1) I like silly bandz. I bought some on a lark for LB and decided to give her one when she did something good on her own and without my pleading. On a good day she would end up with five or six of them which, at the end of the day, I would take back so that I could start again on the next day. This worked out until she started breaking and losing them and I kind of decided that I liked them. Now we are running out and I don't have enough for her or for me. Which makes me sad. Yes, I am sad because I only have a few of my two year daughter's animal shaped rubber bands left to wear on my wrist. Can you say loser?
2) I have a kitchen in my garage. Well not a functioning one. And, not one with appliances. Fine, I have a bunch of kitchen cabinets and some granite counter tops in my garage. Some how when everything was stored, the island was stored properly, which is to say it is a functioning island with cabinets and a top. A functioning island that now has two days worth of mail and six bottles of soda sitting on it. My point: an island is rather useful in the garage.
3) I have reknit my short-row heel and made it larger. I like it enough that I have started the second heel.
4) I have also started a garden. I PLANTED STUFF IN THE GROUND. WHERE BUGS LIVE. Mind you the majority of my garden consists of herbs in containers. But still, there are some chives, basil, parsley and oregano IN THE BUG FILLED GROUND.
5) TD seems to have mastered the art of sitting up. Mere hours after we were at her pediatrician's and I stated that she in fact could not sit up for squat. Note I also stated she couldn't eat food. She made sure I knew this statement was one hundred percent true as she took her first ever bite of banana, spit it out, and then projectile vomited on me. A lot.
6) There are twenty-one episodes of Law and Order in my DVR. Every single one of them is from 1994 or earlier and has Michael Moriarty as the prosecutor. I watched those shows when they were first shown and thought they were great. Now I watch them and think they are great, yet dated. Stuff from my teenage years feels dated. HOLY FUCK.
Showing posts with label television. Show all posts
Showing posts with label television. Show all posts
Monday, May 17, 2010
Monday, May 10, 2010
Vexed
Still working on my socks and I feel as if my short row heel is ... too short?
It just feels small and I don't like it which means I need to rip it out and do it over. Of course, I won't have hotty hot hot Tom Selleck as Jesse Stone to watch and get me through which is a total bummer.
Also a bummer? Revlon Cherry Pop nail polish. Painted the nails yesterday afternoon and woke to small chips this morning. Shame on you Revlon!
It just feels small and I don't like it which means I need to rip it out and do it over. Of course, I won't have hotty hot hot Tom Selleck as Jesse Stone to watch and get me through which is a total bummer.
Also a bummer? Revlon Cherry Pop nail polish. Painted the nails yesterday afternoon and woke to small chips this morning. Shame on you Revlon!
Saturday, January 02, 2010
Pervy
I am a total Law & Order junkie. So, when I found rebroadcasts of the old Old OLD seasons (circa Michael Moriarty as ADA Ben Stone), I DVRed the episodes and booked a date with my husband. It was while watching one of these episodes, one from 1991, when Jerry Orbach appeared as a defense attorney!?!, that we had the following conversation.
ME: Hey! Edward Cullen. That is the name of the vampire from Twilight.
HUSBAND: [silence]
ME: You know ... Team Edward? Team Jacob? I like Jacob the werewolf but the vampire, Team Edward, is named Edward Cullen. L&O was ahead of its time using the name Edward Cullen for a character.
HUSBAND: Uh huh. How does it make you feel to know that you were ogling someone who wasn't even born yet when this episode aired?
ME: Jacob is 17 ...
HUSBAND: Right, and 1991 was eighteen, nineteen years ago. So I ask again, how does feel to know that you were ogling a kid who wasn't even born when this episode aired?
ME: Like a dude.
ME: Hey! Edward Cullen. That is the name of the vampire from Twilight.
HUSBAND: [silence]
ME: You know ... Team Edward? Team Jacob? I like Jacob the werewolf but the vampire, Team Edward, is named Edward Cullen. L&O was ahead of its time using the name Edward Cullen for a character.
HUSBAND: Uh huh. How does it make you feel to know that you were ogling someone who wasn't even born yet when this episode aired?
ME: Jacob is 17 ...
HUSBAND: Right, and 1991 was eighteen, nineteen years ago. So I ask again, how does feel to know that you were ogling a kid who wasn't even born when this episode aired?
ME: Like a dude.
