Motor-tober

I just love it when I get email from Mini Cooper.

Go. Look.

For those of you who aren't already VSL junkies,† allow me to direct you to today's offering:

10Steps.sg, a graphic designer's website that specifically features "50 extraordinary and attractive billboards" and generally has a bunch of cool advertising and graphic design.‡

One of the billboards is a Denver Water advertisement,§ so I feel a sense of civic pride¶:




There are also two Mini Cooper billboards. This is my lucky day.#

I'm a dork like that.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): And I think you all should be.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): I also like the "44 advertising posters with clever ideas."

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): I have long thought this was a particularly good ad campaign, though I loathe being told what to do with my water.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Any time Denver isn't in the news for housing terrorists of one kind or another, I am elated.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): What with all the validation.

Drive-By

Just so's you know my head hasn't exploded yet, here I am.

One of these days I'm going to load the last month's worth of pictures in one giant *blurgh* of photojournalism,† but for now, let me tell you a little story and share a link.

Sunday was the Broncos home opener.‡ I don't have a parking pass, but the boss's FIL has vintage season tickets and VIP parking. The boss took his son, but they live right on the very spiffy light rail line to the stadium, so they decided to go the public trasportation route.

Thus, I got the VIP parking pass.

We got to the lot I parked near the entrance, which makes for a longer walk, but a much quicker getaway when the game is over. This was really good thinking, only I forgot one key element: I pulled into the space head-in.

When we got back to the car after the game, I realised my error. Not only was I going to have to rely on the kindness of strangers to back all the way into the traffic lane, I was going to have to back to my right with an empty space on my right and a giant truck on my left... exactly the wrong configuration for my needs.

AND... it turns out that when you are flanked by two giant trucks -- even if one of them is a full parking space removed from you -- and your head is sunk deep in truck territory, it' really hard to see oncoming traffic anyway.

After a moment, I realised I drive a Mini Cooper.§

I backed all the way to the end of the parking space, turned the wheel hard right and proceeded to execute a perfect seven-point turn.¶ When I had completed this feat, Kelley poked me and pointed at the small crowd that had gathered to watch the magic of the Cutest Little Car in the Whole Wide World.

Amazement, applause and quite possibly the best object lesson in why a tiny little car is one of the best accessories a sports fan can have.

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

An email exchange:

From: eBeth
To: Marin
Subject: Now here's a textile for you!#

http://www.wired.com/wiredscience/2009/09/spider-silk/

From: Marin
To: eBeth
Subject: Re: Now here's a textile for you!

Holy cats. It's like my best dream spun out of my worst nightmare.

Plus... bulletproof shawl!

From: eBeth
To: Marin
Subject: Now here's a textile for you!

Surely there's a pithy maxim buried in there somewhere. If life gives you spiders, make a shawl....

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

I don't know about all y'all, but this makes way more sense than that lemon thing.††


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Y'know... a pod of whales, an oodle of cupcakes, a *blurgh* of photojournalism.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): You may have noticed.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Two points for effort, Captain Obvious!

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): If you think there's no such thing as a perfect seven-point turn, well... you really need to see me in action.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): *WARNING!* Giant spider alert! Sarah should proceed with caution!

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I don't believe life has ever handed me lemons, but it's handed me innumerable spiders. Lemons would, in fact, be a nice change, and would require no sugar-coating (heheheh) to be a big step up.

Sylvia's Last Stand

Sylvia's House of Fuzzy Crack is no more. The last truck took its last load this morning.

Posh will forever be the place I found knitters. People to knit with. Social knitting. Competitive knitting. Supportive knitting. Showing off knitting.




Women who can always be counted on to ooh and aah over Nathan's package.†

[SUMMARY: It's fibrelicious!‡]

Posh will forever be the place I learned about mail order chickens§ from Marybeth.




Without Posh, I might still be knitting endless scarves every football season¶... and endless baby blankets in the spaces in between.

I might never have met Bonnie# or Kate†† or Leslie...




...or (gods forbid) Genius Sarah. Who would hit me on the arm and say, "I have a question," all the way through baseball playoffs and untangle my yarn for me when I got too eager and couldn't wait until I got home to winder and swift and muddled it all up at Drunken Knitting?




Or Meg. Meg of the Mini Cooper and the motorcycle and the intense, funny intelligence. Or Heather, whose baby shower continued my knack for walking in on big, happy Posh parties.




Or Leslie, self-professed skincare whore and funny, erudite knitting writer.




Or Natalie, who makes me spit wine out my nose laughing.




Or Liza-Spelled-Lisa who accidentally got married, then accidentally adopted a second child.




Or Rosie who loves perfume, or Ligia who is an Capital-E-Educator and lives around the corner from me.




[SUMMARY: These are the people in my neighbourhood.‡‡]

It's the end of a soft, many-plied, colourful, beautiful era.

XOXOXOXO, Sylvia. It'll be sad knowing I can't just drop by on a random Friday afternoon.

See you around.

[SUMMARY: *sniffle*]

Don't ask how much I spent at the moving sale.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Oh, look what I did. Now he feels violated and I feel twelve. heheheheheh

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): And I'm not just talking about Nathan's package.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Thus continues the Summer of the Chickens. By the way, Marybeth says the chickens would, indeed, look fetching in sweater vests, but if we want to knit them we have to do it fast -- and I'm guessing not get too attached to the results -- because the chicks have already doubled in size.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): College boyfriends, high school friends, roommates... nobody was safe from the annual football scarf, twelve feet long, double-thick and ten inches wide. heheheheh. Sorry... had a moment.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Who is new, but noteworthy and has, in fact, cut her hair since this photo (just in case you see her around town).

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Who talks more than I do and gets captioned in the footnotes for it.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Y'know... my *spiritual* neighbourhood. The family you choose. The next-door neighbours of my soul. People who certainly deserve better photography than I've given them here.

Your Gypsy Rover

Tomorrow begins Lake 2009.

