Sunday, December 31, 2006
2006 In Review
Read the freakin' archives.
You're welcome.
next: 2007 resolutions
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Economic Awareness, Consciousness, Sensitivity!
It is to laugh. No really. I'm sitting here, shaking my head, wondering what in the purple screaming fuck some folks are thinking.
A yarn store owner who has a problem with Wendy's yarn diet:
posted, using those words and also a whole bunch of asterisks and ampersands and stuff that I think were supposed to stand for cusswords.
(note: real ladies aren't scared to write cusswords out in full. Even Franklin does it. He is now an honourary "lady". You're welcome. Remember to hold your pinkie out while you drink those boilermakers with Dolores.)
You see, a customer came into her store -- from the way she worded it, I got the impression that this wasn't someone she was familiar with, someone who came in weekly to spend half the food budget on yarn -- and said that she had to buy a lot of patterns because she was going to knit up her stash. Just one more week to buy yarn and then that was it for nine months.
This store owner asked her if she was doing the godawful sent-straight-from-the-bowels-of-hell-and-the-minds-of-those-who-wish-to-ruin-her "knit from your stash" thing, and the customer said yes.
The owner -- presumably in her post, and not to this poor lady's face -- then went rank, thanking Wendy yet again for trashing her business and said that she should think about things like "Economic Awareness, Consciousness, Sensitivity!"
OK, I can understand the panic of someone who sees her livelihood being threatened, but let's look at this for a minute. She took a fit because someone who was standing there buying things from her wasn't going to buy things from her. It's a little difficult to support a claim of lost business while listening to the jingle of the cash register, no? And last time I checked, patterns weren't cheap.
(note to Alanis, this is the meaning of "ironic". What you were singing about is nothing more than bad luck, bad judgement, bad timing and -- excuse me for mentioning it -- bad hygiene).
There have been "stats" bandied about (and did you know that 47.8% of all statistics are made up?) about there having been a 30% reduction in yarn sales. I did a little research, and although it was far from being an in-depth analysis, I discovered that in fact Michael's and Jo-Ann's and some of the larger chains had reported anything up to a 38% reduction in yarn sales over the first quarter of 2006 when compared to the same period last year.
My personal opinion is that this reflects the move of the general knitting populace away from acrylic and novelty yarns to a greater concentration on natural or "fine" fibres. There were no stats available from indies, as far as I know. I didn't sell a lot of wool last year, but I picked up a few bucks, and those had to come from somewhere. From what I understand, Felicia's gorgeous yarns sell like hotcakes (and rightfully so!) and Jacey has to battle the ravening hordes (HORDES, people, could you please keep your minds out of the gutter?) to keep a skein for herself now and again.
I think that the appearance of more and more independent retailers selling unique, one of a kind, quality items has perhaps taken a bite out of Big Brother (or Sister). Big Sibling will merely divest itself of revenue-negative items and expand into other areas. They'll survive. Don't cry for me Ike and Tina, and all of that.
From what I can see, there has also been a marked upswing in spinners who are actually MAKING their own yarn and therefore likely purchasing a little less manufactured yarn, but what of the sales in roving, batts, wheels, orifice hooks, niddy noddies, Woolee Winders, swifts, and all of that other stuff with deliciously pornographic names (and far more polite but no less delicious functions)?
There seems to me to be no lack of opportunity for the commercially astute.
So now I come to the point in my
Economic Awareness, Consciousness, Sensitivity.
I don't think I need to say more about the rampant do-gooding that is close to my heart.
As I said, I can certainly understand discomfort when one is faced with a decrease in one's income but a) I don't think it's going to happen and b) I don't think the choice of words or the degree of panic is warranted under the circumstances.
So, dude, chill. Everyone who is doing this has "exceptions" to the rule. Wendy and La say that sock yarn isn't stash. Some folks are saying that baby stuff or gift stuff doesn't count. Stuff you buy for others doesn't count. Me, I have an "I'm too sexy for my stash" card once a fucking month. Plus my birthday thingie, and Wendy has one of those shortly also. I mean really. We're not putting anyone out of business. We're just using up some of our shit (while secretly thinking that you're a bit of a twat.)
Stock up on handspun instead of commercial yarns -- it'll sell. Stock up on patterns, sock yarn, spinning accessories. Dyes, maybe some roving, maybe some project pouches.
And more than that, take a fucking pill and get over it.
Well Of Course That's Where We Keep It
It would seem that the festivities have all been too much for me. I have, yet again, reached a state of near-total inertia.
I realized this tonight as I looked around at the living room. The living room in which I was fairly certain I used to have carpet. Now all that can be seen is an ocean of styrofoam peanuts.
My studio is indescribable, the car is worse. The child's bedroom should be condemned.
And I seem to have lost one of my favourite wine glasses. One cannot help but wonder if it had wine in it at the time and if, perhaps, that would explain a few things.
