Shhhhh...

...I'm supposed to be working.

Only, we had our fantasy draft last night and I got to keep the premier player in the whole of the NFL,† but ended up drafting a stoopid quarterback‡ and one player simply to have someone whose bye week is ten.§

Long night.

On the up-side, we've moved our league from CBS Sports to Yahoo, which doesn't just give us great savings,¶ it gives us the ability to use the Toyota Logo Enhancer.

The BOB# is now represented by a demon sheep.††




I'm so happy right now, I could just go back to werk.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Adrian Peterson, who I hope is man enough to carry my whole miserable team.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Kyle Orton. I know. But I thought I should have at least one Bronco and Knowshon Moreno was gone. Besides, my brother kept saying, "Kyle Orton, still on the board," in a very sarcastic tone. I had to shut him up. If the boy ever learns to play, I'm going to look like a flippin' genius.



§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Hakeem Nicks of the Giants. I don't know either.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): As CBS charged us $170 for the privelege of being able to set our roster set times, apparently.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Beasts of Burden - my fantasy moniker. It's always fun if your initials spell something and "BOB" lends itself well to trash-talking. I once was beating everybody in the league so soundly, I wrote a little Christmas song and having a one-syllable name facilitated that nicely. Also? This year we have a new guy named Robert who is playing under the team name "Lesser Bob." Ask me how much I love that.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I usually use Donkey from Shrek, but a donkey wasn't one of my options. Toyota has an elephant but not a donkey. This could raise political eyebrows among the conspiracy theorists. Oh... and for the record? Toyota offers both a knitting needle in a ball of yarn and a sock as background, but neither one showed up behind the sheep.

Kissable

1957 Ferrari 250 Testa Rossa to be auctioned by Sotheby's.




{RM Auctions via Yatzer}

Isn't that the curviest, most lickable little car you ever did see?

It looks positively knittable.

It looks friendly like a muppet, but wicked like a spider.

It looks like something Zaphod Beeblebrox stole.†

Y'all know I have a birthday coming up, right?


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Letting my geek flag fly.

Do Pigs Get Hairballs?

It's possible I do.

Last night, I finished all the knitting on the Vampirates sweater. Then I wove in ends.

For someone who knits in most of her ends as she goes, I sure had a lot of needlework to do.

First I tried spitting on my fingers and mashing the yarn ends together† to suitably configure them for threading through the eye of the needle, but they'd be just damp enough that the fibres would stick to my fingers and actually pull apart more.

So I stuck them in my mouth like my ancestors before me.

And ended up with a throat full of superwash.

Imagine the cat's surprise when I started *hornking* when he tried to sit in my lap.

[SUMMARY: Hornking a hairball on the cat? Priceless.]

Our fantasy draft is tonight. Brother has taken over commissioner duties for the league.

Thank the holy cats.

I used to have a lot of fun with it. I wrote funny, insightful, clever articles every week. I trash-talked with the best of them while maintaining benevolent stewardship of the rules.

Every year the whining got worse.

Last year's "Jack gets up earlier than me and gets better players. Can you change the add/drop every week... maybe make it random so it's fair to everybody?" left me completely cold. And over it.‡

I think it's good for the league and for their ex-Commishette to change regimes.§

But it's really hard not to keep calling Brother to remind him to bring pens and draft sheets and bye week sheets and...

[SUMMARY: Fantasy leagues come and go, but a big sister is forever.]

Unfortunately, our fantasy draft is tonight, coincident with the grand finale of the DNC.

Back story: historically, our drafts have been twelve rounds. Tonight, we're doing fifteen.

*tickticktick*

I couldn't care less about missing Obama's acceptance speech.

I am a little invested in the state of traffic as we try to make it home past the population zones, possibly when they're letting out.

There's some consolation in the fact that we'll be mostly streaming toward downtown while the masses are streaming out of downtown.

[SUMMARY: Did you not hear? I'm not commissioner. I'm allowed to whine now.]

Hans and I are going to take one last lunchtime peruse of the 16th Street Mall today and say farewell to the DNC and all its pamphlet-passing glory. You should see the pile of political paraphrenalia I've amassed.

All I need is the "Make Out, Not War" sticker and the donkey frisbee to make my life complete.

[SUMMARY: Marin's goals much exceed her reach, or what's an Internet for?]

CNN gave a shout out to my neighbourhood. Or at least that portion where we shop and drink.¶

If you look at the photo, go down the street as far as you can, you can just not quite see the Coral Room just beyond the tree.

[SUMMARY: That's two of my fifteen minutes.]
*************

Paprika Brasil - Hermès (Hermèssence)

Marin says: With a name like "Paprika," it's hard not to be influenced to think of a spice. And I definitely got strong spice at the first blast -- I would have called it pepper all on my own.

After it bloomed for a minute, I got violet and pepper. Or maybe violet and cedar. Cedar is kinda peppery. Since this is a Jean Claude Ellena, we'll see what the roll-out looks like.

