and now feel a little queasy. I'll likely not learn my lesson, though, and will repeat the aforementioned activity again the very soonest chance I get. I'm quite addicted to the fare at 'Margarita's Grill'; perhaps I shall make it a weekly pilgrimage.
I've sent an e-mail across the pond, to the purveyor of all that is stylish in shabby-chic, that phenom of a decorating goddess, Cath Kidston. Like as not, there will be an unhappy ending, with tears, and wailing, and gnashing of teeth, but if it should turn out well, I would be one of the very few U.S. sellers of her wares, including the 'fabrics by the metre'. I'm going to take the shop's offerings in that general direction for the fall and into spring. Robin's egg blue, cabbage roses lifted from 1940's wallpapers, pin-dot polka dots, faded reds and creams and pistachio green... a bit of retro-chic. Hell, even is I don't get an account with Miss Cath, think of the fun I'll have building my own little reserve of fiber/fabric fun.
This was also the day I went hunting. In the bookstore. For Elizabeth Zimmerman and Kaffe Fassett. Naught was found on two of my favorites, so it led me to shore up my first order with 'that book distributor', the one who shall remain nameless because, well, they have a truly stupid name and I feel sick every time I look at their application. So, I'll fax that in tomorrow, and have more fabulous books titles enroute to the shop. And I found more titles by Anna Zilbourg. "Knitting for Anarchists" was the find of the day, along with "Magnificent Mittens" and the crazy (and utterly fantastic) "Socks for Sandals and Clogs". I hate searching things via the web, but nameless distributor had a lot I didn't even hope to find. So, I'm now feeling terribly smug and satisfied, and full of delicious tacos.
Just discovered the cat hates whistles. This shouldn't be a shock, after all, what cat does like noises like that? What is unusual is the venom in the looks said cat is throwing in small boy's direction. She'll probably try to smother him in his sleep, or pee in his shoe, or something. In addition to flinging herself at his legs and trying to bite him. But that was a given the minute he started up.
Off to finish laundry. Oh, the glamour of a 'day off'... gah. Cami