Arms and the Tiger

I have two bodies and assorted limbs. I shall be Doctoressa Frankenstein (alas no Lightning, but ve do not need any stinking lightning) and attempt to bring my creations to seams if not life.

Life? Bad idea. Remember that Karen Black film, "Trilogy of Terror"? The third part where the woman was gifted with a spirit doll who possessed a very pointy knife? *shudder*

Seams good; life, not so good.

***CV

extra, extra

Pi update: after a very scary moment at NW wools when I thought they had run out of the opal I needed, it was discovered hiding in their backstock. So Pi is done, well the body, and Richard Parker has been begun.

Conjurer's Bird update: Finished last night. Both sweet and sad.

Book purchase update: The Story of Stone, by N.M. Browne; Blue, by Lois Lowry; Whispers From the Cotton Tree Root, edited by Nalo Hopkinson. The last is a collection of modern Caribbean fabulist tales.

And really odd, but, as I was browsing the Scifi section (curse peolple who ink mark in their books then resell them to an unsuspecting public) another customer was too (ok not odd but) when I went to YA he appeared soon after and when I went to Textiles he was there again. Aaah! Go away! You are so freaking me out!!

Tattoo update: in certain cultures women had their hands tattooed when they became engaged and then their husbands tattoed the brides face on their wedding night. In other cultures the chief would pay for all the male youth to be tattooed the same time as his son so they could all "share the love". This would be the culture in which the term trouser tattoos would be applicable. Feel free to draw your own conclusions.

***CV

Con, Edward and now Joseph Banks...

Mailed my swap package off this early afternoon (I loooove breaks 'cause then I can indulge my sleep until noon habit ). Then off I went to Lint to knit and read. I knew if I stayed anywhere near my laptop I would not be very productive. While there I picked up some 6inch 1.5 DPNs, we will not discuss anyhting else I may or may not have purchased.

I am really enjoying the Conjurer's Bird :)

Pi is almost done and tomorrow I will be somewhere where they have Opal tiger striping yarn so I may pick up some more.

I think I may have stunned Chris with the concept of a shelf dedicated to Defoe - I'm not sure.

Stephanie I have an "anklet" connected by a lotus which ranges from 0.5 to 1.5 inches in green purple pink and gold. The artist made it in one sitting: outline and colour. I love it. In our conversation he said he would love to do the next one but I think I'll wait for a full back later :)

Interesting fact in the book I purchased says that many girls got chin tattoos because it was supposed to prevent wrinkles. Oh really? And if you see your grandmother with chin tattoos and she's wrinkled: are you really going to belive what you're being told? Or was granny tattooed ineffectually and this time it will really work?

***CV

Tattoo Pi

Aaargh! I haven't started my Pi project. Well, that's not quite true. I have just over an inch done so 12 inches to go and the embroidery and the stuffing and the sewing.

Blame it on the tigers comrade, that's what I'll do. Until that one is done I have no color for Richard Parker.....well, that doesn't work 'cause I can start with the Piscine part, can't I just? So I did. Et voila une inch c'est compleat.

I'm wondering about the garment though. Should I do a dhoti? A tiger in a dhoti might be considered dotty.... hmmmm. I could do something bluish (Oh now I have a Meanie in my mind: "Are you bluish?" *poke poke*" You don't look bluish.")

Went to Powell's the other day to pick up the next KTC read and ended up with not only Moll Flanders (my, there are certainly some risque covers out there), but The Storm also by DeFoe, and Yarns to Dye For. I then went back today for, The Conjurer's Bird by Martin Davies (reminds me of a Dashell Hammet) and The World of Tattoo.

The last is more research for my melodrama character (one of the three, she's handy with needles :)

While looking at the Defoe shelf (Why yes there is an entire shelf dedicated to Defoe. Don't all bookstores do the same?) I came across a volume entitled Colonol Jack. The scene I flipped to had the hero - who has become an indentured servant in Virgnia, answering the door to a young lady. Apparently she knows he's the only one t'home but pretends other wise. It eventually ends up in, as Jack says: spending a goodly part of an Hour in which She displayed her Great Wit and I the Poverty of mine.

It's a miracle I didn't buy the book on the spot.

***CV

Poetry Monday

Damp Patio

The spiders

were crawling on the laurels.

