The Dull
F.O. F.O.
I bore to tears, I know.
But no dull Sheila
When I drink Tequila.
F.O. F.O.

Anyway.

This is a hat.



This is another hat.



I knit these hats Mission-ary style, out of the Noro Fuji-no-Mojo. They will be donated to a chemo cap drive.



The Girl Grown Fast
Remember this little Nugget?



I posted that picture my first year In-Blog. Would you believe that she is currently wrapping up a very successful, premier season as a Girl Scout Cookie representative? She even made a couple cold calls.

And last night we received the much awaited phone call, with the news that she was selected to be in her school's production of Alice in Wonderland, as Gardner No. 3::Over 100 students tried out for 24 roles.::

The Girl Grown Wise
About once a week, in lieu of reading a bedtime story, I lie down with Cakers on the bed for what we call "girl talk," wherein I ask her to share a snippet from her day, and then share a snippet from mine.

Tonight she told me some goofy thing one of her friends had done at school. When I asked her why her friend did that goofy thing, Cakers paused, sighed with just a hint of drama, and said "She doesn't think her brain."

Gardener No. 3: Clearly a force to be rakened with.

Labels: Bad Poetry, Charity Knits, Knit Done, Missionary Style '08, My Daughter Scares Me

Absquatuknitting
I have not yet blocked Ariann. And/or my boobs. I don't know where my life goes these days. I do know that it hasn't gone blocking.

A long, long time ago, I pledged five items to the very worthwhile Dulaan Project over at Mossy Cottage.

I'm not sure when I made this pledge, but I do recall thinking the July 1 deadline seemed like months away. Okay, maybe it was months away. But it seemed like months away, using Football Standard Time.* And then I kind of absquatulated from thinking of it again, until a couple of weeks ago.

I also kind of absquatulated from my duties to post this button on my sidebar.



I think a good place for the button on my sidebar would be where the Run-A-Go-Go button is. You know, for the event that expired April 1?

::Sidenote to Ryan: I've been trying to make myself feel better by reminding me that I'm a pretty small frog in this international knit pond and therefore am taking comfort in the knowledge that you've been getting lots of big-ass press from the big-ass frogs, representing all time zones, real or imaginary*.::

Most important is that I will deliver.
That is the most important thing. Right?

My first Dulaan item is this children's sweater from Jil Eaton's Minnies.



I chose this pattern because it matched the yarn I wanted to use ::Gjestal:: and it seemed like something I could whip out real easy.

Rip out real easy is more like it.

I can't even begin to explain how it was that I could not follow this simple, 10 stitch chart. You'd think I'd figure it out by looking at it. Me too.

Actually, it was that confidence of my ability to "play it by eye" that tripped me up in the first place. I actually know exactly what happened, but it's too embarassing to say. Yes. There are some things that are too embarrassing for me to share here. Plus, if I tell the whole story, I fear that people will suspect I am too stupid to be entrusted with the care of a five year-old child, and call protective services.

If I tell the whole story, some of you might determine that I am too stupid to live, and start a knitblog fundraiser to get me a well-deserved mercy killing. ::Ke*vork*ian is my statemate and he used to offer intrastate discounts...::

I finally wrote the damn chart out, row by row. By the time I cast off for the back, I was doing pretty well without chart or row-by-row instructions. But when I started the front, I started up the same play-it-by-eye mistakes.

Visitation Absquatulation
I'm pitifully behind in email correspondence and blog visitations and comments and facial hair maintenance. ::Last week I found a pube growing out of my nose. Not my nostril. The top of my nose. Age is a mother plucker.::

I have three days left of work before summer hiatus. I'm not really all that excited because The Three Days of What Lies Ahead is going to be the equivalent of being behind in the 4th quarter of a championship football game in that: 1) I'll be intently focused on goals 2) Time will feel like it's passing slowly but, 3) I'll also know the constant sensation of running out of time. 4) There will be lots of interference. 5) When it's all over, I'm going to smell real bad.

