Sewing machine and assorted tools... check.
Enough fabric to make 512 quilts... check.
Enough knitting to make my fingers fall off... check. (This is a big one. I ran out on the last visit and *gasp* had to buy more yarn.)
Ice wine to treat the Midwest gals to a Western New York specialty... check.
Thong underwear... check. Hey, it's on the quilt camp list. Blame Marcy.
!@#$$ library books and computer... ugh. It's there and I suppose I'll work... ugh.
Packed (sorta) and ready to head to the Heartland.
Look for crafty updates and stories of the natives soon.
10 August 2005
06 August 2005
Kick Ass Friends
Kick ass friends are the kind of people who…
1. come over on a gorgeous Sunday afternoon to help you break into your own apartment when you’ve locked yourself out. They even bring their own ladder.
2. go for a joy ride to your ex’s parents’ home to deliver his junk. They even offer their own vehicle as a moving van.
3. tell you you’re drop dead gorgeous even when you’re knitting in your dirty sweatpants from softball practice. Then they pass the chip n’ dip.
4. give you new coffee mugs and fancy schmancy English tea as part of a “relaxation” birthday present. They know that you need the kind of mug that demands a two-handed-lift to support your habit of caffeine in the a.m. and caffeine + schnapps in the p.m.
5. surprise you with Lip Venom, sure to make everything you say (and all the kisses you give) much, much spicier. Angelina has nothing on you in this stuff. “Come here, Brad baby.”
6. join you on half-baked schemes to find love (and avoid toothless janitors) at the Grand Island Holiday Inn. They even help you run from the stalker farm boy.
7. text message completely inappropriate comments at just the right moment to make you blush and secretly be flattered.
8. tell you how to hide your self-help books behind the Derrida and Foucault. Then they add to your collection.
I love you guys. I’ve got me some kick ass peeps.
1. come over on a gorgeous Sunday afternoon to help you break into your own apartment when you’ve locked yourself out. They even bring their own ladder.
2. go for a joy ride to your ex’s parents’ home to deliver his junk. They even offer their own vehicle as a moving van.
3. tell you you’re drop dead gorgeous even when you’re knitting in your dirty sweatpants from softball practice. Then they pass the chip n’ dip.
4. give you new coffee mugs and fancy schmancy English tea as part of a “relaxation” birthday present. They know that you need the kind of mug that demands a two-handed-lift to support your habit of caffeine in the a.m. and caffeine + schnapps in the p.m.
5. surprise you with Lip Venom, sure to make everything you say (and all the kisses you give) much, much spicier. Angelina has nothing on you in this stuff. “Come here, Brad baby.”
6. join you on half-baked schemes to find love (and avoid toothless janitors) at the Grand Island Holiday Inn. They even help you run from the stalker farm boy.
7. text message completely inappropriate comments at just the right moment to make you blush and secretly be flattered.
8. tell you how to hide your self-help books behind the Derrida and Foucault. Then they add to your collection.
I love you guys. I’ve got me some kick ass peeps.
02 August 2005
You know that scene in American Beauty where the kid is espousing on the beauty around us and filming the plastic bag? This morning he would've had a heart attack from the sublimity on the 290. A garbage truck, full of Wegmans and Target bags, lost its load and there we all were, driving through the sparkling, shining bags floating in the morning breeze. It was like being in a snow globe of consumerism. And all I could do was giggle on the way to work with my own piece of the action stuck to the front of my car. Me, my morning commute and a Wegmans bag blowing in the breeze... it's the little things, right?
If a garbage truck is going to spew, better to have plastic sacks than a whole lot of other things stuck to the front of your car.
And in the spirit of finding beauty in the stuff emitted by your friendly neighborhood garbage truck, I deleted yesterday's post. If any of you read it, please also throw it in your mental garbage truck and forget it. No need to spew out any bad mojo on the internet. Or as the queen Beyonce says, "You know I'm not gonna diss you on theinternet ('Cause my mama taught me better than that)."
Hoping all your garbage is pretty as it floats through the air...
If a garbage truck is going to spew, better to have plastic sacks than a whole lot of other things stuck to the front of your car.
And in the spirit of finding beauty in the stuff emitted by your friendly neighborhood garbage truck, I deleted yesterday's post. If any of you read it, please also throw it in your mental garbage truck and forget it. No need to spew out any bad mojo on the internet. Or as the queen Beyonce says, "You know I'm not gonna diss you on theinternet ('Cause my mama taught me better than that)."
Hoping all your garbage is pretty as it floats through the air...