Newest

Older

Profile

Notes

Dazzle Me

Contact

Buddies

Favorite Sites

Ad Report Card
Ah Yes, Medical School
Cute Overload
Crime Library
Crime Rant
DanjerusKurves
Diaryland
Dipsy Doodle
DJRainDog
Doghigh
Dooce
Doodle Zenovka
Dream Moods
Finslippy
Four Four
Fumbling With Needles
Going Loopy
Indexed
Knitting Spaz
James Lileks
Post Secret
Sarkasmo
Second Life
Southern Gal Knits
Suburban Bliss
Terra-Cottage
The Exceller Fund
Things My Boyfriend Says
TMZ
We Three Bitches
Wendy Knits
Yeahimadork

2007-03-07 - 8:25 p.m.

Devil Baby Mode

I went out shopping with mom AGAIN yesterday. I didn't buy too much, but what I did purchase was 'SPENSIVE(ish).

First we hopped over to Best Buy, where I snagged copies of "Borat" and "The Departed." I picked up a copy of "High Tension" for mom (under $10) because she loves horror movies like I do. Although, I tend to love blood-n-guts more. The redder, the better.

She's already getting fussy about collecting too many DVDs ("I have enough now...I don't need to keep buying more!") That's when I jump in to make a purchase. I just want her to have a decent size collection, ya know? Anyhoo, on a whim, I threw a boxed set of "The Omen" movies in the cart (all 4 in the series, plus a special features disc, and a remake of the original from 2006, I believe). Mom had start browsing the horror movies herself and decided to buy the original "Don't Answer the Phone" ($7.99) and "Rosemary's Baby" ($6.99). I jumped up and clapped. YAY!

We were most decidely in DEVIL BABY MODE.

Then we each selected a CD. She bought The Monkees greatest hits (she loves "Daydream Believer," in particular, as does my dad) and I found a copy of Jerry Lee Lewis' original hits. Whoo-hoo, we're ready to party now!

We listened to "Crazy Arms," "Whole Lotta Shakin' Going On," and "Great Balls of Fire" several times loudly while nibbing on a late lunch in the parking lot of Taco Cabana. We had the windows rolled down, and it was a breezy 75 degrees out. Very nice.

We made a quick jaunt to Michael's where I exchanged a cracked frame, and mom picked up a few knitting doo-dads, plus a few goodies for me (a battery-operated sweater defuzzer, and a mini sewing pouch) since I sprung for lunch. And because I begged her.

Then it was off to Hobby Lobby (Hob Lob) to get a few more skeins of yarn in the same dye lot from mom's first scarf, which she's giving to me (it's SO pretty!). She needed a bit more to finish the fringe. I peeped around at their neato furniture stock (all on sale for 30% off), trying to locate a suitable night table or something else that struck my fancy. Whatever I chose, I knew it had to be sturdy, but still light enough for me to carry up my staircase when I returned home.

I wound up finding a very cute off-white "cottage"-ish nightstand, with 2 deep drawers. It was solid, well-made, but still liftable. I pulled it off the shelf to double-check. I also found a small dark wooden bookcase with three shelves (open back, and scrolled cut-outs on the sides) complete with two shallow drawers at the bottom decorated with raised faint-gold flourishes. The elaboration almost bordered on cheesy, but since it's very subtly colored, the effect comes off as "oohh...neato." I hope.

Both items were normally $129 and with the discount, I got them each for under $90! Which of course added up to nearly $200 with tax, but SHIT! Two decent pieces of furniture that I didn't buy at Target and don't have to assemble at home for a change! I really didn't "need" the small bookcase, since I don't have a lot of room for anything else in my place, but it was so divine (reminds of something from a monastery), I couldn't resist. Another thing to put more things on! And drawers. Holy crap. I can put stuff in them!

Like my Satanic bible and voodoo dolls.

Once we hauled everything home (mom is still worried I won't be able to jam everything in my car when I leave. "Remember, you have to take your dogs back with you!"), I really started to fall in love with the nightstand even more. It's so goddamned CUTE. We placed the lamp I'd gotten the other day on it...OH MY LORD. Perfect!

The dark wooden bookcase looks almost eerily evil next to it. (Cue Omen music)

But they'll be in two separate rooms with two different color schemes, so I'll have my yin/yang Feng Shui shit all nice and balanced.

Now that I think of it, I don't really have color schemes. Mish-mosh. Light in bedroom, dark in living room. Dirty in kitchen.

