Monthly Archives: August 2005

Crackers and JAM!

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Today is my best friend Juli’s birthday. This picture was taken by Rob during our recent trip out to Colorado to visit her and her husband Chad.

I adore Juli. We met in the 7th grade, we were 12 and she had just moved to my town. I was a brat and she was the new girl. She tells this very funny story about how we first met. Apparently she was working the “Buy a Carnation for Valentine’s Day” table. We had these fundraisers for just about any holiday. You could purchase a carnation for your friends and it was sent to them during homeroom. The number of carnations you carried was a badge of popularity. I hated those days. I walked up to Juli wearing a red and white striped sweater and Sassoon Jeans (this was 1988 after all) with zippers and a bow at the heel. I fully remember these articles of clothing however, I do not remember wearing them on this particular occasion. This is all Juli’s memory. Then and there she decided she would be my friend.

In the 8th grade I made her sign a contract. I wish we still had the contract. It’s in a landfill somewhere, Juli’s mom threw it out with her year books (Juli’s mom is a cuckoo. We love her, but man is she the source of some funny stories.) The contract centered around my 13-year old insecurity. Worried that I would someday not be cool enough for her and she would leave me for another. She never did, and neither did I. We’re still best friends to this day. I talk to her about 80 times a week and I can’t wait for us to live near each other again. She was my matron of honor as I was hers. She will help me raise my kids and teach them aspects of life that I will never be able to grasp, let alone teach. We will be old ladies together. I can’t wait. She is the absolute best.

Happy Birthday Jam!

Boobage and Undies

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What cracks me up is the number of you who wanted to see me posed like the pin-up. I almost went that far with the photo but pulled back for fear of the lingering whispers that would make my ears ring. And then you all go and ask for it. I love you guys!

“Have you seen that Bookish Girl (*notice here that I am no longer referred to as THE but as THAT*), she showed her Ta-taas to the internet.” CynCyn referred to them as my ta-taas, which has brought me an embarrassing amount of laughter. No worries, my inner child is alive and well.)

My imagination then takes me crying out to an empty Internet – but isn’t me in my undies enough?! Yes, that’s me in my undies, a picture taken by my sweet hubby on our honeymoon, Undies given to me by my girl Marne on my wedding day. The picture was taken in a moment of hilarity and when I asked hub many months later to make me a header this is the one that he dug out. Except I believe the first one he mocked up had the boobage in it. Not exposed, mind you. I am a good Catholic girl and he is a good Southern Boy (yes, he is THAT Southern Boy.)

Actually, I didn’t want him to take the picture. We were getting dressed for dinner, I had the undies on, he thought it was great. I relented using my hands to hide the good stuff, the photo was snapped. I almost erased it. The fates took hand and the rest is, as they say, history.

TMI? You can’t tell me there aren’t embarrassing half-naked photos of you all there?! I know my readers. Come on! Spill it!

I’ll be back later with TTTT in its full glory. First I have to figure out how to not screw up an increase over and over and over and over again! Oh and my Idiosyncrasies! I still have to write up those!

A Spicy Yarn

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My taste in art is a bit strange, influenced by many different factors. I happen to really like pin-up pictures from the 30s, 40s, 50s and 60s. I think some of it has to do with nostalgia for times spent with a close friend (that I’ve known since we were 10) who is now a tattoo artist. He loved to draw pin-ups and always had lots of books to look at. One famous pin-up artist is Gil Elvgren. He created hundreds of drawings, many of them of the same pose with different cloths (or lack thereof) and/or backgrounds. The woman were hippy and busty and perky and butty. No waifs in his drawings. He used live models and made them pose in these awkward positions. Very interesting process. The drawings were used, for the most part, in advertising. During the 50s he worked for a firm that paid him $1,000 a drawing. Not a bad living. Melanoma’s pin-up on her header is a modification of one of his drawings. Melanie picked out the picture (her husband is a tattoo artist, are you sensing a theme here?) and Robby put some flames in for her.

I’m in the process of knitting up Grumperina’s Tivoli T in Brown Sheep Cotton Fleece. My husband calls this the TTTT (Trailer Trash Tank Top.) I’m not sure what brought this about but it makes me giggle.

I tried it on the other night to make sure the boobage would fit properly. I was contemplating short rows a la Shapely Tank but thought better of them after trying it on. I think the way the pattern is written eliminates the need. ‘Sides that, two of the model’s bust sizes are just about at mine. I love me some big busted models. Makes me feel all at home and crap.

I downloaded the picture of me in my TTTT and it sparked a memory of a Gil Elvgren pin up that I saw a few weeks ago (in said friend’s tattoo shop)and was hoping to use in a new (gasp) blog design.

What do you think? Am I the next pin-up model or what?!

She has a hole!

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To assuage your fears that Oinky would meet the fate of many a ceramic objects, I feel I should disclose that she has a hole.*ehem*

I’m cruising along to my goal. I have managed to put away $15 the last two weeks. There is an extra dollar and some change in there. This, added by husband, was bribery. He really wanted a massage. He thought he could buy one off me. But he wanted to hold payment until after the act to be sure, “It was worth a dollar.” Love that kid. Needless to say, he got the massage and I got the dollar.

Weekend Update – We had an unlovely weekend with my sweet parents. They were in town for a visit and managed to come down with the stomach flu just as they walked into the door. Total pooper (in more ways than one.) It was not so fun for them. In the end they enjoyed their time off from the real world and Rob and I enjoyed just having them around. Since then, I have been home with a bit of stomach instability myself.

A great reason to catch up on some blogging, where I have been largely absent.

A – Because of the flu I missed this shindig at Julia’s. I was pretty pissed about this as these girls make me laugh and I was really looking forward to sweating my ass off. And they got to see Julia’s stash! I mean, is that like pornographic or what?

B – I have been tagged by the oh so charmingly wicked Micky for the idiot meme. Oh, I mean idiosyncrasy meme. I’ve been mulling this over and really – all my idiosyncrasies make me a bit of an idiot. In a good way, of course. Answers will come in a future post.

C – Yesterday I received a package. Sweet love from the Notorious V-i-c-k-i. I have gotten few packages from bloggers and when I do I feel blessed and giddy and happy all over. Many thanks Ms Vicki. I’m so sad I didn’t get to meet you while you we on the left coast! I will put the sharpies to GOOD use.

D – Last, but certainly not least, I give you this.

Kay’s winning package. I will not show you what’s inside. But I will tell you that all of my contests will come with a disclaimer. *Warning! The Bookish Girl, while well intentioned, is exceedingly lazy. Enter at your own risk* The only good thing about this laziness/well intentioned combo is that my guilt causes me to add to the package to make up for the delay. I expect to ship by Christmas – at which point Kay will have to move to a new house to fit all of its goodness.

Frustration with and Joy to -Pink.-

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I was at the junk store the other night and found this pretty pink pig.

Meet Oinky. With all of your cheers echoing in my ear I thought that she would be the perfect companion to my yarn saving budget. See, Oinky is a piggy bank – buying into all kinds of stereotypes. A pig, a bank. Go figure.

The savings is slow going with just my measly contribution. Oinky somehow sensed this and was gracious enough to agree to a placard for her delicate back.

(We’re totally not against whoring out the pig in the name of yarn)

Let’s not forget the other side…

Now who in their right mind could resist a plea like that? The cats and dogs have all been given pep talks. I expect that Oinky’s large pink body will be filled in no time!


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A few weeks ago I took a day off of work to “regroup”. I looked forward to knitting my day away. I ate a bit- o-breakfast, fired up the Tivo and settled down.

My sweetie gave me some yarn and a pattern for Christmas. He had expressed some concern that I never knit anything for myself. The rule was I had to use this yarn and pattern for me. Twist-my-freaking-arm. He rocks. For real. What kind of husband passes the crack over freely? Mine does.

Yarn: Dalegarn Svale
Pattern from NR 132 Nr 11

I swatched it up. I swatched until I was blue in the face. Rob looked at me and said – you never spend this much time with your swatches. Tis true, I am a fickle swatcher. I do it, but at the bare minimum of effort. My gauge was off a bit. I made some math happen and viola…I’m ready to cast on (228 stiches!)