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
Identification
There is this show called Better Off Ted that the world's best invention (electricity schmectricity), the DVR, records for me. I do believe I am the only person that watches this show as I have never seen a commercial for it, nor have I heard anyone talk about it. Which is a shame because I really enjoy it and my history indicates that even if people were talking about it or there were commericals for it, it would probably be on the verge of cancellation anyway. So. The whole reason I mention Ted is that there was a great seen where Veronica (played by I-Have-Gorgeous-Hair-Portia-de-Rossi) blows off stress in her office by pulling out some big ass hand gun, attaching a silencer, and then shooting the shit out of a throw pillow. Dudes. I totally get it. I, many a time, both as a lawyer and as a mom, have totally wanted to shoot the shit out of a pillow.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Gimme That!
Another year, another successful SnB holiday party/swap.
Only ... new! And improved! With more snow! And more swapping! Seriously. Last year there was no threat of death by steep snowy driveway. Which as the owner of the driveway and a lawyer, I found EXTREMELY comforting. This year, not so much. We got more than a dusting of snow during the party. Enough that I held my breath and chanted "Good Driveway Karma! Good Driveway Karma!" over and over again until every last person left. It seems to have worked. No one fell and I wasn't greeted by a marshal and a summons at my door this morning. I consider this a huge success and another point in favor of invoking karma when need be. For those of you that don't know, one of my law school ladies would chant "Good Parking Karma" over and over as she pulled into a parking lot and inevitably she'd get great parking spots. It was crazy, but I tried it and it worked! You can't invoke the Good Whatever Karma all of the time, but if you use it sparingly, it really does work. I now sound like some new age freak. I'm okay with it. The Good Driveway Karma might have also been helped along by the fact that I forgot to buy some wine. I'm going to assume that it was a fortuitous oversight and not a hostess mishap and move on!
So our swap is of the "Yankee Style" which means you can steal the gifts of the people who have gone before you. None of the Northerners seem to see the slight in the "Yankee" label, so sayeth this very amused Southerner. But whatever, it is great fun. Last year we only had one person loose her gift. Granted, she lost gifts three different times, but she was the only loser. Ironically, she is the only one who didn't lose a gift this year.
Last year's lack of serious swapping made it easy for me to photograph. This year, not so easy. I have forty-four pictures of people losing their gifts and taking another gift only to lose that gift too. I can't figure out who lost what. I know I missed a few picture opps which means that somehow thirteen people swapped gifts about fifty times. There were turns that took ten minutes because there was so much swapping and grabbing going on. It was bedlam.
I will admit to being one of the people who contributed to the bedlam.
+ 
= a diabolical sushi deprived pregnant woman on a mission
Or rather, a diabolical sushi deprived pregnant woman on a mission to corrupt others to do her bidding! In other words, I created of the Triumvirate of Evil. A triumvirate whose sole purpose was to ensure that its three members got the gifts they wanted when all was said and done. Some might say this wasn't very sporting. I say, pushaw! Cheaters never prosper, but schemers do!
In my defense, I was destined to have the present that I wanted. We were like star crossed lovers. Being preggers I can't have sushi. I LOVE sushi. The lack of sushi in my life makes me sad. And irritable. So, being a bitch, I declared all sushi banned from the party. Well someone was a smart ass and figure out a way around my declaration and the ban and my sushi deprived brain said MUST HAVE! Not only was the wrapping paper me, me, me. The book and the serving dish were too! Speaking of dishes, I again forgot to take a "before" food picture for BeFri, so I only have one of the carnage.
This year I wised up and used paper plates and cups. The china is sturdier and much prettier but the hand washing part is way suckier. I didn't have the pleasure of pain pills this year as an excuse to get my husband to do all of the dishes, so I made sure there were a lot less.
When all was said and done, a fun evening was had. I cleaned up and Cat reclaimed the living room as his personal domain.
My husband helped with the clean-up, but I still ended up going to bed hours after my bed time. In fact, I am so tired that I told my husband this morning that I was the tiredest person the WHOLE WIDE WORLD. And you know what he said? He said, "Baby, I am so sorry. Why don't we both leave work now and meet at home so I can rub your feet until you slide into blissful slumber." Actually that is not at all what he said. It was more like, "Dexter, tonight, 7pm, no excuses." Fucking Dexter. I love that show but it was getting too good. Each episode was giving me arrhythmia. I convinced Boo to wait until we had the final two episodes DVRd and could watch them at once. I figured it would be easier on my adrenal system, kind of shoot my adrenalin wad all at one time and be done with it. It was a great idea until now, when Dexter is DVRd and looming over my head. I'm totally going to have to take a nap.
Which I won't be able to do under my desk this afternoon (goddammit!) since we just had our office holiday lunch and people want to ... socialize. Unlike years past, no one seemed to throw a fit during this holiday lunch. In fact, I'll go out on a limb here and say that this was the best holiday lunch we've had thus far. There were several incidents of people trying to insulate the food and utensils from Mr. Smellypants and for the most part they were successful. He never coughed on the food or licked something and put it back. So yeah office lunch!
