Blue Period†

Knitting. Ah, yes. Despite all lack of evidence, I still dance with yarn.

I've done a little picking on Brother's Father's Day Arrrgyles, deconstructing them so I can re-do them in a way that makes sense.

But it's not all about the tearing down. Or even the rebuilding.‡

I've been doing a little creating too.§

[SUMMARY: Not claiming god status, just proving I'm still a knitter.]

These little blue blobs¶ are Malabrigo Slippers from Coco Knits.

They are knit of Malabrigo# in... um... blue,†† size 8 needles. The pattern is pretty cool, with no seaming.

I can tell you from experience, however, that you can't put the toe of the upper over the heel of the sole and hope it will all work out.‡‡




As you can probably see, I haven't woven in the ends yet, and these could use a little blocking.§§ Also, I'm going to put the little acorn embellishment on them.¶¶ But you get the general idea.##




So that's one project.

[SUMMARY: Now on to the bonus round.]

Oh, dear. Sylvia is bad. In a good way. Bad for me. Sort of.

I just couldn't resist. It's Alchemy's Silken Straw.

I'm pretty sure a camera% can't do justice to the colour or the shiny.




It's absolutely stunning in person. It feels oddly like raffia††† -- dry and smooth, but not at all silky.

I bought it mostly because I was dying to see how it knits up.




[SUMMARY: Ass.]

It's pretty enough, but what a colossal pain. The tape structure completely disintegrates with the slightest handling, devolving into a dozen or so fine threads, each with a mind of its own.^

You can see one of the escapees in this picture.




Silken Straw and I started out on the wrong foot, granted.

I bought it from Syl on Drunken Knitting night,‡‡‡ along with size 5 Addis because I had to start knitting *right now*. Couldn't wait for a swift and a winder.§§§ So I laid the hank out neatly on the table and within minutes, I had embarked on an adventure in physics that defied patience.

I actually had to chew the yarn apart at one point because it had looped in on itself and somehow gotten spun one side between random, running silken threads...

But I finished. Ended up with two balls,¶¶¶ but I finished.

And I cast on.

As tight as I knit, the size 5 needles were too big. So I frogged it all and cast on with size 4 needles when I got home. I now speculate that the fours the yarn calls for are too big.

Part of it is my own ineptitude. I have twice lost stitches with no evidence of how. No drops, no runs, no odd lumps, no misplaced yarnovers. Just one less stitch than I actually need to do the lace pattern.

The first time, I frogged. Oh, I tried to tink, but those tiny, rebellious threads thwarted me.

The second time, I said, "fuck it"### and just made a new stitch. It's barely noticable. We'll see if I can maintain long enough to finish this scarf.

[SUMMARY: We are counting on my patience and good will here. *snarf*]

By the way? It knits up... oddly. It's dry, but not rough. It has no drape at all because it has no weight. I'm still dying to find out what it does when there's a couple of feet of knitting instead of just the few inches I've been able to manage so far.

Heh.

Balls.

Inches.

Heheheh.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Which is kinda funny because I'm actually on my period. I know Brother won't laugh, but y'all chicas should chuckle a little. And if not, well... I think I'm funny.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Why do I suddenly want to play with Legos?

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): As much as you can give me credit for creating when I'm following someone else's pattern.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): For my grandmother, whose feet have grown from a dainty size 4 to what seems to be an embarrassing size 5. I wish I'd thought to get a picture of my big ol' paws next to them (Cat for Scale was asleep upstairs) so you could get a real idea of the Barbie-esque nature of these shoes.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Duh.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): No, really... duh.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): You're rolling your eyes with the duh of it all, aren't you?

§§FOOTNOTE (knit... purl...): I'm not sure how to do that. I think stuffing them with washcloths when they're damp is the way to go.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (headless chickens): Red. Red acorns.

##FOOTNOTE (two... two... two pounds in one!): Which is, "Marin is still knitting."

%FOOTNOTE (percented): At least my camera.

†††FOOTNOTE (triple-crossed? Really?): Not that raffia is that odd, but silk generally shouldn't feel like raffia.

^FOOTNOTE (careted): This little silk thread went to market, this little silk thread stayed home...

‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (all in a row...): Which may have been my first problem.

§§§FOOTNOTE (we have the beginnings of i-cord here): I'm not sure whether beer exacerbated the winding problem or helped calm me down when it all went pear-shaped.

¶¶¶FOOTNOTE (triple play!): Go ahead. I'll wait here while you finish giggling.

###FOOTNOTE (big numbers): Out loud. To the cat.

Secret Pal 12 Questionnaire

1. What is/are your favorite yarn/s to knit with? What fibers do you absolutely *not* like?

Soft, plied wools. I love bamboo blends and silk blends, but generally don't like plant fibres. I'm not big on unplied and really fuzzy yarns.

2. What do you use to store your needles/hooks in?

The floor, a water glass, or (in the case of my interchangable needles) in the cases provided.

3. How long have you been knitting & how did you learn? Would you consider your skill level to be beginner, intermediate or advanced?

Technically for 30 years. Devoutly for, say, eight. I believe I would call myself advanced, though I don't necessarily like to knit really hard stuff just because I can.

4. Do you have an Amazon or other online wish list?

No.

5. What's your favorite scent?

Violet, lime, pomegranate... I HATE ylang-ylang.

6. Do you have a sweet tooth? Favorite candy?

Sort of, but I'm trying to cut back. I actually prefer salty stuff.

7. What other crafts or Do-It-Yourself things do you like to do? Do you spin?

I don't spin. I don't intend to spin. I do like to dye (little though I've done it). I dabble here and there in other things, but wouldn't consider anything but knitting a solid hobby.

8. What kind of music do you like? Can your computer/stereo play MP3s? (if your buddy wants to make you a CD)

Gothic, Irish folk, certain alternative, certain hip-hop, minor keys... I don't generally care for R&B, blues, jazz or country.