After a half-hour, its lightened up a lot and now smells like fading violet with a slightly petroleum edge.#

Late in the evening, it reminded me very much of my Pink Jasmine, with its bright jasmine and white pepper notes.††

The Perfumed Court says: A woody spicy scent with notes of pimento,$ clove,‡‡ paprika, iris, green leaves, reseda, ember wood§§ and woody notes.

Hans says: It smells like... I always do that: "It smells like... I don't know."

I think my allergies are deadening my sense of smell. It smells like... wood! You know the wrappers, the little [Hans sign language for wrapper]... cedar? The wood wrappers on a cigar? It smells like the wood wrapper on a cigar.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Which seemed way more Miss Manners than stuffing yarn tails in my mouth.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): And sending emails to say, "Please print this email and take it to the mirror. Read it out loud to yourself and if you still want to put forth this idea once you've done that, make an immediate appointment for a vasectomy. We don't need your kind breeding."

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Before someone's head explodes. I'm not naming names.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): And by, "we," I mean, "I."

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Not as bad as it sounds. I think violet has a slightly petroleum edge anyway -- it's what makes it violet and not, say, lily.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): And I think I completely failed to mention the pepper in my review of Pink Jasmine. It has pepper. So now you know.

$FOOTNOTE (on the money): I'm giving myself credit for recognising pimiento as part of the pepper family. Otherwise I'd be o-fer and nobody wants that, right?

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Clove! Cool! I love clove! I can kinda see it now that I've read it.

§§FOOTNOTE (look behind you): I looked up "ember wood" on Wikipedia, but mostly I got firecraft and a character list from Elfquest.

Secret Pal 12 Question 9

In many communities, "the fair"† is a great place to visit and spend time with your family. It's also where many have entered one product or another (jams, cakes, even knitting)...

Have you ever entered your knitting (or anything else) in the fair?Would you ever consider it?

The first question is easy: no. I've never even been to a fair -- not the kind that has pie-baking contests and knitting displays, in any case.

The second question begs a little explanation and a tiny story.^

See, there's no Denver County Fair.@ There is a Colorado State Fair, but it's all the way the hell in Pueblo‡ and I've never found a compelling reason to go to it. My extremely limited understanding of the Colorado State Fair revolves around two things:

1. It's all about livestock and D-list musical acts% and, while I like looking at livestock, I don't want to drive 120 miles to Pueblo to do it, and
2. I once kuyped the cow from Colorado State Fair advertising to make Brother a fantasy baseball logo.§

Honestly? I read Stacey's account of entering her Lizard Ridge¶ in the North Carolina State Fair last year and my interest was piqued.

North Carolina has its Fair in a very reasonable October.+ Colorado's is in August.# So when I checked into it in October, prompted by Stacey's adventure, there was very little information. It was all gone until next year. Um... this year.

This question wound me up again, so I did a little research†† and found... there's still very little information.‡‡

So I emailed Debbie at the Colorado State Fair. If I find anything interesting,§§ I'll pass it on. As it stands, I'm sure it's too late to do anything for this year, as the Fair starts August 22.¶¶

Shame. It woulda gotten me out of the city for the DNC.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): [sic] The superfluous quotes are making my teeth itch. I don't want you to think I chose them.

@FOOTNOTE (atted): You can check. I'll wait here.

^FOOTNOTE (careted): There's *always* a story, isn't there?

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): 120 miles. And I'd have to get past the temptation of all those fossils and scenic byways, knowing it was hot, dusty, small-town Pueblo at the end of the trip.




%FOOTNOTE (percented): I freely admit this may be completely off-base. Though a quick glance at the concert package for this year's Fair tells us I may be closer than my ignorance should allow.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): All his fantasy teams are Cult of the World, COW for short. The Cult of the World cheer is, of course, "Moo." Also? This year's logo? No cow. Thus:




In case you were wondering, my fantasy team is the Beasts of Burden, or BOB for short. The BOB mascot is Donkey. The BOB cheer is the Outkast song, "B.O.B." BOB likes long walks on the beach, boys with a sense of humour, vodka and kittens. You're welcome.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Did I mention I'm going to finish my flippin' Lizard Ridge this month? I've entered the WIP Wrestling event in the Ravelympics. Yes, I am that dork. Of course, if it's anything like Greco-Roman wrestling, I get to grapple with sweaty menz. Dontcha wish your dorkness was hot like mine?

+FOOTNOTE (plussed): Just sayin'.




#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Just sayin' again.




††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): We're all about accuracy here at the Rickety Blog.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Question: In this day and age, why wouldn't you post everything you have on your website? Why have information available only by booklet and only by emailing someone? OK, end rant.

§§FOOTNOTE (tilt-a-whirl!): Like it's all knitting or there's no knitting and we need to stage a protest.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (are those alpacas at the Fair?): And even if I got a wild yarn up my ass, y'know... Ravelympics.

The Score

Y'know what? Sometimes you check and it turns out there *isn't* a dial tone% and it's not just him blowing you off.

Imagine.

The first thing The Spelling Bee Champ said to me when he called last night† was, "How's your spelling today?"‡ [8] five for calling, three for teasing.

He thanked me for my email.§ [5] two for polite, three for sincere.

