Dirt and Tulle

August 24th, still-dark-in-the-morning, the day I leave for Burning Man... Yep, this seems like the perfect time to recap July's challenge and talk to you about August's.

0.o

(That's my most favorite emoticon, by the way.  I challenge you to try to make that face in real life.)

What can I say?  The month got away from me.  Between work and friends and summer and strange (strange but attractive) people living in my house, I have been busier than a one-legged woman in an ass-kicking contest and between me, you and the fencepost, I have got to find better ways to manage my time.  Or I just need to learn to say "No!"  I cram my life, nearly every day, with 47 things to do.  I have lost the ability to just ... be; to have "Heather Time."  When I'm not at work, I MUST DO ALL THE THINGS AND SEE ALL THE PEOPLE!  Basically I cram my life so full of "busyness" that I leave no time for "stillness".  And let me tell you, folks, I am feeling the effects of that.  In my brain.  I feel like I'm losing myself in the shuffle of my life.  I am always going and rarely stopping to, I dunno, smell the fucking roses or something.  I can wax philosophical about this and get all self-analytical, which I would genuinely like to do in another post, but for now...

I'M GOING TO BURNING MAN IN MERE HOURS, PEOPLE!  Hours!  Today is the day!  I am packed, organized and I want to leave right now.  I've spent all week preparing for this most epic trip:

"What are you up to?"
"Oh, not much, just trying on weird shit for Burning Man."

This fedora?  Yeah, it is made of sequins, it lights up and flashes.  I want to wear it every day.  But only with the goggles on as well.  Obv.

A few days ago my living room looked like this:

Yes, that is a pile of tulle, why do you ask?

And now it looks like this:

Them motherfuckers is ZIPPED!

If you can't tell, I'm ridiculously excited about this trip. I honestly have no idea what to expect.  I'm a bit concerned about this whole "sudden dust storm" business, but I'm already picturing the worst environment imaginable, expecting the worst, and I'm still smiling like a goon.  I long for the experiences in life --whether they be good or bad -- and even if I'm dirty and gross and eating dirt every day, I'm going to be with a phenomenal group of people and I look forward to eating dirt with them.  At Burning Man.  'Cause that's where I'm going, Burning Man.  Burning. Man.  Man of Burning.

SQUEEE!

Ok, ok... challenges.  July was no swearing and work out every day.  I believe I made it three days without swearing at all, and those were not consecutive days.  It was much more difficult than I had anticipated.  I did exercise every day though, so yay me.  I succeeded with a challenge.

This month is "no caffeine", which I quickly edited to "no coffee, Red Bull, or soda, but I can still drink tea and chew Midol by the fistful."  It's going pretty well.  I've had a half a cup of coffee a few times, but once again, I accomplished what I wanted to when I started the challenge, which was to break the habit -- the *need* for a cup of coffee to start the day.

I was also going to do this whole thing about how I need to find ways to be more positive, blah, blah, yadda, yadda, but yeah ... I didn't have time for that shit.  Who has time to think about being positive?  Get a hobby, people.

I have so much more I want to write and I wish I would have found the time to do so over the course of the month, but alas ... I must go to BURNING MAN!

Maybe next month should be "Do Less Stuff" and then I could blog more about ... doing ... nothing.

Meh.  It'll never happen.

Chaff

I love this challenge.  I love the shit out this challenge.  It's so cathartic and eye-opening and fun and other adjectives to go through drawers, closets, BASKETS, more drawers and closets, getting rid of the chaff.  Fuck you, chaff.

Chaff.

I had a 13" DVD/VHS TV collecting dust in my closet -- GONE.  I had 10's of VHS tapes sitting around in a box -- GONE.  I had an alarm clock that hadn't alerted anyone about anything in years -- GONE.  I had a stupid little Ikea lamp (I do not love lamp)  I couldn't find a regular-ass light bulb for -- GONE.  Gone baby, gone.

Farewell uncomfortable and/or ugly shoes.  You no longer have a place here.

Why you hurt my feet?

As luck would have it, getting rid of ugly/uncomfortable shoes provided extra storage space for important things like tutus and animal ears.

