Art of Glass

I missed Wednesday.

When you're busy making the world safe for big oil, sometimes meetings and world domination† just eat into your day.

I feel I can make up for skipping Wednesday by giving this on Thursday:


{from Popular Mechanics}


Temperature sensitive glass. Obviously, it could be very cool on a shower door,‡ but I think the key application is barware.

Picture this: the singles bar of the future, where you can tell at a glance who's the ice man§ and who's hot blooded.¶ Where just the right amount of ice can get your G&T to match the blue of your eyes or a dash of cinnamon schnapps will give off smoke signals nobody can ignore.

Besides, it'd give bartenders another dimension to work. An idle bartender is the devil's playground.#


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): "What are we going to do tomorrow night, Brain?"

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): And you could re-enact the car scene from "Titanic" with LSD-like special effects.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): He cometh!

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Did anyone else just go Foreigner?

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): So they told us in Sunday school.

A Pig You Can Knit

I am NOT making this up.

These even look like fluffy,white sheep.

Does anybody else wonder what sort of interspecies hanky-panky is going on in Hungarian barnyards?

How Many Pairs of Shoes Do You NEED?

The classic baffled-male question can now be answered with one product:


{Reuters}

No Comment

I'll leave the commenting in your capable, filthy, twelve-year-old hands.


{via Now Smell This, with prompting from Juno}

HINT: the name of the perfume is Sexual Star from Victoria's Secret.

Fly Day

I want to redecorate my whole bedroom around this wallpaper†:


{via Art of Darkness}


It has *bats*.

[SUMMARY: Bats are where it's at.]

While I go ponder the remodel, you go check out Gigapan, one of the coolest ways to suck a half-hour‡ out of your day.

You can see the Obama inauguration picture in full screen here.

[SUMMARY: If I'm not getting any work done,§ ain't nobody getting any work done.]

I bet that Captain Kangaroo¶ guy was embarrassed when he realised nobody else in the entire event# was clapping.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Maybe not this colour. But I kinda like this colour. But I don't know if I'd want to sleep with this colour. The white one with the blue bats would make a lovely sundress, don't you think? You could practically go to Ascot in a dress like that.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Or two. Or twelve.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): And I'm not. Oh, how I'm not. I put in my 4o hours sometime yesterday -- perfume reviewing at work notwithstanding -- and feel totally justified in screwing off to see a Best Picture nominee this afternoon. Besides, I'm pretty sure it can only put shiny, shiny rhinestones on my application for saint to help boost a sagging Hollywood economy. Or even Bollywood economy *hinthint*.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Marin Trivia: Captain Kangaroo and your dear ol' AntiM share a birthday. This will be really handy for you when, as a saint, I'm my own Jeopardy category.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): He's in the VIP section behind Obama, for the record.

Long Time No

A B C D knitter?

L M N O knitter.

S M R a knitter.

C D yarn?

[SUMMARY: Paraphrasing.]

You'd think I wasn't diligently knitting every night and planning social events around Tuesday's Drunken Knitting and Saturday morning's Reveille Knitting.† You'd think I hadn't seen a new skein of yarn since the old year.

No, no. I understand. It's my fault and I take full responsibility. But despite all appearances, I've been busy as a beaver‡ behind the scenes.

F'rinstance, I'm almost through my stint as a Black Bunny Fibers yarn club member. Perhaps you remember the purple laceweight from a couple of months ago. Well, there have been two installments since then:




Black Bunny Chunky 100% Falkland wool in a vibrant turquoise semi-solid called Icicle.§ The above is a little over-exposed, but a surprisingly close representation of the colour in real life. If you average the vibrancy above with the variegation below, you've got a pretty good idea.




We had a white elephant exchange at one of the hundred and twelve office Christmas parties last month and I snagged Apollo here. My bust may not be as big as Franklin's,¶ but I think it's as artistically viable.#

I plan to knit stuff for it.††

Anyway... more yarn:




Isn't it pretty? Its colour name is Restoration. Look at those browns and purples and corals in with that nice New England red.




Nearly 500 yards of 75/25 superwash wool/polyamide. Appropriately enough, I'll probably use it for one of the patterns from Carol Jean's‡‡ latest publication.§§

[SUMMARY: It's Carol Sulcowski Thursday.]

Well, until we get to the FO part of the post.

Here is my sheep-like, follow-the-herd contribution to the Cult of the Stripe:




I call it the Chypre Scarf, in honour of my recent education¶¶ in both the ways## and pronunciations††† of the perfume category known as chypre.‡‡‡

Let's see... 1.5 skeins each Noro Silk Garden numbers 239 and 249 on Size 7 needles.

It still needs to be washed and blocked,§§§ but the knitting and weaving parts are all complete. When all is said and done, it will be 5.5 or 6 inches wide and a little over six feet long.

I couldn't be happier with the subtle, elegant flow of colours. I was paralysed by choice at the Noro rack at Sylvia's House of Fuzzy Crack, but Kris jumped in and helped me and she is my hero for the day.

[SUMMARY: I get by with a little help from my friends.]

