If we used actual titles for posts, this one would be something like "Send More Beer, It's Mother's Day" or something to that effect. We thought we had enough for the whole weekend (silly us), but last night proved us slightly wrong. Luckily, it's Ohio and that is easily rectified.
Since it is Mother's Day, we thought we would dedicate this to all the mothers in our lives. If ever we would write a book, which we won't since we started writing this blog when it seemed as if every blogger with a modicum of talent was offered a book deal and we were irritated on a daily basis, we would write it on practical parenting and call it Things Your Mother Should Have Told You (And Probably Did But You Weren't Listening Again). Even in hypothetical books, I enjoy a good parenthetical phrase.
Our mom is one of the kindest, sweetest, do-anything-for-you-est person that you will ever meet . . . and she drives us nuts. I'm not sure why that is; maybe it's because we think that we are doing a decent job as moms ourselves and she tends to pick at the flaws, but it happens on a weekly basis. We weren't allowed to tease each other growing up for fear of giving the other one a complex. A complex? Who the hell says that? Consequently, we frequently call our kids all sorts of names . . . Syrup Head, Lotion Brain, Doofus, What-were-you-thinking. You name it, we've done it. We were always nice (or forced to be) growing up for fear that we would hate one another. That kind of backfired for me since I never really like Lola until she was about 16 - shocking, I know. Not sure about the sister, but I know that my girls don't always get along and I'm frequently the sounding board for the displeasure. But, all in all, we love her unconditionally with all of her foibles . . . we just hope she feels the same.
A trip to Columbus is always an adventure; this time it was on the first half of the leg. I got to Newark in plenty of time, breezed through security, figured I had time for a preflight Quarter Pounder with Cheese, and checked my gate. No gate. Delayed to 10:40 PM . . . as in two hours later. For me, that means one thing: more time for knitting and more time for listening to my book on tape. BoBo is the perfect plane/drinking/movie project at this point. Miles and miles of stockinette with very little attention. I'm done with the decreases in the body and have 4.5 inches more to go before the short rows in the boobs. As far as colors, I think I am leaning towards a nice turquoise and maybe a cream, so thank you.
Speaking of yarn, I'm sure we learned of its pleasure here, but damn . . . why didn't someone emphatically tell us about Malabrigo's lace weight? At $8.80 for 450 yards, what are the downsides to this? Not enough of the color you wanted? Maybe, but that's all I can think of. Oh to be wrapped in a sweater made out of this yarn! I might become a recluse if that happened.
Enjoy the rest of your weekend . . . it's rainy here in C-Bus, but I could care less. I have two personal days to take, the beer is cold, and the knitting is easy. Sing that to the tune of "Summertime" and you have a song worthy of Simon Cowel.
PS - a special Mother's Day love fest to our mothers-in-law (we both won the lottery with them!), sisters, sisters-in-law, and friends . . . if you celebrate, live it up!