Chance

is turning into snow,

and the sleeping years

now venture

to set up the looms

of always.

Quietude, turned into a sphinx,

laughs at Death,

which sings gloomily

in a group

of distant cypresses.

The ivy, full of drops,

carpets the walls,

which are steeped in archaic

Misereres.

O ancient tower!

Weep

your Moorish-style tears

onto this solemn patio

that has no fountain.

The spiders

were crawling on the laurels.

F.G. Lorca

***CV

Victorian Vampire

I can't remember exactly how old I was when I first became fascinated with Jack the Ripper. I think I was about 12 or 13. I had already gone through my Salem witches and inquisition phase, a dip into aeronautics and then Jack. I can't even recall what inspired it.

Considering what a shy and demure child I was then - though I did check out Mein Kamf, I suppose my parents let the stalker fascination pass in hopes of, I dunno, strengthing my assertiveness?

Yeah: Back off Jack!

It led into all kinds of other avenues of investigation though: Malthus, Christopher Wren, Free Masonry, Industrial Revolution, Child Labour....

What brings up this memory is a recent disagreement about Dracula which was written nearly 20 years after the Ripper terrorized London. See, I was pondering the reaction to my pointing out that Drac was a Victorian novel not a romantic one; and then I began to wonder why some consider it romantic (ummm an emaciated corpse with overgrown fingernails, smelling of rotton fungi and bad dental work coming to neck with a beautiful girl is romantic??) and others not.

So I would like to open a discussion. I feel Dracula fits in more with Victorian novels for what it represents of the Victorian nature:

Antithesis: Dracula and his environment - an ancient village full of superstitious people living in fear of a decaying castle's long undead proprieter, represents all that Victorian prudery, OC scientific classification and modernisation despise.

Synthesis: The heroine in her self sacrifice represents the Victorian ideal of virtue - and thankfully she dies so we don't have to deal with her behavior later.

I can see a romantic aspect in the descriptions of the moldering environs but those descriptions are not the soul of the story which I believe any true Romantic gothic book demands (I would consider Poe more of a romantic then Stoker).

*****

Chris, I am turning the heel. Aren't you proud? :)

***CV

noticias

Ministry, Sigur Ros and the Decemberists are coming - three groups that are so alike ;)

Speaking of ironic statements, I was browsing myspace groups last night and came across a grammar site which was so laden with irony one could smell the rust.

****

If you haven't read Geoffrey Chaucer Hath a Blog yet - why haven't you?

****

Ever have one of those meetings with a supervisor which is billed as a discussion but ends up as a one sided ramble? I'm really looking forward to one of those tommorrow *sigh* Maybe it will be a discussion.

****

I'm going to read the Lais of Marie de France now. And perhaps finish the tiger's companion.

***CV

In the temple of love II

For posterity.

Last night began as any typical, I'm going to see a live band does with a complete and total emptying of the closet. Last night it was all about the shoes. Some nights it's all about the coat, or the top or the skirt or the bag. But last night? It was the shoes. So ,after narrowing down ten outfits to a possible two I could worry about other stuff.

Like, where is this place I'm supposed to be?

Look it up? Pshaw. I'm sure it's the same venue where I saw Bauhaus. So dolled up out I go: into the rain. Feh! Back up to get an umbrella. Back down to: no rain. Look, I'm already well into the opening act's time so I start walking.

Kinda nice being out in the Night time again. Until I get to the questionable area and am hit upon: You talkin' to me? I know you are not talking to me. I can cut through you better than a grand duchess ices a ne'er do well at a debutante ball.

So I get to the venue but, hmmmm this doesn't seem right. For one thing the place name on the sign and the one on my ticket don't match. Big clue. So I go in (ain't no way my gothed up self is hangin' out on Crack Corner). I wait as security checks three bags then ask, " Do you know where such and such is?" Security don't know but a patron does so I set off to walk back the way I came - in my 4 inch shoes.

See - it's all about the shoes.

I make it. Have a great conversation with a Gaelic accented shirt vendor about drinking barriers - he had none, and then got completely dry iced by the Sisters of Mercy. But it was so much fun.
Now, I have been to many venues where scuffles have broken out and audiences tend to react differently. Some make a circle to give the brawlers space to continue; others try to break it up; others ignore it: oh dear some mysterious fist came out and hit me, wonder what that was really, perhaps the drinks are that strong?

