not quite 'tit's up'

Okay. I officially suck at this blogging thing. It seems I turn my back for uno momento and wham, another week has escaped. What the hell, huh? As it turns out, I do have an excuse... or a scape-goat, rather. Everyone, this is Kyle. Kyle, this is Everybody.
For those in the know, The Bresticles have had a trying couple of years. Six trying years, precisely. Six years of being reconstructed breast-bastards... six years of 'Frankenboobs'. Well, gentle readers, not anymore. I spent Tuesday night bare-chested in a somewhat clinical-looking chair while Kyle Hels tattooed my nipples back into existence. He was uber-professional about having a hausfrau in his chair, and seventy-five minutes passed by like nothing with fun, friendly bantering whilst he painted in the new 'details'. Under all that ink lurks the heart of a philosopher and healer, so if you've been considering a permanent addition, stop in and see him. You rocked the new nipples, Mr. Hels. Thank you.

I was quite well behaved, so those of you who were privy to the "grab an ink-artist in your thighs and squeeze him till you hurt" um, fantasy, need not worry. No tattoo dudes were injured in the making of my nipples. It wasn't even really painful until I got back home. Leave it to me to remember on the second Percocet that said drug winds me up just a tick. Two hours of barely unconscious rest was my punishment. The new nippies are doing great, however, and were graciously shared with all interested third parties today at the shop. The strangest thing is having to be aware of them at all. After six years of the silent treatment, having them rail for attention from inside my bra is a little disconcerting. (Apparently, those lil' chicas just like it rough. *snark*)

What's going on around here now? Book Two has made an appearance. I caught the author soaking in a foot bath at the nail salon and snagged my signed copy. I begged to help edit Book Three, and she accepted, so, if in fact I do get my hands on it, expect clearer sentence structure and zero typos.
This story moves along at a pretty good clip, and I didn't have to twitch too much over the weird punctuation. (Srsly, K. Book Three? Let me fix it.)

Gratuitous bloom shot for Miss Rob, who insisted I needed to put flowers on the blog. She takes a lot of medication, y'all. Don't judge.

I meant to at least get back around to lemon pound cake, but my ebullience over my new ta-ta accessories has me a kinda exhausted. C

just a tidbit

Yesterday turned out to be quite the day for interruptions, especially where the interwebs were concerned. Blogging from the haus has become a filthy nuisance, what with all the connection issues the air card has been experiencing. Blogging from Clementine's has been equally fraught with woes, but the alternative to 'interruptions' would be an alarming lack of patrons, so I'll gladly take the consequences.
I've been meaning to show y'all this, the 'Sun and Surf Halter', from Amy Butler, for a long while. Miss Gaylen made it as a shop sample for Clementine months ago. I was waiting until the weather was agreeable and the muses of creative displays made it possible to show it off to it's best advantage...

 

which, as you can plainly see, I was forced to give up on and just take some snaps of the thing. It's more charming on, and in person, and whilst it's gotten many oohs and ahhs in the shop, it isn't until people actually pick it up that the admiration for this simple summer top begins to build. Stunningly simple, and, according to some seasoned stitchers, not too much of a headache to build. You might just need one.

Today I am being visited by our dear Melly. She doesn't know it yet, but I'll be abandoning her to sneak off to a book signing for a wee bit. It would appear that the second book in the 'Sisterhood of Secrets' is now available. Even with lazy editing and a tragic lack of pronouns, there is no way I'd miss it! More later... C

hold that thought...

I'm not dead, just diverted. Blog-silence will officially be over tomorrow. Tonight is belly-dance class. Gotta get my jingles on...

and so, I leave you with a few words and phrases to consider until tomorrow. Ebullience. Tyranny. City parking. Sock knitting as anger-management. Polka dots. Lemon pound cake.
What does it all mean?
Careful. I might just tell you. Sleeping more than two hours a night again, so my brain and fingers may be able to make amends and allow a few stories loose for your perusal. Till Friday, then. C

socks and stuff

A new sock, in what's become an 'old standby' pattern: the 'mockery' sock. Gift yarn and needles courtesy of Miss G. (It's not further along, so my one-done-by-Easter plan is kaput.)