And, not apropos to anything else ... Funniest line of last evening: Why does A. have a Pooh hanging from her butt?
>
Only ... new! And improved! With more snow! And more swapping! Seriously. Last year there was no threat of death by steep snowy driveway. Which as the owner of the driveway and a lawyer, I found EXTREMELY comforting. This year, not so much. We got more than a dusting of snow during the party. Enough that I held my breath and chanted "Good Driveway Karma! Good Driveway Karma!" over and over again until every last person left. It seems to have worked. No one fell and I wasn't greeted by a marshal and a summons at my door this morning. I consider this a huge success and another point in favor of invoking karma when need be. For those of you that don't know, one of my law school ladies would chant "Good Parking Karma" over and over as she pulled into a parking lot and inevitably she'd get great parking spots. It was crazy, but I tried it and it worked! You can't invoke the Good Whatever Karma all of the time, but if you use it sparingly, it really does work. I now sound like some new age freak. I'm okay with it. The Good Driveway Karma might have also been helped along by the fact that I forgot to buy some wine. I'm going to assume that it was a fortuitous oversight and not a hostess mishap and move on!
So our swap is of the "Yankee Style" which means you can steal the gifts of the people who have gone before you. None of the Northerners seem to see the slight in the "Yankee" label, so sayeth this very amused Southerner. But whatever, it is great fun. Last year we only had one person loose her gift. Granted, she lost gifts three different times, but she was the only loser. Ironically, she is the only one who didn't lose a gift this year.
Last year's lack of serious swapping made it easy for me to photograph. This year, not so easy. I have forty-four pictures of people losing their gifts and taking another gift only to lose that gift too. I can't figure out who lost what. I know I missed a few picture opps which means that somehow thirteen people swapped gifts about fifty times. There were turns that took ten minutes because there was so much swapping and grabbing going on. It was bedlam.
I will admit to being one of the people who contributed to the bedlam.
+ 
= a diabolical sushi deprived pregnant woman on a mission
Or rather, a diabolical sushi deprived pregnant woman on a mission to corrupt others to do her bidding! In other words, I created of the Triumvirate of Evil. A triumvirate whose sole purpose was to ensure that its three members got the gifts they wanted when all was said and done. Some might say this wasn't very sporting. I say, pushaw! Cheaters never prosper, but schemers do!
In my defense, I was destined to have the present that I wanted. We were like star crossed lovers. Being preggers I can't have sushi. I LOVE sushi. The lack of sushi in my life makes me sad. And irritable. So, being a bitch, I declared all sushi banned from the party. Well someone was a smart ass and figure out a way around my declaration and the ban and my sushi deprived brain said MUST HAVE! Not only was the wrapping paper me, me, me. The book and the serving dish were too! Speaking of dishes, I again forgot to take a "before" food picture for BeFri, so I only have one of the carnage.
This year I wised up and used paper plates and cups. The china is sturdier and much prettier but the hand washing part is way suckier. I didn't have the pleasure of pain pills this year as an excuse to get my husband to do all of the dishes, so I made sure there were a lot less.
When all was said and done, a fun evening was had. I cleaned up and Cat reclaimed the living room as his personal domain.
My husband helped with the clean-up, but I still ended up going to bed hours after my bed time. In fact, I am so tired that I told my husband this morning that I was the tiredest person the WHOLE WIDE WORLD. And you know what he said? He said, "Baby, I am so sorry. Why don't we both leave work now and meet at home so I can rub your feet until you slide into blissful slumber." Actually that is not at all what he said. It was more like, "Dexter, tonight, 7pm, no excuses." Fucking Dexter. I love that show but it was getting too good. Each episode was giving me arrhythmia. I convinced Boo to wait until we had the final two episodes DVRd and could watch them at once. I figured it would be easier on my adrenal system, kind of shoot my adrenalin wad all at one time and be done with it. It was a great idea until now, when Dexter is DVRd and looming over my head. I'm totally going to have to take a nap.
Which I won't be able to do under my desk this afternoon (goddammit!) since we just had our office holiday lunch and people want to ... socialize. Unlike years past, no one seemed to throw a fit during this holiday lunch. In fact, I'll go out on a limb here and say that this was the best holiday lunch we've had thus far. There were several incidents of people trying to insulate the food and utensils from Mr. Smellypants and for the most part they were successful. He never coughed on the food or licked something and put it back. So yeah office lunch!
And, not apropos to anything else ... Funniest line of last evening: Why does A. have a Pooh hanging from her butt?
>Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Apple Season Cometh
Last night I managed to knit ten whole rows on the sweater of slowness. For all intents and purposes, it might as well have been ten stitches. Progress, it remains unnoticeable. Anywho, all of this wild and crazy knitting kept me up to the unholy hour of 11:00 p.m., well the knitting and the new season opener of Heroes chilling on the DVR. And also Journeyman, because I am a sucker for new shows and enjoy watching the pilots. And, speaking of Heroes, how is it that none of the people who died last season are really dead? I digress though, all of my wild and crazy knitting kept me up to the unholy hour of 11:00 p.m., a full hour later than my naturally prescribed bed time, and I find my self somewhat zombie like this morning.
Which brings me to my point, in a rather round about and not so direct way: the apples. As you probably don't remember, I don't like apples. Mr. Cool forgets this and tends to bring me some every day during apple picking season. And because I like Mr. Cool, and I don't want to hurt his feelings or feel like a hair turd, I smuggle the apples out of the office and try to force my husband to eat them. Every now and then I am forced to eat one because I want Mr. Cool to see me eat the apple and know that I am grateful. And yes, I realize this is totally fuked up and that I probably need psychiatric help, but there you have it, I eat apples that I hate to make someone I like think I am grateful for something I don't like. Is there a name for this disorder?
Anyway, I strayed from my point, again. My point is, I was so damn tired this morning I somehow talked my way from one apple into four. Yes, four, cuatro, quatre, quattro, vier, четыре.
Are you kidding me? I'm not quite sure how this happened. Maybe if I hadn't given up caffeine, I would have seen it coming, tired or not. I dunno. What I do know is that I've got four different varieties and flavors and sizes of apples and Jizzy Fricken Crizzy HOW AM I GOING TO EAT (OR SMUGGLE OUT) FOUR APPLES?
Which brings me to my point, in a rather round about and not so direct way: the apples. As you probably don't remember, I don't like apples. Mr. Cool forgets this and tends to bring me some every day during apple picking season. And because I like Mr. Cool, and I don't want to hurt his feelings or feel like a hair turd, I smuggle the apples out of the office and try to force my husband to eat them. Every now and then I am forced to eat one because I want Mr. Cool to see me eat the apple and know that I am grateful. And yes, I realize this is totally fuked up and that I probably need psychiatric help, but there you have it, I eat apples that I hate to make someone I like think I am grateful for something I don't like. Is there a name for this disorder?
Anyway, I strayed from my point, again. My point is, I was so damn tired this morning I somehow talked my way from one apple into four. Yes, four, cuatro, quatre, quattro, vier, четыре.
Are you kidding me? I'm not quite sure how this happened. Maybe if I hadn't given up caffeine, I would have seen it coming, tired or not. I dunno. What I do know is that I've got four different varieties and flavors and sizes of apples and Jizzy Fricken Crizzy HOW AM I GOING TO EAT (OR SMUGGLE OUT) FOUR APPLES?
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Nuthin' Doin'
I've been busy cranking away on my Kangaroo Duo, which sounds like I should have a bunch of progress to show you. But eh, not so much. I'm still not even ready to join my pocket to my front. But I have a goal. My goal is to finish this sweater in time to wear to Rhinebeck. It will be my very first Rhinebeck Sweater. In years past it seemed the internet was full of people knitting 'Rhinebeck Sweaters.' I've started to hear some rumblings again, and have even seen a really cute sweater ready for this year, so I figured, why not join the masses. Maybe if I have a goal, I can crank out this sweater (knit stupidly on US4, 3.5mm, teeny tiny needles) sometime before I die. So I shall toil away on it until I finish, and not go yarn shopping for Clapotis, which makes me very sad.
To help me reach my goal, I've been knitting while I watch the boob tube. The husband and I were searching for a new show since nothing good has been on and since yet another show we liked was not picked up. Some internet surfing led me to Dexter and the husband approved, which was great since I didn't have a back up plan. So $13 later, we were Showtime subscribers on our way to Miami with a serial killer. I was a little leery at first because I'd look at Dexter and see David but kudos to Michael C. Hall for putting that to an end real quick. Let me tell you, Dexter is a great show and I totally recommend it. Through the miracle of OnDemand in about two weeks we were able to enjoy season one. Immensely. But the last few episodes, man, they had me hiding behind a pillow and cringing and squirming and doing many things other than knitting. That show built some tension. Some major I'm-scared-and-don't-want-to-look-but-I-have-to-but-no-oh-god-what's-happening-I-can't-stand-this type tension. So in summary, Dexter = good for watching, bad for knitting.