I'm still working on the Purple Prose scarf,¶¶¶ started a Baby Surprise Jacket### and hope to begin a six-at-once sock-knitting experiment in the near future. I am also the volunteer for Sticks 'n' Stitches again this year.††††

[SUMMARY: Still a knitblog!]

Today's offering was brought to you by the letters DK and FO, and by the numbers 239, 249 and 7.

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

Today's perfume review started out to be Fracas by Robert Piguet. Because my brain is about two hours behind the rest of me until after noon, I forgot I have two versions of this perfume (the original and the current), which I purposely got so I could do a compare-and-contrast review of it. Them. Whatever.

So I'm going to hold off, but I thought it might be an interesting educational bit for those who have never thought of it: many perfumes go through numerous changes in their lifetimes. A 1940 vintage Joy may be entirely different -- almost unrecognisable -- from its 2009 namesake.

This is due in part to availability and price of components, but also because some ingredients have been found to be allergens or toxins as time and science go by. Coming from the other end of that road, strictures have become tighter on what exactly constitutes a toxin or an allergen.

If Chanel No. 5 or Mitsouko just doesn't smell like it did when your mother wore it when you were a child, it's not necessarily just you -- it could actually be a whole new scent.

[SUMMARY: Time changes things, perfume is fleeting, I may find this way more interesting than you do.]


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Not its official name. That's what I call it because it gets me out of bed before noon on Saturday. Besides, it sounds like "Ravelry" and that's kinda cool.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Easy, Kim.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Or maybe Icicles. I don't know if Carol planned on one icicle or many icicles when she started that project.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Yeah, it's a link to Carol's blog, but her picture of Franklin's bust was readily available. And it's not totally inapt since we are talking about Carol and awful lot.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Without the pictures, that's a marvelously strange sentiment.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I am just that kind of dork. When I was in the sixth grade, I knit a matching scarf and fin-cap set for a rubber shark. I have *always* been just that kind of dork.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Yes, I call her Carol Jean. She knows me mostly as the dink who couldn't press the right PayPal button, yet I feel comfortable enough to call her Carol Jean. Come to think of it, I'm not sure where I got the Jean. Hell, her middle initial may not even be J.

§§FOOTNOTE (back to Carol Jean): Thus:




¶¶FOOTNOTE (little graduates, all in a row): Thanks to a very patient Nathan, who didn't laugh directly at me even once.

##FOOTNOTE (pounding it into my thick skull): Like where it's Cyprus, not cypress. There's a big difference -- totally different directions.

†††FOOTNOTE (put a tack in that one): Sheep-er or Sheep-ra, as opposed to "chai-per," which is what I was saying prior.

1) Isn't that a nice pun for a knitted object?
2) Sheep-ra, Princess of Power! I've wanted to do that for ages.

‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (thinking outside the boxes): Usually with citrus and usually a woody note usually from oakmoss, plus amber and sometimes sandalwood. It's not hard science.

§§§FOOTNOTE (swish it in the water...): Just a little blocking. Mostly to disquise the lumpy bits on the edges from carrying new yarn up the side.

¶¶¶FOOTNOTE (one step forward, two steps back): I finished 12 of 16 repeats... then frogged back to 10. I finished 10 and 11 and am now gathering strength to go back to the beginning of 10 again. I've actually knit seven Purple Prose scarves. It's just that they didn't all make it out of childhood.

###FOOTNOTE (bam!bam!bam!): For not-evil future stepsister-in-law.

††††FOOTNOTE (dear gods, it's four): Day game on Saturday, January 31st. You don't have to knit or crochet, but it couldn't hurt. Get your tickets!

Sunday in the Oven with George

I baked.

A cake.

From scratch.

Part of me wants to continue this as some sort of slam poetry thing.†

But we should get to the business at hand, because I baked this from scratch.‡




I used a recipe from Fine Cooking.§ Their very pragmatic name is Buttermilk Cake with Spiced Vanilla Frosting. They don't mention *anywhere* in the name that it has 2 1/4 cups of grated butternut squash. If it were mine to name, I would definitely have mentioned the butternut squash.

Anyway, it was my contribution to the notable return to family dinner% and I wanted to show off.

It was wonderful, if I do say so myself.¶

[SUMMARY: In which I toot my own horn.]

But the real star of this blogpost is the pictorial answer to the question, "How many Untiedts# does it take to..."




That would be three.

Wait!

Three-and-a-half.††





When Dr. Doom saw all the fix-it activity, he shouted, "Maybe you need a glue stick!"‡‡ and ran off to the desk to find one. He had the most earnest look on his face when he came back.

He took the cap off the glue stick, handed it to Brother and watched anxiously to see if it worked.

Brother dutifully dabbed the errant screw with the glue stick, then thanked Dr. Doom and went back to using the screwdriver. Dr. Doom waited around for a moment to be sure more glue stick wasn't needed before he put it back where he found it.§§

[SUMMARY: In which Dr. Doom saves the day I count to nearly four.]

Despite all the blurry action photography, isn't that just the cutest thing you've ever seen? Heard? Read?

C'mon... humour me. Say, "Awwwww."

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

Miel de Bois (edp) - Serge Lutens+

Marin says: This is a notoriously reviled scent in many perfume circles.¶¶ Apparently, the element that is the scent of honey is the same as the element that is the scent of urine.

