Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Updates and Reviews
Honest, I remember that I make extravagant promises about photos and reviews and all, but then life gets on top of me and I just get all stupid and go drink beer instead.
So first, some updates:
The Hat Total is somewhere up around 230. There are more pictures and prizes and I'm hoping to get that posted today, tomorrow, some time this week, in between shoveling out the disaster that is my home. You all rock. I'm going to keep the PO box going for the rest of the year. If anyone has any great urge to knit hats, scarves or washcloths, the shelters appreciate any and all donations.
The work situation still blows rabid wombats and I'm actively looking elsewhere for work. If anyone wants to hire a foul-mouthed middle-aged woman with no discernible skills, drop me a line. Oh yeah, and apparently I dress like a colour-blind whore and I want a lot of money, too. (the harsh assessment of my ability to dress myself comes from me, and not from my employer. but really -- a tight apple-green tank top over a black bra, covered by a magenta/turquoise/black plaid wool shirt? i'm pretty sure i'm not front office material)
The comment on my birthday post was about Jello fights, as in wrestling in Jello, not Jello Shots, which seems to be mixing alcohol with jello and then drinking it. I'm pretty much a beer gal myself; I can't even begin to imagine the hangover after 8-10 pints of Watermelon Jello and Malibu (which is what was called for in the one recipe I was actually able to stomach reading).
The house inspection people are actually required to do so to make sure that I'm not running a grow op or a meth lab, so it's not their fault. And really, I'm ok with it because I'm going to make them go down in the crawlspace and check on a couple of things for me. I'll insist it ain't "inspected" until they've been under the house. and at least they gave me almost two weeks' notice, so i've got time to hide the grow op and the meth lab. (this is a joke please do not arrest me okbye)
And now, some product reviews. Please remember that these opinions are mine which belong to me. You may differ -- and you don't even have to beg.
Clover Circular Needles: I only wish I could say that these needles suck, but that would be an insult to sucking. The joins feel like they've been secured with lumps of polyfilla and the cord is so stiff I could likely poke someone's eye out with it. These needles, alas, do not suck. They only wish they could be that good one day. I gave them to a friend so i guess I'm not a very good friend at all, am I? (and on the other hand, their dpns are just fine).
The Ratnoisemakers: After Mister Rat #3 decided not to go gentle into that good night (really, it wasn't so nice) I bought three of these for $25cdn. They cover 400 (unobstructed) square feet each. My house is way bigger than 1200 square feet (I like boasting, apparently) but I put one in the living room, one in my studio, and one in my daughter's bedroom. I heard a rat in the wall, I moved the one in her bedroom from one wall to the one closer to where the rats were getting in (why yes, I am a college graduate, thank you for noticing) and he ran like hell. I heard him in there twice more, I think. Not a noise for 10 days or more and not a single rat has appeared on this side of the wall since I plugged those puppies in. So far they seem to be working like a charm. Highly recommended.
Spin to Knit by Shannon Okey: I won this book in a contest and I have to say that at first I was delighted. (For everyone who likes Ms. Okey and is groaning and squishing their eyes closed at the ominous "at first", relax. I'm not going to dis her. Although her proof-reader was clearly a little hosed. I was quite startled.) It's a nice, easy read and there are a lot of good tips in it -- I'll believe I'll refer to it fairly often. It clearly says it's a knitter's guide and so I shouldn't have been disappointed that as a spinner I found it to be less in-depth than I would have liked, but yet again I'm looking the gift-horse in the mouth like the ungrateful wretch that I am. The second half of the book is patterns and I know that patterns are all a matter of taste, but I have to say that there is only one that I would possibly make, one that made me laugh and which I might make if the drugs kick in some time soon, and several that I'm pretty sure made the Baby Jesus cry. If you're a knitter playing with the idea of spinning it's a good resource, but although I'm pleased to have this book in my collection, I doubt that it's something I would have purchased.
I Am Charlotte Simmons by Tom Wolfe: I got this as a Christmas gift and I was thrilled, as I had really enjoyed The Bonfire of the Vanities and have read it a couple of times. This book is quite another story (if you'll pardon the pun). There comes a time in some writers' lives when they have written their best work and should really lay the pen down and not do it again. This point, alas, seems to have been reached some time before Mr. Wolfe decided to pen this unfortunate tome. Some time around page 400 (or was it 500? Or even 600? I mean get a grip, someone already wrote War and Peace) I realized that far from the IMNSHO brilliant social commentary of Bonfire, this slow-paced, embarrassing behemoth was more a paen to the author's unfortunate preoccupation with adolescent coochie. Good dose of racism and misogyny tossed in there too. At points I wondered if the author had ever actually met a woman and, if so, if she had maybe kicked him in the nuts or something. It would certainly explain a lot. Its one redeeming feature is that if the ratnoisemakers fail at any point, it's hefty enough to beat them to death with it, and I would feel no regret at disposing of it along with the rat.
I think housework makes me cranky. I'll go do a couple more hours before work, shall I? Yes, I thought that was a good plan.
final note: All typos, clichés and overused phrases were on purpose this month. Really. With this post the contest is now officially over. Send me an email at bunniegirl at shaw dot ca by midnight on Monday, February 5 with a list of all of the horrible transgressions I've made this month, starting with my post on January 4, and I'll dig some fun stuff out of my stash for some prizes, k?
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Tagged by Dharma
Dharma tagged me for a meme today and the world is a better place for it, as I seem to be swimming about in a slimy green puddle of cranky today and really you just don't want to hear the thoughts that are falling out of my head right now.
OK, so, five things you probably don't know about me:
1. I used to live in an animal hospital. I had a room and a kitchen of my own but I took my baths in the dogbath in the middle of the big room full of cages with all of the cats and dogs watching me.