Burning Man, 2012!  It's on like Donkey Kong.
...
I've never really understood that expression. 
"A phrase to denote that it's time to throw down or compete at a high level; something is about to go down."
Thank you, Urban Dictionary (.com)

What else?  Military uniforms and combat boots galore.  Shipped off.  Not going to lie, those were toughies.  As we all have a tendency to look at the past through rose colored glasses, I have nothing but fond memories of my years in the Air Force.  I know there were some shitty times (there's a reason I got out, after all), but I don't remember what those shitty times entailed.  Still, it was time to let go.  Hanging on to a bunch of old clothes I'm never going to wear again is a bit silly.  I still have the memories, as well as plenty of other military-related paraphernalia hanging about.

My uncle, Johnny, is now the proud owner of the murder-death-kill cold weather parka and the rest went to the thrift store on Ft. Myer.

I did hang on to a couple of things...

I got something southerly you can watch.
(that's a terrible joke)

I had the pack made when I was in Saudi Arabia.  You gave them a BDU (that's "battle dress uniform", civilians) shirt and probably way too much money and they gave you an adorable pack in return.  That I've never used.  Ever.  Not even once.  But it sure does take up space nicely.  The desert boots still fit, are very comfortable and I can see them being useful in some sort of outdoor endeavor.  The green camo on the left (can you see it?) are Gortex pants, which I decided to pass off to the thrift store; someone will surely get more use out of them than I will.

Hooah, Air Force!

Progress, folks.  So much progress.

(Love this challenge!)

No High Fructose Corn Syrup!

As promised in that last post, our creation...

First, supplies.

Lubrication.  And lettuce.

IMPORTED FROM SPAIN!

You might not think we need Ketchup to make a Tater Tot man,
but you would be WRONG.

Tutus:  a necessity.

S'mores cupcakes.
WE MUST BE PREPARED FOR EVERY CONTINGENCY!
(I just spelled "contingency" correctly and I'm drunk.
Don't hate.)

Supplies?  Check.
Fabulous girlfriends?  Check.
Oh, fuck stick.  Most important ingredients:

The man himself and his clothing.  Durr.

And this is why we need ketchup.

Ok, now ingredients are gathered, tots are cooked, lubrication is ... lubricating, time for assembly.

This picture is aptly named:  "assembly.jpg"

Just twinin'.

So there's absolutely no confusion about what we're doing here.
Also, "My bologna vest has a first name, it's N-A-T-H-A-N..."

It's important that Mal has a meatball bullet-shooting gun.
Pretty much goes without saying, really.

There was much giggling and an addition (and removal) of meatball "balls", which my girls found inappropriate, much to my consternation.  But, alas, I present to you NATER-TATER:

This is like, really good.

The moral of the story here?  The Bloggess is a treasure, tater tots are delicious, wine is happiness, my friends are wonderfully fun and silly and I feel incredibly lucky and blessed to have them (Drunk Heather = I LOVE EVERYONE Heather), Nathan Fillion (urg) needs to fondle some damn twine already, and most important of all, absolutely everyone needs a tutu.

Storage is complicated.

And, perhaps, a picture of themselves awkwardly holding twine:

Awwwwkward. 
Or:  Why am I still single?

Tater Tots and Tutus

If you read my blog, you probably read other blogs, yeah?  You're not a one-blog-at-a-time reader/girl/guy/girl-guy/robot/zombie are you?  Well, if you don't read The Bloggess' blog, you should.  Go check it out.  I'll wait right here.

You back yet?

You're not going to going to go to The Google and search for it are you?  Lame.  Fine, BAM.  Made it easy for you.  She is delightfully insane and a complete joy to read.  Most of the time.  Sometimes she gets down into The Shit, which honestly, only makes me love her more.  Life ain't all sunshine and twine, folks; it's important to keep things real, ya'll.

(I should add, I am drinking wine wine right now.  Lots of wine.  Wine tastes good.)

(Your face tastes good.)