Nonetheless it is gone. Fortunately I have five others and I only use one at a time. Or, apparently, sometimes two: one for wine and one for losing somewhere in the house. (I mean dude, where on earth do you lose a large blue mexican glass wineglass? Possibly with wine in it?)
I've completely lost it and what makes it worse is that everyone seems to think I'm supposed to be holding things together and will not leave me alone. I realized the extent of the meltdown tonight when I found the lid to the parmesan cheese tub in a box of Christmas cards where it must have been residing since we lost it three days ago and almost slapped myself for not looking there earlier. I mean, where else would it be?
So If I owe you a phone call, an email, or a package, well I could come up with all sorts of fancy explanations as to why it isn't there, but the simple reason is that I'm insane. (I keep hearing the phone ringing, too, but I'm pretty sure nobody's calling me at 1:15 in the morning, but I digress.)
I have the next three days off work (and that's a whole nother kettle of fish that we just won't be talking about any time soon) and hope to regain at least a small part of my sanity during that time.
There will be posting of more hats, the drawing of the last few prizes, photographing of some finished objects (and I'm not buying the Sea Silk -- I've started knitting up my stash instead). I might even sleep. And go to the post office.
And drink some wine if I can find the damned glass.
Friday, December 29, 2006
It Ain't Over 'Til The Fat Lady Cooks
Giftmas is now officially over. I cooked.
Ben had to work on Christmas day, so Eleanor and I made the trek up to my parents' place for dinner but it just ain't the same as having your own. I could whine on forever about the dinner but it would make me feel like an ungrateful twat (which, of course, I am) so let me just say that tonight we were all at home, and we had turkey the way we like it, carrots and sprouts (again the way we like them), potatoes, gravy and so on.
And, somehow, demolished a box of creampuffs for dessert. Oops.
There are two pots of soup on the stove (courtesy of hubby), two big plates of turkey in the fridge, and life is good.
And now we can take down the damned decorations and get back to knitting, mmkay?
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Why I Love My Husband
This blog is my space to vent, and there are a few folks out there who have a serious hate on for my husband because of the things I've written.
And all of the things I've written are true, and I have been so seriously in hate with him more than once that I've planned an escape. But I'd like to post a few things that will explain why I stay.
Three or four Xmooses ago he bought me a box of chocolates from Over the Moon. Over the Moon is an amazing place here in Vancouver. They handmake their goods and I only know of one better in town. He gave me this big box and I handed it all around because I wanted everyone to know how good it was and just have a great big mouthful of chocolatey joy.
As we were going to bed that night, he gave me a tiny box from Over The Moon with four chocolates in it ... and he said it was just for me, because he knew I would have given all of the big box away. He knows me that well.
This xmoose he did it one better. He got a box of chocolates from Purdy's. Purdy's isn't as good as OTM but they have chocolate gingers. There are like six people in Canada who have a serious craving for candied ginger covered in dark chocolate. I happen to be one of them. I have no idea why Purdy's continues to make these as the market has to be miniscule but they do and I praise them for it.
So I have half a pound of these sitting on the coffee table, and I can go to bed in complete confidence that every single one that I leave there tonight will still be there in the morning.
All for me.
And ... and also too as well ... his mother sent us a huge box of presents ... toys, clothes, bla bla bla, and also a check for $100. We were talking about stuff and I said something about how I wished I had a swift because I had fucked up my back winding up some wool I had to dye, and he said that he had been trying to figure out how to get me a swift, but he didn't know how much it cost and where he could get one, and I said well they're $80 over at Birkeland but I can't do that for a couple of months ...
And he said well mom sent us $100, you can get a swift. And I said yes, that's nice, but it's for both of us and you won't use it and we should pay for the phone or something. And he said she would be pissed off if we spent it on the phone, and I need a swift and he would use it too (and I said no you wouldn't you ass, and he said well yes, I would watch you wind stuff and that's sort of sexy and then I slapped him).
So yeah. It would seem that not only did he buy me two books I've never read but I want to, and a whole box of chocolates that nobody will try to eat, but he also demands ... I mean Right. Fucking. Demands. ... that I buy a swift. With the xmoose money sent to us both.
So there are a lot of reasons. Let's not kill him this week, ok?
Monday, December 25, 2006
I Couldn't Be Prouder
Daughter woke me, late ... having opened her stocking and the two presents "I said she could open" (I didn't but she's six and couldn't resist). She was wearing the wristers she'd knit for herself.
She got a knitting machine thingie for xmoose. Opened the box, figured it out, made wristers (different lengths, different colours, holes, who cares?) and wore them to wake me up.
Dudes, I did something right.
May all of you have a day filled with this much joy.
Sunday, December 24, 2006
Merry Christmas
Or whatever else you celebrate. And if you don't celebrate anything, have a good Monday.
The halls are decked but I'm in the middle of the Annual Christmas Family Meltdown. It ain't gonna be pretty. If I survive tomorrow (or even tonight) I'll be back with tales of merriment and outrage. And maybe some wool I've dyed.
