Deviant Dispatches

Last time, on Deviant Dispatches... A young woman on the move. An apartment hungry for bat-like affection. And possibly a secret passage... And now, the stunning conclusion. The Batcave is pretty cool. Thanks to some incredible sidekicks (a.k.a. moving helpers), we already have a passable living room and bathroom. The bedroom's even in tolerable shape, and the kitchen was assembled enough for Spousal Unit to make some gourmet spaghetti last night. There is little to no highway traffic noise, the neighbors have been friendly, and the only loss in the move was a bottle of cayenne pepper sauce whose head wasn't screwed on very tightly. (It went on a murderous rage, dousing everything in its path with spicy vengeance. Luckily, it was in a plastic bag and no one was hurt in the assault.) This place will be awesome once I get used to it. But the one thing I cannot and will not tolerate is the basement. I will never go down there alone. Here I am, unable to go down there to sn

Source Dear Batcave , You have no idea how excited I am to become a superhero. Spousal Unit named both of the other places we've lived in (The Stick and The Pork Rind, respectively - and that was after  we became vegetarians). His tendency was to think of a ridiculous name as quickly as he could, so that the name would be second nature and I wouldn't have a chance at naming it something cool. I'm telling the truth here, Batcave : for the last year, I've lived in a place called The Pork Rind. I can't wait to live someplace less meaty. Here are my hopes for you, Batcave . I hope you'll provide a quiet environment with little highway noise. I hope you'll allow us to regulate the heat, so that we can be as cool as we want in summer and in winter (really - I like the heat on low in winter). I hope that our new neighbors will hate drama and, therefore, will spend less time standing out in the yard and screaming at 2 a.m. I hope you'll defe

I'm weird most of the time. Packing makes me even more so. See if you can guess the origins for the weird phrases I added to these boxes - I hope you'll get them all, but if not, click the link below the picture for their original source. Control the spice, control the 'verse   Famous Dead Sea Tupperware Spoons, more use for soup Italian for "fragile" (Apologies for the brief blog - last night was one of the deeper, more freakish levels of hell, in which the warm outdoor temperatures combined with our frantic packing for a sweaty 80-degree apartment. And we have no way of controlling the heat. Which meant opening the windows, for no draft at all and lots of highway noise all night. So I'm running on empty this morning. I don't even care that some of these pictures are sideways. Have an extra cuppa coffee for me, y'all.)

Progress is being made toward our move. I can prove it. See? The thing is, despite the huge number of boxes and furniture lining the walls, waiting for someone to pick it up and say, " I will love it and squeeze it and name it George ," I still feel like we're behind. Truth is, we're probably not. Last night, Spousal Unit and I counted out Q-tips and underwear, t-shirts and hair ties. Various bathroom monkeys jumped into boxes, and some beloved Packers gear followed - a treat to be discovered once victory is complete. But there's still the kitchen. And the closet. Hopefully, they won't be so bad. We've already packed certain extraneous items, and the diabolical closet plan is to just throw everything in a giant box and hope they don't all need ironing in the end. My biggest nightmare right now would be to start packing kitchen gear and discover a 20-piece set of wine glasses that haven't been packed yet, and still need to be loving

Over the weekend, I spent an incredible amount of time with my youngest sister. We had tea, took pictures, visited a really lame pumpkin patch, and ate way too much ice cream. I say the pumpkin patch was lame only out of what may be a spoiled sense of what a pumpkin patch should be. When I think of such a thing, my mind is filled with the smell of cider, the glory of corn mazes, and the childlike rapture in a simple hay wagon ride. (Mostly influenced by the horses. Because, holy crap,  horses.) A pumpkin patch is a place to revel in all things fall, eat overpriced apple cobbler and pumpkin bars, and breathe in the wonderful smell of dead nature. The pumpkin patch we visited only had pumpkins. Lamest. Cauldron. Ever. Okay, that's a slight exaggeration. There were many varieties of squash in all shapes and sizes. There was also some local honey, chewed up and spat out by bees in my own backyard. But that was pretty much where the fun ended. I love pumpkins. But I

Downtown Madison is one of the prettiest parts of the city. Sure, State Street itself has moments when it's full of drunks and panhandlers, but I think you'd be hard-pressed to find another downtown in a city of this size that is regularly so clean. And looks so nice at sunset. (If you know of another, please share with me.) It's been two weeks at my new job, and I already miss working downtown - a tiny bit. I have to say that overall, it's pretty nice to not deal with downtown traffic. Wait, I'm dealing with the beltline now. Crap. Anyway. The capitol looks gorgeous at any time of day. Have a marvelous weekend - I'm off to enjoy a photo shoot and the mustard museum with my sister. But not both at once.

The coming year will provide many things for me. The Mayan apocalypse may or may not be among them; personally, I'm rooting in favor of the four horsemen deciding they're just not up to destroying the world this year, and would rather stay in Valhalla and comb their ridiculous green-tentacled beards. I like where my life is going, and I'd like it to get there - wherever there  may happen to be. It's that time of year when I like to at least pretend I have some control over my life and make wise and ridiculous goals as I gallop off into the sunset of another anniversary. Here's what I'm hoping to accomplish in the next year. The first six are uncompleted items from last year - ones that I still hope to check off my list. 1. Take a creative class - painting, writing, etc. 2. Bake something extra-difficult. Then make other people eat it. Because I'm evil. 3. Get a bike - if not for myself, for Spousal Unit. 4. Volunteer somewhere - like a children's m

