Archive for Bits
Okay, so I don’t technically have the goods in my hot little hands, but these lovely stitch markers are wending their way through the mail to me as we speak.
They’re specially made for socks and lace (read: teeny needles), and apparently won’t snag on your yarn. Best of all, they can be yours, just for entering my Name that Brew contest. Do I sound desparate yet? At the moment, I’m a little nervous that Heide will win with her suggestion of “Purl Hurl”. So far, only Dave and Heide have made submissions; unless something wondrous happens, the playing field will be small.
Submissions are open until midnight on Sunday, followed by a week of voting.
My car got this way in a 24-hour period. What is covering it?
b) Yellow tempera paint powder
c) Pine pollen
Yes, friends, the answer is c. Welcome to the south. *sniff* *sniff* ACHOO! * This stuff runs like paint when it rains; it’s amazing.
* Yes, I know pine pollen is too big to be causing my reactions. All the stuff that blooms at the same time, however, is another story.
It’s time to share some poetry.
Though this poem is very traditional, it speaks to me as few poems do. So, instead of broadening your horizons with some exciting new bit of poetry you’ve not seen, I invite you to slip through the lines of this classic with me.
The Road Not Taken
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I –
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Lynn has tagged me with the ‘How Weird Are You?’ meme. Thanks, dear, for coaxing me to display my weirdnessess for all to see.
It goes like this… â€œTHE RULES:Each player of this game starts with the â€˜6 weird things about you.â€™ People who get tagged need to write a blog of their own 6 weird things as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose 6 people to be tagged and list their names. Donâ€™t forget to leave a comment that says â€˜you are taggedâ€™ in their comments and tell them to read your blog.â€�
As I have always walked a bit outside of the mainstream, I long ago decided that I’m quirky, not weird. YMMV.
1. I’d rather spend quality time with my computer than watch network TV.
2. Unless what’s on is something Whedonesque.
3. I was quite shy as a child, to the point of physical pain when thrust into social situations like school. I was also surrounded by adults who seemed to think desensitizing me was the answer. Ah, well. At least I know not to do it to my son. Lingering remnants of this: I hate to talk on the phone, unless the person I’m talking to is chatty. I’m perfectly willing to hold up my end of the conversation if the other person will do most of the heavy lifting.
4. Since I was very young, I have a tendency to lose words while I’m talking. Not the same word each time, and in no discernable pattern. I’ll be talking along, and a perfectly normal word (e.g. “road”) will drop from my vocabulary. I can drive on it, point to it, look at it, but cannot find the stinkin’ word for it. I’ve become adept at talking around it.
Me: “We need to cross the horizontal hard surface with cars on it. Hold my hand.”
Child: “You mean the ROAD, Mom?”
Me: “Road! That’s it! Yes, the road. Hold my hand.”
My children are so proud when they fill in for Mommy. What’s doubly frustrating is when they fill in the wrong word and I can’t think of the right word to correct them. Heh.
5. I still want to be an artist when I grow up. Maybe someday I’ll actually take a class.
6. I can’t do anything and listen to complex music at the same time. I forget what I’m doing and sit, mesmerized, instead. Now, your everyday radio sort of music is all right… hum along and knit.
You know, I found it extremely difficult to think of stuff about myself. I kept wanting to tell you about my kids instead. Does that mean I don’t want to share, or that I’m one of those moms? Hrmmmm.
At any rate, now you know. I’m sure I’ll think of something amazing I could have told you instead, you know, right after I hit ‘submit’. I’m not going to tag anyone, just as I don’t send along email jokes. I enjoy reading them, but I don’t want to bother anyone else with them. I’m quirky that way. So, if you’d like to play along, consider yourself tagged and let me know you did. I’d love to hear how quirky you are, too.
OK, as doctoral theses go, this guy has a cool one – he has postulated the way a meme spreads on the ‘net. He wishes all of us to participate by spreading this little nugget around the blogosphere in a way that he can track. I’m not one for pleading or cajoling, but do consider participating. I remember being a grad student, and the more data the better! Besides, he has a sense of humor:
“…a script I’ve written will track this meme (via Technorati) across the internet in 10 minute intervals. It will record the number of links to this post, register their authority and create a database the very size of which will cause my poor processor to fall tumbling, in flames, down a steep cliff. (So be it. We all must makes sacrifices in the name of science.)”
Heh. Go forth and help. His plea and instructions are here.
(For anyone who cares, I found this meme through Mamacate‘s blog.)
A little late to the party, but here’s a fun meme from Bugsy:
Grab the nearest book. Open the book to page 123. Find the fifth sentence. Post the text of the next 3 sentences on your blog along with these instructions.
This is from my closest book:
“The Magna Charta would remain. It would always be there. It would stand through the ages. The people would remember it in times of persecution, and those who came after would turn to the charter saying, “These are our rights by the King’s oath and seal.”
This is what happens when your
seven six year olds are studying the middle ages.
Updated to add: Yes, dear friends, I realize now that my children are six years old, not seven. Let’s chalk it up to
senility the new allergy meds and move on, m’kay?
What would you do with one skein (100 meters, 50 grams) of soft, dark purple cathay? I bought two to make the chemo cap, but just barely made it by with one. Now, I have a single skein of luscious yarn, and NO CLUE what to do with it.
I live in North Carolina, so I really don’t need a winter hat. We didn’t even get an ice storm last year. So… what do you think? What would YOU do?
My dear husband suggested a willie warmer… but if I don’t need a hat, he surely doesn’t need that!
I’m working on a project I can’t share yet, so I’m going to join in Scout’s Wanna Know a Secret Meme instead. The idea is to share a little secret that may make people lose respect for you. Here goes… *deep breath*
Dirtly little secret the first: I’m addicted to Buffy the Vampire Slayer (the TV series.) My hubby and I watched the whole seven seasons as quicky as possible, and then started over at season one. Now that we’re back up to season six (in the space of a few months), we’re slowing down to one a week to make it last. I adore the evolution of the characters, and admire their struggle against evil. I love that good versus evil isn’t painted in black and white. And, as an added bonus, it’s quippy. I loves me a quippy show.
Dirty little secret the second: My children know all the words to the musical episode, because it’s what we play in the car as we’re driving to and from our errands and homeschool activities. No, I do not let them watch the show. Heh.
Dirty little secret the last: When I’m dying for a Buffy fix, I read fanfic. Don’t tell anyone.
Saturday Sky just as soon as I actually go anywhere… you’ve already seen the view from my backyard.