Here, he posed:
And here is a candid shot:
Now why don't you go off and speculate exactly what measurement Tommy might be indicating in this shot.
Happy Friday!
Showing posts with label Tommy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tommy. Show all posts
Friday, July 10, 2009
Thank Me Later
Tommy. Oh, there was a street fair and a BBQ, blah blah blah, but I know what y'all want out of these occasions. And what you want is Tommy.
Here, he posed:
And here is a candid shot:
Now why don't you go off and speculate exactly what measurement Tommy might be indicating in this shot.
Happy Friday!
Here, he posed:
And here is a candid shot:
Now why don't you go off and speculate exactly what measurement Tommy might be indicating in this shot.
Happy Friday!
Friday, July 18, 2008
Midsummer at the Lake of Good and Evil
You know how they say you can tell how happy a biker is by the bugs in his teeth?
Actually, if Cutest Little Car was that happy, it was because of all the attention she got by throwing temper tantrums† on the way to the lake.
But once we got the tire patched and spent a lot of quality time with various tire shops along I-76 not remotely prepared to provide low-low profile run-flat tires,‡ we had a great drive.
[SUMMARY: Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the show?]
It was a subdued@ year at the lake. Connie couldn't come because her brother died Monday and Jenny and I both promised her Mary, her daughter, would make it home safe and sound.
I said I'd try to get Shannon, her husband, home safe too, but I wasn't making any guarantees on that one.
I took a much smaller cabin this year. The 2BR/2B suite just seemed like overkill for one little ol' me, so I ended up on the other side, facing the lake.§
There was a big spider in the bathroom.
[SUMMARY: What I Killed on my Summer Vacation.]
The doom and gloom continues.
Remember Junie Mae's?
Home of the best biscuits and gravy in the world, homemade jam and migas to die for?
I think we all shed a little tear when we saw that Friday morning.
And I forgot my vegetables.
And my special pillow.
And my books.
Also? The Blue Period Scarf and its attached ball of silk went into the water.^
[SUMMARY: This was a vacation?]
On the brighter side,¶ there's Burnout for the Cure.$
Matt and Laurie, of Suburban Sedation Crew fame, uncle and aunt of Tommy,# brought their family this year, which was splendid.
Mary had kids to play with, which made the "keeping her safe to get her home to her mother" thing so much easier.
But you always have to keep a close eye on kids.
One minute they're here...
...the next they're gone.
I wish y'all could meet Shanny.% No, no... I wish y'all could TRAVEL with Shanny. The inside joke is, "garlic press," because one year, in an effort to think of some smartass, farfetched item Shanny wouldn't have, they asked him for a garlic press.
Which he produced.
Shanny uses his big white truck the way a lot of women use their purses: a way to never, ever be without something you may need.††
[SUMMARY: Everybody need a little Shanny in their life.]
On the list of other good things from the lake, nightly fire pits and s'mores.‡‡
Matt and Jenny supervise Carl's fire pit skills.
S'mores almost always comes with kid cuddling. Never a bad thing.
Braden and Matt, Mary and Shannon
And the weather? Under the ongoing heading, "global warming, my ass," it was 94 on Friday and 86 on Saturday. The coolest it's been any other time I've gone to the lake is 104. I'm not exaggerating.
We had vodka for breakfast Friday.
We had cupcakes for breakfast Sunday.
[SUMMARY: Good things come to those with no sense of propriety.]
You know what bugs me, though?§§
[SUMMARY: I think I'm funny.]
Despite the grousing, it's still the most relaxing thing I do all year. Even with spiders in the bathroom and beetles in the chocolate.
Bye-bye lake. See you next year.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): In the form of a flat tire. From a nail or something. I guess not her fault, but still...
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): The nice tire patcher in Keenesburg offered to trade tires with the guys who brought their Ford F350s in while he was working on mine. "You'll never feel closer to the land," I said, by way of helping.
