I loved George Carlin when I was a kid. Grew up seeing him on TV; never saw his show in Vegas, which I understand was, ahem, linguistically livelier. He died! How can Al Sleet, the Hippy Dippy Weatherman, be dead? [For those of you to whom I gave birth, the title of the post was also the first line of a love song parody that he wrote.]
I learned a new phrase in a class at work on Tuesday, “Drink the corporate Kool-Aid.” I asked her where she learned it, and I think she said “Bill Reilly”??? One more person I’ve never heard of.
How to tell it’s June, and you’re in Texas.
No, it’s not an obese roach. It’s a June bug. Do you have them where you live? They are everywhere this time of year. This one was in the mail bucket. I don’t know if it died of old age or was flattened by the certified mail.
Speaking of dead bugs, I pushed the button to admit one of my attorneys into our suite without his having to swipe his card key. But he was moving a little more slowly than I thought, and I took my finger off the button, and he smacked into the door. I apologized and added, “Some days you’re the windshield, and some days you’re the bug.” Which is when he asked who had sung that, and I had to sit there and flap my eyebrows at him, because I had no clue. I only knew it as a phrase.
Google to the rescue! Dire Straits recorded it. [Neat little song, and I love Mark Knopfler’s voice, a fact that has been amply documented on this blog.]
I just about went nuts looking for my peanut butter for lunch yesterday. I looked in five different drawers before remembering that I had bought the healthy kind that has to be refrigerated. I’m not sure if that means that I need more vacation, or if the one I took was a little too long.
Had a great conversation with a young mother on the train. She has a toddler and another one under construction. She likes midwives, Terry Pratchett, a lot of the same music that I like, and she does the same thing for another insurance defense law firm that I do for mine. I knitted and talked, knitted and listened, added the new ball of yarn, and it wasn’t until I got to work and put my bag away that I realized that because this is Noro, all full of wooly goodness, I could have spit-spliced it. So that’s what I did on my morning break: frogged back a row and a half to splice the yarn.
It was really fun to pour out the bag of hand-wound balls onto my bed and search until I found the one that began where the first ball ended off. Of course, if I get three-fourths of the way through this project and decide that I want to do something else, I will end up with the world’s largest spit-spliced ball of yarn. I might not be able to roll it through the bedroom door!
Does anybody besides me detect a theme here?
Here we have the three current projects: Juno Regina, the Noro [?]kimono[?], and a stealth project, all on size 4 needles! And look how different the fabric is on each one.
And this, just in case you need a little whimsy today.
- 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!