Saturday, November 26, 2005


Adventures in Creative Traffic Management

When the going gets tough, the tough get going. Apparently they get going around and around in circles. It's surprising they don't end up with their noses stuck up their own butts.

On Friday I had the honour of meeting The Fidgety One at The Expensive Swedish Particleboard Furniture Store.

I have been meaning to go there for a year. I am missing one bolt from the leg of my dining room table and haven't been able to set it up since last Christmas. It's making the cat cry. And yet, when faced with the glory of Herself, all dressed in her beautiful Rogue sweater, well ... let's just say I forgot to buy the bolt. (I think I was more startled by the fact that I was only ten minutes late, and also by the fact that I found her taking her clothes off in the lineup to get her furniture. I had to assure her that in Canada it was sufficient to merely pay for your purchases and then quietly leave the establishment with them.)

After getting all of her stuff into her van (I note here that I managed to avoid doing any actual physical labour by the simple ruse of letting my child leave her coat in my van and having to hastily bundle her back into the vehicle before she froze to the parking lot) we headed out to eat and then fondle yarn. After a little of the driving in circles action interrupted only by a very bitchy conversation with the employee of the yarn store, we managed to find ourselves in the only Greek restaurant in North America run by vampires. (I can think of no other reason for the complete lack of garlic in any of the dishes. It is worth noting here that vampires are also averse to any form of flavour in their food, although they seem to have no compunction about overcharging for it.)

I am much hotter than I appear in this photograph

Despite the complete lack of culinary inspiration, we managed to have quite a hoot, such hooting enabled by the Naked Death-Head Barbie and the Vole Vomit Green Dishcloth.

Much, much hotter. Although Gaile looks pretty cute and the Barbie is accurate. And naked.

My daughter, the photographer for both of these shots, was on her best behaviour, although wisely refused to eat any of the flavourless food.

After filling ourselves with starch and liquid, we headed off to the yarn store.

It sucked. I won't name it, to avoid possible claims of libel, but there's only one yarn store in Steveston. You may Google for it, should you wish.

To start with, the yarns in this small and dingy establishment were arranged by colour. This is, IMNSHO, inefficient and stupid (not that I have a stance on this issue or anything) and makes it difficult to find anything. The yarn was all mashed into those little build-it-yourself wire cubicles and arranged in such a manner that if you removed one ball for closer observation, at least four others tumbled out after it.

I hate to think of how much time most of the yarn in that place has spent on the floor.

There were a lot of lovely yarns, however many of them were discontinued and still offered at full (very full) price, despite there being only a ball or two of them left.

I had never met Manos in person before. Should there have been sufficient privacy, I would have committed some sort of outrage upon it. It's utterly delicious.

I had also never met Colinette in person before. The outrage I was compelled to commit was of an entirely different nature. (I mean, people PAY for that? For the love of FSM, WHY?).

I was very tempted to buy a couple of skeins of something slinky by Berroco (Berocco? That place.) but keeping the telephonic bitchiness of the representative of the establishment firmly in mind, returned it promptly to its original resting place and contented myself with fondling many (unpriced) balls of yarn and making fun of two or three of the most vile sweaters I've seen in a long time. There were several that were gorgeous, however the two or three monstrosities are all that stand out in my mind lo, this day and a half later. Y'all have to be careful about presentation. Word to the wise.

All in all we had a fantastic time and we're going to do this again as soon as possible. Turns out that my buddy is just as evil as I am -- who'd a thunk? Just as soon as we can kick Ben to the curb we're getting hitched, seeing I seem to have proposed somehow over lunch. Oh well, these things happen (although usually only after a bottle of house red).

Turns out she's also as directionally-challenged as I am. If you take a peek at her blog you'll see that it took her an hour to get to us, and three or so to get back home. Startlingly enough, even though I've lived in this area oh, 22 years or so, the 30 km trip there turned into a 100 km trip home.

Clearly we're made for each other. You'll all be invited to the blessed event. Send salad spinners.

And maps.

Trollop! One lousy lunch and you propsed? What about Me? I'm evil too! I mean, sure we're significantly geographically challenged and you can't come to Toronto anymore because of that unfortunate airport flashing episode, but we could've made it work somehow. (it was that Rogue sweater, wasn't it? I have to stop being intimidated by the 175 pages of instructions and knit one for myself.)
A match made in Hades? Absolutely! Please add me to the invite list. I wouldn't miss it for the world!
Would vole vomit green yarn be an appropriate gift?
If you spin the salad greens around your head in a vole vomit green dishtowel you don't need a saad spinner. It helps to be outside though.
I've been to that yarn store and met that very staffer. I couldn't keep the yarn off the floor either, it mostly was unpriced then too, and the by-colour thing drove me mad. Never again. (There is, however, a delightful fish and chips place on one of inner streets there. It is cheap and good, and they would probably have cheerfully scrounged some ice cream for her Highness.)

If you and the Fidget set a date, I'll knit your bouquet. Seriously.
OK, so I got most of your anagrams or analogies or whatever "A" word means those abbreviations thingies, but "for the love of FSM" just plain stumped me.

Does it mean "Fucking Sock Monkey"? That's the only thing I could think of.

Oh, and the boyfriend still won't get me a spinning wheel. He doesn't see the point. I told him "Honey, do you like it when I sit around and look bored? No? Get me a spinning wheel then, you friggin beester." That didn't work. Any ideas? :)

Oh, and MHP and the puppy and I are coming for a visit. Let us know when will work for you. I need to escape the Christmas hell that my area has become. Send yarn.
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