9. What's your favorite color(s)? Any colors you just can't stand?

Purple, red, chocolate, green. I'm extremely picky about orange and I like almost no yellows.

10. What is your family situation? Do you have any pets?

Nobody here but me and my cat. And this lamp.

11. Do you wear scarves, hats, mittens or ponchos?

Yes, no, yes, never again.

12. What is/are your favorite item/s to knit?

Socks, scarves, lace.

13. What are you knitting right now?

Socks, scarves, lace. Oh, and a sweater and a couple of tanks/camis. Maybe some mitts from "Knitting New Mittens and Gloves." Maybe a dinosaur soon.

14. Do you like to receive handmade gifts?

YES PLEASE!

15. Do you prefer straight or circular needles? Bamboo, aluminum, plastic?

Circular, aluminum. I love my Knit Picks Harmony needles (both wood and metal).

16. Do you own a yarn winder and/or swift?

Both.

17. How old is your oldest UFO?

How old am I?

18. What is your favorite holiday?

Halloween.

19. Is there anything that you collect?

Orchids, skulls, pigs, pop-up books.

20. Any books, yarns, needles or patterns out there you are dying to get your hands on? What knitting magazine subscriptions do you have?

I have all the books. Seriously. I love patterns that give me a stitch pattern -- like cables or lace. I subscribe to Interweave Knits.

21. Are there any new techniques you'd like to learn?

Not that I can think of.

22. Are you a sock knitter? What are your foot measurements?

Oh, yes. I wear a size 8.5-9 shoe.

23. When is your birthday?

June 27.

24. Are you on Ravelry? If so, what's your ID?

TheAntiM

Fashionista Report

So Hans was in my office and mentioned a luau he attended in Hawaii wherein there were many couples with matching Hawaiian print sundress/shirt combos.

"No."

"I'm not lyin'."

"Seriously?"

"Totally seriously. Not like colour-coordinated, but like the same print."

And I speculated such things must be sold as matching outfits. Surely these people† didn't all just stumble upon matching outfits in separate sections of Macy's.

So I Googled "matching Hawaiian outfits."

[SUMMARY: Nothing is outside the realm of Google.]

Sure 'nough.

And it's not just couples that can dress alike...





Hans and I may buy matching outfits and "accidentally" wear them to work on the same day.

[SUMMARY: Some jokes are funnier in my head than you'll ever find them.]

*************

Breaking News!

As I was typing this mocking, slightly snarky little post, a guy walked by on 18th wearing tailored khaki shorts two inches below his knee; a turquoise and red, long sleeved, Hawaiian print shirt‡; a camo bushwhacker hat§; big, clonky dark brown sandals...

...carrying a briefcase.

Awesome.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Many, many people, from what Hans tells me

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Tucked in.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): One side snapped up, chin strap flapping around his neck.

My Hometown

Gunnison, Colorado - on National Geographic's list of the top places to live and play.

New Favourite Word

MAMMOGRAPHIC

As in:

Dear Marin†:

We are pleased to inform you that your recent mammogram showed no mammographic evidence of cancer.‡

Nice news§ and fun to say!

Tomorrow will bring yarn. That will make it all even better.

Though it's hard right now to imagine anything better than the word "mammographic."


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): They always call me "Marin."

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Doesn't that sound like legalese? "Allegedly, there is no irrefutable mammographic evidence beyond a reasonable doubt of cancer within the normal parameters..."

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): This isn't a post about how my mammogram was clear. I knew there was nothing wrong. It really is a post about how much that word tickles me. But nice news anyway.

When Did They† Stop Playing Songs at Dance Clubs?

And why didn't I get the memo?

[SUMMARY: This is me, this is the rest of the universe...]

Saturday night I went to a dance club for the first time in two years.‡

Maybe I shouldn't be surprised.

See, Tani, Jaxon and I went to Studio 54 in Vegas and *they* didn't play full songs. They'd run the first verse and a chorus and then stop and go onto the next fractional song. Many was the time the full import of an opening hook would sink in, we'd jump over to the dance floor and the music would already have moved on without us.§

I kept shrieking, "Hey! I *liked* that song! Where did the song go?"¶

I figured it was a Vegas thing, some sort of latter-day Studio 54 conceit.

Turns out it's a worldwide epidemic.

[SUMMARY: Doctor, doctor, give me the news.]

I can't believe my sweet little Denver would stoop to such short-attention-grabbing, MTV-sound-bite, focus-of-a-gnat, video game blip, instant gratification, short-term-benefitting way of doing business.

[SUMMARY: This time, it's personal.]

What's more, they're now doing mashups.%

You probably know all about mashups.

You've probably been spinning mashups at your parties for four or five years. You probably do mashups during your lunch hour for fun. They probably have Disney Mashup Makers in Happy Meals now.

But I didn't know.

[SUMMARY: I'm a pig-licker, not a song-masher.]

In case you don't know, a mashup is when the DJ takes, say, the hook from one song, the recognisable beat from another, then plays the singing and basic melody from yet another over that.

Some of it is brilliant. Some of it sucks. Most of it made me sit there, slack-jawed,# unravelling the songs in my own private game of "Name That Tune."

[SUMMARY: As challenging as a crossword puzzle, but you don't need a pencil.]

My poor little date†† just wanted to dance.

I love to dance. I'm all about shaking my ass.‡‡ But I don't love to dance because I love to dance so much as I love to dance because the mad beat drives me to dance.

The music is where it's at for me.

So when poor little date told me about this club where they play a lot of 70s, 80s, 90s and after midnight some current hip-hop, I thought, "Cool!"

I never thought they'd play 70's, 80's and 90s all in one song for about a minute and a half, then go onto something I didn't recognise.§§ Like Studio 54, by the time I realised it was a song I liked and wanted to dance, we'd get on the floor and they'd start on something I didn't know and didn't want to dance to.

Oh, I powered on for poor little date's sake, dancing to a lot of bullshit train wreck kinda stuff "as long as we're here," but I fear dance clubs are ruined for me.

