••• Sunday, December 12, 2004

Hanging Out My Dainties
For the record, my Best Buy undie-bacle was not my maidenhead public drawer drop. The slip shimmy happened once before, while I was walking down the hallway of an elementary school where I worked. That time I was immediately down with the slipshod and before you could say “under where?” the errant silk was successfully kicked to safety under the cloak hooks.

It appears that I come by this type of indelicacy quite honestly.

I need to preface the following tale with the following info: My mom has always been kind of mealy mouthed when it comes to being assertive with anyone outside the family. This is especially true with people she perceives to be in a role of authority and double that if this person happens to be a man as was typically the case in the mid 1970's.

When I was in high school, my younger sister underwent a course of orthdontic treatment which did not go well. Every couple of days, for a two week period, her mouth would get stuck in the open position.

Sidebar: What with it being the holiday season and Peace on Earth and incense and Murray and stuff like that, it would not be appropriate to discuss or even highlight any vicarious pleasure I may have enjoyed at this most uncomfortable and frightening travesty perpetuated against my at the time, mortal enemy beloved sister, which not only prevented her from speaking but, well, she drooled. End Sidebar

My mother had shared her concerns with the orthodontist, who seemingly cared not. An underlying issue was my mother being a widow and earning just above minimum wage. She was making payments to this bastard, by the skin of her teeth, er, dentures. ::My mom and the other 9 members of her high school graduating class had dentures by age 16.::

Anyway, when my sister woke up one morning with her mouth stuck in a perpetual state of stupefication (I’m absolutely not smirking right now. This was a serious matter.) My mom decided she’d had enough. So she threw on some clothes, grabbed Sister Agape and set off to storm the dentist office.

I was not present for this confrontation but according to my sister, who stood by in drop-jawed amazement, it was my mother's finest moment.

After the tirade, the dentist agreed to fix the problem immediately and sent what remained of my teeth feebled family to the waiting room.

In the hallway outside the office, my mom had to stop to gather her new bad self. Suddenly my sister's body is shaking (aka laughter for one whose mouth is stuck open)and she's pointing at my mother's feet. Mom looks down and sees about two feet of panty hose trailing out of her pantleg, well behind her.

In a hurry to get dressed that morning, she hadn’t realized the pants she picked off the floor (yeah, we’re slobs. I have pants on my floor as I type) had a pair of panty hose stashed in them, which were evidently loosened during the foot-stomp portion of the tirade.

That story has been worth a giggle or two over the years. Particularly special to me is the image of my mother marching victorious from the office, proudly wearing her cloak of new found bravery. Leaving in her wake, a trail of No Nonsense decimation.

Holidaze Knitting
I wasn’t able to finish the Teddy Beaver Hood for my hair appointment yesterday, so the pressure is off. I can now finish it at my leisure, between now and Christmas ("Leisure" between now and Christmas. Snort. Sometimes I crack myself right up).

Here's what I have so far:

While waiting for my color to set (I went red. I think I love it but it’s hard to tell when the coat is so fresh. I’ll know more after I shampoo. Tomorrow. Yech) at the salon, I finished the hat for charity (goes with the scarf, as previously posted).

I went with Staceyjoy's Marsan Watch cap pattern. On a fat yarn, this pattern takes on an entirely different look and it's incredibly warm. (yarn is Lion Brand Landscape. Half wool, half acrylic. Fat. I'm in Sunday Morning Lazy Linkin' mode. You'll have to look it up yourself. Said laziness is also extended to figuring out proper placement of commas. When in doubt I left it out. )

After trying on this hat for a look see and being less than enthusiastic with the results I figured out that all knit hats look like shit upon my head. I have further concluded that the issue has nothing to do with my knitting ability.

I have a really small head and really small ears and really short hair, which means there’s no room varying positions for wearing a knit hat. If it’s pulled down on my forehead, I look like the crazy lady who hangs outside the neighborhood pharmacy. If I pull it back a bit, my tiny head can’t hang on and the hat pops off.

So, that’s my little head secret. (Man, I’m sure telling tales outta school today.)

Frosting on the Cakers
While I was getting The Cakers ready for bed the other night, she pointed to the pink heart applique on her pajama top and said "Hearts are for loving, momma." Before I could say anything she added, with a stern shake of the head "Hearts are not for breaking."

How's that for a Sunday School lesson? Straight from Above, as told through the heart of a tender babe.

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