{Evening Arwen Etsy shop via Gizmodo}
and here:
{Chop Shop via Gizmodo}
You decide the winner. Geek or chic?
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Geek vs. Chic
Once again, two worlds collide, both here:
{Evening Arwen Etsy shop via Gizmodo}
and here:
{Chop Shop via Gizmodo}
You decide the winner. Geek or chic?
{Evening Arwen Etsy shop via Gizmodo}
and here:
{Chop Shop via Gizmodo}
You decide the winner. Geek or chic?
Glitter of a Different Kind
Not the David Bowie kind... not even the Mariah Carey kind.†
This is the hallowed, soft, silky, gleaming glitter in the eyes of a knitter who has reached knitterly nirvana and delights in the envy of friends and family; thrower, picker and normal person alike.
[SUMMARY: Happy sigh.]
And sequins. It may have something to do with sequins.^
When I wrung all the photos out of the camera Sunday, I was trying to figure out which order to do all this in -- alphabetical? potential impact? number of photos?%
I opted for "order in which it was received."‡
So welcome to day two, the second missing package. This one might have been addressed to Blanche du Bois, a product, a it was, of the kindness of a stranger. Well, not stranger in the "unknown" sense, a friend to be sure, but a stranger to knitting.§
Isn't it remarkable what a fresh eye can bring to the stash?¶
Fabulous Yarns knows packaging is important:
And they do carry fabulous stuff.
[SUMMARY: Duh.]
This is Artyarns Cashmere 5. It's kinda hard to tell, but there's maybe a little more brown in this than the picture lets on.
Ah... there's the brown.
Cashmere, cashmere, soft as angels' wings packed in spring clouds. And I learned something very interesting about this particular cashmere: despite the fact that it looks like laceweight, it's actually wound as five unplied strands to make up a worsted weight.#
Thus:
[SUMMARY: I think we've all learned something here today.]
This one makes me dream at night. And troll Ravelry for hours.†† And guard it jealously when I show it off at Drunken Knitting and never turn my back on it because, y'know, knitters always have tote bags and plenty of pockets to hide a prized skein of yarn.‡‡
Look closer -- you'll see why this particular yarn drove me to new heights of photographic creativity.§§
My neighbours think I'm insane.¶¶
I don't care. I have The Yarn.##
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Sorry, Nathan. I know how you love your Mariah Carey Glitter references.
^FOOTNOTE (careted): Sequins AND beads.
%FOOTNOTE (percented): Best? Favourite? Prettiest? Best pictures? It was like Sophie's Choice until I came up with the very pedestrian "first come, first served."
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): It works for Comcast, it should work for me.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): And maybe a little strange (says the black pot). But mostly "stranger" in the sense of "not a fibre geek."
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): And it just goes to show that good taste crosses genres.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Fabulous Yarns also has very patient customer service people who very patiently explained this to me when I wrote to tell them, "I think your yarn is mis-labeled because clearly this is laceweight."
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): What *am* I going to make with the sequins and beads?
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I'm playing out my own version of The Tell-Tale Heart here, people.
§§FOOTNOTE (twisted): Both yarns (collectively: The Yarn) went on many field trips as I showed them off and photographed them. When I floated the Rogue River for five days, I came away with 900 pictures. When I paraded The Yarn, I ended up with 800 pictures. I have a problem.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (raise your hand if you agree with the neighbours): Insaner. Than they already did. Nobody ever gets close enough for me to explain the blog thing. All they see is me photographing yarn and books on my deck and in the gazebo and in the Carousel Pavilion and they keep their distance.
##FOOTNOTE (the pounding from the floorboards): And the BEATING OF HIS HIDEOUS HEART! That may be funnier in my head than it is here. Y'all are used to that. Go back and look at the pretty yarn if you need to.
This is the hallowed, soft, silky, gleaming glitter in the eyes of a knitter who has reached knitterly nirvana and delights in the envy of friends and family; thrower, picker and normal person alike.
[SUMMARY: Happy sigh.]
And sequins. It may have something to do with sequins.^
When I wrung all the photos out of the camera Sunday, I was trying to figure out which order to do all this in -- alphabetical? potential impact? number of photos?%
I opted for "order in which it was received."‡
So welcome to day two, the second missing package. This one might have been addressed to Blanche du Bois, a product, a it was, of the kindness of a stranger. Well, not stranger in the "unknown" sense, a friend to be sure, but a stranger to knitting.§
Isn't it remarkable what a fresh eye can bring to the stash?¶
Fabulous Yarns knows packaging is important:
And they do carry fabulous stuff.
[SUMMARY: Duh.]
This is Artyarns Cashmere 5. It's kinda hard to tell, but there's maybe a little more brown in this than the picture lets on.
Ah... there's the brown.
Cashmere, cashmere, soft as angels' wings packed in spring clouds. And I learned something very interesting about this particular cashmere: despite the fact that it looks like laceweight, it's actually wound as five unplied strands to make up a worsted weight.#
Thus:
[SUMMARY: I think we've all learned something here today.]
This one makes me dream at night. And troll Ravelry for hours.†† And guard it jealously when I show it off at Drunken Knitting and never turn my back on it because, y'know, knitters always have tote bags and plenty of pockets to hide a prized skein of yarn.‡‡
Look closer -- you'll see why this particular yarn drove me to new heights of photographic creativity.§§
My neighbours think I'm insane.¶¶
I don't care. I have The Yarn.##
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Sorry, Nathan. I know how you love your Mariah Carey Glitter references.
^FOOTNOTE (careted): Sequins AND beads.
%FOOTNOTE (percented): Best? Favourite? Prettiest? Best pictures? It was like Sophie's Choice until I came up with the very pedestrian "first come, first served."
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): It works for Comcast, it should work for me.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): And maybe a little strange (says the black pot). But mostly "stranger" in the sense of "not a fibre geek."
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): And it just goes to show that good taste crosses genres.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Fabulous Yarns also has very patient customer service people who very patiently explained this to me when I wrote to tell them, "I think your yarn is mis-labeled because clearly this is laceweight."
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): What *am* I going to make with the sequins and beads?
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I'm playing out my own version of The Tell-Tale Heart here, people.
§§FOOTNOTE (twisted): Both yarns (collectively: The Yarn) went on many field trips as I showed them off and photographed them. When I floated the Rogue River for five days, I came away with 900 pictures. When I paraded The Yarn, I ended up with 800 pictures. I have a problem.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (raise your hand if you agree with the neighbours): Insaner. Than they already did. Nobody ever gets close enough for me to explain the blog thing. All they see is me photographing yarn and books on my deck and in the gazebo and in the Carousel Pavilion and they keep their distance.
##FOOTNOTE (the pounding from the floorboards): And the BEATING OF HIS HIDEOUS HEART! That may be funnier in my head than it is here. Y'all are used to that. Go back and look at the pretty yarn if you need to.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Lost and Found
Poor eca.
Hers was the first package to go missing in the Going Postal Debacle 2009. So in this week of showing off, stirring envy† and giving credit where credit is due, eca goes first. She's waited quite long enough.‡
[SUMMARY: Don't get me started on the post office.]
When the package was missing, I was particularly bummed about the notebook you see there on the bottom right. It's not stunningly gorgeous or cleverly laid out -- nothing you'd look at and say, "That's one spectacular notebook!" -- but eca got it during her brief and ill-fated stint in Kuwait, so it's an Exotic Notebook from a Distant Land. And that counts big points in my book.
Note how it opens backward and has Arabic writing in the upper right corner of each page.
