I’m thinking that, if you are selling yourself as a hip trendy nightclub, the fact that you tag your radio spot with the location-helper: “Located between Hobby Lobby & Price Chopper”???

That kinda undermines the whole “hip-trendy” effect, peeps.

*ORT, a great crossword-puzzle word; definition: a morsel left at a meal : SCRAP (in other words, a new category for the random bits that fall out of my mind.)

When I got home last night, both dogs met me at the door. They told me about their days, and they tried the game of “Daddy di’n’t feed us, you should feed us now!” but I was on to their game, having spoken with James & he told me he’d fed them. I called them on their little trick and then we all laughed and they said they couldn’t help it, they’re labs, they have to always try for some more food!

Later on, though, Suzy came & found me, and I saw she was struggling a little to talk, but she finally confessed she had been reading my blog. (Since she’s been working really hard at expressing her feelings, I didn’t interrupt to ask whose computer she’s using.) She then said that when she saw pictures of JUST Polly yesterday, and there wasn’t even mention of her, she felt sad. And left out. I told her that I was sorry, and that I don’t mean to play favorites, but she knows as well as I do, that Polly’s younger and a lot more pushy and so sometimes that means she gets more attention, but I didn’t love her any less, and I promised to put HER pictures up today. Because Suzy’s a good dog, too.

I was sitting here with this big blank space, and I’m still rather tired, not woken up, trying to figure out what I wanted to write about today: the waiter last night, Dave Grohl, the new tv season, silliness at work, insaneness of a former workplace, you know, the general swirling maelstrom.
Then, I felt a nudge.
I looked down.
Aw. I’d much rather pet my dog. So I made her pose and told myself you’d understand. Pretty Polly just sneaks up sometimes and makes me want to play hooky & skip everything!

Oh, yeah, baby. There are people out there with “knitting blogs”, and hell, the TITLE of my blog is about knitting, but let’s not sugar coat it people. I enjoy the blog for the bitching and the kvetching and the shouting and the laughing, and sometimes I give you knitting updates. So today I give you some updating on how I do spend a lot of my time!

These are socks for JWo; custom-fit, toe-up, using Lucy Neatby’s little square toe. I did not like the idea for leaving the heel until the end, so I abandoned the pattern for hodge-podging my own. The yarn is Regia 100g, and it came in one big ball. I always do my socks at the same time! Two socks on two circs, it’s the way that works for me.

These are socks for me, and they knit up SuperFast. I don’t know why! They’re a little snug, but they feel like warm wooly feet hugs, so I’m pleased. My feet like to be hugged. The yarn is Parade, from Knit Picks, color Plum. It’s sport weight, and I got some in Pumpkin Patch for socks for James! I see from the website that they re-named it to “forest”. Whatever, I have the label that calls it punkin patch and there is no better-named yarn for my Giant Punkin Grower! The pattern is Lucy Neatby’s Mermaid Sock, with the wavy cuff. The twisted rib was really fun, and I think contributed to why it went so quickly. The self-striping made it look like I was making entrelac socks, but really, it’s a simple pattern with the stitch & the yarn making the magic. Also, the big short-row heel was awesome. Loved it. No gaping holes, no doing slip stitches, just a cushy garter stitch. I’ll be using that heel again! If you like to knit socks, her book “Cool Socks, Warm Feet” is a must-have.

This is the start of my clapotis. I worked on it on & off in the car yesterday; it at least made the drive go faster! I managed to get more stitches between the markers than I think is called for? And I. Don’t. Care. It’s a scarf, it’s adjustable, and I’m capable of adapting the pattern to my mistakes! So we’ll see how I feel about it when it’s done! LOL! I’m using an extremely soft sock yarn from Knit Picks, Sock Landscapes, in color Rocky Mountain Dusk. I have four skeins of it (so I’ve got more yardage to play with as I “adjust” this pattern), and the Clapotis will cost me $16, vs. the $90 I’d pay to use the called-for Lion & Lamb. Sigh. Yes, I realize I’m not knitting with silk/wool in an exquisite colorway….and yes, I’m using Hello Kitty & Spongebob Squarepants shoe charms for some of my stitch markers. I’m just a Knitta With Attitude. Look for my hip-hop album to drop next year…..

So I’m finally gettin’ going on having the clap. The clapotis, that is. I pronounce it clap*o*TEE, but I’m sure there are as many ways to say it as there are knitting styles. In any case, I’m going to use my commute time tomorrow to get goin’ on it – given that I’m spending over 5 hours in the car to & from a new business meeting. I already told the guys who’re going with me that I’ll be in the backseat, knitting. Forewarned is forearmed, baby.

My old boss used to denegrate a franchisee who would go to meetings & bring her knitting, because she said it was so unprofessional looking, and it made the woman look stupid. I asked if the meetings were really boring & unproductive, and she enthusiastically agreed with me….. I might have muttered something about how instead then, she was pretty smart, using that time to accomplish something worthwhile. (Oh, and nevermind that the woman was a millionaire, as required to even BE a franchisee.)

It’s all about the culture, isn’t it? Excellent article in today’s KC Star, reviewing a book I plan on getting, called “Bait & Switch”. Basically, white-collar corporate America is more interested in creating a “culture” based on “personality”, and the desirable personality profile is one that looks just like the people running the place. Because yes-men and people who think just like their bosses? Now that’s creativity, people……

OK, that’s a horribly petty title. But good grief. First off, is anyone REALLY surprised that Renee Zellweger & Kenny Chesney are no more? That their marriage, like the Monty Python parrot, is dead? (A “Fraud”, no less! Whatever that means!) eGad. It’s the price you pay, being famous, in exchange for all your fucking celebrity gift baskets (that I am positively GREEN WITH ENVY for) and your fat bank accounts, everyone gets to make fun of you for being an idiot.

