I don't give a damn for a man that can only spell a word one way. --Mark Twain
And so I offer up to you my favorite Slovenian English spelling mistake:
Costumer for customer.
Picture a corporate suit in a clown suit. That's my mental image.
Although if the customer were truly a costumer, I rather picture a garrulous Mickey Rooney or perhaps the late Burgess Meredith in a movie about a psychotic Hallowe'en shopowner.
I'm feeling quite the saint for having chopped apart a 29-page technical overview today down to 21 pages. Just call me The Hatchet. Because I hate extraneous BS.
OK, We Thought You Were Busy
Well, I am. But never too busy when the writing bug bites. And while the computer is still up and running, I'm gonna sit at it amid the boxes.
But the new place is bigger, better and I'll be ensconced by this weekend, I hope. You know how it goes. The movers show up, take the furniture, and after everything is out of the house, you find all the crap under furniture that you mistakenly thought didn't exist because you're such a fine housekeeper.
Sure. And then there are the 3,000 cat toys.
Black Bunny Rides Again
You know I don't do knitalongs or KALs, as they are called. However, I am making an exception for Carol, partly because I love her dyeing and partly because I'm in a vulnerable mood right now.
The Black Bunny Hop. Here's the button. I'll put it in my sidebar if I have the time and the inclination.
I may start a knitalong myself. The Buttkiss Brothers' Bib-along.
Go ahead, steal the button. I'm warning ya, I'm in one of those moods. You might just see the blog in a week or two.
Knit for Jesus...or the Virgin Mary. Or maybe Sataaaaan
Now, I find this totally offensive. Someone has started a Catholic Knitters group on Yahoogroups. Why?
If that's the case, I'm starting the ChurchLady Lutheran Knitters group and we don't want no stinkin' Catholics in it. Why do you think Martin Luther nailed the 95 theses to the church door? Because he loved to write?
When will this religion insanity stop? Now knitting is sectarian? If I want to join the Catholic knitters, do I have to do the Stations of the Cross while I cast on? We Lutherans don't do much that's cool like that, actually. I could make the Sign of the Cross with my needles, I suppose.
This what happens when you catch up with KnitList digests after deleting them for weeks. I suppose at least it's something interesting to read about.
Widder She Wander
On a kind of a serious note, and without mentioning names, I've heard from a number of women who read this blog and have recently lost their husbands.
You know me, I always write 'em back. Because I guess I'm a stellar example of a widder woman who made her way, albeit with zigs and zags.
I have a feeling that there are a few widows out there. It's a sisterhood to which you don't want to belong. But when you do, the more experienced among us do want to help the newbies. Because it's something that no one's prepared for.
I was reflecting upon this state of being on the way home tonight. The train kinda lulls you into a meditative stupor and although I knit, I still ponder.
And it occurred to me this one thing: Very few of my husband's friends, people whom we had known for many years, bothered to contact me after his memorial service. I had to turn around, change my entire life, and the people I thought I knew so well weren't there. This, unfortunately, includes my husband's brother, who I have seen about three times since Jimmy died, which is almost five years ago. And one of Jimmy's closest friends, who I have seen about the same amount. And I made the overture, not them. Sad.
Bob and Jean, long-time friends of ours, are the only ones who are still there. I still see them twice a year and they always tender invites to their Christmas and Memorial Day parties. In fact, Bob reads the blog every so often. But the rest? Gone.
So when women write me and ask me for advice, the first thing I tell them is, when the fog lifts, stand on your own two feet and make new friends. Because you'll certainly find out very quickly on whom you can count and who takes a powder.
I'm happy in my new life. I've made a ton of new friends and I'm content. But I've also grown a lot more cynical about those people that I thought I knew so well. So if you know someone who's lost a spouse, don't desert them after the last handful of dirt gets tossed. It's a long, hard road to recovery and just a phone call can make a world of difference.