Exotic.
[SUMMARY: I am a dork of the first water.]
Despite the excitement about the notebook, I think this was my favourite part of the whole package:
I plan to frame it.§
There are several useful little knitty bits, including a tiny knitting book,¶ "hand made" labels and these wonderful stitch markers.
And, of course, when one knitter gifts another, there is often yarn involved.
Fibra Natura Yummy in Purple Haze, with those amazing bumps of deep, rosy, reddy pink and gusts of aubergine. Which goes nicely with the Knitting Socks with Handpainted Yarns book.#
[SUMMARY: Theme packages are a thing of art.]
A big thank you to eca-elf, along with a hearty Na-na-n-na-nyaaa to envious knitters everywhere.
[SUMMARY: Wait... saints shouldn't stick their tongues out like that...]
Tomorrow: Yarn to kill or die for.
*************
Let Me Play the Lion - Les Nez
Marin says: Pleasantly, evocatively woodsy. And quotes one of my top three favourite Shakespeare plays,†† so it has that going for it.
Lion starts with pine and maybe a hint of lime. Then the oilier, sharper pine settles into cedar enhanced by pepper (to steal from Hans) and something sweeter -- maybe cardamom?‡‡ -- then I suddenly recognise the resinous and slightly smoky touch that gives its incense away.
None of the scents is really discreet. They're all complementary and interwoven and the change in scent seems to come more from a change of perception than in the various components drying off and wafting away to reveal their compatriots.
This perfume/cologne§§ has the distinction of being the first I've ever found that doesn't list any notes, so I can't play my normal game of Name That Smell. I can but tell you what I get.
Also? I wore this to the gym Saturday night.¶¶ It keeps close enough to the skin that a spritz in the ol' jogbra makes my workout much happier, but doesn't clobber anybody else.
The perfumer says:
Scents of dusty trails,
Of lightly sweetened ochre,
Of sun-weathered wood,
Of silence swept by mild breezes,
Of skies open like an endless azure cut oozing signs
of the coming storm.
(just for the record, here are Luckyscent's and The Perfumed Court's version -- see? No specific notes at all! Can you tell that as much as I like the perfume, the mystery of the missing notes is *really* turning me on?)
Hans says: Black pepper. I'm getting black pepper. Is it black pepper? Did I get one?
[I explained that I hadn't even looked up the notes yet. Not, as it turns out, that it would do us any good.]
It finishes with black pepper. It starts out piney, I guess. Then I get black pepper. I want black pepper. Let me know how it turns out.
EPILOGUE: Hans actually came into my office ten minutes later to ask if there was black pepper on the list. I believe his response to, "There are no notes listed anywhere," was, "Bastards."
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): I believe if you check the handbook, saints aren't allowed to indulge in envy themselves, but I think there is a loophole that allows them/us to bring out the envy in others. It's like a holy Bitch Test.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Since January 3. Priority Mail, my ass.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Not only is it cute and funny, it could be kinda deep. Isn't that what a wolf would say, were he dressed in sheep's clothing?
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): With highly portable directions on performing a kitchener stitch.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Which I do have. Did have. Actually might not have already had had I gotten the package on time, now that I think about it. Damned post office. But no knitting book ever goes to waste.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): One to read, one to stage, one to play the lead.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): To name a random, sweetish spice I don't really know that well... but it's really good in that Indian rice pudding.
§§FOOTNOTE (that's me rolling my eyes): Because it's nothing if not unisex, and boys don't wear perfume.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (raising the holy banners): If I lost any saint points gloating (though, see †FOOTNOTE, above), I should totally get them back and then some for gymming on fornication night.
Hers was the first package to go missing in the Going Postal Debacle 2009. So in this week of showing off, stirring envy† and giving credit where credit is due, eca goes first. She's waited quite long enough.‡
[SUMMARY: Don't get me started on the post office.]
When the package was missing, I was particularly bummed about the notebook you see there on the bottom right. It's not stunningly gorgeous or cleverly laid out -- nothing you'd look at and say, "That's one spectacular notebook!" -- but eca got it during her brief and ill-fated stint in Kuwait, so it's an Exotic Notebook from a Distant Land. And that counts big points in my book.
Note how it opens backward and has Arabic writing in the upper right corner of each page.
Exotic.
[SUMMARY: I am a dork of the first water.]
Despite the excitement about the notebook, I think this was my favourite part of the whole package:
I plan to frame it.§
There are several useful little knitty bits, including a tiny knitting book,¶ "hand made" labels and these wonderful stitch markers.
And, of course, when one knitter gifts another, there is often yarn involved.
Fibra Natura Yummy in Purple Haze, with those amazing bumps of deep, rosy, reddy pink and gusts of aubergine. Which goes nicely with the Knitting Socks with Handpainted Yarns book.#
[SUMMARY: Theme packages are a thing of art.]
A big thank you to eca-elf, along with a hearty Na-na-n-na-nyaaa to envious knitters everywhere.
[SUMMARY: Wait... saints shouldn't stick their tongues out like that...]
Tomorrow: Yarn to kill or die for.
*************
Let Me Play the Lion - Les Nez
Marin says: Pleasantly, evocatively woodsy. And quotes one of my top three favourite Shakespeare plays,†† so it has that going for it.
Lion starts with pine and maybe a hint of lime. Then the oilier, sharper pine settles into cedar enhanced by pepper (to steal from Hans) and something sweeter -- maybe cardamom?‡‡ -- then I suddenly recognise the resinous and slightly smoky touch that gives its incense away.
None of the scents is really discreet. They're all complementary and interwoven and the change in scent seems to come more from a change of perception than in the various components drying off and wafting away to reveal their compatriots.
This perfume/cologne§§ has the distinction of being the first I've ever found that doesn't list any notes, so I can't play my normal game of Name That Smell. I can but tell you what I get.
Also? I wore this to the gym Saturday night.¶¶ It keeps close enough to the skin that a spritz in the ol' jogbra makes my workout much happier, but doesn't clobber anybody else.
The perfumer says:
Scents of dusty trails,
Of lightly sweetened ochre,
Of sun-weathered wood,
Of silence swept by mild breezes,
Of skies open like an endless azure cut oozing signs
of the coming storm.
(just for the record, here are Luckyscent's and The Perfumed Court's version -- see? No specific notes at all! Can you tell that as much as I like the perfume, the mystery of the missing notes is *really* turning me on?)
Hans says: Black pepper. I'm getting black pepper. Is it black pepper? Did I get one?
[I explained that I hadn't even looked up the notes yet. Not, as it turns out, that it would do us any good.]
It finishes with black pepper. It starts out piney, I guess. Then I get black pepper. I want black pepper. Let me know how it turns out.
EPILOGUE: Hans actually came into my office ten minutes later to ask if there was black pepper on the list. I believe his response to, "There are no notes listed anywhere," was, "Bastards."
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): I believe if you check the handbook, saints aren't allowed to indulge in envy themselves, but I think there is a loophole that allows them/us to bring out the envy in others. It's like a holy Bitch Test.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Since January 3. Priority Mail, my ass.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Not only is it cute and funny, it could be kinda deep. Isn't that what a wolf would say, were he dressed in sheep's clothing?
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): With highly portable directions on performing a kitchener stitch.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Which I do have. Did have. Actually might not have already had had I gotten the package on time, now that I think about it. Damned post office. But no knitting book ever goes to waste.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): One to read, one to stage, one to play the lead.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): To name a random, sweetish spice I don't really know that well... but it's really good in that Indian rice pudding.
