In between short bursts of productivity as I sit and drink tea and work on my research paper about the history of knitting in early modern Europe, I rest my hands from the keyboard and pick up my knitting while I pop over and check my favorite knitting blogs.

Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached Terror Level Full Blown Obsession.

I have this policy about people's dreams. I don't really care to hear about it, and if you are going to tell me, it had better be fucking awesome, otherwise I will cut you ( Read more... )

I'm in the middle of writing a thank you note for my aunt and uncle....and I start to wonder if I should wait to mail it until they're back from their research trip (coral reef fish) to Indonesia ( Read more... )

Mike is in a band now, of sorts. He insists that they are called the Firebreathing Hellskulls From Hell. I will persist in calling them The Collective Nouns until something pithier presents itself. We are discussing the (maybe someday) when they start to compose their own music, rather than covers. Mostly, I think he's in it for the practice ( Read more... )

One of the most flattering things I can remember ever being said to me, I cannot place the context now. The man who said it ended up being a real jerk, although, in his defense, I was probably a pretty lousy lay at that time. But I just remember a conversation we had at one point, where he admitted that bits of my speech patterns were beginning ( Read more... )

I'm having sort of a crisis of personality.

Erm. So. I have this difference of opinion with myself. On the one hand, I really like the idea of myself as this brash, confident take-me-as-I-am woman. But the thing is, in practice, it doesn't come off nearly as well as I'd like. For one thing: the principle recipients of this are the ones ( Read more... )

Most mornings when I wake up, I immediately have the unstoppable urge to share my dreams with Mike, which I realize must be very tedious for him. Apparently, he doesn't dream, or if he does, does not remember them upon waking, which I think must be very sad. Just recently, he has started making shit up in response to my noodly-brained meanderings ( Read more... )

A sexy concept ( Read more... )

I was thinking today about children's poetry. How The Jabberwocky is perhaps one of the most delicious assembly of sounds in the English language. Whether the joy of Where the Wild Things Are comes from the words or the illustrations or both, whether you would love it as much if you couldn't see the Minotaur with hairy feet or the Cockatrice. ( Read more... )

but it makes sense. And is good advice. Anya's first rule of dating, as written in nwhepcat's The Bright Blessed Day, the Dark Sacred Night :

Never date a man with a "the" anywhere in his name.

Seriously. That's some good advice. Take that one to heart.