2. I used to play the flute. I sucked at it. Which is sort of a pity when you think about it, because you're supposed to blow.
3. The smell of lavender, which is supposed to be relaxing and calming and such, gets me angry.
4. I like doing laundry. It is quite possibly the only household task at which I am not completely incompetent (apart from cooking, which I'm fairly decent at, but I consider that a privilege rather than a task).
5. I sometimes write poetry. There's a good chance it sucks.
There. And I'm supposed to tag five people but I've already tagged so many people for so many things I think that I'll get strangled if I do so again. So, um, do it if you feel like it.
Saturday, January 27, 2007
At Least My Vagina Didn't Fall Out
It's been a tough week round about these parts. I've had too much to do, not enough sleep, and I got a notice of rent increase (not big, just big enough to eat all of the small raise I'm getting in April plus about $10).
The brakes on the car are doing something weird (like not braking), it's drinking oil faster than I drink beer, a day that was really important to me and that I had asked for as vacation got turned down and I also received a notice of inspection, meaning that I have to clear up the entire house -- including the insane studio and the obscene guest room -- within the next two weeks while the two other occupants of the house follow me devotedly around, re-messing everything in my wake.
Oh yes, and I think there's another rat in the walls, but at least the ratnoisemaker things are working and he's not coming into the house.
The week I've had, however, pales in comparison to that of a friend of mine who announced to me "Hey! My vagina fell out!" Seems that after a hysterectomy, vaginal prolapse, although not common, can occur. And really, that pretty much tops everything up to and including the rat in the walls. (there are mitigating circumstances that make it even worse but those details belong to my friend to tell, not to me.) Ever since that announcement, another friend and I have been using that as the benchmark by which to measure unfortunate occurrences in our lives, the vagina-falling-out bit being at the "bad" end of the scale.
So yeah, it's been a tough week.
But at least my vagina didn't fall out.
going to check ...
Friday, January 26, 2007
Address To Yesterday's Haggis
Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face
Great chieftain o' the Puddin-race!
Aboon them a' ye tak your place,
Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye worthy of a grace
As lang's my arm.
The groaning trencher there ye fill,
Your hurdies like a distant hill,
Your pin wad help to mend a mill
In time o' need,
While thro' your pores the dews distil
Like amber bead.
His knife see Rustic-labour dight,
An' cut you up wi' ready slight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright
Like onie ditch;
And then, O what a glorious sight,
Warm-reekin, rich!
Then, horn for horn they stretch an' strive,
Deil tak the hindmost, on they drive,
Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve
Are bent like drums;
Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive,
'Bethankit' hums.
Is there that owre his French ragout
Or olio that wad stow a sow,
Or fricasee wad mak her spew
Wi' perfect sconner
Looks down wi' sneering, scornfu' view
On sic a dinner?
Poor devil! See him owre his trash,
As feckless as a wither'd rash,
His spindle shank a guid whip-lash,
His nieve a nit;
Thro' bluidy flood or field to dash,
O how unfit!
But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,
The trembling earth resounds his tread,
Clap in his walie nieve a blade,
He'll mak it whissle;
An' legs, an' arms, an' heads will sned,
Like taps o' thrissle.
Ye Pow'rs wha mak mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill o' fare,
Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware,
That jaups in luggies;
But, if ye wish her gratefu' prayer,
Gie her a Haggis!
I believe you may be able to actually hear that here
Happy Burns' Day. A day late. I was busy and missed it.
And no, there are no errors in this post. It's a freebie, and a'.
Gang yersel'.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Getting Eddicated
I spent most of my "down time" at work last night eagerly perusing my weaving book. It's the book that someone recommended in the comments -- that, most fortuitously, is the book that was sent to me with my first loom (yes, I have a problem but at least I'm not on crack. Much.) and it seems to be well-written and thorough.
And horrifying. Because it's fascinating and I have to start doing this 18 hours a day and, you know, I just don't have time to work any more and I can't make a living doing this fiber thing unless I start tripling my prices which would be unfair and stupid, so um. Yes.
Obsessive much? So kind of you to notice.
I'm heading back to work right now, hopefully to a quiet night so I can read more. And figure out how I can divorce Ben and marry for money so I don't have to work any more even though I'm too old to be a trophy wife and the thought of ever marrying again is disgusting anyhow.
I'm doomed.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Yarn Porn
I'm running out the door to work, but seeing you're all panting for some yarn porn, here is 900 metres of something yummy (I think it's called Ottawa) by Handmaiden. It's supposed to be a kit for a skirt but people with butts like mine shouldn't wear knitted skirts, so it's destined to be some sort of wrap or cardigan or something. A wrap I think.
And this is 50 grams of cashmere, again from Handmaiden. I don't know how long it is but really, seeing I plan on wearing it in my bra until the day I die, does it matter? The photo hardly does it justice. I could eat this.
And that's all the porn that's fit to print Chéz Lapin today.
And this is 50 grams of cashmere, again from Handmaiden. I don't know how long it is but really, seeing I plan on wearing it in my bra until the day I die, does it matter? The photo hardly does it justice. I could eat this.
And that's all the porn that's fit to print Chéz Lapin today.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
And That, Your Honour, Is Why I Killed Her
Mid-week posting madness here as work angst plus a little-more-than-normal juggling of the childcare (hubby has to write a paper this week) has left me somewhat more frazzled than usual.
Yes, I know. Shut up.
