Michele Bachmann, you are a twit

Dear Michele Bachmann,

I would like to let you know that you are, to put it way nicer than I should, a twit. Why a twit? Because calling you a moron would be an insult to morons. First and foremost let me say that I’m not a Tea Partier, hell, I’m not a Republican. Yes, I’m that woman you hate – an independant, feminist Democrat. Not a bleeding heart liberal by any means, but still feet firmly on the left. I had to get that out there. My calling you a twit is not due to my Democratic Party leanings. No. My reasoning for calling you a twit is much more of a personal nature.

I knew better than to watch the debates live. However, you provide such… “interesting”… sound bites that I couldn’t miss this gem. You are criticizing Rick Perry’s stand on making sure that Gardasil, the HPV vaccine, available to all girls at a young age – NOT as you say, as a mandated vaccine, but as a choice for parents to have the vaccine administered to their daughters. You say that it’s because you’re a mom and you don’t want to take the risk for your girls. That’s all fine and good – but what if a parent wants to take that “risk”? What if a parent wants to ensure that their daughter doesn’t have to go through the pain and suffering of cervical cancer?! What then? You want to take away that right? Would you have opposed the polio vaccination when it was new? If you knew that it could prevent a lifetime of suffering? What about the MMR vaccination? Did you oppose that when your girls were entering school?

Let me tell you this – if that vaccination had been around when I was a teenager, I might be able to have kids today. No, I didn’t contract HPV at a young age, I was diagnosed at 25. My partner was someone I had been with for years. I was diagnosed with pre-cancerous cells ranging from levels 1 -4 . Yes, I had the whole gamut. And, luckily, I had a doctor who did everything she could to keep it from spreading any farther. Had there been something like this when I was a teenager, that might not have happened. A young woman of 25 wouldn’t have had to sit in her gynecologist’s office, sobbing, as her doctor tells her that for her to get pregnant and have kids naturally would be “a miracle.” All because of a virus. That could have been prevented long before I was struck with it. Luckily, I have a wonderful doctor who is a specialist in fertility. When the time comes (and as long as I have insurance), she will try and help, but the odds aren’t great.

Every parent has that choice to make – for their daughter. You can’t, shouldn’t, and won’t make that decision for them. If I had a daughter, I’d take her to the doctor and get her vaccinated. I know if that vaccination had been around when I was young that my mother would have taken me to get it.

Also? RU-486 (the “abortion pill”) is NOT the same as Plan B. Plan B is back up birth control, nothing more. It’s like taking a double dose of the birth control pill. It does help to prevent pregnancy, however, if an egg has been fertilized it will not terminate the pregnancy. Get your facts straight, twit. If you’re going to spout off facts on a national level, you should do your research first. Or have your speech writers and researchers do your research and drill the correct facts into your head.

Right now, I’m just waiting for you to make an even bigger fool of yourself on this national level. I think I’ll pop some popcorn and pour a glass of wine while waiting for that to happen.


Klassy (and, Ms. Bachmann, if you want a real name, just contact me, I’ll be happy to give it)


Sometimes the simplest things bring me peace

It’s been a rough couple of weeks at work. I’ve been working on a project that has become my baby – the ownership of this project belongs to three people: myself, my boss and another director in the company. While this is awesome – and an awesome opportunity for me – it comes with some unique headaches. I know that it hasn’t made me easy to live with lately, but my fabulous friends seem to understand.

The personal life hasn’t been any better, really. I moved out of my apartment back in July – you know the one that inspired the second half of this post? Yeah, I’m not sad to see the back of them, however, I thought that it would be much easier to find a place than it has been. So, since July 17 I’ve been without a place to call my own. Or even half my own. I won’t use the term “homeless” because I’m really not homeless. I’m lucky enough to have grown up in the area, to have parents who still live in the house I grew up in – and asked me to come home while I look for a place. It’s definitely an adjustment. One thing I’ve had to get used to is that my parents will never see me as the 36 year old I am, but as the 16 year old I was. Happy, happy, joy, joy. Things with K haven’t been… well, much of anything. After he disappeared (no calls, emails, whatever) in November/December, I declared myself single and started dating. Wow. The dating pool has been interesting. The only one who has stuck around for longer than a date or two has been a much younger guy – very sweet, but definitely not the one. You know? (Damn you Hollywood and Disney for setting such unreasonable expectations on relationships and keeping little girls looking for a Prince Charming. We should start a class action lawsuit about that… but that’s a story for another post.) Well, at the beginning of the new year, K resurfaced. After he told me why, I understand why he disappeared, but let him know that it’s not going to be tolerated again. He, so far, has taken that to heart, which has resulted in some great conversations. He knows where I stand and that’s a start. He’s started telling me some of the things that I’ve wanted to hear for ages. So, we’ll see. However, I haven’t stopped dating the Young One. (Why? Well, it’s kind of nice to be adored by someone.)

