sorry, sorry, yes I've been a flake about blogging. I got a wild hair - yes, we knitters are a craaaaazy bunch - and suddenly decided that I need to make a sweater for my friend Gabriele's baby. The baby is due on Tuesday, and I cannot in good conscience hope that s/he comes late, because both my babies were late, and the days between the due date and the actual birth? Hell. On. Earth. So my only alternative is to knit like the wind! Which keeps my hands too busy for typing.
Also too busy for folding laundry, which explains the four loads on the couch. Also I've done some rearranging: moved my office from our bedroom down to the living room; totally upset the basement to make room for a guy to come and install a radiator, and of course I can't just put it back the way it was, no I have to be Martha Stewart and take the opportunity to ORGANIZE IT! Kids' rooms=mess. Both of them are suddenly outgrowing and/or trashing all their clothes. I found 9 pairs of Ignatz's jeans which I put in my sewing basket and ignored for so long that if I get them patched soon they will fit the Sniglet. They're on the steps waiting to be taken to the Sewing-Lady, because we've already established that even though there is no reason I can't do it myself, I won't actually do it.
And by the way? The house has to be spotless in time for DrBob's 40th birthday, which is, oh, the day after tomorrow. Shoot me now.
Song du jour of the day: Sala Keba, by Papa Wemba. Great percussion, very cheerful. "Sala Keba" apparently means "Be Careful", that's all I know. But it makes me happy.
Oh, and I got the tickets. Woot! Hm, actually, you probably can't say Woot at a Sisters of Mercy concert. Gee, I better go make sure I have enough eyeliner.