So today, I tried to get over to Birkeland Brothers to return my swift, seeing my girlfriend-in-law had given me one (plus a ball-winder) when she sold me my new loom. (note: i tried to figure out the relationship. she's my brother's boyfriend's sister. girlfriend-in-law seemed appropriate. desperate times call for deviant definitions.). I got there at what I thought was 5:25, only to find them locking up for the day. Not an unreasonable act for a store that closes at 5:30, and really it was a wet and stinking day (with utterly vile traffic, which is why I didn't make it there earlier), and my clock could well be wrong however it chewed up a huge chunk of my afternoon. Time I could have spent winding wool, dyeing wool, spinning ... maybe even sleeping (or trying to figure out how to warp that loom which has me completely intimidated). I was going to exchange the swift for a bunch of wool they have there, too; the worsted weight that I like dyeing so much. I got all pissed about that until I realized that I have anywhere from 1500-1800 yards of it sitting here undyed. Plus the sockweight, the laceweight, the Aran and the "so bulky there isn't a word for it". And seeing there isn't a hope in hell of me getting to sleep more than a couple of hours tomorrow, we can go back there again after Herself is out of school. They said they'd hold it for me.
So I calmed down pretty quickly, but it was still a 50-km round trip, a bunch of time and some gas I didn't want to waste. Needless to say I was almost completely without gruntle by the time we arrived home.
We got here, oh, 6:20-ish (which tells you exactly what the traffic was like) and I figured it was time to eat dinner, seeing I hadn't had breakfast or lunch. This may have added to my crankiness but with my work schedule, choosing sleep is usually the wiser course. I eat most of my meals between 10pm and 3am.
La Principessa and I had discussed at length what she would like for dinner. It had, in fact, been the main topic of conversation for the greater portion of the ride home. When I got the pots and pans out, I confirmed with her before starting that she wanted noodles. Not being in the mood to drown my sorrows in nothing but noodles but also not being in the mood to cook much of anything, I elected for a grilled cheese sandwich for myself.
Her: What are you making?
Me: A grilled cheese sandwich.
Her: Oh, I like those.
Me: I thought you wanted noodles for dinner? You said to me a couple of weeks back that you didn't like having grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner because it was "lunch food".
Her: (indignantly) I didn't like it That. One. Night! I like grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner now!
Me: (patiently) OK, I can make you one.
(starts preparations)
Her: What are you making?
Me: A grilled cheese sandwich for you.
Her: I don't want one. I told you I wanted noodles.
No jury would convict.
I'm going to play with wool and do some laundry before work. It'll keep my hands from creeping around her cute little neck.
oh, and the birthday stash enhancement involves the Handmaiden and some cashmere. it may be worth checking to see tomorrow if i've managed to get my camera to cooperate. i'm just sayin'
Sunday, January 21, 2007
Call Me Ma'am
Well, here we are at yet another celebration of my natal day.
Today finds me considerably older than yesterday (a whole year!) but apparently little wiser, which suits me just fine.
Luckier? Yes. Much, much luckier.
I was going to get mushy and wax on about how much the friendships I've made through this here blogthing have enriched my life and bla bla bla I love all of you but you just know I'd forget to link to someone and then they'd get all miffed and there would be Jello fights in the parking lot and ... oh, hey. There's a thought! But no. I'll show a little restraint for once.
Forty-five years. It's been a wild ride. And I'll take another 45 if FSM's willing. Or, you know, if my liver holds out that long.
Thank you so much to everyone who reads this. You rock.
tomorrow: i admit my yarn-related birthday transgressions and wax poetic about my new loom. and swift. and ball-winder. and such
Friday, January 19, 2007
The Terrible Stash
I'm utterly horrified by the amount of fibre I have here. I hadn't really thought about it, but in the last two months ...
December:
Knat 6 dishcloths for co-workers. Gave another friend 3 balls of cotton for her sister for Xmoose. Gave my mother four balls of cottong for xmoose.
Gave 15 or so balls of yarn to a lady who makes hats for the Downtown Eastside people. Gave 2 balls to E for her knitting machine. Made a pair of dorm boots for mum, some mittens, etc -- so 2 or 3 balls there.
32/33 total balls of yarn down
January:
Knat 1 cotton washcloth for me. Used 2 balls for hats for Josette. Donated 25 balls to the Girl Guides and another 12 balls to the hat lady. 4 balls of something to a friend.
44 down, for a total of 76/77 balls.
And it hasn't made one jot of difference.
Now, a lot of this yarn here isn't "my" stash, the stuff that went to the hat lady and the Girl Guides was stuff that was donated for the charity thingie I do (and which I am stopping doing very soon). Some of it (the GG stuff) was appropriate for that project and they'll be using it for that, some of it wasn't which is why it went to the hat lady.
But really. REALLY, people.
So I'm not going to buy anything for my birthday. I was going to go all mental and get some Manos and some Sea Silk but I'm going to step up to the plate and be mature and pay the gas bill instead.
Although I am getting that swift. And um, I may have bought another loom.
Oops.
Thursday, January 18, 2007
What I Did On My Five-Hour Vacation
I dyed wool of course. Wouldn't anyone?
Four skeins, two at 200 yards, one at 145 yards and one at 150 (let's just call them both 145 'cause you know I'm not going to measure them again and they got all mixed up in the dyeing. Border Leicester/Corriedale cross, grown, spun and dyed in B.C. I don't know where the dyes were made and I'm too lazy to go and check (Ciba Acid Dyes if you really need to know) but that sounds pretty homegrown to me.
Once it's dry it'll be for sale at $13.50 for the 200-yard skeins and $9.75 for each of the two others, plus postage.
Oh dear sweet FSM, I just did math. I'm going to have to go lie down now for a bit.
Four skeins, two at 200 yards, one at 145 yards and one at 150 (let's just call them both 145 'cause you know I'm not going to measure them again and they got all mixed up in the dyeing. Border Leicester/Corriedale cross, grown, spun and dyed in B.C. I don't know where the dyes were made and I'm too lazy to go and check (Ciba Acid Dyes if you really need to know) but that sounds pretty homegrown to me.
