••• Sunday, November 06, 2005

Wreakend Havoc 

Okay. I started this post last Thursday. Then I updated it on Friday, with new information. But when I saved the update, I somehow brainfarted it into pixel dust. Then I mostly rewrote it. And Blogger ate it.

And now, it's 9:00 Sunday night, at the close of a fairly suckass weekend. And at 10pm, I have a date with a cat and a couch and some Gray's Anatomy. Which means, at 10:00, I hit publish, no matter what I got. Serious. Ain't even dinkin'.

Lucky My Ass
You may remember my recent, lame-assed lament about how my jeans no longer fit? Well, last week, a friend happened to mention that she found the best jeans ever, for middle-age afflictions of the flesh. Lucky Brand Easy Riders. Because I had no time to, or interest in, going to the mall (and what would I wear, anyway?) I searched online and found a good, Lucky deal here.

I Lurve Them.
See for yourself. No more Credit Card Swiper Ass for me. (CCSA is Camel Toe of the Ass.)

These jeans remind me much of the boy's Levi's I wore all through high school. Nice and comfy, loose and tight in all the right places.

::How am I doing on time? Hmmmm....9:36. Not so good.::
Keystone Caps
Last spring I wrote about my nephew, who had gotten himself into some real deep and real stinky legal doo. Well, after seven months of much emotional and mental and legal angst, he's leaving the country to attend a residential treatment program for adolescents with B1-p0lar dis0rder.

My nephew is a brilliant, eclectic, artsy young man, and is almost always donning a knit cap of some kind. So, to commemorate this huge, scary and hopefully life altering journey, I decided to make him a cap. To help keep his thoughts in order.

Here's the picture I was going to post Thursday night, on my progress to boot. The yarn is Mission Falls 1824 wool. The pattern is a bastardization of Stacey Joy's Marsan Watchcap. (I'm leaving off the cuff, since he's going to tropical climes.)

::Okay, it's 9:49. It's gonna get wacky....Just sayin'::

So, it seemed to be going well. I was just knitting away, whilst sipping on Chambord martinis and wondering if I should fetch my row counter from my husband's car. Nah. Says I. How hard can it be to count rows of ribbing? I says. Followed with damn, my husband shakes a fine tini. Now, where was I? ::9:58. shit::

So, what's the toll for a night on the couch with boozin' and knittin' and good intentions?

Cakers got a brand new hat. My little Beat Chick.

::It's 9:59. I'm posting. No checkie the typo....no obsessing the boo-boo...I can't believe I'm really doing this...it's fun!::

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