@FOOTNOTE (atted): As opposed to subdude, who is the dude under the dude. Yeah, I still think I'm funny.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): The view was nice, but everybody else was facing north, and I kept having to come out of my cabin, around the corner and into the big flat area they all shared to see if people were up and about in the mornings. I think next year, I'll ask for Cabin 11, the small unit facing north, so I can share with my lake peeps.
^FOOTNOTE (careted): And smells like a lagoon. Let's just call it pre-blocking, shall we?
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): About damn time.
$FOOTNOTE (moneyed): I had to take a picture, 'cause you might not have believed me otherwise.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded):
%FOOTNOTE (percented): Also? One of the funniest people I know. Oh, I try to stay cool, but really... last year, while we were at the Spur waiting for our pre-dinner drinks to come from the bar, Jim Croce somehow came up and Shanny sang, "If I could shave mimes in a brothel..." (to the tune of "Time in a Bottle," in case you didn't get that). He reminded me of that during this year's Spur trip and I giggled helplessly and randomly all night.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Like a hair dryer, a banana or a labelmaker. Y'know, that "if Monty Hall asks, I've got it" thing.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Gourmet s'mores one night. I brought Hershey's Symphony bars with almonds and toffee chips. It seemed like a good idea, but mostly it gave the impression of having pebbles or maybe beetles in the mix. When you eat outside, "Is this a... special... candy bar?" is a vital question.
§§FOOTNOTE (swirling smoke off toased marshmallows): I can see myself!
Actually, if Cutest Little Car was that happy, it was because of all the attention she got by throwing temper tantrums† on the way to the lake.
But once we got the tire patched and spent a lot of quality time with various tire shops along I-76 not remotely prepared to provide low-low profile run-flat tires,‡ we had a great drive.
[SUMMARY: Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the show?]
It was a subdued@ year at the lake. Connie couldn't come because her brother died Monday and Jenny and I both promised her Mary, her daughter, would make it home safe and sound.
I said I'd try to get Shannon, her husband, home safe too, but I wasn't making any guarantees on that one.
I took a much smaller cabin this year. The 2BR/2B suite just seemed like overkill for one little ol' me, so I ended up on the other side, facing the lake.§
There was a big spider in the bathroom.
[SUMMARY: What I Killed on my Summer Vacation.]
The doom and gloom continues.
Remember Junie Mae's?
Home of the best biscuits and gravy in the world, homemade jam and migas to die for?
I think we all shed a little tear when we saw that Friday morning.
And I forgot my vegetables.
And my special pillow.
And my books.
Also? The Blue Period Scarf and its attached ball of silk went into the water.^
[SUMMARY: This was a vacation?]
On the brighter side,¶ there's Burnout for the Cure.$
Matt and Laurie, of Suburban Sedation Crew fame, uncle and aunt of Tommy,# brought their family this year, which was splendid.
Mary had kids to play with, which made the "keeping her safe to get her home to her mother" thing so much easier.
But you always have to keep a close eye on kids.
One minute they're here...
...the next they're gone.
I wish y'all could meet Shanny.% No, no... I wish y'all could TRAVEL with Shanny. The inside joke is, "garlic press," because one year, in an effort to think of some smartass, farfetched item Shanny wouldn't have, they asked him for a garlic press.
Which he produced.
Shanny uses his big white truck the way a lot of women use their purses: a way to never, ever be without something you may need.††
[SUMMARY: Everybody need a little Shanny in their life.]
On the list of other good things from the lake, nightly fire pits and s'mores.‡‡
Matt and Jenny supervise Carl's fire pit skills.
S'mores almost always comes with kid cuddling. Never a bad thing.
Braden and Matt, Mary and Shannon
And the weather? Under the ongoing heading, "global warming, my ass," it was 94 on Friday and 86 on Saturday. The coolest it's been any other time I've gone to the lake is 104. I'm not exaggerating.
We had vodka for breakfast Friday.
We had cupcakes for breakfast Sunday.
[SUMMARY: Good things come to those with no sense of propriety.]
You know what bugs me, though?§§
[SUMMARY: I think I'm funny.]
Despite the grousing, it's still the most relaxing thing I do all year. Even with spiders in the bathroom and beetles in the chocolate.
