I flat out hate going to court. I hate even going to the so-called justice center where court is held. The place, the building, is so full of pain and bad energy that I always feel awful and edgy when I'm there. Which isn't often.

I had to be there today, in small claims court, for eviction proceedings of our tenant. He hasn't paid rent since July. That is bad enough, but he also Will. Not. Leave. It took a full month from filing the papers to get our day in court, and the judge gave him two weekends to vacate, with another hearing scheduled afterward for damages. Sigh. Our renter is a nice guy (with issues) and we're nice people, but damn it man! GO! Leave!

I also hate how Halloween is celebrated anymore. I love the day, mind you, but I hate that it has become just another Hallmark/WalMart holiday. At my first real job at the costume company in Atlanta, 1976, adults were just getting into the swing of things as far as costumes and parties were concerned. Atlanta Costume was a mob scene for the entire month of October and I learned to detest the day.

After I quit that job (for the third and final time,) I eventually warmed up to the day again. I dressed up and went to parties. My Sexy Snake costume is still one that I am proud of. It consisted of a snakeskin print tailcoat worn over a black leotard, with top hat and a matching top-hatted snake. High heels were also involved. Also, long brown hair. I did not get custody of the photographs after the divorce.

Sweetie and I really got into the spirit when we moved here. Usually around three on the afternoon of the 31st, we would get motivated to decorate. Grave markers, headless and armless torsos, cleaver wielding dummies (operated by rope from the roof). You know, the usual, and all hand made or hand ornamented. Our place was The House to visit. Parents brought the kids and the video cameras.

Then, later, Sweetie couldn't get off from work so I carried on for awhile until my energy was used up.

Anymore, though, folks start decorating in SEPTEMBER for crying out loud. And it's all store bought from WalMart (You're place for cheap plastic crap.) Sweetie practically forced me to buy candy today. I was all ready to hide in the back of the house with all lights out tonight.

The day is no longer special. Oh, and Little Brother said that in his Ohio village, their Halloween was officially held last week! How sad is that? Makes me want to paint my body blue and dance around a huge bon fire.

I find that I am now editing, nay, censuring my blog because I know some of the people reading it. Certain friends and family. Fuzzarelly sure is boring these days.

Let me tell you where I'm at today. And also for the past several months. No editing. I am not particularly depressed, but I sure don't have anything to cheer about. I find myself solving sudoku puzzles in order to pass the time. I am not interested in anything. I don't want to do anything. I merely want to get through each day as painlessly and quickly as possible. I am waiting to die, if you want to know. I am so tired of life. Not that I will take any active measures to end my existence since mother took that messy way out.

I am told that this is not normal. People should not feel this way. Yeah, well, here I am. It isn't icky hot anymore (which is so depressing), but the fall brings substantially less sun light which makes me sad and listless. Am I not a worthless piece of flesh?

The 300 little samples of Fuzzarelly Fibers that I sent to S.O.A.R. has generated maybe twenty hits at Fuzzarelly.com and zero emails. I de-listed my wares at Etsy because it got no interest. I don't know what to do. My stuff is good - at least to me. I have been spinning it over the weekend and it's been one of the more enjoyable things I've done in a while. It's rather pricey, but not outrageous. Not when one considers what people will spend on their hobbies.

But this is outside of my depression. I'd be depressed either way.

I stopped knitting the body of the leaf/green shawl when I became totally sick of it and began the edging, which is proving to be more interesting than I thought it would be. It's a fairly simple pointed thing and there is an end in sight.

I have sock yarn but no desire to knit socks.

I have way too many things that I am tired of tending to, keeping track of, storing. I don't have the energy to get rid it.

Sweetie is so attentive and adoring but I fear that he will grow tired of my sad face and cease to love me.

I have to pay $2000 for my roto-rooter session that my insurance won't cover. There may not be any insurance at all if Sweetie's job goes gone. Fuck me. (In the old sense of 'hit or strike' me.

I wish I were a bear so that I could hibernate for six months.

If you have stayed with me so far, this is your REWARD.

