Busy

I have been going in to work this week for extra training. I will be assisting with our Web site. Of course it will be the crappy times it is open. And it will be live. But, I'm looking forward to it.

I forgot how much time it takes to GO to work. Getting ready, driving, etc. But, I have enjoyed seeing my buddies. The training I'm having is a total waste of time. HARRIBLE.

So, there has not been much knitting or cooking. We had a huge salad tonight.

Not that anyone reads this, but a girl was abducted from a shopping center close to my home. They found her body today. I doubt that there would have been such publicity if it were a black girl from the city. It's sad that some people are are worth more than others. There is another girl that has been missing since May 4, 2007. Not a peep about that. But she wasn't from an affluent part of the area.

I called Tate to tell her to be careful. She fits the profile: young, petite, pretty in the face.

Keep your loved ones safe and close.

Nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands.

Well, I fell off the wagon. I cast on, and knit, a pair of garter fingerless mitts from Weekend Knitting. It took one day. I made them for Tate out of one ball of Debbie Bliss Cashemerino Aran in a bittersweet color. I made modifications to the pattern. (I thought the mitts would be HUGE if I followed the pattern.) I was left with about 8 yards of yarn. This was a fun knit. A great last minute project, provided you have enough yarn. I would estimate that it takes just a little over a ball for hands that are normal sized.

My Tate has wee hands. Wee hands that are mighty artist's hands.

He who works with his hands is a Laborer.
He who works with his hands and his head is a craftsman.
He who works with his hand, his head, and his heart, is an artist.

--St. Francis of Assisi

Que Sera Sera Syndrome

I can't get this song out of my head. This is what is called the Que Sera Sera Syndrome. The only way to rid yourself of a dumb song going through your head all day long day after day is to put in someone else's head. So, I thought I'd pass it on to you.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JsHekmWWucs

Have a good day.

Happy Birthday Dustin!

Today is Dustin's 26th birthday.

Happy, Happy Birthday. You have given me so much joy, humor, love, and appreciation for beauty. I love you dearly.

Tate is hosting a party for Dustin tonight at her loft. Dustin wants everyone to wear togas, paint their skin gold and wear fruit on their heads. Be careful tonight, kids. No driving.

I've hit a few bumps in the road over the last few days, which has left me distracted. I couldn't sit still to knit, but I've managed to clean the house and get laundry done. I've even tidied my office. It's been sunny most of the day. Good thing, I was getting sick of the rain.

Here is the progress of the Kureyon striped scarf.

I love the colors in this one. I think Dustin would actually like this one more than the Silk Garden. I'll let him choose. The only thing is that the Kureyon is scratchy.

Tonight, we are having stuffed peppers for dinner. I make them with barley, ground buffalo, pine nuts, sauteed mushrooms, garlic, parsley and chopped green olives. All served with a spicy tomato sauce. Sam's going to try smoking them. Should be yummy.

The part for the RO water filter arrived. Sam has installed it and it is running. I'm glad I won't have to haul those gallon jugs around anymore. I brought a gallon in last night and unbeknownst to me it has a small hole in it. So, it leaked water all night on the countertop, soaking my mail and dripping all over the floor. Bummer.

Another one bites the dust

I finished the Fetching glovelets today. I lost the yarn label a long time ago. I love the color. I'm not sure if I will post a picture or not. There are a few mistakes. Besides, the weather has been really rainy. I'll have to wait until the sun shines again to be able to take a decent picture. As I was finishing, I started thinking of casting on for another pair of glovelets. Silly me. I had to remind myself that I want to complete the backlog of UFOs.



Here is a picture of the Silk Garden Striped Scarf for Dustin.


Sam wakes up incredibly early to go to work and then comes home about a half hour before I'm done with work. After he chills out for a bit, he likes to take a nap. I have decided that this will be the time when I work on finishing up the UFOs. At first it's hard for me to figure out where I am in the pattern. But, once I get going, it's great.


I managed to run outside between rain storms the other day and take a shot of the Noro Kureyon yarn for Caitlin's Kureyon Striped Scarf. It's so crazy here in the Midwest. Raining like hell one minute, and then sunny the next.