Bye-bye lake. See you next year.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): In the form of a flat tire. From a nail or something. I guess not her fault, but still...
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): The nice tire patcher in Keenesburg offered to trade tires with the guys who brought their Ford F350s in while he was working on mine. "You'll never feel closer to the land," I said, by way of helping.
@FOOTNOTE (atted): As opposed to subdude, who is the dude under the dude. Yeah, I still think I'm funny.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): The view was nice, but everybody else was facing north, and I kept having to come out of my cabin, around the corner and into the big flat area they all shared to see if people were up and about in the mornings. I think next year, I'll ask for Cabin 11, the small unit facing north, so I can share with my lake peeps.
^FOOTNOTE (careted): And smells like a lagoon. Let's just call it pre-blocking, shall we?
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): About damn time.
$FOOTNOTE (moneyed): I had to take a picture, 'cause you might not have believed me otherwise.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded):
%FOOTNOTE (percented): Also? One of the funniest people I know. Oh, I try to stay cool, but really... last year, while we were at the Spur waiting for our pre-dinner drinks to come from the bar, Jim Croce somehow came up and Shanny sang, "If I could shave mimes in a brothel..." (to the tune of "Time in a Bottle," in case you didn't get that). He reminded me of that during this year's Spur trip and I giggled helplessly and randomly all night.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Like a hair dryer, a banana or a labelmaker. Y'know, that "if Monty Hall asks, I've got it" thing.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Gourmet s'mores one night. I brought Hershey's Symphony bars with almonds and toffee chips. It seemed like a good idea, but mostly it gave the impression of having pebbles or maybe beetles in the mix. When you eat outside, "Is this a... special... candy bar?" is a vital question.
§§FOOTNOTE (swirling smoke off toased marshmallows): I can see myself!
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Shameless
Every time Tommy goes up on the blog, the hit counter whirls around like the dollars on display at the pump on a tank of premium gas for an 18-wheeler.
Note the topicality.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Drop In, Drop Out
Hey. The Tulip Sweater is pretty cool. And fast.
Except for the part where the counting to eight was nearly too much and I forgot the seed stitch at the first colour change and I swear I didn't ask Genius Knitter Sarah to join my book club† just so she could help me with my knitting and count to eight for me and save me from my dorkest self, but, well...
I've long advocated that one of the best tools you can take with you camping is a college football player.
Remember Tommy? Once carried a 75-quart cooler on his shoulder, over the hill to the lake so we wouldn't have to pack our lunch in or go back to camp. Best. Camping. Equipment. EVER.
It doesn't hurt to have a genius knitter at your side through many of life's adventures either. Just sayin'.
Much knitting could happen tonight. I may even have pictures tomorrow.
'Cause, y'know... knitting pictures are second only to college football players in making it all better.
[SUMMARY: Still a knitblog. A knitblog with college football players.]
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Cormac McCarthy's "The Road." Save your money. Good for discussion, bad for the soul.
Except for the part where the counting to eight was nearly too much and I forgot the seed stitch at the first colour change and I swear I didn't ask Genius Knitter Sarah to join my book club† just so she could help me with my knitting and count to eight for me and save me from my dorkest self, but, well...
I've long advocated that one of the best tools you can take with you camping is a college football player.
Remember Tommy? Once carried a 75-quart cooler on his shoulder, over the hill to the lake so we wouldn't have to pack our lunch in or go back to camp. Best. Camping. Equipment. EVER.
It doesn't hurt to have a genius knitter at your side through many of life's adventures either. Just sayin'.
Much knitting could happen tonight. I may even have pictures tomorrow.
'Cause, y'know... knitting pictures are second only to college football players in making it all better.
[SUMMARY: Still a knitblog. A knitblog with college football players.]
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Cormac McCarthy's "The Road." Save your money. Good for discussion, bad for the soul.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Big FO... oh, and the weekend too
I'm too sexy for this yard.
First, CLCWWW† went to the MiniDoctor last week (as y'all know if you've been paying attention) and got a clean bill of health. And a bath. Look how pretty!
