Death Virus 2009 (Spring Edition)

So...I still suffer from the death virus, which means nothing much has been happening. I'm stuck at home and I'm even beginning to be bored by the internet. It palls after, say, two weeks. Or less.

In good, non-sicky related news, I made some more stuff for Etsy and I'm hoping to get out and do a photo shoot this weekend, if the lovely, lovely sun holds and doesn't turn back into the freak snow we got night before last. Seriously, Winter, what the crap? Anyway, it's not knitted. And I love it so much that I wanna keep one or two pieces for me! Which I think is a good sign. :) Oh, and I wanna get my men's vintage pieces up, too.

James is wanting to get in on the Etsy action with his art pics now. I think we're going to put our heads together over that tomorrow. Oh! And I bought seeds (40% off Lilly Miller Organic seed packets at Fred Meyer yesterday!) and starters so that we can start our garden! I love spending time with this man. Plus he's getting me back into playing music, which has been really good for me since I'm so disgusted with Seattle theater politics anymore.

I may also be doing this awesome project. It looks pretty exciting, and I can see how it will be good preparation for the extended version of Hungry Ghosts (which I've given myself a two-year timeline on). I think it'll be a great way for me to stretch my wings and stuff. And I miss collaborating.

And I want this one.

Cheeses save.

More soup!

I wanna make this one, too! Except I would put cream in it.

It's soup season. Yay!

Thank you.

The best part about my relationship is that he's my best friend and I can have any conversation with him I need to. So, yes, Mr. VNRS and I are doing just fine, thank you.

Tomorrow I'm going to my best girlfriend Jessica's house for Thanksgiving. We're going to make vanilla ginger pear soup, as we do every year, and drink ice wine, the sweet, spendy Kool-aid of wines. It's a lovely time for us to catch up, since we rarely get to spend much time together. I miss her.

And I want to make this punkin soup. Remarkably, I have the entire holiday weekend off for the first time in seven years! So perhaps the Rock Star and I will have punkin soup for dinner.

Kissing disease.

The Kiss show went well, although I wasn't there very long. I stayed through the first set and then Dan drove me home; I'd been feeling under the weather and had to work the next day anyway. But the boys did a great job and I'd love to see the whole set sometime.

Earlier on Halloween, I took my nephew trick-or-treating for the first time. He's three. He was a fire chief! Not just a fireman, a fire chief. We went down to Magnolia Village where all the businesses prep for a big community trick-or-treat. I think we got through about ten places before his eyes started to glaze and Caitlin and I decided that it was dinner time for everyone. On the way home, Roscoe said from the back, "Tired Mama. Tired Auntie." We agreed that, yes, Mama and Auntie were very tired.

The Rock Star promptly got sick the day after Halloween, though, and I came over Saturday to make soup and a pie for him. I'm still working out this recipe for Apple Gruyere Pie. It turned out okay, but it needs more cheese. I did, however, work out a fantastic gluten-free pie crust that tastes like real pie crust and doesn't fall apart if you look at it sideways. Take that, Flying Apron Bakery!

So of course I woke up sick on Sunday after cooking all day Saturday. The Rock Star made me some eggs (I tried to make them myself but he kept me on the couch instead). After he took me home I spent the rest of the day shivering in bed and playing Final Fantasy XII. Fevers always kick my ass; once I'm over them, I'm fine with sniffles and all, but I get awful, hallucinatory fevers. I'm glad I took all kinds of vitamins and supplements this week in preparation of getting sick; things have been so bad that I knew my body would give out at some point. And it did. Hopefully I'll mostly be up and running again by tomorrow or the next day.

Pins.

Last night I went to Krysztof Nemeth's art opening at Derby Salon. I don't mind saying that I have a minor (okay, pretty major) crush on him, because he's a gigantic sweetheart and a fantastic artist, and I enjoy his company though I don't know him very well. The show was fun, mellow, with lots of free wine, which is too bad since I've been mostly dry (barely even damp!) for the last few months. When I walked up I heard a scooter fire up and pull away. I went in Krysztof gave me a big hug and said, "Wait, [Mr. VNRS's name redacted] just left! Literally, just now." Oh, well. So I spent some time with the man of the hour and his art, and Ava showed up with her friend Angel, a sultry, voluptuous burlesque girl.

People kept bringing their kids in, and Krysztof and I chatted about children together and with a few other people. Most of the little ones were around the same age, between a year and two years, running around or reaching up to the Halloween lights strung about the salon.

"You okay?"

I had been zoning out on a gorgeous tow-headed 16-month-old boy wearing a shirt with George W. Bush's picture and a caption that said President Poopy.

"Huh? Oh. Yeah. Fine."

Krysztof asks me if I like kids. I tell him, honestly, that I love them, and that I'm a proud auntie. He tells me a little about his two, but there's a distance in his obvious joy.

"Do they live with you?" I ask, a little cautiously.

He smiles sadly, and tells me they don't. "I don't really want to go into it, I'm tired of talking about it, but you can ask Ava. I don't mind you knowing...just tell her that Krysztof said it was okay."

I smile and thank him, and think about telling him about my miscarriage. I wonder if he read it on me earlier, but decide that it was unlikely. It's just that it's not the first time this week that someone has asked me if I was all right when I was staring at a baby. I hope I'm not too obvious.

Later, I chatted with a sweet guy named Johann (the other mostly sober person) until Ava, Angel, and I booked it out to the Comet to see Devon's band, Junk Mail. Mr. VNRS showed up to that, so I guess I didn't miss him after all.