I'm not sure which of the many UFO's I'll concentrate on next. Maybe the Hyde Park Pullover.

Stick a fork in it.

The Noro Silk Garden scarf is completed. And in time for Dustin's birthday. I'm going to add some fringe. Pictures to come.

I blocked the sleeves for the Chanel-ish Cardigan Jacket and sewed one shoulder. I think the set-in sleeves are going to kick my ass.

I was so pleased with the Noro Silk Garden scarf that I wound four balls of Noro Kureyon for another scarf. Probably for Caitlin. It's a mindless knit, and the results are superb. I'll post some picks of the yarn later.

Tattoos and Poop

Three out of four of my children have tattoos.

Caitlin has several beautiful Ginkgo leaves falling down her shoulder. This is coincidental because I have been planting trees in my yard to symbolize my children since they moved out. Three years ago I planted a Ginkgo to symbolize Caitlin. And then she came home to show me her thoughtful tattoo. And it is so Caitlin.

Tate has a white tattoo. A perfect circle over her heart. The size of a jelly jar. It peaks out of her shirt and the white line is no larger than a fine point of a Sharpee pen. It is beautiful, too.

John. Oh my Jesus god John. John has horrific tattoos that cover his entire back. I shit Flintstone’s Vitamins when I saw it. Complete with two scary clown heads, a KC Royals insignia and his last name in Roman letters. I about died. All I thought about was, “Try to explain that when you are at the public kiddies pool with your children.” Of course, John at almost 22 hasn’t thought about that. He works as a mason's assistant in construction and is all buff, tan and blond. I'm pretty sure all he is thinking about now are girls.

Only Dustin, the one who is most likely to have a tattoo, doesn’t have one. On Thursday, when Tate and I were hanging out, she called Dustin to inform him that she was going to get another tattoo. And to see if he wanted to get one. Like buying shoes or something.

When I met David, my former husband, I told him I wanted a tiny (less than a half of an inch) tattoo on my rear end. And he said, “Do you want some old greasy fuck to be less than an inch away from your ass for an hour?” So, I chickened out. I did not want to have an old greasy fuck poised over my ass for an hour.

Lately, I’ve been thinking of getting a tattoo. After the rash of crap I’ve given my kids, it would be hilarious. And I would certainly have to hide it. After all, I had an A Number One SHIT FIT each time I found out about my kids’ tattoos.


Tate told me that it was passé to get a tattoo on your ankle. That it wasn’t even the true experience of getting a tattoo because the tattoo artist was not close to your body at all. So if I got one, I'd get a scarab tattoo on my back. I’ve always loved the scarab. As girl, my mother gave me several scarab bracelets, which I love very much to this day. In reality the scarab is also called the dung beetle. A symbol of renewal and used for protection. The emerald green scarab is seen pushing a golden ball of dung in ancient Egyptian depictions. The Egyptians used the scarab as a symbol for the god Khepri, which means to come into being. Khepri was the self-creator. Amulets of scarabs were also buried with the ancient Egyptians as protection. The beetle rolls a ball of fresh dung and buries it. The female will lay her eggs in it, and then later the baby beetles emerge from the ground as if from nowhere.

Anyone who knows me knows I despise bugs. On the other hand, poop is a completely different story. I have friends and acquaintances that keep telling me that poop is not funny.

Oh, but it is.

Poop jokes have been the mainstay of my first family for years. I still love poop jokes. A couple of years ago my mother muttered under her breath “I always thought you kids would grow tired of the Poop jokes. I guess not.”

Lately, since I work form home, most of my communication with my co-workers is through an internal chat tool. When a co-worker does not reply to me in a timely manner, I usually respond with “Were you pooping?”

Or one of my favorites: when you call someone and they answer their phone, just say “Are you done pooping?” Always good for a laugh. Credit to this one goes to Janut. The poop jokes go on and on. My cousin, Bruce, told me about http://www.doodie.com/anger_management.php. While this part of the site isn't about poop, the rest of the site is dedicated to bathroom humor.

The scarab would remind me that as I push my ball of crap along each day just to take the time to create something.