Another year has come and gone for me, birthday-wise. (Though it hardly feels like it - I think I'm in emotional shut-down mode for the new job and upcoming move.) I've tried to do 25 things before this birthday happened. Some of those goals were met; some, I had no reason not to meet, but they fell by the wayside. Here's the recap of the last year: 1. Take a creative class - painting, writing, etc. - Not completed. I'm hoping it will happen this year, now that I have a regular schedule I can adhere to. Still not sure what kind of class, but it will be full of creating. 2. Take kendo lessons, at least one class - Accomplished , and I was surprised by how much I was not interested in it. 3. Start sewing afghan squares together (this is the third year that damn afghan is on my list...) - Accomplished . The afghan is now 7x5 squares, and I've almost finished making all the squares. Awesome. 4. Make another shawl for myself, in a fiber I don't have a shawl of yet

I'm pretty burned out from my first week working full time in half a year. I considered just leaving you a  picture today. But you deserve better than that. Cornflower Blue has a lovely tutorial for turning a free piece of furniture into an awesome one. Cornflower Blue I don't have an iPhone, but this Captain's Log app is pretty sweet. Trekkies, engage your grocery list! Rurouni Kenshin is my favorite anime (minus Kaoru's whining, of course), and a live-action movie has been made. They say it's practically perfect in every way . Too bad it's not coming to the U.S. anytime soon. I vote that we start a petition for it. Lots of people have seen these already, but I can't get over them: gorgeous pictures submitted for the National Geographic photography contest. This is my favorite, but try out the tiger as your desktop background.

When I start a new job (or anyone, I imagine), I worry far too much about the first impression I make on new coworkers. This week has been no exception. Something like clothing style is perfectly acceptable to change on the first day, I think. On Monday, I wore dress pants, dress shoes, and a business-casual sweater (whatever the hell that means), so that I could properly gauge the office dress code. Since then, I've worn skirts every day - my personal style is dressy enough for my new place of employment, thankfully. But then there's the problem of my geekitude. It's not so much that I want  to hide my geeky, unusual nature from people - the side of me that's a Trekkie and a Star Warsian, who loves apocalyptic sci fi and plays fantasy football. (Poorly this season, but I'm still playing.) All of that stuff is rather bizarre for an office woman to partake of, according to popular thought and general office culture. I know from experience that if I let my nerdi

Sunday was my last day at the bookstore, which meant several things. 1. No more working with the occasional customer who is eager to hear about what you love to read and buys all three of your recommendations. 2. No more discount for working there. Luckily, I took advantage of both these items while I worked the weekend. I recommended American Gods, The Illumination, and The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie to the customer; I bought these for myself. The Martian Chronicles by Ray Bradbury - I've never read this, which is shameful for a scifi fan and a Bradbury fan. I'm reading this one first. Der Vorleser by Bernhard Schlink (The Reader) - Trying to keep up my German skills. I've managed to get through the first few chapters without a dictionary, so they're doing okay. (Helps that I read the English version first.) The Italian, or The Confession of the Black Penitants by Ann Radcliffe - I wrote my senior paper on this book and haven't owned

I'm putting this one together as reassurance to myself, mostly. Okay, entirely. Good things are happening to me - I just need to remember that they are good and not deadly/terrifying. 1. On Monday, I start my new job. A job in the field I want to work in, doing what I've been interested in since moving back to the Dairy State. 2. This means no more new books on a daily basis, but it also means no more lifting of 40-pound boxes, no more awkward schedules, and (I'm really, really hoping) no more of retail's standby: getting screamed at during the holiday season. 3. I don't have to walk a mile and a half to work. Nor do I have to pay for parking. 4. At the end of the month, Spousal Unit and I are moving. The new area looks to have a lower crime rate, is closer to both of our jobs, and will be more compatible with leisurely walks. 5. The new apartment itself has a deck we can be selfish about (i.e. no sharing with neighbors), a bedroom we're turning into a

Yesterday's giveaway is complete, and we have a winner. The country I had in mind was Argentina. Ana, with her last-minute switcheroo, wins the scarf - Bolivia is the only country guessed which actually borders Argentina. Yep. It's true. One last thing before I venture off into the wild yonder of my life: a before and after picture of my basil. See, this is the time of year when basil plants must succumb to their fate in these frigid regions; if I leave the plant for too long, it will turn black and shrivel and be completely useless. Instead of allowing that to happen, I'm required to temporarily become a murderer. My lovely and amazing basil, before harvesting... ...and after. That pathetic little bag of greenery next to the pot full of sticks is the whole of my harvest. I'll be lucky to get even half a cup of pesto from that. But such is the life of a non-farmer in the city. It's better than nothing, and I think it was worth it

Hey. I said I'd do another giveaway in September, didn't I? Yep. I did. But this scarf is much more appropriate for the current weather. All man-made materials, this soft, 55-inch scarf is made with love, a crochet hook, and some fiery determination. To do what, I'm not sure. But hopefully some of that will rub off if you win it. It may look like it's full of holes - and actually, it is - but it's pretty warm if you wrap it around you twice. Here's how this contest works: rather than picking a number, pick a country. The person who comes geographically closest to picking the country I have in mind will be the winner. If two people pick the same country, I will draw names out of a hat or some other round object. I've shared the country with Spousal Unit so that I can't cheat. Happy guessing!

Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov September 30 through October 6 is the 30th annual Banned Books Week , during which we Americans recognize that censorship is bad and more than just a little weird. I've worked in a bookstore for the last three BBWs, and every year I've enjoyed making an extraordinarily bizarre display featuring things like Ulysses , Beloved , and In the Night Kitchen - books that have all been banned or challenged. But something that isn't much discussed - at least, by the American Library Association, who hosts this whole thing - is that while school districts may ban these books from the classroom and libraries may ban them from their stacks, you can still get  copies of banned books. Students prohibited from reading them for class can still soak them up in other settings, and their greatest risk is that of Mom or Dad (who requested the ban in the first place) taking the book away and grounding them. In other countries, some books are actually ille