And, not related to anything else mentioned above, Rebecca nominated me for Rockin' Girl Blogger which is both very nice and somewhat confusing since I see myself as more dork than rockin'. I mean I talk like a fucking rock star, fuckin-a I do, but otherwise ... I dunno. I'm flattered, thanks Rebecca!
As for my nominees, here are a few ladies whose blogs I enjoy, none of whom I've met in person, and none of whom have offered me any money for said nominations ... Barb P, Nicole, and Susan. Not that I'm not totally open to bribery - if you'd like to pay me for a nomination, we can talk!
To help me reach my goal, I've been knitting while I watch the boob tube. The husband and I were searching for a new show since nothing good has been on and since yet another show we liked was not picked up. Some internet surfing led me to Dexter and the husband approved, which was great since I didn't have a back up plan. So $13 later, we were Showtime subscribers on our way to Miami with a serial killer. I was a little leery at first because I'd look at Dexter and see David but kudos to Michael C. Hall for putting that to an end real quick. Let me tell you, Dexter is a great show and I totally recommend it. Through the miracle of OnDemand in about two weeks we were able to enjoy season one. Immensely. But the last few episodes, man, they had me hiding behind a pillow and cringing and squirming and doing many things other than knitting. That show built some tension. Some major I'm-scared-and-don't-want-to-look-but-I-have-to-but-no-oh-god-what's-happening-I-can't-stand-this type tension. So in summary, Dexter = good for watching, bad for knitting.
And, not related to anything else mentioned above, Rebecca nominated me for Rockin' Girl Blogger which is both very nice and somewhat confusing since I see myself as more dork than rockin'. I mean I talk like a fucking rock star, fuckin-a I do, but otherwise ... I dunno. I'm flattered, thanks Rebecca!
As for my nominees, here are a few ladies whose blogs I enjoy, none of whom I've met in person, and none of whom have offered me any money for said nominations ... Barb P, Nicole, and Susan. Not that I'm not totally open to bribery - if you'd like to pay me for a nomination, we can talk!
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Things I Shouldn't Admit
It's not often that something totally tickles me to the point of idiocy. But I confess, John from Cincinnati has done this. Last night I was knitting while HBO rebroadcast Sunday's episode, an episode so awesome that: 1) it caused Boo and I to pause it several times and ask, "WTF?"; 2) it caused us to rewind bits because we were laughing and couldn't hear the show over our own guffaws; 3) it gave me a craving to listen to the some Morrissey; and, 4) it caused Boo and I to ask each other, "Do you get it? I don't think I get it. We better save it in case we need to watch it again. Did you say you got it?"
So anywho, good stuff on the ole boob tube last night. So good that I whipped out a post it note and wrote down some of the funny lines. That would be the idiocy part of the "tickling me to the point of idiocy." Because really, what am I trying to remember and why? If I ask, "What's your policy on guests smoking herb?" You are not going to say, "Not permitted!" You are not going to laugh knowingly (though I just totally cracked myself up here). No, you are going to either have me committed to Promises (Hi Britney! Hey Lindsay!) or tell me I have to share. If I tell you to, "Baptize that fucking pistol!" in my best infomercial voice, you're not going to spew soda from your nose because you are laughing so hard. You're going to step back a few feet. Slowly. Cautiously. So there you have it, me writing down funnies from a show that only one other person watches. Me, reaching an all new level of, um, me-ness.
Also, not related to anything other than me doing dumb things, yesterday Boo and I traded cars. But I seemed to have forgotten because last night I walked up to a black car and couldn't figure out why the remote was not unlocking the door. It took a few seconds for me to realize, "Hey! This is not my black car!" And then a few more seconds to realize, "Hey! We traded cars! I'm not even driving the black car, I'm driving the green one!" Then after I found my green car, and the remote still wasn't unlocking the door, I finally realized, "Hey! This remote is not for the green car!" Yah, yesterday was quite a day.
Notwithstanding my utter blond-oddballness, I did manage to get a few more rows done on my Wild Kat socks. The gusset is done and it is time to turn some heel. Hoo-YAH!
So anywho, good stuff on the ole boob tube last night. So good that I whipped out a post it note and wrote down some of the funny lines. That would be the idiocy part of the "tickling me to the point of idiocy." Because really, what am I trying to remember and why? If I ask, "What's your policy on guests smoking herb?" You are not going to say, "Not permitted!" You are not going to laugh knowingly (though I just totally cracked myself up here). No, you are going to either have me committed to Promises (Hi Britney! Hey Lindsay!) or tell me I have to share. If I tell you to, "Baptize that fucking pistol!" in my best infomercial voice, you're not going to spew soda from your nose because you are laughing so hard. You're going to step back a few feet. Slowly. Cautiously. So there you have it, me writing down funnies from a show that only one other person watches. Me, reaching an all new level of, um, me-ness.
