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Points at random

 Got the points in - I actually followed the layout on the Pfaltzgrafina bodies, and from a physics standpoint, it works very well.

I'll have pictures after this weekend.

I'm mostly through my first knitted mitten - that's the thing I'm going to be working on at Maryland Sheeples and Woolies this weekend - and, like the socks, I pretty much looked at a picture and guessed.  They work surprisingly easily, even for me.  

You know, considering the economic status of late 16th century working men and women, it's a good thing that Elizabeth I didn't grant Alfonso Ribaldri* a Royal patent for his trained circus of knitting hedgehogs ("100 quills and a purl stitch!")**; a lot more people would have been out of a crappy poorly-paying job that barely paid the bills for a subsistence-level existence in the 16th century.***

I am more of a trained groundhog (short and round, with big pointy claws), but I can still wield a mean knitting needle.

Speaking of groundhogs, last Thursday I saw one half-way up a tree, reaching out for the tender little shoots on the ends of the branches.  His tail was waggling a lot as he tried to keep balance.  

Arboreal groundhogs.  Gotta love 'em.

(Until they fall on your head.)

We're going to see Eddie Izzard tonight - hopefully I won't be farted on, crushed in my seat, or called a "raging c-word" this time.  

Yeah I think that's it.  Gotta go do actual work now.  Mmmm-hmmmm.

*William Lee.
**a knitting machine.
***no, that part's actually true.

Comments

attack_laurel
May. 1st, 2008 03:21 pm (UTC)
Yup - the last time I saw Eddie Izzard, I got crushed by a man who felt that my seat should be his too (after all, I didn't fill it to overflowing; what would I need with all that space?), then, when I switched seats with Bob at the intermission, the man on the other side kept lifting up his butt and farting - through the entire rest of the show (in that "I have really bad gas, so I'm going to shift uncomfortably and pretend I'm not farting, just shifting in my seat" kind of way).

I got called the c-word by a girl (I cannot dignify her by calling her a grown-up) who talked through the entire first half of "Spamalot" - wuoting lines from the movie, talking with her "date", etc., despite repeated attempts by Bob and me to shush her. As the second half started, she was talking at full volume, so I turned around and said "please stop talking now!". She shut up for a second, then leaned close and said "don't be such a raging cunt".

Next time, I swear, I'm bringing a squirt bottle. If they can't be polite, I'm treating them like small puppies that have not been house trained.
ciorstan
May. 1st, 2008 05:46 pm (UTC)
As the second half started, she was talking at full volume, so I turned around and said "please stop talking now!". She shut up for a second, then leaned close and said "don't be such a raging cunt".

Ah, yes-- the righteous anger of the completely-in-the-wrong.

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