He explained he wanted to call me the next day¶ but couldn't find my card. [2] one for taking the time to explain, one for worrying about me.

At one point he said, "Is this an awkward pause? It's not, right? Just a normal pause," which was contextually charming. [2] one for candid, one for charming

He told me he mentioned to Sarah -- before I even got 'hold of Sue -- he wanted to get 'hold of me. [2] one for thinking of me at all in the interim, one for at least trying to find me.

He thinks bar spelling bees would be an excellent pastime, and thinks we should form teams. Those who couldn't spell could still enjoy the fun by forming Fantasy Spelling Bee Leagues. [5] funny, funny, funny

He seemed refreshingly... candid. [1] refreshing!

He allowed me to teach him a little street slang,# and is now all over "hot mess."†† [2] nearly as white and goofy as me.

He was happy to keep telling me knitting is hot, and has been heard to elaborate by saying, "so hot" and using the phrase, "hot knitter." This became a sort of running joke. [6] three for sucking up to the primary hobby, one for continued use of the word "hot" in my presence and about my person, two for ongoing hilarity.

He wants to see me, spend time with me, and made a date with me for lunch on Saturday. [5] instant gratification! immediate ego boost! that's worth five points!

He told me I have nice skin, but allowed that it was dark, so... [3] two for the compliment, one for the tease.

He has at least one step-sister and many female cousins. [2] training.

He said he remembered kissing my ear. I said, "Neck too." "I kissed your neck?" "Oh, yeah." "That's hot." "Yes, it was." [1] hot... again

I said something racy and told him I was just trying to make him blush. He said he was. [2] sucking up

He is dog-sitting for friends for a week. [4] loyalty, kindness

The dogs arrived while I was on the phone with him. He said he'd call back. He did. [5] follow-through

He lives in the neighbourhood. [4] proximity

He noted my British orthography,^ heard the tale and correctly identified it as "pretentious." [3] one for noticing, one for teasing and one for just getting it.

Did I mention the kissing? [8] kissing!

He's very, very easy to talk to and he does it well, using good words and grammar. [12] two for low maintenance, two for ease of use, five for intelligence, three for articulation

He asked a lot of good questions, remembered a lot of key things and also just talked, like a conversation rather than just an interview/rake-over-the-coals. [6] four for attentiveness, two for versatility

He's an insomniac. [2] one for consanguinity,‡‡ one for potential for late night activity

He was the perfect mix of gentelman and pervert. [8] how often do you find that?

Now, he doesn't know who Mike Krzyzewski is, which means he's not a sports guy, which is unfortunate, but not a deal-breaker. And since I'm currently a card-carrying member of The Spelling Bee Champ Fan Club,§§ I'm not going to dock him any points.

Seriously? One thing I'm enjoying immensely is that I'm not all spun on this, but I am rather delighted. I think giddy, dizzy Marin isn't necessarily the best thing, the best omen, but I'm delighted to be delighted.

[SUMMARY: By my reckoning, The Champ has 98 points and is well on his way to cashing in for a lovely toaster, or any of hundreds of other prizes in the Rickety Blog Kharmic Green Stamp program.]

Thank you to the voters... all three of you. Yes, I realise there may have been more if I'd *told* you there was a poll in the sidebar.

Tomorrow: Blue Dye

%FOOTNOTE (percented): Figuratively speaking, I mean. At least in this case.

†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Note how subtly I slipped that in. Yes! He called!

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Dontcha love a guy who knows the fine art of dishing shit? It's so much friendlier when nobody's too delicate for a little joshing.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Like, sincerely. More than once.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Woke up hung over and thought he needed to call and maybe apologise because he was too forward. Dug in his pocket to find a business card from a psychologist at CU. Thought, "I must have been a real dick last night. She thinks I need help," and then, "either that or I'm going to end up being the dick who doesn't call her."

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Yeah, that's twice as funny as it sounds. The pasty leading the white.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): How proud are you right now, Stacey?

^FOOTNOTE (careted): Take that, elementary readers!

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I can spell "consanguinity," and also use it properly in a sentence.

§§FOOTNOTE (turn, turn, turn): He also gets a pass since, y'know, Duke lost three months ago. Let us not speak of it again.

Houston...

...loves the Nuggets.

Seriously, I've seen dozens of Nuggets jerseys† wandering the streets of here to two blocks from here.‡ And the Four Seasons is only a couple of blocks from where the Rockets play.

Huh. Maybe those guys in Nuggets colours really were Nuggets. Maybe they were staying at the Four Seasons with me. Ooooh... possible brush with fame.

Also, every time I see Gary Kubiak on the TiVi, I have to jump back just a little, 'cause I'll never get over him being a Bronco.§

Speaking of football, the Houstan Texans logo, like Nuggets gear, is EVERYWHERE. I note that, like Broncos fans,¶ some Texans fans don't know which direction the logo should point and it looks very odd, say, sideways on the rear window of a Suburban.

My fantasy football website is barred at this company and I must rely on the kindness of strangers% to set my team for this week. With any luck, strangers won't be my opponent this week and be tempted to trade in my running back core for Michael Vick.