If not, well, just remember: if you are organizing Xmas dinner and you've invited your whole family, one of whom is a six year old grandchild, telling her mother two days before the big day that you haven't bought toys this year isn't a good way to start the whole holiday off, mmkay?
note: clothes and anything "educational" are not presents when someone is six. give the kid toys and candy and shut up, thereby preventing the need for the mother to run screaming into the stores after her shopping is all done, inviting incipient bankruptcy and making her somewhat hate-filled.
that is all
Saturday, December 23, 2006
Oh Baby Don't It Feel Like Heaven Right Now?
Yes. And it certainly feels like something from a dream. Thank you Mr. Petty.
Xmas shopping is over. Anything that is unbought shall remain unbought, or at least by me. Giftmas knitting is not over and may not be. I'm hoping that nobody cares much. I certainly don't.
I survived the mall, and should I survive dinner and the subsequent decking of the halls and then the consumption of rather a lot of wine (or maybe beer. As long as there's likker involved I don't much care right now) there may be pictures.
However, I would just like to note that whoever came here looking for "knitted vomit" really needs to rethink their next project. Or maybe be a little nicer about the stuff I make.
Either. Both.
In Case You Were Wondering
No, I'm not dead. I'm just trying to deal with the no sleep and the xmoose thingie.
I have finished objects! Yes, some of it is even The Christmas Knitting which I wasn't going to do, but I did.
And a product review. Bought some Clover Bamboo circs. Let's just say the review isn't favourable.
All will be revealed later, unless I end up face-down in my eggnog. But right now I'm going to the mall. Wish me strength.
If I don't come back, Ann gets my stash.
I have finished objects! Yes, some of it is even The Christmas Knitting which I wasn't going to do, but I did.
And a product review. Bought some Clover Bamboo circs. Let's just say the review isn't favourable.
All will be revealed later, unless I end up face-down in my eggnog. But right now I'm going to the mall. Wish me strength.
If I don't come back, Ann gets my stash.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
My Rules Which Are Mine And Belong To Me
OK, the yarn diet rules. And please remember that these rules are only for me, I'm not asking anyone else to play along, and really, it's a diet, not a fast. Don't we just cut down on a diet?
1. If there is money left after xmas I am going back to see if those two skeins of Sea Silk are still in the store because I want them badly. This is not a rule, and it'll be done in December, I just wanted to mention it because they were very sexy. I have no plans for them further than purchasing and fondling.
Which leads to:
2. I will do this for nine months, starting on January 1. However, I get one "that yarn is too damned sexy to leave in the store" card a month. Not cumulative. But people, I'm only human. And I'm also more likely NOT to buy something when I know I can.
3. Birthday yarn is exempt from all rules. I am turning 45 on January 21 and I'll buy whatever the fuck I want. Quite frankly the two or three stores I frequent, plus a couple of online places I plan on visiting, may not need to make another sale this year after the 21st.
4. Yarn I buy as a gift for someone (and which I actually send) or yarn that is sent to me as a gift, or won, is exempt. This does not mean I can send people money to buy yarn and send it to me because that's just stupid.
5. Books, needles, notions and any dyes or wool for dyeing and selling are exempt.
6. I'm not wearing any pants.
7. Spinning fibre is included. I have roving, locks, batts, sliver, bumps, bags, boxes and sacks of fleece and fibre everywhere. I can't have any more until the fall unless for some bizarre reason I manage to spin it all, knit it all, AND knit all of my stash before then (stop laughing, it could happen. In an alternate universe where there were ten of me and none of them had to work or do dishes or eat or bathe or anything like that).
8. If I fall off the wagon and don't make it, no kittens will die. I'll just not make it. No biggie. The whole purpose of this is to reduce some of the obscene stash I'm sitting on while people elsewhere are starving. Not that they could eat my stash, especially after I'd sat on it because that would just be gross and who wants pounds of wool tasting like bunniesnatch (see #6 above) but you know what I mean.
9. I shall endeavour to post pictures of my stash and chronicle what I'm doing with it. I may even manage to do some sort of inventory before the end of the month so we can see if this makes any difference at all. Because dudes, all that "flash your stash" stuff I've done over the years is only the tip of the iceberg.
10. I shall finish some objects. Finish. Not just make one sock or one mitten. Finish. There will be pictures.
11. If any yarn stores are driven into bankruptcy because of my wanton knitting of fibre I already own, I shall send them sammidges. Peanut butter. And I hate peanut butter.
That is all.
Unless I think of something else later.
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
What In Yarnation ... ?
As many of you know, Wendy has decided to go on a yarn diet.
Of sorts. There are rules, regulations, exceptions (well duh), and many invitations to divert, subvert and pervert the rules to suit your own ... well, your own diverse, subversive perversions, I suppose.
I wasn't going to join in.
As many of you may remember, the last time I tried this -- and that wasn't even a DIET, but a yarn FOCUS, with a "free day" every month and bla bla bla ... well, I went three months without buying so much as dental floss, and then all hell let loose:
Yeah, the spoils of one afternoon. Couple hours, really.
