Blossom Dearie: They Say It's Spring

But my winter coat says, "Wear me or catch a cold."

Frizzy All of your work related stress can be alleviated

And here they are .....

the first flowers of Spring

$139 Replica Watches! and other gifts

I have been completing projects for other people since the new year. More specifically for Other People's Kids. Other people's cute little girls.

I have not had an OPK post in some time. There was some blog fodder immediately after Giftmas but I lost the chance.

Hmm.

Actually, I need to rant.

If you remember, this winter I had surgery and Cousin L took advantage of my convalescence to drop off his kids (a few times).

Lil T and Trey enter my home and drop off their various Christmas toys from which they could not detach themselves while with me. Surprise Surprise.

Trey had his pocket gaming device and a book bag of action figures.  Lil T trails behind him carrying a box and dragging a barbie doll by its tangle hair.

I take the box from her and ask, "What's this." She informs me, "It's an Easy Bake Oven, Daddy said that you would help me with it."

"Did he......"

The box had not been opened at all. This man. This relative of mine. This father. Had made a promise to his little girl that I would help her bake her first cake.

I was honored and pissed at the same time.

Now, I had to include into our activities for the evening - bake time.

First thing that I do is check the box for the needed parts.

I asked Lil T if her father had packed a light bulb. She indicated that he had not.

Every former little girl (that was like me) knows that an Easy Bake Oven in NOT plug and bake.

Some set up is required.

Most importantly, a LIGHT BULB.

No one taught that to my single parent father Cousin L.

The toy did not require any old light bulb. It required a 100 Watt bulb.

Who has those anymore?

I certainly did not.

I checked the kitchen drawer where I keep all my extra bulbs.

YUP

All of them CFL

I checked all the light fixtures.

Nope. All of them CFL or lower wattage.

I read a few weeks ago that the Easy Bake Oven may go the way of the

Polaroid camera; if those hippy lawmakers have their way. This video explains it all

NBC News Video -- Easy Bake Oven vs. "The Lightbulb Police"
- Watch more Videos at Vodpod.

What I want you to understand is that I could not bear to look at the face of an 8 year old girl after I shared with her that I did not have the correct parts to operate her Easy Bake Oven. HER FIRST EASY BAKE OVEN.
I shake my fist at all those MALE lawmakers who fail to see the relationship between a 100 watt bulb and a future cook. 
And I shake my fist at my Cousin L for not warning me about the damn toy. (Well I did when it happened back in December)
So we donned our winter coats and boots to search for a 100 watt light bulb. While it snowed outside. On a cold winter day. And I had no cash on me. And my tank was 1/4 full. 
Sigh

Once we had the oven assembled with the correct parts, we made several cookie cakes. I was so exhausted from their fighting and baking cakes, that I let them eat their sweets on my bedspread. I was finding crumbs for days. But at least she has the memory of the first time. 
I am a wonderful person.

A few weeks ago, Facebook suggested that I stalk some of my sister's old photo albums. I happened upon the album titled "Easter." I obliged FB's command and clicked. How could I ignore it?
I was shocked,
Appalled,
Horrified,
To see my two year old niece using a plastic shopping bag to gather her Easter eggs back in 2010. I immediately called my sister to share my incredulity with her.
How could she permit this to not only happen but to commemorate it in a FB album. 
A shopping bag
The tumbleweeds of the Urban  city.
She laughed at me and suggested that I send her a basket for this year.
I did more than that.

I used a technique called "rag crochet." I cut 2.5 inch strips of nursery patterned fabric, joined the strips, and then crocheted the longer strips with a large sized hook. 
She loves it. I hear that she had already filled it "full of crap." 

 

Not long ago, Ambriel's ten year old daughter peeks around the corner. I ask her to come into the office. She looks at her hands and asks me if I would make for her a slouching beanie cap.

It had to be blue to match her coat. Again, I could not say no to that precious face.  After she looked up at me, that is.

 

She had been jealous because I had make a scarf for her little brother. I found the pattern in Crochet! magazine and had fun with itThis is the result. I had this Araucania Ulmo Multy yarn, that was mostly blue. I think the colors in the cotton yarn will make a great spring hat for her. .

Now that I have done three good deeds for three little girls, I am making a shawl to wear at work.
No matter the season, the office has the chill. I would rather avoid a space heater under my desk. I am making the 

Lightning Shawl by Frankie Brown in a variegated acrylic yarn. Another reason, why it is best not to have a space heater in the office.  My progress so far.

My HOAR ♥ bead marker is courtesy of SeeJayneKnits.