I know.

Consequently, a lot of people HATE this perfume.

I tried it in the privacy of my own living room## a couple of weeks ago and really liked it, which brought up the question, "Am I anosmic to urine^ or does my body chemistry like honey?" Like any good scientist, I added a control group to ascertain the validity of my conclusion.

I believe you all know Hans, my perpetual control group.

Hans agrees: It just so happens that on me, Miel de Bois smells like warm, floral honey that melds into a honeyed wood that calls up a picture of the polished pews of an old Catholic church on a Thursday afternoon, the ghost of incense lingering from Wednesday mass††† and freshly-lit beeswax candles.

I will admit that, like the Etat Libre d'Orange Jasmin et Cigarette,‡‡‡ I can see the relation to the repugnant scent and its more socially acceptable counterpart. I believe I used this analogy before, but it's like switching between the woman and the skull.§§§

The Perfumed Court@ says: A sensuous woody$ Oriental scent with notes of ebony, oak, gaiac, aquilaria aguillocha (used to make incense sticks)$ and honey all resting on base notes of beeswax,$ iris$ and hawthorn.¶¶¶

Hans says: Once again, I'm getting baby powder.$ Or maybe flowers. Is it... lavender? Roses? [I explained the urine connection] I totally did not get pee.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Another part wants to haiku:

orange flecks of squash
sunshine on a winter night
spiced to my own taste

If you look at it sideways, it's kind of provocative.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Once I got the pictures off the camera, it was clear I should've taken at least a couple of pictures from some sort of angle. For the record, that is, in fact, from a rose bundt cake pan. It is *not* an asshole cake, despite all appearances. Hey, the image got stuck in my head and I am not one to keep my misery to myself.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): My favourite magazine. Favouriter even than Interweave Knits.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): Probably most notable because Father has moved in with the fiancée, Brother and eBeth have separated and Brother is living at Father's former home. Yeah, as Brother says, that's not awkward at all. The fiancée didn't attend, which may be for the best, but I think a sprinkling of evil step-sisters would have really made the occasion come alive.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): And I do. I do say so myself. I figure I earn the right to take some credit. You know how some people can't leave a knit pattern in its natural state and they have to use a different stitch here or shorten that or do a picot bind-off? I screw with every single recipe I make. And I almost never measure spices, so it's always my own unique creation. I believe I shall call this one Haiku Cake.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): I keep telling you, my last name is ten kinds of weird.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): And one to put pictures on the Internet.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I wish you could've been there. Dad and Brother were making manly noises about what didn't seem to line up and threading on the screws and washer viscosity (I know, I know) and Dr. Doom was shouting as he ran, so they didn't really hear him and I was sitting in the kitchen doorway, bouncing up and down and going, "Did you hear that? Ohmigosh! Did you...? The camera!"

§§FOOTNOTE (is that another asshole cake?): So *earnest*. So happy to help. So very very adorable.

*ahem*

I'm doing it again, aren't I? Eh... it was written in the stars. When eBeth was pregnant with Tallest, Hairiest Nephew, I got to go with them when they registered at Babies-backwards-R-Us. Brother, in charge of the laser pistol (because that's what you do when you take men to register -- put them in charge of the gun) and thinking he was funny, first scanned eBeth, looked at the display and said, "Fat chick." Then he scanned me, looked at the display and said, "Psycho Aunt." I continue to live up to my potential in that arena.

+FOOTNOTE (plussed): Perhaps you thought I'd forgotten all about perfume.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (two does not a circle make): Of *course* there are perfume circles.

##FOOTNOTE (tictic tactac toetoe): It seemed the polite thing to do.

^FOOTNOTE (carated): Or would it be, "Is urine anosmic to me?"

†††FOOTNOTE (three steps closer to sainthood): Wednesday is a big mass day for the truly devout, right?

‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (cancer sticks): I know I haven't exactly reviewed it yet, but I've mentioned it.

§§§FOOTNOTE (skull? woman? cigarette? jasmine? honey? urine?): Thus:




@FOOTNOTE (atted): Normally, I try to link and quote the perfumier rather than another reviewer or vendor, but in this case, Serge Lutens' unnavigable website pissed me off so he gets no say in the matter.

$FOOTNOTE (on the money!): Honey and wood, just like I said. I'm also giving Hans credit for the powder thing because iris is classically described as a powdery note. Question: isn't ebony a super-hard hardwood? Would it have enough smell to list in a perfume?

¶¶¶FOOTNOTE (the international symbol for hawthorn): Hawthorn is listed as a note in quite a few perfumes. Wikipedia doesn't list anything about its use in perfumes. I don't even know if it's the wood or the flowers. What I do know is that the flowers are hermaphroditic, so I'm guessing hawthorn is a good unisex scent.

Bach Bach Bach†

I couldn't bring myself to do it.

Despite the fact that I have a *lot* of thoughts‡ on today's Thrilla on the Hill-a, I just can't.

So this is me, signing out on the political brouhaha -- gotta take the trash out. Even with this vast surge of national hope and optimism, I have little faith the trash will take itself out.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Those are chicken noises. Cultured chicken noises.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): That's what I do: think, re-think, over-think, second-guess, repeat.

