PlazaJen: Passion Knit

I have been ornery since lunch yesterday. I don't mean cranky, or petulant, or nothin' like that, just good plain Eddie Haskell ornery, which translates into mostly entertaining with a pinch of kinda scary.

Four of us went to lunch yesterday, utilizing some trade dollars that had been given to a co-worker. Two guys, two girls. Three of us ordered fancy-schmancy entrees, because we had $100 to spend. For instance, I got the Walleye Pike with Yellow Coconut Curry sauce. $14. I inquired as to what it came with, and was told "a side of vegetables." Let's talk about how small this Walleye was. It must have been just released from the hatchery when it was caught. The piece of meat was no bigger than the palm of my hand. And flat as a pancake, because if someone gave me say, a shark or tuna steak the size of my palm, I'd be in heaven, since those are normally a couple inches thick. The side of vegetables was three stalks of aspargus, artfully arranged to fill in some of the voluminous blank space that was my plate. WTF? The guys had ordered crabcakes and scallops. Correction. CrabCAKE. As in the singular. Also with three stalks of asparagus. The scallops? Three. Three Wee Scallops. Balanced, of course, by three stalks of asparagus. I could not stop laughing. The other person had gotten a sandwich, and it was the size of a loaf of bread. With a scoop of fries on the side. Enormous. The contrast was hilarious, especially because our meals all cost between $14-$17, and her sandwich was $8. In an effort to spend all the dollars, we then ordered desserts, and they were dreadful. The spiced creme brulee? Consistency of paste. I kept uttering the word, "Glutinous!" between my fits of laughter. The cranberry cheesecake? Uh, hi, cranberries require at least a modicum of SUGAR added to them. Our first bites had all of us recoiling with fish faces and squinted eyes, because the tartness was unbelievable. And after all that, we still didn't go to Wendy's. I was totally jonesing for some chili and a baked potato. Instead, I had stomach cramps all afternoon, and was relieved to get home to that big pile of turkey.

So we got some snow. About 10" by our house, and I've been living an Ode to Mimi the Murano the past two days - AWD? I love it. Holy Toledo. Though I stated quite loudly last night that I'm not one of those asshole SUV drivers, because I still creep slowly along and keep loads of distance between myself & the drivers around me. And anyway. The insurance classifies her as a WAGON. But I have felt infinitely safer in this sloppy weather, so thank you Mimi.

Then this morning, I walk into the lobby of our building, and there are about 10 men in winter clothing sitting around, apparently waiting to move furniture in upstairs. They all look at me. It could be my natural beauty, or it could be the black Russian-styled rabbit-fur hat I was wearing. Kristin said perhaps they thought I was a Russian Princess. All I know is that they started talking (English) and saying something, and laughing kind of suggestively, and I have NO IDEA what they were saying. So I just smiled and swept past them with all the presence of a princess. To be greeted by the statement, "You need to control your department, they're trying to burn the place down."

Apparently, a certain someone named Kristin was sending me an email. And her power strip started sparking & attempting to die via self-immolation. The stench was horrific. You might think, oh, it was a really old power strip? So it was just time? But I have a different theory. She was sending me an email, saying that I should look for this under my Christmas tree this year:



Jesus, send me some salvation. This is courtesy of our friends over at Berroco, and I'm not linking to them because if you are going to create a pattern THIS HIDEOUS that requires not only time spent knitting, but knitting a lot, because this ugly mo-fo's FELTED, then you don't deserve linkage. Hi, and let's talk about how this taps right in to everything I was warned about as a child. Don't walk with your hands in your pockets. Don't run with scissors. Don't PUT YOUR FEET INTO A CONJOINED COMPARTMENT because what if there's a fire? Or the phone rings? Or the house alarm is set off at 5:30 in the morning? You instinctively would leap to your feet, and KABLAM! Down like a sack of potatoes, felled by your own handiwork. You might even break your nose.

I have a feeling the orneryness is going to continue. Y'all have been warned. Read at your own risk.