So I was searching Blingo (!) for “knitted panties pattern” because I’m feeling a need to be knitting some knickers and, well, that’s what I do.
Check out what I found: Knitting Erotica.
“So what?” you may say, “We get it, already, Mad. Knitting is sexy. Fine.”
You have to click on the link and scroll down, because at the bottom of the page is a photo of me modeling the panties I knit (and actually wear. . . oh, so cozy in the winter!).
This marks the first time I’ve accidentally stumbled upon myself whilst riding a big, hard search engine. Nice that I’m in a suggestive pose.
So, I think I really need to make plans to go to Chi-Town.
Several reasons, two of which are this person and this person.
Seriously, with copy like this, I’m inclined to stalk the hell out of Mimi just so I can give her daughter the skull and crossbones mini purse I knitted. Then we can do tequila shots:
On the other hand, a woman with true class (in the etiquette-book, not socioeconomic, sense of the word) would probably not have taught her flu-stricken daughter to lick her wrist and then throw back the little cup of cough medicine like a tequila shot. Four-year-old Nora’s dose is now too big for the baby syringe, and during this last illness I got tired of her taking eensy sip after eensy sip while complaining about the taste. So I demonstrated the proper technique with salt and my own wrist and a shot glass of water, and told her that “this is how people quickly drink something that tastes bad.” (But tequila tastes GOOD! protested my brain. Be quiet brain, we’re trying to parent over here.) Nora is a sucker for procedures and processes, so she learned the routine and now knocks ’em back like a big girl. We skip the lime, that’s just empty vitamins.
Mimi Smartypants would think that last comment I made on the previous post was damn funny.
And Amy, well, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to go to her place, eat breakfast, drink tea and color each other’s hair. Also, she could teach me the art of lipstick application, which, despite a stint at the drugstore cosmetic counter in high school, I’ve never seemed to master. Staying power, that’s what I’m talking about.
It’s pretty, right?
It’s a goddamn hypberbolic plane, crocheted by a mathematician.
I know! I got all quivery.
Well, not exactly. I’m sick. So Feh.
My kids are overnight at my brother’s place, I’m under the duvet all cozy and looking tres francais in my Clapotis scarf, finished several weeks ago and now serving as my neckwarmer in all manner of situations.
I’ve been productive today, despite the nagging cough and accompanying phlegm (I just like writing that–phlegm). Good things are happening to me.
I’m totally scattered this week. Trying to get lots of work so my trip to NYC is as carefree as possible, trying to finish three knitting projects so I can start another yummy bag, looking online for the gorgeous yarn which will make said yummy bag, all while feebly attempting to catch up on blogging and writing for cash.
Uh huh. You’d think I’d just chain myself to the computer and write the damn stories. I want too much. And I think, “Just 10 more minutes of knitting and I can finish this section!” “I can pick up gifts for New Yorkers tomorrow.” “It’s really okay that my bed is covered with balls of yarn and stitch holders and knitting instructions because it is Fall and I am the organizer of the moms knitting group.”
We met today for the first time, me and another mother, at her house. It was built in 1845. It was incredibly messy. For some reason, I love seeing how messy other peoples’ homes are. I envy them the ability to not obsess about it. I always feel like my house is unbearably messy. It totally isn’t.
I think it’ll be fun next week, when we have a couple other moms (previous commitments today) join us. Then maybe I won’t end up talking so much about myself. I’ve determined to not reveal much personally at these things. Especially since I’m secretly dating Bendy Daddy, who is known to them all.
Of course, next week will be the day before I leave for NYC. Try keeping that kind of excitement under wraps. Maybe by then I’ll be closer to wrapping up Clapotis. Focus!