I Miss My Best Friend

Hello kittens. My knitting has gone rogue since much of it is for Christmas. Today, as Thanksgiving nears and I am going on 40 days of working without a day off, I am thankful for many things. As many things as I am grateful for I am also lamenting things that I have lost.

I am thankful for my family. My Wee One...

is of the most wonderful things ever to have existed in the universe. As frustrating as she is, she is a million times more wonderful and glorious to behold than anything the 'verse has to offer. Splenderifious, I believe, is the word.

My Doll, 

or as I am thinking of calling him: El Jefe, is seriously one of the most brilliant people that has ever existed. The scarf is proof of that. It is the scarf that makes the man. And I made the scarf so...

But the name of this post references a best friend and that is what I am sorely missing today. There was once a person who was my best friend. This person embodied all that which is required of a best friend: trust, honesty, loveliness, truthfulness, and absolute loyalty. We never seem to miss those people until they're gone, do we?

I've never experienced the absoluteness of someone before. It is...shattering. Life-shattering. Life-altering. Forever changed, forever better no matter how long the friendship lasts. Days. Weeks. Years. Sometimes people have such profound impacts on our life we are irrevocably changed for the better. And, yes. I am changed for the better. Forever changed for the better.

I miss my friend. Have you ever had a friend that you miss with every fiber of your being? Their thread is woven so deeply into the fabric of your life that without them, you start to unravel?

I am a Whovian. I was BEYOND OVEREXCITED to watch the 50th anniversary episode. And when I had watched it I wanted to sit, over coffee, and discuss it at length. With my friend. Who isn't my friend anymore. It hit me hard today. My best friend used to listen. My best friend used to talk about everything with me. My friend used to talk about nothing with me. My best friend used to hug me. My best friend used to get excited for the things I got excited for. Even if it wasn't exciting. My best friend used to be there for me no matter what. My best friend used to be there.

Since losing my best friend I have made new friends. There are work friends, friends of friends, mom friends, used to date but are now just friends friends, and other various friends. Lots of friends. Everywhere friends. But no best friend. No one to run to when the shit hits the fan or even when the fan just stops working and the whole place smells to high heaven (what does that mean, exactly?) due to all the shit that hasn't hit the fan. Yet.

I mourn everyday for my friend. My friend was the best thing that had happened to my life until my Wee One. I would have gladly lived the rest of my life in blissful ignorance with my best friend if my Wee One hadn't come along. Completely unexpectedly come along. I mean along the lines of a miracle come along. But things never work out the way they should. Call it human nature. Call it karma. Call it kismit. Call it bullshit. Call it what you will but things rarely end in kisses and sappy music over end credits.

My best friend doesn't want to know me anymore. My best friend doesn't want to hear about my days. My nights. My life. My best friend doesn't want to know anything about me. My best friend helped make me what I am and my friend doesn't want to care. 

And I am the one to blame. And I want to talk to my best friend about all of this but I can't. And I miss him. 

Start At The Beginning And When You Come To The End, Stop.

Oh, Kittens. It's been a while since we shared a moment or two of blissful stranger closeness. (That's a thing, right?) Forgive me for not keeping you in the forefront of my mind but all that really resides there are song lyrics and movies I watched in the 1980's. Why doesn't Netflix have Just One Of The Guys?!?!?!

So what has been happening in your worlds? I'm hungry for chips so I have that going on. Also, I'm almost out of pickles so if anyone can make that unhappen I'd be super grateful. Plus, my kool-aid tastes funky soooo...yeah (orange is the best, bitties).

My knitting has taken the back burner to the past week's events and I am FEELING it. There is something therapeutic about pointy sticks and soft yarn that makes the doldrums go away. Can one who is land-locked have those? It does nothing to help a stuffy nose though and I am draining the worlds Kleenex stores by the forest-ful.

Hey! I got a new job and then didn't get a new job. Turns out not drinking coffee drinks (lattes, mochas, cappa-frappa-cuppaccinos) really adversely affects one's ability to make and serve them. I was rubbish at it. Lines of people don't bother me. They're the ones waiting, I'm working. Pressure doesn't bother me. Pressure is something people use as an excuse to say doing X, Y, or Z is too hard. Learning new things doesn't bother me - in fact, I love learning. It keeps things interesting. But, after 3.5 to 4 days, I knew it was time to tilt my king. As I've been known to say: I've lived with myself for a long time and I know better. So ends my glorious time in food service. Que sera sera and long live whoever takes my spot in the kingdom of coffee. I'll stick to drinking it. Black, no sweetener.

My series to knit by has had to change. After much hemming and hawing, I picked Leverage. I like it but I also am in love with Timothy Hutton (insert Playing God here) and I need to WATCH it so naturally, I have made the switch to The X Files. I always lose my way or lose interest around season 4 and I have to start all over when I decide to rewatch it. Kinda like Lost. Love it. Can't remember anything about it. Begin again, my friend, begin again.

Countdown to Deadline: 41 Yuletide days and nights

Remaining sweater work: THE SAME AS A WEEK AGO!