As promised, the custom colors have arrived. If you needed 'Air Kiss' or 'Smooches, Pooches', shoot me an e-mail at camillaknitsATgmailDOTcom and it will be on it's way to you super-quick. The samples are hanging in the shop... yes, one is still wearing it's needles, but the heel flap is underway. It's still fabulous.

More yummy yarn goodness. Most of you know I have a penchant for candy-colored anything, but the 126 colorway, aka 'Brachs' neopolitan' as we dub it, Is. In. The. Shop... Now. For how long, I cannot say. I only ordered the two bags. I guess I'm kinda bitchy that way, huh?

The latest additions to the line-up of Oliver + s patterns. All the gaps in stock have been filled, so if sewing clothes for tiny humans is on your to-do list, these are perfect.

Just yesterday I realized I hadn't done a proper job of being a prepared Easter Bunny, so I'm getting ready to remedy that this evening. Oh, to be sure, I medicated with Hershey's Kisses. One can't sugar-shop on an empty stomach! Have a restful rest of Good Friday, and a wonderful Easter/Passover week/insert pagan holiday of your choosing here. Spring is here and not to be denied. Oh, and The Fertility Goddess called. She wants you to eat a chocolate bunny. Now.

waiting to inhale

Another long blogging vacation. I couldn't locate the camera battery charger, but unable to blog anyway, what with the comment from the previous post sending me into repeated fits of giggles. Apparently someone hasn't a clue about my Lucifer reference, but those of you with triple digit I.Q.s got it, so it's all good. And I don't do 'thinly veiled' anything, so you can understand my lack of posting lately. Hard to type while holding my ribs, shaking with uncontrolled laughter.
Here's a smattering of the new Blank Quilting fabrics. Told you they were retro and kitschy-cute! There's more on the way... there seems to be no way around back-orders these days.

A little surprise in the birthday box from one of my imaginary friends. In light of me being a 'racist/bigot/homophobe', I shouldn't even show these to you, but the talented woman who made them for me is a dear, and these Mammies are so stinking cute. Won't they look fab hanging on the AGA... oh, wait... does that constitue a lynching? Oh dear...
While I'm on still on the soapbox, I think everyone has to stop using inflamatory words like mocha, chocolate, black, brown, mahogany... and I'm pretty sure Oreo cookies are off limits, too. Good God, leftists. Get a little Jesus. We're humans. All of us. The packaging doesn't matter. Content does. That's why the obamoron bothers me so. His skin tone has nothing to do with his ineptness. Geesh. Pardon my opinions...

alas and alak

The old adage 'if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all' seems to have me tongue-tied around here lately. It isn't that I don't have blog-fodder... I just can't say what's on my mind without risking the wrath of the Socialists. Seriously, though, every time the obamoron opens his damn mouth, the stock market takes a dive and people start to freak out. It seems to be occurring to some folks that they may have made a mistake when they voted for their Dark Prince. I've noticed lots of crappy little cars missing their 'obama' stickers around here. Sobering up's a bitch, huh? Welcome to reality. Glad you could make it.

Not to change the subject, but the store is crammed to the gills with new fabrics. Without the camera, I can't show them to you just yet, but they are retro, kitchy, and super-cute, without being too 'Leave it to Beaver'. Just some happiness. Who can't use some of that? Tomorrow we will have the big reveal of the new stuff, provided I manage to recharge the camera battery.

Melly has me reading a horrid, wretched, yet strangely beautiful book. I hate to even mention it here, as it has an 'Oprah's Book Club' sticker on it, and, as founder of the Overcoming Oprah recovery group, I feel like I'm committing a betrayal, but 'The Road' is proving to be an interesting read. Granted I'm only on page 97, and have been bitterly sad over the whole concept of the story, but, knowing it can't end well, I'm still curious enough to see how it plays out. Now I have to go 'play store'.

random bits of happy

The stash of Heather Bailey's fabrics has been added to... it doesn't fit all on one shelf anymore, and that's even with all the 'skinny' (nearly gone) bolts.