[SUMMARY: For I am old and feeble and wield the power of the knowledge of cassette tapes.]

And don't even get me started on 22-year-olds getting all jiggy with Cutting Crew.

Mixed with Tone Loc.

And Paula Abdul.

And Aerosmith.



Hey, I knit something this weekend...¶¶


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): U.S. Dept. of They

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Almost exactly. I know this because it was Mother's Day weekend 2006.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Generally something truly irritating like, "My Baby Takes the Morning Train." Never something even better like Prince.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): I'm sure both Tani and Jax were very pleased to be touring Vegas with the un-hip and the loud-of-mouth.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): The music kind. Not the software kind. At least as far as I know.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): I'm *such* a good date.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Nobody you know.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): To quote a famous cousin I once knew.

§§FOOTNOTE (you spin me right round): Mixed with three other songs I didn't recognise.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (sticks and balls heheheh): Stick with what you know, no pun intended. Oh, look! Still a knitblog!

Ass

TTHFCIF

Ha! Made you look!†

I did laundry Monday night.‡ While folding my favourite pair of jeans, I noticed they were getting a little worn, a little thin, a little fragile. Right at the point of my butt.§ Right where the pocket gets pulled every time it's used.

[SUMMARY: This is the set-up.]

Last night, I went to "see a movie"¶ with Laurie,# and when we parted, I decided to run over to Old Navy and get a back-up pair against the inevitable demise of said favourite jeans.

[SUMMARY: This is the suspense.]

I got home and flicked on the TiVi to see the Grey's Anatomy season finale.

[SUMMARY: This is the lull before the storm.]

I was thinking about my new jeans, thinking about my old jeans... when I decided to feel my butt and find out exactly where that worn spot was.††

[SUMMARY: This is where the music swells.]

There was a hole. All the way down the side of the pocket closest to my ass crack. I wasn't feeling flannel-soft worn denim, I was feeling naked ass.‡‡

[SUMMARY: Crash! Freeze! Close-up!]

I spent a certain amount of time trying to determine if I could feel the air on my naked ass,§§ hanging out there, to figure if the jeans had *just* ripped,¶¶ but I never could make an educated guess.%

Hans swears he would be nice enough to tell me if I had a big ol' ass rip in my jeans.

I maintain he may not have noticed.##

[SUMMARY: My denial is comforting to me.]

So this brings about the age-old philosophical question: If jeans rip in an office and nobody notices, do I still make an ass of myself?

Next week: conducting the all-important Schroedinger's Ass experiment.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): The weekly meeting of the Brainless Twelvehood Club will now come to odor.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): I knat all day Sunday and usually I do laundry while I'm knitting so I can pretend I'm doing chores. Apparently, I was too lazy to knit and let the washer run at the same time on Sunday.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): OK, yeah, my butt doesn't really have that many points, but you know what I mean.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): After skipping the movie in favour of happy hour, we have decided that "see a movie" is now code for "cheap drinks."

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Of Suburban Sedation Crew fame. Oh, come on... you remember the Suburban Sedation Crew. How 'bout this? Tommy's Aunt Laurie.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I was in the privacy of my own home. I've done worse in the privacy of my own home.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Thong.

§§FOOTNOTE (dangerous curves!): And got so distracted I had to rewind Grey's Anatomy. Twice.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (cheek to cheek): Probably due to some world-class La-Z-Boy wallowing.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): Though I'm sure Cat for Scale was wildly entertained watching me pacing the living room, sitting, standing, waving my butt around, muttering, "Yeah. Yeah, I'd notice that. Wouldn't I? Wait... no. Maybe not. How cold was my office today?"

##FOOTNOTE (two pounds of ass in a one-pound bag): Hans is 6'4". He spends most of his time in front of me. And I wouldn't be at all hurt (*sniff*) if nobody even looked at my ass to notice if it was hanging out of my jeans.

Dan Quayle?

Nope.

Turns out "-es" is an acceptable plural of tornado.

*whew*

Two Days of Spring and Now This...

TORNADO WATCH OUTLINE UPDATE FOR WT 334
NWS STORM PREDICTION CENTER NORMAN OK
1125 AM MDT THU MAY 22 2008
TORNADO WATCH 334 IS IN EFFECT UNTIL 800 PM MDT FOR THE
FOLLOWING LOCATIONS
COC001-005-013-014-017-031-035-039-059-061-063-069-073-075-087-095-115-121-123-125-230200-/O.NEW.KWNS.TO.A.0334.080522T1725Z-080523T0200Z/CO.

COLORADO COUNTIES INCLUDED ARE
ADAMS
ARAPAHOE
BOULDER
BROOMFIELD
CHEYENNE
DENVER
DOUGLAS
ELBERT
JEFFERSON
KIOWA
KIT
CARSON
LARIMER
LINCOLN
LOGAN
MORGAN
PHILLIPS
SEDGWICK
WASHINGTON
WELD
YUMA

Tornadoes east of Boulder.

Hey... I'm east of Boulder.

Las Arañas en la Pelicula Bailan

Or, as we say on Thursdays here in Piglatnia, "Oslay Rañasay enay alay Eliculapay Ailanbay."%

The other day, I dropped off a couple of NPR maps for my dad and one of his little girlfriends.† Heading around the corner to the back, I saw a mass of yellow speckles wafting in a spider web on the downspout of his rain gutter.

At first I thought it was pollen, and I blew on it a little to see if it would fall out of the web and it started crawling.

Spiders.

Tiny yellow spiders.

Hundreds of 'em.




Now, I am just this side of terrified when it comes to spiders, but I think they're elegant and beautiful creatures, so I watched them for awhile then went home, skin crawling all the way.

Hi, Mom!



[SUMMARY: I am a complex and unpredictable creature. Or maybe just weird.]

*************

Hans pointed these ladies out to me. I'm waffling between them being exact negative images of each other or could-they-be-more-different, but they do have similar metallic purses.




