DSC_3690 by busbeytheelder

Hmmm.

I have eaten the fried turkey before and liked it well enough. But, for some reason it seemed better this year. I do not know why. Maybe I just had it in my head that with all the rave fried turkey reviews, even I would like it better. Or maybe BIL has perfected his turkey frying technique.

Whatever, my turkey enjoyment was atypical.

Typical was my need to pester SIL with 50 zillion questions about yarn. Because I like fabric and fibers. And yarn is a fiber about which I know next to nothing. And there it always is, all furry and interesting on the shelf. And of course she knitted the cute legwarmers for DD so I associate her with yarn. And I keep thinking that I can eventually convince myself that I have the attention span to learn how to knit.

But whenever I get extremely interested in the allure of the yarn and the idea of the needles clacking in a soothing way, I suddenly image loosing my place on a pattern and ending up with some really crooked, unusable piece of cloth. And that is too much doom and anxiety to contemplate. Better to admire the yarn at SILs house.

Also, I find it a paradox that when wool lands on me it itches. And SIL has about a dozen different types of wools and never, ever looks itchy. She keeps explaining which ones are actually hair, and not fur. But since DH is still telling me which weird animal is a mule and which one is a donkey, and I still don’t know. I suspect that unless something cataclysmic happens, I will not get this animal covering worked into my brain. Though I think that I understand that alpaca is from a goat not a sheep.

Right. Aunt D mentioned that there was much violence at Thanksgiving because my niece jumped on me and grabbed my neck. She’s three. Aunt D can make anything sound inflammatory for fun. Really, if the worst act of violence is a very affectionate three year old. And the worst verbal assault concerns too many questions about yarn, I think we’re in pretty good shape.

Happy Thanksgiving All.

Related posts:

• Acrylic Yarn is Yukky
• Knitting and Other Mishaps

Pink alligators by drdad

Which reminds me of some crazy plastic alligator, pink, that was brought to me by this random guy who really wanted me to have it.  He brought two, one for me, and one for the roommate so she wouldn’t feel left out.  Like we were five or something.  Bizarre.  Wonder if he had some kind of roommate switch fantasy going on.  Or just really, really wanted to share the alligator cocktail joy.  (Cannot accuse him of being too cheap to buy an actual gift, not true.)  I’m sure there is a photo of me, roommate and the alligators in my basement somewhere.

But back to the pleather.  Sewing a fake skin, in the form of vinyl is just weird.  I am loathe to imagine what kind of chemicals might be bonding together to form such a fabric.  But in any event real leather was not available, and probably not affordable.  So pleather it was.  So strange.

Sewing Vinyl aka Pleather

I’m still cleaning up this blog.  Which it appears that I do annually.  I did not intend that, schedule it, or anything of the sort.  But I can see that I moved it from Blogger, to WordPress.com, to self-hosted WordPress (here) about one year apart each time.  How odd.  I’m sure if I tried to do that on purpose that it would never happen.

My good friend is getting married in October in New York.  So I am trying to plan a weekend trip.  And it occurred to me today that flying to New York means flying over New Jersey, which is really far too close.  And some insane people are actually going to fly into Newark.  I have been through Newark airport enough times to understand that it is in my best interest to pay the extra $20 to fly into New York.  Last time I had to go to New Jersey, I got a ticket for making a left turn.  Did you know that left turns do not exist in northern New Jersey?  You have to drive into this thing similar to a freeway ramp, that must cost billions to construct.

I was going to type that I have not flown since before 9/11.  But that isn’t true.  I went to Nebraska last year.  But I don’t remember the cosmetics packing for new airline regulations drama.  I’ll have to look that up again.  I just remember the pre-departure as telling myself that my husband really could keep our three year old alive for an entire weekend without my help.