§§FOOTNOTE (that's me rolling my eyes): Because it's nothing if not unisex, and boys don't wear perfume.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (raising the holy banners): If I lost any saint points gloating (though, see †FOOTNOTE, above), I should totally get them back and then some for gymming on fornication night.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Spam eMail Subject Line of the Day
Beating meat is essential for health. attics.
I didn't even open it to find out if they want to make me thin or want to make my penis bigger or want me to sell my clutter on eBay for big cash now.
I didn't even open it to find out if they want to make me thin or want to make my penis bigger or want me to sell my clutter on eBay for big cash now.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Speaking of Economic Stimulus...
Dear Corporate Weasel:
Let's say you and I go to Vegas and you gamble all your money away and I have to foot the bill for your dumb ass to maintain a comfortable vacation lifestyle, including an indoor bed and enough food to keep you alive.
You, in turn, promise to stop gambling, tip your waitress and pay me back.
A month later, you still haven't even hinted at actually repaying me and you've purchased a collection of Star Wars action figures on eBay to the tune of $7600. When I ask about my money, touching on the idea that perhaps such a frivolous acquisition might be ill-conceived, given our fnancial arrangement, you don't even bat an eye. You assure me it wasn't my money that bought Jar-Jar Binks and his fleet of Tie-Fighters and you go back to playing with your dolls.
Whose money *was* it then?
Sincerely,
Marin
p.s. -- tell Wells Fargo, hedonistic, clueless, would-be consumer of actual Vegas vacations, we're not laughing at their "we don't need your money to pay for bonuses or compensation" joke.
Let's say you and I go to Vegas and you gamble all your money away and I have to foot the bill for your dumb ass to maintain a comfortable vacation lifestyle, including an indoor bed and enough food to keep you alive.
You, in turn, promise to stop gambling, tip your waitress and pay me back.
A month later, you still haven't even hinted at actually repaying me and you've purchased a collection of Star Wars action figures on eBay to the tune of $7600. When I ask about my money, touching on the idea that perhaps such a frivolous acquisition might be ill-conceived, given our fnancial arrangement, you don't even bat an eye. You assure me it wasn't my money that bought Jar-Jar Binks and his fleet of Tie-Fighters and you go back to playing with your dolls.
Whose money *was* it then?
Sincerely,
Marin
p.s. -- tell Wells Fargo, hedonistic, clueless, would-be consumer of actual Vegas vacations, we're not laughing at their "we don't need your money to pay for bonuses or compensation" joke.
Oh, Baby
You're going to think I've flat lost my mind. Or maybe regained it.
[SUMMARY: Short trip.]
This is just a taste† of the fiberlicious wealth yet to come.
A postal update: Thursday, I received the mad-making‡ note in my mailbox saying, "We put a key in your box a LONG TIME AGO and you apparently aren't bright enough to keep track of such things."§
It was signed by my "regular" mail carrier, Jim, who suggested I call him at the post office if I couldn't find the key.
Here's a funny little bit: last Tuesday, in the throes of deprived desperation, I opened the big, we-can't-fit-this-package-in-your-box@ boxes¶ in my bank of mail boxes in a futile effort to find my missing packages. All were empty. All had the keys.
When I talked to Jim on Thursday, I apprised him of this, and we determined three things:
Long, ridiculous story short,†† I got my packages Friday evening and I have yarn and knitting books and all's right with the world. What's more, I think the USPS is now afraid of me,‡‡ because when I was taking Monday off,§§ the doorbell rang and it was a mailman with a box that could easily have fit in the Big Package Box, but I fancy he just didn't want to risk it.
Yay, me. And good for the Postal Service for learning something.¶¶
[SUMMARY: To forgive is divine.%]
Anyway, the packages... the camera... the pictures... same story, different day... eventually, I'll get the pictures on the camera and subsequently get them back off the camera to beam them to a computer screen near you.
For now, please join me in celebrating yet another finished object^:
I know all y'all knitters have seen it before, but there are a few non-knitters that check in here occasionally who might be impressed by the origami## of the Baby Suprise Jacket.†††
And even if that doesn't get you, aren't the buttons just perfect?
I know Showers of Flowers is often reviled by the local knitting community, but they've never been anything but nice to me and they have a hell of a button selection.
[SUMMARY: Send me your poor, your downtrodden, your maligned yarn shop owners...]
I think‡‡‡ I spent more than $30 on buttons for future, unstarted BSJ's.¶¶¶
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Like a heroin dealer trying to reel in a new customer.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Keeping in mind that the test says I'm very low on wrath.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): OK, it was a little nicer than that, but I haven't quite got all the postal bitch out of my system.
@FOOTNOTE (atted): BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): I'm sure there's a technical term for it, but you know what I mean... the individual mailboxes are fine for flat mail or very small and squishy packages (you can't imagine how creatively I've found sock yarn shipments wedged in there), but they have the larger boxes there just in case.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): And it's a little embarrassing to complain about missing three packages, only to realise you completely forgot about two Internet shopping interludes.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): As my college boyfriend used to say, "Too late."
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): My sense of self-worth is not at ALL inflated; I am, after all, a low-Pride kinda girl.
§§FOOTNOTE (smoke... mirrors...): Don't let that fool you -- Sloth is just not my thing.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (even if you have to club them with it): No matter how small or how short-lived.
%FOOTNOTE (percented): Rumour has it I don't get any saint points for washing my own damned car, so I'm going back to the basics.
^FOOTNOTE (careted): Named the NESSIL BSJ: Not Evil StepSister-In-Law [to be] Baby Surprise Jacket. 'Cause, you know, I have an Evil Stepsister-to-be, but this is the wife of my Fantabulous Stepbrother-to-be. She's actually pretty wonderful herself, but Wonderful Stepsister-in-law was Wssil and that just seemed awkward.
##FOOTNOTE (by the numbers): It's a brooch! It's a pterodactyl!
†††FOOTNOTE (only a saint could use this many crosses without bursting into flames. Or Madonna, during the Lucky Star years when she was a little more Like a Virgin.): I was mostly surprised how much I enjoyed the project. Miles of garter stitch and no lace or cables in sight isn't generally my cup of tea.
‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (have I done the "right track" joke here?): *ahem*
§§§FOOTNOTE (the logic will make your head swim): I do have the yarn for them, though, so it wasn't a complete economic stimulus package.
[SUMMARY: Short trip.]
This is just a taste† of the fiberlicious wealth yet to come.
A postal update: Thursday, I received the mad-making‡ note in my mailbox saying, "We put a key in your box a LONG TIME AGO and you apparently aren't bright enough to keep track of such things."§
It was signed by my "regular" mail carrier, Jim, who suggested I call him at the post office if I couldn't find the key.
Here's a funny little bit: last Tuesday, in the throes of deprived desperation, I opened the big, we-can't-fit-this-package-in-your-box@ boxes¶ in my bank of mail boxes in a futile effort to find my missing packages. All were empty. All had the keys.
When I talked to Jim on Thursday, I apprised him of this, and we determined three things:
- Jim checked the box on Wednesday and was very confused that I couldn't find my packages because they were right there,
- Jim, despite being my "regular" mail carrier, hadn't personally placed any of said packages in the overflow box, so he couldn't really vouch for how long they'd been there, and
- there were FIVE packages.#
Long, ridiculous story short,†† I got my packages Friday evening and I have yarn and knitting books and all's right with the world. What's more, I think the USPS is now afraid of me,‡‡ because when I was taking Monday off,§§ the doorbell rang and it was a mailman with a box that could easily have fit in the Big Package Box, but I fancy he just didn't want to risk it.
