Monday, November 16, 2009
Dear Interwebs:
Please excuse Rabbitch for being absent, but she has been sic (sic).
Sincerely,
Rabbitch
Those of you who have friended me on Facebook are aware from my endless whining updates that I've been battling the ick for a couple of weeks now. For the rest of you, here's the summary:
Started with sort of a cold, went into flu (possibly Hamthrax, didn't get swabbed) then ended up with bronchitis/pneumonia type stuff, because clearly I'm an overachiever.
For the first time in five years I actually caved and went to the clinic and am now taking antibiotics. Clarithromycin. It's very nasty (and very expensive) stuff, but it seems to be working. There has been a horrible taste in my mouth for about a week now, which I'm hoping proves that it's working. The whole being able to breathe and talk again thing is also a good indication that it's working.
I'm sleeping -- a LOT -- and working, also a lot, and I should be back on my paws again within a few days. I promise I'll come up with something more entertaining to post.
For now ... it's back to bed, for morning (and my next shift at work) comes early.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Buddy Can You Spare a Dime?
Or $5? Or a scarf?
Yet again, my buddy Norma is doing a thingie for the Red Scarf Project. I'm in a rush here (at work, stealthblogging in between misdirecting calls) so there's no linky-loo there, but there are links all over Norma's page, 'cause she's like that.
Anyhow, they've gotten about 20% of the hoped-for number of scarves, I believe, and they're far, far short of their monetary goal, also. If you've got time to knit a scarf (shut up, there is no Christmas Knitting going on) or a spare $5 (or more) ... won't you go help a girl out? There are tons of fabulous prizes, and, of course, there's the glory ...
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Send Help. Now. And a Brassiere.
I just went outside. Something big fell down my neck.
I grabbed and pulled out what I think was a big spider leg but it might have been a twig (the joys of living in the woods is that one can never be sure).
I flailed at myself for a while then ran in and took off both shirts. I asked my husband to check if there was a pissed-off 7-legged spider on me.
He took off my bra instead.
So now my boobs are to my knees and I think I have an angry spider in my pants.
Anyone have any bug spray?
Saturday, October 10, 2009
So How Was Your Day?
Me, I've still got lots to tell but I've been busy.
Let's see, my car is still in need of work (I think either another engine mount has gone or the almost-new transmission is fucked -- knowing my luck it's both), I've discovered that the District, who owns my house, wants to knock it down (fortunately not with me in it; they've given me lots of time to move. Haha! Does anyone know of a large house in North Vancouver, complete with studio, that I can get for under $1300 a month? No, I didn't think so), my kid has been sick so I've had her underfoot riding the Drama Llama for several days, and oh yes, I'm making something special for someone and tonight I spun about five yards of mulberry silk.
It wasn't so much spinning as careful and painful twisting, inch by inch, because I really needed the silk and it really needed not to be a wreck and I really didn't have time to learn how to spin silk because I need it right away.
So I twisted it, slowly, carefully, painfully (OK, not so much pain; it was fun, I'm just using that poetic license thing here) and set the twist and then dyed it an amazing shade of a deep, deep burgundy red sort of thingie.
And then, while pouring out the excess dye, the silk (which is slippery) flooped out of the pot and disappeared down the bathroom sink which has no little mesh junk-catcher thing in it.
So now I have red hands, a broken car, I'm soon to have no home (and I've got to pack and MOVE all of this shit!) and there are five yards of beautiful silk somewhere down a sink that the District won't repair because they want me to move.
So hi. I'm fine and I'm still here but it's a little ... fraught around here today.
So how you doing? (someone pass me a beer, will you?)
Saturday, September 26, 2009
The Sun Is Shining ...
... or at least it was earlier today. The birds were singing, too.
The alpacas were humming, the goats were eating everything in sight, the sheep were fighting (well, only two of them), everything except the bunnies was bellowing and Franklin was knitting.
Day one of OFFF was very successful. I came away with three small bags of fibre (and only two nasty emails from my husband).
All in all an excellent day. Off to sleep to prepare for more sheep-patting tomorrow.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
I Am A Bad, Bad, Blogger
And likely a reprehensible human being. I think we all know that, yes?
But before I continue the saga (which I truly will try to finish in the next two days before I leave for OFFF -- at which I am not vending but at which I shall most assuredly be spending) I would like to bring to your attention a little fundraiser my good friend Mel is running over on his blog.
Mosey on over and take a peek and send a dollar or two if you can, mmkay?
And then I'll tell you all about how I lost my virginity at Denny's in Portland. (no really, I did.)
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Let's Start At The Very Beginning
It's a very good place to start (or so the story goes).
(My apologies for my disappearance. Apparently 6 days and ten hours are one and the same to me, which may explain why I have not been allowed to chair meetings for several years now. I started my "ten hours" by doing the same thing I do every fall -- I go to bed for a nap and sleep for about 24 hours.
I have done this when the weather turns pretty much every fall that I can remember; I think perhaps I have the urge to hibernate or something.
And yet, every time it happens I think I have mono again or maybe I'm dying. I don't seem to learn particularly quickly -- every spring I think I'm getting a cold until I realize it's allergy season again.
Anyhow, I went to sleep, stayed passed out more-or-less for about 24 hours or a little more, and I've been scrambling to catch up with everything ever since. So far I have failed to do so.
But I digress.)
Yes, let's start at the very beginning. I know you perverts were hoping that we'd jump straight into the juicy details of The Happenings At The No-Tell Motel, however you're going to have to put up with me making a long story even longer. We haven't even gotten to the border yet.
Now, where was I? Oh yes, I was rabbiting about the landscape, hoping against hope that I could make 3 skeins turn into enough yarn to fill half a booth.
Despite the wobbliness of my confidence (and occasionally my knees) I thought I should book myself into the fibre fest in Victoria first to get my feet wet again. (Alas, I got my feet very, very wet as it was slightly rainy, as per usual, and the festival is held atop a windy bluff.)
I spent the next couple of weeks dyeing everything in sight and skeining madly while working graveyard shifts (fortunately I can skein stuff at work). As I mentioned before, the sales in Victoria were very disappointing, however reconnecting with old friends and acquaintances was most rewarding. At the end of the Fest, I gave all of my unsold yarn to the nice folks at Knotty by Nature to sell, and merrily returned to Vancouver.
Only to realize that a) I had almost no stock left and b) I really couldn't afford to place an order with my supplier.
(Um, yes. This whole "planning ahead" thing takes a little getting used to. Shut up.)
The long and the short of it is that I ended up getting the bulk of my stock in-house about ten days before we were due to leave for Portland. A couple of days before it was time to leave, I packed and shipped everything and decided enough was enough and I'd just deal with it, until the night before we were about to leave, when I looked at the list of items that I'd promised as door prizes and for the silent auction and realized that I hadn't dyed any -- not one skein -- of one of the promised colourways.
Words were said. Some were repeated, emphatically. Yarn was dyed.
And on the morning of August 5 I wended my dye-splattered way, with a suitcase full of bags of moist yarn (and I emphatically agree with Joe when he names "moist" as the most unpleasant word in the English language) to Abbotsford, where Barb B, my father and I, in classic style (and stylish class) parked our cars in the McDonald's parking lot and then ambled over to Tim Horton's to have coffee before starting on our journey.
I'm now at work, trying to finish my meal (I no longer have a name for the thing I eat in the middle of the night) and finish my paperwork (for which I have many names) and make a list of things that I would do today if I weren't going to be comatose; therefore, this saga is, once again ...
to be continued ...