*Football Standard Time: You know how your husband/boyfriend/cable guy says he'll be ready to leave/eat/install cable line as soon as the game is over? And then you ask, "How long?" And he says something like "There's just 12 minutes left in the last quarter?" And 30 minutes later you ask "How much longer?" only to learn that there are still 9 minutes left? That, my friends, is Football Standard Time.

Labels: Bad Sports Metaphors, Charity Knits, I Work Too, Knit In Progress, Now You're Whining, When Knitting You is Hurting Me

Hat's a Wrap



You may recall my plan to cleanse my knitting psyche while reducing yarn stash, by knitting hats for charity through the end of January. Those are the last two of my cache total of six hats.

I just love The Player. Not only does it produce an upbeat product, the larger stripe blocks create the cognitive illusion of quick knitting. Okay, it is a quick knit anyway, but it feels even quicker with the stripes.

Pattern: Bonne Marie's The Player
Yarn: Encore worsted, two strands held together.

I used a size 10 needle instead of a 10.5 because, well, it was the needle sitting closest to me. On the multi-color stripe number I added stitches and length to fit a larger noggin.

The hats are going to a local homeless shelter. We're currently under a winter storm warning and windchills over the next two days are dipping below the zip.

How Now, Knit Cow?
I had hoped the knitting of the hats would open my dried pea brain to the richly reconstituting forces of the knitting universe, whereby the path to my elusive happy knitting grounds would be illuminated.

Evidently the universal muses in question have checked themselves into a co-dependency rehab program and I've been told to figure it out on my own. So I resigned myself to the pain of my reality: I'm in a boner fried knitting funk.

Before starting anything new, I have resolved to finish my Polar. As of last night, I am up to the arm pits on the front piece. I was planning on adapting the collar to be more of a turtle and less of a cowl.



At this time, however, I continue to possess a strong urge for math-free complication-free knitting, so have decided to go with a collar like this:



I guess you can't see it well, but it's like a boat-neck turtle. I'm sure there's a real name for it, but apparently I'm also in complication-free blogging mode and not inclined to look it up. The collar is knit as part of the sweater front and back, and sewn together at the sides.

Polar is an easy knit sweater and goes fast, but I'm bored out of my ever-lovin' with it and am currently looking forward for some signs-of-spring knitting.

Arianne is my first choice in that department, but I've yet to find some yarn for the project. You may recall that one of my intendments for 2007 is to knit at least one garment in the yarn suggested by the pattern designer, Arianne was also my selection for that honor.

Last weekend there was a huge sale at a local yarn store ::60% off all yarn for part of the day:: but during a pre-sale recon flight, I found they didn't have enough of my desired brands and/or colors.

With a focus on reducing my stash this year, I'm wasn't going to settle for sale-available-only yarn, so I skipped the sale altogether. Besides, this particular yarn store drives me crazy with how they organize, and it's small and I wasn't inclined to be fighting the crowds for yarn I neither want or need, because it's on sale.

I was disappointed that I wasn't going to have some New-Project yarn to motivate me through Polar, but I'll survive. I was able I to fondle some of Bonne Marie's recommended yarns for Arianne. After feeling some up and feeling some down and plucking a couple from my velcro cuffs, the hands-down winner was Berroco Cotton Twist in Sea Glass. But they only had two skeins of it at the yarn store, so I'm looking elsewhere.

All that being said, I think my first post-Polar project is going to be the baby Williamsbro for Cakers, from Cornelia Tuttle.



This sweater will not be made up in the required Noro yarn, but the lovely and washable and practically Cakers-proof Encore, instead.

Or maybe I'll just take all my knitting and stuff it in a bag and lock it in a closet and take up lounge singing.

Got Runs?

I'm walking some ass, my peeps.




Fur Goodness Sakes



Now I gotta see a weatherman about a snow day.

Labels: Charity Knits, Fur, Runagogo, When Knitting You is Hurting Me

It's been said that a leopard never changes its stripes. The same can't be said for hats.

Remember this?



Now it's this:



When I went back for the 7 row Encore frog, I found myself just pulling and pulling. Next thing I know, I'm casting on for this. ::scroll down a tad.::

What a fun knit. And fast. Ree Ree fast. This makes pattern number 3 from Bonne Marie, in my current knit parade.

