The Contractor, The First In A Sticker Shock Series
I love my contractor. He's a real cutie and what I call a "sleeper." Deeper than you'd expect upon first meeting. Several years ago, when he learned that Abigail was in a hoity-toity private high school for the arts, he started talking classical music and creative writing. I gotta tell ya, there is just nothing that makes the hairs on my arms stand up like a man talking classical music and creative writing while grouting my floor. When he learned she was majoring in philosophy in college, he started talking Nietzsche and Kant. While fixing the roof.
So we've got some stuff to do around here, and that's a bit of an understatement. I met with him last night to talk about some things. Of course this is no surprise because it goes without saying, but it ain't lookin' pretty for the checkbook, my friends. Stash sale for new roof? Could be. Anyway, in our conversation I made a discouraged statement about spring, what spring? and he said, "It's coming." I rolled my eyes. He said, "I know it, because the calendar says so."
Still as charming as ever.
Recently Delurked Meets Lurker In The Wild
Good morning. Ruby told me I should say hello to blogless Michelle in the Caspian Lake area of Vermont. Michelle approached Ruby somewhere out there in the wilds of Vermont and said, "I read about you in Norma's blog and recognized your work immediately." Does Michelle know me? Nope. Does she know Ruby? Well, sort of, in a roundabout way. Does she know Judy? Nope. But apparently reads my blog every day. Michelle, put your socks back on, since I imagine I just knocked them off. Heh. I live for knocking people's socks off. Hey, Michelle, have you seen this button before?
Well, would it?! And maybe we should all meet up at Sarducci's again sometime soon.
What'll They Think of Next?
Allow me to exclaim once again how much I love Gmail. Not only does it boast, "You'll never have to delete another email," and it has lots of great features, it gives me links to other things of interest, too. We've already talked at length about the links to wonderful gourmet Spam recipes, and I could go on and on about some of the other interesting things it links me to, but I won't just now. Today I will talk about only one:
Because of all my comments and emails about my dream of owning a sweet little Airstream trailer, I was linked by Gmail to the best (or worst -- you be the judge) of all links in the whole wide world.
This gives "I Can Haz Cheezburger?" a whole new meaning. It's the perfect dream gone wrong: Me on the open road in my little Airstream, and dinner is only a can away. So then I found a review that is good for some perverse entertainment.
Picot, Take Two
"If at first you don't succeed, failure may be your style." ~Quentin Crisp
I decided I didn't really want the tourniquet effect that a snug-fitting inelastic picot edge would give my sock, so I searched around for a ribbed picot. I didn't find one, but I found the next best thing, a picot cast-on. It's talked about in a few places, but this is the one I am using, and I think it's turning out beautiful! It remains to be seen if it works the way I hope it will. It might be ruffly on the top, and that's ok with me too.
Them's Fightin' Words
So an anonymous (I'm sure well-meaning but misguided) scientist left this comment the other day: