A great loss

The Misstea household suffered an unexpected and significant loss this week.

These socks were deeply loved, and will always be remembered.

Funeral services were held Tuesday, April 2, 2008. Misstea said a few loving words as she threw the socks into the washing machine for the last time. Misstea firmly believes in reincarnation, and expects the socks will eventually reappear as a change purse, or notions bag, or something.

Our knits are only with us while we knit them. After that, the journey belongs to them.

Don't eat if Stan is the chef

One of the very few things I dislike about spring is how the melting snow reveals six months worth of litter. I saw this during my little lunch-time walk the other day. So I had to take a picture:




I stopped counting beer bottles one I reached 24.

I am a bad blogger

Yesterday, I met a bunch of knit night buddies for brunch. We had a fan-frickingtastic time (never before have I had a four-and-one-half hour brunch that didn't involve mimosas).

I am a bad blogger because this is the only picture I took:

Bus buddy socks.

We will have to do it again.

Firing up the still

Who knew that Saturdays could be so productive? Certainly not me.

It's amazing how much housework can be done in the two hours before two of your most-favourite girlypals arrive. Just sayin'

Moving on...

Here are some very interesting photos of this afternoon's activity:

El jefe - working hard (forgive the rotten Spanish).

El vino, coming soon (accompanied by more rotten Spanish)!

Some of the materials, in the workspace. And that's the cleanest my kitchen's been in quite some time.

Beautiful women that I love. And slaves to my wine-making superiority. Hah!

Seriously, I love these bitches. Truly, without girlypals, a girl has nothing.

You know you are a regular when

• The locals leave you alone to defend yourself; 'cuz they know you can handle any drunken idiot that comes along.
• A long-time patron calls you a "shithead" with great affection. And then wraps his arm around your waist. And you don't mind.
• Your cardigan is buttoned wrong, and no one mentions it to you (or maybe that's just me, and my inability to dress myself).
• The "divorced men's" bar has become the "divorced person's" bar. 'Cuz gender inclusiveness is important, damnit.
• All the boys say 'Yes, it is a sock, and no, you can't have a pair."

I've got nothing

I think the snow we got the other day crushed my spirit.

Either that, or the week off from studying really messed with my groove.

I have suddenly lost the ability to sleep, and, not unrelated, breathe through my nose.

The house is quickly descending into its pre-spring state of disaster, I am in desperate need of a meal requiring non-frozen vegetables, and...

so I've started a new sock.

I have too much yarn

Go ahead. Read the title again. I'll wait.

The reason I have too much yarn is that I can't decide what I want to knit next. My bus to knit night is coming in 24 minutes, and I don't know which ball of yarn to grab, you know, in case I feel like starting something new.