Preface: I'm going to proceed with today's blog post as though I've not been not knitting, posting blog,reading blogs, eating, pooping, peeing, bathing, mating, parenting,or otherwise doing anything but thinking about and writing reports for work. In other words, we're going to pretend that the following post is based on recent observations and not a succession of events which occurred weeks ago, the last time I was allowed out of my brain cell. End Preface.

Lately it seems like I do my best blog writing while out walking. Maybe it's the fresh air and sunshine or merely the caliber of mental widgets I encounter on the path, but whenever I go walking about, I am inspired to write a post in my head, or brain-blog, as I call it.

And damn if I don't walk up some funny shit. No really. My Walking the Blog posts are my best work; poignant, relevant, and possibly some of the funniest and original observations to potentially grace the face of the internet.

Potentially. Because sure as shit, by the time I get home from the walk and fix the dinner and feed the dog and play with the girl and gratify the husband to his complete and utter satisfaction, and finally sit down at the keyboard, my brain is wearing nothing but a smile.

During yesterday's walk, I happened upon a few of the very same sidewalk-cretins who inspired my earlier (and far more clever than this) impressions and thereby jogged my Walking the Blog memories. Sort of.

And it went something like this:

Dear Lady Walking in Front of Me, Talking on the Cellphone:

It's a beautiful day. We're on a nature trail. I'm half out of my fucking mind with stress. I need some quiet. Did I mention this is a nature trial? And while I surely appreciate your thorough presentation of our local weather forecast over the next two days, as shared with whom I presumed to be your adult daughter, with children of her own, who lives out of town but will soon be coming for a visit, please, just shut the fuck up.

And lady, I'm a mother too. I know that I will never totally give up the parental reins when it comes to what I consider my legal right to be obnoxiously intrusive and interfering with my offspring, regardless of their age. That being said, I’m pretty sure your daughter's gynecologist has already told her that Chlamydia is an STD and cannot be contracted by eating rancid pesto.

Dear Young Mother at the Playground:

It's a beautiful day. You're at a playground holding the hand of your barely walking, strapping baby boy. A lovely picture. Really. Except for that cell-phone tucked between your shoulder and ear. That looks a little awkward. Especially since the hand that isn't dangling the baby is holding what appears to be a freshly frappe-ed, Frappocino Grande.

With your hands being all full and shit, you can't possibly remove the phone from it's neckly nook, and therefore you have no choice but to stand in the middle of a playground, on a beautiful spring day, and talk on your phone, between sips of icy drink, while your babe whimpers and watches the children play. At the park. On a beautiful spring day.

I'd be happy to give you a hand and all, but I'm afraid it would lead to my eventual incarceration. Of course, that would be only after the special forensic team of proctologists and Verizon Techies procures the physical evidence from your preppy Gapped-ass. Then again, the chance to hear Fergie ringtoning "My hump, my hump, my lovely little bumps..." from your freshly waxed bung-hole, might almost be worth it.

Dear Buttard Walking Towards Me in the Sopranos-esque Jog Suit:

It's common sense to follow the rules of road traffic while walking a trail used by other people. You veer to the right, and I veer to the right. Then we just fuggidah bottit.

This concludes Part 1 of the two part, Walking the Blog Mini-Series. Following is a preview of the next and final episode, to be posted at a future date:
1) Best Stalking Story Ever
2) Marcy and the Boob Walkers.
3) Perhaps some other shit I might just make up about people driving past in cars or riding buses.

Knitting Knuggets
Knone.

She Lied About Knitting
Over the past two weeks I have knit about three rows on The Cakers heart motif sweater. Two of which were unknit. Accompanied by a lovely Beaujolais.

I'm thinking this is a Really Cool Thing going on in my own little town. If you're interested in participating, my neighborhood yarn store is collecting donations.

Hate to brain puke and run, but it's time for my walk. I'm thinking that I should start carrying a legal pad and pen on my walks so I can jot down blog-worthy material. On second thought,no. I'd hate to end up some other hateful person's blog fodder.

::I know I've been a bad blogger. In my defense, I've spent most of my waking hours over the past 10 days writing reports. And I just can't write anymore. It should let up now, at least for a couple weeks, but I can't say for sure. In the meantime, speaking of holes, go check out this post , from my new favorite read. Well, read the rest of her stuff too. Of course.::

::Idiotic Editing apologies: Sorry for the late repost, but I found a huge typo in my post, which I somehow missed after 3000 careful read throughs.::

Labels: Charity Knits, Walking the Blog