badrabbyt

so, yeah. i meant to have a few pictures of what i've been knitting lately, but it flat didn't happen. there's bad mojo at the rabbyt hutch, and i'm worried it will creep into the more natural fibers i've been working with. moi's - ahem - thanksgiving present is nearing completion (god help me, i have to sew now). YMCrae asked for a pair of gloves. z's mom, who will now be known as zima (get it?), received sockument, as well as a pair of fingerless mitts. i offered the capt a scarf. i mean, didn't i just say i don't usually make stuff for other people? and yet, there it is. to be fair, y'all - none of these projects were really demands. i offered. and none really required new yarn purchases. aside from the small amount of yarn purchased on sale in october or something, i've bought not a fiber. the gloves? i have this ultra-swank yarn that i'm dying to work with, and i think it's the just-right color. the scarf? um, there's something in the bottom of the basket that i think is manly enough for capt clydesdale. besides, a scarf has more utility that a wang warmer, guys. just saying.

as usual, a digression:

utility - i used to hate that word. my truly evil ex-boyfriend, the savage, used that word in reference to his truck. we lived in san francisco, and he had this generic-looking nissan truck. white, with this weird graphic thingy in the side. man, i see those trucks around town here, and i start to panic. anyway, he would always say how his truck was versatile, and that he could carry loads of stuff somewhere. you know, if he needed to. only he never did need to; even when we moved from san francisco to seattle, the moving truck held everything, and i drove his nissan. my car was on a trailer attached to the moving truck. 'utility' was his big word. and it pisses me off. i don't hate it anymore, but i do have a mild dislike for it. moving on...

no, wait. another u-turn. i think i was saying a few days ago that knitting is just one of those things. i got caught knitting at a dentist's office, waiting for z dog to be done with his checkup. there was this, um... not elderly lady per se, but nearing that age bracket. anyway, she watched me whip a scarf out of the ball in my purse (ask the capt and YMCrae; i do actually carry yarn in my purse), then finally asked if i was knitting for my husband. oh no, i said. i'm just really fidgety, and knitting is easier to do in a waiting room than read a book. she said she hoped that whoever was lucky enough to wear the scarf was appreciative.

see, everyone on this planet has some kind of outlet; and if you don't, you a nothing but a husk of a person. we paint, we sing, we play guitar. we work on cars or build websites. maybe we sew, or bake. but we all have some kind of creative outlet that we channel a lot of energy into. some folks are lucky; their creative outlet is entertainment for the rest of us, so they can have their art fix in public. and they know people appreciate it, because they show up. they say, wow, great painting, excellent song, nice dancing. whatever. no one wants to watch me knit. it's not a spectator sport. and seldom does anyone come by my work and say, wow, nice heel! way to make a brim! work that cuff, girl! i do it because it makes me happy. i have nervous energy, and knitting sucks some of that up. it gives me something to do while watching a movie, or talking with friends. and at the end of it, i have a physical thing that reminds me of that movie, or that converdation. making a scarf for someone is an act of love, or at the very least, admiration. not that store-bought gifts aren't nice (i can't knit my favorite perfume, or the latest gym class heroes cd), but the handmade represents more. someone thinks you're worth that kind of time and effort. and it is effort.

so, not utility. maybe a scarf has more ability to do something for you? plus, i've noticed that chicks kinda dig a guy that can rock a knitted object. i made the ex-mister a hat with red devil horns sticking out of it, and the ladies thought he was the bees' knees. the menfolk thought he was equally cool. a bartender paid me 30 bucks to make her one of her own, which was not as cool as the original. i know i'd love the crush even more if he wore something i made. but anyway... i know the way to a man's heart is through his feet. cecil has pointed this out - apparently, dudes dig the handmade socks. i don't know a single guy that owns a pair, so i'm not sure how reliable all this is. but when i give a man a foot rub? they're reduced to protoplasm.

