I mean, think of all those new mothers planning their Neanderthal layettes!
I think thirteen changes in climate in under a week has taken a pretty big chink out of my immunity armor... the inside of my head is green and liquifying and every time I sniff someone snaps a giant rubber band around my brain. For the past couple of nights both Randy and I have lied awake wishing my face would quit making so much noise. The first night I took some Nyquil and made a lot of noise. The second night I took some Nyquil and some wine and made a lot of noise. Last night I took some Nyquil, some wine, and some vicodin and slept like the proverbial dead. Vicodin, baby: I may not be getting any better, but hey-- who gives a shit.
Because my laptop is still on basic life support, flitting ever closer to that Windows Blue Safety Screen in the sky, I've been spending my evening TV-slash-internet time working on embroidering pillowcases. Randy's charity group has a huge Craft Auction at
this annual event, and there's always all this heavy pressure to show up at the ten or so preparatory "craft nights" and make hot glue candles or flower baskets or pudding or whatever and I always just end up deleting the eighty-four reminder emails so I don't have to go; if I can delete them fast enough it's like I never even got them! No, it's true. Try it. Blatant avoidance is the new subtle avoidance for 2007.
So this year I've decided that I'll embroider a couple of pillowcases and donate them to the Hot Glue Craft Pudding Fiesta in lieu of actually attending any of the meetings. Upon seeing the pillowcases in question Randy wondered allowed if it wouldn't be a better idea if I just kept not attending like I have for the past six years
and watched some hands-free TV. And if that seems like a somewhat discouraging response, I direct you yet again to
Blanket Cam. Randy simply acknowledges what I continue to deny-- that when it comes to crafts, I have a total and inalienable lack of taste and/or prudence. And/or talent. Proof:
1) The embroidery pattern now contains within its trembling lines no less than twenty-three colors.
2) Randy couldn't tell what the pattern depicted, exactly. When I explained that it was a picture of several primordial birds eating and digesting their own legs, he refused to believe me.
I have no doubt that this is going to be fabulous. And each time I jam the needle in my nailbed or have to bite a knot out of my plum thread, I just remind myself of how awesome it's going to be to watch these bad boys sell to the highest bidder. Pictures to follow. I want to get more of the EYES AND BEAKS done before I document the majesty.
Jesus, I hope my laptop is fixable.
I'm pretty sure my brain is swelling.
And not in the normal way.
