Saturday, July 31, 2004
On a t-shirt at Target (approx):
If you love someone, let him go.
If he returns, he was meant to be yours.
If not, he's with me.
On a panhandler:
Running for President,
need campaign funds.
Abby, aka the big sack sweater from SnB. Mauve Araucania Nature Wool, doubled. Thank you, Jenna. I made a small, but potentially distructive error on the collar that needs to be fixed before I model it for you, but anyway it's July. In the Mile High City.
A really, really wide afghan (well, perhaps queen-size comforter)that I only work on when I'm chilly. It's crochet, which oddly I prefer for blankets.
Proof that I have begun Sophie. It promises to be so cute and so quick, what excuse have I to procrastinate?
A red kimono sweater for a new person of my acquaintance. For some reason, the ketchup-red of the sweater will not register on my camera.
I can't decide if this is bold and cute, or an experiment gone horribly awry. Send help!
A trash bag of rug cotton waiting for me to make it into...rugs.
Log-cabin baby blanket. Stash reduction.
I purposely didn't give you the best shot of this. "cause it's a dog, and I don't want to lower your opinion of me. It was a baby cardi, but soon it will just be three balls of yarn.
Am I caught up on knitting content?
Wednesday, July 28, 2004
You used to ask people what they thought about things, but quite
recently you've decided to just do stuff without asking nicely. You really want to go
to the mountains, but for some reason, people won't let you, mostly because they won't let
acquire any nice sweaters. In the meantime, you're avoiding alcohol and pork and trying
to balance eating right with not falling behind in your competition with your next-door
the Country Quiz at the href="http://bluepyramid.org">Blue Pyramid
This is just so random, and just ever so slightly me on a wild day, that I had to post it. Pakistan? Really?
The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Sixth Level of Hell - The City of Dis!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:
|Purgatory (Repenting Believers)||Very Low|
|Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)||Very Low|
|Level 2 (Lustful)||Very High|
|Level 3 (Gluttonous)||High|
|Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)||Low|
|Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)||Very High|
|Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)||Very High|
|Level 7 (Violent)||High|
|Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)||Very High|
|Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)||Moderate|
Take the Dante's Inferno Hell Test
I'm so bad.
You would not believe all the questions I answered "yes" to.
Friday, July 23, 2004
The first thing Pman said when he saw Alice was "Alice Bobs Her Hair!" and that of course, is why I love him. Do it, do it--quote (or paraphrase) Fitzgerald at me and watch me melt.
Friday, July 16, 2004
Other things on my Permanent To-Don't List:
Shopping at Wal-Mart
Camping with my parents when they say the main attraction of the site is the "fishing"
Dye my hair blond
Vacation with my in-laws
Throw myself a birthday party
How come I can think of all the horrible things I've done when I'm away, but this sad list is all I can come up with now? How surprising is it, really, that I won't ever vacation with my in-laws again?
Chalk it up to the last disturbing thing I saw last night. Immediately before turning off the TV, we caught a snippet of Shirley Temple singing "Animal Crackers." This is not intrinsically disturbing, but I have really confused, icky feelings about Shirley. Sure, she was super-cavity-inducing-sweet, not to mention she bears more than a passing resemblance to Alice. It's because of that embryonic cuteness that I find her adult career as head Republicunt so scary. Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be conservatives.
My French Market Bag is really kind of a French Quarter Bag.
I have more balls in the air than Flying Wallendas.
I'm finishing up a project for Magknits, so you can't see it quite yet.
I'm selling some Frenchy flip-flops on eBay--search Ready Teddy for the listing if you're curious.
Ready Teddy is the t-shirt company I'm starting; it's not quite off the ground and that's why I'm selling some very cute flip-flops I would otherwise hog for moi. I need capital, baby.
Does it sound like I'm scrounging? Well, I am.
Tuesday, July 06, 2004
First, a few weekends ago, I had the distinct pleasure of meeting up with Laura, otherwise known as La, half of the crimefighting duo JenLa. As you may know, Laura was out my way because of tragic family business,so I felt doubly priveleged to get some of her time.
(I have given my condolences privately, so you are only getting the fun stuff. I'm discreet, not shallow.)
Can I just say that Laura has, like, the nicest family ever? And Laura is so funny, really, just as funny as she is on her blog. I think we both enjoyed having company during the explanations to her brothers that meeting a knitblogger is just like a blind date, only not creepy or scary. I hung out at her family's place for dinner and knitting, which I guess would have been terribly awkward if they weren't all so damn nice. I got to see the projects that Laura was working on, Red Vines for her nephew (what a doll!), Grape Ape, and her Salt Peanuts for her mother-in-law (right?) which just intensifies my cravings for some Bergamo of my own. I don't have any pictures, but my camera is for shit after sundown anyway.
By the way, Laura, if I mentioned that our preschool director is moving on and I have a lot to do in hiring the next one, well...I went to drop off an application at one lady's house and saw the single most appalling, amusing thing EVER. Now, you'd think that the framed, matted, cross-stitched religious pictures (Jesus on the cross, the Last Supper) on every wall would have alerted my spidey-sense, but no, I was cheerfully oblivious to this woman's total insanity until she brought out her SCRAPBOOKED RESUME.
I am so not kidding. Puffy, upholstered cover and all. Her transcripts, day-care license, workshop certificates, all pasted in with pre-cut shapes, ribbons and pictures of her grandkids and the kids she used to watch. Have you ever had one of those moments when you would literally chew off your own foot to get the hell out of there? It was all I could do not to run from her door to my car. The relief I felt upon leaving was like the last day of school, sneaking out of your parents' house, and getting up and leaving in the middle of the night after a disastrous one-night-stand, all rolled into one.
Okay, I owe about a ton of pictures, too, but it'll have to wait until later today. Pman is working from home this week, which means he'll do enough work to not get fired, which cuts my computer time by about 87%. Thanks for hangin' in there with me, folks!