I found this on Fleegle’s blog the other day. Read it first, or the next paragraph will make no sense.
When LittleBit and I were at her gastroenterologist’s a few weeks ago, there was a poster on a different topic, one that I suspect is handy when discussing “output” with very young patients. I think there were seven artistic representations of “output”: everything from “I’m never eating cheese again” to “If you think I’m taking more than three steps away from the bathroom, you’re crazy.” Now, I have thought about a lot of things during the course of my life, but up to that moment it had never entered my head that there might be occasions when a visual representation of an extremely necessary bodily function would be something other than sophomoric humor.
Apparently I was wrong.
Moving on to a more genteel subject, I was asked to come up with “foofy” invitations for a breakfast we served to the attorneys and office manager for Boss’s Day. [Me, I thought every day was Boss’s Day.] This is what I came up with:
Whereas, the parties of the first part [hereinafter referred to as “you” and “your”] having demonstrated superior bossing qualities to the parties of the second part [hereinafter referred to as “we”, “us”, and “our”]; and
Inasmuch as the 16th of October has been proclaimed Boss’s Day;
Wherefore, “you” are invited to a breakfast in “your” honor, created and served by “us”.
Said breakfast to be served in the Large Conference Room at approximately 8:30am, “our” waffle-makers permitting, because
“We” appreciate “you”.
I squished it down to print on a 3.5” column of paper, to be attached to 4” x 6” pieces of cardstock. Witness:
The managing attorney loved it! The staple was an afterthought, because my gluestick was only intermittently effective.
I mentioned recently that I solved the mystery of where those @#$% moths were coming from. And gained a whole new appreciation for the phrase “taken to the cleaners”. Well now I know what they were up to. Do you see the huge yarnover in Swallowtail? Discovered only as I was pinning her out yesterday morning.
Speaking of @#$%, there's a new biography of J. Golden Kimball out. I had probably better buy it and read it homeopathically.
So, what to do about Swallowtail? I am going to frog her and make a pair of mitts, as she blocked out a little smaller than I would have liked. Of course, I didn’t want to pull too hard and make the hole any bigger. She's beautiful, and I’ll knit her again, from a different yarn, preferably one that's silky-smooth to humans but has sharp little moth-sized teeth to teach those winged fiends some manners.
Which brings up another question: if in the Millenium the lion will lie down with the lamb, and not for greater ease in digesting him, and the carnivores will eat straw like the ox, what are moths going to eat? Carnivores?
If moths are still in business under the new, improved scheme of things, maybe I had better just grab my handbasket and head in the other direction.
Assuming that the @#$% moths haven’t eaten it.
- Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!