A Day in the Life

I woke up this morning feeling like PDiddy. I'm taking creative license in assuming that he feels like a groggy teenager who would rather stick bamboo shoots under his fingernails than go to school. Prom was generally successful, and I'm still exhausted from toting around the 10 pounds of hairspray that held my hair together for four hours. I'm working on a baby blanket that kept me up 'till midnight--that and watching House reruns--and it's a really simple basketweave pattern (k5, p5, k5, p5...50 sts for five rows and alternate for five rows and repeat to desired length) that looks precious. PS- does Ke$ha even know what Mick Jagger looks like?

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Spider Solitaire

So my mom and I decided to do a diet cleanse before prom, since the dress I'm borrowing is about two sizes too small for me. I'll need more than Crisco and fishing twine to fit into this baby. But I'm really in the mood to wear something like this. I doubt I'd have to survive on steamed cabbage and whey shakes for a week to make the hamburger dress work. Now accepting votes for my next wild knit project--I've run out of crazy ideas so it's time to ask the audience.

I have an audience, right?

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Happy Easter!

The newly released Ipad sounds a little sketchy at best. Personally, I was under the impression that Tampax and Apple teamed up to make some sort of digitized feminine hygiene product. Like I said--sketchy.

Anyway, Happy Easter. I'll be spending this holiday knitting a pale green beanie for my trip to France. Should be the same color as my Monkey Punk Rock Backpack. Not terribly exciting, but I'll be spending time with the family and working on my vegetable garden as well. I think we're going to paque eggs this year, should be fun. Joyeux Paques!

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Owl mittens, sweaters, etc.

Finished the Owl Mittens, thank goodness--I just have to buy a tapestry needle small enough to thread yarn through the buttonholes of 1/8th inch pearl buttons for the eyes. Just started an Anthropologie inspired capelet from the Winter '05 Catalog to match my Easter dress. Currently having a bit of trouble with the sleeves, I think I'm just not used to the raglan pattern, though it seems moderately simple...We'll see how that turns out. Turns out I was nominated out of the 200 some odd seniors as one of the top three 'Wittiest' students. Clearly my peers were strapped for options if my name got tossed in the hat.

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Senior Favorites

I feel like Senior Favorites are just another way to tell me how unpopular I am. And how unnatural it is that I only leave my room on Church holidays and days when Walmart has a sale on yarn.

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The Possum Slayer/ Mortician

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Are You Calling Me Fat?

A Day in the Life of a Garbanzo Bean [Rough Draft of my Autobiography]

Monday, March 22, 2010
I've come down with the worst case of senioritis I've ever imagined. Despite persistent efforts to study this weekend, I was forced, by nature of my affliction, to skip around in the sunshine and plant a patio vegetable garden--I enjoy pretending that I'm a hobbit. Anyway, it came to pass this morning that my dog--a rather largish black lab--had a bit of a tussle with a possum sometime in the wee hours. Rather than abandon the task of disposing of the monster to my father or, better yet, my thirteen year old brother who id genetically engineered to enjoy the sight of mangled corpses, I, the seventeen year old girl, was asked to bury the poor ole' chap while my father supervised with the flashlight [since it was still dark out] And, as I laboriously crafted a trench for the lad, I pondered the strange reversal of roles that was taking place--that I should have to tote such a weighty carcass into its earthen casket and give the pest a proper sendoff. Not that I wasn't proud; just call me the Possum Slayer. Since it is Monday, however, I had little time to gloat over my conquest of the dratted thing before time constraints forced me to school [The Dreaded Institution, Via Della Rosa, etc.] where a friend and I discussed the semblance between Keira Knightley, Gandalf the Grey, and a Shetland Pony. More to come--it's only 10 AM. Suffice it to say I'll have more news by High Tea. Pip, pip, cheerio.

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