I'm Going to Prison... And Other Amusing Stories

You all know that I'm on a yarn diet. I'm happy (?) to report that I've been doing extremely well. Unfortunately, my yarny goodness pictures are suffering because of it, but once I run out of new yarn to show you, I can start on my stash. That should last for the next five years, by which time I'll be off the diet and able to show you new yarn. See how it works?

But in the meantime, I'm still receiving goodies. Today was no different. I got my first club offering from Chameleon Colorworks, along with a beautiful pattern (thanks, Jerry... a Ravelry enabler/friend). I had never heard of them, but I just love finding new dyers. Jerry was kind enough to let me know about them, and I'm glad he did! Their yarn is glorious, and the put-up is 400 yards. Soft as a cloud, the colors just blend and flow into each other. It's going to make a killer pair of socks. Anyway, I can't show it to you because of the whole spoiler thing. I also got another skein of the Spunky Eclectic September club offering because one skein just doesn't cut it with my enormous feet (my apologies to my Monkey Sock swap partner). Again, I can't show it to you. What I can show to you is some crack other yarn that arrived today.

What we have here are Strings and Yarn in "Elves Dance" (this is the lady who takes a piece of classical music and interprets it into glorious color - you HAVE to try it; she's on Etsy (who isn't)), and the other skeins are from Union Center Knits - Whatnot Sock in "Fall" and "Ivy". Joni Miles is the lady behind the beauty; you can find her work at Woolgirl. If I'm not mistaken, she does colorways specifically for Jen. Enjoy!



That little bit of happiness out of the way, let me tell you how things went with my going back to the conference on Sunday to apologize to Nancie for missing her class.

It didn't.

I got up late yet again, and since part of my reason for going was to buy a couple of things from the show, Hubster put his foot down and said we weren't going. So it resulted in another day of knitting in my jammies, which wasn't a bad thing. I'm down to the toe on one of my Monkeys. I think I may make the deadline in time after all.

I've also been reading the books I got from the show. They're wonderful books, and I can't wait to try those silk socks (knitted on size 000) which come from Nancy Bush's book. The pattern doesn't call for this particular yarn or even something close to its weight, but that's okay. I've seen the finished article, and its out-of-this-world incredible. Imagine a shawl out of lace weight translated into socks with a simple lace pattern, and you've got something really special. I just have to make sure that I get a good pedicure before I slip my rough old dogs into that delicate silk, or I'll rip the shit out of them.

I got some really good news today, news that I've been waiting for. I called Folsom Prison and talked to the chaplain about my clearance. I've been cleared!! I'll be conducting my first flute class two weeks from today. I also spoke to the inmate-clerk who works with the chaplain and had a grand time. We were comparing who had more tattoos LOL. I think I'm going to get along just fine with these guys. I told him that they could bash each other over the head with the larger flutes as long as they pushed me out of the way first, and he told me that there would be none of that. Apparently, these guys (even though many of them are murderers) are committed to learning the flute and are on a spiritual path, so they're welcoming someone coming inside the walls to lead them. It doesn't hurt that I'm a woman with huge tits. I told him I was bald but was definitely a woman, and he told me that's all they needed. I think I could be an old fat hag with a wart on my nose as long as I had tits and legs, and they would be happy. I'm really jazzed about this - I love this shit. Remember, I'm the one who watches cop and prison shows nonstop. I live for the Sunday COPS marathon.

Now for the humorous event of the week. We have a pool (why, I don't know - it's cold here, and I can swim maybe twice every summer; the ocean would be warmer), and having a pool means that you have to sweep the sides with a brush on a telescoping pole. My old pool was 10 feet deep; this one is about eight. No matter; I still need the pole. So I went out there early in the morning to do the deed. It was overcast and very cold; in fact, it was lightly drizzling because of the fog. I had on my slippers and jammies. I got the pole off the holder on the fence, made sure the telescoping thingie was locked in place, and began to brush the sides. Everything went just fine in the shallow end, and then I moved down to the deep end. This pool isn't that large, so it doesn't take too long to do the sweeping. I was out there watching the hummingbird that comes to the fuschia every day and enjoying the dark sky when it happened. The pole is old - probably as old as the pool (which was built when bulldozers were invented) - and the locking mechanism (which is a button that fits into a hole) came loose. The pole suddenly collapsed just when I was pushing down and had the brush on the bottom of the deep end. I felt myself going forward, jammed the brush against the bottom in a vain attempt to keep from going in, and suddenly the entire pole turned into a toothpick. I went face-first into the ice-cold water and promptly sank right down to the bottom, still clinging to the now useless pole. I surfaced and managed to make my way to the side (your muscles turn to mush in very cold water - ask me sometime about almost dying in the Sacramento River), where I hung on to the side of the pool gasping and swearing loudly. Then I glided across the water to the steps, climbed out, and promptly froze. I didn't have a towel out there, so I dropped the pole and ran into the bathroom where there was a towel, jumped into the shower and took a long, hot one, and put on flannel jammies. Not a good way to start the day. But it turned out well, so I can't complain.

I need a consolation skein of yarny goodness because I've been traumatized. Yeah, that's the ticket.

It's what I'm saying and I'm sticking to it.