Torchwood

I am in love with the show, Torchwood and yes I know that makes me a nerd. But I love the whole pansexual vibe and that it is a spinoff from Dr. Who. The kiss I saw today between Jack and Jack was hot. I am thinking I really liked the guy on guy action thing. We need more of that in television and boy would that piss off the religious right. Who knew that Cardiff would be so progressive?

Okay, so it is Sunday night and tomorrow I have to go back to work after four days off. I wish I could call in rich tomorrow and just do what I did all weekend, shop, visit, go to concerts, knit, and partake in libation. Well maybe not quite in that order. Oh well, my ironing will not wait.

Feed your head

Yesterday, was one of the best thanksgiving I have ever had. Everywhere I went I was hail lady well met. I had all the usual thanksgiving fare and then some. I am sure I will have to do some sort of penance for that. I think the winner for best food was Semperfiona's pecan pie. I am a cake girl, not liking the crust on pie, but SF did some special juju to her crust on her pecan pie that made it beyond edible. After my piece of pie I wanted to go back and wolf down the rest of the pie with no regard to anyone else in the room. It took restraint and control to keep my extra large tush planted in my chair. The crust was just so perfect. Crunchy and light with out being too doughy or tough. She said something about vodka in the recipe. To that I say da Semperfiona, da.

Anyway, for those who are stickler's about there Alice. I am aware the dormouse never said feed your head, that would be pure Jefferson Airplane. But I can think that if the dormouse had lived through the 1960s he very well might have said something like that.

So I felted the extremely large bag I have been working on. Actually, what I should say is Tammy felted it for me last night. It is still being blocked at Rivendale. It is actually wider than I wanted it to be after it was felted, but I had suspected this was going to be the case. Anyway, I looks pretty good for my first felted project. We shall see how it turns out once I put the finishing touches on it. Look for photos of the finished product.

Bodily Functions

This is a picture of kool-aid dyed yarn. It is complete irrelevant to my post today, but I think once you read the post you will be glad that I choose a picture of the yarn instead of something more fitting.

Saturday at the Library, someone crapped on the floor of the woman's restroom and then spread it all over with her shoe. Though not in my job description, I felt that it would be best to clean it up so it did not ferment over the weekend and become a bigger problem on Monday morning. I double gloved up and used bleach to wipe up what I could. Gross and disgusting.

Tuesday morning while shelf reading in the corner of the library I found what I thought was a gold foil candy wrapper. I picked it up to discover it was a Magnum condom wrapper with the used condom inside it. I was totally repulsed and spent the next half hour washing my hands with hot water.

I am in fact waiting to see what tomorrow will bring. I am thinking a patron will probably spit on me because the Internet is slow.

On that note have a great Thanksgiving.

Socks!

Okay, first I have to admit that I am one of those people who don't like to think about let alone look at feet. Even pretty and pedicured feet kind of give me the queasies. So the fact that I am prominently displaying my foot in a sock should be a clue that I am damned proud of myself for knitting a sock (notice it has no mate at this point).

After I completed the sock I tromped around my front room in one sock shouting, "SOCK!" as if I were a cavewoman who had just invented fire. Not that I invent knitted socks and that people have been knitting them for millennium. Forget also that the sock is slightly too big and the heel feels a little weird, I novice knitter, made a sock. Yes, I am flush with the victory of it. Granted I have two feet and I have to replicate my efforts for a second sock. Still, I get knitter cred for having knit a sock. Okay so for you non-knitters this seems like a ridiculous post, to them I say, "SOCK!"



On other news I must admit that I have changed my route to work, I no longer drive by Chicken and Waffles. It had become just too tempting. I knew one day I would stop and have to go in and who knows what would happen next. I would become addicted to the place and then I would force all my friends to traipse up to the northside to experience the enigma of Chicken and Waffles. So count your blessings.

I can't explain myself, I'm afraid, Sir, because I'm not myself you see.

Sometimes I wonder about myself, am I myself today or was I more myself yesterday? Or when I say I am not myself today, is it really that I am truly being myself? That is just to existential to contemplate.
So, yesterday when I was either myself or someone else, I meet some old friends for dinner at a north county establishment called Ponticello's. The food and the atmosphere was American/Italian like so many places I am familiar with on the south side of St. Louis. Even the pizza I ordered was what I have called for years, south side Hoosier style, but here I sat as far north from the arch as you can get and still be considered in St. Louis eating the world's flattest pizza. The paradigm of my life is shifting and as a friend suggested I should be looking for a pair of quarters instead.