[SUMMARY: I'm your dork with the sports report.]

Did I mention how lovely the weather is? And my skin is getting all pretty from this week in the not-desert climate. My hair, however, is heading# in new and exciting directions and no amount of silicone-based mousse can tame it.

[SUMMARY: Houston is opposite world.]

On the way from the airport, there was a body ornamentation barn†† with a giant billboard that said, "Tattoos! Piercings! $15."

[SUMMARY: Caught between temptation and horror once again.]

I must work now. But now you know all the important stuff about Houston.

You're welcome.



†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Tanks? Tops? Blouses?

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): The grand sum total of my Houston geography.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): For those not Bronco fans (*coughKellycough*), Gary Kubiak backed up John Elway at QB for some time, then came back to coach such luminaries as Brian Griese and Jake Plummer before achieving the head coaching job for expansion team Houston. "Luminaries," for those scoring at home, is a dry, sardonic joke.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): You may not want to get me started on people who put the Bronco logo flat on its neck like the horse is rearing, rather than on its point like the horse is running as it clearly should be. I apparently have too much time on my hands and not enough to worry about and we could be here all day while I rant and foam about that particular issue.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): Well, Brother... and it doesn't get much stranger than Brother. Except maybe Brother progeny.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Ha! Pun!

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I am neither indulging in hyperbole for the sake of humour nor am I making this up. It was a frickin' barn.

Time to Lick the Pig

Yes, it's brain lint time again. That time when rug burns sing, knitting goes feral and pigs get tongue-baths from winsome tots.†

Have you ever seen one of those French slice-of-life movies? Personally, I find them boring and awful, but I've seen one so I have some basis for comparison here. This first bit is basically my own little slice-of-life. It has no purpose beyond the "Huh."

When I was cosied up in my comfy chair Monday afternoon, I heard sirens from the north. They came closer and closer and a big, white fire truck pulled up right in front of my house.‡

The driver (wearing an official-looking navy blue uniform with a badge) and a fireman (wearing the giant fire coat and fire boots and placing his fire hat on his head as he hit the ground) hopped out. The fireman grabbed an axe and they both turned toward my house.

They looked up the long flight of stairs to the front door.§ They took two steps left and looked up my neighbour's stairs. They circled around opposite sides of the truck and disappeared, presumably to look at the across-the-street neighbour's door.

They came back around to my side. The fireman put the axe back in the hold of the truck and they both hopped back in.

Then they hopped out, grabbed the axe, milled¶ for a few minutes, jumped in the truck and drove off.

[SUMMARY: Huh.]

The movie people were back across the street from the office yesterday. Now they're gone again. I imagine it would be a royal pain in the ass to put up tents, take down tents, up with port-a-potties, down with port-a-potties every single day.

George Karl, Carmelo Anthony and Allen Iverson will be filming next week.

I think George Karl is going to be surprisingly good with his seven words onscreen. I seen him on the news last night and I think he's got that certain something.

[SUMMARY: Uh... really?]

Um... Brother? You won't appreciate this. I'm going to give you this 37 seconds of your life as a gift. Just skip to the next one.

I leave for New York a week from today. I think it's about time I think about my shopping list for Rhinebeck# and travel knitting.

Yorick will be done. Sparkle Socks will be done, or nearly. I'll certainly take the Massive Debt Father's day Arrrgyles for Brother and I may start a pair of Rainbow Socks out of a nice ball of Austermann Step with Aloe and Jojoba I've been hoarding.

It would probably help if I had a better Christmas plan. Both with what I should be knitting in the tens of FAA-supported hours I'll be experiencing next week and with what I should (and shouldn't) buy at Rhinebeck.

Musing.

Pig-licking.

[SUMMARY: Are we going to do this every week, AntiM?]

Oh, wait! Not this one either. Try the next exit.

Speaking of Rhinebeck... I'm going to be a bingo square in Stitchy McYarnpants's Rhinebeck Bingo.




It's not some big, unforeseen honour or anything. I volunteered.†† But, y'know... didn't get rejected.

I just thought y'all should know, just in case it makes you happy.

[SUMMARY: Attention whore.]

OK. You can tune back in now. It's football.

Just in case y'all were sitting there wondering, "Man, I haven't heard anything about Marin's fantasy football world lately. I wonder how she's doing."

I am at the top of both of my Pick 'Em leagues (one boys, one girls). Even after picking the Broncos in both leagues last week and even picking them against the Colts in one league two weeks ago.

I am firmly planted in the middle of my fantasy league, a stunningly mediocre 3-2 record and a supa-hot one-game winning streak to my name. Or the name of BOB, as it goes. Brother -- because I know you're dying to know -- has crept out of the sub-basement and is in second-to-last place with a far inferior 2-3 record.

And, while our feisty Canadian friend remains a few points ahead of me in the overall standings in the Onion Shattered Fantasies League, I whipped her sassy Canadian ass this week and am roaring toward a comeback.

[SUMMARY: I don't suck at sucking as much as you thought.]

DayQuil isn't supposed to make you dopey, is it?

You don't suppose it's just me, do you?

[SUMMARY: Getting warmer.]