I'll be hitting the road with my trusty iPod and the Cutest Little Car in the Whole Wide World to keep me company.

I was gratified to see that my little car is in the top five Most Fun to Drive† While Still Being Fuel-Efficient‡ list from Car and Driver.§

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

Guilt-Free Fun
by Jared Holstein





2009 Mini Cooper S

26 mpg city/34 mpg highway¶

It’s a real shame the Mini Cooper ownership experience has been ruined by the population of tattooed art-school dropouts who wear skinny jeans and ironic eyeglasses and have claimed it as their own. Lured into dealerships by espresso, wi-fi, and conformity, they leave in numbers driving a fine machine that in turbocharged S form# is just about the most ace combination of fun and fuel efficient that trust funds can buy.

Fear not, enthusiast: Roll down your windows to prove that your upper lip bears no thin mustache and you aren’t listening to electro, and pour yourself into the nearest set of mountains. A fantastic chassis, a six-speed transmission, and 192 pound-feet of torque will help you dispatch stacked hairpins with confidence; it’s this car’s poise that helped it best such machines as the Mazda Miata and Volkswagen GTI on our Lightning Lap. You can also be confident you won’t need to stop for gas on the way home, that you’ll be able to fit in a parking spot once you get there, and that cops will be too busy busting hipster-helmed Minis for coke possession to notice your imprudent velocity.

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

More later, but for now, join me in basking in the reflected glory.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Duh.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): They don't know the half of it. See ¶, below.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): As reported by Comcast.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Mine actually gets 44 mpg on the highway, possibly because...

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): ...mine is not turbocharged, but supercharged. In practical terms, this means the new Mini S can take hills faster, but mine will blow it off a light. And, apparently, I get an extra 130 miles per tank when I take a road trip.

The Key to My Heart.. My Car...

...and one useless post box.†

TTHFCIF

Surely‡ you didn't think I was kidding when I said I was going to talk about my keys today.

These are them§:




Over on the left are the electronic swipey keys to the office, along with the key that opens the stairwell doors if I decide to take the stairs instead of the elevator.¶

Then there's the carabiner that holds it all together.

That brass key on the right is the post box key.

Of course, there's the magical key that affords me access to the Cutest Little Car in the Whole Wide World.#




And Vlad.†† Vlad is a Kamibashi string doll that protects me from harm when I'm out past my bedtime.‡‡ And the real reason behind this blogpost.%




[SUMMARY: Blame it on the vampire.]

A month or so ago, I was making small talk with The Peach after my weekly dinner with Dad, and she noticed Vlad and asked about him.§§

I explained his function, and that Brother gave him to me a couple of years ago in my Christmas stocking. I also mentioned that I was kinda hoping that he'd protect me from work, as represented by the electronic swipey keys.

"Just a minute," said The Peach, disappearing up the stairs.

She came back in a moment with a small box containing what looked like stitch markers.¶¶

"Pick one. They're evil eyes I got in Turkey. They're for warding off evil. I think it would go very nicely on your keychain."




[SUMMARY: If one superstition is good, two superstitions is twice as nice.]

So I did. And I'm waiting for the day the evil eye goes after the vampire, who goes after the swipey keys and the whole thing combusts in my purse in a cloud of string and plastic.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Let us not speak of it.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): And don't call me Shirley.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Grammatically untenable, I know, but I like the way it sounds.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): But does not allow me access to the office, as tested earlier this week.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Vlad didn't used to look like a homeless vampire dancing a grapevine, perhaps to someplace where he could wash the grime off his face.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Vlad does NOT sparkle.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): I've wanted to tell the story of how my keychains will explode my purse some day ever since this incident. Once again, I am *that* dork.

§§FOOTNOTE (the talk turned odd): Vlad is actually quite a conversation piece. I'm starting to wonder if he's become remarkably odd looking and I just don't see it because I'm used to his decrepitude.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (those could be stitch markers, if you squint): All roads lead to knitting. Some take the scenic route.

Breaking Update!

So I was at the Tattered Cover website† to see if they had that new drinking and knitting book‡ Kim pointed me to and I noticed that Cutest Little Car in the Whole Wide World is still prominently§ featured in the tiny slideshow in their banner.

Let's hope the fame doesn't go to my head.¶


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): A B&N boycott is easier when you are minutes from one of the best independent booksellers in the country.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Pints & Purls

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): I may be the only one who thinks of it as prominent.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Where it would wander in the desert for forty years.

My Rose Royce Saturday

Productive. I was productive, I tell you.

Here's the license plate before I washed the car†:




Perhaps this gives you an inkling as to why I finally bathed the poor thing. As Tallest, Hairiest Nephew has been known to say, "AntiM, she does *not* want to be a jeep."

I completely failed to get after pictures,‡ but did take pictures from inside the car wash.§






Jackson Pollack got nothing on me.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): I actually took this picture to prove my tags were at one time up-to-date, as I had to pay a larger-than-necessary fine when the 2008 sticker came off the car. I was very careful to wash, rinse and dry the place where the 2009 sticker would go and it still came about halfway off. So I Gorilla Glued it.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): I worry one doesn't get one's full complement of saint points if one doesn't have proof of one's good works.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): You're welcome.

Pig Licking in Space

TTHFCIF



Ah, Friday.

Friday with its promise of exotic weekend fun and its propensity for blogquizzes, memes and pig-licking.

[SUMMARY: You can dress a pig up. It's still a pig.]

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

I *am* knitting.

Only, I'm knitting the ubiquitous Noro stripey scarf and I would be too embarrassed to post a WIP photo.† I may even be too embarrassed to post it when it's finished. It's just been so... done.‡

There's also the Purple Prose scarf, which hasn't seen a frogging since the dropped-stitch mishap of two weeks ago and is well over half done. As you know, pictures of unblocked lace tend to look like yarn barf or crumpled tissue,% so I'm foregoing that pleasure as well.§

But this is still a knitblog and I am still knitting. You'll just have to take my word for it.