Sex smell lures 'vampire' to doom

That's the best headline I've seen in years.

{BBC News via Now Smell This}

And it may just redeem me from the potentially serious Inauguration Day post I may be planning. Y'know -- to prove I'm more than just a pretty face with a knack for dick jokes.

If I don't do it today, when can I?†

†FOOTNOTE (crossed): The Inauguration Day post, I mean. I can do dick jokes any day. I suspect I can do dick jokes in my sleep. Just ask any of my ex-boyfriends.

This is the Blog that Has No Shame

But we give the people what they want.

Because I want all y'all to be happy, here is a link the the Anti-Craft crocheted penis.† And Mr. Peen on Ravelry.‡

And now a car crash.



We are all now sufficiently embarrassed for a Monday morning with the boss looking over our collective shoulder. My work here is done.

I must go do something... penitent.§


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): click for big



‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): click for big



§FOOTNOTE (swerved): heheheheheh

For the Uterusless

Hoping to make it up to you a little for that little feminine indiscretion Friday.

You must click for big.

I Am SO Sorry

But I just don't think I can leave this over on YouTube all by itself. It has to come† live at the Rickety Blog.




Um... probably not safe for work.‡ Or grandmothers.§ Or clergy.¶


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): heheheheheh

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Which is why I'm running it on a Saturday.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Then again, I don't know your grandmother. Definitely not my grandmother. Or, as we call her in our family, "Brother's grandmother."

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Do y'all know this much polite company?

Welcome to Bright Friday†

A day that will be remembered as The Day Marin Saved the U.S. Economy.%

[SUMMARY: OMG hubris!]

I had a brilliant idea‡ while I was puttering around Gawker the other day and came across an article on the big fancy Obama inaugural concert. As the guest list rolled out to the horizon,^ it started to look like the punchline was going to be, "...at which time Jesus will speak a few words before Elvis Presley and Frank Sinatra§ serenade a six-story image of Obama with a specially-arranged version of 'It Had to be You'..."¶

With Obama fever at the highest it's likely to be,# and with people willing to spend serious bucks in a hard economy just to secure their respective copies of Tuesday's New York Times,†† it seems to me the inaugural concert could be recorded and sold, with the artists GENEROUSLY donating‡‡ all proceeds to the United States citizenry.$

There could be package deals with photo albums or letters from the prez... there could be special downloadable versions with bonus video tracks... hell, there could even be a kids' book and a sing-along version of the kids' inaugural concert.

Then the proceeds could be split 25/75 between paying down the national debt and going straight to tax-filing citizens to spend at their local retailers.@ Like Alaska's petroleum-driven payments to its constituency, this could be a regular check.§§

To keep the dollars rolling, there could be adjunct First Hundred Days concerts, First Term Concerts, It's Been a Great Run, Ten Year Anniversary¶¶...

We are a nation of hype and advertising and packaging and collectibles and nostalgia, along with an overblown sense of history that only comes from not having very much of it.

The possibilities are nearly endless.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): It's the opposite of Black Friday!

%FOOTNOTE (percented): See yesterday's footnote.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): If history tells me anything, it's that when I get this excited about something, the distinctive sound of crickets in the empty ether awaits me. I'm prepared for that. Hey, I may have serious hubris, but I have *realistic* serious hubris.

^FOOTNOTE (careted): Usher is even using his whole name. Roman numeral and all.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): I know they're dead. It's part of the joke.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): If you can find a more appropriate song, I'll eat a spider.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): He's gotta step on some toes sometime. Despite rumours to the contrary, he's human.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): That's NEXT Tuesday, for twenty years down the line when blogs are as au courant as card catalogs with hand-typed entries and nobody remembers what a huge deal this all was. And for that day, newspapers were hand-held, tree-based, interactive devices with which members of the general public actually followed the news instead of it following them.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): The donating part is key.

$FOOTNOTE (moneyed, appropriately enough): Yes, I know there's something fallacious about asking people to buy something then sending the profits back to them, but this would be an INTERNATONAL marketing campaign. If Vladamir Putin wants his Stevie Wonder fix, he's going to have to put a dime in my pocket.

@FOOTNOTE (atted): Or, y'know... to save their mortgages.

§§FOOTNOTE (that's some kind of fancy money): I envision quarterly for the first year, semi-annually for the remainder of the presidential term, then annually thereafter.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (put your microphones in the air!): All, of course, with highlights from the original inaugural concert, but one track or two on the original concert should never, ever be available again so it can become rare and mythical. Also? Where does one put the footnote marker in relation to ellipses? I'm already itching because "inaugural concert" seems less-than-ideal, semantically speaking, and I don't want anything else on my record today.

My Fibroids Are Hand-Knit

{From Knitty}

Dear Kim,

You asked for it.

XOXO
M

I kinda want to apologise to Brother and Nathan and Doc and Brad and any of you other uterusless types out there who never needed to know such a thing existed. I do know where there's a knitted penis pattern, if that would make you feel more at home.

This is Your Brain on Wool

Any questions?


{Telegraph via Carol}

Gummi!

I am *not* making this shit up.