i have this great sock yarn i picked up in bellingham. wool makes my feet itchy, so i found yarn that was a wool/ silk blend. it's a very rich brown - think baker's milk chocolate. i made one sock from this yarn and slapped it on my foot. cecil watched me walk around in it, look at certain 'trouble' spots (where i screwed up the pattern in some way or other), and make notes for sock 2. my left foot is smaller than my right foot, so i have to take that into account. anyway, i leave the sock on and move on to another activity. cecil is still looking at the sock. finally, he says my sock kung-fu is rocking, and if i could maybe work on his socks? i started a pair for his chriatmas present, but they're nowhere near completion. the yarn is this self-striping stuff, and i love watching the yarn do all the hard work. i just make the loops. i told him he'd have to be my friend forever, and he would alwaya have to tell me i was smart and beautiful. he agreed. the power of the handmade, people. the power of socks.

beware the woman with a buttload of sock yarn. i only have two skeins, and they're both sorta spoken for, so we're all safe. thanks for stopping by.

in my perfect world, the secret crush would be a closet fan of old radio shows. he'll pop over here in a few days, notice that i've gone completely freakish about the sets i received for christmas, and he'll realize that he simply must have a sleepover at my house. complete with pajamas, because i'm not really that kind of girl anymore.

the kind that puts out at the first sleepover party, that is. i'm still quite enthusiastic about giving head. to the right guy, who has used soap recently, and has something intelligent to say. and is not gay.

ummm... huh. so anyway, i've been annoying people within earshot with the most fabulous present my dad santa gave me. now really... why would santa UPS presents to me, from my parents' address, before christmas? and why would they be wrapped and in a grocery bag? i just find it all suspicious (before i get emails about this, i know santa only exists in the mind and heart). see, i really love old radio shows. i'm fanatically addicted to them. my favorite show is suspense. by the way, you can find a stream of old radio shows here. sometimes it's hard to locate, and it's not always one genre. but, if you've taken up knitting, or you're doing something that only requires half of your brain, i suggest you listen to them.

my dad is responsible for this hitch in my psyche. when i was about 16ish, i came down with this really aggressive stomach flu. i spent three days not being able to keep anything down, including water. life, in general, sucked. being taken to the doctor and given a shot in the ass by the hottest guy at the clinic was no joyride, neither. but that was later. i was laying on the couch, trying to concentrate on the tv news. since i was so very weak, it was difficult to remain conscious enough to follow world events. it was a level of consciousness or reality akin to drinking too much. that 15 minutes right before you (or the ex-mister, whom i'm thinking of here) pass out at sewickly's, right on the bar? it was like that, but for three days. i've also discovered the same weirdness if one uses nyquil that has expired. i don't recommend doing that while reading alice in wonderland. which could explain the rabbyt thing.

but, again, i digress.

radio shows. my dad had gotten this sampler tape from somewhere when he ordered some collection of frank sinatra. it had these three episodes of the suspense radio show - on a country road, three skeleton key, and zero hour. it's funny that i still remember the order of the shows on the tape and who the star was in each (cary grant, vincent price, and evelyn rudy, respectively). anyway, he put the tape on, turned all the lights down in our living room - i think my mom was in the kitchen or something - and pressed play. man, they weren't terrifically frightening or anything, but they were fabulous to listen to, and i could follow them in my altered state. it didn't matter if i dozed off, because my brain was still engaged. and my imagination is, um, active (go ahead - ask me about alice in wonderland on expired nyquil), so i had no problem imagining these radio shows in my head. i loved them. a few years later, i found the suspense radio shows on cassettes. of course i bought them, and of course they're in a box in the garage. i had asked my dad to locate some of the suspense shows on cd, so i could listen to them at work.

so, santa sent me two sets. one was of just the suspense show, and the other was a sampler of a bunch of different programs. the sampler includes the classic war of the worlds. check out that link, seriously. i realize, at this time in history, most of you associate a performance of this story with that weird little man, tom cruise. and not a good kind of weird. but this was... a prank, really. orson welles kind of took over a radio station the night before halloween, and did these false news radio reports about the martians landing and there being a war. apparently, people really freaked out over this. i'm in love with orson welles, y'all.