Firstly, it is still raining here in southern Indiana! We have received over 6 inches of rain, much needed rain, over the past week. When I went to town for errands yesterday and got my socks and shoes soaked, I didn't mind! Live stock ponds that were bone dry have filled up. The river in town is a foot below a bridge I use a lot. Rain Rain Glorious Rain!

But it was dry and beautiful for the Southern Indiana FiberArts Festival this last Saturday. The first year of the festival there were 14 vendors. Last year, maybe twice that. This year, 45! And even better, attendance was incredible. I don't have figures, just my own eyes and I can tell you that folks just kept streaming in all day - and they came to buy! I had a great day, selling fiber, equipment, and 4 bunnies (who went to good homes.) It was a long day, though, as I was alone in my booth. After packing up, I about fell over from exhaustion.

Here is Blue Acorn and her booth. She sells hand dyed yarn and kits for purse and hats.




This is Kristin from Flatwoods Alpaca Farm.



Ann - from the best named yarn store ever, Grinny Possum.



And for you punctuation fuss budgets, "Click Here"

The 3rd Annual Southern Indiana FiberArts Festival was not a success. It was a FANTASTIC SUCCESS! More later...

A brief note. How could I have misspelled Fuzzarelly??? Acid - crazed spiders must have attacked my brain! There are not two Rs in Fuzzarelly and never have been. Thank goodness, an R was exactly in the center, so I cut out bad R and seamed the banner back together and it looks great. I will try to take pictures.

Sweetie, instead of a short week, will work 6 days this week. I was hoping he would be able to help with my booth at the festival, but I suppose if he's going to work he may as well get paid for it.

Knits 'n' Notes

The Southern Indiana FiberArts Festival is THIS SATURDAY. (The link is in the sidebar to your right.) I am finally getting around to painting the backdrop for my booth. Ahead of schedule, I'd say. Sweetie rescued the stencils from a dumpster at work at least two years ago. I knew they would come in handy someday! (Sometimes I love his pack rat nature, other times - not so much.)



Sort of just pulled this image out of my ass. Hello, we need a bunny for the banner. I didn't want to make the bunnies too Easter-ish. Or too anthropomorphic. It's hard to portray fuzziness. However, I am pleased with the overall look of the thing and the FUZZARELLY is big and purple. Hard to miss.




Knitting slowly progresses on the green shawl, opus 2. I steamed blocked it for the photo and it measures 19" x 45" - thank goodness. When I took it off the needles, it looked so tiny and shrunken. Like some snake skin.




I'll be selling a few bunnies down the river this weekend, so I have been grooming them. This is Pepper, who was so furry and cute that Sweetie had to take this photo.



Sweetie has a part-time job for at least the next three weeks, while a potential buyer looks things over. This work week is three days long and the next two weeks may well be the same. I see lots of beans and rice in our future.

I am done with the anti-robotic regimen! That stuff is nasty and did horrible things to my intestinal tract. I have been inhaling yoghurt all the time, which may have helped. But it was still awful and I am glad to be shet of it. Now we wait to see if the pain/infection returns.

Good news is that we got a half inch of rain yesterday with more expected tonight. Temperatures are more seasonal, too. The bunnies be happy.

Have you been to the past lately?

Bunnies and Movies

This is Brownie, back in March.



Now he's called Ginger.



Some of you all have asked about my sordid past in the movie industry.

It is not possible to make this short and interesting. The story will be long and probably not at all interesting.

To start at the beginning, it seems like I was born sewing. When I was 4 or 5, I sat on the floor of the front porch and "helped" my mom sew on a treadle sewing machine by pushing up and down on the treadle. A few years later, I sat in her lap at the new-fangled electric sewing machine and seamed some gingham for a doll skirt. At age ten, I was given access to an even newer sewing machine in order to make "my own clothes." Mom's only caveat was "Don't break it!" Thanks Mom! I made my up own patterns and made my own clothes. I had no idea that this was supposed to be hard.

(Back then, it was actually cheaper to sew one's own clothes. Imagine.)

I parlayed this talent into a job at a costume company, back in 1976. (Before China made everything for us.) I stitched for money for many years. My friend Judy and I started a not-for-profit costume company in Atlanta in 1984. Judy was the resident designer and executive, and I was the general dog's body. I was the shop manager, first hand, stitcher, rental manager, and toilet cleaner. (Judy was so supportive, though. A great teacher! She had a big library! I am what I am because of her. Thank you, J. Dragon!)

