I Think About it Every Day

Posting, that is. Well, there's other stuff I think about every day, like how much I love peanut butter M&Ms but I shouldn't eat them because I could stand to lose a few ten twenty-five pounds plus I'm not getting any younger and now that I can not only not fit into my jeans but I'm having those weird hot flashes feelings that women get as they get older I really need to stop eating crap but since I'm too lazy busy to go to the store and get fruit and veggies the M&Ms are really the only food snacks in the house so what's a girl to eat? I think about that, and the fact that Johnny Depp is really cute. But I don't think about Johnny Depp long, because not only am I a few ten twenty-five pounds overweight and he'd never look at me twice, I'm also getting old older and actually I'd prefer the peanut butter M&Ms to attention from Johnny Depp anyway. I'm also married. So is Johnny Depp. Or at least he's in a relationship or something. But hey, that didn't stop Brad and Angelina, did it? BTW, I think it's a hoot that Brad defended Angie after Jen's oh-so-vicious attack (yeah, right) by saying something to the effect that she's such an honorable person. He needs to go buy a dictionary and look up the word "honorable." Anyway, being married and all, the Johnny Depp thing is kind of just a weird twitch I have now and then, and I only bring it up because it makes my husband roll his eyes. Hey, he's the one that thinks Kim Basinger is so hot. I think her eyes are squinty.

So, anyway. Posting. Well, I'm still knitting the dress. Though last night one of my wooden needles came out of its little metal socket thingy. Right in the midst of 2400 stitches of laceweight yarn. The name of the company I bought them from shall remain...um...nameless, but I did call and complain mention it, so they're sending me a new set of tips. That's great and all, but it didn't help me get the million hundred twenty stitches back on the needle that slipped off last night. AND on top of that, TWO of Missy's needles came apart in the past couple of weeks. So this nameless company is having to send three new sets of needle tips to the same home. I would call that an issue. And, yes, I'm happy they're replacing them, and I know that I could have just glued the darn thing back myself, but the problem is that I'm afraid to knit with them now. It's like driving on defective tires. If you have a blow-out and the tire company replaces the tire, fine. But are you going to feel safe driving on that new tire? Are you going to put your dog, your kids, Brad and Angie's kids, and Johnny Depp in that car and drive 65MPH? Well, are ya? Ok, so it's not that dramatic (and more than a little stupid,) but you get the idea. (Sorry. I think I just had one of those flashes things. I apologize.) I tried to explain that to the customer rep yesterday (without the references to tires or Brad and Angie or Johnny Depp, naturally) and asked if I could just exchange the whole set for the set with the metal tips, but she said if I did that I'd have to pay a restocking fee. HUH?? Well, I settled for the replacement tips for the moment, but if another one goes, I want the whole set replaced with the set of metal tips. And there will be no stinkin' "restocking fee." Yeah, you know what company I'm talking about. They're a very nice company, and their service and products are great, but this particular problem is getting very close to becoming a major issue with me.

When the needle broke last night, Missy got out her kit and found another tip so I could keep knitting. I was zipping along nicely when I got the strangest sensation in my hands. I tried to dismiss it and keep knitting, but it kept bugging me. Finally, I dug out the needle sizer and discovered that she had given me a tip a whole size smaller than the one I needed. I knew something wasn't right! And there you have the blessing of knitting something that will eventually be about 35" long and 4800 stitches around--no one will notice if some of the stitches are the wrong size. Just in case, I switched the tips, so the one I'm making the stitches with is the correct size. The size of the non-working tip won't matter. We can always put that part in the back and cover it with satin roses or something anyway.

Speaking of Missy mishaps, I wish I had a video of the cake-frosting incident of yesterday evening. She had spent all afternoon making several different sizes of cakes to give to her fiance and his family, and to practice her cake-baking and cake-decorating skills. I think she had some vague hope that she would be able to do the wedding cake herself and save a few bucks. Well, the lopsided and slightly singed parts of the cakes were trimmed off, so that was okay. The crumb-coating could have been a little better, but that takes practice. The decoration on The Fiance's cake was nicely done, if you like turquoise frosting with hot pink piping and didn't see the side where she dropped the decorating bag on it. And the cake she made for our family to eat was certainly delicious, even if it didn't show quite the care that had been lavished on The Fiance's cake. (At least it was a normal color--pale cream--straight from the can.) But the highlight of it all was when she was slapping on the last of the frosting for The Fiance's parents' cake, and managed to flip the whole thing off the counter and upside-down on the floor. Don't ask me how she did it. I think it was a slightly-too-vigorous swipe across the top with a two-inch thick smear of frosting that sent it flying. I so wish I'd had the video camera. We all performed our respective parts perfectly: The Baker/Decorator/Fiancee was open-mouthed, The Fiance was obviously amused but appropriately tender in his commisseration with the still open-mouthed Baker/Decorator/Fiancee, The Mother (me) was practically peeing in her pants because she was laughing so hard, and The Father (DH, who has waaaaay too strong a streak of analyst in him) was explaining to the still open-mouthed Baker/Decorator/Fiancee exactly why the cake had zoomed off the counter and done a half-gainer in mid-air. The dog was trying to get to the cake on the floor, and the cats wisely turned their backs on the whole mess. I think we'll be checking around for good cake decorators as the day gets closer.

I had to baby-sit Rugrat today, which partly explains the total insanity and inanity of this post. She's good, but she's a two-year-old. You know what that means. A lot of "NO." From both of us. The house is a wreck, the laundry is piling up, we're out of cat food and dangerously low on dog food but I wasn't about to venture out to a store alone with her, and we ate scrambled eggs for dinner that Missy made (with no disaster that I know of. So far.) But I did knit a mitten for Rugrat. I had made a set when she was really little, but they don't have thumbs (since she had no motor skills at the time, what did it matter?) She needs the thumbs now, though, and gets furious with the mitts because she can't do anything when she has them on. Oh my gosh. (headsmack) Why didn't I just put them on her first thing this morning and duct tape them to her wrists??