I miss my Fling. I think I even miss the Male Lady just a little. Mostly I miss being able to breathe. I'm pretty sure a lack of snot-free oxygen to the brain is causing these blogblahs.

Please have a lovely Wednesday. For all our sakes.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): My father, for the record, says the kid in the pig-licking photo reminds him oh, so much of me. I was afraid to ask if it's just the blond curls or if it's the insouciant tongue action.

Hey! Stop that! My father is NOT thinking that kind of tongue action!

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): I suddenly became very aware of my insurance.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): For a moment, I honestly wondered if my house was on fire and they were seriously contemplating letting it burn so they wouldn't have to climb the stairs.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Two people can mill. I've seen it with my own two eyes. Which... don't mill. Even though there's two. Like the story about the people. Please make me stop.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Because pretty yarn out of context is a dangerous thing for the pocketbook and the stash. There are so many (whisper) useless hunks of fibre in my stash because I bought a ball or a skein in magpie mode and don't have enough to do anything compelling with it.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): With my hand waving madly in the air, shrieking, "Oo! Oo! Pick me! Pick me!"

The Good, The Bad and the Fuzzy

The good...

Milling fuzziness



The bad...

Hey, buddy, ya gotta a little schmutz...



The why would people do this to animals.

Oh, the humanity. Alpacity. Whatever.



And this was by far the best part of that abysmal game:

Spamalot was very funny and referential. Oh, so referential. I loved the mocking of Andew Lloyd Webber.

I don't want to say too much because I don't want to spoil it for Brother, who will be going this weekend.†

[SUMMARY: And that's the weekend. Back to you in New York, Bob.]

Speaking of BOB...

A little fantasy football break, because y'all knitters will think this is funny:

Last week, when I won, I posted this message to the league message board§:

SUBJECT: I am a powerhouse...

MESSAGE: ...hear me roar.

If I suck next week, I'll be back to the meek little mousie thing% you all know and love.

XOXO

M

A note from Jack (against whose team the mighty BOB‡ was matched this weekend):

SUBJECT: bob¶

MESSAGE#: I think not... prepare for complete and total shame. I say Humbly And no not the type of deep remorseful shame all women (and by all I mean the 3 total, including certain jcpenny women’sunderwear circular Advertisements, in his life) feel when they have stooped so low as to have had Matt penetrate their sacred inner sanctum....

SUBJECT: re: bob

MESSAGE: Matt was in my yarn room?

[SUMMARY: It's funny. You know you want to laugh.]

By the way? When I got home from the game and post-game festivities,†† I found a follow-up from Jack that just said, "never mind."

See, I'm beating him 98-74 and I still have a player going tonight. Jack is done.

[SUMMARY: Put a fork in 'im!]

OK, yarnsters, I've done my best, but I can't fake it any longer. All I want to do is go file stuff over in Ravelry.

[SUMMARY: Y'all understand.]

Oh... and the work thing.

Happy Monday!


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Or for any of you who may yet see it and don't already know the entire script of Holy Grail by heart.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): They know me as about as meek and mousie as y'all know me. Don't worry, I still think I'm funny.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Beasts of Burden -- my team. Donkey from Schreck is my mascot.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): After the severe trouncing in Week 1, mind you. Fantasy football is nothing if it's not about the unfounded trash-talking.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Note the disrespectful use of all low-case letters. Actually, Jack may not be clever enough to subtly dis me like that, but I'll give him clever points because he's about to dig himself a clever hole out of which he cannot climb...

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): ...thus. By the way? sic on all that. I just cutted and pasted. And didn't edit a thing.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): read: a trip to the Corral.

SO Unfair!

I had to set my fantasy league before running off to pick up my Broncos tickets and there was my invitation to Ravelry and I signed in and my name is TheAntiM and you can come say hi and make me your friend and all that and do you think the Harlot or Juno would let me be their Ravelry friend 'cause that would make my inner stalker very very happy but that's not the point because I have mere seconds before I have to be out of the house and I couldn't do more than barely dabble and I almost forgot to set my fantasy team not that that would be a tragedy since I didn't make any changes from last week but still I had to at least LOOK at it to determine that and if I had had to make changes I may have been late and that would have sucked but not as much as having a Ravelry me all set up and being completely unable to revel in my Ravelry and I really really do have to leave now so think of me languising at the game without my Ravelry.

To Be Fair...

...Ally is doing a remarkable job of sucking in our Onion Shattered Fantasies league. Give her a shout out next time you're over at her place.

Compare-a-Sin

First, I'd like to address Ally's request that I discuss the current leader in the Onion Shattered Expectations Football League. I can only assume that at the time she wrote that, her team† was in the dubious‡ lead.

Not so much now.

Our leader is the ominously-named That Foot is Me. He/She has *six times* the points our Ally does.%

I, on the other hand have -245 points. Yes, that's a negative. Apparently, even when I try to pick losers, I manage to pick losers at losing.

This explains so much about my love life.

Lust life.

Whatever.

My regular fantasy league isn't doing any better, but I am choosing like a champ^ in the two Pick 'Em leagues I'm in. Somehow, I can identify winners in groups.

