Merry Christmas to All, and to All a Good Flight!

"Now, I'm his ghost. That's not difficult. It's unbearable. I know everyone is proud of him, but I am not. And I do not wish him well." -- Christina Yang, Grey's Anatomy

"All We Need is a Witch Doctor in the Corner"

In the ever-expanding category of "proverbial straws to break this poor little camel's back," the most recent one is also, perhaps, the most absolutely ridiculous. I won't bore you with the details of every little thing that's made me want to crawl in a hole and die lately, just the most recent one.

My living room is a swamp. Or, "the bayou" as we've come to affectionately call it. Through a series of complicated and annoying electrical issues, there is a pool forming under our living room carpet. It causes deep puddles to seep up through our floor, squish between our toes, and make a generally smelly mess. It has also caused our power bill to soar sky high, seeing as a) it seems to be an air conditioner issue and b) the drying process requires us to run the air conditioner three days straight without stopping, as low as it can go.

And so, today finds the residents of the bayou eating pizza, watching as numerous repairmen traipse through the house making conflicting suggestions, and keeping an eye out for gators.

And while our bayou may not have a chorus of helpful fireflies, we do have the ever-so-pleasant hum of two industrial driers, 24-hours a day! And that sweet, swampy smell of breeding mold. And the freezing cold gusts of wind from every vent. Wouldn't you want to live here?

Confessions of a Homeless Housewife : Part II

I think one of my problems is, I am domestic in spurts. I'll have these great surges of homemakerish energy, where I feel inclined to sew, bake, organize, or bedazzle anything in sight.

It's rather like nesting, but without the egg.

If I could find a way to be consistently domestic ... to channel my love of cupcakes into opening up a little bakery. Or sew things for an Etsy shop, as I have tried and failed to do at least half a dozen times. If I could just make it all a regular part of my life ... maybe then, something good would come of it.

I've always loved the fact that I'm interested in a lot of things. I dabble in many hobbies, I explore different professions and pastimes ... but the unfortunate truth is, sometimes that makes for simply mediocre performance in many areas, rather than exquisite performance in one. I cannot make a living with my hobbies and my sporadic passions. I cannot settle down enough to dedicate my time to simply one thing. And as such, I never seem to improve in any of them.

Three cheers for substandard creativity.

"Bloody Jack"

Bloody Jack: Being an Account of the Curious Adventures of Mary "Jacky" Faber, Ship's Boy by L.A. Meyer
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

This book was an "Audible" find for me ... while I was sifting through endless samples, looking for a narrator I can even halfway tolerate. I'm frighteningly picky about narrators ... especially the women.

But Katherine Kellgren, who reads the entire "Bloody Jack" series, was a revelation. She brought to life perfectly an already gripping and thrilling adventure. Had I not stumbled upon her voice, I would never have been introduced to Mary "Jacky" Faber, or "Bloody Jack." The star of our series. A young orphan girl, who leaves her miserable life as an urchin beggar behind and, disguised as a boy, enlists in the King's Navy as a ship's boy.

What I expected to be a fairly routine and cookie-cutter story turned out instead to be an absolutely delightful read. (Or, in my case, listen.) I was surprised at how quickly it roped me in, and how easily I got lost in the sails and polished decks of the HMS Dolphin.

So hoist the mainstay, veer to starboard, and smooth sailing soldiers! Ride the rolling tide to your nearest bookstore, and start readin' those letters! Captain's orders! And if you're pressed for time, ask Katherine Kellgren. She'll do the reading for you!


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Confessions of a Homeless Housewife

While I was opening my fourth baking-related gift of the day on Christmas, my mother said, "Who would have ever thought that Kaitlin would grow up to be so domestic?"

The answer to that is : nobody.

I was the type who wasn't going to get married until I was 35. I hated dresses, I despised wearing white because I was a notoriously messy child, and "helping" with dinner was simply a clever ruse to hide my taste-testing everything in sight.

But I got married at 19. I started cooking, and actually enjoying it. I sew for fun (heck, I have my own machine and dress dummy) and I would rather be home alone baking on a Saturday night than out at the movies.

Oh, and I wear SKIRTS now!  And SUNDRESSES!  When did THAT happen?!

But the sad truth is, now that I enjoy all these domestic pursuits so much more than I ever thought I would, who do I have to share them with?  I get in the mood to make something, and lose my motivation halfway through, because what's the point?  I'm a nomad.  I haven't lived in the same place for more than a year in 5 years.  Anything I make, I'll just have to find a place for in the already crowded apartment.  The kitchen is small, and every time I go on a baking spree I take up two whole rooms, and get in everyone's way.  When I make dinner, I make enough to feed a small army, and most of it simply goes to waste.

What happened to me?

And what do you do with yourself when you're a homeless housewife?