Lotta little stuff. Nada so big.
I went to Posh for their sale yesterday. Sylvia, my pusher, allowed me out of the store with at least one ball of sock yarn more than I really needed. See, I wanted to get some of that nice Elsebeth Lavold Silky Wool (a hank or two maybe) to make more Branching Outs, 'cause I thought IRL Kelly's was such fun and I figured they'd make great keep-on-hand gifts.
Well, Elsebeth Lavold is 20% off at Sylvia's crack den. I got five.**
And the sock yarn. But it has aloe vera, which makes it totally new and different** and thus worthy of a place in my stash.
Here's the damage (I posted that middle picture because my camera almost captured the rich burgundy purplocity of the rich burgundy-purple-brown yarn. If my camera can find the purple, I think it's worth encouraging it with a little good pub).
[SUMMARY: If I get hit by a bus tomorrow, who will knit all the socks and scarves from my stash?]
So as long as I had the camera out last night, I took pictures of the non-fuckme shoes I got at Nordy's last week. The girl noises shoes. Note they are satin (what the HELL was I thinking? Oh, right, I wasn't thinking, I was overtaken by cute shoe fumes and it-fits-my-fat-little-feet hormones and wasn't thinking AT ALL, just waving the credit card in the air madly and making girl noises), which means they have the lifespan of a fruit fly in my world, but what a ride we'll have while the riding's good!
The bow... oh, the bow (*moan*)
[SUMMARY: I really don't have the time, patience or cashflow for another passion, but the shoes... *moan*]
Some time in the near future, maybe on your lunch hour, I want you to go listen to this song,** which I dedicate to the ones I love.**
[SUMMARY: Sandra Boynton rocks. Or maybe waddles. You know, like a penguin.]
Here is the list of non-knitting Google searches that brought people to this blog:
horse "laurie post"
where the beer canteloupe play
watches run backward
g&h green stamps
"what killed the dinosaurs, darling"
"what killed the dinosaurs, darling"
I have no idea about that first one.
[SUMMARY: I'm a little surprised "balls" and "fuck me" didn't figure a little more prominently in that.]
I KIB'd at New Bar last night, much to the delight of Kelly the Bartendress. However, it turns out she's kind of the NASCAR fan of knitting, 'cause she mostly wanted to see what happened if I screwed up. When I failed to count to three in the universally prescribed fashion, I told her I was getting ready to tink, should she care to watch. She was so disappointed. She wanted to see a big hole in my knitting.
Kelly mixes a hell of a drink, but I worry about her around my knitting. She may have a... counter-productive attitude.
New Bar is opening a rooftop patio in June. Fast Eddie is strongly advocating water balloons for the rooftop denizens. And he mixes a hell of a drink too.
[SUMMARY: A good bar is a joy forever. A good bartender, doubly so.]
I will be experiencing a Brasilian meatfest tonight.
Yeah, I wish. If you know any Brasilian meats that'd like to meet me in a dimly-lit room for the kind of Marinhandling you just thought about, let me know.
Boy-best-friend Steve has a hankering for Rodizio, so off we go. I haven't actually seen Steve since the Super Bowl, so that'll be nice.
Not much to say there, but telling y'all gave me a chance to use the Brasilian meatfest line.
Style over substance, baby. Style over substance.
[SUMMARY: Did I really offer to give up sex for the sake of knitting a couple of blogposts back? Did anybody believe me?]
Dr. Doom's (third) birthday is this weekend. Cutest, appealingest destructo-child EVER.
[SUMMARY: My nephew did the cutest thing...]
Check this: IRL Kelley and I frequently have conversations that start like, "Have you been to..." On those occasions where the answer is "no," we do the we-have-to-do-that dance. So we decided to make a checklist so we'll get to some of it.
Then Kelley came up with the brilliant idea to each come up with ten things, write each on its own scrap of paper, then pull one out of a hat when the question of, "What do you want to do, sister?" comes up.
It appeals to the slut-for-ritual and the little kid interactive sides of me.
[SUMMARY: It's good to know where you're going. Or sometimes not.]
I was walking down the 16th Street Mall** and got in a weird (and disturbing) mental zone where I was accutely aware of panty lines all around me. Then I saw a girl with no panty lines of any kind and I'm not sure I like knowing so clearly what she's not wearing under her clothes.
[SUMMARY: You can please some of the people none of the time.]
If you go to Red's blog, you can see her pictures of Woolstock, and even a picture of yours truly amongst the knitters, standing next to that pusher, Sylvia.
In a sort of best-for-last bit, I just want y'all to know I got an EMAIL from the YARN HARLOT yesterday.
Yeah, you'd wet your pants if you got one, trust me.
See, when I told y'all I have ten projects on the needles, I *accidentally* left out maybe four. Or five. Not that you can trust me to count to four. Or five. Since the Harlot was talking UFOs, yesterday, I just commented on my dorkitude and lack of math skills and how the curly scarf is in the basket BEHIND my TiVi chair, so I can't see it so in a solipsistic sort of world it doesn't exist (Schroedinger's Scarf)... anyway. I said that I simply didn't mean to lie.
She replied to say "You're not lying. You're being selective in your admission."
Now, if only she could explain my stash to Sex Toy, we might be getting somewhere.
**FOOTNOTE (asterisked): Sylvia-the-Pusher kept reminding me that if I bought ten skeins of something, I'd get an additional discount.
**FOOTNOTE (asterisked): Sock yarn is not simply sock yarn. There are shades of sock yarn. There is sock yarn technology. That's my story and I'm sticking with it.
**FOOTNOTE (asterisked): If you were sullen in the 80s, you might get "Personal Penguin" dovetailing into the tune of "Personal Jesus." There is nothing wrong with this, unless you're horrified to find you think very much like me.
**FOOTNOTE (asterisked and almost forgotten): This would be most of you guys, in case you didn't get that.
**FOOTNOTE (asterisked): When the 16th Street Mall was first installed in downtown Denver, the Denver Post had a contest to name it. Much had been made of it being a mile long in the mile high city and on 16th Street, so, naturally, they wanted a name that wasn't so trite as to use any of those devices.
It has never been anything but the 16th Street Mall.