My miles of i-cord are sitting next to me in a bag. They want to be a rug. Nice and squishy.
A small pile of Christmas footies sit waiting for their ends to be woven in.
A lone Skandium sock waits for a mate it might never meet.
Even Alexa knows it's a dreary day.
Pandora weeps for me.
SOTD
With love kittens,
Farf
Friday, November 16, 2018
Monday, August 6, 2018
Miles and Miles of i-cord!
WOO! I have decided to make a rug. Out of bulky squishy yarn knit into a three stitch i-cord. This is going to be so much fun. All kidding aside, I am looking forward to the rug I will get out of it.
Series to knit by: Dexter - gotta finish this damn show
Days until Christmas: not enough yet too many
Series to knit by: Dexter - gotta finish this damn show
Days until Christmas: not enough yet too many
Saturday, August 4, 2018
Oops, I did it again
Well, well, well. Here we are again. Scatterbrained me and wonderful you. Just a quick word between friends before bed. Excited to have remembered myself and my love for writing down gibberesh and inane rants against laws that prohibit non-domesticated animals within city limits. Write at you tomorrow for now on this international day of beer, I have done my duty - had a Leinie’s and then just one more - and now must sit by the fire and drink a goodnight latte. Kisses.
Thursday, May 28, 2015
Please Be That Guy
Good morning, kittens! How goes the day? It's overcast and rainy (again) in sunny Fargo. I have come to the conclusion that I reside in the wrong area of the Great States of 50.
Though North Dakota is wonderful in many ways, it lacks what I love most. Water. There isn't much free-flowing around these parts that isn't brown or man-made. Don't worry about me though, I make do with 900 baths a day. Or zero if I have the day off. Closer to zero on most days.
And I'm oh kay with that. I don't mind my own funk. It's a heady aroma of awesome, wonderfulness, and pretzel. It's the pretzel that brings all the boys to the yard, yo. And they're starting to kill the grass beneath my balcony.
I'm getting married (again) soon and I have been thinking of old lovers. And old friends who wanted to be lovers. And old friends who never wanted to be lovers. I miss those the most. Especially the old friends/never lovers who were of the male persuasion. They do exist and I want mine back.
Of course men and women can be friends with absolutely no benefits. And it's fucking awesome. Dudes you can hang out with with no pretense of anything beyond the wings you're eating? Them telling you about the sauce all over your face with no hope of licking it off? Someone who isn't embarrassed that your shoes don't match your belt and your clutch? Or that you're not even wearing shoes? A guy who wants to hang out with you and not show you off as a trophy he has pillaged and plundered for? Yesyesyes. YES.
Steps for cultivating friendship - any friendship:
1) Learn to treat people with respect
2) Learn to look past differences
3) Be kind and civil
4) See beyond skin color, background, socio-economic status, and sex
And the most important friendship rule: look at people and see them for the person they are and not for what you can get out of them.
If you follow these rules you too can have friends. Even friends who have different junk than you do.
I will make you a promise. If we ever meet and become friends I won't put you in the boyfriend zone if you won't put me in the girlfriend zone.
Not everyone you meet has to fit into a box you have pre-packaged for them. If you can't be friends without longing for some sweet meat then say so and move on.
Question - how many of your exes would you be friends with if you hadn't shared a plate of bangers and mash? Me? 99% of them. And I miss them all for one reason or another and none of that missing has anything to do with their hang lows.
Stay shiny, kittens.
Though North Dakota is wonderful in many ways, it lacks what I love most. Water. There isn't much free-flowing around these parts that isn't brown or man-made. Don't worry about me though, I make do with 900 baths a day. Or zero if I have the day off. Closer to zero on most days.
And I'm oh kay with that. I don't mind my own funk. It's a heady aroma of awesome, wonderfulness, and pretzel. It's the pretzel that brings all the boys to the yard, yo. And they're starting to kill the grass beneath my balcony.
I'm getting married (again) soon and I have been thinking of old lovers. And old friends who wanted to be lovers. And old friends who never wanted to be lovers. I miss those the most. Especially the old friends/never lovers who were of the male persuasion. They do exist and I want mine back.
Of course men and women can be friends with absolutely no benefits. And it's fucking awesome. Dudes you can hang out with with no pretense of anything beyond the wings you're eating? Them telling you about the sauce all over your face with no hope of licking it off? Someone who isn't embarrassed that your shoes don't match your belt and your clutch? Or that you're not even wearing shoes? A guy who wants to hang out with you and not show you off as a trophy he has pillaged and plundered for? Yesyesyes. YES.
Steps for cultivating friendship - any friendship:
1) Learn to treat people with respect
2) Learn to look past differences
3) Be kind and civil
4) See beyond skin color, background, socio-economic status, and sex
And the most important friendship rule: look at people and see them for the person they are and not for what you can get out of them.
If you follow these rules you too can have friends. Even friends who have different junk than you do.
I will make you a promise. If we ever meet and become friends I won't put you in the boyfriend zone if you won't put me in the girlfriend zone.
Not everyone you meet has to fit into a box you have pre-packaged for them. If you can't be friends without longing for some sweet meat then say so and move on.
Question - how many of your exes would you be friends with if you hadn't shared a plate of bangers and mash? Me? 99% of them. And I miss them all for one reason or another and none of that missing has anything to do with their hang lows.
Stay shiny, kittens.
Thursday, April 30, 2015
The T.O.V.A. Sweater
(Better Known as The Armagh by Alice Starmore)
It's a gorgeous spring day here is partly sunny/always windy Fargo. Hello kittens.