Last night was amazing. When a fight started one person pressed through the crowd immediately to find security and all the other patrons around the two fighters intantly shot up arms and pointed at them. No ifs, ands, or buts. It is you two and we want you gone and we're not only telling we're showing. Fabulous!

A fellow patron commented on how there no one was moving during the show. No dancing around. I don't know if that is because all the people who have made it up front are afraid to lose their place or they can't dance. I have always loved the GA floor section because it was the dancing section: not anymore apparently.

Oh, and different venues have different facilities (the ladies know what I mean). Some are gender segregated, some are not and some try to be but fail miserably. So this place was clearly delineated but, the one I visited was like entering a haunted house hallway. Completely panneled and any panel might be a door or might not. You only found out when one opened into you. I was willing to play the Price is Right; so that if you were by the door that opened you won the prize; but everyone else seemed to prefer the first come first served rule *shrug*

So, yeah, the show ended about 12:30 and I wanted a souvenier only the ATM wasn't in service so I had to leave the building, after making sure I could get back in, cut a line waiting to get into a bar, give up my ID to the door check so I could use their ATM, reclaim my ID, return to the venue and (as a venue crew member said "hope they're still set up") climb 4 flights of stairs to a fully house lit room and disturb the vendor as he has already taken down and is packing up all his wares.

S'okay. As the vendor said: Brilliant! Y'made it back!

I love live band shows :) And oddly enough, I realised lately I have more fun when I go solo then in a group :) ***CV

In the temple of love

some day ..... some day...... some day......: DOMINION!

gotta love a band that has songs named after you :) ***CV

Butterfly on a wheel

I do adore Nathaniel Hawthorne but, there are times when, he can become a mite precious. The thought of an ancient King teaching his children their A B C..... *wince* Of cource Mr. Hawthorne is the author of a book entitled the Marble Faun which I have mentioned elsewhere.

***

One ( 1 , uno, ichi, une) more day: SoM

***

I recently picked up a copy of Richard Rutte's (sic?, and yes I am too lazy to walk into another room and check; I'll update later) book, a History of Handknitting. I have seen it for a while but the price always encouraged putting back not purchasing. There is a story that I am working on ,however, (remember the bad melodrama?) in which one of the characters was raised in the Lake District and knits. I had presumed that ye olde knitters used steel needles esp. DPNs but then I thought I had better check. Sure enough!

***

I was talking with a friend today about a project he was working on and he was becoming very excited: "I can build (part) over summer break and show it in the fall!" Has he not been told that he might not be returning here next year but going somewhere else, yet?

A parent recently commented that this time of year must be very hard; Not knowing who will be with you next year and who will not.

It is.

***CV

guilding

Arachne spun a golden thread

a sticky floss too fine

tis said

to bind or wind or lead.

yet

someone

skeined then wound

this golden ball

unravelling down

through twisted hall

and

brought floating high

into the air

a chariots wheel

a bit of glare

the sun's a copper penny

someone said

but I forget who spun that thread

***CV

'Tis Greek to Me

Is it just me, or does Nathanial Hawthorne's version of, The Dragon's Teeth (in which Europa is stolen away by a white bull), eerily resemble the story of the three little pigs?

I'm just glad that his version of the Golden Fleece ends with Jason leaving Colchis before Medea makes an ocean stew of her kin. Though, after reading Euripedes' version I just can't find any sympathy for Jason regardless of his one bare foot.

So, a group of three and I are using Chaucer as a means of figuring out how not to spell.

***CV

Lady day

Spring. Persephone and Hades. A mother and a boy made vengeful for being spurned. I find this poem appropriate:

Oriental Song

The fragrant pomegranate

is a crystallized sky.

(Each seed is a star,

each membrane is a sunset.)

A dry sky, compressed

by the talon of the years.

....

It is a minature beehive

with blood-red honeycombs,

since its bees shaped it

out of women's mouths.

Therefore, when it bursts open it laughs

with the purple of a thousand lips.

The pomegranate is a heart

beating upon the sown land,

a scornful heart

where the birds don't peck,

a heart which on the outside

is as hard as a human being's,

but which gives to him who pierces it

the fragrance and blood of May.