Once it's dry it'll be for sale at $13.50 for the 200-yard skeins and $9.75 for each of the two others, plus postage.
Oh dear sweet FSM, I just did math. I'm going to have to go lie down now for a bit.
Crazy Wool
OK, so I finally took some photos and here is a picture of "Blatant Violation", dyed by me a couple of days ago. It's chunky, it's soft, and it's bright as hell -- the stuff that shows blue in the picture is actually a deep purple and the "pink" is bright coral.
I've got 5 100-yard skeins at $20 and 3 50-yard ones at $10 (plus postage) and if I can ever get my lazy ass organized I'll put it on the clickything at the side. If you are interested before that let me know.
edit: as the very astute Helen pointed out, the smaller skeins are, in fact, 50 yards, not five. um, yeah, it's nice wool (it's from New Zealand, I don't think I mentioned that) and very very soft but not worth anywhere near $2 a yard. thank you Helen!
I've got 5 100-yard skeins at $20 and 3 50-yard ones at $10 (plus postage) and if I can ever get my lazy ass organized I'll put it on the clickything at the side. If you are interested before that let me know.
edit: as the very astute Helen pointed out, the smaller skeins are, in fact, 50 yards, not five. um, yeah, it's nice wool (it's from New Zealand, I don't think I mentioned that) and very very soft but not worth anywhere near $2 a yard. thank you Helen!
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Taking Ass and Kicking Names
I'm back up on my feet again. The ennui, angst, weltschmertz, schadenfreude and haasenpfeffer that was dogging me yesterday seems to have been pushed firmly back into place.
Which is good, because it sucks to feel that bad.
I chalk it up to being in mourning for the 300th anniversary of the legislative union between Scotland and The People Who Inhabit The Lower Half of Our Island.
*spit*
I wouldn't have a problem with it if it weren't for the whole oppression thingie. Oh, and stealing shit and making us suck up to the German royalty but you know, I don't really have an opinion about it.
(all comments bashing me for rampant Scottish Nationalism will be deleted. This blog is not a democracy. And if you're in the UK you should be used to that by now.)
So hey, back to wool. I went to work last night and had a fun time and then came home and cooked up a batch of stuff for Stephanie's Knitters Without Borders dealie (450 yards of worsted weight corriedale/border leicester cross; grown, spun and dyed --aubergine -- in BC) and a pile of sock yarn that will either be gorgeous or pathetic; we'll find out tomorrow when it's dry enough to mess about with. So far it seems to be ranging from really really dark red to claret but it'll lighten up after it's dried. It was not meant to be varigated and if it's total ass I'll overdye it tomorrow and we will never speak of this again.
I'm heading to bed now, I have to work again tonight. Just wanted to let you know that a) I'm feeling much better now and b) I think the bruise on my leg may resemble Lithuania.
Oh, and you MUST all go see this video. It is not even marginally work-safe or child-safe. It was sent to me by LaLa in a politically-incorrect but completely successful attempt to cheer me up.
I have my first guitar lesson on Saturday. She's requested that I learn that song.
I sorta think I could pull it off.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Blogger Down!
No, Blogger itself isn't down, I am.
I don't know if it's the fact that my face still hurts (not badly but enough to make me pissy), my house is a mess, I'm dealing with a whole lotta hassles not of my own making (and being penalized while being without fault), the fact that my stomach was too upset for me to go into work last night (and my brain is still too upset to go in today, if the truth be told, but I'm going anyhow), the fact that my hypothetical "to do" list is so long that I'm totally immobilized and can't even MAKE the list or the fact that I'm knitting a 420-stitch mitred square blanket in acrylic (only my daughter could make me do this) but I'm definitely in a mire of quags over here.
It could be the impending birthday, but numbers don't bother me so it's unlikely to be that. It could be the S of PM but I don't speak of such bodily functions here (that's what LiveJournal is for, and really if you start talking about that, how long is it until you start keeping a poop journal or something?) it could be any of a number of things, but no matter what's caused it, I'm definitely on the dark side of perky here.
the observant may note that the dead rat count has reached four. i feel like a bit of an ass and humbly prostate myself in front of all those who implied that they travel in packs. apparently this is so, although i have found no more poop and heard no more scurryings for the last day and a half, so perhaps the assault is over
It could possibly even be the fact that my husband is looking at changing his work schedule and if so he will likely be going back to days. This would solve many of our financial and scheduling-related problems, however it adds the problem of needing another adult in the house four mornings a week from 5:45 to 6:30am. I believe that the only solution to this is to see if a college student wants to come and stay here and in return for a free room (and heat, light, hot water, laundry and internet access) be the third adult. Not a bad deal, really; 12 hours a month of work (while sleeping) plus perhaps one or two nights of babysitting a month so we can go out, and a little light housekeeping in return for not paying rent. The problem is that despite my ramblings here, I'm actually a very private person and the thought of having someone else in my house (coupled with the thought of having to take all of my crap out of that room) horrifies me.
Bah.
Anyhow, no tripping of the light fantastic or amusing falling-in-the-snow accidents here today. Just doom and gloom. Several other bloggers seem to be experiencing the same feelings of angst/ennui/buckets of shit, so maybe there's something in the air.
Or, you know, I could just be a great big loser with a messy house. I don't know what their excuse is.
Stay tuned; it's gotta get better.
Sunday, January 14, 2007
Blrph
Well I'd just love to be witty but the front of my head still feels like someone took a couple of swings with a bat or something (and unfortunately may not be a lot more attractive than that) and because a Certain Small Tangle-Haired Pain In The Ass (heretofore referred to as Her Surreal Highness) wouldn't let me nap before work I'm unable to take any ibuprofen for it (zonks me out, and I was tired to start with) so yeah, that's not happening.