See, I was thinking about this (in all that blank vacuum-esque time when training was going on, and it was being taught in Swahili, for all I could tell), that my personal approach to my marriage & most all of my relationships is what I’d describe as “the opposite of Jenga”. I prefer to build up, with precision & a steady hand, taking my time to lay the small wooden sticks in order to create the strongest foundation possible. These speedy-flash marriages make me visualize a Jenga tower, thrown together & stacked high, without a lot of care or thought into how long it might stay up, or what happens the first time one of the blocks gets knocked into, bumped, or taken out. I know, there are people who get engaged in two weeks, married in six months, and stay married for the rest of their lives. My best friend Shelley’s parents’ story was exactly that – 45 years later, they’re still chuggin’ along. If my approach classifies me as “cautious”, well, I’ll live with that. We got engaged after 3 years & 3 months of dating; married at 4 years, and now we’re at 6 years and 4 months. (Don’t worry, I don’t keep a ticker going, I use my fingers to count off from May to figure out how long it’s been.) I just don’t know how you truly know someone in less than 6 months. I had a 7-year friendship bite the dust, for pete’s sake, over basic personality & belief differences. I suppose the flip side is if you have a whirlwind romance & get hitched & keep a lot of romantic notions about love & relationships being like something out of the movies, then you’re bound to hit the rocks pretty quick-like. Kind of like your Jenga tower falling down after only two blocks get pulled out.

For the record, though, I figure if anyone’s spouse gets within seduction-range of Angelina Jolie, nobody’s marriage is safe. Hell, I’d probably leave JWo for her. (Oo! Think she’d adopt me? Then I’d get to fight Maddox and Zahara for the cool shit in her celebrity gift baskets!)

Oh. My. God.

Training is over.

I actually wrote down, “This is the point at which the cougar would start to chew his paw off.”

People, that was around 11 a.m. I just now finished up with training (with a break for lunch), and the last 35 minutes were the only ones I needed.

I wish I could hide my feelings better. Because right now I look like a mental patient with anger management issues who escaped lockdown, hasn’t had her meds in three days, and is seeking SOMEONE TO PAY FOR HER PAIN.

I love that song.

She wears a long fur coat of mink
Even in the summertime
Everybody knows from the coy little wink
The girl’s got a lot on her mind
She’s got big thoughts, big dreams

doo doo doo doooooo she wants to LEAD the glamorous life she don’ need…… training….

lalalala, and so let’s talk about how NOT glamorous my life is this week. What with the sewing and the schlepping and the running around frantically and then my day tomorrow, which will be spent in training. You guys think it’s all free lunches and private concerts? Ha! Hi. I’m Velvet Jones. And I don’ like no trainin’. I once endured 2 hours of training where the trainer dude said “Are you familiar with….?” every 2 minutes as he opened another application. Finally, with all the tact of a bull moose, I said, “YEAH. WE’RE FAMILIAR.”

I don’t envy trainers, especially if I’m in the room. Not like I’m Ms. Whiz-Bang, I’m just very impatient. I want to know what I need to know, and to get all my questions answered, and then I want to get the fuck out of there and back to the 800 things that are accumulating on my desk in my absence. I had to sit in on a “pre-training” session today, to set expectations & get the trainer started. It’s never a good sign for anybody if I start making notes for my amusement later. But if you use the word “bloomin'” repeatedly, as in “You don’t want to have to see every bloomin’ job number”, and then you insist on using “bloomin'” at least another 6 times in the next 10 minutes, well, then, “bloomin'” gets written down in my notebook. Along with this li’l gem of a malaprop:
“Exactly, it’s like kissing two birds with one kiss.”

Eeeeeeeexactly. Tomorrow morning will be the longest morning of my life. I’ll be the one writing softly and carrying a big stick, so I can whack the bushes and find the kissing birds. And choke the life out of them. AND THEN EAT THEM FOR LUNCH.

doo dooo do do do dooo doo doo the girl’s got a lot on her mind…..

The marvelous Kristin, modeling the Dracula Cape for the TV commercial being filmed this morning. I’m rather proud of it, truth be told. Especially because I violated one of my Craft Rules: No Sewing After 9:30 p.m.! And doesn’t she do scary well? I was scared. You’ve been warned. View at your own risk. People with heart conditions should just move on to the next blog.

(don’t worry – I know the pumpkins are upside-down. But the black cats are right-side up! That’s the beauty of crazy plaid prints from the quilting department. Which, credit should go to JWo for finding the fabric – I had given up by that point.)

Because even on the hardest of days, it’s still a better day than the flat-lining quasi-good days at the last place.

Yes, it’s realtime, 12:20 a.m. I just spent the past 3.5 hours sewing a purposefully hideous dracula cape for a television spot that’s being shot Thursday morning. Because I’m a crafty, creative freak & I feel like Mohammed Ali and I am SO MUCH MORE THAN just one thing, including my job title. If it were snowing, I’d run around in it right this minute, barefoot, catching snowflakes on my tongue.

Reality crashes, I should just go to bed. Perhaps a celebratory swig, and a hug from my dog?