one of the many great things about these radio shows are the stars. some are names you'll totally recognize - lucille ball, vincent price (he was also in the saint; don't confuse that show with the movie), ronald reagan. yes, the former president. some of them are straight-up corny. and some of them (like zero hour, an adaptation of a short story by ray bradbury) may freak you the fuck out. those guys in the '30s and '40s knew how to tell a story.

and i'll stop there. thanks for playing. and val - what's up with the shoes?

so... i hope you had a merry insert-holiday-here. christmas in general makes me grumpy. the cliff notes version is this - originally, it was a pagan and christian holiday merged into one, to keep the public into worshipping jesus. now, it'a all about commerce. i just wish more people were thankful for what they have, rather than lament what wasn't under the tree. perhaps this became more prevalent this year, because z's kids are truly spoiled. i did not hear a single "thank you" from either.

however, in setting the universe right, things have gone batshit crazy at my parents' homestead. my dad tells me pictures are on the way, but... well. my dad got an ipod, which i am against in general terms. it's a waste of computer chip, but it's perfect for him, because his job requires he travel a lot. my mom, also because my dad travels a lot, received a shotgun.

yes, my loopy-ass mother now owns a guns and bullets. and a bong, but that's been there awhile.

but, here's my christmas story, as told by a pair of cell phones.

moi says: why do i need this?

i say: i see nothing wrong here.

be excellent to each other. and thanks for stopping by. and double thanks for leaving a comment!

james brown died this morning. the world is a less funky place without him.

originally, i had this post in my head, where i talk about how really good friendships are like a rubik's cube. but, i've had a wildly entertaining day, and i have quite a few pictures to share. weirdly enough, even though i promised knitting pictures, and am filing this under knitting, i don't think there's any actual knitting.

ahem.

first, you may recall i've been doing battle with some particularly hateful raspberry, synthetic mohair, yarn. the ungrateful lady at work has been on my ass about this fiber travesty. the behemoth is finally complete, and i refuse to take pictures. cecil, who i have agreed to not photograph for blog purposes, even offered to wear the damn thing. the top is based loosely on the bevin tank i made, except mine is sparkly blue and close fitting. she wanted a bigger, baggier version. now, we are not the same size. i do try to be delicate about people's body shapes, largely because i'm sensitive about mine. and if i'm sensitive about being referred to as 'big' (which, it has been pointed out to me this week, i'm not anymore), then people who are truly plus-sized are probably more so.

so, if you're curious, the raspberry bevin turned out okay. just click that other link up there, and imagine it pinkish, less shapely, and a few sizes bigger. i feel obligated to add - the pattern only comes in one size. i did have to re-write it just to make this woman happy. it's currently drying in the garage. my goal was to finish it by christmas - not as a present for this woman, but as another gift to me. get rid of this project, this yarn, so i can work on prettier, sexier things for people i actually like.

i think i may have been experiencing a low blood sugar moment, because... well, i did something no knitter in her right mind would probably do. i advise you yarn ho's out there (and i use that phrase as one of your kind, my dears) with weak stomachs, to turn back now.

this was what was left over from the project-from-hell:

the cat was not thrilled with it being so close to her. i had thought about making her a little kitty blanket out of the remains. but when she growled at the little muffin-sized ball, i rethought my plan. i was also hoping for some kind of scale here, so you have an idea how big the ball was. but my cat is rather deceptive with her bulk.

another shot. really, it doesn't look bad. but the fibers stick to my hands and to each other. it's a very sticky, not-very-soft-despite-all-the-fluff, deceptive yarn. mr sparkles said the longer you hold it, the less soft it feels. and it smells odd.

you will notice it is now outside, on cement. i was so very happy to be done, and i did not want to touch the yarn again - which, really, is quite a stunning statement - that my brain decided it would be interesting to, well...

set it on fire. yeah. i wasn't sure it would burn. i was kind of hoping it would melt, actually. then i would have this really weird little sculpture i could tell people that i made myself. i should point out that i did not douse this crap in lighter fluid or anything like that. all i really did was spark a lighter at the ends; it wasn't even exposed to the direct flame. i mean, people that smoke wear this particular fiber, i'm sure. this is truly a fire hazard. i'm glad i didn't make a baby blanket.