Friday night was mild mayhem, starting with lunch‡ with Kelley, drinks with Kelley, more drinks with Kelley, pedicure and drink§ with Annie, drinks with Annie and a stupid, stupid round of waiting for a boy at Favourite Bar.¶
Saturday was perhaps a little more sensible, at least on the outset, as the Drunken Knitters (DK Nation represennnnnt!) took off for a field trip to the Bucksnort Saloon in scenic Sphinx Park, Colorado (yeah, none of us had ever heard of it# either and some of us have lived here for 30 years.)
You can see a picture of the four of us at Red's blog.^ A nice man was taking the group pictures for us and I didn't see a lot of point in making him spend his whole afternoon with our cameras. So I'll just crib off Red for the group shot, and this is what I got:
The menu
Red with the menu
Kathryn, camera shy Bag Lady, is off to my left. The Bucksnort was her idea. It was a good one. We're going back.
[SUMMARY: KIP, KIB. Check.]
After that, I had a family birthday party in Aurora. Oh, not my family, per se. Sometimes it's nice to be family with a family not your family.
Laurie, ringleader of the Suburban Sedation Crew and Liam
Matt and Liam
Carrie and Liam
I imagine you're sensing a Liam theme right about now. Not only is he a frightfully cute little chunk of baby goodness, but he spent all day going from adoring adult to adoring adult. It was hard to get a picture *without* Liam.
Smart Firefighter Hockey Player. With ink.
Wipe the drool, change your panties and let's talk knitting.
[SUMMARY: *gurgle*]
Guess what I finished? Yep, it's the FO to conquer all the freakin' FOs.
Stupid Blanket is DONE.
I'm going to miss fondling Stupid Blanket.
Damn. I forgot the wine bottle for scale.
Stupid Blanket:
40 acres of linen stitch, redux
Back of linen stitch
Edge
[SUMMARY: na-na-na-na, na-na-na-na, hey hey hey, goodbye...]
Ah, just in time to start Stupid Blanket II, the Sequel.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Cutest Little Car in the Whole Wide World
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): I'm using the term "night" a little loosely here.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): At the Brown Palace. You remember the Brown Palace, don't you? The nice pedicurists asked if we wanted a cocktail and, of course, we did, so we ordered cosmos and a man in a tuxedo with a snowy white napkin draped over his arm brought them [new best friend!] on a silver tray with a rose in a bud vase in between them. He set the drinks down on the arms of our massaging pedicure chairs, then placed the rose between us and left. His shoes were *really* shiny.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Not The Boy, just another boy, one who called me at 1:00 in the morning Wednesday for a booty call. Unfortunately, I'm not too sharp when you wake me, so I didn't even realise that's what it was until about five minutes after we hung up the phone. Then I was all hot and bothered and couldn't sleep for awhile. He said he'd look for me Friday night at Favourite Bar. He didn't find me. Sometimes there just aren't enough C batteries in the world.
^FOOTNOTE (careted): It should be noted, particularly since Red just called so I wouldn't have to wait all day to envy to the ends of the earth her new DPN case, that my Green Gables is SOOOOO much farther along than hers.
††FOOTNOTE (doublee-crossedd): Did I mention green?
Does anybody know why Blogger does this weird-ass thing with photos that makes the spacing on my posts (probably everybody else's too) all wonky? Is there any way to avoid it?
First, CLCWWW† went to the MiniDoctor last week (as y'all know if you've been paying attention) and got a clean bill of health. And a bath. Look how pretty!
I know it's not really news, but it does give me a chance to post another glamour shot of my babycar.
[SUMMARY: Yeah, yeah, we know you have a Mini Cooper, Marin...]
Friday night was mild mayhem, starting with lunch‡ with Kelley, drinks with Kelley, more drinks with Kelley, pedicure and drink§ with Annie, drinks with Annie and a stupid, stupid round of waiting for a boy at Favourite Bar.¶
Saturday was perhaps a little more sensible, at least on the outset, as the Drunken Knitters (DK Nation represennnnnt!) took off for a field trip to the Bucksnort Saloon in scenic Sphinx Park, Colorado (yeah, none of us had ever heard of it# either and some of us have lived here for 30 years.)
