Dear Dymphna

Dear Dymphna, Patron Saint of Knitters,

Do you see that photo up there? That's my hand, making a sad face. I know that hands don't have faces, but whatever. My hand is pretty bummed because it doesn't fit into the mitten that I spent my entire Saturday knitting for it. I was thinking that maybe you could pull some strings and get me a little somethin somethin that can help me with my recurring knitting problems, like, oh, the patience to make test swatches, or the wisdom to see that my project seems to be oddly shaped/sized and maybe I should start over before I waste my time knitting accessories that only Paul Bunyan/Thumbelina/Bulbasaur could wear. I would really appreciate the help, and so would my sad hand. Thanks very much, or rather, go raibh maith agat.

-Breezy

Current Obsession: Le Monochromatic Outfit

I used to see this certain boy all the time. I didn't know who he was, but he seemed really dark and mysterious and beautiful to me (MAYBE HE'S A VAMPIRE! - just kidding, I will never say anything like that again), and he never wore clothing that wasn't black or grey. Hip and classy. I became friends with one of his friends and learned a bit about him, and as soon as I found out that he actually did wear other colors, the magic was gone. But I think he was the one who made color-centric outfits cool for me.

A couple of years ago for Christmas, my mom bought me this long grey wool coat. I tell people that it makes me look like a member of the Gestapo. This winter I'm going to spice things up and get accessories in all different shades of grey so that I can look like a fashionable member of the Gestapo. I'm starting early and knitting a pair of awesome grey mittens, that I first saw a certain actress wearing in a certain movie *cough*. They are going to be my most challenging knit yet. I will tell you how it goes.

P.S. Maybe someday I will take my monochromatic love to the next level like these folks who are tippy toe on that fine line between crazy and magnificent.

Let's Get Personal

Everyone is interesting. You, you reading this right now, you are interesting. I believe it. I want to know you in the non-Biblical sense. I'm tired of talking about myself. I want to do the blog interview thing, except you don't have to be famous, you don't have to be accomplished in any way. All of you people in Gainsville, Florida and Wantagh, New York and Strausbourg, Alsace - I want to talk to you. I don't care if you think you're boring, because I know that you are not. Give me your e-mail and I will send you a set of random questions, the answers of which will be posted here. It will be fun.

The Addictive Qualities of Twilight the Movie a.k.a. Stephanie Meyer is a Devil Woman

Guys, I know that Twilight is supposed to be for hormonal preteen girls and it's really corny and stuff, but the other day while I was perusing Youtube, I accidently clicked on a Twilight movie trailer, and just like Mr. Darcy says - "I was bewitched, body and soul!" First of all, I am unexplainably attracted to skinny, pale, feminine British men with prominent eyebrows. Secondly, who didn't have a ladyfriend in high school who wrote a vampire romance novel with the exact same plot? Really!?

I just told Wiki that after we hung out last night, I spent almost two hours fiddling with my computer so I could find and watch me some bootleg Twilight. Then when I lost my shoddy internet connection less than halfway through the movie, I had a breakdown of crack-whore-ish proportions. Today, I had to go to Blockbuster and get a decent copy so I WOULDN'T DIE, and as soon as work is over, I'm racing home and watching the rest, sans interruptions. And I will dream of the day when a possessive, blood-sucking zombie falls deeply and violently in love with me, too....

Current Obsession:

When I was a freshman in high school and excelling in my low-level biology class, I briefly believed that one day I would become a hot lady veterinarian and move to the countryside where I would spend my days delivering cow-babies and setting broken legs of sheepdogs while wearing floppy straw hats and backless peasant tops from the Delia's catalog. Woo! Luckily, my interest in studying medicine fizzled after I spent a day in a medical research laboratory, bored to tears. Also luckily, my interest in backless peasant tops from the Delia's catalog (and, in fact, backless garments of all varieties) fizzled after I had to Nair my back before I could wear my only slighlty revealing senior prom dress (For that, I will blame my mother's ancestors, who hail from a land where women are known for growing hair in unconventional places, and my father's ancestors, who were part Troll).



Anywho, the one element of that freshman fantasy that did stay with me was the whole floppy straw hat thing. This winter, I was watching "The Jewel of the Nile" on the Man Hater Channel, and in the opening scene, Kathleen Turner - playing a dimwitted journalist doing a story on a shady Emir in an ambiguous Middle Eastern location - is sitting on a boat wearing some brootiful, romantic straw accoutrement. It was then that I decided that this would be the summer where I put aside my irrational fear of looking like a Kentucky Derby yuppy or pre-amnesia "Overboard" Goldie Hawn and jump on the big summer hat bandwagon. After unsuccessfully hunting for one that actually fit my big head, I was getting slightly discouraged. However, last Saturday at the mall during a Shoe Shopping Death March, I was drawn by unseen forces into Gap. I don't know how this happened because I hate all Gap Inc stores and their crappy products, but as I was unenthusiastically poking through their accessories section I saw that, GOD BLESS THEM, THEIR HATS COME IN SIZE LARGE! So I got this:

Yaaaaaay!

But guess what, Gap? I still hate you.

Why I'm Going To Start Riding My Bicycle To Work

This morning, after I got on the bus, I waited with the other passengers for about five minutes while the woman behind me dug slowly through her giant purse, looking for her bus card. She finally found it and fed it into the ticket taker. Instead of going to find a seat, she continued to stand there, staring at the driver.

"Can you open the door?" she said.
"What?"
"I need to get off," she mumbled. "...I'm not wearing any shoes."

We all looked down, dumbfounded, at her gnarly bare feet and watched as she tripped off the bus and back down the street where she came from.

Happy May Day!

The theme for 2009 seems to be "Nostalgia". First it was blanket fort parties (I'm going to another on Cinqo de Mayo, hee!). Then the other day when I was brushing my teeth I had a flashback to the May Firsts of yesteryear. Did you ever go around and leave baskets -or styrofoam cups- of candy at your friends' doors before you rang the bell and ran away? And remember, if you got caught, you had to give your friend a kiss (but no one ever really did that because kissing was groooooooss).

This year, I am bringing May Day back. I made cones out of construction paper and filled them with banana bread and brownies and little candy bars and colored feathers. On my lunch break and after work I'm going to flit around town, ding-dong-ditching. Yay!