[SUMMARY: I don't ask much.]

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

I went to the BroncosRaiders game a couple of weeks ago. It is the first sporting event I've left before the buzzer since¶ I missed watching a Buffs comeback in 1990# because the Air Force precision drill team on whose ticket I went wanted to beat traffic.††

It was that abyssmal.

I took all the festive photos, just like last year. In the end, this may be the only picture of note:




It looks a little like a Koolhaas licensed by the NFL.

[SUMMARY: Go Broncos! Take your stupid cheerleaders with you!]

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

It's hard to believe, but I think CBS Outdoors has found an even weirder billboard than Chas and Terry.




We've had many lively discussions on this one.

Not just for the concept of, "OK, so I was driving down the road, trying to get to the grocery store before rush hour, when I saw this billboard and it hit me: I can DONATE my boat!"

Not just for the ill-advised colour selection.‡‡

The best conversation was probably the one where we§§ realised that boat has lips and eyes.




I don't know that it's as creepy as Chas and Terry, but I believe it may be more disconcerting.

[SUMMARY: Somebody has too much time on her hands.]

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

Hans left yesterday for Decorah, Iowa, to take his girfriend to visit her brother, who is attending college there.

This is notable¶¶ for two reasons:

1. Hans swore, after getting much grief from all quarters for his globe-trotting ways and impeccable timing in leaving for Thailand at precisely the time when we needed two warm bodies battling the bugs of divestiture, that he wasn't going to be gone for the rest of the year. This declaration was quickly followed with, "Well, except for Iowa in November. But that doesn't count." So we refer to this as the Trip that Never Was. And I think that's funny.
2. I am related on my mother's side to half of Decorah. Maybe more. One of my favourite first-cousins-once-removed,## Dennis,††† curates‡‡‡ the Porter House Museum there.

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

On a cheerful note, I was behind this kindred spirit in traffic the other day:




It's good to have peeps.

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

I'm not even going to post the perfume bit I'd thought to do today. It's one I smelled while the aforementioned Hans was in the aforementioned Thailand and I thought to myself, "Screw him. I smelled it without him, he left me here to go see Dennis, I'm posting without him."

But then I saw it was a lovely warm, woody, unisex floral that I had billed as "balloon and hot electronics," so I think I'll wait until I can smell again and give it a second chance.

*

*

*

Yeah, next Friday I'll probably just do a meme or a some quiz on which Twilight character§§§ I am.

Or I'll take more cough medicine and *really* make it a party.¶¶¶


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Curse you, Yarn Harlot!

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): And you know I'm always looking to be undone.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): Another Yarn Harlot observation. I'm not sure whether to curse her for taking all the good ones or bless her for making it easy for me to cop out on lace photos.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): You're welcome.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Or 1991. Maybe 1992. In any case, it is one of the two most annoying tales in my repertoire, the other one being how I will never, ever rip the wrapping off a present again since the time I gave into my mother's frustration and ripped the dust jacket of a lovely collector's edition of Alice in Wonderland. There's nothing snottier than a person who is irritating with cause.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): A game now famous, on all the Sports Illustrated lists... a game I get to say, "I was there," when people bring it up, but have to say, "No, I didn't see the ending. It sounded exciting from the parking lot, though."

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Still bitter.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I know purple and yellow are technically contrasting colours and good for things like billboards but... yucch.

§§FOOTNOTE (like shivers up my spine): And by "we," I mean, "I." My minion Mike had just asked, "Why does the boat have lips," and I jumped in to say, "I think that's a lipstick print 'cause somebody kissed the boat 'cause it's a boat angel." Hans said, "No... it has teeth. And there are eyes up on the bridge, too."

I need glasses.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (two notes): My definition of notable, that is.

##FOOTNOTE (tic-tac-toeing the line): I'm not being flip. When your mom has about 200 first cousins and they all have upwards of ten kids, the whole "cousins" issue begins to require some precision to have any meaning at all.

†††FOOTNOTE (you can't be cross with Dennis): Dennis is gay. Given the statistics, he can't possibly be the only gay member of the Ohlert family, but he's the only one who will cop to it. Hey, when a large chunk of your large family is midwestern farming German Catholic, a gay man who runs a museum is like a bird of paradise among daisies.

‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (follow my train of thought): Or not. He may just sit on the board. Or decorate. Curate is a prettier word.

§§§FOOTNOTE (there is a season, turn, turn, turn): I'm still waiting for someone to tell me why so many witty, intelligent women are so in love with that piece of literary dross.

¶¶¶FOOTNOTE (pull the lever, cast your vote): I bet y'all are hoping I don't come up with anything better so you can find out which Twilight character I am.

Well, Now, I'll Just Have a Little Lick Over Here

I can't believe I forgot to use these pigs on Halloween. I was so giddy over the Hersheys with Omens cartoon I flat forgot.

So, Happy Post-Halloween Thanksgivingish Continuum.

[SUMMARY: Fall.]

And I find I have a bunch of little things and nothing worth its own blogpost. That's what licking the pig is all about, my friends.

[SUMMARY: To recap...]

First, there was a little nudge in the comments to spill the beans on my cereal purchase. I may have been remiss in where it came from. Their contact address is in New Hampshire, the "about us" mentions sublets in NYC and the cereal came packed with wadded Boston Globes, so... east coast. Possibly New York.

Anyway, it's a company called [me] & goji† that I found through Gizmodo or Geekologie. The cereal is spectacular. I'm a cereal fan in general, but this cereal takes the cake.‡

On their website, you§ travel through a list of ingredients -- different flakes, grains, seeds, nuts, berries -- and add what you want to your cereal bowl. As each item is added, the nutritional information label on the right reflects your choices.

Then you name your cereal.¶ Then you buy your cereal. Then your cereal is hand-packed by a REALLY cute boy.# It's almost like having cabana boys. In New York. Or maybe New Hampshire.