More newbies, and a couple of old timers hanging out together. Love the brown floral. Reminds me of old wallpaper.

Added to the Amy Butler stash... red 'Garden Maze' and ice 'Happy Dots'. It's scary how much better they look in person. I wish I had a fabric rep that made more frequent stops here. Seeing things 'fer realz' really helps!

The smattering of the 'Snow Flower' collection (Dana Designs by Free Spirit). I want a skirt with this giant floral on it, but I keep having flashbacks to Mrs. Roper's muu-muus. So, maybe a bag? A robe? The back of a quilt? Yep. That might have to be it. Gotta go now. It's movie-release day at midnight. Who needs sleep anyway?

Hit 'play' and go on

I used to be a blogger. Sort of. Kinda. Maybe. This week has been a weird, tough row to hoe, and I wasn't even the one behind the plow, but that didn't stop me from getting pulled along for some of the ride. As Melly 'splained to y'all, my mixed-up, crazy Gran died Tuesday night. It's sad to have her gone, but also a huge release from all the anger, hurt, and frustration her Alzheimer's was causing the family. She is free of her corporal body and it's disease. Where that leaves her daughters is still anybody's guess. No excuses here. She was a tough old bird who did stuff to confound the people who tried like crazy to love her, but I choose to remember the woman who always had time to make my cousin Ryan's favorite peanut butter candies, always shared her secret stash of 'Fiddle-Faddle' while we watched her 'stories', and always let me squish the Lipton's teabag after I was done drowning the Lorna Doones in my teacup. Life is complicated enough without needing anger management classes for your next of kin postmortem. Keep the happy. The rest is not for us mere mortals to deal with.



As someone who likes to keep her head down when trouble is afoot, I've buried (no pun intended, I assure you) myself in distractions this week. What follows is a partial list of where my head's been since Saturday night. Reading like a fiend has always been my refuge. 'Evermore' (loved it), 'Betwixt' (ugh. don't bother.), the entire 'House of Night' series (yes, I am an addict, but there's only the five books so far), and, in case you think I never venture out of the teen vamp novels, there was a borrowed copy of this, that was so good I plunked my dollars down for my own copy immediately after staying up till nearly 4 a.m. to finish it in one sitting. Yes, my bum was sore. Yes, it was worth it. No, it isn't for the faint of heart. Yes, I will be embarrassed if caught reading it again. No, that won't stop me.

After catching a flick with some trouble-making pals Sunday afternoon, I also may have accidentally ended up with this in my possession. Trust me, I'm appalled at myself. I'm blaming my advanced age and apparent lack of common sense. Or those bizarre mid-life hormones. Dunno. After nearly fainting at the cash register to purchase said book (I actually lost the power of speech. Me.), I just thought I'd let you all in on the joke. Pretty sure Melly thought I wouldn't 'fess up to the reading materials what have been in my hands this week. Pretty sure I'm gonna wish I'd just deleted this post later, too, but what the heck. She's already outed me on the Canadian Club for Thursday's lunch.



Thursday morning brought all sorts of things to Clementine's, besides the slightly buzzed shop-keep. New fabrics arrived, new knitters were met, and the toilet explosions happening over at the local cafe were avoided by us, though the coffee-chicas had to endure a knit-pit full of knitters as they beat a path over to use our non-burping facilities. Poor lil' friend Susan. Her toilet burped twice. Ugh. Photos of sock yarns and fabric tomorrow. I'm swearin' off the sauce. Keeping it close for 'medicinal purposes', though. C

designated blogger

because friends don't let friends blog drunk. yes, drunk. at 11:30 this morning.

seems clementine opened shop for cami today. girl was due a break. cami's grandmother died last night, so there was a wee bit o' celebrating grandma's life at clementines today. hope none of the patrons were scared off permanently. in lieu of flowers, please send whisky.

it is always sad when those we love are no longer with us, but it was time for grandma to go. she's in a better place to be sure. grab hold of that, cami and find you some peace.

melly here, commandeering camillaknits again for HRH (her royal highness) to share some shop shenanigans. clementine's was a fun place today!

