I'm Here!

I know! I know! I've been silent for way too long. I could go into great detail about how I had this little thing that was nothing that turned into a small thing that was still suppose to be nothing but that then required minor outpatient surgery which morphed into forty-five minutes of hell with two doctors poking around and umpteen more trips back to the doctor's office and then a trip to the ER because *eww* infection. Or was it? And, I could tell you about the really young doctor ER who was like, way younger than me dude, and who hadn't yet learned all of the intricacies of bedside manner and at one point uttered, "I'm not saying you're dirty" to which my husband replied, "Dirty Whore!" in a funny accent which typed looks really bad but if you were there was quite funny. And, I won't tell you about how I almost emasculated Doogie Howser when he decided to poke at my boo-boo while he was basically straddling my legs (note to all doctors - legs kick when a person feels sharp pain, stay clear of legs when poking at folks). I won't tell you all about that, because, instead, I'd like you to see what I did while I was messing with this medical stuff ...



Yep! I knitted. I even did it while I was hooked up to an i.v. Go me! Knitting while in the hospital (or waiting at the doctor's office) is a great way to pass time. In fact, the doctors were more perturbed by my four hour wait for a CT scan than I was. Well maybe not MORE perturbed, but it was pretty darn close. I was just knitting away and the time, it flew! I may have not noticed that they forgot me in a room for over an hour because my knitting was so engrossing. Oh, and I was high on morphine too! That may have helped - the time passing, not my knitting. Because yarn overs and slipped stitches, they can be tricky when you are surfing the morphine superhighway.

Morphine and it's buddy Vicodin, they have been having fun with me. My Christmas decorations, however, have not. All this medical stuff has mucked with my schedule. You see, I have people, like several of them, coming over to MY HOUSE for a party. Right now, it looks like Christmas threw up in my living room. There are ornaments on my couches and stockings on the floor. I think I may have drunkenly placed a wreath in the middle of the stairs, because, really, we all need an obstacle course, on the stairs, while we are whacked out on pain killers! I need to gather my wits and pull it together because these people that are coming over, they've never lived with me. They may not understand my appreciation for the avant garde. They might not agree with me that cat hair, when blown to and fro and gathered in a large statuesque ball in the corner, is abstract art. This could be bad.

Truth be told, the Christmas vomit, that was not exactly the result of pain medication. That was all me, having constant interruptions by electrical shortages and doctors and the like. I wish I could blame it on narcotics. In fact, however, I have been trying to keep it together and I was even sober enough to go to TWG's crafting party. It was a really great time. A lot of fun. And, contrary to what you may think I was NOT high when I made these:



Yes, the "snowflake ornament" looks like a ship's wheel, and the J might look like a B, but I WAS NOT HIGH! My snowman, he looks high, but in a good way. I am sure he is a friendly drunk.

Bummer

What do you mean there is some show called "Live at The Knitting Factory" and I CAN'T WATCH IT? Are you kidding me?

Armageddon

What is this? Rachael Ray really IS everywhere! I am not a RR hater, in fact, I even like a few of her recipes and own one of her books (it was a gift - let's not be too crazy) but I find it a little disarming to see her face on two purchases from one shopping trip!

My Bad

I was driving and my mind was wandering and I was trying to think of the worst gift I had ever given. I really couldn't come up with the WORST gift, per se, but I did come up with ...

THE MOST WHITE TRASH GIFT I'VE EVER GIVEN: a carton of Newport Lights.

Sorry BeFri. Many years ago, we were smokers, and we were young. It seemed at that time that a carton of cigarettes was both pricey and useful. A real classy Christmas gift. I'm so embarrassed.

D'oh!

How could I forget to tell you? I don't know. But I did! Must have been the proverbial brainfart. Anywho, I finished my formerly-known-as-the-sweater-of-doom-then-known-as-the-never-ending-sweater-but-now-known-as-Snuffleupagus-because-the-sleeves-look-like-his-trunk.



Well, by finished, I mean I just have to sew the pieces together. If I knew how to do that (mattress stitch? whip stitch? ¿qué carajo? no comprendo), then it would be done. Sometimes I am a slacker, but this sweater was really easy to knit and if I actually knew what I had been doing the whole time without going to class (or had blindly knitted ahead like some of the teacher's pets in my class ... I'm not really that bitter, it's just that I hate being the "slow" one), then this could have been done in three weeks - I wouldn't have even needed a whole month. God bless the knit stitch!