Anyhoo, once we got back and I marveled at my furniture for a spell ("Mom, the drawers in this nightstand are perfect for porn movies, condoms and sex toys!"), we popped on the first of Omen movie, even though we've both seen it a million times. We were going to have an Omen fest! (Dom-eeee-noooose! Oooo-Ooo-Ooo!)

But we weren't paying attention much since we were fussing with our knitting. I helped mom start the fringe on her (now my) scarf with a crochet hook, back from my days as a latch-hook master in elementary school and junior high. First project: 12x12-ish square with a bubble gum machine. Second and third projects: Panda bear and tiger face (that mom made into pillows for me). Fourth project: Frog pillow (pre-stuffed, which was awesome). Fifth project: Medium rug-sized single dark red/maroon rose that I gave to my grandma. She put it on the side of her bed. Sixth project (in college, on a whim): Giant rug with cats that I never finished.

Mom completed the fringe when she woke up in the middle of the night, and had already started on her second scarf, with larger ribbing, by the time I woke up. I only knitted a bit yesterday, but made up for it today. I'm somewhere past 32" in length now! There have been a few mishaps (dropped stitches) here and there, but mom was able to get me back on track. At one point, it nearly start to unravel when I finally clued in that something was wrong, and we both automatically freaked out. That's why I check my work on each row now, because picking up a dropped stitch four or more rows down is a tricky, tricky bitch.

She actually dropped a shitload of stitches a few nights back and almost unwound the whole damn thing (20" or so!) in frustration, but I convinced her not to. NO WAY. "Mom, if you can't fix it, finish it off the way it is...then start a new one, but do NOT ditch this effort!"

She managed to fix it (of course, she was irked by the error that anyone else would barely notice) and she's damn happy she listened to me. :)

Here's another tip: DO NOT KNIT when you are tired or impatient. Or distracted by your surroundings. Music is good. TV not so good. Light chit chat with a knitting companion is fine, but avoid emotional or confusing topics ("I'm worried about your dad"; "When we put the laundry in the dryer, let's pop in that new Exceller Fund sweatshirt so the steam can get out the wrinkles, and then you can feed the cats in the laundry room...don't forget to grab a new spoon and take that shirt upstairs I washed before...and get us a few sodas from the fridge in the garage too." -- Me: "Huh? Did you say something?") and do NOT bring up your dream about being "Brad Pitt's 'girl' and living together and...oh, something happened....." and then getting glassy-eyed/flushed when remembering WHAT IT WAS (Oh the lord hath spoken!) and that IT'S NOT SOMETHING TO DISCUSS WITH YOUR MOTHER OVER COFFEE/EVER. Especially in the middle of a purl row. Say "Oops, I thought I dropped a stitch" and MOVE ON.

(P.S. That thing: Brad's quick, but GOOOOOD. We had a fight and we were making up. MEOW! He's pretty moody too, as I recall. Made me want to paw at him more. Especially when he was having a smoke on the porch, brooding, brooding, brooding. "Honey? You ok? I'm sorry..." His work shirt was untucked and opened around the collar. He walked towards me, tossed out his cig over the railing with no regard that it was still smoldering, grabbed my hand, twirled me around, pinned me against the porch wall and said "Com'ere.")

Mmmmm-hmmm. I KNOW.

Anyhoo, not fitting knitting conversation. Especially with your momma. Stick to "Yeah, I'll grab yesterday's mail in a bit," and "No, I'm not in the mood for banana bread right now, thanks."

Tonight, before we got too weary, we sat out on the back patio, IN THE ROCKING CHAIRS, all Waltons like, and knitted for about 30 minutes before the sun went down. I was in heaven. The birds were twittering away, the weather was perfect and I had finally found a comfy chair I could relax in. Mom found the rocking chair awkward and couldn't find a good position. "Now you know how I feel sitting in that chair at the kitchen table!" I shot back. *smirk*

But I have found that sitting up in bed with my back propped with pillows is nice as well. And I know my big easy chair in my apartment will be perfect for my new hobby.

I'm half afraid I've already gone overboard with this and won't ever pick it up again once I get back to Lexington. I tend to do that with new interests. Once I leave, mom will get back into her counted cross-stitch projects (she has done the most BEAUTIFUL stuff, I swear), but she's already saying she's gonna stay on me about keeping up with my knitting.

And even if I only knit and purl a few rows a day, or a couple times a week, for the rest of my life, I'll never forget. I am dying to retain this new knowledge. I'm still blown away I stuck with it this long.

And to my best buddy Janet who says she can't recall any of it, after mastering it so well in the past: Do not fear. Halo is here. A quick slipknot, casting on, and a couple rows, it'll snap back like a bad ex-boyfriend. But in a much more pleasant way.

