Pretending to Farm

Whiskers on Kittens

Last night, as I sat down to begin spinning Leroy No-Longer-Brown’s fleece, I found that, not only did it look like it had a lot of VM in it for fleece that had been professionally processed, it in fact did. After losing a few tedious hours to picking out every little scrap of hay, burr, and leaf, I decided to abandon my spinning for the night and haul out the drum carder this morning to re-process it.
This is not one of my favorite things. In fact, it’s exponentially more boring than watching grass grow and, if I didn’t have my trusty iPod, the littered fleece would take many moons to get through.

To counteract the fact that a good portion of my day has been devoted to do something very un-favorite, I thought I would list some of my favorite things, despite the absence of Julie Andrews and/or a highly-desired thunderstorm. So here goes (I’ve limited myself to three of each)…

Favorite Books:

Pride and Prejudice
Jane Eyre
The Secret Life of Bees

Favorite Movies:

Ghostbusters (I know but I could watch it over and over.)
Chicago
Pride and Prejudice (BBC version with Colin Firth)

Favorite Blogs:

Confessions of a Pioneer Woman
The Yarn Harlot
The Panopticon

Favorite Blogs by People I Know (Cyberly):

Chocolate Sheep
Boulderneigh
Sheep Thrills Farm

Favorite Podcasts:

Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me
Sticks and String
Cast On

Favorite Television Shows:
The Office
The Daily Show with Jon Stewart
Iron Chef America

There. I feel a little more balanced. I could have listed a lot more, particularly on the blogs and podcasts but I wouldn’t want to go too far in the favorite direction and feel all giddy while I drum card. I have my emotional, funk-prone reputation to keep up, you know.

By the way, there will be no blog post tomorrow as we go spend half the day at the dentist and then celebrate Jessica's 18th birthday together, as one happy (do you hear me, my offspring?!) family, even if it kills us all.

Post #100!

Here it is, the afternoon after a fabulous afternoon of doing exactly what I wanted.  The Guinness was full of creamy goodness, the bar food was greasy and filling (I had to ask for celery sticks after the nutritious week I had just to tolerate it), and the movie was as campy and fun as I expected it to be.  (Thank you to Teresa who sent me a very funny email from Samuel L. Jackson via her.  I’d take her to the movie if she was here.)  I can honestly say I had a great time.

First an opinion from "The Onion":

Alyssa Kornbluth,
Volleyball Coach
"Cool. What's it about?"

Snakes on a Plane!  I loved it! Part 70’s disaster flick, part “B” horror movie, it delivered ridiculous scene after ridiculous scene, and kept me laughing out loud.  A large crowd of late teens/early twenty-somethings filled the seats in front of us and added to the party atmosphere with intermittent cheers and screams.  When Samuel L. Jackson delivered the now-famous 12 letter word-filled phrase, people throughout the theatre clapped.  My favorite line?  “If we don’t get this plane under control, it’s going down faster than a Thai hooker!”  If someone was looking for meaning and depth, they were in the wrong movie, but if you are looking for good, dirty, gory fun, this is the diversion for you.

Now, after visiting the restroom in the theater twice, and once this morning in Costco, I have decided that all automatic flushing toilets have to be destroyed.  I know how they are supposed to work.  After completing one’s business, rising from the throne and reassembling one’s garments, it will flush away what you left behind, leaving a gleaming cauldron of porcelain for the next user.  However, in my experience, this is not what happens.  Either the mechanism does not seem to know the job is finished leading to ridiculous arm waving and butt shaking on my part, followed by me partially exiting the stall and peaking around to see if said toilet is flushing or the damned thing flushes continuously before the task is complete, delivering the rather unsettling feeling of a strong wet wind blowing through parts unmentionable.  I would think this is a particularly strange sensation for a man.  He could be wondering if things might get sucked down the drain.  It could happen, you know.  If a snake can come up through a toilet and bite a man on the (well, you’ll have to watch the movie and see for yourselves) then the opposite could surely happen.  In conclusion, Automatic Toilets Must Die.  There, I have said my peace.  Now go to the movies and have some fun.