Tuesday, April 24, 2007

Best Quote I Heard All Day
It takes a long time to grow young.--Pablo Picasso

So, another year will bite the dust tomorrow. Numero 57. Yikes!

The older I get, the more ambivalent I become about my birthday. On the one hand, I'd like to celebrate the fact that I'm alive for yet another spring. Watching the mallard float on the pool upon the pool the other day made me laugh. Dopey duck. He kept diving and finding nothing.

On the other hand, I hate looking down the barrel of the gun that is 60. Sheesh. Whyfore how come I don't feel any older than, um, 35?

Yeah, numbers are numbers. I'm still the wild child I ever was. That hasn't changed much.

Any birthday dinner invitations will be gleefully accepted. Heh.

Spring on the Delaware with the Wolvies
Well, Joe and Carol beat me to it but I'll throw up some pictures, with blessedly none of me. It was a perfect spring day down in Stockton, NJ and we had a lovely brunch. I hadn't seen Kathy since Rhinebeck, so that made it all the betterer. The Punk Princess deigned to come along, knowing full well that Carol would make her pay if she didn't show.

I just can't help myself. Too kewl.

A good picture of Kathy and a rather goofy one of Carol. What does Joe have in his hand?

Live fast, die fun. Certainly my motto, too.

Why I love spring in New Jersey

They Say It's Your Birthday--It's My Birthday Too, Yeah

My sibs and I sing that to each other on our respective birthdays. Karen was born a week before me, albeit 12 years later, and brother Rich exactly 7 weeks before, 4 years later.

Carol gave me the most wonderful birthday present. Look at this--alpaca top, dyed by herself, the Mistress of All Messy Dyepots.

And you know that as soon as I got home, I hit the Matchless with a vengeance. (Well, after oiling it, fucking around with a new drive band, and fiddling with the tension.)
This begs to be laceweight. It cannot be anything else but a lace shawl. So for the hell of it, I separated the two plys of some leftover Jaggerspun (formerly used for the Melanie shawl) and compared my single. I've made some observations about spinning laceweight that I'll write about in my next entry.

Topeka! (Shut the fuck up, I'll make my puns and be damned.)

My pictures do not do this alpaca top justice. It is a magnificent sunset of pinks, reds, and a dab of purple, orgasmic to spin. The shading is unbelievable. If you don't buy from Black Bunny Fibers, then you've lost out on an experience worth having time and time again.

Open Mike Tuesday
OK, gang, we're back to this. And I promised a topic that's more positive, so here it is, courtesy of Carol, if I recall correctly:

Who's the best new knitting designer
(say within the past two years)?

I know who my choice would be, but I'll leave for you to clutter the comments.

You know it's time to go to bed when Letterman has Sanjaya doing the Top Ten. Sleep is much rarer and handier than a 17-year-old talentless wonder enjoying the last of his 15 minutes.

Please, God, let him drift back into obscurity. For music's sake.

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