[SUMMARY: It is our similarities and not our differences that bring us together.‡]

*************

There are many vintage Guinness posters on the walls at Patrick Carroll's. The knitters were in the back room§ last week and sat right across from this one.

We all took it to mean there was a Guinness hidden picture game in the offing. We spent a fair amount of time going, "Is that a Guinness there... in the lobster tail? Wait! Look at the crab's claw..."

I have since decided the crab and the lobster are just really pissed at the fish for bringing a zucchini instead of a Guinness.




[SUMMARY: Who the hell mistakes a zucchini for a Guinness?]

*************

I was at Target the other night. This goose just stood there and watched me¶ put my new summer bedding# in the car. I thought that was worth a photo.††




[SUMMARY: I may be running out of viable infotainment already.]

*************

When I walked over to Sylvia's Tuesday night, pre-Drunken Knitting, I saw this:




It made me sing‡‡ that song from Sesame Street. You know...

♪One of these things is not like the other.
One of these things just doesn't belong.♪
Can you tell me which thing is not like the other
before I finish this song?♪♪

[SUMMARY: ...black ...black ...black ...purple! run! run!]

*************

As your reward for putting up with this lame and disjointed pig-licking, I now give you a movie short.§§ It's the AntiM Productions classic, "Dance of the Crawly Scourge."





[SUMMARY: Ang Lee, eat your heart out.]


%FOOTNOTE (percented): Admit it... Spanish translated to Pig Latin is going above and beyond the call of duty. And so multicultural, it's practically a petrie dish.

†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Not snarky. OK, a little snarky. Hey, give me a little buffer. Some of you are used to your parents dating. I'm not even used to my dad having *friends*.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Later, when I say, "opposites attract," I'd like you to look the other way.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): With the pool table, the shuffleboard and the oddly obnoxious people.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Until I grabbed the camera to take his picture, then he turned his head as if camera shy. Really, though -- before he turned his head he was so perfectly symmetrical and so still, I almost thought he was a decoy or some sort of plastic garden decoration.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): There's a story. Isn't there always a story? And aren't I usually more than willing to tell you? Anyway... I have the big fluffy comforter covered by the rosy-pink duvet...




...but it's getting too heavy for the weather.^ This was not a big surprise, as it happens every year, but last year I bought a thin little quilt from Target. It was rosy-pink and had ecru crewel jigsaw stitching all over it (so I thought) and I thought it would be perfect with my existing stuff. Only I got it home and unrolled it from its sleeping bag-like state and found it had a BRIGHT orange stripe in the middle. I lived with it for a summer, but hated it with a passion. So I decided to go for something new this year and donate the BRIGHT orange stripe to a worthy charity.

^FOOTNOTE WITHIN A FOOTNOTE (careted): Considering we had two days of spring this year. Seriously... it snowed and snowed and snowed, then it was 70 degrees for a couple of days, then *bam!* 80! 90!

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): And I'm sure the half-dozen bemused shoppers watching me take the picture agreed.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Sometimes I don't think, I sing. It's charming. I'm sure the half-dozen bemused bikers listening to me sing agreed.

§§FOOTNOTE (what a tangled web): Sometimes I take movies of odd things. It's artsy. I'm sure the half-dozen hundred yellow spiders agreed.

Aw, C'mon... Just a Little Slurp

I have some pig-licking good tidbits today... and a whole slew† of pig-licking photos for tomorrow!

[SUMMARY: You are so excited!]

*************

I heard a stoopid classic on the radio yesterday:

The news break on The Ride Home‡ included a story about how an advocacy group is calling the US Mint discriminatory against blind people because all US paper currency is the same size.

There was a sound bite from a spokesperson explaining that the US is the only country with prejudiced paper money.

Then the news caster said,§ "Proposed changes include making bills differents sizes and different colours."

[SUMMARY: Revel in the bad joke.%]

*************

Patrick Carroll's, current home turf of Drunken Knitting, is under new management.

Cute Christopher left at the end of April to assist with the opening of a bar for which he'll be general manager and part owner, leaving Shylin in charge of the PC.

Shy sat down with me for a moment last night and told me she's thinking of making Tuesday Ladies Night.

I suddenly feel very powerful.

[SUMMARY: Continuing delusions of grandeur.]

*************

When I was just a little girl, my mother caught me talking to myself¶ in the corner of our empty dining room# one day.

"What's your name, little girl?"

"Marin."

"Marion?"

"No. Marin."

"Marilyn?"

"No. Marin.

"Mary Ann?"

"No. Marin. Rhymes with Sharon and Karen."

"Oh... Marin! That's a pretty name."

"Thank you."††

I still go through a small version of this now and then, but the current version is people who pronounce it Mahrin‡‡ even though they've never seen it in print.

Think about it: if you meet me, and our mutual friend Sue introduces us...

"Dave, have you met Marin? Marin this is Dave."

And then you never got an email or a letter or saw me on the wall in the post office or anything and suddenly started calling me Mahrin... why? Why make the giant leap from the phonetics you know to the wild and unexplored land of potential spellings and BACK to a mispronunciation?

[SUMMARY: Dave's birthday party was hard on me for more than just flirtopause.§§]

*************

Thanks to Mary Kay, I am now aware of a Canadian game show¶¶ for kids called "Don't Lick the Pig."

[SUMMARY: There is nothing new in the world.]

*************

From Google Analytics keyword searches:

billboard installation
carry-on snakes
landmanning
pillars of the earth sex scenes
sick and twisted blog
compulsion by calvin klein
where is the tuaca bar located at the pepsi center

[SUMMARY: I'm clearly out of content here.]

*************

I'm out. Happy Wednesday, ev'rybahdy!


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Slough?

