First of all, I would like to apologize to my father:
Dad, I promised you these socks for your birthday, back in May. I know that you had wanted a dark colour, like black or grey, but I'm thinking the blue would go well with your jeans. And since you're going to be semi-retired soon, I thought you'd be spending more time in your jeans. I hope you like the colour, I'm just really sorry these weren't done earlier.
I'm also really sorry to report that this version of your sock will soon look like that porcupine we came upon that winter when we were snowshoeing. Um, yeah... the one that you decided MUST DIE... and you, uh, shot...* Well, this sock? It's soon gonna look like blood on the snow.
The sock is too big. Andrew tried it on and declared it "Almost too loose" for his foot. Andrew's feet are bigger than my dad's feet. This will be the SECOND TIME I RIP THIS SOCK. I had small breakdown about it this morning. Yup. I cried about the sock. I know: Knitting should not make you cry. It really shouldn't. But sometimes it does. Right, Jen?
But Dad? Because I love you very, very much, I will rip this wretched thing out AGAIN and start over again. sigh. Only 15 000 stitches to go.
Secondly, I would like to apologize to Cookie A., creator of the beautifulPomatomus sock pattern:
This is the Pomatomus sock which I barely started with the Trekking yarn. Cookie, this yarn is too dark for your beautiful pattern. Your pattern would look much better made out of the beautiful yarn I set aside at Tangled Skeins this afternoon. It needs subtle colour changes. The Trekking yarn would look better as something else.
If the truth were to be told, I just can't cope with the pattern it right now. Too much on my mind. Especially since I've already killed one sock TWICE. *sobs into keyboard*
You'll notice that the cuff is already off the needles. I don't think I should tell you what happened to those needles. Let's just say that I've put them in a witness protection program.
Last but not least:
One thing that must die and six things that must not meet an untimely end:
Die ugly metal shed, DIE! I hate you and your clanging doors that never really closed. I hate your nasty "Eau de Garbage" stench. I hate your rotting floorboards: They are nasty and spongy and I put my foot through one of them last summer. I hate how cardboard boxes seemed to appear and multiply inside you. I hate that you have harboured rats, mice and other vermin. I have removed your garbage cans, your cardboard boxes, your nasty rat shit**, your random pieces of wood, your garden hose, your rusting paint cans and your old flower pots. Tomorrow, I will vanquish you. Die, evil shed, die!
Coincidentally, while cleaning the shed I was wearing a t-shirt that says, "Divorce" across the front. It's from a record lable called: Divorce Records. Mr. Happy arrived home mid-way through the cleaning process. He took one look at my shirt and asked, "Is that a threat to get me to help?" I said, "Yes". He immediately pitched in and helped clear out the shed.
Now, look at what is in front of the doomed shed:
The plants and trees in this photo must LIVE. They were purchased today in a heat-induced stupor. Mr. Happy tried to stop me, but they were such a good price, there was no way I was leaving them behind. The Ivy will be used to cover our ugly fence (Ivy, did you know that you could accomplish this feat?) and the trees... oh boy, the trees will hopefully bear us delicious FRUIT! You, my friends, are looking at a pear tree and a plum tree. I'm more excited about these trees than I am about my four-year-old Lilac bush - and trust me, I'm excited about the Lilacs!
The trees were $15 each; the ivy were 2 for 1. I'm looking at these plants as not only an investment in my well-being ('cause knowing that you are hopefully going to have fruit in your yard is definitely good for your soul) but as an investment in my property:
- My fence is UGLY - it needs those Ivy plants to hide the ugly.
- A property that has fruit trees on it, well, that's got to be more appealing than other properties, right?
Now I just need to stop neglecting my flower beds. Gah. I'm such a negligent gardiner. Norma? Can you come visit and tell me what the heck I should be doing here? My neighbour is getting sick of rescueing my flowerbeds.
*Please, no "porcupine killer" comments about the fact that my dad shot a porcupine. This happened over 15 years ago (Whoa - 15 years!) You've probably hit a porcupine with your car since then. Or you've hit a squirrel... or worse, someone's cute little tabby cat. I bet you made a child cry.
My dad is a very nice man. And he tends to hunt with his camera now, moreso than with firearms.
**yes, rat SHIT. There is nothing pretty, nor cute about rat shit. I can't bring myself to call it poop or kaka. 'cause it ain't. It's some nasty rat shit. As soon as I was done cleaning the shed, I went inside, put my clothes in the laundry and got in the shower. Ew, ew, ew.
Dad, I promised you these socks for your birthday, back in May. I know that you had wanted a dark colour, like black or grey, but I'm thinking the blue would go well with your jeans. And since you're going to be semi-retired soon, I thought you'd be spending more time in your jeans. I hope you like the colour, I'm just really sorry these weren't done earlier.
I'm also really sorry to report that this version of your sock will soon look like that porcupine we came upon that winter when we were snowshoeing. Um, yeah... the one that you decided MUST DIE... and you, uh, shot...* Well, this sock? It's soon gonna look like blood on the snow.
