My Darling G-Rocks,
I knew something was wrong last night when Ava could barely muster one round. Do you ever get that feeling that someone is just not into knitting you . . . almost a "It's not you, it's me" vibe when you know damn well it is you? Last night was one such night. I wondered, "Did I do something wrong? Could I serve a better purpose plugging her ears after listening to all those youngsters murder the divine Diana Ross?" Alas, when her darling children started petting her hair, telling her it would be okay, I knew it couldn't have been the fault of a little bit of yarn.
Oh, G-Rocks, I just know if we put our tiny needles and fiber together, we can come up with something better for the girls. I hear that on the Internet, you can find lots of lovely flights for very little money. If you promise to be a good lilttle sock and I promise to at least try being one, I have a feeling everything will work out for the best.
I was beginning to think that my lovingly hand dyed colorway (you are right . . . we do need to think of a new name for that ) might run from all the sadness, when the ruckus from downstairs finally made a connection. G-Rocks! You are coming to the East coast after all! Jump for joy, little one. You can see Lush and Purl Soho and Schoolhouse (three-way? Shit, the way Ava talks, we're in for an orgy) and a subway and maybe, if you are really good, we can recreate the Rocky scene running up the stairs. Wait; that would take physical exertion and we know Lola and Ava aren't into that unless there is a Starbucks at the top of those stairs.
Jump in your traveling pouch and tell your inner-Mom voice to hush; it looks fine. Besides, the boys never look at the construction before they try the zipper. Ava is trying to pick out the Amy Butler prints that she wants for her bags. For some reason, she keeps muttering stubborn and bitch over and over again. I hope she doesn't get too involved with the Bernina again. That affair gets a bit over-wraught. Put away the cheap wine and turn on America's Next Top Model - at least no one will sing. After last night's AI, I was ready to have Ava put you on the phone to sing. Foofaraw says she is love, but she's a bit off her rocker if you ask me.
See you soon,
Monsoon
PS - We promise to stop our socks from blogging . . . they are getting a bit full of themselves. I might have to threaten Monsoon with frogging if she doesn't behave.
We shall find yarn & fabric next weekend! Oh yes we will! Have the girls gotten their permit yet? Too bad...
Finish Shedir & got my yarn. See,everything is lining up.
Posted by: lola | March 15, 2007 at 01:38 PM
So, guess what's sitting on my lap right now? Yup, that would be my laptop! All gussied up in the see-through red cover from the post. Love, love, love it . . . except for the Internet connection. Might have to buy a router to fix the problem. Yippee! Only one week to go . . . and more snow tonight into tomorrow. It was 70 fucking degrees yesterday.
Posted by: Ava | March 15, 2007 at 08:02 PM
Are you two *really* separate people?? Love your blog, thanks for introducing me via your comment on mine. Yes, that Edwin Claudius, he's a looker! (Don't tell him he looks regal--his head is big enough as it is... as is his body!)
And can I say amen on the Foofaraw note? What the hell?? I renamed mine immediately. Foofaraws definitely do not belong on my blog.
And, yes, I am in sleeting, icicling, weird frozen hell right now in downtown Philly. Yesterday was all t-shirts and spring and today is all winter again. Hrm.
Posted by: knittingphilistine | March 16, 2007 at 08:40 PM