Oh, and unrelated to my brainfart, I have read here and here and a few more places that I have now forgotten, that this guy is conducting research about the internet meme and knittingbloggers are being asked to participate and represent. Yo. Represent! So, I'm doing it and I think you should do it too. All the cool kids are doing it. The directions are as follows:

1) Have a glass of wine. Okay, this may not be a "real" instruction. I may have added that one in there. An insentive, if you will.
2) Write a post linking to the guy in which you explain the experiment. See above. Does not (hopefully) have to be particullary well written.
3) Ask your readers (or your make believe readers) to do the same.
4) Ping Technorati. I looked this up as "pinging" was foreign to me. You click the link and you end up at a page where you can enter your home page URL, thus causing Technorati to come have a look at what you've been up to ...
5) HIDE THE PORN!
6) Have another glass of wine and smile because you were helpful.

Tease

I was driving down the road when I noticed that there was a new store in this old has-been-empty-for-some-time-now building. I was pleased to see that there was something in there. I was ecstatic when I saw the name:



I actually made a U-turn so I could look in the windows and check it out. They even had a little sign over the side door:



You can imagine my disappointment when I looked in the window and saw that "fleece" was in reference to the many fuzzy jackets, scarves, and outerwear it sells, and not yarn or roving or anything knittingesque.

I've Got Photoshop!

You will now be subjected to me messing around with my pictures trying to create something beautiful and artistic! I know, I know. I haven't gotten there yet! I even seem to be working in reverse and making Baby Girl less cute than she is in person.

For Real

Scene: Me, next to my car with a flat tire, working on changing said tire while reading car manual on how to do this.

Three different people at different times during this process: Don't you have AAA?

Me: Yep, but I get a discount if I change the tire myself.

Response of the three different people at different times: Really?

Not-Really-Thanksgiving

Sit back and relax, I am now going to channel my inner ten year old and tell you about my winter vacation ...

Nine years ago my family celebrated our first Thanksgiving without my mom. My mom, aunt and I had always been into the holidays and liked to celebrate them with a lot of pomp and circumstance, so my aunt and I decided that the family would do a Not-Really-Thanksgiving. We ended up renting a gorgeous house in The Keys and dining on lobster after a day of deep sea fishing. It was a good way to get over that hurdle of "moving forward." This year, we were faced with same hurdle since it was our first Thanksgiving without my aunt. My uncle and I decided that we would do this Not-Really-Thanksgiving with a brunch at his yacht club and a football game.

Boo and I woke up nice and early (2:08 A friggen M) on Thursday to catch a flight to Miami. Despite (or maybe because of) the early hour, the view from my seat was great:



And, we were graced with the presence of a "celebrity" on our flight.



It's Terry, from last season's Survivor. Impressed? I know you are. Heh. I think he and his family were flying standby or whatever it is that pilots do when they are not actually flying the plane because he was wearing his pilot's outfit. Actually, this is not the first time I have run into a "celebrity" at my teeny tiny local little airport. Last Thanksgiving when Boo and I were flying to Miami, we were waiting at our gate for the passengers to deplane so that the airline could clean it and then load us up when Jerry O'Connell and Rebecca Romijn got off. Why they were there I have no idea.

Any way, once we landed we cleaned up and went to the yacht club. I was "forced" to stare at this:



while we were eating. Not bad. After a short nap, we cleaned up (again - because we're messy like that) and went to the game. It (like most of the trip) was bittersweet. It was great to win but sad to know it was Larry's last game.

The weekend also included visits with friends, lots of good food, and a trip to the mall on Black Friday with BeFri where we saw this:



She denied being influenced by Oprah and said she just wanted to spread some holiday cheer but I found the whole thing suspect.

The building formerly known as the Centrust building which I think might now be the Bank of America building, was lit up nice and pretty with snow flakes for the holidays:



As was this house:





Those are five blow up thingamajigs you see there, including the Nativity Scene. Driving by, you are forced to stop as you say "Holy Crap!" The pictures don't really do it justice, but let me say that this house is in a very affluent neighborhood surrounded by million dollar homes tastefully decorated with small white twinkly lights. I am sure the neighbors LOVE this (and the accompanying hum and whir of each blow up thingamajig).

