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August 2004
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October 2004

Two inter-related things

One) Seth Stevenson is one of those writer's whose stuff I read religiously, even if he's only writing about peanut butter.

Two) I never want to go to India. Never ever.

(Addendum on Friday morning: From Stevenson's Thursday installment of his travelogue, this graf is just amazing--

" For instance, there was this guy who smiled weakly and asked us, with a halfhearted shrug, "Monkey dance?" Our eyes followed the leash in his hand, which led to the neck of a monkey. The most jaded, world-weary monkey I've ever seen. The Lou Reed of monkeys. He looked like he was about to sit down, pull out his works, and shoot a big syringe full of heroin into his paw. Needless to say, we declined the monkey dance—which I'm guessing would have been some sort of sad, simian death-jig."

the story of the sheep

And so in the interest of science I bring you the rise and fall of Freddy the Sheep:

Once assembled, which was fairly easy despite the tiny pieces of double-stick tape, we have this:

Freddy himself is resting on a plinth of grass, which covers a tub of white, watery liquid that came with the kit.

Later that evening:

The start of fiber-like crystals.

The next morning:

The "wool" feels kinda weird, like paper pulp or something. If you touch it, it sort of mashes and falls off. I assume that's because it's still growing and wet. Note the beginnings of mange and a mustache. Poor Freddy.

And, on his last day:


Tried to take this one sans-flash to see if it would help with the glare. Not sure that it did.

Sadly, Freddy is no longer with us. I put him outside to see in the sun if his fur would harden enough so that I could I could keep him on a bookshelf. After a couple of days out there, still no, um, hardness and his head was brutally ripped off by either a) the wind or b) a squirrel. No, I am not a good sheep owner. But it was a dang cool gift!

actual knitting content

Thanks Secret Pal!

Lessee...we have some hand balm, some Knitter's review bookplates and pencils (both of which I was fixin' to buy for my own self, proving that the SP reads minds), lovely kitty card and, the piece de resistance, an "Amazing Sheep," which "grows wool from paper." I can't wait to set this baaaaa-d boy up and start growing, once I can figure out where to put it so that paws and tiny fingers don't disturb it. I wonder if I'll get enough wool* for some socks?

Two more pixs:


First, the Diva in her new fall sweater, which I knitted with my very own hands from some Koigu Kersti, which is sproingy and colorful and soft, and the Tasia top-down cardi pattern. Note her pose, her haughty air mixed with subtle distain. Ah, toddlers. So grateful.

And, second,


The same child, later in the day, after the application of a cookie and my gardening hat. Melts your heart, don't it?

(*Yes, yes, I know my "Amazing Sheep" won't grow actual wool, but appears to exude a crystalline substance that resembles wool. Still. I can't wait to set it up. I love cool science toys.)

for the record, part deux

In a perfect universe, I would be flying out for a four day weekend in Lee, Fl, which is near Tallahassee, visiting my mom and her ducks. Thanks to Ivan, that ain't gonna happen. I have this weird thing about flying into hurricanes. Call me crazy.

Ah, well. Delta, bless 'em, understands that some people have reservations about flying into whopping big storms and will let me move my tixs to a time more Christmas-y. Florida in December sounds like a much wiser choice, doesn't it? Worst that happens is *sigh* there'll be a blizzard on this end of the trip.

This does mean that I have four days to catch up on my life. It'll help, certainly, but I coudl really use four weeks. And a cleaning lady. And a massage. And a nap. Ahhhhh...naps.


From Entertainment Weekly's interview with Jon Stewart:

Q: Then is your real target the media, not politicians?

Stewart: Politicians are doing what politicians do. I liken it to when you go to the zoo, and the monkeys are sitting in there jerking off and throwing their shit. And you just gotta go, "Well, they're monkeys." But you can yell at the media and go, "You know, your job is to tell them when they're being bad monkeys."


Though much is taken, much abides;
And though we are not now that strength
which in old days moved earth and heaven,
that which we are, we are --
our equal temper of heroic hearts,
made weak by time and fate,
but strong in will to strive,
to seek, to find and not to yield.

-- "Ulysses"
Alfred, Lord Tennyson