Chaos Attraction

Revenge Stories and Dreamcatchers

2018-12-05, 6:04 a.m.

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This entry covers December 2.

Tour de Craft Fair continued on Sunday. We had planned to make it to three craft fairs but only ended up making it to two.

On the way out to the first one, we discussed Dave’s revenge stories from last night. I said that I never try to strike back against anyone because I figure everyone else is more evil than I am and they’ll be much better at fighting than I will be. I said that the closest I’ve ever gotten to trying to get revenge on anyone is overhearing* my former bully saying that she didn’t like yellow because she got picked on for wearing it. And then I wore a yellow outfit three days later so hopefully she didn’t figure out that I’d overheard that and wore it deliberately. I figure it would have been noticed if I’d worn yellow the very next day. So yeah, that’s me getting revenge, y’all.

* I have headphones on all day trying to not hear the conversations in the Shark Tank, but sometimes you hear things anyway.

Dawn had a better one, though: one of her brothers is apparently Very Religious and when she called him, she made a harmless joke about Santa coming and then her brother basically bit her head off and bitched that WE only celebrate the birth of the most high god, baby Jesus! (Or uh, however that was phrased, I forget.) Dawn was all, “uh....someone else wants to talk to you.” So for the last few decades, she always sends that brother a Santa card. He has made no comment.

Anyway, the first craft fair we went to was the street fair in Folsom. It was bigger and great and we had fun tooling around, I think. And taste testing a bunch of stuff in the olive oil store. I got a book on sale and a tiny pickle ornament and a set of pink lights--I hadn’t seen those anywhere before so I had to pick those up.

In the later afternoon, we went to the Upcycle Pop show, which I think is a new one and run by Burning Man people. They had a few art cars on display outside. They had a series of lectures going on and I insisted that we go to the one about fashionable cosplay, moderated by “Major Sexypants” and with a panel of three pirates and a wench (and one guy who gave up actual cosplay to do photography because one can’t play Wolverine and take pics at the same time). That was a lot of fun for me.

I also had great fun at their market. I met an artist that I’d seen the mosaic work of at Sierra and talked to her about that, and bought one of her micro mosaic pieces. I also FINALLY got to learn how to make a dreamcatcher because a girl was offering to teach you how to make them. Amusingly enough, earlier in the day I’d been looking at some crocheted dreamcatchers and was saying to Dawn that I’ve always wanted to learn but figured at some point I’d find someone who teaches it. I finally did! So I did a small one and hopefully got the basics down for later. I think everyone else was a bit bored waiting on me though and we ended up missing going back to town for the last craft fair that ended at 4...but oh well.

And finally, I am writing these up while watching “The Great Christmas Light Fight.” In this season’s premiere, there is a kid who dubs himself the “King of the Inflatables.” His birthday is December 1. This is a direct quote from his mother: “He’s not weird or anything, but what kid would ask for Christmas decorations for his birthday or Christmas?” One born on December 1, I think!


In other news, I have been rather sleep deprived this weekend between (a) getting up early both days and (b) Mom sleeping over one of them. She has irritatingly developed a snore since my dad went into the hospital. It used to be tiny, cute, and ignorable. Then I had to make her use Breathe Right strips when I was over and that covered it. Then that stopped covering it. Then I had to sleep with foam earplugs when we were in the same room--fine, I usually do that when at home to block out apartment flushing noises and whatever anyway. Then recently it’s gotten worse and I had to go get the gel-ish ones that mold into your ear and keep a stash at her house and mine. Those usually work for other snorers I’ve shared space with, but this night, she got too loud to even have those work any more. I got fed up enough to have to go into the living room at 5 a.m. and try to sleep in my papasan chair, which has tons of pillows and blanket action. It almost worked. Well, it was quiet but I had a hard time losing consciousness after that.

Unfortunately, when I’m at Mom’s I have literally nowhere else to go to get away from if she’s THAT loud now, unless I want to sleep on the damn bathroom floor (yay hoarding). And I am going to be spending a lot of time sleeping in the same room with her at her house in the next month. I told her that either she goes to the doctor or she clears out somewhere else for me to sleep in her house, but unfortunately I have no leverage on that one and on her days off she has no inclination to clean out any of her precious things. She pouted and said that she was catching a cold and I should have rolled her over on her side, which she was on already. Grrr, argh, excuses. I grew up having this argument with Dad whenever I had to sleep in the same room as him and now here we are again.

I know it’s super hard to get a snorer to stop and they have to go to a lot of work and effort to please other people when they can sleep no matter what in 30 seconds even if they’re woken up to stop and they don’t consider it their problem AND my mom tried to sleep train me to sleep through all noises to boot (sadly lost that ability with age), but...
Unfortunately, waking a snoring parent up every time only means they drop back to sleep in 30 seconds and start all over again. Also, if she wasn’t a hoarder and I had my own room to sleep in over there I wouldn’t have to care so much. God, I hope when we’re on vacation there’s two guest rooms. I’m seriously considering driving back to sleep at home the next two Saturdays (I plan on going to parts farther south in the Bay Area around then so this will be a pain in the ass if I do it) just to sleep.


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