Yay, me. And good for the Postal Service for learning something.¶¶
[SUMMARY: To forgive is divine.%]
Anyway, the packages... the camera... the pictures... same story, different day... eventually, I'll get the pictures on the camera and subsequently get them back off the camera to beam them to a computer screen near you.
For now, please join me in celebrating yet another finished object^:
I know all y'all knitters have seen it before, but there are a few non-knitters that check in here occasionally who might be impressed by the origami## of the Baby Suprise Jacket.†††
And even if that doesn't get you, aren't the buttons just perfect?
I know Showers of Flowers is often reviled by the local knitting community, but they've never been anything but nice to me and they have a hell of a button selection.
[SUMMARY: Send me your poor, your downtrodden, your maligned yarn shop owners...]
I think‡‡‡ I spent more than $30 on buttons for future, unstarted BSJ's.¶¶¶
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Like a heroin dealer trying to reel in a new customer.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Keeping in mind that the test says I'm very low on wrath.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): OK, it was a little nicer than that, but I haven't quite got all the postal bitch out of my system.
@FOOTNOTE (atted): BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): I'm sure there's a technical term for it, but you know what I mean... the individual mailboxes are fine for flat mail or very small and squishy packages (you can't imagine how creatively I've found sock yarn shipments wedged in there), but they have the larger boxes there just in case.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): And it's a little embarrassing to complain about missing three packages, only to realise you completely forgot about two Internet shopping interludes.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): As my college boyfriend used to say, "Too late."
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): My sense of self-worth is not at ALL inflated; I am, after all, a low-Pride kinda girl.
§§FOOTNOTE (smoke... mirrors...): Don't let that fool you -- Sloth is just not my thing.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (even if you have to club them with it): No matter how small or how short-lived.
%FOOTNOTE (percented): Rumour has it I don't get any saint points for washing my own damned car, so I'm going back to the basics.
^FOOTNOTE (careted): Named the NESSIL BSJ: Not Evil StepSister-In-Law [to be] Baby Surprise Jacket. 'Cause, you know, I have an Evil Stepsister-to-be, but this is the wife of my Fantabulous Stepbrother-to-be. She's actually pretty wonderful herself, but Wonderful Stepsister-in-law was Wssil and that just seemed awkward.
##FOOTNOTE (by the numbers): It's a brooch! It's a pterodactyl!
†††FOOTNOTE (only a saint could use this many crosses without bursting into flames. Or Madonna, during the Lucky Star years when she was a little more Like a Virgin.): I was mostly surprised how much I enjoyed the project. Miles of garter stitch and no lace or cables in sight isn't generally my cup of tea.
‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (have I done the "right track" joke here?): *ahem*
§§§FOOTNOTE (the logic will make your head swim): I do have the yarn for them, though, so it wasn't a complete economic stimulus package.
If This Comes As a Surprise...
...you haven't been paying attention.
Discover Your Sins - Click Here
| Greed: | Medium | |
| Gluttony: | Medium | |
| Wrath: | Very Low | |
| Sloth: | Low | |
| Envy: | Low | |
| Lust: | High | |
| Pride: | Low |
Discover Your Sins - Click Here
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Stupid Sparkly Vampire
{Jinx via Great White Snark}
Quote from Jinx: "I don't care if his skin glows and twinkles and he smells like kittens and fabric softener, he's still just a glorified syringe."
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.
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.
Friday, February 6, 2009
When Worlds Collide
{from Geekologie -- ya gotta hit the link.}
I think my geek life just ran over my chic life.
A line of three Star Trek-themed colognes. I am not making this up.
The Greatest Show on Earth%
I have a Finished Object.†
Remember how yesterday I said, "My camera is clear"? Well, right after I posted that, I went and mucked it up again with said Finished Object. Basically, the point of this paragraph is that I want credit for the FO, but I don't want to have to wait until I get it out of my camera and *show* it to you.‡
[SUMMARY: This is the problem with American society today.]
I do have a couple of works in progress I can share with you.
In the ongoing three-ring circus that is my knitting whimsy, I have started the Six-at-Once sock project.§
Before I even cast on, I realised the biggest pain in my ass was likely to be skein maintenance,¶ rather than any issues of technique or pattern.#
Kris, the best thing that's happened in my knitting world since circular needles,†† suggested putting each pair of skeins in its own Ziploc bag, cutting the corners out of the bottoms to feed the yarn, then untwisting as needed.‡‡
Elegant. Brilliant. All hail Kris.§§
[SUMMARY: Kris completes me. Well, my half-a-mind, in any case. I come up with the wild-ass schemes. She tells me how to actually do them.]
You may recall that the Four-at-Once project encompassed two pairs of socks of the same yarn with two different sizes.
This time, I am using the same breed of yarn for each sock,¶¶ all three pairs of socks the same size,## but with three different patterns, all from Carol Jean's "Knitting Socks with Handpainted Yarn".
For the blue/green:
For the brown/purple:
For the pink†††/green:
I'll update when I turn the heels and they cease to be dick warmers.‡‡‡
[SUMMARY: Ya-dah-d-da-d-da-ya-da-d-dah.§§§]
For my next trick, I will be needle felting.
The backstory: Brother and eBeth have made presidential candidate ornaments for the family Christmas exchange at least once. This, we feel, qualifies as a tradition.
So when Brother was grumbling about what he was going to do for this year's family gathering, I offered up a Barack Obama needle felting kit I got at Fancy Tiger during the DNC.
Not only did he make it, he deemed it the most he's enjoyed a Christmas project in years.
{photo courtesy of Tani}
So in trying to find a suitable handmade gift for the Glam Rock swap,¶¶¶ I took a page from Brother's book and decided to make a needle felted person from the following materials. Note the glitter:
Yeah, I'm being a little cagey about who it is. Partly because I'm toying with the idea of offering a prize### to the first person who can Name That Rock Star and partly because if it doesn't work out, maybe it'll look enough like someone else that I can pass it off.
[SUMMARY: Hedging my bets.]
Knitblog Plus -- now with 17% more fibre!
%FOOTNOTE (percented): This is not nearly as bragadocious (is that a word?) as it sounds. I'm merely trying to convey the circus-like atmosphere surrounding today's offering of projects.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): You are so excited.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Is this any kind of behaviour for someone who wants to be promoted to saint?
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): I took this picture on Sunday morning (pre Jello shot). Since then, I have finished the toes and done two rounds of pattern on each sock. Yay, me.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): I say, "realised," like I had a brilliant idea. Actually, it's muscle memory from the last time, when keeping four balls of yarn under control was by far the hardest part of the project.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): It's been well established I think there isn't a technique I can't do or a pattern I can't master. I'm going to be found strangled by my own knitting someday.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Kris found me the right yarn when I was paralysed by indecision in the Noro department at Posh. The Chypre Scarf might have been clown barf without her.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I can't help thinking I should've been able to come up with that on my own.
§§FOOTNOTE (maths just make my li'l ol' head spin): Kris can think in three dimensions. Three dimensions gives me nosebleeds.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (that's only two; I scoff at two socks): Shibui Sock in Orchid, Earth and Marine. I had no idea I'd gone so... tree hugger with my colourways.
six socks flowering
awash in an ocean blue
and grounded like mud
##FOOTNOTE (it's all in the numbers, baby): That would be me-sized. We'll see if I finally get a pair of handknit socks (or three) to call my own.
