A friend of mine keeps telling me that when the Goober grows up, she's going to write a tell-all book about me entitled 'Mummy Weirdest'. I wish her luck. Can't wait to read it.
I owe all my blog readers an apology. I fear I vastly underestimated your knowledge. For years I have resisted posting most of my free-association thoughts, figuring no one would track on them. But seeing how many people laughed coffee out their noses on the VK review's Piet Mondrain comment, from now on I promise a stream of consciousness. May the gods help you all.
A quick cruise on Ravelry shows the most popular patterns from this issue of VK are Jared's green mittens (the pick of the litter, if you ask me), and the gold pullover with the giant cables made of twisted stitches. I'm curious to see how those hoods turn out.
There is one tiny raincloud in the entire state at the moment, and it is parked over my house. (That's okay. I like rain.)
On Sunday, while dealing with a mild case of heat stroke (apparently my medications mess with my ability to sweat), my father-in-law called to tell me it was 65F/18C at his house, he was wearing his favorite lopi sweater I'd knit him, and he was nice and toasty warm. I called him several names. One of these days I'm going to have to knit a copy of that sweater, because I give it another year, tops, before it falls apart. (It's the silver and blue Ram's Head Cardi on my Ravelry page, knit in '03. He's worn it every day of every winter, since.)
I have ditched all other knitting to crank out a quick gift for someone (who reads this blog, so no more mention). I am using some Bendigo Colonial 8-ply that Bells sent me ages ago. I'm thinking of the color as 'giggling little girl purple'. Does anyone know if Bendigo dyes in the wool or after the yarn is spun? 'Cause this sure as heck looks like it was dyed in the wool.
The husbeast has suddenly become aware of the term 'stash' as applied to yarn stockpiles. (That's what I've always called it, the stockpile.) So now he's making many marijuana-related jokes about my yarn. Last night he called some yarn clippings 'shake'. He thinks he's really funny.
Uh. Still raining. There's a cat face mashed into my ankle. There are so many toys on the living room floor you can't walk through without tripping or stubbing your toe. The Goob is flinging stuffed animals so she can sit inside her toy basket. Seems like everything is normally weird around here.
Oh. Video of the husbeast and Goober playing horsie, coming up soon. The cuteness will make you gag.