By no means has all of this been used up, and it's but a tiny peek into the corner of the fibre obscenity that is this studio. The pink varigated has been knat into a hat for my daughter (gorgeous stuff, and allegedly discontinued, which is steaming my sphincter but I digress), the blue in the bottom centre has been made into fingerless mitts for me, a couple of hats for my drunken hat challenge, and one mitten (hopefully soon to be two) for my mother unless she pisses me off again and then they'll go to someone else (I'm nothing but tidings of comfort and joy around this time of year, hmm?). And ooh! I'd forgotten about those Romney locks. Dude. How could I forget that?
The brown C220 is a sweater for my husband. I'm thinking of just gluing the yarn to him instead of knitting it. What was I thinking, marrying a man with a 54" chest? Clearly crack was free that week.
I can't even begin to tally what's around here. I may not live long enough to use it all. Hell, nobody READING this right now may live long enough to use it all. (no, this is not an offer to come and start raiding my stash, although i do intend to have a fairly extensive stash-fondling experience with a couple of you in the very near future. trust me, you will go home with stuff, not all of which will require medical intervention.)
But I still wasn't going to join because, when finances permit, I like buying yarn, roving, dyes, going into all of the local stores, fondling the fibres, sniffing bags of wool and deciding which ones need to come home with me, etc. I take my kid and we both have just a hoot. I've trained her well.
I support a couple of local stores, there are some online places I like, bla dee bla.
No, it was all just too much. Or so I thought.
And then I followed a comment from Wendy's blog. A comment left by someone who thought this was a Very Bad Idea. A comment linked to a brand-new blog whose author is starting out by swiping other people's graphics and then using them in a post dissing that person. Also a Very Bad Idea, or at least an appallingly tacky one.
Dissing that person because the commentor owns a yarn store and if Wendy, who clearly controls the Yarniverse, tells people to stop buying yarn then she'll go out of business.
Now the cranky comment was one thing but then the bullshit on the blog? Quite another. So we who have far more wool than anyone with sense should possess should buy more, rather than using up the beauty we've collected over the years? We should spend money that could go instead to all sorts of wonderful causes like, oh, people and animals who wouldn't mind maybe eating now and again, that sort of thing?
If, for a business to survive, it is required that people who have far too much of something purchase more of it, is that business even required in that location? I mean, if you had two gas stations in town and there was really only enough business for one ... would everyone think it made sense to drive around for an extra three hours a day out of charity?
I think not. In fact if one were to do such a thing one would be castigated for wanton excess. But it somehow makes sense that out of a sense of charity towards someone who is clearly a completly selfish twat (as well as being tacky ... please don't forget the tacky) we should commit the same sort of act with relation to yarn?
Bullshit.
If there is a market for her business in her area, her business will survive (if she modifies her damned attitude perhaps). If there isn't, it won't. It's called commerce.
And I love me some commerce.
I really don't think that my business (or lack thereof) is going to cause some chick in Va. to go out of business -- mostly because I have never purchased anything from her and likely never will. I do think that she's pissed me off enough that I'm joining Wendy.
I don't care that it may well affect the fact that I dye and sell wool and the like. I'm willing to take my chances. Commerce, and all.
Many fine yarns that have been languishing in my stash lo' these many years will shortly see the light of day.
I may not do the whole nine months. I'll come up with some "rules" and exceptions of my own tomorrow. For now, I've just realized my babysitter arrives in 15 minutes and I'm thinking she won't want to catch me in the shower so I should run.
I said in an email earlier today to Carol that I wasn't going to share this story, but I lied. And are you surprised?
A couple of weeks ago I was in the shower and Missy Moo came into the room, looking for me. I said I was in the shower and she hauled the curtain back, took one look at me and then ran through the house screaming "The Horror" and giggling uncontrollably. I got my own back by pointing out that in 38 years she's gonna look just like this.
This was amusing as hell, to both of us, but quite frankly I don't want to have to pay for the babysitter's therapy as well as for Eleanor's.
I don't need therapy. I have beer.
Carry on.
Monday, December 18, 2006
Oh Thank FSM It's Here
The pre-giftmas meltdown. *applause*
I'm totally fucked, stressed into total inaction and wondering when the last time I had a shower might have been.
So, um, if you call don't expect me to answer the phone. Or call back. Or even pay the phone bill so it will ring.
I'll be just fine if I can knit ALL of Branching Out at work tonight, get everything packed up tomorrow and get over the border to mail stuff Express on Wednesday. Otherwise y'all are getting new years gifts. Or Easter.
(i fell asleep instead of doing anything last night, and then had to spend most of the morning waiting for Ukranian Tire to put a new battery in the car, hence the hysteria. i was holding it all together just fine until this morning. really. shut up.)
