A Prezzie!!?? For Me!!??

I haven't had anyone knit something for me since I was...oh, about thirteen! But today...I got a knit present! My good friend Elizabeth knit a cowl, just for me.

I tried to take some pictures of myself...not an easy trick, especially when you don't like having pictures taken of yourself.

I thought this one above wasn't too bad...and don't cowls hide double chins nicely! But I couldn't figure out why I didn't look like myself.


Oh yeah...it's the eyeglasses.

Thank you, Elizabeth. I feel as though I'm wearing a tropical sunset around my neck.

A week or so ago on Book Balloon we were joking around about writing prompts, and someone came up with "Justin Bieber, Mitt Romney and a chicken walk into a bar...." My response to that was "This is going to be a long evening," said the chicken, "I need to get fried."

More joking went on, with PCashwell saying that the form of the product hadn't been specified. Whereupon TPC said "A sestina!" Well, for some reason I couldn't get the idea of a sestina out of my mind - though I did manage to mis-remember it as a chicken, Romney and Gingrich. But here, for your amusement...

A Sestina

I was tending my bar, counting my money
When in walked a chicken, Newt, and Romney.
“Here’s a joke,” I thought, as I wiped the bar.
“What can I get you?” I asked of the three.
“Give me a whiskey,” the hen said as she sat.
"This’ll be a long evening, I need to get fried.”

My breakfast that morning, eggs scrambled not fried,
Began to heave as Mitt spoke of his money
The chicken and Newt, well they just sat
Not saying anything that might stifle Romney
I wished there was a response from one of the three,
Because Mitt’s chatter about cash didn’t fit in this bar.

Why, the usual customer in my middle-class bar
Is happy to be able to afford nice eggs, fried.
But most of them only have two, not three,
Because of cholesterol, yes, but also money
A concern I think that never bothered Mitt Romney
And still, chatting of cash, there the three sat.

The chicken rustled a bit on the stool where she sat
And looking around said, “This is a nice little bar.”
“How much does it profit you?” asked Mr. Romney.
(He’d had a few whiskies but wasn’t yet fried.)
“Why,” he said, “I bet it earns a little money!
Say, two hundred thousand bucks or maybe even three!!”

Newt put down his glass and looked around at us three
Romney, the chicken, and I, where I sat
“You can’t buy happiness, not with all your money.
You need to take a good wife to the matrimonial bar!”
The chicken, she cackled,” You really are fried!”
“You’ve tried that three times.” muttered Romney.

“How happy are you, Newt?” asked Mr. Romney,
Trotting around with wife number Three?”
Newt looked glumly away, the chicken looked fried.
But Romney rushed out of the bar while they sat
“Left my dog on the roof,” he said coming back to the bar
“He doesn’t look happy, but I’ll give him some money.”

The chicken was fried and so was Mitt Romney.
I tallied my money and gave their tabs to the three.
After they left I just sat, in the quiet of my bar.

Christmas Wrap (Up)

I was going to write something all clever and funny about Christmas but if I wait until that percolates, it's likely to be Easter before anything gets written. Seems that the more writing I do at work, the less I feel like writing when I get home in the evening. And lately, with a hearing coming up, work is busy.

But Christmas...it was lovely. Mr. Pointy Sticks took a number of pictures as we were celebrating (in a quiet way) at my dad's. I'd post one or two except that somehow we all end up looking as though we've escaped from the Home for the Feeble and Homely...I swear, a dopier looking group of people you could not hope to find.

But presents...they stand still and look presentable. So herewith, my favorite presents of the season.

My brother's sweetie gave me this adorable spoon rest...well, I suppose you could also use it as a candy dish or coaster...but I am enjoying having it close by as I cook.


What a perfectly snooty cat.

And my daughter gave me this:


We've all been waiting years for this to come out. In fact, years ago my brother ordered me a copy. But then he heard that Rachel had gotten this for me so he decided to give the copy that would have been mine to Rachel. He said he was feeling a little bad about giving it up but it all worked out because Rachel also gave a copy to him! It was the Year of the Pogo! I'm having great fun reading it.

But the best present? Probably the best present I've ever gotten? Mr. Pointy Sticks gave me this:

The Nook Tablet! I love this thing! I never thought I would be an e-book sort of person. But I kept looking at it when we went into Barnes and Noble and every time I played with it I liked it a little more. And then, on Christmas morning, there it was! Eeeek! And having had it now for almost a month, I can say I am a convert. I've read a couple of books on it...it's fast, light, responsive. And I love the apps...the games, Pandora. I am thinking of trying out Netflix.