noemi and i are doing a little knit-along on the modern quilt wrap. it is a gorgeous piece, knit with rowan kidsilk haze - what we like to call knitter's crack. call clementine and get you some!

here's no-blog robin trying to weave amongst all the giggling madness:

and here i am sporting a sock cami knit with a heel gaylen convinced her to try. cami's not a fan, but i think i like it! especially for self-striping yarns. always something new to try with knitting. gotta love that!

that's about all i got for this here blog. cami is too busy reading to blog lately. she may need an intervention. why don't you ask her what she's been reading. go ahead. ask her. you just can't even imagine.

carry on crafty ones!

Not never, not no how

Things at the top of my "don't even think about it" list for the coming year:

1.) Uninstall Adobe flash player, on Friday the 13th of anytime, especially while trying to process a credit card sale. Don't even ask. The fact that I still have fingers to type with after wildly scrambling to find the Quickbooks point-of-sale program in the under-counter squirrel's nest of a rat-hole that I call 'storage' at the shop would amaze you. I'm stunned to find the computer still in working order (I think), that I didn't scare the customer (I think), and that the list of silent expletives I rattled off in my head was so consise. I accidently forgot to open the drive before shutting the whole, god-forsaken mess off so the disc is still sitting in the computer, but tomorrow is another day.

2.) Forget to lock the door when the shop closes. You never know when one of those 'kill me now' projects will come waltzing in two minutes after closing. Also, until someone prints and distributes the self-help pamphlet entitled 'no, you cannot match cheaply made, mass-produced, licensed character bedding with anything other than cheaply made, mass-produced, low-grade Chinese fabric, so pick another project, please', be sure to have a fifth of Canadian Club with you, should you need to browse the offerings at Clem's. I am always amiable, willing to offer assistance, and have the patience of a martryed saint, but some sort of numbing agent is required if I've already survived #1.

3.) Debate for an entire day if having the shop open on the day the city decides to 'power flush and vacuum' the sewer system is really a good idea. Obviously, if you have to saran-wrap the toilet closed and run water down all the p and j traps, this could be a smelly, disasterous day. Also, wavering as to whether being open on go-kart day is equally dumb. If part of the 'track' is the city street in front of your store-front, and all the parking in town will be taken up with trucks, trailers, and greasy-food vendors, the answer is a resounding no. Knitters and 'sewists' are not shoping with abandon whilst still being supportive go-karting enthusiasts. Perhaps on a different day. Plan on no Clementine for August 1st. I will have my fingers tightly wrapped around the bottle in #2. And probably rocking myself in a corner, chewing my hair.

In other news, yes, the birthday fairy did magic up a flatscreen for me, no, the psychic reading was not the evening of 'fun for all' we thought it would be, and perhaps, when you're so desparate for new reading material that the 'heartwarming, inspirational romance' novel that comes free in the mail and begins with a forlorn cow on page one... and you read the whole thing anyway... it's time to head to the damn bookstore already. Luckily, the B&N gift cards came today, so book shopping commences tomorrow after work. Promptly at five. C

Thirty-nine, take one

Birthday week isn't officially over, but today was the 'run around like mad and endure the BMV for a spanking new driver's license' day, which culminated in the melting down of the three-year old's tolerance for all things birthday-ish. We did, however, make it through dinner out before he decided to become the turd in the punchbowl. I refilled the Xanax prescription, though, so no harm will come to him this day.

This morning I spent some time pondering the tiny webs of lines under and around my eyes. I don't look any worse than yesterday, but I know the day of reckoning is waiting for me. The day I look in the mirror and don't even know the old woman staring back at me. I should probably keep wearing her jewelry, though, just in case. Alzheimer's runs in the family now, so a few, constant visual clues would probably be a good idea. Medication helps, too. I didn't flip out over Herr Becher's side trip to file paperwork at a bank (en-route to my birthday dinner!), or the giant armadillo that patted me on the head whilst we were eating our steaks. So calm was I, that I refrained from wrenching the poor thing's head off. And Melly thinks I shouldn't be armed. I believe there's a betting pool in place already as to how soon I'm going to need bail money...