It is, of course, a little expensive for cereal. Like lovingly hand-knit socks are a little more expensive than socks-by-the-dozen from Old Navy.††

Also? You can buy carbon offsets to ameliorate the guilt of having cereal shipped across the country.

Also? Goldenberries are really, really sour. You should get something sweet to go with them if you get goldenberries.‡‡

[SUMMARY: I have impulse control problems in so many arenas.]

Lace knitting may be the death of me. Despite my chest-pounding over being able to count on beyond four, I'm not sure that's accurate. Or maybe just not consistent.

The good news is Malabrigo Lace, despite its fuzziness, holds up pretty well through multiple froggings.

[SUMMARY: Says the voice of experience.]

Last week, a new billboard went up. I called Hans, excitedly,% and he immediately decided we should bet lunch on what the billboard would be.

"How specific?"

"Category. Specific category. I'm going to say... ski resort."

"Shit. That's a good one. I bet you win. Um... health care!"




I win.

Of course, I have to look at the surprisingly creepy guys§§ on the billboard until they take it down. I'm guessing since everybody finds it so creepy, this billboard is the one that will stick through the next six months.

[SUMMARY: A message of hope.]

A chocolate eyeball escaped from the Halloween candy some time within the last couple of weeks and got covered by a knitting pattern then ground into the carpet. I'm blaming it on the cat.

If anyone knows how to get chocolate out of shag carpet, let me know.

[SUMMARY: The joys of homeownership. And cat ownership. And chocolate eyeballs.]

Today I wore my jacket when we went to lunch. Friday I bought a snow brush/scraper for the Cutest Little Car in the Whole Wide World. Seemingly unrelated events.

Seemingly.

I believe they are both important steps on my campaign to become St. Marin of the Mountains, patron saint of fuzzy crack, fuzzy cats and odd sexual positions.¶¶

See, I know if I had not sweated my way through lunch today unnecessarily, if I had not purchased a $12 snow thingie, it would be cold and snowing for the rest of the winter. As it stands, I have assured my fellow citizens a pleasant Monday's lunchtime and a minimum of snow this season.

If that's not martyrdom, I don't know what is.

Unfortunately, I haven't heard a peep from the Vatican yet. How many miracles does one woman have to perform before the frickin' Vatican will take notice?

[SUMMARY: Not a theology major.]

I'm pretty sure I had more to share, but I don't know what it might have been. Hell, I gave you Terry and Chas. What more could you want from me?

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

Champaca - Ormonde Jayne

Marin says: The first blast makes me want to say "lime," only it's not quite that bright -- more like one of those tough, bitter grasses that you'd nibble on when you were a kid and too young to worry about how bitter it was.

It dries down within minutes to a watery, woody, slightly citrusy smell. There's something dry and sharp in it, like pepper, but very little scent of any kind left.

I feel like I'm missing the whole lovely roll-out because it's too small to smell.

This may be the first Ormonde Jayne I'm not delighted with -- the scent itself is fine, but it's so fleeting it's best on the cuffs rather than the wrist.##

Ormonde Jayne says: (A tiny pale orange flower from India) Related to the magnolia and deemed sacred in the Indus Valley, Champaca flower absolute is a heavenly, creamy floral scent - both elegant and intimate.$ Blended with neroli and bamboo and underscored with fragrant rice and green tea notes, this is a distinguished perfume of rare beauty.

Top: Neroli,$ pink pepper$ and bamboo
Heart: Champaca and freesia absolutes, basmati notes
Base: Myrrh, green tea notes and musk

Hans says: Sour smelling, like... I almost got it... right at the end, like an herb. Just at the end.

[like lime, but not limey enough to be lime, I said]

Yeah! Not super-citrusy, more earthy. Earthy sour citrusy. Write it down.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Their grammar, not mine.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Heh.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): And by "you," I really mean "you," 'cause I'm guessing a solid majority of those who go check out the website won't be able to resist building their own cereal, even if they never actually order. It's like some low-tech, high-fibre video game.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Like having kids or getting a puppy, naming rights are part of the charm. My cereals are "The Bible Tells Me So" because it had a lot of biblical grains in it and "Hopin' Sesame" because there are sesame seeds in it and I'm the biggest dork in the world.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Adam packed mine. He hand-signed both containers in blue Sharpie, which I think is a charming touch.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): If I speak your language, it's so much easier for you to understand.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): The Bible Tells Me So contains artisanal cereal, spelt flakes, goldenberry and chia (runner up name: Chia, My Pet). Hopin' Sesame contains: flaxed and flaked, rye flakes, goji, bananas, blueberries and sesame seeds (runner up name: Goji, bo-boji, banana-fana, fo-bluberry, me-my-rye flake, sesame!). I know you wanted to ask.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): Excited because it was a political billboard, referencing some ballot issue we were sure we'd have to look at for months after the vote was in and counted. Not excited because they were changing the billboard. They do that about every other week.

§§FOOTNOTE (how are we going to spin this?): We have nicknamed them Terry and Chas. Chas's full name is Charles "Meatball" Thoroughbrace III. Only his mother calls him Trip and nobody's really called him Meatball anymore since Winky Bushmeyer died in '97. And if you think they're not creepy, click for big.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (heads up, Vatican City): Still working on the particulars. I figure I don't need to have it all nailed down until I make my acceptance speech. There's an awards ceremony, right?

##FOOTNOTE (reasons too numerous to number): A concept I ddn't figure out for the longest time. When perfumes evaporate too quickly, they'd apparently be better off sprayed on the clothing, which will absorb and hold them, then on the skin where they eventually wear off. At least, that's what I think it means. That's what I'm talking about, in any case.

$FOOTNOTE (on the money!): I'm counting "intimate" as "nobody can smell it now unless they're intimate with me."

Summertime and the Livin's Breezy

In the adrenaline rush that comes from believing I have superpowers, I finished frogging† the Father's Day‡ Arrrgyles at the bar last night.§




[SUMMARY: Knitting content two days running. This may be a record.]

