(no subject)

That's it.
No more emailing for me until after I get whatever-wi-wrong fixed so I won't be distracted by the pain and the drugs used to mask the pain.

I am so incredibly embarrassed that I cannot even describe it.

(no subject)

I went and ate breakfast, then finished another bag and now I feel better. "Bag?" you say? Yes, as a reprise to an old Chorus, I'm knitting bags to use as 12thNight gifts.

( Here's a quick view. )

I've been working on them off and on throughout the year but as my friends have now all become knitters, it seems, and the quality of what they can do exceeds mine, this will probably be the last time I make any. The hard part is matching them up with people who I think will like them. Thank goodness, some folks have seen a few and told me which ones they like (I just stuck a piece of paper inside with the various names of the folks who liked them written on the paper - no guarantees that they'll get that one, but it does help).

Okay, you guys, I wasn't looking for compliments!

You guys make me grin. Here, you've caused me to take more pictures of some of the ones I really like... The pictures came out lots darker than they should have. I even used a flash - think it would have worked better on a white tablecloth?

So far I have 73 of them ranging in 6-inch tall to 3.5 inches tall (the smallest ones are, according to my Eldest, just the right size for storing condoms in a pouch or by one's bed. He used to nab quite a few of them for friends when he was living next to V-tech).

And the reason I said I'm not that good is that I haven't been making them on needles any smaller than size 2 and I can't knit in the round so there is a seam up the side - which no one else has to do 'cause they're cooooool and can knit normal-like. My own sense of 'correct to period' grows more dissatisfied each year when I look at my little bags. And then I think, "but I don't care, I like making them!" and do it anyway.

( If you wanna lookie, click this, cookie. )

Second try

I know, I'm being Posty McPost today. I think it's fear. One hour until I see the Doc and find out if they're gonna be chop-chopping into my head. In the meantime, I took AttackLaurel's suggestions and tried making better pictures of some of the bag. These are random "I like 'em" ones. ( You don't have to look, honest! )

Shit, Spit Damn

Just got the call that one of my Pennsic-friends, someone I only see in August and who I loved working with (he's on staff. I mean "he was on staff". Fuck) anyway, ULRIC of Technical Services has passed on. From Pneumonia. When did healthy strong men start dying from that? What the hell is that? Damn. Cip's Tree isn't going to be the same without him there cracking jokes. Who the HELL is going to pick up his job pre-Pennsic? He and Frog and John and Ed work damned near 18 hours a day until Land Grab. (okay, and beyond.)
Spit.
Who am I gonna hassle and tease about my stairs to the trailer? Who's gonna drive the "Viking Boat" golf cart with that big (half missing) grin? Every time I have to unload a huge delivery, he won't be popping up to suddenly be handing me boxes. Goddamnit.

Damn, damn, damn.
Why can't it just be a vicious rumor like the letter about Dennis O'conner was*?

(Don't worry, I'm sure I'll clean up the language tomorrow.)
Damn.


*It was a hoax. Dennis is alive and well and told the person calling his wife so when he answered the phone.