That's what I call a hat trick.

::My favorite hat trick ever was running into three ex-boyfriends at one hockey game. And you know how ever once in a while you have a night when you just know you look your best? The skin, the hair, the twinkle in the eye? It was a night like that. Sigh.::

Labels: Charity Knits

Me and Knitting have had a recent parting of the mind and are currently emotionally estranged. Knitting, being the sweet and tender soul she is, blamed herself right off the hat.
Absolutely not, I said. It's me. I've changed. I lost my path. You deserve better, and I'd understand completely if you decided to move on.

But sweet, charitable Knitting agreed to stick it out through this period of Turds und Wang*, with only two stipulations: 1) The relationship will be on a platonic basis for awhile, defined as "No Addi turbos or high end yarns." ::Snort. As if...:: 2) No more speaky German.

*It's a German thing, meaning a period of turbulence or pre-menstrual psychosis.

What's all the rest of that mean?

Well, off the top of my head, it means hats. Lotsa hats.




Okay. Just four hats.

The top hat, is Bonne Marie's ChicHat pattern, in two strands of Encore.

The green and pink number is also in Encore and the pattern from Last Minute Gifts. And here's a surprise: I think there is a mistake in the pattern. I shoulda caught it. But I didn't. I made the children's size and it calls for a cast on of 72 stitches, in a worsted weight. They must grow 'em large in the Land of Last Minute Gifts. I just hope I can find an adult recipient of willing to wear green and pink in the same hat.

There is supposed to be a pom-pon on top of the green/pink one too. But there isn't. When I was a kid, I could never make the pom-pon. When ever I tried to make a pom-pon, it always turned out looking like an armless yarn doll.

Being an all grown woman ::and still growing! Yeah for me!::, I kind of thought I could figure out the pom-pon. But no. It was actually looking pretty good, up until it exploded.

Heh. I always wanted to be on the Pom-Bomb squad.

Hat number 3 is Bonne Marie's H2O in some yarn my mom gave me. I lost the labels, but I think it was Jiggle something, like Jack and Jiggle, or Jiggly With It.

Hat number 4 is Encore again, and this pattern

And this little short-rowed bane of my current knitxistence is Knitty's Tychus. ::Is it just me, or does that sound like a nasty?::



It's a real fun knit and should be pretty easy. The yarn is Encore, as should be the name of the pattern, seeing as how I've knit, ripped and knit again, the same 7 rows. For some reason, I just can't count straight for this. And as I look at this picture, I see that I'm going to have to do it again. Again.

So whazzup widdall da hatz?

I dunno. I suddenly was tired of thinking about big knitting. My current sweater project (Polar) is almost to a point where I'm I need to do some mathematical calculations to get the neckline/collar I desire. It's not a big deal, really. But it seemed so. A big deal.

And that's when I realized that I had a strong need for my a kinder, gentler, less calculating knitting. I had a vision of knitting being smooth and graceful, like two lovers running through a field of daisies, or a T.V. commercial for self-heating K-Y gel.

I want my knitting to be spontaneous and easy. I want to sit in my favorite spot and have it drop out of the ceiling, like an oxygen mask on a jet plane.

I want my knitting to be less thinky. And more fun, with dignity.

So I decided to shake off the ennui and cleanse my mental knit palette with some something easy, like hats for charity. Because I already had a bunch of yarn out for the last horizontal striped scarf, I figured the transition to hats would be astro-glide smooth.

But first I had to leaf through a gazillion books and loose sheets, in search of the right patterns. After I found the patterns, I needed the proper needles. So I opened my needle drawer, to face this:



All of a sudden, knitting hats felt about as easy as catching dust bunnies with a blow dryer.

But I persevered. For charity.
This perseveration for charity will continue through the end of the month.

And now that I have you bored to tears and totally convinced this should never be a blog that offers All Knitting All the Time , and stick to making shit up and playing with my food, I bid thee adieu.