On the way home,¶ I stopped off at the newish Red Trolley ice cream shoppe# to sample their product.††

I feel kinda bad for them because they opened around the same time as Little Man -- media darling and neighbourhood hot spot -- but they're just not getting the same buzz.

I like Red Trolley better.‡‡

The adorable dreadlocked blonde girl who waited on me was nice as could be, the ice cream was outstanding and the shoppe is just darned cute -- marble and wood, kinda like an old-fashioned soda fountain.

[SUMMARY: Packaging counts.]

Besides, they have these cups that fit perfectly in the modified-for-American-sodas§§ cup holder in CLCWWW.¶¶




And you get a cookie.

And they're closer than Little Man.

Besides, I always cheer for the underdog.##

*************
Neil Morris Signature Collection - Gotham parfum

Marin says: *sigh* Again, anything oil-based has that heavy smell of smoke, incense, amber, myrrh... whatever it is, it doesn't make me all that happy. The smoky damp cloud on my wrist started out, once again, reminiscent of toilet paper or Ti-D-Bowl to my nose.

I'll admit it's mellowed around the edges over the hours and deepened and flowered. It smells like a California redwood forest near the ocean -- cedar and salt-spray, and I do like that part. If I hold my nose a couple of inches from my skin, I get a hint of rose.

Oils are still just too warm and thick for my liking. Is there some way to cut this stuff to suit my aesthetic?

The Perfumed Court says: One of Neil Morris Vault Scents%, Gotham is based on a memory of an October night in NYC - unusually warm and overcast and foggy, with a sense of mystery and things hidden in the dark.

Gotham has notes of Black Pepper, Yuzu, Rose,$ Narcissus,^ Amber, Pearl Musk, Myrtlewood, Tonka absolute, Labdanum, Russian Leather, Redwood,$ and Ambergris.

Neil Morris says: My inspiration for Gotham was a stroll along a street in Manhattan on what could only be described as a summer evening except for the fact that it was late October! It was unusually warm and overcast evening. It was a bit foggy and the atmosphere had a sense of mystery and of things hidden in the night. All in all a magical evening.

Gotham opens with Top Notes of Black Pepper and Yuzu that merge with Heart Notes of Rose and Narcissus. The Base Notes include Ambergris, Myrtlewood, Russian Leather, Amber and Labdanum.@

Hans says: Psyche! Hans says nothing! Hans is out golfing the Mountain Course at the Broadmoor and can't come to my wrist right now. We'll have to try back later.
*************


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Well, some sort of mentally challenged frog with a limp or something. It goes "rip-it, rip... bam. knot! *shuffleyank* *snap!* rip-it, rip-it, rrrrrrrrrrrreeekk! fuck! KNOT!..."

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): *cough2007cough*

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Beer helped.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Well, only a couple of miles out of the way. In the opposite direction.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Charming neighbourhood ice cream stores that make their own ice cream every day in-house should always be honoured with a double-p-e spelling.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Y'know... in the name of fairness and letting the people know and stuff.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): In my vast experience of having tasted two flavours at each shoppe. But both the Red Trolley flavours were outstanding and one of the Little Man flavours tasted like potpourri. For the record: Red Trolley -- banana bread ice cream and bing cherry hazlenut chip ice cream. Little Man -- firecracker blueberry cinnamon (aka - potpourri) sorbet and ginger gelato.

§§FOOTNOTE (this'll turn your head): No lie. The big complaint out of the American market was that the Mini couldn't accommodate a Big Gulp. Ah, well. The gluttony of the masses allows for ice cream transportation for me. Thank you, gluttonous masses.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (aw, it looks like two little taste spoons): Where you can see I'm keeping the AC at 60 degrees, my tank is nearly full, I'm listening to a song called, "I'm a Vampire" and the Red Trolley is at an altitude of 5320'. Also, I haven't dusted in awhile.

##FOOTNOTE (how many I intend to gain taste-testing ice cream in the 'hood): Unless, y'know, it's the Raiders. Or my team happens to be the overdog. But all other things being equal, I'm behind the underdog all the way. Did I mention training camp started last week? And the dark days of summer are almost over?




%FOOTNOTE (percented): Actually, it's not. I went to the Neil Morris site to get the Neil Morris take on this Neil Morris creation and it turns out Neil Morris doesn't agree with the Perfumed Court. I'm going with Neil Morris on this one. After all, it is a Neil Morris Signature Collection scent.

$FOOTNOTE (moneyed): Ha! Got one!

^FOOTNOTE (careted): I have no idea what Narcissus smells like.

@FOOTNOTE (atted): I know you've read this all before, but I try to give the perfumer's rhetoric when I can find it.

I Lied

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

A ticket.

You may wonder what is funny about a ticket.

[SUMMARY: Master of the obvious.]

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

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

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

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

And he didn't.

And he got a ticket.

Yesterday morning.

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

At 3:59 a.m.§


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

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

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

Images of Marin

I will now share with you a pictorial journey of my weekend.

You are so excited. You nearly peed on your feet.

First, I don't want you to feel you're falling behind on the goings-on out my window at work.

This overall view shows you Friday's weather, My Crane, the progress on the high-rise and the lack of arms on top of the 1999 building.




[SUMMARY: I am nothing if not succinct.†]

I know some of you‡ were following the saga of the arms on the 1999 avidly and I wanted to be sure you got proper closure.

Also? The billboard debacle of two weeks ago?

Thursday's billboard:




Friday's billboard:




You're welcome.

Friday brought some interesting§ scenes.¶

Rooftop conference:




And this poor little old guy who apparently is unclear on the concept of the new freedom afforded him by his Rascal scoot-along:




I took this through the sun roof on the Cutest Little Car in the Whole Wide World while stopped in mad traffic Friday afternoon.#




And this out the window of the Cutest Little Car in the Whole Wide World:




For those not in the know, La Bohéme is a strip club and Bridget the Midget% is apparently famous.††

[SUMMARY: No education is ever wasted. Some may be suspect.]