Now I'm off to get rested up for work tomorrow. My tiara wants polishing and I have a sock to finish.

Surprise

I'm not the easiest person in the world to surprise, so you can imagine my shock when Herr Becher came home from work today with this... a slightly premature birthday cake. Adding to my stunned reaction was when the big unveiling revealed this...

All hail Kim Tosino!
She's the driving force behind the annual Halloween bashes (forcing my hand- and my head- into those crazy witch hats last October!), and, when she's not off being a super-nurse, she bakes like a fiend. This behemoth was layered with chocolate mousse, covered in ganache and chocolate shavings, and contained three layers of the densest, moistest chocolate cake. Evah.

Is there even a point to getting on the scale tomorrow at Weight Watchers?

The mister had decided to order this cake right after Ron, Kim's husband and fellow air-traffic controller, brought it to the Thanksgiving pitch-in. She had full creative control over the theme, and due to my rabid love of the 'Twilight' series, she found a way to let me bite The Edward, since it can't happen the other way 'round. *chocolate sigh*

You go be crafty. I'm riding a sugar high. Thanks, Kim!

They keep dribbling in...

The Fed Ex man just dropped off a box of back ordered yarn. It would appear the 'Lanaloft' finally decided to make an appearance. Here's 'twilight' (that's it's given name, but, yeah, I might have been swayed a little...)

and 'coral reef'. Pretty painted yarns. Not sure with whom they will end up. Miss Lori has a penchant for shrinking her knitting. I may have to get some of this into her hot little hands for her next fulled wool bag.

And, on another note, it's starting again. This is a partially completed 'beach glass' Modern Quilt Wrap kit awaiting it's final three mates. Nestled into a bed of tissue paper, totally tempting the unsuspecting knitter, I expect this to be the colorway of the summer. Only four of them will have the cocoa brown in them, and two will have blackberry. The rest will be blues-y/greensy/pearly. All fabulous. Just not cookie-cutter. We do try to mix it up a little around here.

Another quiet day at the shop. I'm going to go finish knitting the toe of strong-heeled sock, the first. It's not Trekking 181, but 150. I spent a bit of time on the website sourcing yarn and made the discovery of my error. At any rate, the second sock will not be so painful, as I have a plot to revise the heel-turn decreases. Having printed instructions might have been helpful, but staring at the computer screen and improvising didn't kill me. Yet.

R.I.P.

One of the main servants here at Becher Haus died the other day. My dear old dishwasher began putting up such a fuss (okay, more of a pissing and moaning contest) about the two (or three) loads a day that it was required to wash that, in order to survive the days here, I went out to Sears today and ordered up a new one. Saturday the new Bosch arrives, and the carcass of the old one will be hauled out... for a ten dollar fee. Seriously, they act like that's going to deter you from making them make it go away. I suppose there are tightwads who would rather pinch the ten bucks and spend half that on the gas to drive out into the backwoods to throw it in a ditch, but seriously, ten bucks? It made me giggle a little. It took me by surprise, though, that the saleswoman remembered us from the washer/dryer purchase back in the fall, but I guess there are worse things to be memorable for.

Today was a 'girl's day out' from Becher Haus, because the boys were all still sickly, and still more because the three-year-old has become a most vocal spawn of Satan in his misery. I just needed peace (relative), quiet (again, relative), and the open road, with some 'All-American Rejects' in the cd player. No-Amy burned me a disc, which I have loved from the word go, so I picked up the "enhanced" version and their previous disc, seeing as how I was braving Best Buy anyway. I mean, once you've managed to find a parking spot, what the hell. I should've gotten a flatscreen while I was at it, but I'm still hoping the birthday fairy will remember. He has a few extra days off between now and my birthday... I might have to start leaving post-its everywhere.

Things are relatively calm here at present, so I'm going to sneak off to read/knit/nap, as the mood strikes me. Tomorrow I have a paperwork snarl to sort through, so that I don't make Deb cry as she helps me wade through getting it all together for the tax guy. Type at y'all latah, knittas. C