†††FOOTNOTE (put three feet in front of the other three): I feel I'm selling it short just calling it "pink." Maybe !!!PINK!!! is more apt.
‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (barbellous): I wonder how many more times I get to use that before Brother starts demanding royalties.
§§§FOOTNOTE (let the music dance around you): I'm singing that circus song. You know... the one that goes, "Ya-dah-d-da-d-da-ya-da-d-dah."
¶¶¶FOOTNOTE (one half of one big sock project!): I know. I'm a sucker for some of these swaps.
###FOOTNOTE (I got your number): Like your very own handmade rock star.
Remember how yesterday I said, "My camera is clear"? Well, right after I posted that, I went and mucked it up again with said Finished Object. Basically, the point of this paragraph is that I want credit for the FO, but I don't want to have to wait until I get it out of my camera and *show* it to you.‡
[SUMMARY: This is the problem with American society today.]
I do have a couple of works in progress I can share with you.
In the ongoing three-ring circus that is my knitting whimsy, I have started the Six-at-Once sock project.§
Before I even cast on, I realised the biggest pain in my ass was likely to be skein maintenance,¶ rather than any issues of technique or pattern.#
Kris, the best thing that's happened in my knitting world since circular needles,†† suggested putting each pair of skeins in its own Ziploc bag, cutting the corners out of the bottoms to feed the yarn, then untwisting as needed.‡‡
Elegant. Brilliant. All hail Kris.§§
[SUMMARY: Kris completes me. Well, my half-a-mind, in any case. I come up with the wild-ass schemes. She tells me how to actually do them.]
You may recall that the Four-at-Once project encompassed two pairs of socks of the same yarn with two different sizes.
This time, I am using the same breed of yarn for each sock,¶¶ all three pairs of socks the same size,## but with three different patterns, all from Carol Jean's "Knitting Socks with Handpainted Yarn".
For the blue/green:
For the brown/purple:
For the pink†††/green:
I'll update when I turn the heels and they cease to be dick warmers.‡‡‡
[SUMMARY: Ya-dah-d-da-d-da-ya-da-d-dah.§§§]
For my next trick, I will be needle felting.
The backstory: Brother and eBeth have made presidential candidate ornaments for the family Christmas exchange at least once. This, we feel, qualifies as a tradition.
So when Brother was grumbling about what he was going to do for this year's family gathering, I offered up a Barack Obama needle felting kit I got at Fancy Tiger during the DNC.
Not only did he make it, he deemed it the most he's enjoyed a Christmas project in years.
{photo courtesy of Tani}
So in trying to find a suitable handmade gift for the Glam Rock swap,¶¶¶ I took a page from Brother's book and decided to make a needle felted person from the following materials. Note the glitter:
Yeah, I'm being a little cagey about who it is. Partly because I'm toying with the idea of offering a prize### to the first person who can Name That Rock Star and partly because if it doesn't work out, maybe it'll look enough like someone else that I can pass it off.
[SUMMARY: Hedging my bets.]
Knitblog Plus -- now with 17% more fibre!
%FOOTNOTE (percented): This is not nearly as bragadocious (is that a word?) as it sounds. I'm merely trying to convey the circus-like atmosphere surrounding today's offering of projects.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): You are so excited.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Is this any kind of behaviour for someone who wants to be promoted to saint?
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): I took this picture on Sunday morning (pre Jello shot). Since then, I have finished the toes and done two rounds of pattern on each sock. Yay, me.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): I say, "realised," like I had a brilliant idea. Actually, it's muscle memory from the last time, when keeping four balls of yarn under control was by far the hardest part of the project.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): It's been well established I think there isn't a technique I can't do or a pattern I can't master. I'm going to be found strangled by my own knitting someday.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Kris found me the right yarn when I was paralysed by indecision in the Noro department at Posh. The Chypre Scarf might have been clown barf without her.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I can't help thinking I should've been able to come up with that on my own.
§§FOOTNOTE (maths just make my li'l ol' head spin): Kris can think in three dimensions. Three dimensions gives me nosebleeds.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (that's only two; I scoff at two socks): Shibui Sock in Orchid, Earth and Marine. I had no idea I'd gone so... tree hugger with my colourways.
six socks flowering
awash in an ocean blue
and grounded like mud
##FOOTNOTE (it's all in the numbers, baby): That would be me-sized. We'll see if I finally get a pair of handknit socks (or three) to call my own.
†††FOOTNOTE (put three feet in front of the other three): I feel I'm selling it short just calling it "pink." Maybe !!!PINK!!! is more apt.
‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (barbellous): I wonder how many more times I get to use that before Brother starts demanding royalties.
§§§FOOTNOTE (let the music dance around you): I'm singing that circus song. You know... the one that goes, "Ya-dah-d-da-d-da-ya-da-d-dah."
¶¶¶FOOTNOTE (one half of one big sock project!): I know. I'm a sucker for some of these swaps.
###FOOTNOTE (I got your number): Like your very own handmade rock star.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
My Spidey Sense is Tingling
{via Gizmodo}
There are particles in this paint that resonate at the same radio frequency as WiFi signals, effectively blocking anyone on the outside from getting WiFi from your WiFi paint-coated room.%
If y'all had heard the saga of how I tried to set up WiFi in my home† for my month of medical house arrest,‡ you'd laugh at how badly I want this stuff.§
%FOOTNOTE (percented): I can't help the hackle-raising feeling that this stuff could make lead paint look like ice cream. Well, that and maybe living with the magnetic resonance could give me superpowers. I'm BatMarin!
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): In my defense, after about 19 hours on the phone with Mumbai (I'm not even exaggerating here), five hours on the phone with Comcast and three hours on the phone with my client's IT department, it was determined the wireless router I purchased went slightly fuzzy every ten minutes, which happens all the time and wouldn't even faze you if you were doing normal Innernet stuff like porn and Muppet Wiki, but gives the ultra-sensitive VPN that is my lifeline to the company network a serious case of the vapors.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): I spent three weeks trying to get the various systems to play together, then IT sent me two 25-foot cords and a router to connect them, so I ended up with wires everywhere. Cat for Scale thought it was the greatest kitty toy ever invented.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Why? Because I *can*. Just because it took me seven years to get a new cell phone doesn't mean I'm not still a tech whore at heart.
I Know Art When I See It
Fashion, we has it.
With his dark good looks and fashion sense nonpareil,† I think this little guy has a future on the runways of Milan.%
Of course, I risked having to report as a sex offender for the rest of my life, taking pictures of random, pyjama'd chldren on the 16th Street Mall, but I do it all for the blog.‡
[SUMMIT: You're welcome.]
For those of you§ who might have been wondering, the arms mysteriously re-appeared on the top of the 1999 building last week.¶
The thing on the right is for window washing, but we still haven't figured out the arms. Someday, I will march into the building and ask the information desk about them. But not today.
The mystery is still too good today.#
[SUMMARY: Short attention span, easily amused.]
Look! Art!
My parking lot is great for sunset pictures: it faces west†† and there aren't telephone wires acros it, so I can get an angle with no cables.
Today: My camera is clear.
Tomorrow: Knitting!‡‡
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Well, slap a skirt on him and he could be Marc Jacobs, but *mostly* nonpareil, which is, BTW, my new favourite word for the day.
%FOOTNOTE (percented): Anybody get the feeling this whole kid-in-boots bit was just an excuse to post a link to the pretty, pretty boys?