While I was visiting with my uncle he let me look at some of my aunt's knitting stuff. In her stash, I found this:



I was gobsmacked. These are sweaters that she knit for me. I assume these were gifts planned for my birthday and C'mas. They were just waiting for some buttons. Needless to say, after a good cry, I packed those babies up. I'm not sure if she had the buttons picked out and they are sitting somewhere in her stash. I was too verklempt to keep looking.

I was not, however, too verklempt to notice the money that was laying on the ground in the middle of the street by the cheap-as-hell $2.19/gallon gas station! Yah baby! It's like it grow on trees ...



Venezuelan trees! I'll have you know that is 0.466287 US Dollars. Or roughly forty-seven cents. Go me!

We stayed at Bikini Bottom, my friend Opa's house. He, as always, abandoned us and went on a trip of his own. He did, however, leave a list of rules and instruction about ten pages long which included gems like "no heterosexual sex," "all television shows must be viewed in their original black and white format," and "no sitting on, drinking near, or looking too much at the green couches." Every time we go to Opa's it is like walking back in time. His house is styled circa 1950. This would be totally cool except, all of the stuff inside is also circa 1950. Have you ever wiped your butt with 50 year old toilet paper or brushed your teeth with 50 year old toothpaste? It gives a little something extra to the experience. I did not, however, drink is 50 year old liquor. I was tempted, but scared.

For both of our flights we sat in first class. But, the flight home was an hour and a half late. This was good for knitting purposes because I am almost done with my second sleeve.



Whew! We were initially scheduled to sit in row one but ended up switching seats with a guy in row four who had no legs (no kidding). And, as no good deed goes unpunished, they ran out of "filet mignon" in row three and we were left with the worst pasta ever! The flight attendant felt so bad, she gave us "thank you" gifts for switching seats.



When she gave these to us she said that they were out of wine or she would have given us a bottle or two. I was totally cool with this because I thought that blue insert had a MasterCard gift card thing tucked in it. Wrong! It is just your run-of-the mill vanity set. Bummer!

The late plane meant that when all was said and done, I was in bed at 2:51 a.m. As I leaned over to set my alarm, I was amused to note that I was going to bed later than when I has woken up just four days before.

As for meeting my vacation goals, I did not smack a ho'(of either the good cheer Santa variety or of the hoochie variety - both of which were way too prevalent for my tastes) or sit on the beach. Nor did I drink copious amounts of liquor from 1958, but I did have a nice glass of wine. I also pretended that is was not Thanksgiving, to the mall of Black Friday. Not too shabby!

Inspiration Hits

You know how the internet is like this amorphous thing and sometimes you turn right but it sends you down and to the left instead? Well, I just had one of those more inspired trips and now I just figured out what I can knit for holiday gifts.

How would you like for me to make you your very own vibrator cozy?

I'm thinking these are perfect stocking stuffers. (heh) I have mastered the iPod cozy so I feel confident in my abilities to create some yarny goodness in which you can store your most precious of preciousness.

Goin' Back to Cali

Tonight I wake up at 2:00 a.m. to get ready to go to Miami. Boo and I have a 6:00 a.m. flight. Just typing this has loosened my bowels. In any event, in the next few days I plan to ...

... drink copious amounts of liquor from 1958
... pretend this is not Thanksgiving
... knit a sleeve and a half
... watch some football
... smack a ho'
... go to the mall for Black Friday
... sit on the beach
... sit in the Orange Bowl

I'll let you know if I meet my goals (and yes, I'll make sure to wear natural fibers so that if we have issues on the plane, the synthetic fibers will not melt to my flesh!?!)

Cinqo De ... Sleeveo

Well folks, here in the land of anal-retentive (is there a hyphen in there?), sleeve five is coming along swimmingly. It fits, and honestly, that is gonna have to be good enough. That little extra halo caused by the repeated ripping that now emanates from the sleeve and makes me twitch a little; it's a bonus. Right? Right!