I had a good visit this afternoon with Heather, during which I got to show off the cable cast-on and knitting in the round, and then toddled out to pick up two (delicious!) prizes for the hat challenge from Karen (who I insisted on calling Nancy. She graciously refrained from poking me in the nose, which, in my condition is fortunate). Oh yes, and I fell down in the snow again, this time trashing my right leg. Another bruise but we'll have to wait a day or so and see if it resembles a country again.
So anyhow, I have little to offer in this witless condition, but I did want to remind everyone that seeing Farm Witch is so relentlessly, charmingly scattered, there is still a little time left to Knit for the Kidlets. I have one little turquoise hat done already (Scheepjeswol) and cast on a pink one today which I anticipate finishing in a couple more hours.
There will be hilarity, inappropriate photographs of damage to body parts and relentless, nauseating do-gooding in a future post. For now, I think I'm just going to attempt to knit without poking my eye out or something.
Saturday, January 13, 2007
In Which I Discover A Problem
Oh dudes, four and a half hours with my mouth wide open while some guy shoves pointy things in there, breaks several teeth, rebuilds said teeth and then sends me home with a pat on my pointy noggin and a large dental bill (my insurance will pay about half) and not even a new toothbrush to show for it.
It is to weep.
And then I got home, set the trap and went to bed, only to wake up this morning to a tripped trap and no ratparts. I'll try it again later today when I go to The Wal-Mart to get
And so now for the problem. As y'all know I've been going to the dentist a lot lately, partially because my teeth are complete and utter hell and need to be fixed (thanks to years of dentalphobia and thin enamel plus high sensitivity and, apparently, nerves that grew far closer than expected to the surface of the tooth which explains a few things but I digress.) and partially because I have kick-ass dental insurance and the dentalphobia is gone and I might as well get all prettied up just in case I have to appear in public without a bag on my head any time soon. And so I've been making my appointments generally on a Friday morning. That's the time the dentist's office is most likely to have a vacancy, and also too, well ... there's the daytime TeeVee.
I have never ever watched much in the way of TV. It's boring, it's stupid, everyone on the screen is thinner than me. You know, the usual.
But my dentist has a TV on the ceiling of every treatment room and apparently in the last couple of months I have become some sort of daytime TV junkie. There are AMAZING shows on ... Canada's Worst Handyman! Man, why did nobody tell me about this? It relieves the pain a whole lot (trust me on this one) to watch some total boob try to cut an entire floor's worth of vinyl covering, make a small cut and then just rip (he had enough left for a placemat, really) and then some other person cut the vinyl properly, only to place the flooring in the bathtub, spread glue over the entire floor and then stand in the doorway, forlornly peering at the vinyl in the tub, way on the other side of the room (he rescued it with a broom handle and ended up doing a half-way passable job).
I also really love whatever show it is ... I forget the name, but it should be called "Aren't You Embarrassed To Be Such a Skank?" I mean really, they go into these people's houses and take pictures and then clear it up and organize it for them. Now, I hate being judgemental here (that's clearly a lie) but in many cases these people either have no children, or have at least one stay-at-home parent. Um, how much effort does it take to put the newspaper in the recycling bin after you read it? There is NO NEED for a table piled three feet deep with crap. And believe me, if there was a need I would know about it, 'cause I'm the messiest most disorganized person on earth. I may even be borderline filthy and a total packrat if the truth be told.
Yesterday, however, after watching a show called (I think) "Don't You Maybe Think That All The Potato Chips Are What Made Your Ass So Big?" in which some skinny woman with an unhealthy interest in her victims' love lives points out to them that if they ate fewer potato chips and maybe walked or ran or, you know, got off their asses they'd get thinner, I found the country music channel.
I watched it, completely enthralled, for at least three of the hours I was there. I was so involved that I don't even know at what point they broke my teeth and replaced them with a row of bright red rubber clown-noses (this is untrue but it feels like it today). I've deccided that I would like Keith Urban and Montgomery Gentry for my birthday. There was some big guy named Tim something that you could throw in the package too. That would be fine, thanks so much.
No, not the CDs. The people. I'm not usually all about the boys so I'll send them back pretty quick but yeah, I wouldn't mind those for a week or so. Thanks in Advance.
I can't wait until my next dental appointment! (the 26th for anyone who is wondering).
note: this may be one of the signs of the apocalypso. run while you still can.
Friday, January 12, 2007
Rats, Bats and Cats
Yes, it looks like I have another rat. I'll buy another (possibly several) trap on the way home from the four-to-five hours I'm spending in the dentist's chair this morning.
So, my apologies to anyone I pissed off by insisting I didn't have another. I truly don't think there's a nest of 'em anywhere but clearly they've figured out how to get into the house. I'll be running around the house with wood and a hammer and stuff (possibly also nails, ya think?) later today, looking for the holes.
And Anonymous, thank you so much for reminding me that I used to have "so many" cats (I had two when you knew me). Especially after I've posted that I'm still completely torn up about losing the four I had last year.
There's only one person I worked with at that time who would have posted that, so yes, I know who you are now. Thought it was going to be a little more difficult than that.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Silk Stalkings
Well, it would seem that my karma just ran over my dogma and all that.
I just had the event that I'd been expecting for years, occur. Someone from my past just inserted themselves into my present.
I hope you're still reading this whoever you are.
The Only and the shoes. That tells me you know me. Man, I used to have a lot of good shoes.
Drop me a line at bunniegirl at shaw dot ca won't you?
And now, a rat just ran over my foot ...aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhii
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
In Which I Lye Some More
Thank you, Anonymous, for pointing out my misspelling yesterday. There's a contest going on. And you are a bit of a
And also seeing I don't know who you are 'cause you didn't post under a name and all.