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): With Dave and Lois.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): I am not making this up.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): If I may be the voice of reason here (shut up), all stupidity around the colour issue aside, how long would it take to get all the current homogenously-sized currency out of circulation? I'm not unsympathetic, but blind people have been coping with this one way or another for ages and there is just no practical solution on a US Mint kind of level. Think of how much it would cost us taxpayers to put such a measure in place... only to have it largely useless until all the old currency is gone.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Two thoughts: If it had been twenty years later and if my mother had been so inclined as to keep up with horror movie trends, she might have had some concerns of a sort of Damien/Poltergeist/Village vibe with a tiny blonde child talking to the corner of a room. Second: You may draw your own conclusions from the fact that Mom wasn't actually worried about me talking to myself, just curious what I might be saying.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Until about 2000, we never had anything in our dining rooms except the piano. We ate in the kitchen. In 2000-ish, Mom found a table on sale at American Furniture Warehouse that she simply couldn't pass up, so the dining room got a horizontal surface on which to store books and clothes and stuff.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Note how polite.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): As in "mar." As in "scar for life."

§§FOOTNOTE (I am SO confused): Yes, Ange, that is a white girl problem.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (two mints in one!): Allie, I'm disappointed. As my number one Canadian, I count on you to educate me about these thing.

Sylvia, Big Time

Did you see today's Yarn Harlot?

Did you see the lovely scarf she made?

Did you happen to notice the yarn for the lovely scarf came from my dear friend Sylvia,† of Posh, a Yarn Boutique (bka Sylvia's House of Fuzzy Crack) fame?

I get a degree closer to Kevin Bacon every day.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Love you, Syl! *mwah!* Have your people call my people!

What Hill? Where? I Don't Remember Any Hill...

It appears I have reached an interesting new phase of life.†

Saturday was Dave's 40th birthday.‡ I like Dave. Besides, I'd long heard rumours about wild ice luge shot fests at Dave's birthday parties, so I said I'd go.

Several of the Coral Room crew were going to be there -- I figured I'd have someone to talk to.

[SUMMARY: Good figuring.]

I showed up about 9:00,§ handed Dave a bottle of gin and a crossword puzzle book¶ and grabbed a beer.

And stood in the corner.

By myself.%

Quietly.

[SUMMARY: Hell freezes more often than you think.]

See, no matter what you think you know about me, I'm shy around people I don't know. Some of that is just my personality, some of it is a well-founded fear that I may make wildly anti-feminist remarks or use the word "fuck" inappropriately.#

So when one of the revelers in a very vocal group gathered 'round the tiki bar caught my eye and said, "Hey! I'm James! What're you doing over there... taking notes?" I welcomed the chance to no longer be a stranger.††

I bellied up to the bar and we chatted and we got some flirt on‡‡ when a chick started rooting around in a barrel of ice in front of the bar, and then James said, "My wife -- that oompaloompa there -- hates it when I get fast."

"Well, James, you may not have gotten the memo, but 'fast' isn't on the top of your wife's honey-do list."

And it was funny and we all laughed.

Similar scenarios played themselves out over the next couple of hours, with some guy coming up and putting an arm around me and introducing himself and that some guy flirting a little and that some guy laughing at my back-at-you innuendo and that some guy introducing his wife.

I'm safe.

[SUMMARY: No longer a threat to others, only a threat to myself.]

Apparently, I have reached a place in my life where I am no longer the slightest threat to the sanctity of marriage.§§ It was fun, but I feel like I have to re-learn all the rules. I can't bank on eye contact and touch and sexy little suggestions being *flirting*. They may just be... banter.

[SUMMARY: Life is just a game of Calvinball.]

I guess I'm in a place where I'm technically fertile, but nobody wants to test the theory.

I'm in flirtopause.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Like 40 and single with a cat wasn't interesting enough.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Dave was supposed to be my competition in the spelling bee, but got his head stuck in a bottle of Cuervo and didn't make it.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Dave greeted me by telling me the last wave of kids had just left. My timing was excellent.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): The gin? Bombay Sapphire. The crossword puzzle book? Because Dave brings the Onion crossword to the Coral Room most Saturdays and he won't let me help him. "Dave. Hey, Dave... are you stuck, Dave? Can I help you out there, Dave?"

"Leave me alone. I don't need your help."

I picked a random crossword puzzle from the middle of the book and worked it -- in pen -- with a note on the top of the page that said, "I helped!"

I think I'm funny.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): I don't know if I can give you the full scope of how pathetic it was. Almost everybody was standing around in groups of 4, 5, 6, talking merrily away, but there was one guy all by himself. I think I may even have met him once before -- he looked familiar. About the time I settled on my place to stand, he was getting food, so I decided not to interrupt his dinner. Then he was throwing his plate away, so I decided not to interrupt that. Then he was sitting, staring into space and I decided not to interrupt that. Then he got up and walked into the house and I stood there, a pitiable wuss.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): If you don't think there's an appropriate use for the word "fuck," you are at the wrong blog.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): And test the waters on where to appropriately use "fuck" with a new friend.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Casual, funny flirting involving a bunch of double entendre revolving around the word "fast"

§§FOOTNOTE (twisted. Sick and twisted): Not that I ever really was anyway, 'cause... y'know... saint and all that.

Where Do You Want to Go Today?

TTHFCIF

Remember the good old days† when there was a crane out my window and arms on the 1999 building?




Then the crane started to sink and the arms disappeared.




For awhile, the crane hid behind the building on the Broadway side and I saw it every morning on my way in‡...




...but couldn't see it from my window anymore.

Now it's just a bunch of armless, craneless buildings and I have to amuse myself watching the parking lot attendant and billboard installations.




[SUMMARY: Tears in my ears.]

Speaking of...

We had another whirlwind billboard swapping a couple of weeks ago. Remember when this went up, mere days after the Think on Your Feet billboard?




Well, it was replaced by this§:




Less than a week later, *that* was replaced by this:




Hans and I agree this is our favourite billboard yet, and probably the most effective.¶

[SUMMARY: Apparently I'm not *that* busy.]

Man. Wahoo's Friday can't come soon enough. I missed dinner last night# and I'm starving. Further updates as the situation warrants.

Meanwhile, you have a lovely weekend.