Huh.

[SUMMARY: Maybe I need to rethink my views on polyamory.§]

In fibre news, I purchased some Mountain Colors sock yarn¶ Thursday night during my little drop-in to Stitch Therapy at Sylvia's New House of Fuzzy Crack. As it is gift yarn, I chose the colours strictly for the recipients and ended up with brown and red.

It wasn't until I got home that I realised I had, in my hot little hands, the correct versions of the Not-So-Deadly Sins received in my Seven Deadly Sins Sock Club inaugural shipment.

Just look:


The New Sins



Side-by-side comparison: Wrath



Side-by-side comparison: Gluttony



See the difference?


I know the new red looks pink in the sun, but it's much closer to true in the shadowy pictures.#

[SUMMARY: It isn't very entertaining, but it is pictures of yarn. And that makes it all better.]

Oh, look! KNITBLOG!

OK, now I need to get to work. Happy Monday.

†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Canadian Bacon

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): For those of you scoring at home, the Onion league allows you to pick eight scoring units from a list every week and whomever fucks up most royally wins. You get *negative* points for touchdowns and BIG points for completely failing to get in the end zone at all.

%FOOTNOTE (percented -- 600 percented, to be exact): 30

^FOOTNOTE (careted): I have 12 right in one league and 11 in the other. And on top of both.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Just kidding. I think it's like being gay or straight: you're either cut out for it from the very beginning or you're just plain not. And holy cats, am I not.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): As GIFTS. NOT to add to the overwhelming sock stash. Don't look at me that way.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Shadowy Yarn on a Shadowy Planet. Anybody get the reference? Ally? Lyda?

Three Things

TTHFCIF

1) Here is the layout of my life for the next week-and-a-half:

• I have a huge, looming deadline that was Friday (the 14th) but I think I can push it to Monday, which is scant comfort because...



• I have the Rocky Mountain Mineral Law Foundation Mineral Title Examination all day Thursday and Friday so I can't really work on said deadline either day, and...



• I would come in to work all this weekend, but The Client is playing musical offices, having just remodeled an entire new floor to accommodate the growinggrowinggrowing company and I'm moving from my cozy little cubicle on 13 to my very own office on 5, which sounds nice but means I can't work between 4:00 today and 2:00 Sunday afternoon which is killing me because two weeks ago I said, "Yeah, no problem, I'll have this done by Friday the 14th," with utter arrogance and hubris despite the fact that...



• I now have approximately 50 hours worth of work to do to finish this.

This is a lot of words to gain your compassion and let you know that blogging may take a back seat next week.

[SUMMARY: Shameless shilling for sympathy.]

2) The Onion† has a Shattered Expectations fantasy football league. You don't have to draft teams or anything.

In short, you pick two QB, two RB, two WR, one kicker and one defense from a set list every week and whomever screws up the most wins. There are legitimate prizes from The Onion, but mostly there's the fun of playing. If any of you is interested, sign up before Sunday at The Onion Fantasy Football Shattered Expectations.

Our league is Shattered Elks, our password, Elway.‡

3) My fantasy about this weekend:

• Friday: Devise brilliant method of shortcutting workload by taking two folders tonight to work on at home, a little art, a little wine, a lot of quality sleep



• Saturday: Up early (not too), notary skills applied in Littleton and check picked up, followed by trip to bank (where they have doughnuts and coffee), my favourite song is on the radio on the way home, then I experience unbelievably productive (but surprisingly short) work hours, a little more art, a little more wine, a surprise call from the Fling wanting to rub my feet tonight and cook me breakfast in the morning. Sex.



• Sunday: A happy morning snuggle, a cheery drive home in soft sunlight, two hours of insanely productive work time (while the laundry runs), a couple of hours of knitting and TiVi catch-up ETA: Broncos! (while laundry finishes), call Kelley and tell her I'll pick her up at 5:15 for dinner reservations at Vesta and Lavell Crawford, eat a lovely dinner, laugh our asses off, nightcap at the Coral, home to bed at a reasonable hour, happy in the knowledge that I only have about ten hours of work left on the deadline.

[SUMMARY: Monkeys soaring out of my butt.]

The probably reality of my weekend:

• Friday: No brilliance, no art, a lotta whine, an ill-conceived late night at the Coral,% lack of quality sleep.



• Saturday: Up at the crack of 11:30, notary skills applied in Littleton and check picked up too late to deposit, the National Weather Service issues a tornado warning on the I-25 corridor for the next six hours on the radio on the way home, get a ticket for expired plates three blocks from home, no phone calls - check dial tone, experience unbelievably frustrating work hours, check for dial tone, forced death march to cousin's studio for a little more art, cheap wine, call Brother on pretense of checking... something§..., collapse at home, check for dial tone, bed at 1:00. C-batteries dead, damnit.