Anyhow, I said there would be hat pictures and prizes today and clearly I lied because there's nothing of the sort. I've been fighting some sort of cold/resp. thingie plus some vague GI irritation (I think it's called post-Christmasitis, or maybe even "I'm knitting something on US1 needle-itis but whatever). I got home about 6:45 this morning (it's snowing), lay there for half an hour trying to decide if I wanted to barf or if I was just tired, slept for an hour and got up, realized there was in fact MORE snow and my car wouldn't make it up the hill to my kid's school, called her in absent due to snow and then went back to bed. And apart from brief awakenings by the sprog for such important things as finding mittens (oops, I was supposed to knit another one when her second one went missing!) and a delivery of a birthday card from Ann (thank you!) I just passed out for another eleven hours. So, um, I guess for the knit-pickers amongst us I actually slept 12 hours but anyhow. Whatever. I slept.
A lot.
And now I'm going to work so there will be no pictures of the three FOs for the year, but I'll add soemthing to the sidebar anyhow.
And maybe you'll get pictures of something tomorrow.
and for the people who asked why I'm not using Blogger to post, it won't work for me. it's not working like a dream, it isn't easier than flickr, and rebooting makes no difference. so yeah, there will be a little formatting fuckery until i buy my own domain later in the year but everyone will just have to put on their big girl pants and deal with a lack of perfection, although i know perfection is exactly what you've come to expect from me in the last two and a half years.
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Blogger Nonsense
Yeah, I switched to the new Blogger and it still hates my ass. It's something about the Picasa dealie but anyhow I can't figure it out; a) because i don't really care that much and b) because I'm here for cute, not for smart.
So I opened a Flickr account and now I just have to figure out how to post here from there.
Oh. Dude. That was easy. Viola, feast your eyes on my Christmas Turkey Pie.
And now I'm going to sleep for an hour before going to The Dungeons of Zatar or wherever the hell it is I'm working these days (can you tell there are work issues? I'm startled -- I'm usually so subtle.)
And now I actually know what I'm doing, there will be hatstuff tomorrow. There have been more arrivals. Lots more. Like another 30 or something.
And there are more prizes 'cause y'all rock pretty damned hard. It's going to snow tonight. I'm going to take photos before I head out because I suspect there will be a sack or two of hats that may make it to one of the shelters on the way in to work tonight.
Monday, January 08, 2007
Back to Norma(l)
Well, normal for us. Which is to say not at all, really, except that the kid is in school again so now I can get a little sleep during the day. This will in no way make my posting more coherent.
note: while i appreciate everyone's concern regarding the rodents, please do not tell me there are more. there is no evidence of same. no faces peering down from high shelves (rats have startlingly small heads, i mistook the rat for a mouse), no faeces, no scrabbling, etc. etc. if another one shows up i will kill that one also but for the time being i'm not going on a
So I dyed tons and tons of wool last night. I think about 670 yards. I'm pretty sure that my Colourway Consultant and I decided to call it "Blatant Violation", but it was like 4am or something and really it's all just a little vague. The name fits, though, so we'll go with that.
It's bright. I'm going to see if Blogger will let me upload a picture ...
Why no! No, it won't. I love Blogger so much (ASSMUPPETS) so you'll just have to take my word for it that if you like purple/coral/gold/mustard as a colour combination you'll love this yarn. Well crap, if I'm going to sell it I'll have to find a way to put up a picture anyhow. It should be dry tomorrow or Wednesday and I'll link off the clickything on the sidebar.
I'm heading to work shortly, having worked out a very unpleasant and uncomfortable childcare arrangement with
Or both, really, if that's what tickles your fancy.
Sunday, January 07, 2007
Killing and Dy(e)ing
My post titles are getting cornier by the day. The minute, even. And yet, I feel no shame.
Mister Rat (who turned out not to be a mouse but instead a rather large rat) is dead. Very, very dead. I killed him with a trap, and although I feel some remorse for the actual slaughter, it was fast.
Well, I killed him twice, actually, but the first time he didn't notice.
I went out and bought a rat trap (just in case it really WAS a rat and not a mouse, as I had been hoping) and bated it with peanut butter. I went out and when I returned there was the trap, unsprung, but completely denuded of the aforementioned vile peanut-based spread. (Chunky, in case you're wondering what the discerning rat is reqesting these days. Although I don't know if he would request this again, as it gave him a hell of a headache.)
Anyhow, I was both horrified (I had to touch RAT SPIT to re-bait the trap! OK, I wore gloves but whatevah.) and pleased. At least he would be stupid enough to trust the trap the second time, and he was also going to meet his maker on a full belly. It gave me a small amount of comfort, although I'll doubt it made a rat's-ass of difference to him in the end.
Because you see, after baiting the trap for the second time, and going out yet again, I returned to find him deceased, Deceased and no longer defecating in my home. So yeah, like I said, a small amount of remorse, however mostly what I feel is relief, especially after I saw the size of that sucker.
I'm so dreadfully lame that the first thing I thought when I saw him ... well, no, the first thing was "ick, rat brains!" and then the second thing was "and dude, I have to go past him to get my camera. There won't be photos with this post." I mean really, would someone with even a shred of decency have thought that? (Apart from you. You're exempt. You know who you are.)
I thought not. Apparently I'm the antichrist or something.
As punishment I'm spending the rest of the night dyeing some beautiful Lopi-style wool (but not scratchy!) I got from New Zealand. Yes, it's a terrible terrible punishment. (Chunky, thick-and-thin so possibly handspun. I don't know the content. It'll be varigated ... red, yellow and either purple or blue. Or bluey purple.)
There may be beer, also.