Speaking of bonus, um, or not, I saw the My Life. My Blog entry over at Cara's and decided I had to do my own. The only problem is that my office = ghetto. In the ghetto, scanner = p.o.s. So, when I scanned my bad boy in, I lost the pretty green color of the ink that I used, many of the dots that made up the lines, the overall straightness of the thing, and the clean crispness that only an original has. Honestly, the scanner turned this into something that looks like it has been ridden hard and hung up wet. But that didn't deter me. Nobody puts Baby in the corner. Um, what the hell am I talking about? I dunno.

Avoid the clap - Jimmy Dugan

I have midget arms. Have I told you that before? No? Well, I do. I mean, I don't look like I have freakishly disproportionately short arms, but they seem a little short. Most times my sleeves, they're a little long. So, when I set out to knit the never-ending-sweater, I thought about my mini-me arms and I assumed that the sleeves would be a little no-nunthin'. Something I could knock out in a day. And you know what? As it turns out, I can knit FOUR long-sleeve sleeves in a day. Yes four. This would be great if I was knitting two sweaters. Or, if I was Siamese twins. But for me, for now? Not so good. Ya see, yesterday, I set out to create a sleeve or two. And I did, I knitted four. Four beautiful, too small sleeves. I knit the first sleeve up to the armpit before trying it on. It was beautiful. And, it fit just fine, for paint. The second sleeve? Up to the fattest part of the upper arm, this one fit great too, for a long john. The third time, I got a little smarter, I only went up to the elbow. It was also a great fit, for a cast. I am on to number four, having totally re-written the sleeve pattern. Had I given any thought to the pattern and the fact that I had to adjust the math to make "the girls" fit, I would have continued the adjusting for the arm width. But I figured short arms = pattern just right. Wrong. Short big arms = pattern + math. I did try to keep my brain peacefully numb during all this sleeve knitting with a whole of lot of Law & Order, some football, a little Dragonheart, and a smattering of 60 Minutes. It seemed to have worked as I was not screaming hysterically or bleeding from the eyes. In fact, I was fine until this afternoon* when I took a look at the fourth sleeve - the one that is a little looser that I'd like but better than the rest so screw it I am marching forward. That sleeve. Took a little look and I am not liking it. I think the increases look bad and the shape is odd.

Exhibit A:


Exhibit B:


So, I am now going to rip out sleeve four and go for number five. Have I mentioned that five is my favorite number? Let's hope it is my lucky number too!

* Boo might challenge this whole "I was fine thing." Last night when he came to bed, I was already asleep. Had been for hours. Nonetheless, I told him to avoid the clap and then I inquired about Cat's location - in Spanish. Maybe the stress of the sleeve knitting did get to me after all.

Two Things

FIRST

Lawyer Argues Sex With Dead Deer Not Crime.

I'm going to let you make your own jokes on this one as I am sure they are much better than mine. I will say though, that it is cases like this that make me wish I was a criminal attorney. I'm not sure that I could argue that it is fine to have sex with animals so long as they are dead with a straight face, but man would I like to try!

ETA: Apparently this story is making the rounds on the internet and has been picked up by The Smoking Gun. If The Duluth News Tribune link above is busy or wonky, you can read about it here, on The Smoking Gun.

SECOND (and more importantly)

When I got home today* I saw this:



After performing a little surgery, I saw this:


(Not the knife part. That was all me and my feeble attempts to beat the tape. Holy crap was that some strong tape!)

Then, I got to this:



Yeah! My Secret Pal rocks! Thank you! For you non-knittsy types, that is some hand spun, hand dyed goodness. It is nice and sproingy (is this a word? if not it should be) and I love the colors. In fact I have some Blue Heron scarf yarn that has a similar color way and will look really nice with it - not too matchy, just right. And Justin Timberlake! I have high hopes for this album.** I can't wait to fire up some JT and get to knitting. Oh, and um, in case you were wondering, there may be a few less M&M's in there than were originally shipped. I needed some protein to muster the energy for the photoshoot. Peanut M&Ms = peanuts = protein. Shut it!

* This was actually written last night but then Blogger went all wonky and it wouldn't upload. So by today, I really mean yesterday.