I did not go to college to get a degree in theater or costume design/construction. I am an autodidact. If I don't know how to do something, I get a book and figger it out. With varying success. (I am not a milliner, for example. My hats suck.) I learned to how take a designer's rendering, create the pattern, and construct it.

So. Despite a lack of ambition, my talent became known around Atlanta. My talent also became known to me, when once I went toe to toe with an honest-to-god-college-ejimicated costume person. And won. Actors loved me because their costumes fit! I was good, pragmatic, and fast.

Circa 1991, costume gossip centered on a new teevee show, I'll Fly Away, that was coming to town and how to get one's resume to these California people. Faxing was new-fangled then, and costly. I was not interested because I already had a job. (Actually, I had three jobs then, but that's a whole 'nuther story.)

Imagine my delight when two weeks later I received a phone call from the wardrobe supervisor of the new teevee show asking if I would be interested in working for them. Seems she had called around and My Name was mentioned by everyone as The Best Costume Person Around. I loved working with that costume designer and I really loved that gig.

I also learned that getting into the working-in-film door is hard, but once one's foot is in that door, and one is deemed a reliable, good, and diligent worker, then practically every film door is opened. The costume designer of I'll Fly Away liked me a lot and he told his friends back in California. So, I got work on several straight-to-video movies, plus a few made-for-teevee movies. And made lots of money.

Soon, I discovered that this industry was not good for my soul. These movie people took themselves way too seriously, as if what they did was important made any difference. No cure for cancer was ever involved.

So I quit. Took my toys (and money) and moved to a state far, far away.

For Buster lovers everywhere, here he is with our new couch rat, Claudia.



The deposition went okay, although I did have bunny anxiety dreams again last night. (Little bunny feet rotting off from being in the rain and mud for three days.) (My mind has some sick alcoves.)

I truthfully answered all the questions, even if that meant saying "I don't know" or "I don't remember." Hey, if it's good enough for Alberto Gonzales, it's good enough for me.

I did succeed in pissing off the evil lawyer at least twice but I kept my wise ass in the barn most of the time. He asked me what J. and B. were thinking/meaning/whatever five or six years ago, and I replied "My suggestion to you is that you ask J. and B. for that answer." He got livid! And sarcastic! Nice. I love making a man lose control.

The other time was when he tried to pronounce a town resident's name, unsuccessfully. He said that he never could get "those Slavic names right." I piped up and said that the name was Estonian. Later, after a break (this thing went on for TWO FREAKING HOURS) he had to say that he had it on good authority that Estonia was Slavic. What did he do? Email his secretary to get that answer? He's still wrong because Estonia is mostly Finnish and not Slavic. It's these little things that make me fiendishly happy.

I was also happy that his client had to pay for TWO HOURS+ of his lawyer's time. HA-ha.

I try not to be petty. Really and mostly I do. But this episode tested my patience and so I freely spent a few of my Karma Dollars.

On the knitting front, I got several rows of the shawl done during my questioning. My lawyer said he didn't care what I did as long as I paid attention. It's still not much to look at but I plan to put it on a string sometime soon for pictures and a good looksee.

Some of you may know that I once had a brinks'n'mortar store. After I closed, several short lived enterprises occupied MY space. This spring, paper was again on the windows - Viola's Gallery was coming with art, antiques, and clothing. Who the hell is this Viola? The Bitch!

I broke down and stepped inside a couple of months ago, all ready to hate hate hate her and her little dog, too.

Know what? Deb is so nice. She and her daughter bought the building and renovated it themselves so perfectly! Everything they did, and what they sell, is what I had hoped to do - until my money and energy ran out. I visited several times and once I wore my little Barbie shoe earrings. When Deb saw them, she went wild and pleaded for me to make some for the store. So I have. I'll drop these three pair off today.



If any of you all want to contact me via email, try fuzzarelly at epowerc dot net

But first, let's kill all the lawyers...