You can see a picture of the four of us at Red's blog.^ A nice man was taking the group pictures for us and I didn't see a lot of point in making him spend his whole afternoon with our cameras. So I'll just crib off Red for the group shot, and this is what I got:
The menu
It was Worldwide Knit in Public Day, which, as Drunken Knitters, we pretty much call "Saturday." Anyway, gorgeous drive,†† OUTSTANDING (yes, I'm shouting. Trust Marin.) burgers, great bar, making bikers with braided beards stare at us.
Red with the menu
Sarah, Genius Knitter with funny part of the menu
Kathryn, camera shy Bag Lady, is off to my left. The Bucksnort was her idea. It was a good one. We're going back.
[SUMMARY: KIP, KIB. Check.]
After that, I had a family birthday party in Aurora. Oh, not my family, per se. Sometimes it's nice to be family with a family not your family.
Mick (you may remember Mick from poker night) and Tommy, his nephew
Laurie, ringleader of the Suburban Sedation Crew and Liam
Matt and Liam
Carrie and Liam
I imagine you're sensing a Liam theme right about now. Not only is he a frightfully cute little chunk of baby goodness, but he spent all day going from adoring adult to adoring adult. It was hard to get a picture *without* Liam.
*ahem*
Unless, of course, it had Tommy.
Now, I've known Tommy all but his whole life, so I'm not allowed to think of him this way, but there's no reason you shouldn't:
Unless, of course, it had Tommy.
Now, I've known Tommy all but his whole life, so I'm not allowed to think of him this way, but there's no reason you shouldn't:
Smart Firefighter Hockey Player. With ink.
Wipe the drool, change your panties and let's talk knitting.
[SUMMARY: *gurgle*]
Guess what I finished? Yep, it's the FO to conquer all the freakin' FOs.
Stupid Blanket is DONE.
Stupid Blanket it stunning. It's lovely and once I washed it, it went all soft and drapey and... *sigh*
I'm going to miss fondling Stupid Blanket.
Damn. I forgot the wine bottle for scale.
Stupid Blanket:
Pattern: linen stitch... 40 acres of linen stitch (body) and Two Leaves from Nicki Epstein's Knitting On the Edge (border)
Needles: Addi Turbo, US9
And here are some close-ups for the knit geeks who like this sort of thing:
40 acres of linen stitch, redux
Back of linen stitch
Edge[SUMMARY: na-na-na-na, na-na-na-na, hey hey hey, goodbye...]
Ah, just in time to start Stupid Blanket II, the Sequel.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Cutest Little Car in the Whole Wide World
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): I'm using the term "night" a little loosely here.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): At the Brown Palace. You remember the Brown Palace, don't you? The nice pedicurists asked if we wanted a cocktail and, of course, we did, so we ordered cosmos and a man in a tuxedo with a snowy white napkin draped over his arm brought them [new best friend!] on a silver tray with a rose in a bud vase in between them. He set the drinks down on the arms of our massaging pedicure chairs, then placed the rose between us and left. His shoes were *really* shiny.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Not The Boy, just another boy, one who called me at 1:00 in the morning Wednesday for a booty call. Unfortunately, I'm not too sharp when you wake me, so I didn't even realise that's what it was until about five minutes after we hung up the phone. Then I was all hot and bothered and couldn't sleep for awhile. He said he'd look for me Friday night at Favourite Bar. He didn't find me. Sometimes there just aren't enough C batteries in the world.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Sphinx Park, I mean. Everybody's heard of The Bucksnort.
^FOOTNOTE (careted): It should be noted, particularly since Red just called so I wouldn't have to wait all day to envy to the ends of the earth her new DPN case, that my Green Gables is SOOOOO much farther along than hers.
††FOOTNOTE (doublee-crossedd): Did I mention green?
Does anybody know why Blogger does this weird-ass thing with photos that makes the spacing on my posts (probably everybody else's too) all wonky? Is there any way to avoid it?
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