Monthly Archives: February 2014

This Is Awesomesauce, and a Little Creepy

Apparently the Chandra telescope captured a picture of the hand of God..

It’s also apparent that God was not paying attention in shop class one day, and lost his ring finger.   Probably when he was creating dinosaurs.

Or Justin Beiber.

No, for that he’d of poked out his eyes.

Nope, had to be dinosaurs.

It also appears that IronMan stole some of God’s (literal) lightning.   Take a look again, and you’ll get it.



I Miss Uncle Arthur

If you know who I’m talking about, and you miss him too…some of his more hilarious moments as the “center” of attention.

Let's not get a"head" of ourselves, shall we?

Let’s not get a”head” of ourselves, shall we?

Confessions of a Yarnoholic

Last weekend the oldest daughter-child requested the use of my sewing machine.  She’s going to teach herself to sew, and make clothes for her family.

I haven’t used my sewing machine since 2005, but it was new then so I knew it’d be fine for my budding pioneer woman – no lie, she’s turned from a rampant woman’s rights activist into the model of 1950’s domesticity.  She bakes her own bread, grows her own food, raises chickens, and keeps a spotless house.

Not sure if a string of pearls is involved, but her hair is always perfect because when she’s not playing June Cleaver she’s a hairstylist by trade.

But, what does this have to do with the title to this post you ask?

I’m getting there.

The sewing machine is waaaaaaaaaay back in the corner of a closet.  We have some very large and deep closets in my house, a fact that may be heartening to those who are organized, but to those of us who are “just going to put this in the closet and deal with it later” it’s a nightmare.

I dove into the chasm Saturday morning, and an hour and a half later my hubby walks into a room knee-deep (I am not exaggerating) in clothing, shoes, what-the-hell-is-this, and so-there’s-where-that-went.

“What are you doing?”, he asked, staring wide-eyed at the mess.

“K wants to borrow the sewing machine and I had to unbury it.” I said, breathless and sweaty.

“Oh”, he replied and scampered out of the room before I put him to work.  He can always tell by that look in my eye when I’m about to pounce, and suddenly he has to go clean the andirons on the fireplace. And we don’t even have any andirons, and we don’t use the fireplace much anymore. It was a selling point when we bought the house, but that was before the reality of a wood burning fireplace set in.  It’s messy, kids.


You are an impatient crowd-of-two aren’t you?

I dragged the sewing machine out and put it in the hallway so we’d remember to take it the next day to the birthday party we would all be attending.

I then grabbed three ginormous trash bags – I’m talking the heavy duty contractor bags, made for clean-up of construction sites and disposal of compact cars here – and proceeded to fill three of them with items for Goodwill, and one smaller bag was filled with trash.

I was left with a gloriously organized closet – the rod had all the clothes I do wear hanging on it, and the floor contained shoes lined up in a row not piled willy-nilly.

More than that, I had room, empty space, a place to put something.

I proudly showed hubby, who asked, “So, what are you going to put in there now that you have all that room?”

My eyes glazed over as I smiled wistfully while visions of crochet projects yet-to-be danced in my head.  “Yarn.”

“Yarn? What yarn?”

“I have to go shopping, of course.”, l replied looking at him like he should know better than to ask. I swear, sometimes it’s like he doesn’t know me at all.

He walked away mumbling something about my “problem” as I stared into the closet’s abyss and imagined blues and greens, tans and yellows, bulky, baby fine, heavy-duty and threadlike..yarn…

This is the stuff dreams are made of.

This is the stuff dreams are made of.

And that’s why I’m a yarnoholic.  I don’t need any more yarn, kids, but I have a void.

In a closet.

I have space.

For yarn.

And, I have a 40% coupon for Hobby Lobby.


Maybe There Are 50 Ways…

….to kill a vampire, but this only lists the top 10 with a few honorable mentions.

Most seem pretty complex to me, but then I’m sure not everyone goes around with a vampire hunting kit like Peter Vincent.

Please tell me you know who Peter Vincent is.



Because If It’s Good Enough for The Bloggess, It’s Good Enough For Me to Steal

The Bloggess, over there on the left and really –  I mean you are not addicted to her?

Anyway, The Bloggess has occasionally posted search terms that bring people to her site.

She has a LOT of search terms to play with.

I only have a few…

special fbi agent juke williams – this one shows up proving that Juke is still up to his old tricks and obviously not getting enough takers to retire and spend his twilight years in lovely Siberia – and if you’re here today, because Juke is looking for you – he is not real, it is a scam, get back to work

vncccccc – ooohhh…I know what this is! That’s the Roman numeral for that game that was just played with the sportsball-thing…Stupendous Bowel, or something like that.

special agent juke williams – toe-may-toe, toe-mah-toe – and this search, in some form or other comes up more than anything else…really, people?

Texas weather – wait…five…minutes

baley lamin – i’m sure that’s the name of a folk singer, and if it’s not, it needs to be

what does owiee mean – umm..owiee? Say it out loud, it will make sense

shit my lpo says – huh..i didn’t even know lpos could talk..learn something new every day

tango city in republic of benin – i was not there, not on the night in question at least

I just realized why I don’t usually dig into the search stats.

People scare me.






This One Nearly Killed Me

…so I’m going to share..of course…

brown window spider