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actual knitting content kinda

Thanks to allison's the blue blog, I now know that there is such a thing as a "knitting mystery." Which now leads me to these questions -- who is the packager putting these things together and how can I get my resume to them? I promise that I will not pull a Viswanathan.

In related news, my new wacky plan to amuse and confuse my friends is to knit up odd items, fling them in the mail and surprise those I know. Who wouldn't love a box full of nauties? Or aliens? Or uteri? Anyone wanna help with the knittin'? And if you have a birthday coming up, consider yourself warned.

As for my current knitting projects, I am at a standstill. There is this sock, see, and I can't seem to finish it. Ditto the scarf. And we shall not speak of the sweater. This does not keep me from planning projects that I'll never get to. I am nothing if not an optomist.

In completely unrelated news: given my love for Anthony Bourdain and the wacky goings-on in the restaurant kitchens that I have known, I have no problem laughing like a jaded waitron at this story. It's a wonder it doesn't happen *more* frequently.

early and often hybrid

It is now official. My memory is all shot to ... something ... um ... some warmish place, maybe?

As evidence I offer the fact that I had the best idea ever for my next column and now can't remember what it was, only that it was the best idea ever. Crap. And, no, I didn't write it down. Or, if I did, it is useless to me because I can't remember where I wrote it. I blame the fact that I have two kids and have to remember all of their stuff in addition to my own and my brain is getting a little full. It has nothing to do with getting old. Nothing at all.

W/r/t my full brain -- I need to find an undergrad or otherwise young, unoccupied student who is willing to be my bitch for a day. Said bitch needs to know how to do most of the following: pull weeds (which means knowing what is a weed and/or able to follow directions really closely), spread mulch, dig up the world's most aggressive blackberry bush, dust, vacuum, cook nutritious dinners, remember all that I have forgotten, bathe babies and write book proposals. Knowledge of shiatsu a plus. Pay is meager, but I will buy you beer/dinner/tank of gas. Takers?

Yeah. Didn't think so.

Re: design -- easier on the eyes, yes?

miller nation

Advisory: I am aware that the color scheme is hard on the eyes. Steps are being taken. See, yesterday, in a fit of psychosis, I starting dinking around with the colors. I honestly thought I'd erased this hideousness. It appears that I saved it and made it live. Further proof that I am a goober. Further updates on my gooberness as needed.

Apparently, someone thought it was a good idea to send Scott Miller to Amsterdam. It's a wonder everyone can still function. There is video proof that the boys did get out into the daylight every now and again. It's here. I'm sure you can sort out how to make it play, despite the Dutch titles.

Speaking of, Knoxville magazine did a feature on Scott not overly long ago. I want that t-shirt in the second photo.

For the Texans -- news has it that MIller will be in the Lone Star State soonish. It is a moral imperative that you go see him live. Fly, my pretties.

hybrid vigor

In an ideal world, I'd have a bunch of great pictures of a great little bag to show off. This is not an ideal world. Newsflash, I know.

Instead of sitting inside and sewing, I have been taking advantage of the springlike weather, which is a rareity in these parts, and hauling my heinie outdoors. The yard is starting to look less like a vacant lot occupied only by particularly large and messy squirrels and more like a yard. There will be a new sitting area this year because I still labor under the delusion that I may have time to actually sit in the yard with a cold beverage. No, denial ain't just ... well, you know the refrain.

The bag will probably not get done this week either (despite the fact that I have all of the pieces cut out and ready) because we are now into week three of tech hell and I am playing single parent until the weekend. And, no, it hasn't been one show with three weeks of tech. Everyone wants to get their crap in before the semester ends, however, which means that the last month is always an adventure.

(And, parenthetically, this past weekend's production of Urinetown: The Musical was mostly good and damned amusing. Even one of my dates, Snarkapuss, liked it. I had weird dreams, too. Odd, that.)

Also, since, as mentioned, this is the end of the term, I have a bunch of real work-like products to get done. I can ignore my stack of papers no longer. Too bad I can't charge 'em rent.

Excuses, excuses. Still, the yard is looking fabulous. The bag? Not so much.