And even though there will be no pictures of ratbrains, there likely will be pictures of wool if Blogger ever gets over it's photograph-loading-up issues.
still coming: the first two FOs of 2007, really!
I Am Sofaking, Stupid!
Sometimes I think there's really something wrong with me. I mean, apart from the obvious.
I was busy washing dishes and putting them away, all the time thinking about the rodent whose demise will occur later today, and as I was putting the plates in the cupboard I thought "Oh, I wonder if it's hungry", and I went to get a bowl of cheerios for it.
Um. Dude. I'm sending my kid out for a playdate in a few hours so that I can clear out the studio and kill the rodent.
a) of course its hungry, I've confined it to the studio for the last day and unless it's been out to get food it's starving, and
b) it's not a pet. This is something I shouldn't be feeding. I'm going to kill it and even though I've been running a thousand catch and release scenarios through my mind over the last day or so I think we all know how it's going to turn out.
I sometimes wonder if I should actually be allowed to live without closely supervised care.
Saturday, January 06, 2007
We Have a Confirmed Visual Sighting of The Enemy
The enemy with which, fortunately, we were not sleeping, despite the pretzels.
I got home from work late this morning at 6:45 or so, due to My Evil COWorker's 8-minute tardiness (please note, he's sick as a dog and should not be chastized for this. He was too busy barfing to get there any earlier and the fact that he showed up at all makes him a candidate for sainthood. I'm just being a bitch 'cause he reads this blog and if I'm too nice to him he'll think he's terminal or something).
Anyhow, I usually stay up for a bit after I get home from work (a bit of what? you may well ask. I'm not telling. Perverts), but knowing that I had to get Her Surreal Highness out of bed and prettified later this morning for her trip to the pantomime with her grandparents, I decided to go to bed right away. The extreme exhaustion also weighed fairly heavily in the making of that decision, but I digress.
I couldn't for the life of me get to sleep for an hour or more. Must have fallen asleep, oh, 8-ish, only to be awakened at 9:15 by a distinct, unmistakeable gnawing sound. The Giant Rat-Bastard was outside the bedroom door, trying to gnaw his way in!
Fortunately I had placed my daughter's very own Rock Star Fake Fold-Up Directors Chair up against the door, thereby rendering it unopenable by a rat, even one as large as my husband claimed this one to be. (The size of both of his fists, he said with relish, when describing the intruder to me over the phone.)
I tried to go back to sleep, but knew I would never be successful while He Who Would Gnaw My Face In My Sleep And Possibly Also Poop In The Merino lurked mere inches away, no matter how thwarted in his desire to break down the bedroom door and perform a facectomy. I grabed a Rubbermaid tub (everyone knows that the rat's only natural enemy is the Rubbermaid tub), put on some shoes, and set out on my brave quest to bring the beast to its knees, without having it bite mine.
I digress, yet again, to mention that I don't really have "normal" pajamas. Anyone who knows me or has read even one of my posts will find this startling as I'm usually so conventional and organized, but there you go.
So picture, if you will, a middle-aged woman in a green tartan flannel shortie nightshirt (with long sleeves ... why would anyone make a stupidly short nightshirt with long sleeves? The world never ceases to mystify me). Um, where was I? Oh yes, this sack-like yet startlingly sexy nightshirt, some boxer briefs that I think I might have bought for my husband but that didn't fit him so I snagged them for my own and some sturdy black walking shoes. Sans socks. Waving a Rubbermaid tub fearlessly about. Oh yes, and I had a broom in my other hand. You know, just in case.
I slunk into the foyer outside my studio (it's really sort of a small hallway with an unfinished cupboard, an un-hooked-up laundry sink and some boxes of stuff dumped in it, but if you give anything a French name it sounds sexier, so "foyer" it is) and looked about for the ravening beast. A scuttling noise from above my head made me look up sharply, only to be confronted by a small (very small) black face peering nervously down from the top shelf of the cupboard. The owner of said face made a very hasty retreat, and in fact did so in such a manner as to make me think "well, if there wasn't mousepoop on that shelf before, there is now."
That's right. The Great Face-Gnawer of Aught Seven is one small black mouse. A few inches long, and more frightened of me than I was of it.
Giant rat, my arse.
I went back to bed. I'm certainly not thrilled about having a mouse around, but really. Dude. I had to work again this afternoon, and another hour's sleep was far more important than a little mouse-slaughter.
I'll think about it tomorrow. After all, tomorrow's another day.
next: i proudly display the first two finished objects of 2007 if blogger will let me post photographs.
Friday, January 05, 2007
Rats!
No really. Rats.
I think there is a rat in my house.
I was at work last night, as always, when I got a phone call from my Dearly Beloved.
Him: Oh, hi, bla bla bla something.
Me: Well I'm just sitting here saving the world but I'm so glad you called. I guess you got my message?
Him: Uh, no, I didn't check the machine.
Me: OK, well, bla bla things. I guess you just called to say hi?
Him: Yes. Oh, and um, to tell you I saw something sort of in the corner of the living room and I think it's a rat.
Me: Oh god, I hope it didn't go poop in my wool. I'm pretty sure I heard scrabbling a day or so ago. At least we know what and where it is now. That's what you get for living in the woods in a house with holes in it. So, um, what did you do about it?
Him: Well, I called to tell you. I thought you should know.
Me: Yes, and now I know. And what did you do about it?
Him: I called you.
Me: I see. And what are you going to do now?
Him: Well I thought I'd go to sleep.
Me: Well. Uh, thanks. Sleep well. Make sure all of the doors are closed so it can't get into my studio again, or into any of the bedrooms and I'll see if I can find it and chase it out in the morning. If not I'll buy some rat poison later in the day but I'd really rather hit it with a shovel.*
Him: OK, good night.
My fucking hero.
