About a dillion years ago, my Hubs’s cousin Jamie (the one who had the stroke + heart surgery + guest blogs on Thursdays, not the one that just had a baby) and I decided we would make scarves together slash apart. I live in Austin. She lives in Denton. We recently realized the other makes yarn art (that’s right, I said it) and we each needed a craft buddy. The goal was simple – follow a pattern. Simple says you. I had never followed a pattern before and Jame had thought she had. Her first attempt says otherwise. I thought I made improvements along the way and I’m not sure what happened. So the lesson is thus: If it’s finished, it’s perfect. And we finished!
I made three. One for EB, Hubs, and myself. Jamie made two. For her pups. Now she has to buy presents for her dogs that fills up the stockings. Ha-ha. And I need to make some damn money during the slow season at work to fill mine for humans that know what season it really is. Present season doesn’t care that people don’t want to get their landscapes done right now. Which is an endless cycle, since they’re not getting them done because they need to buy presents. Their present season eats my present season up and barfs it out like my dog that ate her own poop and threw it up – on my wedding day and in front of my entire family. That’s exactly what this is. Duna’s poo-vom. The slow season, not the following picture. That stocking still makes me laugh.
The night I finished my third and supposedly “quickest” stocking since I had already posted the pattern here and Jamie’s elephant foot here, My bro-in-law came over with his boys so we could watch movies while it rained. And yes, nature bit me in the ass for saying it was too warm. Yeah, yeah. I had to turn on the heater finally. So we watched Hook and Labyrinth. Amazing, both of them. But especially this scene:
How is that baby not scared from filming that scene?! And he looks like the baby on Dexter. Maybe he grew up to be Dexter after getting thrown around by David Bowie with bulging high-waisted pants and a gaggle of puppets that are almost threatening but never get around to actually doing any harm.
So while we were watching this fine example of cinematic pop culture from the 80’s featuring a musical icon with actual talent, this was going on:
Kissing cousins. That saying always creeped me out though. No really, EB went back and forth hugging and kissing the boys. It was so effing cute. Until she started beating them for no reason. It’s a real problem on which tomorrow should shed some light on how to not turn her into a future Dexter. Maybe the baby on Labyrinth used to hit his friends and the parents auditioned him for a freaky puppet movie to settle him down. Maybe he never hit anyone again! And that would solve my empty wallet problem. Make EB a show baby! A ShowEB! Childhood actors always turn out nice and balanced and their parents learn how to adjust to the surplus income with strategic moves for sustaining the future. Got it.
All I want for Christmas is all my billz paid y’all. Maybe Santa will put some lotto tickets in our stockings. Or write me a mortgage check and tuck that in there for some security.