yarn:Katia's heathered grey mohair
buttons: vintage mother-of-pearl
pattern: Girly-girl Capelet from Hip to Crochet
I finished this poncho just after arriving back in America–I started it in Mom's livingroom in France, had to rip it out and start over because of a mistake (!), completed the middle (boring) portion on the plane and in airports in New York City and Atlanta, added a few stitches in Grandma Eileen's livingroom in Nebraska and then finished the edging here in my then-empty livingroom in Portland.
All to find that the trendy poncho look was NOT created with chesty gals in mind!! Circus tent anyone?
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all the American euphamisms I can come up with for a certain part of the female anatomy:
Rack
Melons
Hooters
Set or Pair
Hoo-ha's
Peaches
Knockers
Cha-cha's
Tits (though I prefer the more informal "Titties")
Am I forgetting any? -
It's not Easter without Peeps! Or homemade matching dresses, white knee highs and little boy bowties.
I suspect that first picture isn't actually Easter–it's far too green–note the interior shots of the other two, and the just barely visible snowy scene out the window. Peg, Tom–do you remember? And Tom–in that last shot, how did you get such a raw deal with that teeny weeny basket??
Of course, now, my holiday treat comes in a bottle, not a basket. I wonder which color Peeps go best with red wine? Blue? Yellow? Pink? -
It's alot easier than you'd think to emigrate to Canada.
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"Grandpa Mikkelsen" and "Noodle"
Dad just returned from a quick visit (four days! no jetlag recovery time!) to London to see Peg and Ryan and of course, the person of the hour–Stella. I can't get over how much little Stella looks like my sister (it's in the eyes) and how very much Dad looks like his dad, my Grandpa Bunny. -
The Custard heard a little story on NPR today about Superfast Pizza, a delivery company that bakes the pizza in the truck on the way to your house. It's in Fond du Lac.
But is order-in better than a good ol' sit down at Schreiner's? -
Miss Ruby and her playdate, Monsieur Oscar
I love you RoobieDoobie, but there is dog hair IN the keyboard of my brand new lovely computer. DOG HAIR. In the keyboard.
I can deal with it on the bathroom floor (on every floor truthfully), on the sofa, woven into the handtowels, floating in bunches under the chair legs, lingering on the curtain edges (by the way, why exactly do you sit under the window with the curtain wrapped around your head?), on the bed, and on every piece of clothing I own, but… the computer keyboard?? The brand new shiny computer?!?! What gives little dog?
What exactly is it that you do when I'm away? -
Browsing a copy of "1001 Places to See Before You Die" while waiting at the checkout counter; it fell open to "Savannah's Historic District".
Hm. Message in a point-of-purchase display? -
Male customer, to me, as I reach up and slide the rug racks back for his viewing convenience:
"Nice rack!"
I'm forgiving him only because he had his two kids with him and was mortified at the slip–he honestly meant the rug rack. -
Just when I think I can't take it anymore, American life throws another one at me: strawberries.* A simple fruit treat, right? Wrong. Now they are "GIANT" strawberries. Even the ones not labeled "GIANT" are monstrously-proportioned specimens.
That I can't fit in my mouth. And trust me, I can fit alot of things in my mouth (sorry Grandma). Am I the only one who enjoys popping in a berry and enjoying it in one bite (maybe two)? We're talking four, five bites a piece here people. They're not strawberries, they are miniature melons from the planet Giganto.
I dreamt of a book I wish I could write last night:
'BIG AMERICAN LIFE'
Why we believe bigger is better, and why we might be wrong.
And don't even get me started on cell phones—and I do get that, contrary to everything else in our expansive land, they are actually getting smaller and smaller, to the point of being ridiculous lozenges. Lozenges that rule people's lives. When was the last time you let a shrill, screeching, interrupting annoyance rule your every waking minute? Isn't that why we leave our mothers?
*I know this will all wear off in time, but I hope that a few things stay with me—the calm I feel when I realize that I don't have to answer a ringing phone. The desire for little more than I need. The pleasure of a regular, sit down evening meal, even with just myself. The health of walking, rather than driving, to the corner store. I'm writing these things down, so when I get lazy and re-accustomed to this fastness and hugeness, y'all can find this page and remind me.