So ... I get home at 7am (should have been 6:30 but it decided to snow last night, what joy) and all of the doors in the house are OPEN, not closed. So the rat (if it was a rat) may be here. It may have left (not likely, it's warm inside), it may be in any room of the house. It may in fact be gnawing on my child or pooping in my wool.
Oh yes, and besides all of the interior doors being open, there was an open bag of pretzels on the bed where I sleep. So not only am I going to be sleeping in a bed full of crumbs, I may well also be sleeping in a bed full of rat.
But it's all just fine. No really. Fine. I don't mind at all, carry on.
I shall be spending the next three days cleaning house, screaming (because I'm nowhere near as tough as I seem and I'm pretty sure I seem seriously un-tough to start with), hauling stuff to the dump and rat-hunting. Should I be unable to kill the little fucker by Monday then I'm calling for the exterminator. Dude, I hope it's not Arnie.
* please note, I am not a good Buddhist. Mainly because a) I'm not really a Buddhist although I flirted with it a bit about 16, 17 years ago and may well continue the flirtation some time soon, and b) I'm not convinced rats are sentient. Doesn't sentient mean self-aware? I'm pretty sure none of them have had their consciousnesses raised and all.
Gah.
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Duck and Grape Joke
Oh, all right, if you insist. Besides, it gets me off the hook for having to write a "real" post today. I'm getting it together but I've been teetering on the edge of a depression for a few days now. I think I've averted it but really I don't have a whole lot in the way of energy or resources at the moment.
So here goes just about my favourite joke:
A duck walks into a hardware store and says to the clerk "Got any grapes?"
The clerk says, patiently, "No, this is a hardware store, we don't have any grapes, try a grocery."
The duck leaves.
The next day the same duck walks into to the same hardware store and says to the clerk (who is, coincidentally, the same clerk) "Got any grapes?"
The clerk says, a little less patiently, "No! Like I told you yesterday, this is a hardware store, we don't sell grapes here."
The duck leaves.
The next day the duck walks into the store again and says to the clerk, "Got any grapes?"
By this time the clerk is thoroughly pissed off with the duck and says "No! We don't have any fucking grapes! This is a hardware store! If you come in here and ask me again I'm going to nail your fucking feet to the floor!"
The duck leaves.
The next day the duck walks into the hardware store and says to the clerk, "Got any nails?"
The clerk, relieved, says, "Finally! A sensable question! But no, I'm sorry, we're all out of nails, I just sold the last package."
And then the duck says, "Good. In that case ... got any grapes?"
I have no idea why this stupid joke sends me into little gigglesnorting fits of laughter every time. But it does.
There, are you happy now?
by the way, I am running a small contest here. At the end of January, send me an email to bunniegirl at shaw dot ca and tell me which cliché, misspelling or overused phrase I have employed in each post this month, starting with this one, in order to make Norma's head explode. I'll send something yummy to the first person to send all of the right answers. I don't think I can keep it up for a whole year but I'm pretty sure I can do it for a month.
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
New Year's Resolutions
1. Never answer the phone on New Year's Day. It may well be a co-worker calling, so sick she's actually puking, and you might have to go in to work, taking your child with you due to lack of childcare, and spend 5 hours in a very very hot room with a hyperactive six year old.
2. Never make lists of things I might want to blog about. I just found a list I made two years ago and apart from the duck and grape joke, the only item of interest was "They Don't Make Cars Worth Fucking In Any More". I have no idea what that was about, but I sure wish I'd written the post before I sobered up.
(and now for the real resolutions)
1. Knit more. Lots more. Even though I'll never be as prolific as Wendy or Ann, try to have at least one thing finished a week, even if it's only a hat or a washcloth.
6. Keep some of the knitting for myself. I need a hat. And a washcloth.
f. Do way less do-gooding. Except for Dulaan, because I'm going to try to make 50 things for them just to show that ol' MaryB that I can. I'm sort of falling apart. I may want to expend some of the do-gooding energy on myself.
9. Fall apart less.
pi. Walk 100 miles by April Fool's Day, just because Rachael said it was a good idea.
(). Get teeth fixed. Go to the doctor. Grow up and deal with stuff.
8. Get either a housekeeper or a divorce.
#. Get the house cleaned/organized to the point where I don't actually think I'd rather expire in the middle of the mess on the living room floor than call the paramedics and have people in my house.
11. Have people in my house.
&. Stick to knitting from stash. Unless I don't feel like it.
13. Travel more.
14. Use at least one cliché, overused phrase or misspelled word in every post, just to annoy Norma. It'll be fun. I'm just sayin'.
2204.6 Spin at least twice a week.
x. Reduce our debt by 25%.
That is all. Carry on.
Monday, January 01, 2007
Dammit, I Hate Blogger
I had here a picture of pie, for your edification, however it seems that Blogger won't let me post it.
Bah! Assbeagle
Anyhow, imagine a row of golden pies, entitled the "Oh Fuck Do We Still Have Turkey Left?" pies.
Chop up a bunch of white turkey. Then discover there is a whole casserole of dark turkey meat in the fridge also. Chop up some of that. Put it all in a big bowl.
Then take a hot frying pan, add a little olive oil, throw in about a quarter of an onion, sliced up fine. Then toss in a carrot, also sliced fine, and a chopped stick of celery. Look in the freezer and toss in whatever else you have (I had corn and peas), flip it about for a while.
Make some Béarnaise sauce (from a package, I'm not insane), toss the veggies in with the turkey, drown it all in sauce, wrap it up in phyllo dough (also purchased, see the note about insanity above), make it into packages, dab it with melted butter, put it in the oven at 350 for about 12 minutes.
Chow down.
Man, that was good, and I wish you could have seen the pictures. We may well have it again tomorrow.
