02.28.07
Posted in Uncategorized, dogs, entertainment at 11:01 pm by wendy
Skype is free, unless you want to use it to call land lines, in which case it’s still really cheap, you just buy credit or sign up for their plan. It’s cheaper for us to use Skype for our long distance. With our digital phone service from Cox it costs nearly $2 a minute to talk to Madrid, which can be a major bummer.
We had Best Buy store credit, so I got a Logitech laptop specific headset that has great sound quality, but it isn’t wireless which is kind of a bummer. But if you have a Bluetooth headset for your cell you can use it with Skype.
But if you don’t have/want Bluetooth and are looking for a headset, there are tons out there. I’ve read that the headsets for gaming systems work just fine too (and the PS2 one is really cheap from Amazon).
And I suck because while I was originally thinking about last night for a Skypecast SnB, I wasn’t feeling it. For some reason, comments on the last post weren’t being forwarded by e-mail, so I just shrugged and thought, “meh.” But I see there was some interest. Oops. I didn’t have the Skypecast listed and was just going to send out the link to people, but instead, just click here. If we have a problem with privacy or weirdos (besides Mary-Kay ;p -mwah!- besos!) we can change the location and e-mail it out to the Normals.
So next week, Tuesday night 6.15 pacific, which means 7.15 mountain, which means 8.15 central, which means 9.15 eastern, which means 2.15am Wednesday morning Zulu time. A duration of 3 hours, so there should be plenty of time to come in and out of the conversation. I’ll have my cr@p together better next week (I hope).
Crivens says “hi.”
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02.24.07
Posted in Uncategorized at 10:26 pm by wendy
Who’d be up for chatting via skypecast? You’d need a headset and a skype account, but it would be like a virtual stitch and bitch. Except you can’t see or smell or touch what people are knitting or spinning. But you can also wear your jammies and don’t have to buy overpriced burnt coffee.
What times and nights are good for people? I set one up for Tuesdays at 6.15pm pacific time, lasting two hours, but I think I can change it. 6.15’s a little early for us westcoasters, a little late maybe for eastcoasters…so northamericancentric…
Anyway, leave me a comment to let me know if you’d prefer a different time, we can always do a poll, or leave a comment/e-mail me to get the link to join in.
I do have knitting, spinning, and pictures, and more than just grieving and packing going on. I hope to upload proof of that soon.
In the meantime, let me know about a virtual SnB, and here’s some old news:
pictures from the green tortoise portion of our trip
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02.22.07
Posted in stupefied, travel at 11:59 pm by wendy
Reason # 1001 I miss my mother
she sent this to The Weasel (Libélula) when she went to New Zealand:
Silly mommy, I miss you.
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02.07.07
Posted in Uncategorized at 12:53 pm by wendy
Thank you, to every one of you who have commented, or e-mailed or called. I appreciate it so much, I can’t even say. But I’ll try, in my spaazy way.
(my mom and her Crivvie, this Christmas at our home)
Mary-Kay came from Colorado, that’s how much she rocks. She made us laugh, she held our dogs, she withstood the raygun glare of my grandmother without bursting into flame.
The knitters and spinners have been amazing with their offers of support and food, it’s been much, much, much appreciated. Cathy who met my mother when I brought her into Two Sisters and Ewe nearly made me cry today with her kind words (some of the stuff you all say might make me cry at times, but it’s a good way, a good thing, I swear). Nancy and Crissy stayed at Rebecca’s probably much longer than they wanted to and listened to anger I didn’t even know was there. I should now better by now than to be surprised by the strength, kindness, and generosity of this community.
And all your comments.
I really can’t thank you guys enough for the comments. I’m one of those people who feels so overwhelmed by the small useless-feelingness of my words when confronted by the overpowering hugeness of someone’s pain that, before, I’ve started to comment on someone’s blog and then just deleted it because it seemed so…so…inadaquate. But now I know, all those words count, all those words help. With every comment that has been left I’ve paused and felt the sympathy in the words and thought about the commenter, and that has really helped pull me outside of this pain a little more, out of this me who is struggling with everything never seeing or talking to my mother again means. The support of everyone has been awesome and I really, really, really appreciate it.
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02.02.07
Posted in stupefied at 10:43 pm by wendy
I cannot believe you are gone. I love you and wish I could talk to you just one more time. I found the t-shirt you bought me at the Christopher Moore book signing in your car and I cried. I don’t want to unpack and see the shirt I bought you in Guatemala. I wish I could stop thinking about the future we have to live without you. I want to stop crying, but I hate this paralysed numb stupor of the not crying.My mom read my blog, she liked the dog pics best. I knew she read my blog, and often I’d write something thinking about her, but I never had to worry or censor because of her, I always knew that she’d still talk to me. My mom has a great sense of humor. I really don’t know if I’m ready to say goodbye yet and use the past tense. I can’t believe she’s gone. I focus on the things we need to do for her estate, and tonight we went through the clothes in her closet and packed them away for Goodwill and Nick held out a shirt and said, “When I think of your mom, it’s clothes like this,” holding up a brightly colored floral button-down, and we laughed and pulled out more that were just so Mom, and since if I kept everything that was just so Mom, in an apartment full of everything of hers, everything picked and placed just so, the altar would become huge…I put the shirt in the Goodwill bag, and pretty much everything else hanging in the closet.
But it was almost fun. Distracting like what I am, a little girl going through mommy’s closet.
But if I think at all about what Mom being gone means, what it really means, all the things I won’t be able to tell her, all the things in our lives she’s going to miss–how will I endure a pregnancy without missing her every minute, every day, every developmental month, wanting to know, “was it like this for you? How was it with you when you–? What did it mean? Is this normal?” How am I going to look at a child of mine without seeing my mother? I want this pain to go away. The rational part of me knows it will. With time. But when I opened the door to our dryer and found the identical twin to the shirt Nick had held up as a prime example of Momfashion, I sobbed like an idiot in our cramped spider-filled laundry room.
I can’t write anymore tonight, but of course there’s always more to say. Slow Central American post means we are now receiving postcards we sent to her here. As I cleaned out her bedroom drawers I found she saved all the postcards I sent her before, so I guess I will just put them with those. I wish we’d called her, there were so many silly and trivial things we could have talked about. I don’t even want another conversation to have a heavy conversation, I’ll settle for our usual fluffy topic of “how weird are the dogs being today?”
When we go to Mom’s apartment as we’re unlocking the door the dogs wag their tails like Grandma’s going to be sitting on the couch with a book and a glass of wine, just on the other side of the door, but they’ve stopped checking the apartment for her. In that moment between unlocking and unlocked doors where we believe we’ll see her, where that feeling is so strong, I want to live in that moment.
But life goes on and we can’t.
Mom I miss you so much.
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