Labels: Charity Knits, When Knitting You is Hurting Me

I heart this scarf.
I really heart being done with this scarf.

Pattern: Bunches and bunches of garter. And some fringe. I hate making fringe.

Yarn: Bunches and bunches of Plymouth Encore from deep within the bowels of my bins. A couple of the colors I've had for 12 years or so. Howz that for some ball bustin?

Recipient: An orphan in college.

Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory...
...of the Glowing Big Ass Button.

I don't know if any of you knew this, but one of our nation's former presidents passed away a couple weeks ago. You may or may not have seen anything in the news about this man and his family and the 1.5 billion hours of funeral he left behind, but this dead president was all the rage around my neighborhood. When his funeral procession passed by just two blocks from my home, I went to watch.

And the very next day....this picture appeared in the paper. Sort of.



Look at the upper left hand corner. See the orange hat with the glowing, big ass button? That's me and my Republic. This picture is a serious croppage from a much larger picture of the funeral procession. In the picture that was in the paper you could make me out, but you had to know what you were looking for. In the online version you can hardly see me at all.

If you want to see for yourself, clink here, and go to the fifth picture in the series. That's the one. ::You can see my big ass button though, just below the street sign.::

Practically famous.

A Contest
Now, let's say I'm at this dead president's funeral, and some guy comes up to me and tries to take my hat, but I hold on to it, but the guy won't let go, and pretty soon we're fighting over the hat, pulling back and forth, and pretty more soon a crowd gathers to watch ,and after a few minutes the crowd starts singing a song about what we were doing. The song is a tribute. To the fight. Over my hat. My orange hat, with the Big Ass Button.

Can you name that tune, for a chance to win a prize of a hugo mongo cone of pink, laceweight alpaca?

Email your answer c/o marcymayy at aol the dot com along with any other words of adoration and glorification,etc. Deadline for the contest is 11:59 p.m., Saturday, January 13. The winner will be drawn from a pool of correct responses.

I'll show a picture of the booty yarn late tomorrow. I totally just pulled this contest thangy from my monkey portal, like five minutes ago and now it's time for bed.

P.S. This post turned into something entirely different than I had planned, which was to share my hopes and dreams for 2007. I was also going to talk about a button on my sidebar and another one that will be there tomorrow or the next day. I'm so tired I'm typing with one eye. g'nite.

Labels: Charity Knits, Dead Prez

The other day I got out my can opener and was opening a can of worms, when I thought “What am I doing?” – Jack Handey

I looked for an apt quote about time, but some of the quotes were too long, while others too weird or cryptic. Even though that quote is not about time, it seemed just writhe.

The Re-ravel: 2006
Anyway. I know I’m a little late with this, so sue me, wrestler. And because I am in one great hurry and you are already on board to tears, I will commence with a whore’s-bath-version of my Review of 2006 , followed by my most Heartfelt Anticipations of 2007, or A Bunch of Monkeys Might Be Flying From My Butt Some Time This Year or Maybe the Next and Maybe I'll Like it or Maybe I Won't.

1) I ABC’d-Along, one long year long. I really liked the ABC-Along because it provided me with not only opportunity but also the odd courage to share banal tales of yore, or otherwise real personal stuff about me and my family that you have no business knowing. Said stories caused you at times, to look away in shame and embarrassment. And regret. Oh wait, that was me.

And I’m pretty sure that if my therapist was still alive, he’d have gone oops upside my head before rolling his own self into the grave, after reading some of that shit. Seeing as how you can't hurt dead therapists or living relatives who don't Google, it's all good. Thanks for coming back, comma Drama notwithstanding.

2) I studied real hard and passed that damn test. The same test that I would not have had to take had I been paying attention for a mere 10 professional minutes the previous year and had my papers in order.

3) 2006 was not a prolific knitting year for me, but I was pleased with almost every item with which I plodded to completion. My personal favorite was the Green Gables, but The Cakers’ Queen of Hearts was a close second.