it really lit up, too. i might have been hooting and hollering with glee at this point. the smell was ungodly. it actually looks a bit like insulation. this particualr picture was taken during a mild downpour. so this is not the type of fiber that is easliy extinguished. and honestly? this felt good. i feel much better than i would had i thrown it away (gasp!) or donated it to someone.

the charred remains. not how i expected it to feel. the black parts were kinda, um, floofy (yeah, it's not a word. but it describes the ashy bits pretty well), and there were still large amounts of yarn unmolested. and it still retained its shape pretty well. after i went inside and dragged the behemoth from its water soak to dry in the garage, i opened one present from moi. then i took another picture of the char-yarn.

you know someone is your equally-evil twin when she sends you cookies and a travel gnome (complete with passport and suitcase). his name is cedric. the lump's name is ass. you can still see that pinkish hue through the char. i plan on flipping it over and setting fire to it again on monday. because nothing says happy holidays like burnt crap.

the lesson alluded to in this post's title? synthetic fibers are unsafe. especially if you give them to me.

in case you're curious:

cedric is not tall. and he's a bit of pyro. moving on (i said i had a lot of pictures)...

i asked my mom for some old radio shows on cd. this is what she sent me. does anyone else think i got a garbage can for christmas? maybe it's a fire bucket!

i went out to dinner with capt clydesdale, YMCrae and z on friday. while that was meant to be part of my rubik's cube post, i have this funny little story. i told the capt that he was required to use soap before i would dine with him. because i'm a big ole bitch, that's why. anyway, he sent me a text saying he was showering. simultaneously, this happened:

that is my cat, licking who-the-hell-wants-to-think-about-it. when i sent this to the capt, i think i said something about being clean, or using soap. i don't recall. but i'm pretty sure i scarred his psyche. although, he did say - 'if i could do that, i'd never leave the house!' and neither would george carlin.

i did promise a slightly better shot of the new hair-hack. i've also added some temporary black dye. because now that i know what my real hair color is, i'm bored with it.

i have more, but i've done enough damage. thanks for stopping by. happy holiday and boxing day.

so, there are holidays that people are celebrating. and i wish you a happy whichever one you celebrate. i'll have pictures of knitting on christmas, since that's the one i'm working with.

in general, i've been doing a whole lot of not much. i've been knitting with the most hateful yarn (synthetic mohair - suck it), and my goal is to get that bitch done by actual christmas. the ungrateful lady that gave me this crap has been sort of patiently waiting for this raspberry load o' fake since sometime this summer. and since there's a lot of stuff i want to make for myself and people i really like, i've decided that this is the top priority.

do i have pictures? no. they're on the digital dinosaur, and since we don't officially have the interweb at our house just yet, they're going nowhere.

hmmm... oh! i made, and this is kinda funny, peanut butter balls. dipped in chocolate. anyone seen that episode of south park, where chef has the chocolate salty balls? it was kinda like that, but not salty. they are sooooo good, and they look like turds or actual testicles. which kind of takes away from people wanting to eat them, but whatever. i made them for a potluck-type thing at work. i had to keep sticking them in the freezer (the room with all the food was quite warm) because my balls went a little soft in the warmth. yeah, it's really just an excuse to make ball jokes. sorry if you came by looking for a discussion on physics. that's next week.

i think i mentioned that there's this great organization called doctors without borders, and they try to provide medical services for people in not-so-well-off countries. i'm sending them money, and if you can afford it, maybe you could too. i bring that up because cecil pointed out that i didn't talk about my other good deed for the season. since my good deed took over a chunk of his living room, i should probably mention it.