{via Geekologie}

Just Like Jack Daniels Uses

I am a high-quality† filter.%

Every day, I get my three emails from Very Short List. Every day, I read them, check out the links and carefully consider how badly Brother may need them. Then I forward as appropriate.

I have suggested he might like to subscribe to VSL and make his own decisions on what Very Short News he gets, but he maintains we have a good set-up just the way it is.

So...

The whole QO'Q path is not meant to get me out of meaningful blogging,‡ nor to mask the fact that I can't get my butt to the basement to extract and process photos for knitting content§; it is my way of distilling the thousands of pieces of information I receive every day into a tasty, intoxicating¶ concoction for you, whilst filtering out the chaff.#

[SUMMARY: We come to praise Caesar, not to bury him.]

To that end, I bring you today's found object.

It's a PETA anti-fishing campaign that makes me wonder if such vast resources could be used for good instead of inane:




There's a large, multi-paged, multi-media'd website devoted entirely to Sea†† Kittens. It includes a book of Sea Kitten bedtime stories.‡‡ I don't want to give the ending away, but Chapter One is entitled "Snuggle Buddies."§§

On the bright side, you can build your own Sea Kitten.

Mine is called "Lunch."@

Create Your Own Sea Kitten at peta.org!

In the interest of full disclosure, it should be noted my favourite radio moment of the 20th century was a debate between a PETA representative¶¶ and Ted Nugent on the merits of fishing.##

[SUMMARY: I'm not fair and balanced, but I'm open about it.†††]

Further updates as I think the situation warrants it.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): We've gone this far without bursting my bubble. Let's not start now, shall we?

%FOOTNOTE (percented): Jack Daniels uses charcoal. Charcoal is quite simply a diamond in the rough. I believe this to be apt. See footnote (crossed) above.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Which it does.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Which it should.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): In keeping with the whiskey theme.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): And, in keeping with the whiskey theme, if there is grain mash in whiskey, there *must* be chaff to be separated somewhere in the process.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): The temptation to write to PETA to point out that many, many fish never see the sea... don't they want to save the bass? And the brook trout? And the Colorado state fish, the greenback cutthroat trout which was listed as "threatened" on the endangered species list due to whirling disease? DOESN'T PETA CARE ABOUT *MY* FISH?!

Oh, yeah. Big temptation. I think all y'all should write to PETA about your respective state fishes. Unless they're actually ocean-going fishes, that is.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Because you can tell a lot about a culture by its bedtime stories. I am not making this shit up.

§§FOOTNOTE (my footnotes have whirling disease!): Have you ever snuggled a trout? It's not something about which they should be writing bedtime stories.

@FOOTNOTE (atted): Lunch has her own water dish (what fish doesn't need a water dish?), is festooned in red yarn (every knitter's fish should have a yarn ball) and sports a tiara. Question: doesn't PETA have a bunch to say about the mistreatment of wool-bearing animals in the yarn-making process? Aren't they in danger of being hypocritical by having yarn available for their Sea Kittens?

¶¶FOOTNOTE (club footed by a lack of eloquence): Who had trouble stringing three words together.

##FOOTNOTE (pounding the point home): Who strung a LOT of words together.

†††FOOTNOTE (pictures at 11, crosses at 3): One little thing Fox News and I don't have in common.

Quoquidian

I wasn't going to post today, and today's offering definitely falls in the soon-to-be patented Quantity Over Quality† campaign, but I stumbled on this and couldn't keep my big mouth shut%:




If one‡ is going to be derivative, one may as well be derivative with quality goods.

Bruce Jenner's little boy§ has a line of jewelry.

Some with skulls.@

I'm not sure if I'm more distrated by the pretty, pretty skulls or the pretty, pretty boy.

And on a completely unrelated note, did anyone notice the Yarn Harlot today? She was licking the pig and I'll bet she didn't even know it.¶


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): QO'Q. With a cool name like that, I could have my own accessories line.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): Blogically speaking.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): And by "one," I mean, "I."

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Kim Kardashian's step-brother?

@FOOTNOTE (atted): Look real close. That's a delicate little string of skulls.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): And that's a hell of a way to wake up, let me tell you.

Some People...

...are unclear on the concept.




I'm looking at you, Mr. Congressman Massa.

Even I'm shaking my head and y'all know I rape the land for a living.

Mystery Stitch

Rather than take pictures of yarn to make you feel better last night, I finished a project to make me feel better.

[SUMMARY: Selfish!]

But all is not lost. In the ongoing Quantity Over Quality campaign here at the Rickety Blog,† I do have a brief little knitingish post for you.

Does anybody know what stitch this is, and/or where I can find instructions?‡






I'm probably lucky I actually have a Nordstrom credit card§ -- it goes a long way toward keeping them from calling mall security when I drag a sweater around looking for the proper contrasting background and then start snapping photos right there in the Narrative department.

[SUMMARY: Ugly American, pretty knitting.]

Thanks for your time and consideration.

Perhaps I will have pictures tomorrow. Miracles do happen, and I'm just the saint-in-training to do them.¶


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Don't think I haven't noticed. And I'm just sick about it.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): It's making me crazy. I feel I *should* be able to just figure it out on my own. The openwork is a basic fagot stitch, but are there twisted stitches around it? Is that a purl stitch in between?

