Okay, you're gonna laugh...

...I woke up from this strange dream about saving the life of a buffalo calf from this kind of mean person, and taking it to a cave a' la Valley of Horses and feeding him and combing out his shedding coat and spinning it into wool. I made a colored woven belt to give to the mean guy as payment for sparing the life of the calf.

I woke up with this burning desire to relearn to knit. I'd taught myself out of a book when I was a child, but had forgotten over the years. I have no knitting needles and no yarn, buffalo calf or otherwise...but I have embroidery thread and ...hmm...hairsticks!!!

Now with some experimentation, I relearned how to cast-on...I have a neat row of stitches, just as I remembered they should look. Of course, now I'm done with my experimental first row..I'm stumped. Something about a stitch and casting the stiches onto the other needle one by one. I have to look up some knitting sites today, I think. And later if it's not too cold go yarn shopping.

How many of you have had dreams that jump-started old skills? Tell me about them; I'm very curious.

*drinks hot tea for still-scratchy throat*

Holleee Schpedoinkal, Batman!

I did it!!! I figured out again how to knit!!! All by myself without checking ANYTHING, because I was checking e-mail and playing with the embroidey thread and grumbling!:)

I are a smart, smart minkey.

I knit you all lumpy bookmarks now!!! Bwahahahahahaa!!!

Attention Mercury Retrograde...

Enough is enough, Mercury Retrograde. If you don't stop messing with me and the people I love best, I'm coming up there with the pointiest boots I own to kick your wussy-planet ass.

Don't think I can't do it, mister. I'm a Cap with a lot of Scorpio in my chart....meaning I will take a savage glee in the ass-kicking combined with the Puritain work-ethic rush of a job well and truly done. Capishe?

One of my dearest pals and his lovely and very pregnat wife have been burgled. The universe has got to fucking pay.

Who needs a bedtime story?!?!?! I do I do!

I think we're all just overtired, what with one thing or another...plagues, wars, viruses, Satan running around in those god-damned feetie pajamas his mother bought him...

So to make us all sleepy, I give you Mr Roman Dirge's "Dance of the Bedbugs" from the book "something at the window is scratching."
(I would have made you up a story, but I'm stumped.)

DANCE OF THE BEDBUGS

There once was a bear
named Popple Fubbie.
He had a special pillow
that he called his "Wubbie".
Late one night,
Popple was very tired.
the thought of sleep
he admired.
so on went his jammies,
and he grabbed his bunny,
flicked on the light--
but something was funny.

A dozen tiny bugs
danced on his bed.
Happy to see him--
bedbugs to be fed.
"Oh no!" exclaimed Popple.
"I can't sleep here.
You bugs eating me
I surely do fear."
Looking around at all the bugs
in their places,
a thought of fear
could be seen on their faces.
As Popple turned to leave,
his bed he would not be sleeping.
He heard a weird sound--
a baby bedbug was weeping.

"Why do you cry,
tiny bug on my sheets?"
"I don't want to starve,"
said the bug.
"You were my only eats."
"I'm really sorry little bug
if it seems selfish of me--
but if you eat me,
I will no longer be
alive to do all the things that i please."
"We beg you." Cried the bugs,
now sadly on their knees.
"I'll just sleep in another room,"
And away turned the bear.
"Oh, after you're sleeping,
We'll just eat you in there."

Suddenly Popple realized
the trouble he was in.
He couldn't go to sleep
without becoming din-din.
He played lots of loud music
and coffee he drank,
but slowly into
subconsciousness he sank.
Popple held his eyes open--
his life he must keep.
the bedbugs started yawning,
trying to trick him into sleep.
He fought as long as he could,
before he began to topple--
but in the end,
the bugs had a bowlful of Popple.


And the moral of that story is...ummmm...wash your bedding often? Don't eat right before bed? Don't name your kids Popple? Roman Dirge is a scary babysitter?

*grin*