On Antother Note

So, this isn’t strictly making or crafting related, but it did get me thinking. Maybe you saw the Buzzfeed post this week about questions black people have for black people?  If you didn’t, click the link and get ready for ridiculous.

On the one hand, I think black people would just ask each other if we needed to, so thanks, but no thanks, Buzzfeed. I know a lot of black people and I am one, too, so it’s a good bet that any questions I have about us could be answered in a conversation I have with us.

On the other hand, seriously!  Buzzfeed, you all got super happy about covering blacklivesmatter and citing blacktwittwer and forgot who you are, I think. It’s okay. But really, you should probably take that video down right about now.

And in its place, maybe we could ask 27 questions that have to do with being human beings, no matter the construct under which we exist?  Like, I don’t care about the color of your skin, your ethnic origin, religious beliefs, or your cis-ness or transgendered-ness. I just want to know why you keep getting on my nerves.

I’ll get us started, okay?  Here we go:

  1.  Why do you make extended eye contact with me in public places, and then get weird when I smile or say “hi” to you?
  2. Why do some of you hold in your sneezes instead of letting your phlegm flower out? You can do it in your sleeve, and still feel free.
  3. How come you chew with your mouth open?  Put aside the fact that no one wants to see your meal in process, aren’t you worried something will fall out?  You could be missing that one noodle that has all the sauce on it.
  4. How come you talk so much?  Is it insecurity?  If you could answer a question with four words, why use 2800?
  5. Why do you walk so funny?
  6. If you know you can’t hold your liquor, why do you agree to go to so many stag parties and/or hen parties?  The wedding is tomorrow, you idiot!
  7. How come you get a pet with absolutely no understanding that you are responsible for it, and its poop, for at least five years?  It’s a commitment, fools. The ASPCA (and me) can’t stand you.

Okay, so that’s 7. Only 20 more to go. What you got?

 

Wanderlust

I have a bit of it right now.  I think it’s the time of year.  Spring, tulips, peonies, lambies are all welcomed to the world right around April, and it makes me itch for another place to see and be for a while.  This shirt should help.

Screenshot 2016-04-15 10.30.37

Designed to help the traveler communicate with anyone, anywhere (or almost) by pointing to icons on the shirt.  I think it’s one part silly and one part swell!

Ideas

This is on my mind today.  Not on the needles, yet, but soon….

Screenshot 2016-04-13 09.13.10

From the Malabrigo Yarns Blog.  Swoon.

Your Mama

I have a lotta lotta lotta work to do tonight, and still plan to get a ride in (maybe a short one ~3 miles or so). So to get ready to ride and work, wanted to get chores out of the way and just took RJ out again because his new food …. I think the first ingredient is laxatives.

On my way back, saw Maya and Mom coming home. Maya has been a little sass pants to me lately, but she’s a child and I probably encourage it because I don’t quite know how to talk to children and say grown up things to them because I get flustered.

So, this happened in this evening’s apartment theater segment I am calling “Your Mom Don’t Play”:
Me: Hey, neighbors! How are you?
Mom: Hi! Been a long week! We are dragging tonight.
Maya: Jennifer, my name is Maya, not neighbor. You better get it right.
Mom: Estas por la luna? Que te paso? You best stop it, little girl!
Me: … (because I am not about to say anything when Mom is telling Maya how to act right! Especially in Spanish. Nope. #puertoricanmomsgotitonlockdown)
Maya: I apologize, Missus Jennifer. I had a hard day today and I am still angry. (Her exact words.)
Mom: Wait till you get a job and see what a real hard day is. You’re gonna’ act out to the wrong one and be sorry.
Me: Listen to your mom, Maya. She knows what’s up. I was about to fight you on the stairs. (Which I should NOT have said, I know, but it just came out and I was kidding.)
Maya: I’m sorry. I love you. And I love your dog and your car (huh? not sure where that came from) and because you are lonely and I can be your friend. (um ….?)
At which point I turned into a tiny piece of prehistoric dinosaur poop — not even the kind of fossilized poop that makes oil, just old, stinky poop — and hugged that little sass pants because I felt like a pure-D loser that she thought I needed a friend and like a giant meanie to boot … Which I guess is why I agreed to babysit her on Saturday. Guilt, like cocaine, is a powerful drug. I blame the parents!:) #needtoborrowsomelegos #whereismyfilter

Measuring Gauge over Lace — Tin Can Knits

Earlier this year we brought you a new lace design – the Bounce Blanket. We included instructions on how to work a swatch and determine your gauge over lace in the pattern, but we thought we might elaborate on measuring gauge over lace here! how to swatch and measure gauge over a lace pattern Work […]

via Measuring Gauge over Lace — Tin Can Knits

Tomorrow

It’s Not Monday, which is small comfort on this day, I expect. In keeping with the weekly holiday tradition, my share today is still an uplifting one, though there are neither puppies, nor quokkas, nor toddlers falling down. (Those kids get me every time). It’s this one from one of the all time greats, Fred Rogers. Hope abides. And helpers come in all shapes and sizes and genders and belief systems and colors and strengths and gifts and abilities. You gotta look, though. You might just be one.

Weekend Inspiration

Yes, there’s the Gruffalo, yes, there’s that giant bunny, and yes, there’s that OTHER Pickles sweater I’m still working on.  And yet …

leopardjakke_strikkeoppskrift_staaendeFrom Pickles.  Again!  It’s like they’re haunting me.  And I don’t even like set-in sleeves. At all.  Still, can’t get this one out of my head.  Check out the pattern page here.  Happy Weekending!

Was I dreaming?

So, I was in a meeting this afternoon, where a grown man scolded me like a child, “Stop talking.”  And, this wasn’t side talking, this was me trying to explain my opinion after 3 days of him cutting me off mid-sentence.  I wasn’t sure I’d heard him correctly, but thank heavens the rest of my colleagues were there to witness.  I never.  Looking back, it was quite funny.  And yet … #revenge!

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