4) I walked about 300 miles between May and September, and lost a whopping 6 pounds. I promptly regained the 6 pounds in October, without having to lift a toe. ::Can’t hate a little something for nothing, now can I? And ain’t it great how life can be so serendipitously rich and rewarding?::

I can’t remember anything else, and have not the time to go archive diving.

Pre-ravel: 2007
One thing in which I will not be participating in 2007: Knit From Your Stash. Okay, I will be knitting from my stash, since I'm pretty sure the propietors of my favorite yarn store wouldn't appreciate me knitting straight from theirs.

My Bust My Balls program seems to be coming along nicely. The size of my current stash, in proportion to how many years I have to live, still frightens me. This fear functions as a natural inhibitor of the I Need Yarn hormone.

Works for me.

One thing in which I am participating in 2007 is Runagogo.



Here's my '07 mileage to date, all courtesy of my elliptical machine:




I love to walk and as soon as weather allows, I will return to it. In the meantime, it's just me and my cardo machine. But ever since the local channel took away my back-to-back Judge Judys ::4:00-5:00, M-F, Monday thru Friday.:: my ellipticating just ain't been the same.

So, mama got a brand new distraction:



For three days running ellipticatin' now, family members have resorted to begging me to stop the laughing, get off the machine and feed/bathe/clothe/console their helpless, sorry asses. ::I'm feeling kinda comma shy these days, which is causing me no small amount of panic, which in turn is causing me to, plant commas, with wildly random, abandon,. And, stuff., ::

I can't believe I didn't know about this show before, but I'm glad it's in my life now. In fact, I see an intervention in my future. I can't wait.

I also have some thoughts for my knitting in '07, but that'll have to be continued at a later date. My nickel done run out an hour ago, so I'm currently running on fumes.

I Came. I Saw. I Scarfed.

Here she is, the first baby of 2007, minus fringe:



I'll fringe her tomorrow and she'll be in the mail with her older sister to the Red Scarf Project by the weekend.

Hi Mom!



Yeah. Ain't she cute? Three seconds after this shot, she had both her front paw claws deeply embedded in the scarf. Much like dealing with a teen, it's typically best to let the moment pass without intervention, less one is seeking physical damages. It was hard, but I let the moment pass.

This post is officially over, whether finished or not. I'm one eye typing. Less than entertaining at best, dangerous at worst.

To be continued...........................................

::how many of those dot thangies are allowed again? I'm so confused. And scared. Someone? Anyone? I know I said I didn't care, but sometimes::

Labels: Charity Knits, Intendments, Runagogo

I've been working on a real post, but this ain't it.

I really shouldn't even be doing this right now because I'm supposed to be getting my house ready for guests later today. It's a birthday celebration of sorts, for me and my mom.

The guests kind of invited themselves. Initially I tried to say no, but it came out along the lines of "It's really not a good time for us, with Eric working 2 jobs and all, and I'm having guests for Thanksgiving a few days later. Ask around and if no one else can do it, I will."

2 hours later the follow-up call came to tell me the contract to throw my own birthday party was my own. I'm pretty sure the person simply set a kitchen timer before calling me back, to make it look like he/she tried.

This person who made all the arrangements also agreed to make all the arrangements for who is bringing what so the only prep I am responsible for is hiding the empties and scraping out the toilet bowl.

This person has also been unavailable to me by phone for several days. A sibling suggested I call the person's cell phone, but then we both agreed that would be a bad idea, because this person doesn't know how to use the phone and hearing it ring might just make him/her cry.

I'd love to share more, but I need to save something for my book, which won't be published until my entire family has either died, been incarcerated or gone completely off their nuts.

Got Bent?
This is what's left of my birthday flowers.



Last night The Cakers said "Look at your flowers, mommy!"

"I know, they're old."

"No mommy, they're not old. They're just bent."

Bent. Yup.

No Clever Headings Today.
Here's me Red Scarf, in all his/her fringed glory.



I've decided I don't care for the making of fringe. I find it a fussy awkward affair.

Meme Streak
Because I've nothing else.

This one's been floating around. I saw it first at Rabbitch

You can only type one word in response to the prompt.