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Not for the nookie. 'Cause that would be wrong.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Sarah, I'm talking to you.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): And look! They finished the condo building! People actually *live* there now.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): And I have lunch with the boss, so he can hand me my 1099 so I don't have to worry about one of my neighbours getting it in their mail.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Which *really* helps.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I hope you were sitting down when you read that.
With his dark good looks and fashion sense nonpareil,† I think this little guy has a future on the runways of Milan.%
Of course, I risked having to report as a sex offender for the rest of my life, taking pictures of random, pyjama'd chldren on the 16th Street Mall, but I do it all for the blog.‡
[SUMMIT: You're welcome.]
For those of you§ who might have been wondering, the arms mysteriously re-appeared on the top of the 1999 building last week.¶
The thing on the right is for window washing, but we still haven't figured out the arms. Someday, I will march into the building and ask the information desk about them. But not today.
The mystery is still too good today.#
[SUMMARY: Short attention span, easily amused.]
Look! Art!
My parking lot is great for sunset pictures: it faces west†† and there aren't telephone wires acros it, so I can get an angle with no cables.
Today: My camera is clear.
Tomorrow: Knitting!‡‡
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Well, slap a skirt on him and he could be Marc Jacobs, but *mostly* nonpareil, which is, BTW, my new favourite word for the day.
%FOOTNOTE (percented): Anybody get the feeling this whole kid-in-boots bit was just an excuse to post a link to the pretty, pretty boys?
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Not for the nookie. 'Cause that would be wrong.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Sarah, I'm talking to you.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): And look! They finished the condo building! People actually *live* there now.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): And I have lunch with the boss, so he can hand me my 1099 so I don't have to worry about one of my neighbours getting it in their mail.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Which *really* helps.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I hope you were sitting down when you read that.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Easy Like Sunday Morning...
...and on into the night.^
Since we all but stopped celebrating Halloween and New Year's Eve,† the Super Bowl is the Grand Poobah of all parties, the laissez le bon temps roulette‡ of the social season.
That's Brother and Eric, laissezing le bon temps roulette
To refresh your memory, we have been doing this at Matt's house since before he was married.% Next year will be our 20th anniversary.§ It's a wonder we all lived through past Super Bowl parties to reach this milestone.¶
[SUMMARY: C'est la guerre... and it has been a hell of a guerre.]
We have traditions.
We have the National Anthem Chug.# We have jello shots.†† We have cigars.‡‡ We have the Lonely Guy Hour.§§ And we have Matt wearing alternative headgear.¶¶
Matt and Shanny - two of my favourite guys in the world
Matt and Bill##
Matt and Connie
[SUMMARY: Fiddler on the Roof got nothin' on us.]
I may never have mentioned it, but as an oil brat,††† we moved like the military when I was a kid. At least every three years, whether we needed it or not. Brother went from first grade through high school with the same kids. I went to seven different elementary schools.‡‡‡
The people you see in the pictures above have been my friends for nearly 30 years.§§§ To me, that's really something.
[SUMMARY: Awwwww...]
And the fact that we're all still alive I think proves miracles happen.¶¶¶
Saint points?###
^FOOTNOTE (careted): I am NOT easy. Anymore.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Damned kids.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): A reminder: Lent is just around the corner!
%FOOTNOTE (percented): Long live the Elks: Beer, Babes and Brotherhood.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): I will be preparing my special Chex Mix with M&Ms, as always, only I will be using personalised M&Ms with pictures and beer references on them.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Cornflakes in beer for Sunday breakfast, 24-hour Shot Clock (one shot every hour until kick-off), 15-minute war (full contact, drunken football at halftime)...
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Wherein all contestants chug cheap beer (hence the empty Hamm's case prominently displayed in the Matt in the Hat gallery). The idea is ostensibly to start when the anthem starts and finish with the Home of the Brave, only by "by the dawn's early light," it's become a race. When we're done, we throw our cans with mighty force against the nearest available wall.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Amy is now in charge of making Jello shots, which are downed with each score. Or when we want. Now that 'most everybody has kids, we've had to educate them in good Jello and bad Jello (conversation with Dr. Doom: "AntiM, where's the Jello?" "You know you can't have any of that stuff, right?" "Yes, but I just want to SEE it."). The Jello shots were so stout this year, I suggested that if any of the kids scraped a knee, we could slap a Jello shot on the wound, which would both seal it and disinfect it.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Now, now... sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.
§§FOOTNOTE (whip that bottle 'round, pass 'er 'round again): Which started as a melodramatic bonding experience amongst the lonely guys (duh). Now the only vestige of the original Lonely Guy Hour is the passing of many, many bottles of many, many colours of Boone's Farm "wine."
¶¶FOOTNOTE (stick men with hats, how appropriate): I feel compelled, since Matt is a school board president, to point out that 1) he did not put the Hamm's hat on his head; someone did that for him, and 2) that is a big ol' cup of water he's drinking in that last photo.
##FOOTNOTE (what IS this number?): Bill's last name is Prince. I put he and Amy in my phone as Prince, which meant I had a weird little interlude months later where I tried to remember why I had Prince's number in my phone -- or why I thought I had Prince's number.
†††FOOTNOTE (three landmen, all in a row): It's not just me. It's congenital. Dad, Brother and I all landman.
‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (a little off track): When I was five, public schools in our city (Midland, Texas) didn't offer kindergarten, so everbody went to private kindergartens. That "seven" doesn't include either the Catholic kindergarten I ended up at (we are not Catholic) nor the kindergarten I got kicked out of.
§§§FOOTNOTE (to everything turn, turn turn): And someone still has the negatives, so I have to be nice.
¶¶¶FOOTNOTE (riot police): Someday I'll tell you about the malatov cocktails and the SWAT team.
###FOOTNOTE (in for a penny, in for three pounds): I graduated from college with 224 credit hours not because I stayed in school for ten years, not because I took classes year-round... no, I graduated with 224 credit hours because I negotiated credit hours for every single thing I did in the four years I was in college -- all my summer jobs, working at the radio station, writing for the newspaper, living behind a laundromat... If anybody's going to weasel out a few extra saint points, it's me.
FOOTNOTES: 609 words
ACTUAL POST: 229 words
Since we all but stopped celebrating Halloween and New Year's Eve,† the Super Bowl is the Grand Poobah of all parties, the laissez le bon temps roulette‡ of the social season.
That's Brother and Eric, laissezing le bon temps roulette
To refresh your memory, we have been doing this at Matt's house since before he was married.% Next year will be our 20th anniversary.§ It's a wonder we all lived through past Super Bowl parties to reach this milestone.¶
[SUMMARY: C'est la guerre... and it has been a hell of a guerre.]
We have traditions.
We have the National Anthem Chug.# We have jello shots.†† We have cigars.‡‡ We have the Lonely Guy Hour.§§ And we have Matt wearing alternative headgear.¶¶
Matt and Shanny - two of my favourite guys in the world
Matt and Bill##
Matt and Connie
[SUMMARY: Fiddler on the Roof got nothin' on us.]
I may never have mentioned it, but as an oil brat,††† we moved like the military when I was a kid. At least every three years, whether we needed it or not. Brother went from first grade through high school with the same kids. I went to seven different elementary schools.‡‡‡
The people you see in the pictures above have been my friends for nearly 30 years.§§§ To me, that's really something.
[SUMMARY: Awwwww...]
And the fact that we're all still alive I think proves miracles happen.¶¶¶
Saint points?###
^FOOTNOTE (careted): I am NOT easy. Anymore.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Damned kids.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): A reminder: Lent is just around the corner!