With all the chaos that’s been my life since July, I’ve felt the need to find some order. Something that I can control. I’ve rediscovered my knitting mojo. It started with finishing off a couple of small projects that I brought over with me after packing the rest of my yarn and half-finished projects in storage. The problem was after those projects, I had nothing to work on. So, off to the yarn shops (both brick and mortar and online) I went. Soon there were shawls and socks coming off the needles. But with all that’s going on the past couple of weeks, I needed something simpler. Something that didn’t take a lot of brain power to work on… and the discovery of a love of garter stitch was born.

I know I don’t really talk about my knitting or other crafting on here. For years I had another blog, just for knitting, but when that started gathering dust, I deleted it. With the advent of sites like Ravelry and with blogging for the shop, I just didn’t see the need to have my own anymore. Maybe I’ll start a new one, but until then, you’re stuck with it here. 🙂

Who knew this would be therapeutic for me?

When a person learns to knit, they generally learn to cast-on their stitches – but the first stitch they learn is the knit stitch. Many times, a person’s first big project is a simple, garter stitch scarf – it’s the easiest thing to learn to do because it’s just one stitch, over and over into oblivion. There are some people who LOVE this, knitting miles and miles of the same thing. I am not one of those people. When I taught myself to knit, I knit exactly one garter stitch scarf before I got bored and moved on to another pattern. So, when I found a small shawlette/scarf knit in garter stitch, but on the bias with a lacy edging, I was intrigued. It proved to be exactly what I needed to calm myself. The simple act of sticking my needle in the loop on the other needle, wrapping the yarn around the first needle and pulling it back through the loop, over and over again, brought me an indescribable peace. Crazy, right? When that shawlette was finished, I needed to continue this. I hadn’t experienced that calmness in a long time and, like a junkie, I needed my fix. I needed more of this calm. So I pick another project that is a lot of garter stitch – a baby blanket. Let me say that I have never knit a baby blanket because of the time commitment and I hate knitting scarves – blankets are like big scarves to me. So I pick one with interest and color changes, which I hope will keep me interested. So far, so good. Perhaps I’ll actually get this done in time for the baby’s arrival? Heh. I’m not counting on it, but a girl can hope, right?

The first week… and a half

The first week at work has been great, but exhausting. I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to see Friday in my life. Not because it was horrible or physically exhausting, but because my brain was so overloaded that I was excited for two days of learning nothing new.

Honestly, though, I am loving the job so far. This is so far removed from what I’ve done in the past that it’s a challenge – and I love a challenge. The people in my office are really very nice, a little quieter than I’m used to, but I’ll get used to that soon enough. The people I interact with in other offices have been wonderful, calling/emailing to welcome me to the company, insisting that I become parts of meetings – luckily, I am a firm believer of jump in with both feet and see if you swim. So far, so good. Today was probably the busiest day I’ve had so far – I came in to projects lined up waiting for me in my inbox and spent 3 hours on the phone in a meeting then training session. It’s a good thing I can multitask – or that I’m feeling comfortable enough to start multi-tasking.

You'd be a little worried too if you saw this in your place, yes?

It seems that whenever things are going well, something is going to happen to make life a little more difficult. Last night, while changing the cat litter in the bathroom, I looked up at the hall ceiling and saw that. –>

Yes, that would be a part of my ceiling falling out because of the surrounding wet spot. Knowing how my apartment complex is about using the “emergency number”  – this would not have qualified for an emergency, as there was no water pouring from the ceiling – I took a picture and posted it on Twitter, natch, and called the main number, hoping to leave a message. Nope. The machine was turned off. Great. So I called this afternoon, and to the Property Manager’s credit, he sent someone out as soon as I called. How do I know? I got home to a note and a very large hole in my hallway ceiling. The note just asked that I clear off the top of my fridge and the cabinet up there and they’d be back tomorrow. It looks like they’ve found the source of the leak – and hopefully it will be fixed soon, but really? I have to deal with this now?

Round 1, done.


