Friday, June 28, 2013

Tee Gee Eye Eff...

Quickie post because I haven't said anything snarky in a while.

The job search has been somewhat of a disappointment. Strangely, this time I am not panicking. The artsy side of my brain has mutinied and is running amok, dragging the logical side through its glittery, yarn-strewn wake.

I have cranked out three baby blankets in the past few weeks, which is a record for me. One was a wee green and gold granny square blanket commissioned by a dear friend, who has far more faith in me than I believe she should. Another one started out as an experiment in ladder stitching that took on a life of its own. The third was an unfinished project from about a year ago that became an exercise in self-discipline. By some miracle, they all turned out quite well.
Baby Blue Diamond-weave blanket.

Pink gingham baby blanket.

Baby Green Bay Packers blanket, waiting for a border.
The blue and the pink ones are going up on Etsy, once I finish writing up the patterns. I spent all afternoon in this oven of a study working out the instructions for the blue one. It's turning out a bit more complicated than I had expected. I have resorted to adding my own amateur photography and shakily drawn diagrams to the document in order to convey what makes so much sense in my own lopsided brain.

It's keeping me focused and happy, and more importantly, out of the kitchen. Which, according to my ever-shrinking blue jeans, is far more dangerous. I'm sure the smoke detectors appreciate the break as well.

On another note, this evening our next door neighbors are hosting yet another Friday night get-together. From where I sit in the study, it sounds like someone is throwing furniture in their upstairs bedroom. From the patio, the neighbor's shrill friend lets loose with a laugh that sounds like an angry donkey. The only saving grace so far is the fact that I can hear Cheap Trick's "The Flame" wafting over the fence. Ah yes, Robin Zander, I want you to want me, too.

Alas, the generously flowing alcohol has apparently convinced angry donkey lady that she is Patsy Cline and must accompany the rest of tonight's soundtrack with her caterwauling. Joy. So, triple-digit temperatures or no, tonight we shall be sleeping with the window closed and the fan blasting over the barnyard cacophony next door. All the while, praying for an unexplainable yet well-timed sprinkler malfunction.

And in the morning, say about 6 or 6:30, I suspect we will need to mow the lawn. Or rearrange our metal patio furniture. Or take up yodeling. Because you just never know when you're going to need it.

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