Medicated Clementine spouts off

I'm totally cheating... it's two minutes before midnight and if I don't get this post ready... well, it may never get done. Okay, my fingers aren't working out so good, and it's already tomorrow. Heh. Now it's a "fer realz" post. Today is manicure/grocery/return crummy sweater day, and also Crank's only day off this week. Yes, people. Because the guv'ment thinks working their air traffic controllers to death is the best use of available resourses. But don't you worry. They aren't even allowed to blink too much, and safety is never compromised. The fact that they never get to rest their noggins after a hectic session and that they are working without a contract(allowing management to mess with 'em "free-for-all" style) so being on position for way longer than studies prove is safe is no cause for alarm. And his extra grouching? He's going into an early grave for his job... it'll all be over soon. Just turn your head and cough.

I found the perfect pig today. Not many of you know this about me, but in my pre-harlot-awareness days, I had a nickname. A perfect little nickname for my perfect little obsession with string. I was a yarn hog. Imagine my chagrin when I made the horrifying discovery that a Canadienne was trying to unseat me. Bloody clever strumpet. She's cute, though, and being from so far north, in the land of cold and drunken people, I forgave the intrusion of her "wool pig". I even got used to five people telling me I resembled the crazed knitter in her books. Bosh. I have way bigger feet (and thus a higher stitch count) than her. I've seen her in person, and could squash her like a bug... a cute, curly-haired mite of a knitter, though she could probably kick my "arse" in a lace knitting competition. Wool pig, indeed. This little piggy is taking back her title. Know why? 'Cuz I mortgaged my haus for yarn, or the love thereof. No book deal, no fancy-schmancy trips to chat about sheep and their finer attributes, no hoardes of screaming fans to throw praise, adulation, or big white panties at me. I'm in debt up to my perfectly waxed (later today) eyebrows, and I'm deciding, right here and now, to make as many new knitters as I possibly can. This piggy is getting ready to fly, y'all. That is how this whole thing began, after all. Better button up those britches and hang on to your hats, my pretties. If we have our way about things, this is going to be a busy year.

I'm off to bed now, since it's "I Love You Tuesday" and I haven't yet decided if the rest of Becher Haus (mostly meaning the Crank) is coming out with me, or if it's a two-car, tag team event. No matter. The day will fly by too quickly, the kids will never miss me, and knit night will be snowed over. Moving it to "odd Tuesdays" has been a huge success. We've had ice storms, high winds and sheeting rain, and for tomorrow, the promise of snow. I'm bringing meat and cheese, Emma's bringing chips and dip. We'll be fine as long as the water lines don't freeze. See you there, dollies. C