Read and Act Accordingly

Good friends and good alcohol are usually a good combination. Until it is not. Like the time my GF and I went for sushi. Our plans had been delayed due to the weather. Originally, we were going to have dinner at 7and then head to the wine bar at 8:30. The night would have ended by midnight with both of us in our respective beds reading a book.
We didn't head to the sushi restaurant until 9:30. We drank sake and with our judgment impaired and the night still young we decided to try out a new bar. We arrived just before midnight and ordered dirty vodka martinis.

Mistake number one, we went with well vodka because we were lazy. Mistake two, we did not have our friends meet us there. Before we finished our first martini we know that we would need someone to pick us up.  She texted a friend and I texted a friend.

As you see. The conversation was normal. I was trying to lead up to the fact that I was quickly getting drunk.
I was in a strange bar with friendly people. We were having a great time but we were fast approaching the threshold for becoming too drunk to drive. We were both having trouble relating our weakness to our friends via text.
Then I decided to drop a big hint that I might need some help.


I should mention that I hate it when lounges have performers and the patrons shout at each other to be heard. I think if you are going to a lounge with a band then you should expect to be silent while the band plays so that everyone can enjoy the music.
Unfortunately, by my second martini, even I was shouting.

;ll

And making a mess.
At this point, I remembered having sake before drinking the martini. A voice whispered to me, "don't mix your liquors."
I ignored it.
and ordered a second martini.
Elossa was out playing cards with his friends. Contacting him had been a shot in the dark.
I tried calling Cousin L who hung up on me. I sent him a text message reading "I am drunk." he didn't bother to text or call me back. I told my friend that I would call my mother and tell on him for not being there when I needed a ride home from the bar. I was pretty drunk. She suggested that I do not call her while I was inebriated and in a bar.My roommate was out of town. It didn't occur to me to call my sister to pick me up and we were hoping that another friend would arrive. I am still upset with Cousin L. Even though, I know that my drunkenness was not his fault. I am upset because he didn't call me until 12 pm the next day.



After we had been in the bar for about an hour other drunken bar patrons began strolling over to us for a chat.
One guy began telling stories of his painful life. My girlfriend became so sad that she cried as he related tales of abandonment and loneliness. Thank goodness, her friend Arturo arrived.He was like our savior.I was so happy to see him.
He informed the bartender that we were done drinking for the night. She decided that with him in the bar she was safe to commence some drunken dancing while the guy with the guitar played. I continued to text Elossa until my girlfriend caught me. She took my phone from me and tried to clean up my position.

I got it back from her. Silly girl and promptly fixed what she had undone.
And this was the last set of messages before I was shoved into the back seat of Arturo's car and driven to the Waffle House.



Dear Waffle House employees: You are amazing folks. I hope that nothing but goodness follows you throughout this lifetime. Thank you for the work that you do.
Signed, that drunk woman who left seaweed on the floor.


What did I learn from this? Sake sneaks up on you. Never go with the well vodka. Always, know who you can call upon when you need a ride. Finally, carry cash to tip the guy who has to mop the floor after your accident.

Impressive

I am a little bothered that they are watching these videos and listening to this horrible version of rap music.

Free trial enlargement

Recently, I attempted to read Brains: A Zombie Memoir. It was a difficult read. A story from the viewpoint of sentient zombie. Completely disturbing. I could not complete the book once I understood that the pregnant zombie's belly continued to grow after undeath. I have my limits. I didn't want to know what happened next. In defense of the book, the references to Hamlet made me laugh more than once.
Spoiler: My favorite line, "Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are undead." Okay that may not have been the actual line but close enough.

I pulled this document from here http://goo.gl/1ijUM and I added my information.

I figure that I would be valuable in a bunker of survivors for my keen cooking skills,  loyalty, humor and ability to turn any space into a loving home.  The constant need to outrun the zombie horde would not inhibit my knitting or crocheting as long as I have a knitting sheath for holding my stuff.  With my skills, everyone would have a shopping bag sleeping mat.  I am not suggesting that crocheting doilies, knitting hats, or spinning fiber or plastic bags into ropes makes me uniquely valuable to a group of survivors but those items would remind of us of the civilization that we fight to regain. Besides, I am not a weaver. A weaver is who you really want in your survivors camp. They can make tartans and survivors could start their own tribes.

I would use my background in sociology and counseling to form healthy society. I would be therapy. I can work the garden, and even can the vegetables. More importantly, I can make vanilla and coffee flavored vodka.  Who wouldn't want me?
I probably should have mentioned my mood swings under Cons.  Eh. My moods swings will more than likely go unnoticed during a zombie outbreak.
I listed steel double pointed knitting needles as a weapon. Properly weighted and designed, they could be thrown into the eye of a zombie striking into the brain. I supposed aluminum crochet hooks could be weapons, but I have concerns that a zombie might take it from me and use it to scoop out my brains.
I think this is a good start for my zombie survival resume.