** I actually got to listen to the entire album last night (after I typed the post which Blogger rejected) and I LOVE IT! It is one of those rare albums where I listened to every song and never skipped ahead (though to be honest, I almost skipped SexyBack because I have listened to that oh, a gazillion times, but then it pulled me in and I was singing and then next thing you know I was on to song three). And, speaking of great music, a big fat thank you to TWG for lending me Citizen Cope's new album Every Waking Moment. Love it! I now have lots of cool new music. BUT, you should know that those these albums are great and I recommend them wholeheartedly, they are in no way appropriate for romancing or getting your freak on with the local wildlife population ... whether said wildlife is dead or alive.

I Knew It!

What American accent do you have? Your Result: The Midland "You have a Midland accent" is just another way of saying "you don't have an accent." You probably are from the Midland (Pennsylvania, southern Ohio, southern Indiana, southern Illinois, and Missouri) but then for all we know you could be from Florida or Charleston or one of those big southern cities like Atlanta or Dallas. You have a good voice for TV and radio.
The South
Philadelphia
The Inland North
The Northeast
The West
Boston
North Central
What American accent do you have? Take More Quizzes

See, y'all! I don't have a Southern accent. You're hearing things! You are not, however, seeing things. At least not things in the form of knitting. I have been working on the never-ending-sweater. The sweater that could clothe an entire army. THAT sweater. I have the entire back finished and 90% of the front is done too. For the record, each "body" part, that is the portion from the bottom to where the arm holes start has 10,560 stitches. I had to count the rows to make sure they line up for seaming - I'm not actually some crazy math girl (in fact I am quite the opposite, a somewhat crazy NON-math girl who needs to use the fingers and toes of her tablemates in order to figure out the tip at a restaurant which is why any and all math calculations relating to my sweater have been performed by someone other than me). In any event, I am thinking that my sweater is at about 30,000 stitches thus far. THAT IS A LOT!

I think the sleeves should be pretty quick and easy. Mentally I equate them to a pair of socks. Really long full socks. But socks all the same. It may be delusional, or silly, but as soon as I finish my neck hole, I am going to take a break and go back to the wrap thing I started in a Oh-Good-God-If-I-Have-To-Look-At-Another-Rust-Colored-Knit-Stitch-I-May-Start-Bleeding-From-The-Eyes moment.

The wrap thing is the most yum-o-rific yarn - silk and mohair, need I say more?



I bought it when I finished my sock class in a moment of weakness. Evey time I would leave the class I would walk by and touch it and whisper to it. Sometimes it would whisper back. Spendy would pray that it would be there the next time I was in so that I could snatch it up. Thrifty would pray that it had found some other home. I had been good about not buying it until I went back to the shop to ask about the casting off the sock business. I saw it again and I must have whimpered because the shop owner, she snared me. She happened to have a one skein wrap pattern that was written FOR THAT EXACT YARN right there and she would give it to me FOR FREE, if I wanted the yarn. So, I decided that it really wasn't that expensive since I only needed one skein AND I was getting a pattern for FREE; it was practical. I only needed the one skein and I could be in soft yummy bliss. EXCEPT, once I started working on it, it was too narrow, more scarf than wrap. I was not thrilled. I played with it and made different shapes and patterns and was unhappy and then one thing led to another and I have since purchased another skein. I think there was some rationalization, or maybe just some crazy, because I convinced myself that I really should make the wrap the way I liked it since the yarn was so nice and expensive - to do otherwise would be a waste - so, really, I should spend more money and get more yarn since I was already in the hole and God I can't even type this without cringing at my own insanity. And, as if I wasn't insane enough to buy another skein of the silk yummy, I also bought the same colorway in the sock yarn. What the hell? There must be pheromones in that yarn or something. In my own defense, I will say that other people love this colorway too.

Oh, and as to the goodies in the bag from the great blue seductress:



It's the "Venetian Link Bracelet." I feel very worldly. Venice is in Italy. It is like I went to Italy, only, I never had to leave and I didn't get jet lag and I didn't have to buy a English/Italian dictionary. I also didn't get any authentic Italian food (though I hear that pasta is actually Chinese in origin?!?) which is a bit of a bummer.