Saturday, December 16, 2006
Row Your Own Damned Boat Ashore
Today I decided the time was nigh to get busy with some more do-goodery, seeing I couldn't be continuously outdone by the Mad Bastard Jam Master (that's her new gangsta name. Her pear/ginger jam is amazingly good.)
No rilly, she's involved in like 900 projects or something. It's quite frightening.
I had spent quite some time yesterday indulging in gloriously vulgar excess at My Little Fibre Pusher (seriously, I love this store) and was feeling marginally guilty even though everything I bought is to be dyed and re-sold. Apparently I'm just sort of an ass like that.
So anyhow, Her Surreal Highness and I got into the royal chariot (a.k.a. The Piece of Shit Van) and trundled out to Richmond to a certain Arts and Crafts Store which will remain nameless and unlinked, but only because they do some stuff for one of the charity dealies I'm involved with (and which I'm dropping in the spring) and despite today's events I would like them to continue to do so. Especially seeing I'll never have to see the inside of that particular store from now until the day I die.
We got there about 7:30. They're open until 9pm so it's hardly like we were doing a last-minute rush. Despite their central location and the imminence of The Dreaded Day, the store was startlingly empty. Perhaps this should have been my first clue, but I've been there several times before and I hardly took it as a harbinger of evil.
Oh dopey me.
We were there both as paying customers (I got an art set for my daughter, and something else I can't show you as it's the makings for a present for someone who reads this) and at the request of their Events Coordinator, who had called earlier in the week specifically to request that I come out to pick up five blankets they had completed.
It's cold out and I know folks are in need, so I happily agreed to spend a couple of hours picking them up and getting them out to the shelters, even though I really would rather have spent the evening
I guess I should have known by the blank looks on everyone's faces when I mentioned the organization I was representing that there was going to be some sort of trouble. I really didn't expect to be treated like I was attempting to swipe something I wasn't "entitled" to, or spoken to with overt hostility. I really didn't expect to be chastized for showing up after the person I had spoken to had already left for the day.
I stuck the kid back in the van (and had to use the starter to get it going, but this time it worked) and drove off in high dudgeon.
I reported it to my head office and they're including it in a report to the corporate head office of the place, because it would seem this isn't all that unusual with regard to their behaviour.
Guess I've been really spoiled 'cause the two or three stores I deal with the most have been fantastic for the last four or five years I've been doing this.
But as for the one in Richmond? Feh. I've dropped it from my roster, I won't be visiting again. The person who had asked me to come do the pick-up is now going to find herself responsible for all of the administrative features of the project with regard to her store. And she doesn't get paid extra for it.
Sorry dude, but you're gonna have to row your own damned boat ashore.
Hallelujah, and all.
Friday, December 15, 2006
Powerless
My parents have been without power (which means without heat, too) since 3am today. Ours went out briefly about that time, but it's back on now.
My road is blocked off (I can sneak out the also-blocked-off side road), there is an entire tree through the middle of my neighbour's house and they say it's going to snow tomorrow.
So I'm sort of sitting here wondering a) who we pissed off; b) what we did; and c) how we can fix it. Because I've got to tell you, it's not quite as much fun as it sounds.
Thursday, December 14, 2006
Oh Sweet FSM, The Child Asked
So my daughter is fascinated by babies. She loves them and always wants me to tell her stories about babies and about when she was a baby and how she grew in my tummy and all.
I've explained to her that she didn't actually grow in my tummy but in a special place called a uterus that women have for the purpose of growing babies. She thought that was sort of cool ... a second tummy just for babies.
I knew it was coming, but it would seem that last night while I was out at work, she asked her Daddy how the babies got INTO the mummy's tummy.
*gulp*
He explained to her that there was an ovum and it got fertilized by sperm from the daddy and then it created one cell that got planted in the uterus and grew into a baby. And then she wanted to know how the sperm got from the daddy to the egg.
So he told her that the daddy had to put his penis into the mummy. She knows what a penis is, seeing we've explained the different bits to her.
And she said "REALLY????" And he said yes.
There was a long silence.
And then she said "REALLY???" Because she was pretty sure he was telling some sort of horrible joke.
And he said yes.
And there was another long silence.
And then she said "eww, gross" and changed the subject.
He told me all of this when I got home from work this morning. I told him that I'm still not sure it's not all a horrible joke, but thanked him for explaining it to her.
Christ.
WHY was it I wanted children again? I'm just dreading the explanation about menstruation. And how babies get OUT.
Shoot me now.
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Tag, I'm It!
The Bunni has tagged me for a meme, and as we all know, if you thwart a Bunni all you get at easter are things that look like raisins but really aren't and I wouldn't eat those if I were you.
So, in the interest of not ending up with a mouth full of poop:
“THE RULES:Each player of this game starts with the ‘6 weird things about you.’ People who get tagged need to write a blog of their own 6 weird things as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose 6 people to be tagged and list their names. Don’t forget to leave a comment that says ‘you are tagged’ in their comments and tell them to read your blog.”