Sunday, I went to see my grandmother. She tells my father I'm the only one of her grandchildren who comes and visits her.‡‡

I want to be sure to get that out there in support of my ongoing bid for sainthood.

[SUMMARY: I know, I know, but I'm convinced enough points will at least get me a t-shirt.]

After Grandma, I decided to stop for a grilled chicken^ sandwich at Arby's and saw this:






I believe that is what they call and attractive nuisance.

OK, maybe not in the spirit of "attractive nuisance," but how can they expect me not to be tempted to turn the entire Arby's off with such clearly-labeled, accessible triggers? That look like mad-scientist switches? I can turn the entire Arby's off while pretending to bring my monster to life.

One more sainthood point for doing nothing but taking the pictures and contemplating the possibilities.

[SUMMARY: Join me in my game of cosmic Skee-Ball.]

This is chronologically out of whack, but I wanted to save the best for last.

Beth, with whom I used to work in Boulder, came from Seattle for a visit. She stayed with Tani and the three of us§§ went shopping in Boulder on Saturday.

This is outside Paper Doll:




The rules?




Do you see what I see?

[SUMMARY: Everybody's doing it...]

Yep, I'm pretty sure you can lick the pig!


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): You can stop laughing now.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Sarah.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): It's all a matter of perspective. Hans and I were riveted.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Beyond the usual antics of the parking lot monitor. See, he used to drive up in a small, silver pick-up truck, run the paid spots off the computer, walk around making note of who was parked where and mete out parking lot justice to those scoff-laws who didn't pay. Then he'd usually get into his small, silver pick-up truck and drive away. If the weather was really nice, he'd take off walking.

We think he may have been demoted, 'cause now he drives in in a little green VW something-or-other and runs the computer and checks the spots kinda half-assedly, then climbs into his car and reads the paper for a couple of hours. We've seen people park and just walk away without paying while he was sitting there in his car and they never get tickets.

The small, silver pick-up truck still comes around, but it's driven by someone else and all he does is pull in and get the cash out of the box while the small, silver truck is still running.

Hans and I are wildly interested in what's going on with parking lot politics. Some day we will snap and go knock on the window of the little green VW something-or-other and ask a series of grueling questions until our curiosity is sated.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): I was going to see Brass, Bagpipes & Co. with my Dad and his not-girlfriend (and her daughter and granddaughter). I left a little early so I could stop by the yarn store (*ahem*) "on the way," but traffic was such a claustrophobic hell I barely made it in time to his house and had to skip yarn altogether. Oh, the humanity.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): I'd love to give you a link, but I'm pretty sure I shouldn't be looking up "Bridget the Midget" here at work and I'm also pretty sure you shouldn't be clicking over to Bridget the Midget there at your work. I'm saving us all a lot of grief and humiliation.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): My latter-day porn star knowledge is limited to Jenna Jameson and Katie Morgan. I don't know that I've ever actually seen a picture of Jenna Jameson, but I love Katie Morgan's HBO gig. Bridget the Midget is all new to me, but Hans says he got a friend a Bridget the Midget video once.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I win!

^FOOTNOTE (careted): Which sounded righteous and possibly yummy and tasted boiled.

§§FOOTNOTE (curly like a pig's tail): Well, and 10-month old Benjamin, who didn't so much shop as play with his feet.

Things I Learned in 2007

• It's not "rock seals and planes," it's "rocks, hills and plains."
• Page views go up every time Tommy makes an appearance.
• Never knit a baby blanket in linen stitch.
• Expired license plates are serious business.
• Estrogen is my friend. Sometimes friends abandon.
• Judy's Magic Cast On is... magic.
• Smile for the camera.
• Life is too short for bad friends, bad yarn or bad wine. Bad boys are another issue entirely.
• There is a fine-line difference between rap and hip hop, but I have to be in a room with you to explain it to you because there are hand gestures.
• You can never have too many T-pins.
• There is a Law of Conservation of Patience in my realm: patience can neither be created nor destroyed, only transferred. Thus, all the patience I may have exhibited in teaching Brother and Father to knit was eventually counter-balanced by an irrational blow-up at a customer service agent.
• No matter how much I pare back the nephews' gift list, I always end up getting them too much.
• Champagne can be a harsh mistress.
• Nothing bad ever happens to clean people (OK, I've known this one for years, thanks to my friend who works for DPD, but it bears repeating).
• Cars are cuter when they're clean.
• No matter how much you pay for kitty toys, they always play with the boxes. Figuratively speaking.

Alas, Poor Yorick...

...I pinned him to the sofa, Horatio.†

I figured thus: I am knitting socks for Lorree and Yorick for Jeff. Yorick must be felted, blocked and dried prior to next Wednesday. The socks can be knit in the six-plus hours I will be on planes and in airports and such. The socks can be finished on the bus from Newark to Grand Central Station. The socks, if needs be, can be finished sitting at Riverside Park across the street from Jeff's building.

So Yorick wins, for the time being.%

Praise be, Yorick is a pretty quick knit, though I have made two skulls now and neither one of them came out to the right number of stitches, or even to the same number of stitches. For some reason, multiple yarn-overs can be difficult to knit in and out of while trying to count properly.




Don't Panic.‡ The one on the left is not all wonky due to my inability to count,§ I just didn't pin that one.

I'm having some palpitations over the felting process, not for any typical reason, but because I used Ella Rae Classic for this and the pattern calls for something alpaca or angora -- y'all know... bunny yarn -- but I thought bunny yarn might not be masculine enough, so I switched to this.

Then I poked at one of Bag Lady Kathryn's felted Ella Rae bags and I'm worried about it getting too dense for a scarf. I'm envisioning Jeff laying it across the back of his neck, then bending and twisting and capturing it quickly under the front of his jacket before it springs loose again.¶

I'll just have to keep a very close eye on the felting process so it gets felted enough for me to trim out the eye- and nose-holes, but not so felted it becomes a neck pillow.

