1. I'm back! Did you miss me? Yesterday (now the day before, since the writing of this post spilled over into Saturday) was the last day of the thing that was eating all my brain cells. I am looking forward to returning to the Land of the Brain-Celled. Ooooohhhh, in the middle of this first take I am being summoned to read Emeraldalicious. Don't tell my daughter, but Emeraldalicious might get disappeared when no one is watching. It's one of those books that cries out for some accompanying knitting, because paying close attention to the book itself pains me.
2. My daughter is really good at rediscovering and re-homing things that get disappeared, though.
3. I am knitting the Craziest Pajamas In The History Of The World. They make me chortle with glee. I have always loved loud pants and these are SO SO SO SO loud that they merit even more caps than I have accorded them. I will have to decide whether I can really model them for the internet (if I would not appear in public in leggings, that picture probably doesn't belong on the blog), but while I'm thinking about it you can take my word for it: if you take all of your worsted scraps and turn them into a pair of Elizabeth Zimmermann Nether Garments, you might just find that you're having a blast. In contrast to the ones in that picture, mine have big splashy motifs: a huge flower across the behind, a giant X in the exact shade of Kraft macaroni and cheese. (It was going to be a star, except I started at the wrong end of the chart and decided to mirror the first half instead of ripping. Who cares? They're pajamas!)
4. Remember when I posted bravely about how I don't mind the occasional critter in my CSA vegetables? About how conventionally raised produce should be conspicuous for its shortage of six-legged friends? Well, my friends, I have been eating those words. (I hope words are the only things spelled wor_s that I have been eating.) We got a boatload of broccoli from our CSA, and it was TEEMING with green worms. I must have pulled off two dozen of them and I refuse to think about what...might have happened to their siblings. (I know I know I know it's very first-world-y of me, but the thought of accidentally eating worms makes me a little queasy.) I envision a little blinky sign above the broccoli patch, spelling it out in cabbage butterfly language: "Discount rooms by the hour! Come and make sweet broccoli-scented love!"
5. I had been feeling gloomy about my class, grumbling in advance because I didn't think it would go well. It's hard on both students and instructor to compress a semester into three weeks. But my students were troupers, almost to a woman. (We will not pay too much attention to the student who said, in her final reflection, "I don't care what the research says. I disagree.") One of them wrote a glowing email to the chair in which she said, "I've spent five years at this institution and this was by far the best class I've ever taken," and continued enthusiastically from there.
6. I would be a little embarrassed to admit the number of times I have reread that email.
7. And now: I finish the grading and clean my house. Over and out.