1. Yourself: bleary
2. Your boyfriend/girlfriend (spouse): mine
3. Your hair: tsunami
4. Your mother: awol
5. Your Father: deceased
6. Your Favorite Item: camera
7. Your dream last night: Japanese
8. Your Favorite drink: wine
9. Your Dream Car: red
10. The room you are in: dining
11. Your Ex: which?
12. Your fear: loss
13. What you want to be in 10 years? alive
14. Who you hung out with last night? dog
15. What You're Not? organized
16. Muffins: poppyseed
17. One of Your Wish List Items: time
18. Time: insufficient
19. The Last Thing You Did: scanned
20. What You Are Wearing: pajamas
21. Your Favorite Weather: fallish
22. Your Favorite Book: ShellSeekers
23. The Last Thing You Ate: Cornmuffin
24. Your Life: tight
25. Your Mood: waytight
26. Your best friend: husband
27. What are you thinking about right now? housework
28. Your car: garbagebomb
29. What are you doing at the moment? typingduh
30. Your summer: glorious
31. Your relationship status: Yummy
32. What is on your TV? FairlyOddParents
33. What is the weather like? dreary
34. When is the last time you laughed? thismorning

who else will do this? Unknown.

I don't know where I saw the link to this one, but I found the precision of the results pretty amazing, seeing as how I live in the Great Lake State and all.

What American accent do you have? Your Result: The Inland North You may think you speak "Standard English straight out of the dictionary" but when you step away from the Great Lakes you get asked annoying questions like "Are you from Wisconsin?" or "Are you from Chicago?" Chances are you call carbonated drinks "pop."
The Midland
The South
The Northeast
Philadelphia
The West
Boston
North Central
What American accent do you have? Take More Quizzes

I seriously can't believe I got such a high score on this one. I did not pay attention in high school. I have, however, always been a good guesser.



Bring 'er Home
I've been working on a post for days about the slow dawning on my density that as I've aged over the past couple of years I have become a new marketing demograph. And just this week it has decidedly kicked my ass morale.

However, what with throwing myself a birthday party and planning a Thanksgiving feast and my ever imploding caseload at work which requires my coming home every night to pick the residual particles out of my brain before I can function further, there will likely be no real posting again until the last Turkey has Trotted.

And I mean it.

And I briefly scanned this post for glaring whatevers but otherwise it's going to publication as is.

Pretty much.

Labels: Charity Knits, Knit Done, MEME, With Grace My Ass

...I Can Braise Your Eyeballs With Shots of Charity Knitting if I Want To.


Other choices I considered for the title of this post included: When Good Cold Medicine Happens to Bad Knitters and Not Your Mother's Acid Reflux

Seriously. I love this scarf.

I know that many of you will not.

I know that many of you are shaking your properly reared, high browed noggins in disgusted amazement, and wondering if I need a medication adjustment.

I know that a few of you have already fired up the IM's for a mandated dish session with like-dishing cohorts. ::For you, I offer this further fodder: It's Cotton Ease. You're welcome.::

I know these things to be true.

Yet unrepentant I remain.

The Thing Is
I had an urge to knit a Red Scarf, for a cause.

A Big But
This is the part where I was originally going to defend my choice of colors and yarn through detailing, ad nauseum, the fruitless stash dive at home, followed by the uninspiring trip to the yarn store, where I found many appropriate and mutedly hued yarns which SCREAMed to me: Staid. Settled. All-Grown.

Hello, Kitty.
I heard a whisper in my ear.

Muted Schmuted.
These are college students.
If you knit it, they will scream.
In delight.
Besides, their youthful eyeballs can tolerate quite a bit more than the eyeballs of the aged likes of you, without permanent damage.
But I'm not one to gossip,
So you didn't hear it from me.

So I did As Whispered.
I knit this crazyasswhimsical scarf for an orphan in college.

And I love it, so.
And I have a really, really strong feeling that the recipient is going to love it

Too.

This Random Header Shit Is Fun.
Isn't it?

Are You Thinking What I'm Thinking?
I should do this more often.

Anyway
Yeah.
The pattern is 300 stitches of garter, changing color as whispered.