I don't have any of my own pictures of either my bracelet or my yarn so I have borrowed these ones from their makers. I may get some shit for this (although my use is not for profit so really, I am quite harmless) if said makers find my little blog with their pictures on it but that is ok because today, I am all about the shit. Well not shit in the literal sense, more metaphorical.

Yes, this is where I start to talk about my septic system - again. Only not the system so much as the wack job neighbor who called my house a 6:30 in the A friggin M to talk about septic systems, sewer lines and such. We have a neighbor, well a lady who is 70 if a day, who we refer to as "the old lady in the black house," who lives on our street. She has the most beautiful yard despite the fact that her house, it is black. People, her lawn will bring a tear to your eye it is so nice. Now neither Boo nor I have met her, but I have waved at her army of lawn men when they are out doing their thing and, I have waved at her when I see her outside forcefully removing that one blade of grass that is not of the sheer perfection of the others. Now based on the repeated waves, I had no idea that she was wackadoodle. But this morning she called my house at six thirty in the morning. Wackadoodle. Case closed.

Ms. Wackadoodle, she called to apologize for never coming over to introduce herself and she just wanted to mention that she doesn't want a sewer line. Um, pardon? You want to introduce yourself at 6:30 a.m., over the phone - and how in the hell did you get my phone number anyway - two freaking years after we moved in? And, not only that, you want to let us know that you don't want a sewer line, just in case, you know, we had a hankering to go out and, um, put one in your yard? Wackadoodle says she doesn't want a sewer line because when they put it in they DIG! IN YOUR YARD! Heaven forbid! Digging! In the yard! Oh, also, Wackadoodle "knows" that our septic system is "top of the line." Is there really a rating system for this type of thing? Can you save some bucks and get a mid-level septic system? Does she have septic system envy, or is she just trying to butter us up with flattery? If so, it totally backfired. You called my house so early that IT WAS STILL DARK OUTSIDE to tell me you don't want a sewer line put in our street? If I didn't want a sewer line before I sure as hell do now because YOU JUST CALLED ME AT 6:30AM!

Seductress

When Tiffany & Co. does this in its display:



I end up with this in my hot little hands:



Can you say kismet?

Hoping For St. Nick

Blah Blah Blah and the stockings were hung by the chimney with care. Well, it is a bit early for that. Unless you are in the mall, in which case, Christmas seems to be like, oh, tomorrow, so buy stuff NOW, NOW, NOW! And speaking of premature C'mas stuff, what the hell happened to Thanksgiving? We had Halloween and C'mas stuff in the stores at the same time, but T'giving? Nada. In my effort to accumulate more stuff that will only have limited use and end up taking up space in the basement for the majority of its life span, I decided that I wanted a large, cute but nice, turkey cookie jar to place in the middle of the dining room table. An objet d'art if you will. It was one week post-Halloween and I was looking for this turkey o' mine at the Target. Ha! Turkeys? They don't need no stinking turkeys! You want some turkey decor for T'giving? You must craft it yourself. Can you imagine? Picture a huge knitted turkey cookie jar, in acrylic of course. The thought of this is making me twitch. Violently. Please forgive any typos.

I seem to have distracted myself, go figure. In any event, the Mc Scratchy twins, they're done! Finally.



As you can see, they are more fraternal than identical, but they look like a pair so I'm not complaining. Much. I mean, one month for one pair of socks? Yowsers! They still are a little scratchy (and now completely covered in both cat and dog hair after the photo shoot) but not so much that I won't wear them at least once before I wash them (like um, today, and so far, quite nice on the feet). I have decided I do really like the colorway, despite the peach. I also just learned that the colorway was designed by a famous artist, Hundertwasser. Am I fancy or what? For the last month or so, I didn't realize that the label was telling me this. It is all in Not-English and so I have no idea what the hell it says. I know. I know. Egotistical American only knows English, but even my five years of French classes and umpteen years of Miami Spanish ain't helping out a bit. In any event, the socks are a winner, despite my incessant moaning and groaning.