Terror Alert Level: Baby Blue

Series to Knit by: The X Files

The Dreaded Sweater-itis

I've finally caught it. There's been something catchy going around between my knit wit friends and it got me. I have caught various knitting-related diseases from them over the years. Sock-tococcus, Mitten Mange, Scarf Barf, Fringe Fever, and, well...you get the point. But there are very few as deadly to your time and stash as Sweater-itis. Except for Blanket Pox.

Now, I know that I have the Christmas Sweater to work on and I'm still searching for Fisherman's Wool for the messenger bag but I've come down with Sweater-itis in the worst way - I'm looking through Starmore books.  STARMORE! Plus I just found this gem on the Ravelry site and am currently trying to remember where all of my zippers are.

I fear that I may not feel better until I have 28 sweaters in various stages of undoneness laying about the place and not enough coffee in the world to help me finish them. It is a vicious illness, I tell you.

On a different note, I am awaiting the news of a new position I had an interview about earlier. It wouldn't be life-altering or anything but sometimes, even when it really doesn't matter that much whether it happens or not, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers were right. The Waiting really is the hardest part.

Countdown to Deadline: 52 Yuletide days and nights

Remaining sweater work: LESS THAN YESTERDAY!

Terror Alert Level: Jungle Green

Series to Knit by: Still Leverage but watching Harry Potter with the Wee One 

You Went And Done Did It Now, Neighbor

Well...I started back up my sweater at work. I know, I know I took great care with my stitch count. I double checked my row chart. I did okay. I think. I'm too tired to care.

I am knackered from the time change and from my dodgy new neighbors waking me up at frick off o'clock so I am not having it. ANY of it. Last night, my arsehole building buddies decided to bring the bar home and watch, what I can only imagine, is the funniest movie of all time - intermittently seasoned with smokers hacking . So being the friendly, loving, caring, and patient neighbor that I am, I wrote the following note to try and make them see the error of their fun-loving, white trash ways:

Dearest Neighbor,

While I am sure you enjoy a good time as much as anyone, there is a time and place for it. The place is occasionally your apartment and the time is never at three in the morning.

The walls aren't super thin but they are not made of lead, either. You are also part of a shared ventilation system which can and does send echoes throughout many apartments.

Please consider these things the next time you want to have a good time. Thusly, consider this your first and only warning. Our building has a very low tolerance for police calls. It takes one call to get a hefty fine placed alongside your monthly rent and two to receive an eviction notice. Choose. But choose wisely.

Thanks for - hopefully - not being a bitchhole,
A neighbor concerned about your impending homelessness



I think it gets the point across nicely and that I sound quite sweet and understanding.


Just in case - is anyone looking for a new apartment that comes equipped with a super awesome, pleasant as a pheasant neighbor?

Uh Oh

Disagreements with The Doll always put me off but this...

makes my ass twitch. 

Before you ask, no. The Wee One did not commit this act of treachery. I did. And I did it at church so I couldn't cuss out loud. I did, however, ask God for forgiveness for all the swearing I did in my head.

Countdown to Deadline: 55 gosh darned, damned all to hell, fun-filled, Yuletide days and nights

Remaining sweater work: MORE THAN YESTERDAY

Terror Alert Level: Redder than red gets

Series to Re-Knit by: Fricking nothing so I don't screw up the transition rounds. Again.

The Feels And The Feelings They Give

Hello Kittens! The sweater is coming along nicely...

...and I've decided that it's a music day so I'm linking songs that are awesome to me today. To be fair, they might be awesome on other days, too, but today is today and these are awesome today. I don't really care for P-exclamation point-nk but  Blow Me (One Last Kiss) came on the radio on the drive home from work and I really dug it. I get an itch sometimes. Not the kind that needs to be cured with creams and salves but the itch that needs scratchin' with songs of the soul. So we got home, I put the Wee One in a basin full of water and tuned into my Chris Isaak station. The first song wasn't a Chris Isaak song - they don't play a lot of them on that station but what can you do? - but House Of The Rising Sun by The Animals. The video is atrocious but just listen, it will do your body good.  There were a few songs that aren't worth mentioning because they...weren't awesome for me today but then Clapton's 1992 version of Layla came on and caused a riot in my insides. I know where I was the first time I heard it and it was not a good place. But I am nostalgic for that time in my life. Don't get me wrong, most of the 90's were a shit show for me but it was a show that had a kick-ass soundtrack.

What else is happening? Oh, yeah. Learning about water displacement is big at our house lately so my place looks like a sub that's taking on water faster than I can shove cheese in my mouth hole.

I've got buckets and vases and vah-ses and coins and crap strewn all about the place. There are towels in various degrees of wetness EVERYWHERE and I had to use a tea towel to dry off my bits this morning. My sea legs are getting weary and there's no sign of the shore at Casa de Glad I Don't Pay The Water Bill Around Here.

For the rest of the night, I think me and the Wee One might just snuggle up, resume our knitting, and start another Harry Potter marathon. I like the one with magic in it.

One more for the road...You Wreck Me for The Doll and his love of all things Petty.

Countdown to Deadline: 56 fun-filled Yuletide days and nights

Remaining sweater work: Body and other sleeve

Terror Alert Level: Green

Series to Knit by: Leverage - just came to Hulu Plus!