I bought a leather bracelet on Saturday while putzing around the West End Farmer's Market, and I say "around" in a way that doesn't exactly convey that part of one narrow block beside the Nelson dog park contains no more than twenty vendors and a (occasionally ukulele-playing) busker. It's good, it's fucking brilliant two blocks away from my house, but any Turkish transplant who saw it would fall on the ground laughing. That said, it's big enough to have bracelets, including the one that I have fallen head-over-heels in love with. When my workmate admired it earlier this week I admitted that part of it's appeal was it made me feel like She-Ra. She said she was pretty sure She-Ra's bracelets were metal. I said really it had been my brother who was more into the show. And there aren't a whole lot of princesses in accounting. Given the option, I prefer to think of myself as more of accounting's dark mistress. ("Today we're going to dabble in double entry...the safe word is: Sarbanes-Oxley.")
I would take a picture of my bracelet and post it here but my computer is a piece of shit, and downloading a picture right now and then trying to do anything in Photoshop with it would make it melt. I think it has the Good Times virus, but I am far too lethargic to do anything about it. It took me nearly a year to get my fricking fridge fixed. Anyway, it is crashing constantly (the computer), and I can do nothing on it without becoming very, very frustrated. It's been bad for a while, but now it's at the point where moving the mouse sometimes kills it. I blame my younger brother, who gets blamed for quite a lot of things. (Though not as many as he should.)
Did I mention the site redesign? There isn't one. Things will probably morph somewhat and then they will likely suddenly be exactly the same, because I'll have screwed something up so badly I'll have had to go back to saved templates. But at least I'll have saved the templates! Probably not on anything other than the melting computer though. Last year before leaving for Turkey I just barely got MT working and then promptly abandoned it. It doesn't do what or look like I want, so I'm going to start fiddling with it. Or possibly I will just continue being lazy. It's impossible to tell.
Which reminds me, I have been called 'sir' three times since getting my hair cut off. Most recently today by a person standing on a street corner, looking for change. When I was a wee lass and this used to happen, long hair not being an option in her low-maintenance-children world, my mother joked repeatedly to friends, family, and the occasional person in line at the grocery store that we were either going to have to get me a training bra or my ears pierced. A training bra wouldn't have helped, I had nothing to train. (Nor would I for at least five more years. It takes me longer to do everything.) So off we trundled on my ninth birthday to get my ears pierced. It didn't really help much, though hope springs eternal: I have taken to wearing larger earrings in the last few months. It's still not a great help because earrings don't exactly define the gender, you know? And while I most definitely have something to train now and I could easily make them more obvious, I refuse to follow my boobs around the universe any more than I already have to. Is it supposed to matter, being mistaken for a man? Probably not. Though I don't like being called American either, and it's not that there's anything wrong with them, it's more I'm just not one and really fucking proud of it.
Which reminds me (it was the recalcitrant feeling, if you're trying to follow along) that my mother is staying with me this weekend; she has been talking about doing so since I moved "into town" almost two years ago now. Sometimes procrastination is not a bad thing. I feel I have put this off until exactly the moment where the possibility that it may be survivable exists. Not only survivable, but my mother and I may even still be speaking afterwards. Though I am going to take the couch. And therefore must also remember to clear out my night stand before Friday. ("What are all these accounting textbooks doing in here? And what in good god's name is Sarbanes-Oxley?" "Uh...never mind, Mom.")