or tie it up in bun, but you can use all those nifty hair toys they sell at pharmacies. You get to the point, as you are growing it out, where you can't do anything at all with it but keep it tied back. You can't braid it yet, but no longer are those nifty hair toys enough to hold it all in, out, and up. They are just not strong enough. It also look really dumb when it is simply down. The curls will not behave. You despair. You seriously consider not growing it out this time, perhaps you will cut it off. You can look cute with hair sticking out every which way in a funky do (you can only really pull of pig tails with short hair) It has been so long since the long hair experience that you forget what it is like, and right now the short hair seems so much preferable to the "do nothing with" do that you are currently suffering under. You just really want to cut it all off.
Then one day it happens. You get out of bed one morning and while sitting on the toilet and singing you turn your head and you get a face full of hair. You can actually stick your face in your hair and smell it. I can not adequately explain this experience to someone who does not have long curly hair. You really have to experience it for yourself. And no, sticking you face in someone else long curly hair isn't quite the same as doing it with your own.
Perhaps a week later you discover to your dismay that you can put it up in a bun. True, at this point it is not long enough to stay up by itself, but you can see that light at the end of the tunnel in the near future. One day soon your hair will stay up entirely of it own volition.
Then the clincher happens. The event that makes you seriously question why you cut it all off in the first place. You've washed your hair, put some type of curl junk in it that morning and you have had it up in a bun all day. Your home, on the computer, or perhaps you are watching TV. You get up, go into the bathroom and take the hair tie out. Down come the long perfectly soft curls. They sweep your shoulders and surround your face. It's like looking at a long lost friend. You see a part of you in the mirror you haven't seen in awhile. It just feels like more you for some reason. The goddess with the long curly hair. You can't stop touching it, throwing it into your face, or over your shoulder. You take you hands and pull all of those long curls into your face and repeatedly feel it on your checks. You take deep breaths of it's smell.
You vow never to cut off your hair ever again...

Crime Scene Musings

(warning: this post contains graphic discussion of menstrual blood. If you don't want to hear about menstrual blood, first off shame on you, and secondly move on down the page for discussions on other less controversial topics)
Ok, after watching way to much CSI yesterday I have one burning question.
When they test for blood in the many ways they test for blood HOW do they know that it is not menstrual blood. I mean with fresh blood or splatter they can test for uterine or vaginal epithelials, but is that routine procedure when testing blood???
What if I went away for a few days, and somebody(for some really silly reason) reported me missing. What if there were blood droplets found in the bathroom, or on the bed. Would they test them for uterine tissues??? Would they think that I had been murdered?
And what about those "hidden" blood moments, when they spray that nifty stuff on a clean wall to reveal the presence of human blood? How do they know it's not menstrual blood.
Ok, I know your all saying that menstrual blood doesn't get on walls, and in most cases I would agree with ya. I mean blood splatter on the ceiling is really not likely to be menstrual blood.
But let me tell ya, if a CSI team came into my bedroom and sprayed my bed and bedding, or sprayed in most places in my bathroom, there would be human blood EVERYWHERE!!! My god there was a murder committed here at some point they would say. I get blood on my sheets, blankets, underwear, clothes, the floor. I like my blood, I think it's pretty nifty. I am not as afraid of it as most people(women and men). I don't really care if I bleed on my bedding, and I don't really considered a new pair of underwear really mine until is has some blood stains on it.
So, really, how do they know???

Packing

If I am going to spend two weeks packing up every single thing that I own into little boxes I feel as though I should be getting something big out of it. It seems rather silly to do all this and then proceed to move all those boxes roughly ten blocks and spend two weeks unpacking everything again. I feel I should be embarking on a great journey. The hunter/gather in me says that I should take just enough that I can carry on my back, hide everything else and set out into the great unknown. The ancestral part of my brain is telling me that modern humans are very silly and really do have it all wrong. My inner Taurus on the other hand is having a hard time letting things go, where as my husband has been know to mutter under his breath something about "just burning the house down" on occasion.
I would also settle for a nice willow wand with a core of dragon scale that I could wave and yell convasoito. This would result in everything magically packing itself and moving to the other house instantaneously. That would be an acceptable alternative to packing.