• Sunday: Cat nose in my ear at 5:15, realise because of undisciplined dumbassedness on Saturday I can't just roll over and go back to sleep, hours of insanely disorganised but frantic work time, ETA: Broncos!, call from Kelley saying she's picking me up in 45 minuts for dinner at Vesta and Lavell Crawford, realise never did laundry, haven't done laundry for three weeks, put together weird retro outfit from items in back of closet, eat a lovely dinner, laugh our asses off, nightcap at the Coral, home to bed at midnight, tossing and turning with worry over the massive amounts of work left to be done by next Monday.

[SUMMARY: Well, I'll laugh my ass off. At least I have that going for me.]

4¶) Look what I found!



Guess what I want for Christmas?


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Which ranks right up there with The Daily Show as my main source of news.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Don't hate me 'cause I homer.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): Pronounced "Corral" by those in the know. snobsnobsnob

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): The cell phone equivalent of checking for dial tone.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): You didn't really think I was going to stick to three things, did you?

I Have a Fantasy

Oh, fantasy draft, how I love you.

How I loathe your aftermath.%

Boys can become real pussies over fantasy football, let me tell you.

Our league is usually pretty easy-going, but there are little flair-ups† once or twice a season that make me want to scramble all their teams and leave the commissioner duties in the not-so-capable paws of Quill, the Cat for Scale.

[SUMMARY: Really? We're whining about fantasy football now?]

Old Chicago had a fine draft party special ($6 all-you-can-eat pizza) and, well, they have beer.

In fantasy commissioning,‡ as in many things in life, I like to maintain a policy of calm-before-the-storm me-time.

When I was Meg's maid of honour, I hosted her shower at the Fourth Story, a lovely restaurant that used to be on top of what used to be the Tattered Cover in Cherry Creek. I showed up an hour early so I could set up, then have a glass of wine by myself.

I like to get to work early and get a glass of water or a cup of coffee and settle in a little before the rest of the work world is buzzing around.

I'm usually the first to a party, and I'm always happy to help the host because mostly I'm just happy to be there and have a few minutes to breathe and grab a cocktail before it gets too social.

You may note a "drinking alone" theme. Don't be alarmed.

Pretty much how I handle fantasy draft. An empty table and a full Sam Adams and I feel I've reached a goal.

Look. No men. Can you believe this falls under the heading "fantasy"?


Then the boys show up and, since I'm keeping track of everybody drafted and available, and since I'm drafting for myself and Eric (who didn't attend... again), it gets a little hectic.

To be fair -- because I'm ALWAYS fair$ -- since only six out of ten of our league made it to the draft party, most people were drafting for two. Most of the guys that don't show are lucky if their rosters don't include Michael Vick, Roger Goodell and Gisele Bundchen.

But none of them has the commissioner drafting for them, a woman held to that higher standard.

[SUMMARY: Did I accuse the boys of whining? Bad pot! Bad, bad black pot!]

Oh, look! It's the boys from poker!


And today the boy-whining begins.

"Jack gets up early and he gets all the good players. Can you make free agency random every week so he can't take all the players while I'm sleeping?"§

"Can you run up a complete list of everybody's draft and email it to us so we can have plenty of time to lodge complaints before today's free agency deadline?"§

No.

HELL no.

But this too shall pass, my team is solid and -- if nothing else -- it means football is back and hockey and basketball aren't far behind.

[SUMMARY: Are you ready for some FOOTBALL?!]

Are you ready for some KNITBLOG?!¶

Louet's Pearl for some Cookie A patterns from Wendy at Lanas de Libélula. Note the special bonus Soak and the very nice sachet thingie she sends with everything. It has lavender, I'm pretty sure, and maybe cedar. It smells really good and makes me happy and... y'know... gift with purchase.



And I got these from The Knittery in Australia. It's sock yarn. With cashmere.#:




Daphne sent a nice note (I like nice notes with my yarn. So personal) and this:

I come from a land down under



Gummy koala!

Which Cat for Scale licked shortly after this picture was snapped. He then proceeded to make biscuits†† all over the Girl Colours Big Baby, so I had to shoot him.

[SUMMARY: Still a knitblog.]

No, no... he's still alive, but I'm getting my revenge by posting a less-than-glamourous photo of him that makes him look like a Moonie after a chronic break (note the ravaged Girl Colours Big Baby in the background).

Oh, and I'm making him take over the fantasy league.


All your fantasy teams are belong to us




%FOOTNOTE (percented): Almost poetical, don't you think? The way "draft" and "aftermath" flow?

†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Preparation H. I need Preparation H for my fantasy flair-ups. Wow. Imagine the potential for Google abuse with that sentence.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): commissioneering? commissionetting?

$FOOTNOTE (moneyed): Somewhere, Brother is laughing.

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

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): I think I'm clever. I'm confident Hank Williams, Jr. would agree with me.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Once again, with nylon. 20% cashmere and 20% nylon and the nylon wins again. Nylon! Reigning champion! Spoiler of the luxury feel of luxury fibres! I now have silk/nylon and cashmere/nylon and they both feel kind of dry and fuzzy (tennis ball fuzzy, not bunny fuzzy) rather than silky or soft. Don't get me wrong, it's pretty. And I can still tell... whomever... that I knit them cashmere socks or mittens or... whatever. But it doesn't feel like cashmere.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): It's a problem -- he has claws.