i mentioned to a few people that we should buy a bunch of blankets from the local thrift stores, and give them to the homeless shelters downtown. there seem to be a lot of knitted and crocheted afgans at any given thrift shop, and it really makes me sad. afgans are quite a lot of work - it takes me about a month to crochet one that will cover a full-size bed - and they represent a hefty amount of time and affection. i'm not sure that most people really grasp the amount of work these hobbies are. now, i don't generally offer to make people stuff, and yet i'm always knitting or something. when i do give something to someone, and it happens to be made with my own little hands, i hope that they appreciate the idea behind it - i took all this time, that i will never get back, to make this for you, because i love you. some people get it, and some people don't. the slightly ungrateful woman at my work, future owner of the hateful synthetic top-of-crap? she makes stuff herself, so i originally thought she would appreciate all the work that goes into such things. i was wrong there. and i'm digressing...

blankets at thrift stores. myself, cecil, z and a few other people thought my idea was quite good. we each took some money to a different store, and bought all the handmade blankets we could afford/ find. after washing, it became clear that the rabbyt hutch was not the place to store them. cecil offered a corner of his living room. the pile grew so big, there was talk of just running and jumping into it like a snowbank. finally, cecil had had enough (it really is difficult to be my friend), and i helped him load all the blankets in a van. i'm pretty sure the shelter we went to (it's just off burnside) was one of the same ones the ex-mister stayed in after he was evicted from some random girl's house left his roommates due to high moral reasons before a wicked cold snap. anyway, it kinda gave us a warm feeling, which quickly dissolved during the ride back to his apartment. as best as we can remember:

me: "so, there's your good deed for the month."

cecil: "the month? dude, i should get more credit than that."

me: "fine, the year. fucking mother teresa."

cecil: "hey, do you think mother teresa ever got laid?"

me: "what? she was a nun. nuns are brides of christ."

cecil: "and?"

me: "i hear christ doesn't put out."

cecil: "that sucks. seriously, everyone should have sex before they die. no - everyone should have an orgasm before they die. they should have an orgasm, then die. that's the way i want to go."

me: "i'll tell the staff at the nursing home i picked out for you, then."

cecil: "you'll be my roommate, bitch. no really - maybe she got laid before she went to nun school?"

me: "a convent. maybe. i don't know."

cecil: "wow. imagine that. you're in some bar, and you get to say, 'oh yeah? i fucked mother teresa.' kinda cool."

me: "what bar is that? i'm not going there."

and so it went. suffice it to say, the phrase 'use it or lose it' was used, and another visual i didn't need is now stuck in my head. elephant penises and mother teresa's vagina share space up there.

whatever, i'm going to hell.

thanks for stopping by. hug your kids, visit an old folks home, pet a dog.

umm...

remember when i was saying that i'm smart, but i laugh at stupid stuff?

i think this proves my point right here. i've got the giggles. make sure your speakers are on. and look for the easter eggs (hidden bits of interwebby magic).

 thanks for coming by, as always. kisses and such to those of you i know all personal-like.

so! i live in breederville, aka the sticks, and friday it did this snow-hail-freeze thing. so, i didn't venture too far from the homestead in general. this is largely because, while i personally don't have many issues with driving in icy conditions, i am afraid of other people's competence with the driving on icy bits. so, there wasn't much happening. i did buy my laptop - ooo, it's shiny! - realized that the digital dinosaur needs batteries (and maybe i should read the manual), and went sledding.

yes, sledding. at the school next door to my house.

it's like this - i live pretty close to mount hood. by the way, if you're following the story of the guys that got trapped up there during one of recent freakish storms - searchers found a body in a snow cave, but they haven't been able to determine if he's one of the missing hikers. anyway, it's lovely up there (usually), but i don't get to the mountain too often. i had a snowboard when i first moved to oregon, but it was stolen after my first winter here, and i just haven't replaced it. friday, when all the liquids in the out-of-doors went all freezy-like, z was attempting to get to redmond to pick up her other son from the crazy ex-bastard. too scary, safety an issue, she turned around. basically, to get from the rabbyt hutch to redmond, we take highway 26 to highway 35, i think. it's a whole lot of not-much, and the roads freeze and get nasty during the winter months. so, the mountain's there, but it's not like any of us visit much.

friday night, after deciding that idiot drivers were not worth the fun of doing other really important things, a handful of folks congregated at my house to watch movies. around midnight, as we were getting all cabin-fever-ish and goofy, i suggested we grab all the sleds available between the rabbyt hutch and the hamptons down the street, and try to sled on the mild hills at the elementary school nearby.