Fringe
Pending.

Is it Just Me, or is it Getting Old in Here?
Thank you all so kindly for your lovely birthday greetings. And a special thanks to my Westward Sweetheart Miss Kim ::smooch::, for sending you all my way.
And if my typing seems a little, well, slurpy tonight, that's because, well, it is. For my birthday dinner I had me one of them there Applebee's Perfect Margaritas.

Mmmm. How I love me some Applebee's Perfect Margarita.

And Chicken
Whatchu think? That I drank my dinner?

So yeah, I'm 48. I do have some thoughts on that. One such thought was inspired by an incidental event that occured just today.

A thought I have about 365 days or so to ponder.

I'll Keep You Posted
Whatever.

Last week the candle factory burned down. Everybody just stood around and sang Happy Birthday. - Steven Wright

P.S. Happy Birthday today to Judith from NYC. And Prince Charles. Let's hear it for The Scorps Corps.

P.P.S. Note to self, no more tequila on weeknights.

Labels: BUI, Charity Knits, Knit Done, Now You're Whining

Dear Boob Walkers,
For the past five years or so, I've been a real nice lady. Whenever I approached a group of two or three of you walking abreast, and it was apparent that no one was going to step aside and make room for me to pass, I'd be forced to step into a gravelly ravine, or onto a lawn. One time, while moving out of the way, I caught my shoe on the edge of the sidewalk and almost landed on a freshly expressed lugie, dangling in the grass.

I always stepped aside because I am typically not one to sweat the small things. I did this because life is too short for dwelling on the petty, including your unfathomable, consistently boorish behavior. I did this because I am a sane, well-balanced person, with many things going for me. At least I was that person.

But, dear ladies, now that I've entered the Peri-Pausal zone, all bets are off. These days I'm feeling old and tired and that perhaps life ain't so short but is indeed, very long and draining and otherwise an old tired bitch. These days, I'm not feeling so well-balanced or that so many things are going my way. In fact, you might say that these days I'm feeling a little off my nut. Sweetly crazed. Peri-Menocidal. Even.

What does all this mean for you, dear ladies? It means I ain't moving no more. Why should I? When my husband and I go for a walk and another person approaches on the sidewalk, we wouldn't in a million sidewalk squares expect that person to move out of our way. Beside being rude, expecting the other person to move doesn't make any kind of sense. I like things to make sense.

I know that for years now I've been the objet du joke of your little club. Your poster child for Easy Sidewalk Prey. But no more. Starting today, I'm not moving. Neither am I going to be rude. There will be no dirty looks. No obscene rumblings. I'm going to say "Excuse me," with a smile, and stand. And wait. Until one of y'all steps aside.

And because being the training bra for The Boob Walkers Club has become my new mission in life, I've cleared my calendar. I've plenty of time. I'll stand as long as need be. ::Remember The Zax?::

Then, once you move and let me pass, you'll all look back at me. And I'll be looking back at you. And I'll give a little wave and a smile. Then later, back at the Boob Walkers clubhouse, ::You know where the Boobs hang out:: one of you might swear to the others that when looking back,you saw a strange red glow in my eye and heard a faint, unearthly howl in the near distance. Someone else might say they think they saw and heard the same thing. And a new poster child will be born. And within a few days, word of my new annointment will be out and I'll be parting The Boob Walkers like Moses and the Red Sea.

Just Sayin'. Dear ladies.

::This story went a bit long. The Best Stalking Story Ever will soon be available in the third installment of the Walking the Blog series.::

Knittin' Knuggets
Over the past week I have knit up three hats for the Get Connected charity. Here I am modelling one (pay no attention to the lady behind the eyebrow):



The yarn is Lion Brand Chunky Kool Wool and the pattern is Crazy Aunt Purl's Brangelina hat pattern.

I'd love to stay and chat, but it's a beautiful spring day, and I've got some sidewalk ass to crack. So I'll leave you with this...


...Two people walking a breast

Labels: Boobs and Pee and Poo, Charity Knits, Walking the Blog

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