I guess if worse comes to worst,# I can tell him it's one of those draft dodger things to put across the bottom of a door or window to keep cold air out.

I also turned the heel on the second Sparkle Sock yesterday just for variety. No dick warmers in my house.††

[SUMMARY: Knitting!]

Speaking of Bag Lady Kathryn,‡‡ when we went to Hotcakes (a recommended experience) Sunday morning, we came out to this:




Kathryn said, "Do you have your camera?"

Why, yes. Yes, I do.

[SUMMARY: Mini Coopers!]

Can we backtrack for a minute?^

I didn't take my camera Saturday night because I figured they wouldn't allow cameras in the concert. Turns out they didn't check anything very carefully and I could have smuggled it in just fine. As it stands, I have these great pictures on my camera phone,§§ but I don't know if I can do anything other than send them in text messages. If I can, I sure as hell don't know *how* to do it.

[SUMMARY: Technology!]

I forgot to tell you a little tidbit: when we ran up to Coors Field Saturday after Genesis, Shanny gave me his media pass to go inside and poke around. Mostly, I took pictures of the media pass on my camera phone, but I did enjoy waving that thing at all the Coors Field official-types who wanted to get in my way.

"Media!" I said,¶¶ sticking it in their faces with all the grace and cool of a three-year-old meeting Mickey Mouse at Disneyland for the first time.

[SUMMARY: Sport!]

And this last bit is just a pretty picture of a historical building across the street from my office. I thought the sky particulalry pretty. I'm sharing.




[SUMMARY: Art!]

Happy Tuesday, ev'ry-bahdy!


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): That's not even funny. I just wanted the chance to show off my crazy-big Shakespearean knowledge. The day I can toss out the primrose path speech here with jaded nonchalance... that'll be a proud, proud day. And y'all know I'm going to be looking for excuses now.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): I bet you're *stunned* at the unprecedented level of logic I am able to reach. It's all the sleep yesterday, I tell you.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): I miss Douglas Adams.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Both in and out of triple yarn-overs and to four.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): In my mental movie, he forgets about the rogue scarf and goes to pull his wallet out of his jacket to pay for a newpaper at a newsstand. He yanks the zipper down a couple of inches and starts to reach his hand into his inner pocket. The scarf pops out, the recoil snapping Jeff's wrist and zinging a woman (buying gum next to him) in the face.

THEN... the scarf's eyes glow red but only the guy in the newsstand sees it. He goes home in his '57 Chevy and dismembers his wife, then climbs into their chest freezer with a 45 of "My Boyfriend's Back."

The scarf whispers to Jeff's cat at night, causing the usually-docile feline to eat the neighbour's dog and several small children.

One night, the scarf inches into the kitchen, humming to itself before it slithers into the coffee maker.

Jeff and Lorree have friends over for brunch the next day and everybody drinks coffee filtered through the demon scarf and they all go mad, giving in to their basest impulses and acting out 1950s dead teenager songs.

Later that day, they all die on separate railroad tracks before the folksy sheriff with the dark past can capture them.

The scarf is last seen disappearing into a cargo crate off Battery Park.

Voilá. Stephen King story.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): "Worse comes to worst" or "worst comes to worse"? Each makes a sort of elegant sense... of course, I may just be high on my recent think-tank triumph in figuring out which project to knit first for the imminent trip.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I could get all dirty-sassy-funny here if it weren't so pathetically true on so many levels.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Nice segueway.

^FOOTNOTE (careted): Just playing at polite. My blog, my backtrack.

§§FOOTNOTE (double-D curvy): Well, they seem really great when I blow them up from postage stamp-size in my head.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (para-para-para-paragraph): OK, OK... squealed.

Knitting! Mini Coopers! Technology! Sport! Art! Sometimes Sex!

Man, this blog has *everything*!

...and Darn It, People Like Me!

I started out having an off day.

First I forgot to rinse the conditioner out of my hair. Got all the way out of the shower, had dried most of the body off and... *wham!* Realisation! Once I'd accomplished that monumental task, I forgot to put petroleum products back in my hair. I'm all fuzzy.†

I used a LOT of four-letter words driving in this morning. I mean more than usual. I don't know that people were actually driving any worse,‡ but I sure was feeling every bump in the road.

Everything about my job right now makes me feel incompetent.§

I have had no sex of the flesh-and-blood variety for 27-days-but-who's-counting.¶

Oh, yeah, this day definitely started out on the wrong side of my emotional bed.

I see no reason to let it continue this way.

I am eating the best apple in the world (it's a Honeycrisp. If you haven't tried Honeycrisp apples, you really should).

Muppet fur is a delight to knit and goes very quickly.

Nephews.

I have all the knitting books, and I know how to use them.

The sun is shining and the air is clean and fresh from all the rain.

Christian Bale.

There is a crane right down the street and I can see it from my window.

Skulls are in. I can buy skulls at Kohl's, they're so ubiquitous.

Dark chocolate.

I remembered to bring my lunch today.

The new TiVi season is underway and Ted got a butterfly tattoo on "How I Met Your Mother" last night.

Cashmere.

There's a Mini Cooper down the street with my name on it.

I have food, shelter, yarn, a job, friends, family, Colorado, freedom of speech, football, my sense of humour, a good mattress, the right to vote, a SPECTACULAR apple, my cat, this lamp...

Aw, fuck it.

I'm going back to Ravelry.




Ravelry.




Ooooooh... I have Ravelry!




Hearts and flowers, la la la

Happy Tuesday, ev'ry-bahdy!


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Could be worse; could be raining.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Why, oh why would anyone go five miles an hour UNDER the speed limit with nobody in front of them and clear roads? If they're younger than 70? Driving a late model Honda Civic? There's no excuse.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): I know the files are bad. THEY know the files are bad. But every now and then, the bad conspires to make me think it's my own lack of mad landman skillz.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): I know, I know... but I was starting to get used to it and now I'm cranky.

