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Finished the fingerless mitts I was working on. Yay! Now I’m trying baby booties from a pattern I found here . I don’t know how useful baby booties actually are, except as a discreet way for female characters in old movies to indicate they are pregnant (which I’m not, btw - these are for adage1’s kid in September), but they sure are cute.
There have been more Things of Visual Interest in my neighborhood this last week. The BPB keeps wishing he had his camera on him. Some time on Monday or Tuesday we saw an airbrushed hearse, with a Hallowe’en-Mask bobbing head in the back window, and the license DEADWBT(dead wabbit?) Friday we talked to a guy with numerous tattoos and a red-tailed boa as we waited for the streetcar.
I love angst. Angsty angsty angst.
The BPB was not so reassured after my confession of two weeks ago as he’d thought, nor was I quite so over Nameless Crush as I’d thought (The BPB apparently dreamed about beating him up while dressed as Batman; the Crush was dressed as the cheesy Adam West Batman, and kept suffering very cartoonish injuries). Add to that the BPB’s disquieting new symptoms - bouts of glossalalia during which he can’t make himself understood by me - and two accidental knocks on the head he suffered this week; oh, and a heat wave that kept him semi-dehydrated the last few days.....Well, it’s been a slice.
He kept phasing in and out Friday night when we were out with (more or less by coincidence) Nameless Crush, so the poor bear kept waking up to find himself sitting at a café table, but unable to move or speak, and seeing me in rapt conversation with Nameless.
Even now that I’m (knock on wood) numbed to the Nameless charms, it seems I’m committing platonic adultery with him...and the kicker is, I don’t think the fellow has a clue as to the domestic turmoil he’s raised in the Mooncustafer household. I offered the BPB, as a show of good faith on my part, to write a formally-worded letter explaining the situation to Nameless so I can stop speaking to him without his wondering why, but was assured this wasn’t necessary (he’d calmed down by that point). Still, it’s bound to come up again. Sigh.
Meanwhile, the BPB keeps fussing over me like I’m deathly ill, or made of glass.
I was going to take up writing poetry again, but my inspiration seems to have shifted gears to writing a fic about The Shade/Giganta (JLA animated series versions). Hmmm. Well at least it’s probably not a pairing that’s been done to death.
There have been more Things of Visual Interest in my neighborhood this last week. The BPB keeps wishing he had his camera on him. Some time on Monday or Tuesday we saw an airbrushed hearse, with a Hallowe’en-Mask bobbing head in the back window, and the license DEADWBT(dead wabbit?) Friday we talked to a guy with numerous tattoos and a red-tailed boa as we waited for the streetcar.
I love angst. Angsty angsty angst.
The BPB was not so reassured after my confession of two weeks ago as he’d thought, nor was I quite so over Nameless Crush as I’d thought (The BPB apparently dreamed about beating him up while dressed as Batman; the Crush was dressed as the cheesy Adam West Batman, and kept suffering very cartoonish injuries). Add to that the BPB’s disquieting new symptoms - bouts of glossalalia during which he can’t make himself understood by me - and two accidental knocks on the head he suffered this week; oh, and a heat wave that kept him semi-dehydrated the last few days.....Well, it’s been a slice.
He kept phasing in and out Friday night when we were out with (more or less by coincidence) Nameless Crush, so the poor bear kept waking up to find himself sitting at a café table, but unable to move or speak, and seeing me in rapt conversation with Nameless.
Even now that I’m (knock on wood) numbed to the Nameless charms, it seems I’m committing platonic adultery with him...and the kicker is, I don’t think the fellow has a clue as to the domestic turmoil he’s raised in the Mooncustafer household. I offered the BPB, as a show of good faith on my part, to write a formally-worded letter explaining the situation to Nameless so I can stop speaking to him without his wondering why, but was assured this wasn’t necessary (he’d calmed down by that point). Still, it’s bound to come up again. Sigh.
Meanwhile, the BPB keeps fussing over me like I’m deathly ill, or made of glass.
I was going to take up writing poetry again, but my inspiration seems to have shifted gears to writing a fic about The Shade/Giganta (JLA animated series versions). Hmmm. Well at least it’s probably not a pairing that’s been done to death.