Time is Running Short

There are still deadlines. Deadlines everywhere. Does this faze me? No.

My fantasy football draft is tonight. I have done, let's see... I've pulled the list of bye weeks. Now, if it were just me, playing little fantasy games,† I'd just pull a cheat sheet from somewhere and plan on lots of beer and little actual sporting success this season. As I am the commissioner of our little league,‡ I really should make up some draft sheets and do up some numbers to pick for draft order and all that. Am I buckling down to do that? No.

I really must get to the post office at lunch because, despite her ongoing abuse, Ally really should get her final Secret Pal package. It's only been two months. Am I carefully plotting my schedule to include this additional stop in my day? No.§

[SUMMARY: Work avoidance as fine art.]

Because I have pictures of an FO and that trumps all responsibility and sense of shame.

[SUMMARY: Pictures of yarn make it all better.]

But first...

Kisses and loves to Knit Picks for replacing, without question, the leprosy-ridden circ and the deformed Options cable I received. I contacted them about these items well out of the 30-day prescribed return period and they didn't fuss or fret. They just sent replacement items and apologised profusely for subjecting me to inferiour goods. We all know this is probably how it should be. We also all know it's a rare and wonderful thing when customer service runs so beautifully.

And how painful it is when your knitting is bollocksed up for days -- OK, any period of time -- because of a wrong, missing or wonky product? Y'all know.

[SUMMARY: Knit Picks is my new best friend.¶]

In entertainment news, I went to see a group called Face in Lafayette last night.

A quick tangent about Lafayette: driving up Highway 287, we came upon a majestic city sign on a corner. You know what I mean -- the miniature wall surrounded by flowering plants, proudly announcing the name of the town and perhaps its motto or primary tourist feature ("Home of the World's Largest Artichoke!"). This sign said, simply, "City of Lafayette." For miles around, fields. Big sky. Little brown birds. Audible crickets. Giving lie to the concept of "city."

I said to my brother, "And me without my camera."#

[SUMMARY: It's all about the blog.]

Now a little backstory to the evening's festivities: our father, a man not given to excess of anything but fishing equipment and, for some reason, shoes, sent a very cryptic email to Brother, eBeth and me about six weeks ago, under the subject line, "A Date."

He asked us to pick one of two dates and keep it open. He said he was getting us tickets to something that he wasn't going to explain, but he guaranteed we'd enjoy. Something we *had* to see.

Once he got the tickets, he announced that he wouldn't be going, as he would be in Alaska, but have fun. He then explained it was an a cappella rock band. He assured us that this was certainly not his sort of music (i.e. -- rock), but they were so amazing he was a fan.

Brother and I agreed the question of "What does Dad think I have to see?" was almost more interesting than anything that could possibly go on stage.

[SUMMARY: Anticipaaaashun... it's making me wait...]

A brief review: They are excellent at what they do, though there is a sort of Up With People veneer that I suspect they have to maintain for their demographic and in the scope of a cappella contests in which they compete.

The song selection was mostly soft rock pop stuff, which is not so much my thing. There were a couple of soulful, gospellish songs that really worked well in that style (and the big guy has a hell of a lot of soul for a white dude). I have to admit "Calling All Angels" is far more interesting as a harmonic vocal thing than it ever was on the radio. OK, the Pink Panther theme was awesome and Safety Dance was brilliant.

I still say if they can do O Fortuna, they can do YYZ.

Which brings us to my next career: I want to be the Malcolm McLaren of a cappella music. I came up with a list of several songs that would be really cool and sound nothing like Train.††

[SUMMARY: Nothing should sound too much like Train if it can help it.]

My questionable taste moment for the night: The owner of the venue (who talked a lot, said the little black kettle) said, "The first time these guys came on my stage, my jaw just dropped." I started giggling helplessly, 'cause -- y'know -- if six guys came all over my stage, I'd probably be a little stunned too.

[SUMMARY: I'm twelve.]

OK, you're not here for the music reviews. You're here for the fibre.

[SUMMARY: Still a knitblog.]

The first Tulip sweater, she is finished. And washed. Thus:



I promise you the left sleeve isn't missing or deformed or anything. The picture's just artsier this way.

[SUMMARY: Is too.]

And, because I can, a crane. For me. 'Cause sometimes you got to do for yourself instead of waiting on others to do for you.‡‡

[SUMMARY: Yes, that's dirty. Still twelve.]




†FOOTNOTE (crossed): The kind that don't involve C-batteries.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Which sounds impressive and glamourous until you realise it's all about being the secretary.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): But you fuck one goat... (some of you got that, right?)

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Despite any implications from the last post, this does not entitle them to a share of my big dick. Of the big dick I'm... oh, you know what I mean.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): You know, a picture paints a thousand words, so since I don't have a picture, I have to keep yammering about it until I'm convinced you have a clear mental image. You're welcome.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): When Doves Cry, Ghostriders in the Sky, Love Cats, and a version of Ain't No Sunshine that would allow for some really dramatic staging (to name a few).

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Yeah, I didn't get any this weekend. I'm not bitter. I have my crane. And my dog. And this lamp.