Potato Chip Scarf Ickiness

I tried. I started a potato chip scarf and finished it. It's....well...it's trendy and my niece loves it. Binding off took one whole day. My hand is cramped and to be honest, I won't be doing it again. When you have to take Tylenol after knitting, it's not a good pattern for you.



Ray is modeling it. She is not actually hanging herself. It's her impersonation of a Vanna White model.

Wesley wanted to be in the picture but he didn't want to model the scarf so here he is with Ray.



Sweet pie kids? Well, most of the time but they're mine so I'll keep them.

Have a Safe and Hangover Free New Year!

Mid-week Warning: Don't drink cheap wine from Walmart and then chase it with Zima!

Weekly Warning 12/28/08

"Nothing says Merry Christmas like a headless Joseph and a giftless Magi."

Some highlights from a Hissyknit Christmas:

All I can say is "Thank God" the Nativity stable and resin statues are from Rite Aid. Wesley decapitated poor Joseph, Baby Jesus has a chip on his shoulder (literally) and one of the Magi is missing his gift. Regan put her Optimus Prime action figure on top because "he beat the angel". Miley Cyrus' tacky little coat from Ray's Hannah Montana doll covered the sheep.

Regan poured Diet Dr. Pepper in our tree's water basin because I said it looked droopy. A line of ants infiltrated the Star Trek "Q" ornament because he was too close to the basin of Dr. Pepper. Some omnipotent being--he didn't know ants were attracted to sugar.

During Christmas Eve Mass, our priest made the mistake of giving porcelain bells to my children to ring during a specific part of Mass. I'm sure the nervous tic above his eye isn't permanent.

Peppermint candy canes do not freshen a Collie's breath contrary to Zack's attempt to do so.

Vanilla foot lotion causes chapped feet as the Aussie licks off any application of it.

Smoked ham thrown on the floor during a fit is an effective way to cause Mommy to slip on her tailbone.

There's more but the glue between Joseph's head and torso is dried and Regan is finished coloring Jesus' shoulder with a Sharpie--it looks like a rather large birthmark or giant bug on Him. I'm off to get a head start on my New Year's Eve celebration.

PS--I wouldn't trade my Christmases for a million bucks.

Merry Christmas and all that jazz...

I will be out of the loop for the next few days. But I wanted to wish everyone a safe and joyous Christmas (Hanukkah or Kwanzaa or Festivus or whatever holiday you celebrate.)

After Christmas, I'm sure to have new weekly warnings--after all, both kids are getting scooters, little magnetic toys, assorted action figures as well as enough chocolate to choke a chicken.

I'm off to bake Kolaches, sausage balls and Santa's chocolate chip cookies.

Weekly Warning 12/21/08

Try to change the subject when discussing Santa's unmentionables.

It was a normal day. I was driving the kids to school and for once, Regan and Wesley were not bickering. I was singing Christmas carols off key.

Out of the blue, Wesley asks and I quote, "What kind of underwear does Santa wear?"

I immediately stopped warbling out "Silent Night" and froze like a possum caught in our backyard by an enormous Collie. Why did he ask? What did he ask? Why does he need to know?

Of course, Regan blurts out, "Why, Bubbie?"

In a strange logic, Wesley explained that he was worried about Santa getting a wedgie coming down our chimney. Our fireplace is not huge so I guess it was an appropriate question.

"Cause if he wears boxers, he'd really get wedgied." Wesley points out as Regan nods in agreement. "If he wears Ben Ten briefs, he could slide down easier but all the soot would make his underwear dirty. And bleaching Ben Ten makes it pink."

Wesley continues to enumerate the pros and cons of elf lingerie when I mutter under my breath, "I think he must wear a thong." (Insert ick factor--large older gentleman wearing a thong.)

Of course, Regan's keen hearing picks up Mommy's inside joke and ponders it. I knew she had no clue what a thong was but she says, "Yeah, a thong." Only, with her little speech lisp, it comes out "Bong". Santa smoking illegal substances is another thing I don't want to think about.

By this time, we arrive at the school and a very nice, very young, very new teacher opens the door for Regan who yells out, "SANTA USES A BONG."

So to dispell rumors, I laughingly tell the new teacher that I am just the carpool driver and I have no idea what those parents are teaching. Jeez, these parents today.

Weekly Warning 12/7/08

Bind your children in straight jackets when shopping in a jam shop.

My mother loves preserves and jams. Every Christmas I mail her a couple of jars from the Stone Mountain Pecan Company down the road from my house. Every year I get threatened with a restraining order because my children accompany me when I buy the jellies.

My mere $19.97 bill triples because Regan decides to open two packages of chocolate covered cherries and Wesley manhandles the pralines. Or they bicker over whether or not Mother prefers the pecan peach butter or the blackberry preserves. This usually ends in a glob of jelly and broken glass on the floor because Regan pushes Wesley into the barrel of fruit cake which causes a domino effect onto the jelly.

Next year Mother is getting flowers.