Through The Looking Glass

I’ve been sick for a few days, so I think my sleeping patterns should perhaps be blamed on illness.

That said, I woke up several times in the night because I was dropping my stitches in my current knitting project. Happily, the actual knitting was safely in the next room. Even more happily, I realized this each time I woke up and didn’t have to frantically search the bedclothes for it. Well, maybe once I did.

Since I seem to have knitting on the brain, here are some pictures.

I started out making this ribbed scarf:

It got to be about a foot long, and then I realized that while it was fairly nice, I just wasn’t looking very forward to wearing it. So I ripped the whole thing out and started work on this:

I call it a schawl, because it is wider than a scarf but smaller than a shawl. (Size reference: the needles are about 14″ long.) When I started it, I was certain that I had three skeins of the yarn. Unfortunately, I only have two, and I’ve had it for 20 years so I can hardly expect to find more. However, several years back Joni knitted me a hat and mittens from it. They’re gorgeous, but I never wear the hat, so I am considering frogging it (that’s “taking the whole thing apart” to you non-knitters) to make my schawl as long as I think I want it. We’ll see.

In other news, I broke my vow to make something from Stitch ‘N Bitch before attacking any of the pretties in Stitch ‘N Bitch Nation, and am most of the way through one of a set of legwarmers:

That was my progress when I got up this morning. I think I’ll be done with that one pretty soon. Then I have to start all over and do the exact same thing all over again, which sounds very boring. Oh well.

So, Hunter S. Thompson has died, apparently by his own hand.

I must confess, I did not believe he would ever die. I didn’t think he could. After all, he had pickled himself but good, and I just assumed he would be left to hang out with Keith Richards and the cockroaches, eating twinkies, after the Nuclear Apocalypse.

Oh well.

On the other hand, Giblets claims he isn’t dead at all.

I am so tired today. Weary, even. And for no good reason.

…Oh, hey! It’s RAINING! That’s new, and not terribly exciting. Maybe the barometer was my problem. Is my problem. I’m not any less tired now that it’s raining.

Which reminds me, none of the promised work has been done on our apartment. I am going to turn into THE HULK any day now. But first, another stern letter. When I am less tired.

It is the kind of tired that is not strong enough for me to take a nap, just strong enough that I think of stuff that I need to do but I can’t get up and do it. I re-read some of Mindi’s novel yesterday and toward the end of the second chapter I just zoned out and couldn’t concentrate to write down my thoughts on it. So I guess the rain theory is right out, since yesterday was the same, but without rain. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME? And shut up, I could not be pregnant.

I am forcing myself to write this even though my brain keeps going elsewhere, because I want to write down my incredibly simple to-do list so that I will feel more guilty if I don’t get through it. So, um, here goes.

By Friday afternoon:

• Collect old magazines to get rid of. (Should be easy, they are in exactly two places.)

• Write that feedback for Mindi.
• Clear off shelf by computer and organize bills there.
• Stern letter.
• Two loads laundry.
• Wash kitchen floor.
• Vacuum.
• Clean bathroom.
• Call sister.
• flip out and kill people

This weekend:

• Research combination printers.

• Buy one with Best Buy gift card.
• Buy Deadwood.
• Give up on ever getting anything else done; watch Deadwood.

That’s not so bad, right?

(Cross-posted, with apologies.)

Oh boy.

Pretend you are a clerk in a bookstore. I am your worst nightmare: I’m looking for a book, but I don’t know the title or the author or really anything except that the main character wore pink pants in one scene…

Stop pretending to be a clerk in a bookstore. Seriously, stop! I’d rather you didn’t kill me.

So, I’m looking for this book. It is a young adult romance novel (no, really). The main character, who does indeed wear pink pants in one scene, is a good girl with good grades who starts dating a boy (I think his name might be Bobby) with a bad reputation – he’s had sex, he maybe can’t read, etc. They become very close and she learns that he dreams of being an actor; in one scene he reads to her from Long Day’s Journey Into Night. His father is a police officer, he is Italian, and he cooks her dinner. There is a very important scene in which she is nearly hit by a car.

Does anyone have ANY IDEA AT ALL what book I am talking about?

Seven years ago today, I thought (for the first time) about what it might be like to kiss Will.

It is really, really nice.

I know of at least one website where you can enter in the ingredients you’ve got on hand and the site will magically tell you what you can cook with them. Magic! (I am certain I’ve come across another site that does the same thing, but now I can’t find it.)

Wouldn’t it be nice if there were a site where you could enter in your skills and weaknesses, and it would magically (MAGICALLY!) tell you what you could do for pay that wouldn’t suck out your soul or break up your marriage or leave you physically debilitated?

Yes, I know, there are career counselors and placement tests and soforth, but those things cost money and may not comply with the soul-sucking thing.

So I thought that in lieu of a website or counselor, I would turn to my Crazy Internet People. Because I really need some money, dudes. So I am going to give you a list of the skills I can think of, and a list of the things I cannot do, and you, my beloveds, are going to make suggestions.

I am able to:

• Read.

• Write.
• Copy Edit. I have a certificate that says so.
• Type. Probably around 50 words per minute, but I have not actually tested myself.
• Use a computer (including all MS Office programs, Final Draft, and Photoshop – and some Apple movie-making programs, albeit at novice level).
• Do research, using both the internet and “books.”
• Alphabetize. I can also spell, and use proper grammar.
• Take photographs (digital and 35mm).
• Use html and some CSS to create a website.
• Drive.
• Use surface streets to get there in half the time it would take on the highway.
• Cook.
• Care for/play with children, including infants.
• Plan a wedding. (What? I can.)

There is surely more that I can do, but that seems a good start.

I absolutely cannot or will not:

• Work opposing shifts from Will (i.e. I will only work between 10:00 and 6:00, M-F).

• Be on my feet or active for more than a few hours at a time.
• Take public transport more than 30 minutes each way and with more than one transfer. Do not try to argue this one, I just won’t.
• Commute much more than 30 minutes using any form of transportation.
• Be yelled at.
• Wait tables (which falls under the physical requirements but bears mentioning anyway).
• Accept less than $15 per hour for my services (more in certain fields). This is negotiable if I am working on a per-project basis.
• Put myself in unreasonable danger, and anything else that ought to go without saying.

So, based on this haphazard and incomplete listing, what should I attempt to do with myself? (By the way, my resume stinks. But I will work on it.)

Been playing with Photoshop. I made the green one a few weeks ago and am no longer satisfied with it. But I love the pretty lady (a Marlboro ad from the 30s).

Edited in:

WIL WHEATON dot NET: Where is my mind?: and now for something completely different

Through the Looking Glass

It is not my own invention.

(There are actually quite a number of blogs with names identical or similar to mine. I just thought this one particularly interesting in the Not Me sense.)

Monkeys Pay to See Female Monkey Bottoms