%FOOTNOTE (percented): Long live the Elks: Beer, Babes and Brotherhood.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): I will be preparing my special Chex Mix with M&Ms, as always, only I will be using personalised M&Ms with pictures and beer references on them.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Cornflakes in beer for Sunday breakfast, 24-hour Shot Clock (one shot every hour until kick-off), 15-minute war (full contact, drunken football at halftime)...
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Wherein all contestants chug cheap beer (hence the empty Hamm's case prominently displayed in the Matt in the Hat gallery). The idea is ostensibly to start when the anthem starts and finish with the Home of the Brave, only by "by the dawn's early light," it's become a race. When we're done, we throw our cans with mighty force against the nearest available wall.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Amy is now in charge of making Jello shots, which are downed with each score. Or when we want. Now that 'most everybody has kids, we've had to educate them in good Jello and bad Jello (conversation with Dr. Doom: "AntiM, where's the Jello?" "You know you can't have any of that stuff, right?" "Yes, but I just want to SEE it."). The Jello shots were so stout this year, I suggested that if any of the kids scraped a knee, we could slap a Jello shot on the wound, which would both seal it and disinfect it.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Now, now... sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.
§§FOOTNOTE (whip that bottle 'round, pass 'er 'round again): Which started as a melodramatic bonding experience amongst the lonely guys (duh). Now the only vestige of the original Lonely Guy Hour is the passing of many, many bottles of many, many colours of Boone's Farm "wine."
¶¶FOOTNOTE (stick men with hats, how appropriate): I feel compelled, since Matt is a school board president, to point out that 1) he did not put the Hamm's hat on his head; someone did that for him, and 2) that is a big ol' cup of water he's drinking in that last photo.
##FOOTNOTE (what IS this number?): Bill's last name is Prince. I put he and Amy in my phone as Prince, which meant I had a weird little interlude months later where I tried to remember why I had Prince's number in my phone -- or why I thought I had Prince's number.
†††FOOTNOTE (three landmen, all in a row): It's not just me. It's congenital. Dad, Brother and I all landman.
‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (a little off track): When I was five, public schools in our city (Midland, Texas) didn't offer kindergarten, so everbody went to private kindergartens. That "seven" doesn't include either the Catholic kindergarten I ended up at (we are not Catholic) nor the kindergarten I got kicked out of.
§§§FOOTNOTE (to everything turn, turn turn): And someone still has the negatives, so I have to be nice.
¶¶¶FOOTNOTE (riot police): Someday I'll tell you about the malatov cocktails and the SWAT team.
###FOOTNOTE (in for a penny, in for three pounds): I graduated from college with 224 credit hours not because I stayed in school for ten years, not because I took classes year-round... no, I graduated with 224 credit hours because I negotiated credit hours for every single thing I did in the four years I was in college -- all my summer jobs, working at the radio station, writing for the newspaper, living behind a laundromat... If anybody's going to weasel out a few extra saint points, it's me.
FOOTNOTES: 609 words
ACTUAL POST: 229 words
Bent Art
Check it out, all y'all knitters.
You won't be disappointed. I'm not guaranteeing anything for non-knitters, but you'll probably get a kick out of it too.
You won't be disappointed. I'm not guaranteeing anything for non-knitters, but you'll probably get a kick out of it too.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Sticks 'n' Stitches 'n' Nephews 'n' Bitches
It was a busy weekend, what with angsting over missing mail and all.†
[SUMMARY: Got your bitches right here.]
Mostly, you're getting pictures. I shot my blabber wad‡ on bitching about the USPS. And, as always, 1 picture = 1000 words.§
Saturday, I played the role of sole volunteer to Mya's Queen of this year's Sticks 'n' Stitches.¶
Sylvia# and her two boys came...
...Brother and Dr. Doom each brought a friend††...
...and people knit.‡‡
[SUMMARY: Still a knitblog!]
Oh, yeah. There was hockey too...
...and quite a bit of it,§§ but the Avs didn't win.¶¶
Hey! You know what else is in the greater downtown area?
How long has it been since we had a good, old-fashioned crane slurp?##
Tomorrow: What I did on Super Bowl Sunday (abridged)†††
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): If your yarn was missing, you'd angst too.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): *giggle* Blabber wad. It's fun to say and it sounds funny. Blabber wad.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Over 6000 words today alone. That's dedication to the cause.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Next year, I will be in charge.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Knitting related.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I didn't get pictures of their friends.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): And I took blurry photos of them.
§§FOOTNOTE (double toe loop!): Seven goals between the two teams.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (club footed hockey players): Damned Ducks have always had our number. And by "our," I mean, "the Avalanche's"
##FOOTNOTE (like girder frames soaring high): Too long, far too long.
†††FOOTNOTE (holy...): For the sake of the children and several political careers.
[SUMMARY: Got your bitches right here.]
Mostly, you're getting pictures. I shot my blabber wad‡ on bitching about the USPS. And, as always, 1 picture = 1000 words.§
Saturday, I played the role of sole volunteer to Mya's Queen of this year's Sticks 'n' Stitches.¶
Sylvia# and her two boys came...
...Brother and Dr. Doom each brought a friend††...
...and people knit.‡‡
[SUMMARY: Still a knitblog!]
Oh, yeah. There was hockey too...
...and quite a bit of it,§§ but the Avs didn't win.¶¶
Hey! You know what else is in the greater downtown area?
How long has it been since we had a good, old-fashioned crane slurp?##
Tomorrow: What I did on Super Bowl Sunday (abridged)†††
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): If your yarn was missing, you'd angst too.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): *giggle* Blabber wad. It's fun to say and it sounds funny. Blabber wad.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Over 6000 words today alone. That's dedication to the cause.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Next year, I will be in charge.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Knitting related.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I didn't get pictures of their friends.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): And I took blurry photos of them.
§§FOOTNOTE (double toe loop!): Seven goals between the two teams.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (club footed hockey players): Damned Ducks have always had our number. And by "our," I mean, "the Avalanche's"
##FOOTNOTE (like girder frames soaring high): Too long, far too long.
†††FOOTNOTE (holy...): For the sake of the children and several political careers.
Take a Letter, Maria
Dear Postal-Going Public,
You have heard me complain about my postal service.†
I didn't think it possible, but it's actually in decline.‡
Picture this: my neighbourhood is nine square blocks en toto, including shopping and open space. It is ACROSS THE STREET from the post office. It is served by five or seven banks of mailboxes.§
The postmaster at the post office across the street tells me our little corner of the postal world is a Training and Limited Abilities Route.¶ Brother's mailman, Dave,# tells him that when someone is done with his route, he just grabs a tub of Highland Gardens Village mail and delivers it.
I've seen four mailmen delivering to four different boxes at the same time. We're just not getting consistency.
[SUMMARY: Therein lies the rub.]
And the rub turns to the smoking electric sander when sights like this become common:
I don't have a picture around the corner behind me from there, but there's another USPS minivan also double parked.††
And look closely:
Two mailmen. Working the same bank of mailboxes.
It used to be invitations would go missing with uncanny regularity. And bills.‡‡ And the amount of mail I got for random and varied other people was amazing.§§
[SUMMARY: We are about to go from bad to worse.]
Now my packages are going missing and I want pounds of flesh.
Eca's package, which is going on four weeks missing.
Nathan's package, which shows as delivered on Friday.
Knit Picks order, which shows arrived at my post office last Wednesday.
You may wonder why I'm bitching here.¶¶
[SUMMARY: My point, and I do have one...]