, ,

Yes, this was from Wednesday night’s game – that nerve-wracking, gut wrenching, double OT game – I know that. The sentiment, however, is the same. History will be red. Today’s series-clincher for us has proven that we want this. Not that that’s ever been questioned, not really. But this game? It showed that we are willing to work for the Cup. That we won’t let the old superstitions about Game 5s get to us. It’s a new season, a new game, and a new opponent. Now onto Round 2 – we’ll find out our opponent soon enough. If the guys can keep the momentum going, if we, as the fans, can keep the energy flowing (in his post-game interview with John Carlson, Karl Alzner said “[The fans] come to bat for us every single time. They are the reason why we have so much energy.”), we can do this. One round at a time. Let’s do this, Caps!

A girl can hope…

Well for anyone wondering, I think that Tuesday’s interviews went well. Very well. And that’s all anyone can hope for, right?

I ended up meeting with the manager for the position I had originally applied for and, while I was nervous, we seemed to hit it off and I could relax. Mid-interview, she mentioned that with my background and my personality, I might be better suited to another position that was open – not that I wasn’t a good candidate and still in the running for this one, but that my skills could be better used in the other position. She had me speak to another person (not the manager for that job), who I got along with famously – and she noticed my handknit shawl (and was duly impressed that I had knit it, heh) – and then I had a teleconference with another person in San Antonio. Wow. I was told that the manager for the other open position would be contacting me to set up an interview if she liked my resume and the feedback from the interviews.

I went home, not quite sure how I did, but knew that I felt good about it. I knew that I had guessed correctly in dressing for the interview that morning: simple, but professional. Grey trousers, white button down, fab red Frye heels (not garish, I swear), topped by my Les Abeilles shawl draped around my neck. I didn’t want to seem too stuffy/uncomfortable by wearing a suit (I am just not a suit kind of girl), but would never think of going to an interview so dressed down that, well, I would look ridiculous and unprofessional.

After talking with my friend who told me about the job in the first place, some of the residual nerves subsided – she said that the original manager I spoke very highly of me. (Hooray!) After hearing that, I got a call from the manager I still needed to speak with – after talking with her for 20 minutes, we scheduled an interview for next Wednesday. (She’s not in the area, she’s in Boston, so she’ll be down next week.)

So, like the title says, a girl can hope.

Echo… echo… echo…

Wow, I have neglected this poor blog. One would have thought that with the unemployment and the job searching, I would have lots to blog about. There have been many things going on, but not many that I openly want to discuss yet. (If you follow me on Facebook and/or Twitter – which I assume you do, since I don’t think anyone who doesn’t actually know me reads this – you already know some of it.)

In short, unemployment sucks. Well, it does once you’ve run through the severance, that is. I never thought that I’d still be searching for a job – hell, I am an expert in retail and have almost 20 years experience, with most of those in management… I would have thought that I’d be getting interviews in that field, at least. And I have gotten a couple. For companies that I love. But I haven’t gotten that second call back. And one of those interviews I walked away from (2 hours later), convinced that I had aced the interview. In fact the manager said that he didn’t want to show my resume to the District Manager, but he didn’t have a management position available in his store.  I’ve interviewed well out of my “field”, hoping that my skills in management will translate, but that hasn’t worked too well. A lot of people find it hard to see past all the “retail” on my resume. *sigh* I have an interview tomorrow for a job that I know I can do, and do well. The hiring manager seems to see the experience beyond the retail, so we’ll see. I’m trying to remain hopeful, but it’s really hard when you have a checking account that has a negative balance. (Luckily, the IRS and Virginia have been good to me this year. There will be a little money to live on soon.)

All I know is that when I get a job and get that first paycheck, I am having a beer or ten to celebrate. While being home a lot has been good for me – I’ve gotten tons of reading done and cleared out lots of podcasts – I need to be out and about. I also need my cable and internet back… and the gym. First world problems, I know, but it’s annoying and inconvenient to run to my parents’ place just to use the internet (which I’m doing a lot with the job searching).

Perhaps something will pan out. I hope so. I keep telling myself it will. Soon, it has to happen, right?

I did have something different planned for today

… however, life sometimes takes over.

One of my dearest friends, D, has lost her father this evening. She lost her mother two years ago, to the month. She has been through so much, too much, and while I would love to be there for her – another friend and I were already planning to leave for Ohio tomorrow – she’s asked us to not come. And because we love her, we will respect her wishes. But oh, will we worry.

It’s funny, this group we belong to, the hash. It seems like all sorts of fun and fluff, and it is, but when it comes down to it, I have made some of my dearest friends through it. Well, that and the knitting community, which is how I met D, who then introduced me to the hash. Within seconds of my friend and I posting on Facebook that we were thinking about doing it, both communities rallied around D, knowing that we can’t make the situation any better, but wanting to help.

