My therapist says not to see you no more.

22 03 2008

I realize that’s a double-negative, and that my therapist means that I should see more of you, but what James meant when they sang that is “My therapist is telling me to stay away from you because you drive me crazy and not in the good way, but in the Britney Spears You Drive Me Crazy head-shaving way.” 

For some reason I like to pretend I’m a prude.  I’m not.  I’m coarse, I’m vulgar, I appreciate a good dirty joke, but all in the privacy of my own little world.  And I don’t like it when people bust into my own little world with their vulgarities.  I’m also very liberal in my definition of “my own little world.”  By liberal I mean it’s ok when I’m coarse and vulgar, but not anyone else.  This is something I need to work on, and so I shall.  I get quite uptight and judgmental when something goes down that’s not to my liking.  Realizing you have a problem is the first step.  Living in a glass house, as I am, I should not be throwing stones.  Which is all my way of saying I do solemnly swear to no longer get uptight and panties-in-a-wad-ed over anything on ravelry ever again.  Thank you.

So what’s up with my knitting?  I’ll tell you what’s up.  I’ve got that Noro sock I’m working on when I’m very very bored, and that’s about it.  And that’s because I now know how to crochet and let me tell you, I take back every bitchy, condescending thing I ever said or thought about crochet. 

 

That’s going to be a Babette blanket for my son.  He’s too young to know that the 70s were the height, the pinnacle, the zenith of tacky ugliness and that these colors bring back all of that in one fell swoop.  He’s in love with it, which thrills me to so many pieces.  That yarn is Cotton Ease. It’s so soft.  It’s so cheap.  It is so machine washable.  I can’t wait until it’s done!  And then I’ll make another one to throw in the couch, and Loverman and I shall snuggle under it and ok, now I realize that yarn needs to be machine washable, too, if you know what I mean and I think you do.

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And a soda on the side.

1 03 2008

Because I care about Ed and his ongoing quest for reading pleasure, here’s a blog post. 

Um.  I finished the kitted part of a really cute green purse.  I used Berroco Suede and some shiny nylon tape thing.  I started this originally as one of those “knit a long rectangle, fold it in half, and seam up the sides” deal, but instead I redid it with a rectangle bottom, then I picked up stitches on three sides and knit in the round until I ran out of the shiny tape stuff.  Which wasn’t very long.  I should have taken a picture of the ridiculously tangled mess I had with this yarn last weekend as we drove down to Tombstone for the day.  I didn’t, though.  Here it is with the handles that still need to be attached.  I’m not sure what the finished dimensions will be.  I’ll let you know after I line it with cute fabric and something to make it not floppy.  Suggestions?

 

That’s my new laptop, by the way.  A Dell XPS M1330.  In addition to a ridiculously wonderful machine, I also get instant tech support with people who LIVE IN UTAH.  That’s all I have to say about that.

 
Speaking of Tombstone!  It was great fun.  It occurred to me, towards the end of the day, that Tombstone is a lot like a renaissance fair(e), but with boring costumes and fewer women.  And no delicious smoked turkey legs that require one to be prepared with plenty of dental floss.

 

We went on a tour of the historic Birdcage Theater, which is apparently the only thing keeping Tombstone designated as a historical town or whatever it is.  Apparently this is the most haunted place in Tombstone, but that’s like saying my silverware drawer is the most haunted place in my kitchen.  I took plenty of pictures figuring I’d find some ghostie orbs or ghostly figures afterwards.  This is the most interesting picture.  I don’t know for sure what those fiery blobs are, so I’m going to assert that they’re manifestations of unhappy souls of departed prostitutes.  I might be full of crap. 

 

On our way back home we stopped for dinner in Tucson at a place called Lil’ Abner’s.  Oh.  My.  God.  I have never had such gloriously wonderful ribs in my entire life.  They have four things on their menu.  Wait, they don’t even have a menu.  They will serve you a gigantic steak, a gigantic slab of beef ribs, a gigantic slab of pork ribs, or a few chickens.  Take your pick.  Eat them all.  They grill their meat over a pit, and they don’t start cooking until you order.  Go there.  Lil’ Abner’s in Tucson.  It’s housed in what used to be a Pony Express depot.  Pretty awesome.   Check out my boy in a food coma!   (No, he didn’t eat all of those.)