Yarn: Opal Hundertwassers, color: 956 Seeschlange, farbe(??): 1436, partie(??): 12, 1 skein
Needles: Knit Picks DPN, size 1
Pattern: Jaywalker
Time: 1 month
Care: Machine wash, no tumble dry, no bleach, iron on low (this one is especially important because I LOVE to iron socks), drycleanable with anything BUT trichloroethylene, and some other thing which I have no idea what it means but makes me think that this yarn is not appropriate for scuba diving. Yah, yah, I had to look up the symbols on my Not-English label to figure out most of them out, well all of them. All of them but the unknown possibly no-scuba-diving one. That was is not on the internet. Hrmph!

Birthdays Abound

Let's take a moment to honor the recipe creating ability of Nigella Lawson and the baking ability of Beatrix which, when they converge, make FABULOUS results. Yesterday was Beatrix' son's birthday and she brought a few cupcakes to our SnB gathering. Not only were they great tasting and great looking, they matched my knitting. I knew this was a sign that the cupcake and I were meant to be.

Yesterday was also Baby Girl's first birthday and we decided to throw her a surprise party. By "surprise party" what I mean is that Boo and I (um, really just me) wanted cake (I was unaware that I was going to be making love to enjoying the chocolate cherry cupcake of goodness), so we used this as a convenient excuse. The surprise factor was mostly there so that if we failed to actually get a cake, well then, she couldn't be disappointed by the lack of party now could she? Anywho, let me tell you, she was THRILLED.



NOT! (Yes, I am a child of the 80's/90's. Want to borrow my Z. Cavariccis?) And Cat, he was no better; he wouldn't even get out of bed to come celebrate. If you ever want to insure that your animals are NOT in that party spirit, place a cheap party hat on their heads and take pictures. Oh, and make sure to use the string part to hold the hat on so it won't tip off of the head easily.

We did manage to buy an ice cream cake (and by we I mean Boo, because hello, I suck at this whole birthday party planning thing), so the party was on. I figured that I would have to snap the picture of Baby Girl and her cake toute suite because she would eat it if I was not careful. WRONG! Baby Girl RAN from the cake; she cowered in the corner and stared at it with fear and loathing. What the hell? I didn't even place any candles on it. How is this possible? Um, someone needs to tell her she is a dog and thus by default should want to eat EVERYTHING. Cat was curious but even he didn't get too close.

Cheater

Have y'all heard about NaNoWriMo or NaBloPoMo? No, well, it doesn't really matter. It is just that they led to NaKniSweMo, a Knit-A-Sweater-In-A-Month knit-along and I am soooo gonna do this. But I am cheating. You see, I am already taking a sweater class and have already started my very first sweater, so technically, I might not meet the exact parameters of NaKniSweMo, but that is okay. I'm in. Um, assuming they'll take me. Ha!



And, in unrelated news, I have been told that the kitty is not getting equal face time here on The Blog and that it isn't right. There have been talks of unionizing. Me? Not a lover of the union. (Sorry Joan! Love you though!) So, to squash these ridiculous talks of organization, I present you with ...

"Cat, the Bookmarker"*




* That is bookmaRKer not bookmaKEr. I am the bookmaker, not Cat. You want the Jets on the under for $500? No problem! Just kidding. There is no gambling here. Gambling is illegal and thus betting will not be tolerated. Unless you wanna play the lottery. That is ok.

Just Do It!

I don't know if y'all have heard, but today, it's midterm election day! I know, someone should really put up an ad, or send you a letter, or maybe even call you to let you know that you should vote today. Silly candidates, all sly and stuff. Heh! Actually, if your household is anything like Chez South Park, you have today marked on your calendar, not as a reminder to vote but to celebrate the return of the "regular" commercial; to celebrate the lone message on your answering machine; and, to celebrate the mail actually fitting in your mailbox.

It has been pointed out to me that my blog may be misnamed as I babble on about many things other than politics. And this is true. I try to keep my thoughts to myself because enough people don't like me as it is, and really, it can be hard to make friends as an adult. No need to insight you to throw things at me! In any event, I do believe that you should vote if your eligible, even if your vote is dumb and for the totally wrong candidate. So go, vote, if for no other reason than to cancel out my vote (and to get a good laugh at the man in the voting line behind you who takes his index card that the voter-registration-checkers gave to him and holds it up to his breast as if to give himself a huge, square, canary yellow, ruled nipple and caresses himself with it while making odd gurgling giggling noises).