Just Keep Spinning, Just Keep Spinning ...

That's what we do, we spiiiiiin!

It's been two (three?) days, and I haven't given up on the spinning. It's all still a slobby, uneven mess, but at least I'm doing it. I'm remarkably pleased with the fact that, even though it resembles a lower intestine more than yarn, that I haven't given up and backed over it with my car. Baby steps, people.

I feel like I should be catching flies with chopsticks, or something.

I haven't posted any pictures. Although I'm feeling very zen and calm about making stringy crap, I'm not evolved enough to actually show anybody outside my immediate family.

When it's a little less than crap, I may show and tell.

Look Look See See

Isn't it pretty? I rented it from the LYS, to see if I like the model (Kromski Sonata). So far, I do ... even though I haven't quite got the hang of it.

No more posting today, I gots me a new toy!

It's Hard to Dance With a Utility Belt

Well, I survived the reunion. And, all in all, I'd have to say that it didn't totally suck, either. After 20 years and 3 Long Island ice teas, all the petty high school bullshit pretty much goes out the window. Thankfully, I can't say the same for my clothing: My behind stayed completely covered and out of the public domain. I resisted the urge to say on the questionnaire that I killed the President of Paraguay with a fork, but I did run around and tell anyone that listened that I invented Post-Its and was Batman. It's a wonder I wasn't more popular in high school.

Speaking of school, I took the kids shopping this weekend. My daughter can't fit into the 4-5Ts anymore, we had to venture across the aisle into the wilds of the Big Girl section. I'm not a prude, but is it really necessary to dress our girls like miniature crack whores? It's poignant and bittersweet enough to realize she's growing up (and who thought that would be a good idea? I mean, really!), but when she gravitated toward a skirt that was in reality a glorified belt, I consider it a personal triumph that I didn't immediately pick her up and run screaming toward the nearest Boys are Evil parochial school for girls. At the end of it all, what I spent was roughly equal to what it would cost to power Wrigley Field for two nights running. Which is a good thing, since they will outgrow absolutely everything in two weeks.

I have been simultaneously dreading and anxiously awaiting the time when the kids go back to school. The house will be quiet, I will be alone ... I will have to do something constructive to justify my not going back to work and what the hell was I thinking, anyway?!? Working for somebody else and sneaking in a game of computer solitaire while the boss isn't looking isn't the same as working for myself and playing Sims all day instead of earning my bread and butter (or, to be more accurate, my crackers and margarine, I'm no Donald Trump), I have to keep my own ass in gear.

And, speaking of revved up asses, today I made stitch markers! And they are lovely. This claim will have to be taken on faith, until such time as I get the time and will to present them to you, in glorious and Etsy-worthy picture form.

I'm also drooling over the prospect of my new sewing machine (will be hopefully procured when the kids are off at school and I can browse and test-run some models without having to unsew small fingers which have become inexplicably attached together), as well as the possible spinning wheel ... I've been jonesing for one for a while, and now am at a point where I can possibly get one. I've been scouring the internet for some worthwhile video tutorials, and have not only found one, but have found a great one, complete with snazzy editing, music, and even unexpected farts. Go, take a look ... and when you come back, I'll be gone.

Because I'm Batman, that's why.

Be True To Your School

This weekend is my high school reunion. I'm going. I don't know why I'm going, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. (Which, oddly enough, is my attitude toward high school.) I don't know if anyone will remember me, I don't know if I'll remember anyone, I don't know if I'll remember dancing on the tables and mooning the class president. (I'm joking, of course. If I'm going to be dropping trou, I'll be sure and have someone record the event.)

So, in honor of my dragging myself out of the house in order to drink overpriced liquor and make small talk with people I haven't thought about in 20 years and won't want to see for another 40, I've placed my first official poll over there >>>>> on the sidebar.

Please vote. If you don't, you're letting the terrorists win.

Have a nice day, and we thank you for your support.