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Which I wear in a clear pocket on a lanyard 'round my neck so there's no mistaking I am a customer to be reckoned with.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Which would be... what? Seven saint points? Eight?

Before I Start Improving Myself...

...I really need someone to tell me where I can get one of these:


{via Gizmodo}

Revolutionary Resolutions

Every year when January 1 rolls in, I experience resolution anxiety.

Are resolutions stupid and cheesy?†

Is it dumb to put such emphasis on one day of the year, to put all your self-improvement eggs in one icy basket, to guppy up to the lemming-like rush of the masses toward probably failure?‡

Or is it just a good bookmark, a might-as-well-start-somewhere logical starting point, a touchstone for yourself and all you hope to become?§

[SUMMARY: Attempting to mask procrastination with pretty words.]

Turns out, mostly I just like to play with myself.¶

Games, I mean.

I was waxing neurotic about all this% Saturday at not-drunken-morning-coffe-shop knitting,# and Betsy†† told me about an exotic new resolution system‡‡:

1. Take the month of January to settle down from the holidays and get into the swing of things.
2. Assess your resolution needs and actually start them on February 2 (2/2).
3. Revisit and revise as needed on 3/3, 4/4, 5/5 and so on.

I would like to say I appreciate this for its sense of balance and it's recognition of me as a work in progress. In the name of honesty, I have to say the number thing appeals to the very minute C part§§ of my OCD tendencies¶¶ and it has a sort of game-like appeal## that really speaks to my inner child.†††

[SUMMARY: Some of us need more to keep our interest than others.]

I thought I would share this with y'all, in case anybody out there is looking for a new way to view resolutions.‡‡‡

And, hey -- if you fall off the wagon, you can always re-start or drop it entirely on your revise and revisit day.

[SUMMARY: Sanctioned waffling!]

If I'm going to buy into self-help, it has to come with an escape route.

I know it's a weak blog day, but tomorrow@... to make it all better... KNITTING!


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Possibly.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Probably.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Well, yeah... that too.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): I only say things like this because you expect me to. Normally, I'm a demure, clean-living, Stepford girl. Who happens to be twelve.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): Not the playing with myself part, the resolutions part.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Even I don't drink before 10:00 am. Mostly.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Who doesn't have a blog and may not read blogs and would never know if I didn't give her credit. She didn't make this up and doesn't remember where she heard it, but, by golly, it isn't my idea, so I'm determined to credit someone else. Who's keeping track of my saint points? What am I up to so far?

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): New to me. Maybe only exotic to me too.

§§FOOTNOTE (all those fours make my head spin): Which mostly manifests itself in counting things. Ironic, no?

¶¶FOOTNOTE (do those look parallel to you?): I'm sure it comes as no surprise to any of you that I have a tiny little obsessive streak.

##FOOTNOTE (pound that dice popper): If they could work one of those dice popper things in, I'd never look for another way to do resolutions again.

†††FOOTNOTE (or a spinner! With an arrow!): Who needs to be distracted with number games and dice poppers to keep her from taking her clothes off and playing in the neighbour's bird bath.
‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (three track mind): I also recommend squinting and tilting your head to the left.

@FOOTNOTE (atted): Whichever version of tomorrow works for me, that is.

Oh, Look at the Time!

First day back in the office.

Got a little carried away.

The Marin Dream Post

Or: A Tale of Two Barbies.

I now own two Barbies. There is, of course (Jaxon, avert your eyes) this Christmas present I got for myself:






You didn't really think I was going to leave a Barbie with *ravens*† on the shelf, did you?

[SUMMARY: This sister is doing it for herself.]

But If I had asked you a month ago if Marin owned any Barbies,‡ you may have said, "No."

Surprise!

I've had this Barbie for several years.






Brother§ got her for me, oh, seven? eight? years ago. She's my own custom Barbie and my evil twin.¶

It seems the Customise Your Own Barbie website had some limitations on how salacious Evil Marin Barbie could actually be, so her profile is a little tame.#

[SUMMARY: I don't have a husband or City Shopper accessories.]




I'm Barbie's *special* friend.††


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Marin trivia: I memorised Poe's "The Raven" in the seventh grade. I can still recite most of it -- all of it with a little promting. It is my second favourite Poe poem.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): And if you'd guessed I'd be talking about myself in third-person by January 11, I'd have laughed in your face.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): You may note that my calling him Brother isn't just an Innernets affectation to keep from dragging him through my personal brand of mud -- it's what I actually call him much of the time. And I really call the nephews Tallest, Hairiest Nephew and Dr. Doom too. Imagine.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): If I had green eyes, a 12-inch waist, a 48-inch inseam and if the bitch would loan me that marvelous acid green outfit just once.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Gymnastics... is that what the kids are calling it these days?

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): It was college. We were really drunk. You know how kids experiment these days...

Sunday Funnies

{via Geekologie}


If I were Barack, I might be more excited about my eminent Marvel Comics appearance than my upcoming presidency.

Now We're Cookin' with Gas

You may have already noticed; I have a very broad definition of "tomorrow."

I have really good excuses.†

For one, the 50 feet of cable "enhancing" my "wireless" connection became a game of hide and seek‡ yesterday§ and I finally gave up and went to a movie.

