It’s time to play blog. I must endeavor to post to the blog daily. Especially now that there are more than two people who know it lives. Just so you know, I am hyper and this is long.
Driving to work today was fun. There was a man in an older model suv who was under the impression that his car is invisible. Every time anyone would stray nearer to his lane, he would honk. We came to a merge, he laid on his horn. Some unsuspecting sedan pulled safely into the lane in front on him, he laid on his horn. I am certain that man does not lead a happy life.
My drive to work actually was fun because I was listening to sixteen horsepower. Sackcloth and Ashes, their first album. They are brilliant. Brilliant, brilliant, brilliant. In 1996 I heard did an interview on NPR and thusly (word used in homage to my friend J.) was I hooked. Raised listening to the Sex Pistols and the Carter Family they were. Often dark in subject, but never without hope. More things should be that way.
This morning I opened my e-mail and there’s a random message from E-vite that “D.” has sent me a message. I read it and it is an ex (D.) of an ex (K.). Neat-o. We will get together next week. I met D. a few times in college and confess that I am eager to see how she turned out. I know that I am a person greatly changed in the past three years, let alone the past 10. I do hope we don’t speak much of K. Not that he’s not a wonderful person worthy of conversation, but I have no desire to hash over an ex. Not when there could be so much more to discuss.
On a knitterly note, I finally finished the promised socks! They are lovely and were well received. I honestly believe that she will wear them. Good feeling. They were given to S. along with a bag for her birthday. A sunburst sling bag from Just One More Row that makes me happy. I shall make many more of them.
Furthermore, while watching the DNC last night, I began (for the fourth fricken time) a sweater for myself. Gifts to myself never work out well in knitting, but I love the yarn and am compelled (obviously) to try. A month ago, I had knit 98% of a tank. It was an awful fitting beast, so I frogged half of it and recommenced. It was again an awful fitting beast, so I frogged the whole thing. Thinking a change of course was in order, I started a top-down raglan (to be short-sleeved). Tried it on three inches in and the neck was more of a choker, so I frogged. Increased the cast-on by 20 and three inches in had created something you would have seen in Flashdance, so I frogged. I will not frog again. No. Noooooo. No more rippit for me. It will either be a top-down, short-sleeved raglan, or it will RIP for a few years.
On the DNC, I must confess that I have the biggest crush on Bill Richardson, Hillary, and forever Bill. I know it’s one big media-friendly rah-rah session, but all I can ask myself is WHERE ARE MY POM POMS! If this is what it takes to get Dems out there and drumming up the votes, I’m all for slick, media-whoredom! Woo-hoo! Sign me up. No, send me. Hee hee. Couldn’t resist. Sigh, Bill.
NB: for you non-knitters it is called frogging because you have to rippit, just like the sound made by a wee frog. Ah, you’d think we knitters were such cutsie and quiet folk. Ha. Haa haa. That is how we facilitate our taking over the world! Muwahaaahaaa.
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