Just so ya know, I could fill this white abyss with word upon word of tormented phrase, all in service to the enunciation of my currently beleaguered existence. But I won’t. Sometimes, just a little peek into the thesaurus is good enough for me. Sometimes, when trying to define one's personal reality, just knowing that the perfect word exists, provides a comfort all it's own.

Knitting Knuggets
Here is what I accomplished this week in knitting:

Monday: Put some Blaze sleeve stitches on a holder.
Tuesday: Looked for another stitch holder.
Wednesday: Put some Blaze sleeve stitches on the newfound stitch holder.
Thursday:Put the rest of the Blaze sleeve stitches on stitch holder.

And this is what knitting has felt like to me, over the past month:


But you know what they say, Knitting, it ain’t for Sisy’s.

Oh yeah. Also, this week, I drew a line in the sand on the current Marthoncho Gusterfluck Debaucle, and most likely have alienated myself from my more respectable peers. But they don’t call me Gustcloak Skirmisher for nothing. ::I wish I could tell you about my adventures with Magic this week, but it’s work related, and therefore protected. But I will say that it was one of the few things to gave me a smile this week, lasting all week. ::

And I apologize for the pitiful cadence on my Gaye hack job in Wednesday's post. All I can say is that it sounded right, at the time. And in fairness to moi, Marv’s a hard rhyme to bust.

Tomorrow is the sweater design class with Melissa Leapman, at Michigan State. ::Hopefully, the town will be in a cheerful, victorious mood?:: I’m very excited about this class, but have recently developed a pronounced preoccupation with finding an appropriate place to park. ::It’s official, I’ve turned into my mother, the woman who skipped all my sporting events in high school(walking distance from our home)and my college graduation, because of her unreasonable fear of not being able to find appropriate parking at well-populated events and/or in unknown territory.::

But I'm sure I'll be fine. Worse case scenario: I'll end up hyperventilating myself right on down Grand River Ave., to Fowlerville, where I'll park at the Methodist Church (Whose Methods,I pray, don't include Saturday Service), and catch a Greyhound back to East Lansing. I just have to leave myself plenty of time. And have a backup plan, or two. Which reminds me, I wonder if the St. Lawrence psych ward is still functional? They always had the best Jello colorways.

P.S. Blogger is totally wonky today. It's publishing old posts when I try to save new posts or eating posts in their entirety.

P.P.S. Blogger is also to blame for any really bad prose contained in the above post. Seriously, it's publishing drafts and eating the stuff I'm trying to publish.