Socks are done! Hallelujah, and they seemed to go over well. I showed off the seams at the PP on Tues and I was positively rapturous about them. It's good to have an appreciative audience for this type of squeee-ing so the rest of the world doesn't think you're insane.
Love the card and the oh so cute little birdie pin :)
Hat for T is blocking and smells like wet dog - possibly good seeing as its new home is quite doggy.
Boy meets sidewalk. For weeks I've been warning of the perils of sliding down the sheer face of our snowbanks to the concrete sidewalk below. Today, the inevitable happened - he slipped of and landed on his head. Poor baby. Looks like someone hit him with a meat tenderizer.
See the snowbank just past the blue van? Make it steeper and take away the protective layer of snow on the sidewalk and that's the scene.
His socks are ticking along nicely, although had to pick up the heel stitches twice. Why can I never do this properly the first time? Not much point on a pic of these.
And tonight my little friend comes home and reenters my orbit. For some strange reason I have convinced myself that things will go well. I have convinced myself that I will spontaneously run into him alone, not in a group of people, without lurking so badly outside his building that I have to have myself surgically removed and warrant another entry into the SP Annals of Accidentia. That we will engage in witty banter that leads seamlessly into an opportunity to ask him out. That he will accept, and have no plans for the foreseeable future and whisk me away to some romantic paradise where we will frolic in the daisies and bond forever.
Does this have any basis in reality? Even one toehold on the earth? I think not.
More like if I study his schedule and walk around at an opportune times I might just see him, probably with a whole bunch of his PDers and if by chance he does speak to me, I'll say something stupid and inane, miss any opportunity that might remotely arise and scuttle back to my desk having accomplished NOTHING.
Why the panic to do it tomorrow? I don't have the kids this weekend and feel like if I miss this opportunity I won't get another one for ages. What? How long has this been going on? Hmmmm... 8 months? You can't wait another few weeks for a decent opportunity to arise?
But quite frankly, we've spent some quality time in conversation, exchanged mildly suggestive cards and emails, had lunch twice, and kissed. (OK, it was on the cheek, but still. I haven't kissed anyone else at work in my 6 years except BB and he's tres French). Oh, and the cupcake. Maybe it's time we put da cards on da table.
With any luck I'll get Ebola tomorrow and miss the "perfect" opportunity.
And tonight my little friend comes home and reenters my orbit. For some strange reason I have convinced myself that things will go well. I have convinced myself that I will spontaneously run into him alone, not in a group of people, without lurking so badly outside his building that I have to have myself surgically removed and warrant another entry into the SP Annals of Accidentia. That we will engage in witty banter that leads seamlessly into an opportunity to ask him out. That he will accept, and have no plans for the foreseeable future and whisk me away to some romantic paradise where we will frolic in the daisies and bond forever.
Does this have any basis in reality? Even one toehold on the earth? I think not.
More like if I study his schedule and walk around at an opportune times I might just see him, probably with a whole bunch of his PDers and if by chance he does speak to me, I'll say something stupid and inane, miss any opportunity that might remotely arise and scuttle back to my desk having accomplished NOTHING.
Why the panic to do it tomorrow? I don't have the kids this weekend and feel like if I miss this opportunity I won't get another one for ages. What? How long has this been going on? Hmmmm... 8 months? You can't wait another few weeks for a decent opportunity to arise?
But quite frankly, we've spent some quality time in conversation, exchanged mildly suggestive cards and emails, had lunch twice, and kissed. (OK, it was on the cheek, but still. I haven't kissed anyone else at work in my 6 years except BB and he's tres French). Oh, and the cupcake. Maybe it's time we put da cards on da table.
With any luck I'll get Ebola tomorrow and miss the "perfect" opportunity.
2 comments:
Well ebola aside - this whole entry made me pee my pants. From the title, scuttle, annals of accidentia. It's a classic. Can't believe you couldn't squeeze codpiece in though.
Well, some little fairy told me it's wrong to comment on your own blog, but I don't give a flying codpiece.
I'll try harder to use words of distinction in future.
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