it's sort of funny that all i said was, "let's go sledding," and all the other grown-ups immediately got on board. z dog - the only person in the house under 24 - said we were immature and stupid, and went to his room. whatever.

now, between all our camera phones, and access to digital cameras (some of which had actual charged batteries), i have not one picture to show for all the fun we had. i do have some minor scratches and a bruise on my ass (i was clothed, and not in saran wrap), but that's the only thing i have to show for all of it. it was quite dark, and we couldn't figure out the flash function on z's camera, so we just collectively shrugged and went for it. i have to say, there was that one tense moment when we realized we were being watched by a police officer (maybe he coulda taken pictures of us), but in general, we had a good crazy time.

saturday morning, i was traumatized. on the national geographic channel, they had this show called "in the womb: animals". it sounded kinda interesting, and the preview i saw had some cool-looking in utero shots of a dolphin, puppy, and elephant in the womb. not the same womb, mind you. wow - that woulda been some party. anyway, they started off talking about the elephants, and how the females and males don't really associate socially - they just get together to procreate. cecil said that's the way it should be done. ahem - so, they're doing the general elephant lowdown, and without warning, an erect male elephant is on my screen. jesus christ - i need some warning for that! it was terribly jarring, seeing a large animal preparing to get jiggy, y'know? i mighta screamed - it was kinda that sort of moment. it wasn't, like, a far away shot that i saw. this was something straight out of an elephant porn.

not from the show i saw, but... well, it's quite the physics feat. the females are, like seven feet tall or something? and the males weight quite a bit. and, um, they're hung like elephants. which is a visual that is forever burned into my mind. and plus? the female gestates (stays pregnant) for 22 months. two years for a baby? humans would go extinct. or the fashion industry would go out of business.

i shudder to think about the creep that's going to google "elephant porn," and find his way here.

and - i finally watched breakfast at tiffany's. cecil was telling me i was less of a woman because i hadn't seen that movie. my suggestion of giving blowjobs down at the docks to reinstate my girl-status didn't go over so well. so, watched the movie instead. eh. she's got skinny arms.

now, a few pictures.

this cracked me up. i had pre-cut cheese and crackers at work not too long ago, and the bag had this written along the ziplock top thingy. i responded, out loud and everything, "who you callin' a cracker?"

i thought it was hilarious. moving on...

there's this store downtown, called archaeology. i know i'm not spelling it the same way the store does. anyway, they have kinda pricy, but kinda pretty, stuff to buy. and their window is usually nifty in some way. i was walking by on my way to powell's one night, when i saw this:

it's a ceramic rabbit wearing a knitted scarf. the whole window was full of various ceramic animals, adorned with random bits of knittage.

the squirrel was knitting. there was a deer that had blue legwarmers. seriously, it cracked me up. cecil thought it was quite strange.

finally, here's your good deed for the year. there's this organization, called doctors without borders, that could use a bit of money to help out those in medical need. if you have a bit of change to spare, send it to them. somewhere, karma will prevent a parking ticket or something.

thanks for stopping by. cheers.

while driving to work tonight, after a bit of mild stalking and ass shakin', i was thinking about this guy i knew in high school. his name was myke (yes, spelled like that - his family was greek), and his older brother used to say the weirdest things to me. i was the first of all my friends to learn how to drive a manual transmission, and myke's older brother once told me that women who drive stick give better hand jobs.

yeah, gutteral. i know. but this is kinda funny.

so, every time i drove my mom's car - an old-school volvo with four speeds, and reverse was acheived by lifting this doughnut-like doohickey up while jamming the shifter as far left and as far up as humanly possible - myke would ask me how my technique was coming. it was one of those stupid inside jokes.

tonight, as i'm wrestling my car from out of the single worst parallel parking job ever, myke's voice came into my head as i was shifting into reverse again. i was laughing so hard, i'm pretty sure anyone walking by thought i was having some kind of fit.

thanks for stopping by. thanks for the cookies, moi. thanks for the sexy date, YMCrae. praise all those who kept their pants on in public.