Don't forget to eat.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Last week.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Rush hour travellers love it when you stop to take pictures at an intersection. And by "you," I mean, "I."

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Hans and I figure this brilliant (I'm being sarcastic -- I think if you want to get across the idea of "adventure," you don't post a billboard full of plants in neat rows) ad was probably put forth by the same marketing company that came up with the slogan for Mesa County (of which Grand Junction is the county seat) "Many faces, many places. One community ~ Mesa County." Hans and I figure we could open our own marketing firm and take Mesa County by storm. We couldn't do any worse.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Though it does seem to feature a heart fashioned out of spattered blood or maybe an exploding heart, which you'd think wouldn't be that compelling.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): The wine might have had something to do with that.

Babel-Fished

You Are 36% Evil

A bit of evil lurks in your heart, but you hide it well. In some ways, you are the most dangerous kind of evil.

How Evil Are You?

I could've told you that.

Cop-Out Thursday

Or, if we're going with Pig Latin Thursdays: Opcay-outay Ursdaythay.

Ouyay Aray 36% Vileay

A itbau ofay vileay urkslay inay ouryay earthay, utbay ouyay idehay itay ellway. Inay omesay aysway, ouyay aray etahy ostmay angerousday indkay ofay vileay.

Owhay Vileay Aray Ouyay?

2% of Your RDA of Fibre

I love this hat. I want to make my own version.




That dip in the bottom is a brim.† Pat says it keep it from pushing his glasses off his nose.‡

Mostly I like the zig-zag of the columns of stitches. Anybody know how to do that? Do you suppose it's like single-stitch cables where you knit the second stitch, then the first stitch?




[SUMMARY: Pat's hat. Flat hat. Hat off Pat. Pat that hat.]

Guess what I'm doing this afternoon?§

I'm helping Sylvia with a needle felting class at Posh.¶ The Front Range Knitting Guild or Group or something like that is coming on a field trip and I'm going to help.#

[SUMMARY: Still a knitblog!]


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Now, now... don't call Pat a dip. He's not even *wearing* the hat.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Pat also didn't bat an eye at me immortalising his hat. He fully gets that I want to make my own. Yay, Pat.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Go on, guess. I'll wait here.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): You know... because of my mad needle felting skillz.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Well, I plan to help. I may be no help at all. I may be useless. Worse... I may just get completely in the way. But I certainly intend to help. Ah, the road to hell...

p.s. --

It's snowing today.

Silver Lining

Literally.

You may remember last year's Fashion Denver, um... palooza... at the Oriental Theatre.†

You may remember my little slurp of the Vamp girls.‡

Well, I didn't slurp nearly hard enough.

I completely failed to mention how their totally sweet purses are eco-friendly,§ how the company is owned and operated by women,¶ how they're all handmade right here in Colorado,% how Deanna and Tara are warm and friendly and fabulous and they believe in cocktails.#

[SUMMARY: *slurp!*]

And now I can add that they fed my knee-jerk love of all things exclusive and limited this weekend.

Fashion Denver 2008 was May 10.

I got this:




Meet Vickie.††




Note Vickie's lush curves^...




...sleek rings and grommets@...




...and her optimistic‡‡ silver lining.

[SUMMARY: There's something about Vickie...]

You may wish to find your own Vickie, a Vickie you can bring home with you.

You can't have your own Vickie.

[SUMMARY: Nya-nya-ny-nya-nyah§§]

Not yet, anyway.

If you go to the Vamp Bags site and look at their bags, you will note not a Vickie in sight.¶¶

See, Vickie's part of the new line. Vickie was available for pre-ordering. When I went to pre-order my very own Vickie, it turned out they had one extra sample.

And they sold it to me.

So I currently have the only Vickie (2008) in the wild.

Vamp Bags are showing up on the red carpet, on Joan Rivers,+ generally on the fashionista radar. My complete Vickie collection could be big some day. Sotheby's will court me, my retirement will be secure, I will finally be acknowledged as the advance troop& on the leading edge of fashion.$




[SUMMARY: Sucker for elitism, active fantasy life.]

Some day, I will tell my grandchildren about this.##


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): And if you don't remember, I'm happy to get all self-referential on your ass.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): ibid.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): I didn't mention this even though I know how it warms the cockles of your liberal little hearts.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): ibid.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): Y'know... think globally, shop locally.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Oh, clap your hands, children! Clap with all your might and say, "I do! I do believe in cocktails!"

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Funny little side story: the Vamp bag I bought last year was also Vickie. Vickie the First. Vickie I looks like this:




Only mine is green. Apparently, I have more of a thing for rings than I thought. Some day I'll tell you the "I don't like diamonds and I swallow" story and you'll understand what a revelation this is for me.

^FOOTNOTE (careted): I like to pretend Vickie and I have a lot in common.

@FOOTNOTE (atted): ibid.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): OK, OK... so I'm pushing the metaphor. I *like* the metaphor. But it's also practical. I love purses with light-coloured linings so I can see my stuff when I open them.

§§FOOTNOTE (ring around the Vickie): sp?

¶¶FOOTNOTE (one foot in front of the other): Keeping in mind that if you're reading this in 2012, there may be a hundred Vickies at the Vamp site. But rest assured, on May 12, 2008, there was just my Vickie and a sample. Nya.

+FOOTNOTE (plussed): To-may-to, to-mah-to.

&FOOTNOTE (ampersanded): One. One troop.

$FOOTNOTE (moneyed): BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

##FOOTNOTE (pounded like the point... I'm driving that point right home): Well, I'll tell *your* grandchildren. I won't have any grandchildren. But won't that be fun? "I dare you to knock on door of the old AntiM house. Legend says she comes to the door all dressed in black and makes the little children listen to stories of purses and cocktails..."

Someone Has a Case of the Mondays

Entertain?

Amuse?

Write?

Don't wanna.

Go read this.

Um...