Well, for one, the nice people who mail me things that aren't bills should be aware. I feel like I need to explain and apologise for my post office like I would if my unruly child was running amok in a bank.##
For another, when Paddy P complained about Comcast in his blog, he got a near-immediate reply from a random Comcast worker and all his problems were solved. I'm guessing Comcast is more in tune with its constituency than the post office, so I don't have high hopes, but... it couldn't *hurt* to put the vibe out.†††
[SUMMARY: Hope springs eternal.]
Hey, I clap for Tinkerbell. This couldn't be any dumber than clapping for Tinkerbell.
*clapclapclap* I do! I do believe in the postal service! *clap*
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): The post office has heard me complain about my postal service. My family has heard me complain about my postal service. Sylvia has heard me complain about my postal service. The checkout clerk at the grocery store has heard me complain about my postal service.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Read: a steep and rapidly increasing downward spiral that makes the White Cliffs of Dover look like a pleasant Sunday stroll, steep-wise.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Nobody in the 'hood has a mailbox on their actual house.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Which makes sense. I could deliver the fucking mail with *my* limited abilities, it's that compact and easy.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): We all live in the same larger neighbourhood. And Brother goes to the gym that is six steps from my front door, so he occasionally runs into Dave, delivering mail to me.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Most of our neighbourhood was not built with sufficient clearance for cars to park on both sides of the street and still allow for two-way traffic, much less double-parked mail minivans.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I'm waiting for the day somebody sues the post office because their botched delivery caused a nasty case of stolen identity.
§§FOOTNOTE (fuming mad): I once got a piece of mail addressed to a Jiffy Lube, from Jiffy Lube headquarters, on an entirely different street than mine, with an entirely different street number than mine, in a different zip code than mine.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (I have TWO talking sticks): But you're probably just used to it by now.
##FOOTNOTE (let me pound this point home): And by "my," I mean, "my," since I know not everybody shares my feeling that we are responsible for our children, pets, cars... I'm not going to start.
†††FOOTNOTE (three ticks to stop and think about that): Unless, y'know, it's like when the waiter spits in your eggs because you complained.
You have heard me complain about my postal service.†
I didn't think it possible, but it's actually in decline.‡
Picture this: my neighbourhood is nine square blocks en toto, including shopping and open space. It is ACROSS THE STREET from the post office. It is served by five or seven banks of mailboxes.§
The postmaster at the post office across the street tells me our little corner of the postal world is a Training and Limited Abilities Route.¶ Brother's mailman, Dave,# tells him that when someone is done with his route, he just grabs a tub of Highland Gardens Village mail and delivers it.
I've seen four mailmen delivering to four different boxes at the same time. We're just not getting consistency.
[SUMMARY: Therein lies the rub.]
And the rub turns to the smoking electric sander when sights like this become common:
I don't have a picture around the corner behind me from there, but there's another USPS minivan also double parked.††
And look closely:
Two mailmen. Working the same bank of mailboxes.
It used to be invitations would go missing with uncanny regularity. And bills.‡‡ And the amount of mail I got for random and varied other people was amazing.§§
[SUMMARY: We are about to go from bad to worse.]
Now my packages are going missing and I want pounds of flesh.
Eca's package, which is going on four weeks missing.
Nathan's package, which shows as delivered on Friday.
Knit Picks order, which shows arrived at my post office last Wednesday.
You may wonder why I'm bitching here.¶¶
[SUMMARY: My point, and I do have one...]
Well, for one, the nice people who mail me things that aren't bills should be aware. I feel like I need to explain and apologise for my post office like I would if my unruly child was running amok in a bank.##
For another, when Paddy P complained about Comcast in his blog, he got a near-immediate reply from a random Comcast worker and all his problems were solved. I'm guessing Comcast is more in tune with its constituency than the post office, so I don't have high hopes, but... it couldn't *hurt* to put the vibe out.†††
[SUMMARY: Hope springs eternal.]
Hey, I clap for Tinkerbell. This couldn't be any dumber than clapping for Tinkerbell.
*clapclapclap* I do! I do believe in the postal service! *clap*
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): The post office has heard me complain about my postal service. My family has heard me complain about my postal service. Sylvia has heard me complain about my postal service. The checkout clerk at the grocery store has heard me complain about my postal service.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Read: a steep and rapidly increasing downward spiral that makes the White Cliffs of Dover look like a pleasant Sunday stroll, steep-wise.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Nobody in the 'hood has a mailbox on their actual house.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Which makes sense. I could deliver the fucking mail with *my* limited abilities, it's that compact and easy.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): We all live in the same larger neighbourhood. And Brother goes to the gym that is six steps from my front door, so he occasionally runs into Dave, delivering mail to me.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Most of our neighbourhood was not built with sufficient clearance for cars to park on both sides of the street and still allow for two-way traffic, much less double-parked mail minivans.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I'm waiting for the day somebody sues the post office because their botched delivery caused a nasty case of stolen identity.
§§FOOTNOTE (fuming mad): I once got a piece of mail addressed to a Jiffy Lube, from Jiffy Lube headquarters, on an entirely different street than mine, with an entirely different street number than mine, in a different zip code than mine.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (I have TWO talking sticks): But you're probably just used to it by now.
##FOOTNOTE (let me pound this point home): And by "my," I mean, "my," since I know not everybody shares my feeling that we are responsible for our children, pets, cars... I'm not going to start.
†††FOOTNOTE (three ticks to stop and think about that): Unless, y'know, it's like when the waiter spits in your eggs because you complained.
Monday, February 2, 2009
From One Saint to Another
Thanks, Brigid, for giving me something to post on this otherwise postless day.
*************
Sisters of Mercy
by Leonard Cohen
Oh the sisters of mercy, they are not departed or gone.
They were waiting for me when I thought that I just can't go on.
And they brought me their comfort and later they brought me this song.
Oh I hope you run into them, you who've been travelling so long.
Yes you who must leave everything that you cannot control.
It begins with your family, but soon it comes around to your soul.
Well I've been where you're hanging, I think I can see how you're pinned:
When you're not feeling holy, your loneliness says that you've sinned.
Well they lay down beside me, I made my confession to them.
They touched both my eyes and I touched the dew on their hem.
If your life is a leaf that the seasons tear off and condemn
they will bind you with love that is graceful and green as a stem.
When I left they were sleeping, I hope you run into them soon.
Don't turn on the lights, you can read their address by the moon.
And you won't make me jealous if I hear that they sweetened your night:
We weren't lovers like that and besides it would still be all right,
We weren't lovers like that and besides it would still be all right.
*************
Sisters of Mercy
by Leonard Cohen
Oh the sisters of mercy, they are not departed or gone.
They were waiting for me when I thought that I just can't go on.
And they brought me their comfort and later they brought me this song.
Oh I hope you run into them, you who've been travelling so long.
Yes you who must leave everything that you cannot control.
It begins with your family, but soon it comes around to your soul.
Well I've been where you're hanging, I think I can see how you're pinned:
When you're not feeling holy, your loneliness says that you've sinned.
Well they lay down beside me, I made my confession to them.
They touched both my eyes and I touched the dew on their hem.
If your life is a leaf that the seasons tear off and condemn
they will bind you with love that is graceful and green as a stem.
When I left they were sleeping, I hope you run into them soon.
Don't turn on the lights, you can read their address by the moon.
And you won't make me jealous if I hear that they sweetened your night:
We weren't lovers like that and besides it would still be all right,
We weren't lovers like that and besides it would still be all right.
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