1. I didn't learn to drive until I was 33.
2. I am a packrat and have trouble throwing things out even if I don't like them.
3. I am terrified of bees, to the point of hysteria.
4. I am also terrified of fire, but hate living in a house without a fireplace and, when I am fortunate enogh to have one, light fires almost constantly. (In the fireplace, sillies.)
5. I agreed to marry a man I met on the internet before I met him and who I had only seen one bad fuzzy picture of (we're still married).
6. I have crippling performance anxiety and despite this used to do standup comedy.
There. Weird enough?
Tagged:
Ann
Marcia
Big Alice
Wenchlette
Mouse
Maryse
Don't hate me, guys. This is all for the sake of the Bunni (for whom I also entered a trivia contest over at Grommie's place and won a fabulous box of really nasty candy and a delicious jar of Blackberry Mango jam and was rude enough not to even link to her).
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
OK, Not All Kids are Cute
In fact most are little germ-covered, booger-eating disease factories who talk back and you can't just put them in the fucking closet because then someone calls the Ministry on you and it's all just too much.
But really, isn't she the cutest?
the impartial queen of prize selection, here in her element
And here she is, holding up #37. Sally, that's you. I don't think I have an email for you ... drop me a line? You won yourself a book.
It doesn't get much more fun than this.
Sunday, December 10, 2006
I Brought Her Wool and She Jumped Me
Tonight I had the singularly pleasant experience of spending my pre-dinner hour driving around town with Her Surreal Highness and delivering wool to two of the ladies who won prizes at that hat dealie over there.
My first visit was to Heather and it was really delightful to meet her face-to-face after having previously corresponded with her via email. We arrived a little late, due to my address-related dyslexia. (On one side of main street the addresses go UP, on the other side they go DOWN. OK, so I'm a little special or something.) We had a brief chat on her front porch and I scuttled back to the car feeling all warm and fuzzy.
The fuzziness quickly dissipated as I started my piece of shit van and ...
No, wait. Let me rephrase that. The fuzziness quickly dissipated as I tried to start my piece of shit van and discovered to my distress that starting just wasn't in our immediate future. (I will here interject that not the entire van is a piece of shit, however the battery-related portions thereof are decidedly fecal and we might as well just admit it and move on). I smugly hauled out The Eliminator, a recent bicep-flexing, sweaty testosterone-fuelled purchase. (seriously, after buying this -- an older model actually -- I was scared that The Uterus Police were going to come to my house and revoke my right to gestate)
I quickly discovered that no matter how butch you feel when buying things like this, you swiftly turn into a slightly-embarrassed summer school art-camp reject when you realize that you haven't recharged it since the last time you had to boost your own piece of shit battery and it doesn't have enough power to boost said crapulorious item yet again.
I gathered up Missy Moo, carefully avoiding the cheerful and very chatty junkie on the sidewalk (she was very nice and completely harmless, and quite possibly will be one of the persons benefiting from these hats y'all have been sending in, but really, this was no time for idle, slightly slurred, chitchat). We raced back to Heather's house and stood on the doorstep for a few minutes, fruitlessly pushing the doorbell. I wondered if the yarn lust had perhaps overtaken her and she was unable to answer the door, but soon figured that Kureyon is nice, but it's hardly merino/tussah and this was unlikely. I knocked and she quickly came to the door, explaining that the doorbell doesn't work.
I was relieved. I'd hate to think that she was that easy. (I hold out for tencel, at the very least, myself.)
She obligingly brought her vehicle along the street to where I was (illegally) parked and we got The Beast started again with little further ado. We agreed that there was almost no possiblity that my van was a tool of the debbil, as if in fact it was it would likely work better, but that a new battery was likely a good idea.
I didn't tell her that this was the first time I'd ever jumped my own car from another vehicle, and that usually I relied on the menfolk (or more knowledgeable womenfolk) to help me with this, or on The Eliminator. I think I pulled it off pretty well, though. I'm betting she didn't realize until just about now that I'm nowhere near as tough as I was pretending to be.
Thanks again, Heather! And I'm (almost) sorry I just trashed your reputation
We then set off to Chéz Quimby to deliver the yummy, yummy Regia Erin won, just in time for her first sock class in January.
Regia was the yarn I used for the first sock (somehow lost in the chaos of this studio) I ever made, and although I've never yet fondled a sock yarn I didn't like, I must say I have a soft spot for it. Beautiful bright colours and it's soft!
(I say that as if I've made a million socks. I have completed two, have one that's well past the gusset but has the wrong number of stitches on the needles, and the cuff of another. That's my entire sock history. I've just got an amazing shitpile of sock yarn here so I feel like I'm some sort of expert.)
Missy E and I took a present for Erin's demented husband as well, and in return for this largesse we received the cutest take-out carton type box full of the world's most amazing home-made cookies. Dudes, I have NO idea what she does with these but I've never had better cookies in my life and I'm very sorry I told Ben where I put the box. Or Eleanor for that matter.