Monday was the day the lawyers came. And the engineers. And one guy I think may have been a geologist.†

The HOA for my little corner of heaven is suing the builder of my little corner of heaven for a myriad of sins, so they had to do inspections of the decks, drywall, garages, windows.‡

Most of the house was oddly presentable,§ but the yarn room/library needed help.

[SUMMARY: *ahem*]

I put together some of those wire cube things from Target and set about organising the yarn. I have one bin for yarn to dye, one for leftovers and orphans, one for projects,¶ one for two-skein sets. Two for sock yarn.

The sock yarn overflowed.

I know common wisdom says, "Sock yarn isn't stash."

"I'm on a yarn diet, but sock yarn doesn't count."

We think of sock yarn as safe and inconsequential because it is slated for that particular project: socks. You don't have to buy ten or twelve balls.#

But I really think my sock yarn has gotten out of hand.

My next project will be six socks at once -- different lace patterns. I figure I already did the four-at-once with different sizes. After I finish the six, I'll do eight all the same size and pattern and it'll feel like a brain vacation.

[SUMMARY: The best-laid plans...]

I also have moths.

Before you gasp,†† I can't see that the moths have done any damage to my yarn. I personally fondled and dug through every single ball, skein, hank and wad of yarn in the yarn room and, while there are bug carcasses, there are no chewed spots.

I don't know how to take this. I should be more upset. But I can't see where these particular moths have done me any damage.

Honestly, if they ate a little sock yarn, it might be a blessing.

[SUMMARY: It's early. I may not have had enough coffee.]

We had a lovely dinner at The Palace Arms. I've wanted to go there for years. It's on my list% right next to Africa of places I want to go and may never get. The meal was superb, the service warm and impeccable,‡‡ we women got roses and salted chocolates§§ at the end of the meal. When I had to go to the restroom, one of the servers escorted me like we were going to a debutante ball.

[SUMMARY: *le sigh*]

Now I have to go meet with the client and get actual work done.

[SUMMARY: Different kind of sigh.]

Could be worse. Could be raining. Oh, wait...




†FOOTNOTE (crossed): He kept commenting on my rocks. Yeah, I said that for the benefit of the Brainless Twelvehood that lies within you.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): I'll take "things that may crack or leak or sink" for $500, Alec.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Odd to me.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Believe it or not, I have whole projects with the needles, pattern and all the yarn bagged up neatly and ready to go. I fondly refer to it as my retirement plan.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): I got tired of saying "skeins." I'd rather say "balls."

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): And possibly inhale a moth.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I've found you often have one, but not the other.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): WAS... was on my list. Crossed that off last night.

§§FOOTNOTE (all in a whirl): I'm looking at you, Sarah.

I'm Laughing

I went to a linguistics site to translate "tacky even when wet" to Latin. I figured "tacky" would be a relatively contemporary word, so I started with "sticky even when wet." I got this:

lentesco vel ut madidus

I also figured I could reverse-engineer it to fine tune if the Latin-English translation turned out to be wonky.†

So I plugged the Latin back in and here's the English translation:

to become soft or when wet

I don't need to explain why I'm laughing. You feel me, right?‡


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): You know... if the website version of "sticky" turned out to mean "branches" or something.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Not *literally*. Trust me, I'm a little oversensitive. If you literally felt me, it'd be the high point of my week. I'd celebrate with champagne and send you a thank you note. Maybe a fruit basket.

Drop In, Opt Out, Co-Opt

Once again, I have almost nothing to say.

No wisdom to impart,† no sex,‡ no knitting.§

[SUMMARY: This could be a long post.¶]

I don't have wisdom, sex or knitting, what do I have?

I can lick the pig.




I take comfort in the thought that no matter how bleak things get, I can usually scrape together enough bits for a respectable pig-licking.#

[SUMMARY: I have a dream...]

*************

First, remember how I wanted to go to Slovenia?%

The fact that there is a Slovenian Pig Stamp doesn't make me want to go any less.

*************

Next, in a long-awaited update to the office trash situation,†† we did finally get our "piggy backs"‡‡ for our trash cans. The trash portion of the system is smaller than a ream of paper. Apparently they haven't seen my trash after a yarn shipment.

[SUMMARY: Still a knitblog!]

Anyway, I've already thrown my kleenex in the wrong bin twice.

Further updates as the situation warrants.

*************

Now for the co-opt portion of our program:

This is not my story, but Mary Kay doesn't have a blog, so it's not so much *stealing* as it is giving an outlet for Mary Kay's wonderful world.

See, Mary Kay is a Drunken Knitter and shows up at Patrick Carroll's on Tuesday nights with some regularity, but she's a double agent.

A group of acedemicians, of which Mary Kay and her husband (The Professor) are members also meets at Patrick Carroll's on Tuesdays. So Mary Kay rides the fence, spending some time fiber-geeking with us and some time science-geeking with the other crowd.

So last Tuesday, Mary Kay had the most wonderful story, a story whose punchline has innumerable potentials.§§

See, a good friend of The Professor has a .45## in his house for protection.

Now is the time I introduce you to the concept of Ninja Monkeys: "Ninja Monkeys" is a blanket term¶¶ for any threat from assaulter to zombie that may beg the presence of a firearm.%%

So this guy became concerned about what might happen should Ninja Monkeys attack while he's in the shower. His hands would be wet. The gun might slip.

He did what any respectable denizen of the 21st century would do: he Googled aftermarket grips for his gun and came across a saying I'd like to have emblazoned across my boobs:†††

Tacky Even When Wet

And I want to translate it to Latin and use it as part of a coat of arms for the Drunken Knitters.

And Mary Kay and I started using it as a call and refrain@:

AntiM: Tacky...
Mary Kay: Even when wet!

[SUMMARY: Oh, the places you'll go!]

*************

I just cashed in a whole pile of Kharmic Green Stamps on titanium sporks.‡‡‡

When Dad took me to the Flyfishing Film Fest, they had a bunch of raffle prizes. I was totally hoping I'd win the titanium spork. Unfortunately, it went to the obnoxious, ungrateful wretch behind us, who (besides being loud through the whole event) did nothing but complain that he got a stupid titanium spork.