There are certain projects I try to work on in only certain places. My church knitting is gift knitting or knitting I plan to give to others. I like to pray over the piece, letting each stitch absorb as much goodness and love as it can. At least that's what I tell myself.
My Wednesday mornings are spent at a small psychological services office administering testing for a child psychologist. Most of the tests are done solely by the patient with little interaction from me. "Do this and this and this and this. Let me know when you're done." This leaves me with a considerable amount of downtime. So I, you know, knit.
I have been working on the T.O.V.A. sweater primarily during these times of utter boredom. Uhhhh...
Moonwalk with me, kittens.
The T.O.V.A. is a test that is comprised of two beeps. That's it. A high toned beep and a low one. Two beeps, one every two seconds in a completely random order, for approximately 22 minutes. Someone who is taking this test has to pay attention to the beeps and react accordingly per my instructions. I used to sit patiently and watch them and make sure they were staying on task but, as so many who take the test learn, I found my mind wandering. So I started knitting during this time. I can focus on something - which keeps my brain from going on walkabout - and pay attention to keeping their mind from taking a good short nap. It's a win-win-win. And then some as I also work at a hospital (I miss Microsoft) and they don't allow knitting there. It's sad, I know. My cries of "But I'm just sitting here anyway and my hands aren't doing anything" fall on never-been-knitted-for ears.
Where was I?
Yes, knitting at work. I try and keep up stitch for beep. Unfortunately, the pattern is stranded so swapping out yarns doesn't always allow for this goal. If only I were a picker and not a thrower. In another life, brother.
How is my T.O.V.A. sweater coming along? Beepingly.
It's a gorgeous spring day here is partly sunny/always windy Fargo. Hello kittens.
There are certain projects I try to work on in only certain places. My church knitting is gift knitting or knitting I plan to give to others. I like to pray over the piece, letting each stitch absorb as much goodness and love as it can. At least that's what I tell myself.
My Wednesday mornings are spent at a small psychological services office administering testing for a child psychologist. Most of the tests are done solely by the patient with little interaction from me. "Do this and this and this and this. Let me know when you're done." This leaves me with a considerable amount of downtime. So I, you know, knit.
I have been working on the T.O.V.A. sweater primarily during these times of utter boredom. Uhhhh...
Moonwalk with me, kittens.
The T.O.V.A. is a test that is comprised of two beeps. That's it. A high toned beep and a low one. Two beeps, one every two seconds in a completely random order, for approximately 22 minutes. Someone who is taking this test has to pay attention to the beeps and react accordingly per my instructions. I used to sit patiently and watch them and make sure they were staying on task but, as so many who take the test learn, I found my mind wandering. So I started knitting during this time. I can focus on something - which keeps my brain from going on walkabout - and pay attention to keeping their mind from taking a good short nap. It's a win-win-win. And then some as I also work at a hospital (I miss Microsoft) and they don't allow knitting there. It's sad, I know. My cries of "But I'm just sitting here anyway and my hands aren't doing anything" fall on never-been-knitted-for ears.
Where was I?
Yes, knitting at work. I try and keep up stitch for beep. Unfortunately, the pattern is stranded so swapping out yarns doesn't always allow for this goal. If only I were a picker and not a thrower. In another life, brother.
How is my T.O.V.A. sweater coming along? Beepingly.
Wednesday, April 15, 2015
Begin Again. Again.
And now my creative juices are starting to flow again. Again. And I have all these past writings that I want to get on here. Except I...misplaced them. But OH! when I find them again. Then I will have them. Again.
Love you kittens!
Love you kittens!
Monday, October 20, 2014
I Applesauce, Therefore I Must Have A Lot Of Apples.
TODAY! I can applesauce. Can I applesauce? STAY TUNED!
Well, a week or so ago, The Doll and I got our grubby little mitts on 70+ Honeycrisp apples.
What to do, what to do? APPLESAUCE! And if you're finding yourself with your own apple madness, keep those peels! There's lots you can do with them!
But - UGH - how do I prepare that many apples (peel, cut, core) without wanting to murder anyone within the vicinity of a million miles?!
TA DA!
No, not the slave labor of a small child but an apple peeler! Yes, this is from AVON and I just so happen to sell AVON but I still would have needed one anyway sooooooo...moving on!
Let me show you what happens when you have 20-30 minutes and a mighty fine apple-slaughtering machine:
That's not true. That took about 10 minutes.
And that, kittens and toms, is that!
Oh, and all those peels?
Added the leftover water from the hot tubbing fun of the apples to the peels and simmered. Oh. My. Goodness. It is perfect and warm and stinking the house up something wonderfully.
Mission accomplished? Sure. If the pressure cooker doesn't kill us all.
Well, a week or so ago, The Doll and I got our grubby little mitts on 70+ Honeycrisp apples.
What to do, what to do? APPLESAUCE! And if you're finding yourself with your own apple madness, keep those peels! There's lots you can do with them!
But - UGH - how do I prepare that many apples (peel, cut, core) without wanting to murder anyone within the vicinity of a million miles?!
TA DA!
No, not the slave labor of a small child but an apple peeler! Yes, this is from AVON and I just so happen to sell AVON but I still would have needed one anyway sooooooo...moving on!
Let me show you what happens when you have 20-30 minutes and a mighty fine apple-slaughtering machine:
APPLE SLICES!
APPLE GOOP!
APPLESAUCE!
And that, kittens and toms, is that!
Oh, and all those peels?
APPLE JUICE!
Added the leftover water from the hot tubbing fun of the apples to the peels and simmered. Oh. My. Goodness. It is perfect and warm and stinking the house up something wonderfully.
Mission accomplished? Sure. If the pressure cooker doesn't kill us all.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)