This morning, before the alarm went off, Dinky woke up from a very strange dream. Lots of sleep has lead to lots of bizzare dreams.  She has been sleeping a lot lately, which is unusual for her. Dinky shook her head to clear away the dream, and looked at the clock. It’s 5:15, and of course, Dinky woke up at 5:15 on the day when she didn’t have to wake up until 6:15. Dinky sighed, as this was typical.

Her feet hit the floor, and she shuffled across the bedroom through the unfolded laundry. She was careful to open the door quietly, as to not wake up That Guy She Married.

As she pulled the door open, she heard three magnetic snaps as the dogdoor flapped shut, open, shut. Dinky was greeted with a wagging tale and an ankle bath. Dinky bent down to pet the dog only twice, as it was dark, and the excited dog was dancing around outside the reach of the light shining from the CPU. Wanting more attention, That Darn Dog barked three times, and three times Dinky told That Darn Dog to be quiet. It was not yet dawn and the dog was already bothering the neighbors. Dinky sighed, as this was also typical.

That Darn Dog followed Dinky into the bathroom, and settled on the bathmat, just like every morning. Dinky showered with her usual ritual. Face soap, body soap, girl-part soap, and foot soap. Seperate bottles of soap for seperate parts of the body. Never bar soap, and never never soaping a part of her body with soap that was not made for that part of her body. “You don’t wash your dishes with face soap, and you don’t wash your face with dish soap,” she recited to herself.

The shower water was hot, cold, hot. Dinky could hear the neighbor upstairs drawing water for his shower. Dinky had given up fighting for hot water months ago, and turned the faucet off. She reached around for her green towel and dripped some water on the dog for sport. The dog gave Dinky a sidelong glance and continued with her nap on the mat.

While standing inside the shower, Dinky dried off, wrang the water out of her hair, and then stepped around the dog onto the last remaining corner of the mat. Standing on one foot, as to not disturb the dog, Dinky dried off her other foot and then the rest of her body.

The same pair of slacks as she wore last Monday, waited with the same sweater she wears when there’s a chance of rain. From her handmade jewlery rack, she pulled the same necklace she always wears with the rainy-day sweater. Her only pink necklace with her only pink sweater. Should she wear, say, a blue necklace today? But then when else would she wear the pink one?

Dinky sat down to check her RSS feed, and read the blogs she’s used to reading.
Dinky had gotten tired of typical. So tired, infact, that she had allowed her daily blogging habbit to lapse. She had started to worry that she was too boring, too dull to have anything to say on her blog. On a lark, she stumbled upon Bossy, and this nonsense of the third person.

“What the heck,” she thought. It might release some writer’s block.

I’ve been bit with the crochet bug. I can’t sit still. At all. Until you drop a hook in my lap. Then I can sit still indefinatley. If I could figure out how to crochet while laying down, I would.

I’ve been working on an infant dress in Neopolotan sock weight Bernat Cool Crochet yarn. Pink camo sounds silly on an infant dress, but it’s coming along quite nicely. I’ve pulled out and restarted sections of the dress two and three times, but you can not convince me to practice on granny squares. I have two degrees from the Learn by Doing University, where we weren’t taught how to do something the right way; we were told to go do something, and if we were wrong, the work would be returned for us to try again. It’s a pain, but it works.

My fifth grade report card came back “doesn’t finish what she started.” A coworker has been evacuated from her home in one of the canyons that is on fire. She hasn’t heard if she’s lost her house yet or not. I’ve put down the layette to start on a housewarming (or cooling) blanket for her. I’ll finish what I started later. Again, I’m learning by experimenting with the chunky yarn as I go along.

Last night, I finally got the hang of the new pattern and the chunky yarn. I put it down just before bed. This morning when I got out of the shower, That Darn Dog grabbed the ball of yarn and took it out in the back yard to chew on. She was dragging my four-inch long blanket behind her. While I was running after her wearing nothing but a bath towel. She dropped the ball of yarn in a pile of poo. The blanket edge didn’t make it through the dog door, but it picked up more dog hair than any Swiffer product.

Homespun Yarn on a Stick, new from Swiffer. I should call Procter & Gamble.

The blanket was a wash. I started over. Hopefully I’ll get it done this weekend.

Joann’s had a sucker sale. I went down the isle to get big fat crochet hook, and saw a THIRTY PERCENT OFF sign. I got a hook, and those expensive marker doodads. I went down the isle to get one afgan pattern, and saw a FOURTY PERCENT OFF sign. I bought two pattern booklets. Yarn was TWO FOR EIGHT DOLLARS. I bought two extra skeins (good thing, I guess, since That Darn Dog got a hold of one). Can you see where this is going? FIFTY dollars later, thirty percent off? Ha!

Phony Photo Booth

This is the funniest Candid Camera I’ve seen in a long time.

Ok, so I’ve been trying to figure out how to resurect this blog.

Then I saw this. It’s some kind of blog-karma sign.

 

If this doesn’t do it, nothing will! Time to bust out “Noone Cares What You Had for Lunch.”

 

Huh, I guess I should delurk and come out and post on my own blog. Hmph. Can we say “Time For NaBloPoMo Again?”

Somebody send me a writing prompt! That would make a marvelous comment!