I suspect there may be crack or something in them 'cause Miss I-Don't-Have-Much-Of-A-Sweet-Tooth here ate four or five without even taking a breath.
I'm thinking of mugging her for the recipe next time we go over (she's due for more yarn in about a week to ten days, I think) but we all know how much I bake. Maybe I should just work on ways to become her new verybestfriend.
They're that good. Now let's just hope she doesn't find out what a bitch I really am and never asks me over again.
Oops.
Saturday, December 09, 2006
THIS Hurts
I just went and typed the url for this blog into here.
And I am CRYING with laughter. No really. It's hurting my face. And shizzle.
Wasn't This Supposed to Hurt?
I was all prepared. I have ibuprofen, tylenol, a bottle of T3s, and a case of beer. My husband even has 2/3 of a bottle of good whiskey. (no i wasn't going to mix the liquor and the pills. unless it worked)
And here I am, after fourteen or fifteen hours of sleep, feeling just fine. Minor discomfort, that's it. No swollen face, no gouts of blood, nothing. Nothing near the amount of pain I was getting from that tooth when it lived in my mouth.
It's quite anticlimactic really.
So in honour of "my face doesn't hurt and doesn't look stupid so I don't have anything to blog about" day, I shall spend the day decorating the xmoose tree (yes, it's up. I have a six-year-old. shut up), getting ingredients for cookies (thousands of small children --well, just one -- coming over to bake tomorrow), cleaning house, and posting more pictures of Hats. And drawing for the prizes, which was supposed to happen yesterday but I was all, like, passed out, and shit.
And maybe dyeing wool.
Oh yes, and starting the Christmas Knitting. It's about time to start now, isn't it?
Friday, December 08, 2006
Now 25% Less Wise!
I had my "difficult extraction" this morning and, as I'm still frozen, am perfectly happy. I suspect there will be steadily-decreasing amounts of joy as the day wears on.
It was one of my wisdom teeth, so now I only have three. Expect an appropriately-reduced level of wisdom from this blog in future.
It was easy, and fairly quick. One certainly doesn't like to hear things like "fused bone" and "twisted roots" (ha! I typed that as "twisted toots" and now I'm all giggling and stupid. See what I mean about less wisdom? Yesterday I wouldn't have cracked a smile at that.) while one's dentist is staring at the lump he pulled out of one's mouth but hey, it's all over and done and now I'm more stupid, likely things like that won't bother me as much.
If I can even remember them.
I went to the PO box today and got an utterly obscene (in a good kind of way) avalanche of hats. I'm hoping to sleep a bit today and then take photographs (or at least get people entered into the spreadsheet) and get Prize #1 drawn, which will be the yarn from the lovely Lady Wyvern who I can't even be moved to link to right now because I'm sort of out of it.
And now to sleep ... perchance to scream.
Thursday, December 07, 2006
I Have The Map of Japan on My Ass
First picture taken on the 4th, by me. Who says you can't take a picture of your own ass?
Second picture, taken on the 7th by my husband.
Butt crack edited out for the sake of the dainty. And my sweet FSM, am I WHITE or what?
If you live in Japan, please feel free to point out where your home is.
I am still slightly swollen, can't lie back in the bath or lean back in a chair. A deep and comfortable sofa is my enemy. Rolling over to the left in bed is right out of the question.
I do believe I pranged myself up a bit.
THANKS A LOT, WINTER, YOU FINALLY MADE ME POST MY ASS ON THE INTERWEBS.
Bah. It hurts. Send ibuprofen.
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
Pissed Off. And, Apparently, On.
There are changes afoot at work. The main change seems to be that (mis)management is now playing "Use the Rabbitch for a Pinata".
I'm not pleased.
However as I don't want to end up like that silly cow who got famous by being fired for blogging about work, I shall just whine about it in private email.
Quite frankly, the only thing that stopped me from tripping an old lady or drowning a hamster today was the fact that all of you rock immensely, and I got to spend the afternoon on the Downtown East Side delivering knitted goodies.
Today's total:
20 hats to DEYAS
10 blankets, 2 knitted teddy bears, 6 hats to SheWay
4 blankets, 20 hats to Triage
20 hats to The Union Gospel Mission
9 hats, 2 scarves, 1 headband to ARA Mental Health
That's 75 hats, people.
It would make me feel all warm and fuzzy if I weren't looking for the liquor and a chainsaw right about now.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
In Heat
No, not that sort of "in heat", you perverts. Although I wouldn't say no ...
But I digress.
Frequently.
I've just spent 24 hours without heat in my house and lemme tellya, it sucked. Sucked and blew, alternately. Who knew both were equally vile? I think I have a slightly better understanding of why I do all of this annoying do-goodery. We had hot (screaming hot!) water, a stove, a space heater, we were living indoors and had lots of blankets and a hot water bottle (which, despite what Jen wants her MIL to think, is a fairly common househould item) and still the whining was fairly extensive.
And mostly mine, really.
I can't think it's a lot more fun on the streets.