well! i certainly feel better, now that i'm not obigated to study anything except the occasional emo ass. and while i'm not a big fan of emo in general, those boys have some lovely keisters.

hi, how y'all doing?

i'm very thrilled that tonight (that'd be thursday), i'll be listening to something fabulous before stolling into work about half past midnight. and i'll get to see YMCrae. and maybe some nice keister, but that could be a stretch. friday is for buying my laptop - oh, excuse me, they're called notebooks now - saturday is for, um, trying not to be fed by z's mom (she's coming; the stretchy pants are in the wash), sunday is for something i haven't thought of. i get a massage real soon. i know i've been saying that an awful lot, but since i'm such a pain in the ass to shop for, z has finally admitted she's getting me some hands. to, you know, touch me in hard-to-reach places.

okay, that last post, where i kind of get all gooey about portland's music? i think i've made it pretty clear that i'm not a music writer. i mean, i love going to shows on weekends - it's kind of a hobby, and i'll drag almost anyone to almost anything - and even if i don't love the music, i'm thrilled that there are people out there with more balls than i, and can totally get on stage in front of drunks and let it rip. but i really cant' do the musicians much good in terms of writing reviews. because they amount to, "oh, hell yeah!" or "oh, shit no!" i guess i could offer blowjobs, but that's not really my style.

speaking of blowjobs (nice transition, yeah?), i've been having to endure some total weirdness round the rabbyt hutch. there have always been issues between z and her 'husband', dude (there was a wedding, but it wasn't really official, and he doesn't live with us, and blah blah blah). the current issue is that he doesn't listen to her. well, i think that's been since they got married. but recently, he did something that really pissed her off. the problem wasn't that he did this thing - i don't think i have all the details, because i only hear her side of things - but that he didn't know it would upset her. apparently, they've talked about this, and it didn't stick in his brain. again, i'm not privy to both sides here, but i guess he's been helping out his ex-wife in financial ways, and he took her, his mom, and his daughter (who's in her early 20's and pregnant with her own child) to look at christmas displays or something. the ex-wife has no real relationship with dude's mom, and he seems to have no real reason to talk to her, unless she wants him to buy her something. anyway, there's a communication gap, and apprently it's pretty bad at the moment. z has been all screamy on the phone with him, and she 'doesn't feel heard'.

now, here's my thing. she's always complaining about something about him. i don't get why they're together. i asked her what the attraction was and she said, "well, there are certain things we can offer each other." that's not a loving relationship; that's a business proposal. i think that's a merger. she never says she loves him (anymore), or that she misses him. and i think the last time she said anything along those lines was before they got married. he's kind of... well... not smart, and i think, in a way, she likes to be smarter than others. i don't know what he sees in her, and i have even less of a guess as to what she sees in him. which is kind of my question. i mean, for those of you that are married - does love enter into it at all? do you want to be loved, or do you want to be supported (i mean in a financial sense)? i realize that there comes a time for a lot of relationships when the fire just stops. but you're still there, and they're still there. it becomes something you both can live with. but, well... is it supposed to start when you say, "i do?" z was talking about divorce, and mr sparkles said, "my dad married you two, and none of his marriages have ended in divorce. you guys can't be the first."

i guess, ultimately, i'm angry at people in general that take marriage lightly. yeah, it's a goofy institution, kinda installed by various churches and whatnot to make us feel bad for doing what feels good, with whoever feels right. but i personally believe in monogamy - do't get all pissy with me, i know it's not for everyone - and i believe that if you're going to get married, you should probably take it seriously.

moving on...

i've been knitting! and i have no pictures of my knitting! by the way, knitting a pair of knickers is not really a take-along project. i've been known to ride the train from breederville to downtown, and i will knit on the train. largely to avoid conversations with other people riding the train, but also because i fidget like a mad thing. and people in general are interested in what's on my needles. and people ask questions, and i'm not so good at lying. so, when i say i'm making underwear... well, people look concerned. it's better to bring a scarf or a sock. because they look like a scarf or a sock, and there are less probing questions.