No wonder

these kids are Scared of Santa.  All the fat guys in the red suit look like serial killers.  Now Tim Allen?  I’d sit on his lap anytime.

Thanks to Bonne Marie for the link.

WIP central

I’m sorry I haven’t blogged much lately. But I have the day off today (insert Doxology here), so I’m catching up on what I’ve neglected lately. One reason I’ve been notblogging rather than knitblogging is that I’ve been knitting like, well, like the Fates (I know, I know, they spun and measured and cut–but it involved yarn and scissors, I can count it). Here are a few pics of WIPs. Nothing to write home about, but they are keeping me from going to the mall and spending inordinate amounts of money on Christmas gifts. Call it self-control therapy.

Ripped from the knitting bag—

First toe-up sock EVAR, and I’m delighted that it looks like a sock monkey. For my dad. The yarn is a dream to knit with: the chocolate brown and cream are from the lovely Marion for the Chocolate Swap. It’s Bergere de France. I think I need more. The red is from an eBay purchase. It’s elann’s Peruvian Highland Chunky, affordable and oh-so-yummy.

Since we’re on a mythology kick here Chez Bluey, I’ll show you the yarn from Hades. I had to cross the River Styx to get it (i.e. the knitting needles). I have tried several different patterns to knit a scarf for a friend, and I hated all of them. The latest iteration, a moebius scarf, developed a strange error (how’s that for passing the buck?) and I had to frog it. I’m like Ulysses, the gods hate me. I’ll try again when the urge to snip it into tiny bits passes. The Fates reference was an appropriate one, then, wasn’t it?

Wildflowers scarf–renamed here Garden Salad–still beautiful, still unfinished. Love you Ellen!

And last but not least, the Tropicana sock–here renamed Lakes and Oceans. This is the second one, and I have turned the heel and am heading down the foot. If your name is Mom, act surprised when you see these in person. This time it won’t be hkme’s fault that secrets weren’t kept.

And can we talk? Just a minute ago, I heard a slurping sound and looked over to see my Yorkie drinking my coffee. Some things never change. When he was a puppy, he launched himself onto Gock’s lap, stuck his beak in the scalding hot coffee and then shot the spray all over everyone sitting there. Moral to the story, don’t let the coffee get too cold or it’s up for grabs. I guess I’ll go get another cup, and maybe a refill for the dog.

Word of the day

Because I am in grade three, here’s a slang word for you to define.  Who knows what gitch is?  Or gotch?  And don’t look it up in the Urban Dictionary, because as we all know, all the words are dirty on that site.

As a self-styled etymologist (not the one who likes bugs), I was also interested to learn the origin of said word.  Any ideas?