For another, I've been home "working" for the last three weeks and, upon realisation that I only had one more day to do fun stuff while other people were working, I finally gave up and went to a movie.

And, well, I've seen four movies in two weeks now¶:

1. Benjamin Button was sepia-toned# and it made me cry for about 45 minutes.
2. Marley & Me was tenser than I had anticipated and [spoiler] the damned dog dies,†† so I cried for about 45 minutes.
3. Seven Pounds contained about three seconds of lighthearted‡‡ and I didn't cry for 45 minutes, but I did tear up a little and I had a headache from all the heavy.

I needed something with no crying. So I gave up and went to a fluffy movie.§§

[SUMMARY: Apparently, I'm very sensitive.]

But enough about me. Let's see what my friends at Nintendo thinks of me.¶¶

My friends at Nintendo still wants me to use and enjoy my DS Lite.

My friends at Nintendo sent me a Christmas present.

I reacted largely the same way I acted when Kirby hit my doorstep: "Oh, my. A package. A square, white package. Am I expecting a package? It doesn't shake all that well, so it's not, like, a puzzle or a Chinese Checker set. Who do I know in West Hollywood? The address looks vaguely familiar -- do I have an outstanding perfume order. Could this be Luckyscent? No, Luckyscent uses FedEx, not UPS. The box is certainly an interesting size... could it be one of the books I ordered? Or is it too square? Too thin? It's too flat to be yarn. A knitting book, maybe. Did I order a knitting book? Whatever could it be?"

[SUMMARY: OPEN THE DAMNED BOX ALREADY!]

And it was this##:




Not only does it have a cookbook's-worth of recipes, you can search by ingredients, calories, ethnic cuisine... and there are movies. Little movies about how to do cooking stuff like julienning or poaching or how big a dice actually is.

And shopping lists and prep instructions and step-by-step instructions and any time there's a term of art, they have a link you can click to see the definition.

They even have a place you can tell it% things you won't or can't eat and will filter recipes to suit your tastes. Or allergic reactions.

Also?




It has my *name* on it.




For someone who never had much truck with video games,††† I think I've done pretty well for myself.

[SUMMARY: Apparently, I'm influential.]

I'm the luckiest little geek-aspiring girl ever.

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

Blu Notte - Bulgari‡‡‡

Marin says: There's an astringence at the beginning that smacks of rubbing alcohol, but it's a little different. Unlike a lot of edt's that use an alcohol base, this is sweeter -- almost nutty -- in a way that feels more like a note rather than the second ingredient on the list.

It burns of nearly as quickly as that rubbing alcohol thing, and it's an interesting citrus. Lemon-lime? I immediately think lime, but... remember those bottle caps candies? The ones that looked like bottle cap-shaped SweeTarts and ostensibly tasted like various sodas? This reminds me of the 7Up bottle cap candy. Lemon, lime, more impressionistic than realistic, sweeter than actual 7Up. So not *exactly* lime.

I'm this short, I think. I really like it as a whole, I'm just very caught up in all the individual trees and forgot to tell you the name of the forest.§§§

It's tangy, citrusy and sweet, but not a vanillic sweet or a big, round, amber sweet. In fact, it's just this side of too sweet for my taste -- in a good way. The citrusy part bumps it into an almost spicy range, and there might be the tiniest bit of wood streaming along underneath it all. In fact, it might be sandalwood, what with the sweet and the spice and the wood.

The final wisps have a slightly astringent, powdery thing going on.

The Perfumed Court says: A lush Oriental floral fragrance that is a blend of galangal,$ vodka,$ iris and dark chocolate.¶¶¶

†FOOTNOTE (crossed): You would expect no less from me.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Making it a "connection."

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): The *real* yesterday, as opposed to my broad-spectrum "tomorrow" version of yesterday.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): There was a time I saw 100 movies a year. I believe I've seen more movies in the last two weeks than I saw in the past three years. There's something very "breakthrough" about that.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Both in colour and in mood.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I know, I know, but Brother and I had had the conversation months ago about how nobody ever writes a dog book where the dog doesn't die. I said, "Marley & Me..."

He said, "The dog does too die in Marley & Me."

"You read the book?"

"No, but it's about a dog, right?"

"Yeah, but..."

"So the dog dies."

Since it had been awhile since I read the book, I allowed how's I may have forgotten something, since mostly what I remembered was Marley eating the drywall.

A couple of weeks ago, I recounted to Dad the above conversation.

He said, "Marley & Me... Marley doesn't die."

"That's what I said! OK, Brother is smoking crack."

So when Marley started getting old and slow in the movie and the foreshadowing was beating me about the head and neck, I leaned over to Dad and said, "You told me the dog doesn't die."

"For my sake, I really hope he doesn't."

Fifteen minutes later, I was sitting with my the neck of my hoodie pulled up over my nose, sniffling and scrubbing at my eyes.

"You OK?"

"The damned dog died, Dad."

"You really didn't remember the dog died?"

"You SAID he didn't. I TRUSTED you!"

The moral of this story: the responsibilities of parenthood do not disappear with age. You still can't lie to your kids.