And if my other readers want to learn, let me know! You menfolk? Grab a couple of pencils and some twine or kite string! Think of it as nautical knot education. For that yacht you're going to retire on. Yes, yes, you can envision me in a skimpy first mate's uniform if it helps you get into the groove. Lots of boobage, yes yes. I'll do anything for the Captain. *doe eyes in wonderment of your manly abilities*

But don't get too distracted. Tie that slipknot, cast on, and THEN I'll give you something to be distracted about.

AHEM.

Where was I? *Fanning myself...off*

When our child is born, Smed (Liz needn't know!) I'm going to sit right down and knit a black and red checked baby jumper..with 666 on the back. Oh, fine! I'll add an AC/DC logo to encompass your, er, lyrical abilities in the bedroom. Liz doesn't need to know about that either, because I'm the only one who can fully bring that out in you. You sweet devil! (Shhhhh...It's our secret!) To balance out your goodness, I'll also knit a Disco ABBA baby shirt (for me) for church.. And something with Dobermans and, whatever...daisies or shit on it for our spawn. Just when you thought dealing with your heavenly brood was bad...in comes the Anti-Christ to fuck it all up.

(HI LIZ! HAPPY BIRTHDAY! BRING IT ON, WOMAN!)

How Tolkien bypassed writing the historic struggle for Smed and his kind, I have no idea. Smed is real. And Dave. And Dangerspouse. And my dear DJ (even though he's off limits to us women, don't you want to paw his sweaty leather off anyway?)

What would I do without my BOYS?

And you gals (Satan gives you the big thumbs up), fucking ROCK.

By the way, Mom thinks it's "crude" that I cuss. And I have limited my cussing in her presence, and in my latest entries. She has a point, but good golly shooooot bejeepers. Fuck that. I wanna crack my neck to each side, spread my fingers (wings) out and be Halo again.

Fine. I knit now and cuss less (for awhile). But, I tell ya, I'm having so much fun hanging out with mom. She's my bud. I've already determined I'll probably stay ONE MORE WEEK here. Plants are dead, bills are being paid. And we still have a million things to do.

Between knitting for hours today, mom said she felt bad she wasn't "doing anything really productive." I jumped up an hour later and said "Fine, wanna help wash my car?" (on our list of things to do). We filled a bucket with Dawn and hot water, I grabbed dad's mesh car sponges and a couple towels from the garage, she found the spray nozzle for the hose while I located the portable CD player. I changed into a pair of shorts, took off my shoes, popped in Jerry Lee Lewis in the player on the front porch, next to our sodas, and we went to town on my car with the the music blasting in the middle of the afternoon.

Does it get more Americana that that, I ask you?

I haven't washed my car like that in years. Literally. 3 years or more. I thought we got most of the grunge on the sponges, but the drying towels revealed a whole new level of grime. At least we got a few layers off. Mom is eager to attack my interior with a dust cloth. Tomorrow perhaps. Or the next day.

We're going to wash her bright yellow VW bug too. Tomorrow, or the next day.

I still need to call the Mazda dealership about the faulty A/C "all fixed" bullshit...we haven't yet watched my Netflix "Eight Below" (I've seen it, she hasn't), and all these other things.

Here's what's on the dry erase board as of now, which doesn't even mention the day-to-day stuff:

(My) cell phone -- add mins
Dealership -- call about A/C
(My) bills -- pay insurance
Cigs/gas
The Queen -- matinee?
Ck bank balance
Clean inside car
Buddy -- eye infection? (his eyes are red today with weepy teardrop shit)
Linens N Things -- Dyson?
Daylight Savings Time -- next weekend
Sam Houston Race Park (?)
Car inspection (mom)

Then there's a big list of groceries for Wal-Mart on a magnetic pad next to the dry erase board.

I still need to upload photos from my camera, mail a birthday card to my nephew, finish my scarf, clean off and take all the newly discovered Fisher-Price toys to the attic, find a cheap copy of "Return to Castle Wolfenstein" because it's killing me not to kill Nazis and jeepers! I want to see mom kill a few, sort out my suitcases, help mom put photos in her albums, watch her Josh Groban "making of" DVD, clean out my purse, call my cousin while I'm here, show mom some more websites and convince her to get a computer at least for email and photos, and have another great dream about Brad Pitt. Angelina is adopting a new baby under her own name only this time --- do I smell a rift? Brad needs me. And I have a porch to show him.

AHEM.