My furnace is working again and my washing machine never stopped, so I'm washing some more blankets to take down to the shelters (and ladies, if you don't cut it right the fuck out with the cheese-flavoured popcorn i'm going to have to get snippy. persnickety even. these blankets stink and my hydro bill is through the roof) and seeing I'm not working tonight (amazing, even people like me get vacation from time to time) I'm gonna get them Hats opened and photographed and maybe even make a list of the prizes; the drawings for which will start on Friday.
Right now I have to go pry a small sugar-crazed Muppet out of the bath and stick her in bed, and then maybe drink beer. Although that's what side-tracked me from the hats in the first place, isn't it? Shut up.
While you're waiting for these famous pictures to actually show up, how's about you go read this chickie? She's my new girlcrush, she is.
I'll be back in a bit.
Monday, December 04, 2006
Wherein The Excitement is Almost Too Much
There has been much excitement Chéz Lapin. Laundry has been done, dishes have been washed. Just a giddy whirl, I tellya.
Oh yes, and I slept like ten hours last night.
Hats have also been photographed. All of the "orphans" have been put up for your viewing pleasure, and the more recent arrivals will start appearing after I give my child something wholesome like left-over spaghetti and some green beans for dinner. (Call the Ministry).
My life is almost as exciting as Ann's. You'd almost think she was Canadian.
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Bet You Thought I Couldn't Keep it Up
The post-a-day thingie, I mean.
Well, I'm betting you're right, however seemingly I'm going to try for a few more days.
The final hat count isn't in yet because I got busy playing trivia on IRC and drinking beer and I just didn't do it because I suck, so hopefully I'll get on that tonight. Although I'm at work, and so is my hubby, and he gets home an hour before I do and is making me a big pot of pasta. And the kid is out for the night. So um, maybe not.
Because as everyone knows, pasta is one of the best aphrodisiacs there is (or is it just me?)
Even though I'm at work, I had to write this post to bring to your attention the results of a recent study by the folks at We Feel Fine. Now seemingly I can't open this at work, which is most irritating, but apparently they have surveyed billyuns of blogs from all around the world and have reported on how everyone in each province is feeling and apparently the folks in BC are the most angry.
Which is blatantly untrue.
And that just pisses me off.
Oh, and I'm pretty miffed that my potato chips, which I am currently (not) enjoying with my sandwich, seem to be stale. Just thought I'd mention it.
i suspect that my blog may have skewed the stats somewhat. because it's all about me, right? please tell me it is or i'll be really mad
Saturday, December 02, 2006
Oh, So Hey ...
Yes, I say things like that. "Oh, so hey, I was thinking ..." I have no idea why I've been allowed to live for this long.
So yeah, I'm going to spend part of this afternoon drinking coffee (I just got up, but do not seem to be aware of actually having slept at any point today due to the Muppet's insistence that I could sleep perfectly fine if she sat beside -- and sometimes on me on the bed, watching TV, while I attempted to do so) and doing laundry (because life, as you well know, is an endless round of excitement Chéz Lapin) and then feeding 900 children and maybe getting dressed and then maybe breaking out the beer (if I have any) and opening the rest of these hat envelopes and taking some pictures and doing a tally and all.
Although it's after December 1, if you've knit a hat or three and still want to send them, please do, they'll find homes and I'm going to keep that PO box until at least April, probably longer. But, so hey, there's this Completely Wacked Chick who is doing a hat/scarf/toy knitted thingie and she could use your help too. If you'd rather send them to her, that's just fine by me.
Or do both. You know you can do it in amongst all of the Christmas knitting which we will not even talk about because la la la I can't hear you.
I am a complete ho and have missed the deadline for this and I feel vile about it, so if you've got time and can get mittens to her by December 10, which is only a week away people, please do. I can get the mittens made by then, no worries, but there's no way I can afford the express post that I'd have to use to get them to her on time. So yeah, I'm evil. And clearly no good at follow-through, either.
I have no idea what the point of this post was. Mostly to tell you about my peculiar pal and her knitting dealie, I think.
It's definitely time for coffee.
Well. More Lying. Clearly.
Either I lied on the questionnaire, or their results are skewed, 'cause I'm about as bad as the Welcome Wagon lady.
rawr
Friday, December 01, 2006
If You've Got the Money, Honey
Then I've Got the Twine.
Isn't that how that song went?
Anyhow, it's a complete and utter sin to call two skeins of Henry's Attic superwash merino in sockweight "twine", but this is the latest result of the dyepot Chéz Lapin.
My mad photography skillz having completely deserted me, I thought I'd try my mad scanner skillz. Still not so good, as the wool is a bit lighter than this but it's certainly better than the piggybarf I've been getting out of my camera of late.
This is for sale ($15cdn per skein), although I'd love to just sit about and fondle it for a while. Drop me a line if you're interested. If not, I'll stick it on the wool sale page once I've actually had some sleeeeeep.
ps, i got my days all mixed up and actually finished the nablopomo thingie yesterday. yay me