BTW? This may be the longest footnote ever.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Though, despite the unfortunate plotline (and I mean both the heavy melancholy of it and the sad state of it), had an absolutely stunning acting performance by Will Smith.

§§FOOTNOTE (two reel): With the glut of movies hoping for Oscar noms, I was convinced I was going to have to see the stupid sparkly vampire movie... then the even stupider-looking wedding movie... but settled upward on "Yes Man." Which wasn't great. But probably better than sparkly vampires or slapstick weddings. Though if you see "Yes Man," do what I did: blur your vision and twiddle your mind a little and picture John Cusack in the lead role.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (drums for a rimshot, please): Such an old joke. Didn't stop me.

##FOOTNOTE (pound and pound again): You may have seen the commercials in which Lisa Kudrow makes kung pao chicken with a four-year-old.

†††FOOTNOTE (who needs three joysticks?): Despite being generationally placed at the ideal time to be a video game junkie... I played pinball at the bowling alley after school while everybody else was playing Pac Man and Tron. I know I've told you that story before, but, hey -- I'm old and feeble (I just copped to being bowling alley aged in the naiscent era of video gaming) and will be inclined to repeat myself. Repeat myself. Redundantly.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): Yes, I talk to my Nintendo.

‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (all tracks lead to Rome): Bvlgari Blv Notte, if you prefer.

§§§FOOTNOTE (leaves swirling): Let's call this particular forest "Sylvia." That's really funny if you took Latin.

$FOOTNOTE (on the money!): Once I read what galangal is, I am giving myself credit for 7Up SweeTarts. In my head, galangal TOTALLY smells like 7Up SweeTarts. And I think "deliberate rubbing alcohol" pretty much equals vodka. AND I can't believe I got powder in any form and didn't immediately assume iris. That's just not like me.

¶¶¶FOOTNOTE (truffles on a stick): Wow, did I NOT get dark chocolate. Though that might account for some of the sweet that wasn't vanilla.

A Mare, Egrets, Moose†

Just a few more days and I should be just about caught up.

Small. Subdued. Except, as always,‡ for the Subdude.§

So I have small¶ pictures.#





Pictures of kids are necessary, since Christmas is muchly about the kids.

Pictures of cats are necessary, since if you purport to maintain a knitblog, you must occasionally post a picture of a cat.††

Pictures of Brother are necessary when he is sporting the very festive Batman pajamas.‡‡

Pictures of AntiM and her various adult relatives are NOT necessary§§ when they are adequately represented¶¶ by the Brother picture.

[SUMMARY: Rules were meant to be made up.]

I got skulls in my stocking, and I'm delighted.





Finally, wine charms I can get behind.

[SUMMARY: Wine charms that say "poison" could be very useful.]

I don't want to run down all the loot,## but I did get one very, very blogworthy gift from Jeff's mom:†††




Mrs. Berry% writes entertaining mysteries set in a small southern town. I thought I owned most of them, but it turns out there are a couple I was missing.

Turns out there's one that's NOT EVEN OUT YET that I'm "missing."‡‡‡

Excuse me... WAS missing.§§§

My elitist little heart just goes pitter-pat.

Check out the inscription:




The temptation to take a red pen to it and return it is fierce, but I do have some sense of propriety.¶¶¶

[SUMMARY: Don't look a gift book in the inscription.]

Tomorrow, more exclusive, inside news.###


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): You know... like the Sandra Boynton card. For the record, if you Google "wee fish ewe a mare egrets moose," there are 694 entries. 691 of them are blogheadings. I am an inadvertent sheep.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Except that first week he was off afternoon naps. We looked up in the middle of family dinner and said, "Where's Dr. Doom?" He had taken himself to bed. At 6:30. *That's* subdued.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): If Tallest, Hairiest Nephew is the Dude, it follows that his little brother is the Subdude.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Size doesn't count.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Which you can click for big if you just can't get enough of the Batman pajamas.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Rule 112 (c). For cat. Also? The cat is sitting with the Appalachian birdhouse the nephews got me for Christmas.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I said, "Oh, Dr. Doom, what a great present! I think your dad should go put it on RIGHT NOW, don't you?" That may explain the look on Brother's face.

§§FOOTNOTE (speaking of redundant): And, in fact, would be redundant.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (puts on his pajamas one leg at a time): Probably outdressed.

##FOOTNOTE (oounding home the point): Even my white fig diffuser and my George Hamilton autobiography. No, I'm not making that up... it's the adjunct to my very own copy of Zorro, the Gay Blade.

†††FOOTNOTE (three crosses to bear): Who has played bridge AND Scrabble with me and still clings to the belief that I can read. Bless her heart.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): She will *always* be Mrs. Berry.

‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (how do you diagram that?): I realise the usage is untenable, but I will give up all semblance of grammatical decency to get to the punchline.

§§§FOOTNOTE (§§§ubtle): That's me trying to be subtle.

¶¶¶FOOTNOTE (très, très, très... c'mon -- it's a multilingual pun. I don't have to finish it, do I?): I have no sense of propriety. I'm just trying to ensure I still have a place in Mrs. Berry's heart and a shot at sainthood.

###FOOTNOTE (pounding the celebrity beat): Me and Paris Hilton.