In spite of feeling detached about the disposition this afternoon and saying out loud, "Yeah, it's all cool," I had anxiety dreams All. Night. Long. I awoke exhausted.

The dreams involved my two usual culprits - costumes and bunnies. I was having to create/sew/manage wardrobe for some huge multi-million dollar movie - and of course, every obstacle in the world was thrown at me. The bunnies were with me and somehow escaped, so I was distracted with trying to rescue them from some danger. I think the movie dream was triggered by reading Sweetie's brother's ex-wife's blog about the crazyawful movie business. I'm glad she has knitting to keep her sane, too.

I'm always amazed at how some of my dreams can be so detailed, but I won't bore you with said details. I'm sure it is not something peculiar to me.

(As an side, as I watched the football pre-game silliness yesterday, I was delighted to see a hand pain commercial aimed at knitters! And yes, I did listen to all of Terry Bradshaw's, et al. blather. As sick as it sounds, it is as comforting to me as meatloaf and mashed potatoes. The Colts kicked Tampa Bay's ass.)

Sweetie is still on vacation and will go with me to the lawyer's office. Maybe we'll go out to eat somewhere kinda nice. Maybe stop in to see Ann at Grinny Possum.

I'm okay. Thanks for asking. I'm okay in the sense of still breathing and not flat lining.

Sweetie fortuitously scheduled two weeks vacation for now. The plant's check book is in the care of the bank and he doesn't know if he will have a job once vacation is done. There are three prospective buyers looking over the place, which is good news and there is a union, so the pay won't be less. The 401k is safe. (Sweetie told me the story of the local biscuit plant that was bought out by an investment group. The pension fund was raided and then they sold it. I ask you, how can these people live with themselves after doing that to ten, twenty, thirty year employees?)

So he has been busy around the house. Outside the house, really. He spent two days on my dear car and now the horn works (yay!,) the back window rolls up and down, and - drum roll please - the passenger side door opens from the outside. He also installed the satellite radio system, which doesn't quite work yet because, all of the sudden, the front cigarette lighter is not getting voltage. (This is definitely not a new car. There are three ashtrays and two cigarette lighters in the back.)

This is the nicest beat up car I have ever owned, and I have owned some beat up cars in my life. She is a vintage '83 Mercedes. Runs perfectly, gets 24 mpg, and cost less than $2300. The only reason that I have such a dream car is because Sweetie spent a year of his life as an apprentice at a Mercedes dealership in Atlanta and he has all the books, literature, yadda yadda for this model. If one gets parts at the junkyard and does the work oneself, one can indeed own such a vehicle.

Enough about me. Let's focus about me for awhile, okay?

I went to the dentist yesterday because this one lonely tooth, who has no friends on either side of it, starting being sensitive to hot and cold. Crap. Let's just pull the sucker because I cannot afford several thousand dollars to have a bridge made and all that other stuff that a lonely tooth with no friends needs.

Good news! The dentist tapped on it and I did not go through the roof. The X-ray revealed that while the tooth has its problems, its roots are healthy! The dentist did not want to pull a healthy tooth. She asked about any sinus problems. Uh, yeah. In the most major kind of way do I have sinus problems. I have not had a sense of smell for months. Upshot is that I am on anti-robotics for ten days (Ick. I hate anti-robotics) to take care of the infection that most likely is located in my sinuses, not my tooth. Seems that the roots of said tooth are involved in my sinuses somehow. All action is on hold for four or five weeks to see if the infection goes away and stays away.

And. I don't hate all lawyers. But I have been subpoenaed to give a deposition this Monday for a town related lawsuit. (Yes! Get involved in your governing and you, too, can get sued!) It is all totally bo-o-o-o-gus, but a subpoena is a subpoena. I am to bring all sorts of nonexistent paperwork. Major pain in the ass.

The thing is that I have been subpoenaed by this same lawyer for a different case - again, a totally bo-o-o-o-gus suit. This certain lawyer is the kind of low life scum that gives good lawyers a bad name. He's a bully and a dick. I am glad that the town has a great lawyer who will be there with me.

So. I'm depressed, but Sweetie has a job for the nonce and I have my car and my tooth. Things could be so much worse.

And how are you all?