As I continue to work in north county, so far from my home in south city, I am beginning to learn a new world. My workplace is ten minutes from a Wal-mart. I have never worked this close to a Wal-mart in my life. I don't know if this is necessarily a good thing. I recently discovered a White Castle that I never knew existed. Again not a good thing. The closest yarn shop is not my beloved Knitorious (www.knitorious.com).

For a brief moment I thought, maybe I could move up here and not have so far to commute to work. I mentally spanked myself for that thought. The houses in North County are all post-WWII ranches, with about as much personality as cream cheese. Second floors are an anathemas. I actually feel more like I am in Memphis, Tennessee then St. Louis. Yet all the driver licenses I see to dole out library cards say St. Louis County. Oh well, maybe my idea of St. Louis needed some revisions, my horizons expanded, because I did like Ponticello's and I know I will eat there again. And the company over dinner was wonderful, north county might not be so bad to work in after all.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,

Okay, I am not known for my restraint. At times it is endearing and at others it is well, not so much. Anyway, on Monday I had lunch with my friend, Kim at Christo's on the Northside. Christo's is a local joint serving mostly American Grill with some pasta specials. Kim and I both being plump ladies chose the lasagna. It was a cheesy, saucy mess of a lasagna, perfect for a Monday afternoon, if you could go home afterwards and sleep it off. I was about half way through my lunch when I heard some commotion at the next table. I looked up just in time to see Mayor Francis and his main lackey, Jim.

With the effort of Sampson I held the gooey masticated pasta inside my mouth instead of spewing it all over the Mayor. Which I would have followed with asking if his sister liked my old parking space at city hall. I would have then re-loaded my mouth with pasta to spit on Jim and asked if his slacker son was still using city tax payers money to surf the web. Kim looked edgy so I swallowed HARD and decided I would have spite for dessert instead. The only thing which kept this from being the trifecta of defeat was my former boss, Vain Daly, was obviously not cool enough to be invited to Christo's that day. When will this city get a new mayor?

As to the yarn shop "incident." Yes, Virginia, a yarn shop owner in St. Charles actually called two customers fat. I maybe fat, but she will get no more of my business.

Let's Make Love

In Lets Make Love Marilyn Monroe's character is asked if she is knitting a sweater and she replies something like I don't know the knitting hasn't decided yet what it wants to be. I love the idea that something knitted has to decide what it is going to be. I have a bag I will felt that is doing just that, deciding for itself what it is going to be. Because right now it looks like a skirt for a square dancer. The problem is I decided it needed to be wider than the directions suggested and now I am running out of yarn. Yarn that I can't seem to find anywhere. Today my dear cousin and I drove all over hell's half acre and St. Charles looking for Crystal Palace Iceland Wool Thistle and of course I found bumpcus. I am going to order some online and hope it is right shade. I did get a ton of interesting suggestions on how to solve my problem from various yarn devotees and shop owners, but really I just want the right yarn.

In our quest to find yarn today we went to three yarn shops. We of course had the discussion of the shop in the car as we sped to our next location. One shop was too cramped, another shop was too expensive, and the final shop was hostile to the plump. The owner told my cousin and I we were too fat and needed to lose weight. I don't think I will go there again.

I can't fathom why a person would say that to two customers, gee, that makes me want to come back and buy yarn. Actually, it made me want to go to Krispy Kreme and buy doughnuts then come back to her shop and eat said doughnuts over her $26 silk yarn. But instead I just won't go back at all, even if she is handing out free cascade 22o in green.

Damn!

That is what the fish said when it hit a wall. I just hit that wall. I want to blog about this crazy little restaurant/dive I drive by to and from work. It is named "Chicken and Waffles." I have a picture on my phone about said place to prove I am not smoking crack while I am driving. The image is trapped in my phone. I am too computer illiterate to shake it out. Why? I curse to the gods of IT WHY? One day I will get better at this and then the whole system will change (okay that is the Luddite in me coming out).


Anyway, back to the chicken and waffles. Why? Again that question. Do the waffles come with chicken on them? Do you cover everything with syrup? It is an enigma. A part of me wants to stop sometime and just end the suspense. But Chicken and Waffles is on the worst part of my route to work and the building looks like a derelict building with several of the windows boarded up. If it weren't for the Neon sign that says "OPE..." along with the steady stream of patrons I would think it was a vacant location. I am also afraid I will walk in and be the only white person there and that does give me a moment of pause. My friend Kim, says, "Lets go!" with the enthusiasm of a person who hasn't seen the location.


The crazy thing is I love chicken and I love waffles. I am thinking I just might break down and just end the mystery, but then what would I think about on the way to and from work.