The sock is too big. Andrew tried it on and declared it "Almost too loose" for his foot. Andrew's feet are bigger than my dad's feet. This will be the SECOND TIME I RIP THIS SOCK. I had small breakdown about it this morning. Yup. I cried about the sock. I know: Knitting should not make you cry. It really shouldn't. But sometimes it does. Right, Jen?
But Dad? Because I love you very, very much, I will rip this wretched thing out AGAIN and start over again. sigh. Only 15 000 stitches to go.
Secondly, I would like to apologize to Cookie A., creator of the beautifulPomatomus sock pattern:
This is the Pomatomus sock which I barely started with the Trekking yarn. Cookie, this yarn is too dark for your beautiful pattern. Your pattern would look much better made out of the beautiful yarn I set aside at Tangled Skeins this afternoon. It needs subtle colour changes. The Trekking yarn would look better as something else.
If the truth were to be told, I just can't cope with the pattern it right now. Too much on my mind. Especially since I've already killed one sock TWICE. *sobs into keyboard*
You'll notice that the cuff is already off the needles. I don't think I should tell you what happened to those needles. Let's just say that I've put them in a witness protection program.
Last but not least:
One thing that must die and six things that must not meet an untimely end:
Die ugly metal shed, DIE! I hate you and your clanging doors that never really closed. I hate your nasty "Eau de Garbage" stench. I hate your rotting floorboards: They are nasty and spongy and I put my foot through one of them last summer. I hate how cardboard boxes seemed to appear and multiply inside you. I hate that you have harboured rats, mice and other vermin. I have removed your garbage cans, your cardboard boxes, your nasty rat shit**, your random pieces of wood, your garden hose, your rusting paint cans and your old flower pots. Tomorrow, I will vanquish you. Die, evil shed, die!
Coincidentally, while cleaning the shed I was wearing a t-shirt that says, "Divorce" across the front. It's from a record lable called: Divorce Records. Mr. Happy arrived home mid-way through the cleaning process. He took one look at my shirt and asked, "Is that a threat to get me to help?" I said, "Yes". He immediately pitched in and helped clear out the shed.
Now, look at what is in front of the doomed shed:
The plants and trees in this photo must LIVE. They were purchased today in a heat-induced stupor. Mr. Happy tried to stop me, but they were such a good price, there was no way I was leaving them behind. The Ivy will be used to cover our ugly fence (Ivy, did you know that you could accomplish this feat?) and the trees... oh boy, the trees will hopefully bear us delicious FRUIT! You, my friends, are looking at a pear tree and a plum tree. I'm more excited about these trees than I am about my four-year-old Lilac bush - and trust me, I'm excited about the Lilacs!
The trees were $15 each; the ivy were 2 for 1. I'm looking at these plants as not only an investment in my well-being ('cause knowing that you are hopefully going to have fruit in your yard is definitely good for your soul) but as an investment in my property:
- My fence is UGLY - it needs those Ivy plants to hide the ugly.
- A property that has fruit trees on it, well, that's got to be more appealing than other properties, right?
Now I just need to stop neglecting my flower beds. Gah. I'm such a negligent gardiner. Norma? Can you come visit and tell me what the heck I should be doing here? My neighbour is getting sick of rescueing my flowerbeds.
*Please, no "porcupine killer" comments about the fact that my dad shot a porcupine. This happened over 15 years ago (Whoa - 15 years!) You've probably hit a porcupine with your car since then. Or you've hit a squirrel... or worse, someone's cute little tabby cat. I bet you made a child cry.
My dad is a very nice man. And he tends to hunt with his camera now, moreso than with firearms.
**yes, rat SHIT. There is nothing pretty, nor cute about rat shit. I can't bring myself to call it poop or kaka. 'cause it ain't. It's some nasty rat shit. As soon as I was done cleaning the shed, I went inside, put my clothes in the laundry and got in the shower. Ew, ew, ew.
uhhhh - uhmmm - (tiny scared voice) we love you???
ReplyDelete(don't kill us)
When you say Die, shed, die, you really mean "the shed, the" right?
ReplyDeleteHope you aren't dismanteling it in the rain.
Your shed tirade made me think of the Arthur "Two Sheds" Jackson Monty Python sketch.
ReplyDeleteHere's wishing you ninja-like sock prowess, Stephanie "No Sheds" Happy.
Steph, you want ivy, come to my back yard and help yourself. We rip up tons of the stuff every year, as it threatens to overrun the lawn. Nice looking, variegated stuff. It transplants well, actually, cause my parents took some home last year. Honest, help yourself, take the stuff that's covering over the flagstones, cause otherwise it must DIE!
ReplyDeleteOur garden is a semi-disaster. Too many weeds. I can't keep on top of them.
ReplyDeletePoor socks. Poor Steph.
As for the hunting, I don't judge. You haven't met my uncle-in-law. Whoa, hunter. (reminiscent of "it was coming straight for me!")