Why am I talking to you about The Bloggess (and wine) and not meditation?  Simple:  MEDITATING IS HARD AND I HATE IT.  But also, Ms. Bloggess inspired us to Make Things and Be Creative and I want to share said creation with you.  There is a story behind the creation, but I know you won't take the time to read it.  So, here's a recap, you lazy monkeys:

1.  The Bloggess asks Nathan Fillion (sigh) to take a picture of himself holding twine.  (There's a whole story behind that too, mostly involving silliness, but it's too much to type.  STOP BEING LAZY AND CLICK ON THE LINK.)
2.  Nathan Fillion (swoon) completely ignores The Bloggess.
3.  The Bloggess reaches out to her Twitter followers to entice (harass?) Fillion (OMGswoon) to take the damn picture already!
4.  *crickets*
5.  Other famous people chime in and send TB pictures of themselves holding twine and then ... spatulas (I already mentioned the "delightfully insane" bit of all of this, yeah?)

(Side note:  my love of Wil Wheaton knows no bounds and that man deserves an entire post of his very own, which I will likely write some day because I luff him.  LUFF!  Not only is he a Champion of all things Nerdy, Geeky, and Awesome, he's also --and I'm basing this solely on what I have read on his blog/Twitter -- a genuinely decent human being.  And he's pretty cute.  And he totes has an awesome relationship with his sons, which is a beautiful thing to read about.  And!  (No wait, there's more!)  When she asked, he sent The Bloggess a picture of himself collating paper.  Just because.  Listen to Wil, and DON'T BE A DICK, people!)

This made my Comic-Con.

(End of side note)

6.  Still with the *crickets*
7.  Suddenly and inexplicably, TB starts referring to Nathan Fillion (want) as "Nater-Tater", which in turn inspired my curly-haired gal pal, Colleen, to suggest that we make a Nater-Tater out of tater tots (genius!), throw some twine in there, and send it to TB because ... well, fuck it, whatever.  Why not?  We're special.

So that's what we did. 

This picture doesn't help you at all, does it?
Mwaaa-ha-ha!

This post is just the build-up.  Nater-Tater up next!

Blame the Tutus

Day 3 of Meditation Month and I forgot to motherfrakking meditate.  (Bad Heather!  Bad Heather!  No cupcakes for me!)  I even had a conversation about it with one of my friends last night:

Friend:  Have you meditated today?
Me:  Nope.  (gulps wine from glass)

Ok, so it wasn't a long, meaningful conversation, but ... shit.  I forgot already?!  I considered lying about it (or simply not mentioning it at all since I don't post every day), but that seemed silly since 1 - none of you gives two shits if I actually mediate, and 2 - I'd only be lying to myself and ... I already know.

Also, I am the WORST LIAR EVER.  Evidence:  I got a polygraph a few years ago and my polygrapher(?) instructed me to purposefully lie on a few questions so he could get a baseline read before getting to the meaty questions.  Mid-way through the polygraph, he calls a quality control person and they review my responses together. 

Dude on phone with QCer:  *laugher*  I know, right?  It's really something.  Yeah, mmm hmm.  I know!  *more laughter*  There's no ambiguation with this one.

Me:  WTF?  (said to myself)

Dude:  (hangs up phone)  Ms. Murnane, come take a look at this and you'll understand why we were laughing.

Here's what my graph looked like:

So that's why I can't lie about not meditating.  You would know.  As punishment for missing yesterday's session, I will tack on one day to the challenge. 

And really, I blame the tutus for my forgetfulness.

Everything is better with tutus.

My mind was focused on ... other things.  Details to follow.

Tulle

Saturday, Kristy and I drove to Harrisonburg to attend Ms. Lydia's 1st birthday party.  Penny, my 4-year-old niece and big sister of the birthday girl, greeted us at the door with, "Shh.  The baby is sleeping.  How about you take me to the park?  It's very close to my house."  How could we argue with such a polite request?

After five minutes of frustration, I am giving up making these pictures align side by side.

With such a happy face, does it really matter how they line up anyway?

The birthday girl woke from her nap just in time to enjoy the party ... and a hummus-dipped cucumber.

HUMMUS FACE!

Andrea, Babysitter Extraordinaire, gifted Lyds with a rather fabulous tutu (hat?).

"Mr. Carson, do have more tea."