“Our birthdays are feathers in the broad wing of time.”
Jean Paul Richter (1763-1825)
Oh, wow. I got several last minute entrants in the ducky contest. Please forgive me, but I’m horrible at these decisive sort of things. To continue being an innocent bystander in my own life (joking, just joking), I’ve decided to set up a poll. Give me a day or two, and you guys can choose who’s picture is wackiest. (I’m such a wuss, I’m sorry)
In other news, I am finally on the Fiber Arts Bloggers ring. Just when I was seriously considering quiting my other rings (because they take up a lot of sidebar space), but I guess I’ll just take it as a sign that they need to stay put.
Next on the list. Oh, yes, birthday-ness. Thank you, everyone! You’re all so sweet (and slightly crazy, which is why I love all y’all). Tonight was the birthday dinner. I have a long-standing history of having birthdays that SUCK immensely. It all started on my 17th birthday (the first one in Oregon, btw) where we all spent the night in the ER because my cousin (who was living with us at the time) had to have emergency brain surgery.
Fun. Although, I freely I admit he had the least fun of all of us that night.
Anyway, in each year since something has always happened. The year after that one, Mum and I were practically living in the hospital to care for my cousin. And the year after that I was sick with the stomach flu, and the males ate all of my cake before I was recovered enough to eat anything opaque. I still haven’t forgiven them since (my Mum made me a raspberry chocolate cake from scratch *sob*).
After those 3 gems, I decided to stop celebrating my birthday because they seemed to be following a pattern. But, this year, I let Emmos talk me into having a dinner. The dinner was … well, the kitchen didn’t burn down. But, the roast refused to cook all the way through and then it was overdone. And… ohwell. There was lots of chocolate. So much chocolate that we were all whimpering a bit.
M took the obligatory pix. Here’s a fantastic one that you might just be able to blackmail me with later. I have no idea what was going on to make me have that face, but…
- a knitting notions pouch (from M, with Euphoria truffles)
- a Clover needle felting tool, Weasley Wizarding Wheezes (Canary Creams, Fainting Fancies, and Ton Tongue Toffee), sheepy goodies for my “flock”, and a collection of hand cream (great timing on that, btw, Emmos)
And, so, once all the mess was mostly cleaned up and the girls had gone home to collapse, I decided to do something insane (don’t act surprised like that). I unwound about a 1/2 ounce of my handspun alpaca cobweb singles and cast on following a shawl pattern in Traditional Knitted Lace (Waterman) thinking that I’d have enough to make a head kerchief. After an episode and a half of The X-Files, I had gotten to row 20. And then the unthinkable happened.
My nail snagged (don’t you dare say anything Emmos) on the yarn, ripping it. Presenting me with this loverly little hole:
To which I went, “oh” (I think I’m bottling my anger up for later) and decided that this was a sign that I needed to quit now, and do something less insane. So, I came online. My only other thing to mention is that I have finished spinning the yarn for the Magic Yarn Ball Swap (2) and it is currently drying on a rack in the sewing room.