Fluid Pudding

My Leftovers Cowl is coming along nicely and I’m using jewels AND pastels because that’s what was intended. (I could tell you a long story about emotions and math, but you don’t have time for my nonsense.)

I’m still working through my sense and sensibility regarding the election. (Sometimes I just need to sit in my room and think and be wretched.) I’ve seen quite a few people who are grieving and I’ve seen even more people who are laughing at the grief. Dehumanization abounds and there is so much ugliness.

I think that’s why I knit. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

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Do you remember when Tempe, my mom, and I went to Chicago and I fell in love with this cowl?

This evening I received a package from Sun Valley Fibers and it held the following two beautiful (Holy smokes, so beautiful. And so soft.) sets of yarn to make the cowl.

My question for you: Which set should I use for the cowl that will be cast on tomorrow as I watch election coverage? Lights? Darks?

Please vote. For president (if you’re able) and for my yarn (if you’re willing). God bless you, and God bless the United States of America (and Sun Valley Fibers).

Create your own user feedback survey

If you’re curious, results can be viewed here. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

It is finished.
We’re good.

The following words appear in the pattern description:
“This shawl is a quiet reminder that hate doesn’t have to win, and that tolerance is grace. When you wear it I hope you remember to be gentle on yourself as well as your fellow humans or gift it to someone who could use a little extra love.”

Perfect.

Pattern: Rainbow Warrior by Casapinka
Yarn: Three Irish Girls, Adorn Luxe “Dorian Gray” and “Sexy MF”
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A bird slammed into our front window this morning. He then landed wrong side up on the sidewalk, twitched for about ten minutes, and died. My heart broke, yet I soldiered on to a crowded mall for white chocolate peppermint tea and an embroidered jacket for Meredith and a visit with my mom and some bad guacamole. Most importantly, my flipping of the bird in the photo above is not me being all nasty (although I AM nasty). My flipping of the bird is my subtle tribute to this morning’s flipped bird. (This song is not about you. Clouds in your coffee. CLOUDS IN YOUR COFFEE!)

Emotion Check: Currently, I’m probably 68% happy and maybe 3% angry. (An ocean of emotion, me. Threadbare! Sentimental! Self-conscious! Curious! Hesitant! Contemplative! Also, slightly hungry, but smells nice! (I sprayed meditation oil in my hair. On purpose.))

I’m currently entertaining a warped notion that if I finish the shawl/scarf in the above photo before Tuesday, my preferred candidate will win the presidential election. If I don’t finish it? I don’t even want to know, Sporty. (Don’t worry about me. Not only do I have the proper medication for all of my quirks, I ALSO have eight ounces of white chocolate peppermint tea! And yoga! And Jesus. (Also, jeans that sculpt. Supposedly.)) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

When I drove Harper to school this morning, I wore my regular school day uniform, which consists of black yoga pants, a stretched-out old white V-neck t-shirt, and some sort of cascading cardigan. (Today it was the red one.)

When I returned home, I learned that Hope Sandoval released a new album, so I decided to change into something that I would have worn when I heard Mazzy Star for the first time. (The necklace is one my mom wore to parties in the 70s.)

I then packed up my left ear and met one of my very favorite people for a three hour coffee session.

Question: What comes after coffee?
Answer: Avocado sushi.

After lunch, I visited a sweet cat named Figaro at the pet store and then drove home to put together a caramel pie for this evening’s happy hour.

So far, so good.

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The tree in the photo below didn’t have berries in 2014.
He didn’t have berries in 2015.
He now has berries.

Don’t correct me if I’m wrong, but I think he has berries because he’s been having tree sex with THIS little lady who lives on the other side of the garage.

The only reason I suspect copulation is because she has NEVER had this MANY berries. It’s like they’re just passing berries back and forth all willy nilly and while I certainly don’t mind, I think this tree does.

Why does she mind? Because SHE is fresh berry guy’s WIFE! She’s planted less than four feet away from him, and come on! She’s not blind. She sees what’s going on here. (We ALL see what’s going on here.)

Because it’s only November 3rd and I’m already struggling for things to talk about, let me share the following with you (again). It’s Meredith and her friend playing Trees. (Of course.)

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One week from today we will (hopefully) know who the next President of the United States will be.

It doesn’t matter who wins. (It really does matter. It does! Holy crap. Yes.)

Everything is going to be okay. (I hope everything will be okay. Dear God, please make everything be okay.)

Here. Wait. As long as I know that this place exists, everything will be okay.

It combines two of my favorite things and I’ve never been there and I have no idea how it works. Question: Because I focus on veggie sushi, would I have to eat a bunch of rice and asparagus wrapped in a seaweed tortilla? (I don’t want to know the answer to that question. Everything is going to be okay.)

As long as the Half Crocked Chef keeps serving up honey flights, everything will be okay.

I went to Springfield last weekend to visit my sister. She took me to Half Crocked Chef, and I fell in LOVE. I now have a jar of their raw honey with fresh bee pollen and a jar of Hawaiian Hot Honey, which is raw honey infused with Hawaiian hot peppers, li hing mui, Hawaiian sea salt, and pineapple. I hate that my life is halfway over and I’m just now eating Half Crocked Chef honey. BUT, everything will be okay.

As long as Violence, Tobacco, and Inhalants can still chill with Cocaine, LSD, and Marijuana to the tune of Total Eclipse of the Heart on a stage in an elementary school gymnasium, everything will be okay.

“I don’t know what to do and I’m always in the dark! We’re living in a powder keg and giving off sparks!”
But it’s going to be okay. Hopefully.
It will.
Vote. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

While Jeff took Harper and her friends around the neighborhood, Meredith and I sat on the steps and handed out candy to the 50ish kids who gadded about on Halloween.

Our cauldron (because we have a cauldron) was filled with Smarties and Tootsie Pop Drops and M&M’s [sic] and a bunch of shabby crap that we grabbed on the cheap. After a few toddlers stopped by and turned their noses up at our offerings, I ran to the pantry and grabbed twenty or so bags of fruit snacks to add to the pot.

The fruit snacks went fast.

Me: I think I want to try something.

Meredith: What?

Me: Let’s see if anyone will take the mac and cheese.

At that point, we stopped handing out the candy and allowed each visitor to reach into the cauldron (because we have a cauldron) and take what they wanted. Ten minutes later, the mac and cheese was gone. (The young boy who took it (a middle schooler named Zach) was Very Excited.)

Me: Let’s step it up a notch.

Meredith: What’s next?

Ramen.

I was surprised to learn that not many kids even recognized the Ramen.

Spiderman Kid: What’s that?

Me: Noodles!

Meredith: That’s the good stuff!

Spiderman Kid used his (really weak) spider sense and went for the final bag of fruit snacks.

Twenty minutes later, a group of girls came by dressed as characters that I didn’t understand.

Unrecognizable #4: RAMEN! I’M TAKING THE RAMEN!

Yes.

Me: We are currently one step away from a tiny can of tomato paste.

Meredith: What goes before the tomato paste?

Me: Can of Soup.

Meredith: No one wants Can of Soup.

She was right. Can of Soup turned up his charm, put his best face forward, and prayed for a brief pillow case journey to someone else’s home. Sadly, he was consistently cast aside in favor of Dubble Bubbles, WarHeads, and even an unwrapped Tiger Pop, which happens to be the worst lollipop ever made.

Can of Soup, born under an evil star, is once again shelved—his potential unrealized.