Red, the Color of Desire; Black, the Color of Despair

I don’t have the time to tell these stories. Really, I don’t. But I can’t help it.

When I was in the Navy stationed at lovely NSGA, Rota, I had the dubious pleasure of, on a number of occasions, escorting Luis. Silent S. What that means is that I had to follow Luis around while he cleaned the bathrooms. He had a routine, he did, and I shall share it with you.

Luis dipped his three-stranded mop into the toilet (!!!), which counts as cleaning the toilet, and then sloshed TOILET WATER back and forth over the floor with his three-stranded mop. A heavy dosing of military-approved air freshener and we were off! Why did I have to escort Luis? Couldn’t he have been left to slosh toilet water all by his lonesome? Nah. We worked, you see, in a secure facility which means that anyone who wasn’t cleared to be there couldn’t be there without an escort. I’m not sure if Luis cared about the classified things going on in there. Certainly he caught snippets from time to time, perhaps more than snippets. Again, I don’t know. Luis had hairs growing out of the TOP of his nose, nose hairs that got misdirected and, instead of floating languidly in his nose-breeze, wiggled madly from the top of his snout. Picture that. Take as long as you need.

I share this story because unfortunately, I had a small, icky pimple inside my nostril this morning. I was quite alarmed because a) it hurt and b) who gets pimples INSIDE their nostrils? I Googled. Wouldn’t you? I learned that sometimes nosehairs can become ingrown and actually get SO turned around that they grow out of the top of your nose. Time that should have been spent studying for my exam later this evening has been wasted now on imagining my life with misdirected nosehair. Would I pluck? How much would that hurt, because your nostrils are nothing if not rife with nerve endings and little, fragile capillaries. How long would I have to let it grow in order to establish a sufficient fingertip or tweezer grip? Would it be like when those women on Dr. 90210 are having the drains removed from their breast implants and you think it will be a quick sllllip and it’s out, but it really takes about four long seconds? This misdirected nosehair has really made an impression on me. And yes, I am completely grossed out by this, but my hope is that by sharing I can let it go.

There’s Room for Us to Shake, and Hey, I Like This Tune

I’ve been busy! And tired. And have I mentioned yet the busy-ness of it all? Add to that two sick kids and a very typical SH story that’s a broken record. Something about sending kids to school when they’re suffering fevers and stomach ailments. But alas. I can’t expect reasonable parental behavior from him. You can’t milk a fish.

Ok, happy news. See this?

This is the skein of STR, Fire on the Mountain,  that I won from Cara, and it’s quite marvelous! In skein-form, it’s simply gorgeous stuff and of course I want to jump into a bed made from 18 skillion skeins of this. In sock-form, it feels very nice, but the colors are quite a jumble. I’m not brave enough to wear these socks. Chloe is, though! I’ll take a picture of the first one when I finish it. It’s the Broadripple pattern, and it looks great. Very easy pattern. Lovely yarn! Yes, I shall hie me hence with swiftness to the BMFA site and buy me some more!

Tomorrow evening I have my first exam, and I should probably get to studying. Yes?

How are you, by the way? 

Oh yes, one last thing.  This is part of the baby blanket I made for my first niece, Annie.  Do you recognize Frog and Toad?  I’m not sure which is which…

I Was Made for Lovin’ You, Baby! You Were Made for Lovin’ Me!

A very happy Valentine’s Day (Or VD, depending on your personal habits and safety-mindedness) to my reader! To my Valentine Boy, Nolan, I love you so so so much! To my Valentine Girl, Chloe, I love you a billion bushels! JungleJim, Valentine’s Day is like celebrating a blue sky in Arizona. Every day’s a blue sky. Every day is Valentine’s Day. You are my heart.

 THIS actually turned my head in weird ways for a bit last night. I laughed out loud, and it sounded so odd, like my Dad laughs when he’s watching The Simpsons. What’s even more startling is THIS. I don’t know why I use the word startling. But it really was! And at some point I had to stop reading because, as Elvis sang, a little less conversation, a little more action, baby! So Happy VD to these folks, too, although apparently they’re already celebrating

In a VERY spooky way, THIS ties together a large portion of the previous paragraph.

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And I Will Drive My Chariot Down Your Streets and Cry

So. I’ve run out of interesting things to say, and for that I apologize.

Well, maybe this. Last night I had the opportunity to attend a lecture given by Richard Rodriguez. Read all about it, he seems to be a very gentle soul despite the very highly-charged nature of his discussions. Not surprisingly, during the question and answer session that followed the lecture the only question that had a single hint of “I’m a victim” mentality came from the awful person in my bilingual ed class, the person that gives me a stress headache and had the nerve to call me naïve and ignorant. Something about Prop 203, it’s not worth m time to get into it. Anyway!! During his lecture, Dr. Rodriguez was very thorough in including as many aspects of a person’s known heritage as possible. “His mother is of German-Mexican descent” “his brother’s wife comes from a Mexican-Asian background” “my Irish neighbors” and so on and so forth. Dr. Rodriguez, very thorough man. What was bothersome to me, however, was something just the opposite. While almost meandering through the litanies of heredity, Dr. Rodriguez hastily clarified “But they’re not gay!” when discussing two of his former students, a pair of young men named Lance and Steve. Later in the lecture, when the German-Mexican son was described as a chef, Dr, Rodriguez emphasized again that the chef was not gay. That made me wonder. What prejudices could Dr. Rodriguez have? It was with apparent enjoyment that he shared what people were, so why was it so important to share what those three men were not? Specifically, gay? Who cares? Do people automatically assume “Two male classmates sitting together! Gay!” Or “A man who likes to cook! Gay!” I know I don’t. Did Dr. Rodriguez assume that this was my assumption? And in his haste to clarify that these men were indeed not gay, what does that say about his attitude towards my assumption? Specifically, his collaboration with it? Very confusing. Especially considering this man is spending the time of his life trying to eliminate people being alienated because of their differences. It’s ponderous, man, really ponderous. Try to Google those lyrics. I failed!

Ok. I haven’t knit much, but GET THIS! My Secret Pal from the Blogger SP9 sent my final package, and it contained: some yummy lotion, some very pretty stationery, two skeins of Andean Silk in a gorgeous color, and …..Mmmmmmmalabrigo in the most cheery, red Cherry Jolly Rancher color you could ever hope to see! I’ll take pictures when I’m less exhausted. This student teaching thing and class at night can wear a girl down! I don’t have much time to blog anymore and that bums me out as this is super fun! I’ll make the next one a good one, I PROMISE! It will have pictures, too!

G’night, y’all, and that includes Anna Nichole Smith.