Also, not related to anything other than me doing dumb things, yesterday Boo and I traded cars. But I seemed to have forgotten because last night I walked up to a black car and couldn't figure out why the remote was not unlocking the door. It took a few seconds for me to realize, "Hey! This is not my black car!" And then a few more seconds to realize, "Hey! We traded cars! I'm not even driving the black car, I'm driving the green one!" Then after I found my green car, and the remote still wasn't unlocking the door, I finally realized, "Hey! This remote is not for the green car!" Yah, yesterday was quite a day.
Notwithstanding my utter blond-oddballness, I did manage to get a few more rows done on my Wild Kat socks. The gusset is done and it is time to turn some heel. Hoo-YAH!
Monday, July 02, 2007
Surfing With My Monkeys?
I didn't finish the laundry, paint my toe nails, scrub the stove, or black top the driveway this weekend, but I did do something. Oh yes I did! I finished my
Pals' Monkeys during a John From Cincinnati marathon. And I'm not sure quite where to go with this. Do I tell you about the socks or the show? Because dude, that show is WEIRD! Wickey wackety, what the hell is happening, that may have been funny but I still don't get it, weird. We had DVR'd the show and this weekend and while the husband was away, I had a chance to watch all four hours of, um, what, I don't get it. Of course no one I know is watching this, and the husband hasn't had a chance to watch it yet, so I can't ask WHAT THE HELL? The show has made me laugh which may be because I am too dumb to get it, or it might really be funny, either way I am sticking with it and hope to get a handle on what is going on sometime soon. So I am confused by the show (and a little in love with Austin Nichols) and I have a real urge to go surfing, which in light of my natural ability (none), and despite the hours of surf lessons I took in Hawaii (I mean, shouldn't I be able to learn to surf there of all places?), is ridiculous. I should NOT be near a surf board unless I am using it as a raft to perfect my tan.
So, that is my take on John From Cincinnati, which could have been said in one sentence instead of a whole paragraph. To wit, I don't understand this show but I'm going to keep on watching because I heart John.
Even though I was stumped by the show, I was I able to complete the Monkeys. I am pleased with how they came out, and I hope my pal is too! The color in the the middle picture right above it pretty spot on, when you are close up. When you back away the color does change to something similar to the color in the first and last pictures. It's neat. The socks are a little loose on me so I believe they will fit my pal perfectly since her feet are a little bigger than mine. Please, oh please, let them fit! Let there be enough ease! Now I just need to pack them up all nice and pretty, wait for August 2, and hope that she likes them!
Yarn: Lorna Laces, Shepherd Sock, Color 302, Jungle Stripe
Needles: Addi Circs, size 2.5 mm (US 1)
Pattern: Monkey (modified to add eight more stitches)
Time: 20 days.
Care: Machine washable.
Pals' Monkeys during a John From Cincinnati marathon. And I'm not sure quite where to go with this. Do I tell you about the socks or the show? Because dude, that show is WEIRD! Wickey wackety, what the hell is happening, that may have been funny but I still don't get it, weird. We had DVR'd the show and this weekend and while the husband was away, I had a chance to watch all four hours of, um, what, I don't get it. Of course no one I know is watching this, and the husband hasn't had a chance to watch it yet, so I can't ask WHAT THE HELL? The show has made me laugh which may be because I am too dumb to get it, or it might really be funny, either way I am sticking with it and hope to get a handle on what is going on sometime soon. So I am confused by the show (and a little in love with Austin Nichols) and I have a real urge to go surfing, which in light of my natural ability (none), and despite the hours of surf lessons I took in Hawaii (I mean, shouldn't I be able to learn to surf there of all places?), is ridiculous. I should NOT be near a surf board unless I am using it as a raft to perfect my tan. So, that is my take on John From Cincinnati, which could have been said in one sentence instead of a whole paragraph. To wit, I don't understand this show but I'm going to keep on watching because I heart John.
Even though I was stumped by the show, I was I able to complete the Monkeys. I am pleased with how they came out, and I hope my pal is too! The color in the the middle picture right above it pretty spot on, when you are close up. When you back away the color does change to something similar to the color in the first and last pictures. It's neat. The socks are a little loose on me so I believe they will fit my pal perfectly since her feet are a little bigger than mine. Please, oh please, let them fit! Let there be enough ease! Now I just need to pack them up all nice and pretty, wait for August 2, and hope that she likes them!
Yarn: Lorna Laces, Shepherd Sock, Color 302, Jungle Stripe
Needles: Addi Circs, size 2.5 mm (US 1)
Pattern: Monkey (modified to add eight more stitches)
Time: 20 days.
Care: Machine washable.
Monday, April 09, 2007
Easter Funday
Yesterday was Easter, in case you somehow missed it. I've always had a bit of a love-hate relationship with the day. I mean I love me some chocolate and candy and sugary yumminess, but I hate that everything is closed. For like four years in a row, I found myself at the mall, staring at it in sadness, wondering why in the heck it was closed. There was an extra sense of absurdity as I would sit in the empty parking lot in that I never really went to the mall and the one day I did decide to go was one of the rare days that the place was closed.
Anywho this year, knowing in advance that the mall would not be an option, I made other plans. There was the whole sleeping in thing. Then there was a trip to the park with the husband and the dog. A trip to get some coffee. A plan to watch the brand new Sopranos and Entourage. Oh there was also dinner out. Somehow though, in my planning, I forgot to pencil in "being staked out by the police."* Odd how I missed that. You see, it turns out if two heathens have nothing better to do, and decide to go swing on swings or play on the jungle-gym, and the heathens are "adults" then the police get suspicious. They may first do a couple of drive-bys where the two cops in the car stare at the heathens, hoping to intimidate them off of the playground equipment. If that doesn't work, they may park their car, and stake out the heathens' locale. If the heathens move to a different part of the playground, the cops may move their car so that they can see better.
But don't worry, I, a heathen extraordinaire, did not let the police ruin my fun. No sirree. I swung on the swing (higher than Boo, go me!), I slid down the slide (having my hips wedge me into a sudden stop at the bend of the slide, not so fun, and slightly embarrassing having it happen in front of two cops and your husband), I teetered on the totter, and I even climbed a kid sized rock wall (which, in the future when I retell this story, will turn into a full adult sized rock wall which I scaled with skill and stamina that impressed even the cops who were observing my nefarious actions). I also went on this crazy ass thing that has no name that I know. It is a tall moving pole, that is bent, with a disk-platform thing that is about three feet off the ground. You stand on the disk-platform and your weight makes the pole swing mad crazy fast in circles and back and forth. Should you ever see one of these, you have to get on it. It is awesome. Be prepared for much (slightly hysterical) laughter, and maybe a head injury as you slam your noggin into the pole.
While at the park, but before we were on the police radar, we decided to take Dogbert for a walk. While we were walking we found a random tennis ball. Not one to let a great opportunity pass (despite the chance of the contracting the dreaded "biogerm" something Boo could not define but swore was bad and cause our dog to turn all mad cow), I decide to grab the ball and see if Dogarella would play fetch. Since she never plays with balls, and kind of sucks at the fetch thing, I didn't have high hopes. Turns out, however, that the biogerm makes fetching and chasing the tennis ball great fun. We even managed to wear her ass out:
* You'll also note that I did not plan on any knitting. I thought about it. But I'm at one of those times where I don't know what to do next. I gave up on the sideways socks (I'm convinced that that pattern will never work well for a normal human sized foot) and gave the yarn to my friend. Hopefully, for her sake, the hex is solely with the pattern and not with the yarn. I have the shawl that I dug out from last year that I finished. It just needs some tassels which I am putting off because tassel making? Ick. I have the kangaroo sweater, which I have done a few rows on every now and then. But that is it. I could get out the top down sweater, but it seems too hot for sweaters. That leaves socks. Which is great. But what sock? I can't seem to decide. I've looked at the Anastasia sock and the Mata Hari sock because I think either might do well with very variegated yarn, and women in my SnB are making or have made each, I like them both. But I can't decided. They kinda look a lot alike to my eye so maybe I just need to draw a name from a hat.
Anywho this year, knowing in advance that the mall would not be an option, I made other plans. There was the whole sleeping in thing. Then there was a trip to the park with the husband and the dog. A trip to get some coffee. A plan to watch the brand new Sopranos and Entourage. Oh there was also dinner out. Somehow though, in my planning, I forgot to pencil in "being staked out by the police."* Odd how I missed that. You see, it turns out if two heathens have nothing better to do, and decide to go swing on swings or play on the jungle-gym, and the heathens are "adults" then the police get suspicious. They may first do a couple of drive-bys where the two cops in the car stare at the heathens, hoping to intimidate them off of the playground equipment. If that doesn't work, they may park their car, and stake out the heathens' locale. If the heathens move to a different part of the playground, the cops may move their car so that they can see better.