Here's it is in its little jacket.

And the last wonderful present? Mr. Pointy Sticks also gave me a gift certificate to The Black Sheep.

And this past Saturday I went up there. I spent the afternoon and I also spent the gift certificate.

And I had fun doing both.

Look at these colors!

I have plans for all of these. I sat at The Black Sheep and looked at patterns on Ravelry (on my Nook because they have wi-fi!) and figured out what I wanted to make. The Noro will be a couple of pairs of mitts. The two Jawolls will be shawlettes. At least, that's the plan at the moment.

Random Thorts

So, I woke up Thursday night (well, Friday morning, actually) and couldn’t really get back to sleep (I think some dozing occurred on and off) what with the hot flashes and the Duncan-wanting-attention and the mouth-like-the-Gobi-Desert (thank you, sinuses, for making me a mouth-breather). So I was thinking about this and that, the way one does, and began thinking about the things I like/do now that I’ve enjoyed/done pretty much all my life. And as it stands now, think I will probably continue to enjoy/do right up until the end.

Number 1 on the list would have to be enjoying that tart, artificial, orange taste that one finds in baby aspirin. I’ve always loved that flavor. When I was little, my brother and I had to take these daily vitamins…they were liquid and came in little brown glass bottle with glass eyedroppers. And every day we had to have an eye-dropper full. I loved those things! (In fact, typing this up and thinking about them is making my salivary glands go into overdrive.) I used to sneak extra dropperfuls whenever I could. My mom knew that I was sneaking extra because she would buy a bottle for me and a bottle for my brother (who I think hated them but will undoubtedly remember their name) and my bottle would empty out in half the time it took his to empty. I also used to sneak baby aspirin, something my mother didn’t know and which rather horrified her when I told her (when I was in my 30’s). I was very careful, though. I knew aspirin was dangerous so I only ever stole the number of tablets that the label assured me was safe. I remember staring at the label and wishing I were old enough to take 4 tablets instead of just 2. I am thrilled now to take my daily baby aspirin!

Number 2? Like my father, I’ve always loved having my hair messed with. Some gentle hair-combing and I am in heaven. When I was little, my Dad would come home from work and sit down with the paper or a book (I remember this most clearly in the second house I lived in) and I would climb up behind him and sit on the back of the sofa with my legs over his shoulders and I would play with his hair. Now, we’re talking a professional 40-ish year old man in the very early ‘60’s. His hair was probably half an inch long. But I would comb it and brush it (I used to love putting his hair brush (which I loved because it was clear, see-through plastic), bristles down, on the top of his head, twirling it and pulling it straight up…I called it making birds’ nests) and no doubt chatter his ears off. I always looked forward to having my own “beauty parlor” sessions when I had a kid. Alas, Rachel had no interest in playing any such games. Guess she didn’t inherit the “please fool with my hair” gene.

For Number 3…for as long as I can remember I’ve used an alphabet game to put myself to sleep at night (yes, I tried it last night…no, it doesn’t always work). I go through the alphabet as follows:

A, my name is Annabelle (or Amelia or Avery or whatever name pops into my mind)
My husband’s name is Adam
We live in Annapolis
And we sell antiques.

B, my name is Bethany
My husband’s name is Bert
We live in Baltimore
And we sell books.

And so on, until:

Z, my name is Zelda
My husband’s name is Zeus
We live in Zanesville
And we sell zebras.

If it’s an exceptionally tough night (like Thursday night), it’ll go like this:

A, my name is Amber
My husband’s name is Alexis
We live in Anaheim
My favorite food is avocado
My favorite color is amethyst
My favorite animal is an anaconda
My favorite flower is the anemone
And we sell ammonia!

I’ve had a couple of nervous habits (biting my nails and twiddling my hair) probably since I’ve had teeth and hair. I can’t say I enjoy them, but I bet I’ll still be twiddling what remains of my hair when I’m drooling in a nursing home.

And I twiddle my feet. When I'm not feeling well, I'll lie down on my side and rub my feet, round and round, against each other. It's soothing. Mr. Pointy Sticks knows that when I'm doing that, I'm really not feeling well.

There's probably more...but I think it's time for bed.