The pomegranate is the treasure

of the old gnome in the meadow,

the one who spoke to young Rosa

in the lonely forest,

the one with the white beard

and the red costume.

It's the treasure still guarded

by the tree's green leaves.

A coffer of precious stones

in a womb of vague gold.

...

F.G.Lorca

gracias a ti

Dear Commentator,

Thank you so much for taking time out of your busy day to stop and leave a comment. I especially appreciate your kind remark regarding some of my "right on target perceptions in spite of my wildly off base ones". And, while I respect that others may consider your message to be spam (though I found nothing meaty or pink within it); this may be due to the slight tangential references of reasonable payment options interspersed with yoga and baby clothes; I believe you mean it when you claim it not to be.

Perhaps it is me. My perceptions, as you thoughtfully remarked, can at times be wildly off base.

One question. How was my post, Bengal dreams, at all related to L.A.'s latest rolex wearing, rolls royce driving, sweat franchising, guru?

It was most kind of you to stop by.

santih,
***CV

In other news I finished, Fire and Hemlock, today. If you like revisions of ballads this is highly reccomended.

Hello my old friend

I have been visiting a goth site lately. One way I know I've been visiting or participating in a place too long is when it starts occurring in my dreams. Wow! Candy coloured creatures in a dark and stormy university setting. Very non oxford university though, instead, very mid seventies warehouse and palm tree oriented. Lots of concrete and glass high rise buildings in an L.A. style.

I think what is the most odd is that all my architectural dream motifs are related to similar images from childhood. I did not grow up in L.A. though we visited frequently. And in fact are places I've imagined since a child but didn't actually see - or have not yet seen - until later in life.

During one of my yoga training meetings our teacher was discussing the difference between reality and being present, according to the Sutras of Patanjali. When I brought up my extremely vivid lucid dreaming and how so often these images later manifested he looked at me and said:

You are not in reality.

Okaaay. But I know when it is a dream state and I know when it is real.

He shook his head.

It is not real.

*Shrug*I guess my old friend is called Maya :)

***

On other fronts I am finally reading, Fire and Hemlock, by Dianna Wynne Jones. ***CV

Dear Mr. Freud

hahahahaha! Thanks carrie :) This may explain the week I've been having.

ConsiderateCreator

***CV

Why ide.....

So far this week has been...let's just say it is so fun to rip each day off a daily calendar :} Today I decided to check my mail, I refused to do so yesterday. Oh look: a bill, an advertisement (toss), a coupon booklet (toss), a catalog (flipflip) and...

Thank you Mystery Swapper!

Animal rubberbands, oh my! Too cute to use :) And I was so looking for something to plant in class. I even brought my recycled containers in today. Morninglories yay! Also, I do live by post its lately - no stringed fingers for me. I had a friend who used to tape notes to her forehead until she got home so she wouldn't forget important things (you see sanity is not important and vastly overrated), so the "acorns" will be very handy. I've not tried Ritter Sports before (cappucino for the curious) now I have the chance. Thank you!

I also received the basic pattern for my Life of Pi project. I will be making a topsyturvy doll one part Pi and one part Richard Parker: wish me luck :) ***CV

a la mode

For those who didn't know today was Pi day. Yes a day in honor of 3.14.......not David Lynch and his series Twin Peaks (oh now I've gone and dated myself :) Does anyone else enjoy Juliee Cruise's voice? I think she's fabulous.

So, it's a disease: I know it and I freely admit it. A tiger barely finished, a flamingo and a ladybug in the wings, not to mention the other 20 or so skeins breeding like (dust) bunnies and I have to go get a chameleon. Ah well. Blame it on stress.

......

But she stays with her flowers

While above in the breeze

The light keeps playing chess

Over the jalousies.

F.G. Lorca

***CV

El concierto interrumpido

For Poetry Monday : the Ides are near

The Interrupted Concert

The harmony

of the deep night has been cut short

by the icy, drowsy fermata

of the half moon.

The irrigation channels protest in muffled tones,

blanketed as they are by rushes,

and the frogs, muezzins of the dark,

have fallen silent.

In the old village tavern

the sad music has stopped,

and the most ancient star

has muted its hurdy-gurdy.

The wind has settled in the hollows

of the dark mountain,

and a solitary black-poplar, the Pythagoras

of the chaste plain,

is trying, with its age-old hand,

to slap the moon in the face.

