Day: January 27, 2005

So if/when I have my own company someday? My people (ok, my dogs) will have to listen to “Black Betty” by Ram Jam at least once a week. On eleven. WHOA Black Betty, bam-e-lam.

We’ll probably have to listen to over half of this “Blow” soundtrack I borrowed from Stephanie. Manfred Man Earth Band’s on it! I’m rockin’. Headphones are the GREATEST THING EVER. Good thing I can type and refrain from air guitarin’…………….

I don’t care what Mamma says. Look into the eyes of the sun: that’s where the fun is. OK. Keyboard solo……

But I am married to an awesome guy. He thinks that every small thing he does that doesn’t meet the Princess’ Approval (that would be ME) is fodder for the destruction of his public image amongst my friends & co-workers. It’s not, honestly – we just all swap stories to remind ourselves that we, as women, have cornered the market on superiority in some areas, and are reassured to hear that all menfolk engage in the same “stuff”. They have the market cornered on things like sports, sports trivia, guns, moving large heavy objects with each other communicating only through grunts and whistles, and dealing with car things. And peeing their name in the snow. TOTALLY cornered the market on that one, dudes.

However. All of that aside, I wanted to trumpet my praises for him because I probably forget to say “thank you” and “I appreciate it”, especially when I’m shooting the Brimstone and Anger out of my eyes, as much as I try to hit the off switch when I pull in the driveway.

My hubby has taken CARE OF ME this week, the worst week ever. He took out the garbage AND the 8,000 lbs of recycling (because we’d screwed up and missed the pickup two weeks ago and four weeks of recycling in our house is like a dumpster’s worth, it seems. I am the Recycling Princess, among my other titles, and fanatical about it. All those years in MinneSOta conditioned me for my Recycling Rule of Terror:”GASP! That can is to be recycled!” and “You can’t recycle THIS! JAMES!”) He has taken care of all dishwasher duties. My big contribution was to close the door on it the other morning, and it was purely selfish – I didn’t want to crack my shin. He has taken care of the dogs, constantly. He has been my prep cook, cutting & dicing and opening cans so I do the Fun, TV Show part of cooking. He made li’l smokies & homemade french fries last night, and this is the best part, put FIVE BOTTLES OF BEER in a bowl, on ice. I wanted to uncap three on the spot and drink them all at once. But I did not. I barely got through the second one, my dreams of pounding down the brewskis have long been bigger than reality, and alas, alack, I can no longer hold my own like I did in those college years.

And this? This was awesome. I’d forgotten ALL about my pile of wet laundry that I never hung up and had sat on top of the dryer, for, like, a week. And he re-washed it for me last night. You’re the greatest, sweetie! The Greatest Sweetie. I love you! Thank you!

…..with great thanks & apologies to Lewis Carroll, and his “Walrus and the Carpenter” poem.

“KnitterWocky”

The time has come,” the Husband said,

“To talk of many things:

Of yarn–in skeins–and pattern books–

Of needles and stitch rings–

And why that bit has got a knot–

And where to stash these strings.”

“But wait a bit,” the Knitter cried,

“Before we have our chat;

Even if we‘re truly out of room,

I never tried to tat!”

“No hurry!” said her husband.

She thanked him much for that.

“An online auction,” the Hubby said,

“Is what we chiefly need:

Knitters and Bidders everywhere

Are very good indeed–

Now if you’re ready, my Knitting dear,

We can begin to weed.”

“But not my yarn!” the Knitter cried,

Turning a little green.”

After all the shopping I‘ve gone through,

That would be very mean!”

“These yarns are fine,” the Husband said.

“You‘ll never knit these, too!”

“But this one’s wool! and these are silk!”

The Knitter began to wail.

“I simply cannot let them go!”

Her husband shook his head.

“I give up!” he laughed, and with a sigh,

Made his way to bed.

And so her stashing style grew more,

Hiding bags and such,

It’s Noro, it was all on sale!

Can you really have too much?

An AbFab kit, in creamy pinks,

“It called to me,” she said.

Her Mission, it did truly seem,

was simple in its scheme

To buy up all the yarn she saw

And knit it in her dreams….

I wrote this for our Guild Newsletter, May, 2004. Yeah, that’s a copyright statement, I do believe. Steal without crediting me and YE SHALL SUFFER. Unholy boils & blisters, not to mention all your yarn will be KNOTTED and TANGLED. On that note, have a spectacular day!