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I'm desperately in love with this hat: Chapeau Marnier. I'm going to seek out some fingering weight yarn (which I've never knitted with before) so I can make at attemept at this. Lace scares me, though.
Payroll Girl has a pinched nerve in her neck, so our lunchtime trip to the shooting range has been put on hold until next week.
I'm feeling rather blah today. I have to skip over to Costco for office supplies. I dread it because of the crowds. However, it will allow me to take a long lunch, and I plan on stopping by the bookstore to pick up something.
Jason has been raiding my bookshelf, looking for something to read. The last time I suggested he read something, he told me I liked abstract novels. That's what I get for handing a Gene Wolfe book over to him. He took Issac Asimov this time, though I desperately tried to talk him into reading the R.A. Salvatore books I've finished already. He was reading The Worm Ouroboros by Eddison, but he threw it down in disgust last night, muttering about the high-handed language. I dunno. I've never read it. I suspect he's just burned out from reading a couple heady sci-fi novels written in the 1960's, and he wants something a bit more straight-forward.
It looks like I've been trapped into going to a barbeque in Santa Fe this weekend. Barbeques and I aren't good friends, but I'll deal if I can bring my Boca burgers. As long as no one infects them with particles of meat, that is. Plus, I'm not really a huge fan of Santa Fe. I feel like residents are required to wear floaty skirts and swish about talking of art galleries and crystals. Anne certainly does, and she's the barbeque host. Anne also can't watch "violent" movies because they make her physically ill. My only consolation is that Jason's dad saw Liam Neeson in a bar/coffee house in Santa Fe. This was probably because Seraphim Falls was being filmed there at the time, but I'm going to delude myself into believing that Liam Neeson hangs out in Santa Fe. I would surely make a bumbling fool of myself before falling at his feet if ever in the same room as him. I luff you, Liam. I really do. Let's play a game. You be Qui-Gon, and I'll be the naughty Jedi padawan. Punish me!
Payroll Girl has a pinched nerve in her neck, so our lunchtime trip to the shooting range has been put on hold until next week.
I'm feeling rather blah today. I have to skip over to Costco for office supplies. I dread it because of the crowds. However, it will allow me to take a long lunch, and I plan on stopping by the bookstore to pick up something.
Jason has been raiding my bookshelf, looking for something to read. The last time I suggested he read something, he told me I liked abstract novels. That's what I get for handing a Gene Wolfe book over to him. He took Issac Asimov this time, though I desperately tried to talk him into reading the R.A. Salvatore books I've finished already. He was reading The Worm Ouroboros by Eddison, but he threw it down in disgust last night, muttering about the high-handed language. I dunno. I've never read it. I suspect he's just burned out from reading a couple heady sci-fi novels written in the 1960's, and he wants something a bit more straight-forward.
It looks like I've been trapped into going to a barbeque in Santa Fe this weekend. Barbeques and I aren't good friends, but I'll deal if I can bring my Boca burgers. As long as no one infects them with particles of meat, that is. Plus, I'm not really a huge fan of Santa Fe. I feel like residents are required to wear floaty skirts and swish about talking of art galleries and crystals. Anne certainly does, and she's the barbeque host. Anne also can't watch "violent" movies because they make her physically ill. My only consolation is that Jason's dad saw Liam Neeson in a bar/coffee house in Santa Fe. This was probably because Seraphim Falls was being filmed there at the time, but I'm going to delude myself into believing that Liam Neeson hangs out in Santa Fe. I would surely make a bumbling fool of myself before falling at his feet if ever in the same room as him. I luff you, Liam. I really do. Let's play a game. You be Qui-Gon, and I'll be the naughty Jedi padawan. Punish me!