But don't worry, I, a heathen extraordinaire, did not let the police ruin my fun. No sirree. I swung on the swing (higher than Boo, go me!), I slid down the slide (having my hips wedge me into a sudden stop at the bend of the slide, not so fun, and slightly embarrassing having it happen in front of two cops and your husband), I teetered on the totter, and I even climbed a kid sized rock wall (which, in the future when I retell this story, will turn into a full adult sized rock wall which I scaled with skill and stamina that impressed even the cops who were observing my nefarious actions). I also went on this crazy ass thing that has no name that I know. It is a tall moving pole, that is bent, with a disk-platform thing that is about three feet off the ground. You stand on the disk-platform and your weight makes the pole swing mad crazy fast in circles and back and forth. Should you ever see one of these, you have to get on it. It is awesome. Be prepared for much (slightly hysterical) laughter, and maybe a head injury as you slam your noggin into the pole.
While at the park, but before we were on the police radar, we decided to take Dogbert for a walk. While we were walking we found a random tennis ball. Not one to let a great opportunity pass (despite the chance of the contracting the dreaded "biogerm" something Boo could not define but swore was bad and cause our dog to turn all mad cow), I decide to grab the ball and see if Dogarella would play fetch. Since she never plays with balls, and kind of sucks at the fetch thing, I didn't have high hopes. Turns out, however, that the biogerm makes fetching and chasing the tennis ball great fun. We even managed to wear her ass out:
* You'll also note that I did not plan on any knitting. I thought about it. But I'm at one of those times where I don't know what to do next. I gave up on the sideways socks (I'm convinced that that pattern will never work well for a normal human sized foot) and gave the yarn to my friend. Hopefully, for her sake, the hex is solely with the pattern and not with the yarn. I have the shawl that I dug out from last year that I finished. It just needs some tassels which I am putting off because tassel making? Ick. I have the kangaroo sweater, which I have done a few rows on every now and then. But that is it. I could get out the top down sweater, but it seems too hot for sweaters. That leaves socks. Which is great. But what sock? I can't seem to decide. I've looked at the Anastasia sock and the Mata Hari sock because I think either might do well with very variegated yarn, and women in my SnB are making or have made each, I like them both. But I can't decided. They kinda look a lot alike to my eye so maybe I just need to draw a name from a hat.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Save the Cheerleader, Let Me Knit
This is what happens when you spend three days watching Heroes online. I'd heard good things about Heroes, but honestly thought the show sounded a little lame. Wrong! It is the opposite of a little lame. And, NBC in its crack pushing genius, put all of the episodes online for people to watch for free. Damn pushers! Needless to say, after getting through six episodes and two thirds of my sweater back on Friday, I was totally, completely, helplessly hooked. Hi, my name is Jenna and I'm a Heroesaholic. Now I've seen all eighteen episodes and knitted a twenty-six inch wide, twenty-eight inch long Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Grim Reaper
I think I may have mentioned at some point that my husband has certain television requirements. I almost said proclivities instead of requirements but it sounded like he liked to get it on with the t.v. and that is just weird. Oh, and it's not true either. So we'll just say he has requirements, desires. His desires have led us to have two DVR systems. I, being cheap, can't stand the thought of not getting our monies worth, so I developed this system whereby I record any new show that I think has the slightest chance of not sucking. This way our DVR is working all the time and there is tons of stuff to watch. I watch these new shows to see what will rock and what will suck. I have this idea that I will find a great show and watch it from inception on, knowing every little detail and every great one liner. I figured the next Seinfeld is merely a push of the record button away. I've figured wrong thus far. Apparently I have the finger of death when it comes to new shows. Currently rotting in my DVR queue are:
Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip
Standoff
3 Lbs
Justice
Smith
What do these shows have in common? Can you say canceled? Some have gone on "indefinite hiatus" but let's be frank, this is a euphemism for donezo, caput, no more, canceled. I feel like I have some sort of death power to new shows. It is both exhilarating and scary. I mean, I love me some Ugly Betty and I don't want it to get the axe, so should I stop recording it? On the other hand, In Case of Emergency or Knights of Prosperity? So not worthy of life. I mean, if they are going to yank Justice, a show brilliant for telling you what really happened at the end, then these things should be gone too right?!?
Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip
Standoff
3 Lbs
Justice
Smith
What do these shows have in common? Can you say canceled? Some have gone on "indefinite hiatus" but let's be frank, this is a euphemism for donezo, caput, no more, canceled. I feel like I have some sort of death power to new shows. It is both exhilarating and scary. I mean, I love me some Ugly Betty and I don't want it to get the axe, so should I stop recording it? On the other hand, In Case of Emergency or Knights of Prosperity? So not worthy of life. I mean, if they are going to yank Justice, a show brilliant for telling you what really happened at the end, then these things should be gone too right?!?
Thursday, December 07, 2006
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?
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