TOMORROW: Summaries!

My Crane: a Story in Photos

I think we've learned a valuable lesson from all this: my ability to count is only surpassed by my mad cinematic skillz.†

At least we're out of the football thing for a few days.‡ Now we can talk about me.

[SUMMARY: I don't know about y'all, but I'm all about some me.]

As you may recall, I moved to a new office last week. Several of my co-workers have commented on my stunning view of seven or eight major pay parking lots here in downtown Denver, but the real feature is this:



Yes, I can see a crane from my window.§

No, that's not a thumbprint. It was foggy and rainy and damp on Monday.^

Of course, there was Wednesday.

This is what it looks like at 5-fucking-30 in the ay-em¶:



7:30 am...



6:30 pm%...



[SUMMARY: The whinging never ends.]

And Mini Bonding in the parking lot.#



[SUMMARY: Neither does the dork.]

When I was in on Saturday (and don't think I won't whine about that if I feel the need), the red Cooper was there too. I wonder if the red Cooper lives nearby. I wonder if the red Cooper's driver would like to have lunch some time.

[SUMMARY: The red Cooper is my new best friend!]

On Thursday and Friday I had the RMMLF Mineral Title Examination seminar. A waste of time, resources, money, fuel,†† energy, space... honestly, the materials are good, but the live presentations left something to be desired. Most of them.

See, they kept every speaker to twenty minutes and they tried to keep most of it really, really basic. And they talked about LR2000‡‡ constantly.

Let me break it down for you, knitta style:

Say you shelled out $600 for a two-day knitting symposium. All your LYS owners and a couple of notaries from across the country were slated to talk about your craft. They give you a big ol' book full of tips and tricks and patterns.

Then they say, "If you've been knitting for less than a year, raise your hand." You look around. About four people have their hands in the air.

Then they say, "And how many of you have been knitting for more than ten years?" You look around and more than half the room have their hands in the air.

You may think at this point that they're going to say, "Well, then, we won't be teaching you to cast on, we'll assume y'all know the knit and purl and we'll get right into some theory and design and such. If you noobs have questions, track down one of the many OKE's§§ out there and they'll be happy to help you."

But no, they explain that you can see how mixed a group it is, and they're going to try to address issues that will be in the interest and purview of each level of expertise, but because that's so varied, everybody's going to get screwed.¶¶

[SUMMARY: Really. That bad.]

Then they tell you that, in the interest of keeping on schedule, they're only going to let each person (even the Yarn Harlot) speak for only twenty minutes.

The first seven people tell you knittinghelp.com^^ is a really excellent resource and you should familiarise yourself with it. They tell you it may take some practise to get the hang of it, but it has lots of good information. Each one tells you this for twenty minutes.

[SUMMARY: I'm not kidding. That bad.]

Thank the katzen in himmel you have your knitting.##

I can't tell you how it happened,††† but the running jokes over the two-day lawfest were "meth lab" and "LR2000."

I was working on Brother's socks. After a few rounds, he was drafting out my yarn for me. I said, "Thanks!"

He said, "I don't have anything else to do."

[SUMMARY: Seriously. That bad.]

Hell week is over, technically. I'm still helling, but at least I'm not helling at 5-fucking-30 in the ay-em.

[SUMMARY: There is no statute of limitations for whining about being at the office at 5-fucking-30 in the ay-em.]

And tomorrow, there will be yarn pictures.

Y'know... to make it all better.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Why does everything look so much worse on the Innernets? On my monitor, my pictures are crisp and clear and my video doesn't look like it's raining on my camera.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): I reserve the right to go fantasy dork on you. It's my blog and I'll dork what I want to.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): It may not be great for my professional career that every time someone says, with that little edge of sarcasm, "Oh, you got a window. Nice view," I get all squirmy and go, "Oh, but look at the crane! I have a thing for cranes."

"Really?"

"Oh, yeah."

*longpause*

"Well, good for you then. We'll see you later."

^FOOTNOTE (careted): Last Monday. OK, yesterday too. It's good -- I like rain and fog anyway, but if your Monday is drippy, at least you don't feel like you've lost your weekend to the rain gods.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Yes, I'm still whining about that. I figure I've got another two or three weeks of dropping the "5-fucking-30" thing into casual conversation.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): All the same day. I'm not done whining yet.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): The same bemused construction worker has walked by every. single. time. I've taken a picture of the red Mini. He's started giving me a wide berth and won't make eye contact anymore. Would it make things better or worse if I explain the Mini Bonding thing?

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): And, y'all know, I'm in the petroleum business. I'm usually a great advocate of keeping-Marin-busy-and-in-sock-yarn-through-irresponsible-use-of-hydrocarbons.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Land Records 2000, the Bureau of Land Managment's dbase system wherein we find much of what we may need on federal lands and minerals and other groovy information on surface authority, patented lands, mining claims, USGS resurveys... you know. Stuff you use every day.

§§FOOTNOTE (is it curvy in here, or is it just me?): When we (Brother and I) were down on the Ice (Antarctica), freshman workers were Fingies (FIN-jees), or FNGI, which stood for "fucking new guy on the Ice." Second-years on up were OAE's, or Old Antarctic Explorers. So OKE: Old Knitting Explorer. Yeah, that may have been too far to go to explain an inside joke that you will never have to know again. Of course, you realise I will now have to drop OKE regularly enough to make the last 100 words worthwhile. My blog, my rules.

Do I seem abnormally surly to you today? Must be the sunny weather and nine-hour workdays.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (seriously paragraphed): I may be paraphrasing.

^^FOOTNOTE (carets are good for your eyes): This is our LR2000 analog, for those of you scoring at home.

##FOOTNOTE (totally pounded): This applies equally to the fictitious knitting symposium and the actual Cirque du Mineral Law.

†††FOOTNOTE (it's looking like Calvary Hill around these parts): Not because it's a secret, because I don't really remember. There was also moss involved. I *really* don't know how that happened. Old. Feeble.