Some people don't know a good thing when they have it.

I decided it would be a funny and -- probably -- even useful gift for my father for his upcoming birthday, so I Googled it. REI has a flagship store really close to me, so I checked to see if REI carried such a thing.

Their online store has several.

As you may remember, Shane turned 40 recently.§§§ And Hinch is turning 40 soon. And I got it into my head that a titanium spork would be a perfect gift for a 40 year old guy. And I really want one too.

So I need at least four titanium sporks, an errand I haven't yet accomplished.

Let's look in on Hans.

Hans had his golf clubs stolen right out of his car recently. When his insurance company asked for receipts or photographic evidence that he'd ever actually owned golf clubs,¶¶¶ he found... he couldn't prove a damned thing.###

So he has to get an affidavit from a friend saying he golfs and had golf clubs.

Said friend is meeting him at REI.

I asked him to check and see if they have titanium sporks in stock.

Who knew the theft of Hans's golf clubs would turn out to be so beneficial to me?

Oh, yeah. I won't get a good parking space for weeks for all the Kharmic Green Stamps I've cashed in.

[SUMMARY: Somewhere a Buddhist rolls in his grave.]

*************

Oh, cripes. The boss just called and one of my clients%%% is flying in from Houston at 6:00 tonight and is staying at the Brown Palace. She wants to have a business dinner at 7:00 at the Brown to get a head start on tomorrows round of meetings.

Fuck.

Y'all know I love me some Brown Palace. What's not to love? It's elegant, well appointed, upscale, cosy, well executed, helpful, has the best spa in the city and they feed and water me about once a month.

But tonight is Drunken Knitting night. And I'd like to have more notice. And I have to go home and change and put on war paint. And I just don't want to.

This is what Ange calls a White Girl Problem.

[SUMMARY: You'll note it's still a problem.]

*************

UPDATE: Hans JUST came back and REI does, indeed, have titanium sporks in stock.

*************

Damnit.

With the Brown Palace field trip tonight, I doubt I'll have the time or inclination to offload my camera. I have such splendid out-my-office-window pictures too...

*************

Dang. You know it's a bad blogday when the footnotes outnumber the actual texts.

I better get laid soon or y'all will never have anything good to read again.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Duh.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Trust me, this hurts me more than it hurts you.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): I actually have been knitting. Some. But how many times can you see the same 4x1 red silk rib before you give up on me entirely?

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Not long like my usual prolixity (look it up), but long like watched-pot-not-boiling long.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Heheheh. What do you suppose "respectable" means in terms of pig-licking?

%FOOTNOTE (percented): Oh, and I still do!

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I think I should get credit for the fact that the last office trash story was also under a pig-licking and I didn't try to make it a full post all on its own. I may get writer's block* now and then, but at least I keep office trash politics in perspective.

*FOOTNOTE WITHIN A FOOTNOTE: Thinker's block?

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Note the clever pig tie-in.

§§FOOTNOTE (dizzy... confused...): Can potential be plural?

##FOOTNOTE (numbers. We are talking numbers here.): Or a .44. Or a Glock something millimetre. Doesn't matter. For our purposes, a handgun. Can you tell I'm not much of a gun buff?

¶¶FOOTNOTE (why not just club them?): And one that might not be capitalised in anyone else's world.

%%FOOTNOTE (2 percent!): This was superfluous but so much fun. After all, I could probably do this whole story without ever saying "Ninja Monkeys," but why on earth?

†††FOOTNOTE (cross me again...): Not directly on my boobs, mind you. In fact, it would *have* to be on a t-shirt to be really funny, wouldn't it?

@FOOTNOTE (atted): Kinda like an adult beverage version of Marco Polo.

§§§FOOTNOTE (put a foot on the floor and it will stop spinning): You think I just took a total left turn, don't you? You may even think I've forgotten what story I'm telling. A good pig-licking always contains an element of surprise. Or confusion.

¶¶¶FOOTNOTE (one iron! three iron! five iron!): You'll love the fact that not only was his insurance agent the one who left his car window open so his golf clubs *could* be stolen, but the dink called him a couple of days later to ask him to go golfing.

###FOOTNOTE (triple pounder. With cheese.): Let this be a lesson: make sure you have a picture of you golfing. Even if you're drunk and have that smeary look on your face. You may be called upon one day to prove you had clubs.

%%%FOOTNOTE (3 percent!): I only have two right now, so every client is a big client.

I Lied

OK, not so much lied as jumped the gun.† I do have a little something to tell you, as it turns out. See, Hans was just in my office to show me something kinda funny.

A ticket.

You may wonder what is funny about a ticket.

[SUMMARY: Master of the obvious.]

Remember when my license plates were expired? For five months?

I don't know how it works in your state, but in Colorado, your license plate has a month sticker on one side and year sticker on the other and you have a month of grace period after the date represented on your plate to get good with the DMV.

Again, my plates were expired for FIVE MONTHS before anyone even noticed.‡

Hans's plates expired in March. So he had April to take care of it.

And he didn't.

And he got a ticket.

Yesterday morning.

[SUMMARY: Revel in the inequity, but wait for it...]

At 3:59 a.m.§


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Remember when jumping the gun was a fun thing you did in the back room at a Halloween party in college and vaguely regretted the next morning? Good times, good times...

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Yeah, there go all my kharma points. I also think this may be the equivalent of going to Bimini with a B-list model as far as my campaign for sainthood goes.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): I envision some hypervigilant meter maid (I'm sure that's a politicially incorrect term... Ticketing-American?) dozing off at 11:37 p.m. on the 30th of April, only to awake with a snort at 3:57 a.m., gleefully writing the ticket before going home to bed.

Speechless

TTHFCIF

I really have nothing to say.

This doesn't mean I don't wish you well and want you to be happy. So go look at Tommy.

Here's another one.

Go Avs!

Take the Nuggets with you!