And rip…and cast on again. I crusied through the first row. And ripped. Miscounted.

Didn’t have to cast on this time. Just reknit the first row and on to the second row. Knitting straight across 228 stitches flew by. Whew. Watch me go.

And watch me realize that I have cast on the wrong number of stitches. A-G-A-I-N.

For those of you keeping score:

Ripping Bad Guy – 3
Bookish Girl – 0

This is where my day ended:

That blob south of the ball? It will be cut from the lifeline of its source. I know it’s conspiring against me. To add insult to injury it insisted on tangling itself up.

Rome wasn’t built in a day.

Lunchtime Math

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It’s lunchtime in the office of the Bookish Girl and we’re ready for some math.

Rob and I live in a 3-family house, of which we own exactly 1 floor and 1/3 of the shared areas. What this equals is about 8,000 lbs of headache. Not because our neighbors are horrible, they are awesome. Not because we weren’t self aware and careful about our purchase, because we were. Because we were fooled and led astray by an evil developer with a small bank account and an even smaller brain, we recently discovered that our “new” roof (”new” when we bought it, almost 2 years ago) needs to be replaced. “New” roofs don’t have $10K worth of repairs in them. No, “new” roofs that have 10K worth of repairs need to be REPLACED. Jerk.

This leads to our next math problem. My next project. Project? Me? Knit? Yes, I do, every day, every weekend, every minute that I can. You’d think I’d talk about it a bit more, eh? Yah, you’d think.

So, Kay waxes phil about the beauty and loveliness of denim. Kay taints us with announcements of said denim on sale. And then Knit and Tonic (a Knitting Wendy!) drapes herself across her blog with an even larger carrot – a Finished Sweater, Raspy (Rowan from Denim People.) This is totally my kind of sweater. The yarn at Elann is totally my kind of price. It’s a beautiful coupling. That is, until you consider the roof. And my budget. And my debt. And my teeny paycheck. And the vacation I just took.


I think that this project will take 13 balls of the Den-M-ite Yarn (13*100 yards = 1300 yards.) This may be cutting it close as the Rowan denim (the pattern yarn) has 101 yards in it (13*101 yards = 1313 yards.) If I am 13 yards short I will cry.

Each ball costs $3.25, $3.25 * 13 = $42.25. Not too bad, considering the cost of the Rowan Denim. Shipping! This/These bag(s) of yarn will find its way to my door for a mere $7.25.

Total cost = $49.50

If I save $15 of my allowance (yes, we have a weekly allowance, it’s the only way to control our spending) I think I can save enough in: $50/$15 = 3.333333 weeks. August 19th to be exact. Which is nice. Between now and then I can finish up and start one project in my pile. And I can get you all updated on my knitting adventures.

They’re crazy I tell you and almost all involve some math!

Blah, Blah, Blah, Blahs

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I’m stuck in a bit of a blah mode. Rob and I pretended we were young and hip last night. We drove down to Providence to see a former bandmate of Rob’s. Picture this – hip, happening, white man and woman in an old Saturn driving up and down this residential street in a “marginal” neighborhood wondering out-loud, where the hell is this place? As it turns out, the venue was an old warehouse that was once involved in a major marijuana growing operation (this I just found out when I googled it.) An old warehouse with lots of crusty old couches, a variety of scenesters and our friend Pete. I wish we had the camera.

It was actually a lot of fun. A bit outside of our usual night of sitting on the couch with our dinner and Tivo. We heard some great live music and some not so great live music. Mostly, we got to connect with a friend from our days back in Athens. That was really the best part.

The second best part. Driving home in the wickedest (is this a word?) storm ever. Lightening that could kill you with its brightness. It was rad.

Not so rad – home at 1:30 am, up at 7:00 am. I am tired today.

And this afternoon, I’m arguing with Anne about toilet paper and we somehow lead into saltpeter. Which, apparently can be used, along with the first urine of the day, to protect your home, or your floors, or something.

And for a second I think, hey, maybe we should try that.

Word. I need to go to sleep.