Sunday, February 27, 2005


I Don't Do Nothin'

This has been a busy weekend.

I got called in to work on Saturday night for the graveyard shift from midnight to 8am. This is good, as we need the cash, however this is also the weekend on which a) I had to take care of my daughter pretty much single-handedly due to my husband having a mid-term on Monday and needing to study for it and b) there was a big event for the charity thingie I do, down at a local craft store.

I usually put in about sixteen hours each weekend when this event is running, however, due to all of the bits and pieces going on in my life right now, I jammed out on the Saturday event, choosing instead to keep in touch by phone that day, and to just attend on the Sunday.

My mother wasn't sure what day I was going, and showed up on the Saturday to see if I was there (the parental units usually drop in to say hi during this event. They often know some of the people involved and have been very helpful in carting stuff around while my car has been in sick bay.) Anyhow, she showed up on the Saturday and was told by one of the ladies there that I don't go to these events, I "just pick up the work we do at the end of the event."

I'm not sure who it was who ran the entire event last time when the store neglected to schedule an employee to take care of it. Guess I'm delusional and just thought I spent about fifteen hours making coffee and buying doughnuts out of my own pocket.

For those of you who have been playing along at home, you may well be aware that the stress levels around here have often hit the "Danger Will Robinson" mark on the K-Tel Stress-O-Matic of late, and that I would be more than delighted to relinquish several of the responsibilities in my life. (I've even withdrawn from my college studies for the rest of this term to take some of the pressure off).

Seeing I "don't do nothin'", I'm rather hoping that this lady will be kind enough to forward her name and address to me so I can take all of the paperwork and the half-a-truck full of blankets, squares, material and yarn over to HER house for storage. Then she can do the nothin' that I've been doing for years, and I can get back to knitting these damned dishcloths. She can even have my cell phone.

I suspect, however, that this will not come to pass, and this is just another item of misinformation and false hope, deliberately circulated by the Office of W.T. Fuck.

I'm not actually pissed, I just thought it was amusing. Wonder how she'll feel when the story comes out in the paper and my fat little face is in the middle of it, seeing the reporter came on the Sunday afternoon?

I admit to a small twinge of uncharitable pleasure at the thought.

There were several good things to this weekend, not least of which was the fact that this event netted our charity nine complete blankets, and the squares and yarn to make several more were taken home by the ladies in attendance. These will trickle back over the next couple of months, and should total about another 10-15 blankets.

Each knitted blanket represents about 110 hours of work and each crocheted one rings in at about 60 hours. There are a lot of folks who should be proud of themselves around this neck of the woods.

Most of the people who help out are seniors, although we have women (and a few men) in their 20s helping out, and one of the big contributors the last two years has been a private school whose grade 7-12 girls have been knitting up a storm.

Little Miss Disparaging Realtor who was here yesterday was looking at the boxes of yarn and squares and the piles of blankets and asked if I had thought of asking anyone else involved if they would offer me storage space (gee, no, thanks for mentioning it!). I said that many of the people involved were seniors in smaller homes and didn't have the space to offer and she sniffed and said "well yes, it WOULD be mostly old people who would do this sort of thing."

Yes. Only old decrepit grannies with nothing else to do in their lives would do something as time-wasting as knit, hmm? I'm just waiting for her to tell me that she'll "let me knit her a sweater" (yes, I've heard that line before, as have likely most of you). I'll have a price list ready. At the rate at which I knit, she's gonna have to pay me about $400 for a simple pullover. And it's gonna be made out of acrylic.

One of the other good things was that I got another dishcloth finished for that order that the lady wants (please note one more item on sidebar tally) and I got a couple inches into the next one. I'm using the red/green/white variegated Lynne sent and ... well ... remember how Rebecca was rudely commenting that my dishcloths were so bad that they wouldn't just make her eyes bleed, they would make her DISHES bleed? This is the worst one ever. I think this would make the dishes actually commit suicide. Even I am having trouble with this one and I'm notoriously tasteless.

The REALLY sad thing is that I secretly sort of like it, too.

The worst thing is that I just admitted it. In public. And I'm sober.

Another fantastic thing is that my daughter is clearly some sort of creative genius. This evening she took it into her head to make a book. She found a bunch of blank paper, stapled it together, taped a picture I had painted to the front of it and then "wrote" her story on all of the subsequent pages. The writing doesn't actually have any letters in it, it all looks like brightly coloured seagulls, but it's still pretty damned impressive for a four-year-old.

Not that I'm prejudiced or anything.

I'll let you all know when her first book signing is scheduled.

Four years old hmmm? Give her another couple of years and she can be drafted into the dishcloth war.

You could start her now (it HAS been done!) but that might add to your stress level rather than subtract from your work load.
I'm all to familiar with the "Don't do nothins". Jen and I, along with our hubbies were once stupid enough to be a part of this particular not-for-profit organization. The four of us did 95% of the work, got 100% of the complaints, and 2% of the credit. Yeah, we told them to kiss our asses, and never looked back.
WOW a book now that is amazing!!! maybe she's super intellagent like her mum is super woman hehe

luv ya
At the rate at which I knit, she's gonna have to pay me about $400 for a simple pullover. And it's gonna be made out of acrylic.

My policy: They can do an hour of housework for ever hour I knit. I chose the tasks: Cleaning windows, toilets, vaccuming etc. No namby pamby fluffing and folding or cooking counts toward the hours.
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