All I can do is splash a shot of bourbon in my tea (oh yeah, I’m sick again) and toast the two people who gave the world their wonderful daughter. We’ll take care of her, not because she needs it, but because we love her… and she’s a member of the Sisterhood. Those bonds are strong.

Eyes, lip… CHIN?!?!



Frida Kahlo was much harsher on herself in her self-portraits than in pictures taken of her.

Okay, without any scientific studies to back me up, I would assume that a good 80-85% of women worldwide wax (or shave) somewhere on their bodies. No, I’m not talking about “down there,” that’s another blog post. Or not. Whatever. Today, I’m talking about facial waxing.

Having the background that I do, it’s pretty obvious that any excess hair might be on the darker, more noticeable side. (KlassyMom is Latina and KlassyDad is Whitey McWhite, heh.) Now, unlike Frida Kahlo, if I stopped waxing/tweezing altogether, I would not have a unibrow or well defined mustache as in her self-portraits. (Thank goodness!) However, being the vain creature that I am, I don’t like my brows not being groomed.

I came to the waxing scene late – probably in my early 20’s – after having a makeover where the person giving me a new look suggested that I give it a try to “open up my eyes.” I didn’t believe her, but I gave it a shot and lo and behold, she was right. Once I discovered that, I wasn’t far from waxing the upper lip either. As I grow older, I notice the excess hair grows back quicker, is a bit darker – where I used to take care of things once a month or so, I now take care of the excess once every two weeks, when I get a manicure and pedicure.

So, last week I decided I needed a pedicure and to take care of my face. (No manicure because I have a hurt/wonky fingernail from the closing of the shop, so no manicures for a while.) I had a great pedicure and went in for the brow/lip wax. All was well, until after she was done with my brows and lip she asks, “your chin too?” Ummm, no. No. No. No. Do you see hair on my chin?! No. Soooo, that would mean NO. Of course I was much nicer in refusing her offer… but what the hell? You have to sign in for your services when you get there. If I don’t write it on the sign in form, I don’t want it. Period.

Now there may be some people out there who don’t understand the vanity… and I don’t expect y’all to. Hell, I have an agreement with my stylist (whom I’ve known since I was 12) that if she runs across grey hairs while I’m in her chair, to just take care of them, don’t even ask. She hasn’t had to deal with that yet, thankfully – the two that I’ve had, I found and took care of. Vain? Perhaps. Girly-girl? Definitely. Do I care that I am? No.


Sometimes you have to test someone. Not because you don’t trust them, but to see how much they’ll sacrifice for you. And sometimes you have to let them go; not cause you suddenly stopped loving them, but to see if they love you enough to come back. – Unknown

Reading through my Google Reader tonight I came across this quote. It says a whole hell of a lot of what I’m going through right now. Honestly, it’s just kinda creepy/weird that I see this quote tonight after getting the email I got from K.

No, things haven’t been all that rosy between the two of us. With fall, his job really picks up, not a bad thing at all – it brings in the money and makes him less stressed – however, it’s making me realize that I’m not a priority. And it’s making me question if I’ll ever be one. So, with a lot of thinking to be done, I’m in a bit of a funk. Do I stay and “fight” – and put forth all the effort, it seems – or do I let go? If I let go, I know that I’ll hope – hope that he’ll come to realize how important I am to him, hope that he’ll be aware enough to come back. And do I want to live on just hope? When did the switch happen? He was the one who said he didn’t care that he could only see me for less than 24 hours, he just wanted to be with me. What happened?

All I can do is ask a lot of questions, consume a lot of beer, pester my friends (y’all are angels to put up with me), and think. If you need me, that’s what I’ll be doing. Perhaps I’ll get around to writing that blog post that I’ve had kicking around since I became unemployed. Perhaps I’ll write about the annoyance at the nail salon today. If/when I do, I’ll still be thinking about this.

Sorry about the melodrama, peeps. I promise I’ll be back to “normal” soon. xoxo

Because all I want to do is crawl back in bed and feel like a kid again…

It’s been a hell of a day after the evening before today. I really need to remember that I’m in my mid-thirties and cannot (and probably should not, but whatev) drink like I’m 21 again. Or 19. Or 25. In lieu of being able to go back to bed and have someone take care of me, I was reading the Mental Floss blog and came across this post on back to school essentials. (I love me some Mental Floss… Just sayin’.) I always loved this time of year. Shopping for back to school supplies and clothing always made me happy. I suppose I can look at this life change as a sort of back to school? I wonder if I should get a new 64 pack of Crayolas to prepare. Now I just want to color.