F.G. Lorca

****CV

dix dias

So now begins the two week count down to Spring Break. As I do not include weekends that is ten days. Two weeks.

Lessee, that will involve the River of Life .....and Saint Patrick is usually good for a week: if we divide it into illumination, mapmaking, boat building, and myth busting.

I somewhat like the thought of introducing the River of Life simultaneous to St. Patrick because there is so much in celtic mythology that involves crossing a river of blood - which could be seen as crossing the boundry of womb to world as well as from the realm of phaerie to the plane of mortals. And considering we just ended our traipse through medieval times, we have the relationship between the crosier and the shamrock's shape, and thus the pagan with the christian.

However, I will probably emphasise Patrick this week, and nod towards the River, perhaps stained glass windows of his story: the son of a Roman official kidnapped by Irish raiders, and Patrick's running away from the local chieftan, and his later return no longer as a shepherd of animals but of people. We could even do illuminated manuscripts with a line of story and heavy illustration, a book of hours or seasons for the gardeners and knitters...hmmmm must find the gold and silver pens.

BTW Patrick or Padraic supposedly spoke terrible Latin. His grammar is apparently nearly indecipherable.

10 days*****CV

edited: before I took the Icoso Hedal ball class I went through my fingering weight stash -OMG - I could replace every pair of socks in my drawer twice over with what I have. This is so not OK.

River

I spent the morning knitting triangles and then wandered into the poetry section of a local shop and found a copy of Gypsy Ballads by Garcia Lorca. I've been looking for a copy of this work for the past ten years. Today I found it by chance.

In the afternoon I sat in a cafe colouring pictures. Now one might think that colouring is a relaxing activity. I would agree, except, that as part of my training to be a guide I had to colour 150, 28 x 20 inch charts - in coloured pencil, as well as six, 6+ foot timelines.

Needless to say, afer that, colouring is considered a task not a relaxation.

I now need to find some chicken bones and hydrochloric acid.

***CV

How now brown cow

Ever have one of those days when you're the boss so you have to be bossy, in fact it's expected by your boss, but being bossy don't suit (and really, I don't like being bossy at all) so you try not to be bossy and end up either doing all the work, thus bossing yourself, to avoid being perceived as bossy towards others, or feeling terribly rude, in a bossy way, because you're bossily telling someone that you expect them to do their job, because you're their boss, not when they feel like it but now.

Moo.

Think I'll go kick a bucket in a burning barn now. Or read some G. Stein.

***CV

030906

soft silent floating feathers of crystal

settle serenely

flimsily filling crevices quickly erased

effaced

effectively eliminating elegant boundaries

merging all

into one

bundle

of awed delight

It snowed today ***CV

tigre

The Gold of the Tigers

Up to the moment of the yellow sunset,

how many times will I have cast my eyes on

the sinewy-bodied tiger of Bengal

to-ing and fro-ing on its paced out path

behind the labyrinthine iron bars,

never suspecting them to be a prison.

Afterwards other tigers will appear:

the blazing tiger of Blake, burning bright;

......

Oh sunsets, O tigers, O wonders

of myth and epic,

......

J. L. Borges

#2 begun. And Hikaru no Go is in stock - finally:)***CV

A character

I am having sooo much fun as a moderator/ character writer! I don't care if its melodramatic. I don't care if I can't wait until someone comes and slaps one of the characters upside the head.

We got love, we got mysterious letters, we got german lietenants in love with New Holland bound english girls. We got bad spelling and creative punctuation and a few pirates thrown in for good measure.

Here's a sample: Edouard du Lac (gotta love the name) has been prisoner on board a ship for several days, thus playing havoc with his wardrobe, and has just been let go - seemingly of his own will:

Running his tongue along his teeth - distasteful - Edouard considered his options for a meal. Most of the local houses were rather unfriendly lately and.....wait a minute. He halted.

For the first time since leaving the ship Edouard really saw what was around him. Trembling with fury he spun around in time to see the ship leaving with the early tide and the faint outline of a familiar figure sillouetted against its rail. Edouard would have smashed his walking stick against the nearest piling - but it was gone too. Clenching his fists and jamming them into his pockets he seethed to the piling instead and leaning against it began once more to weigh his options.

Hah! Options. In a place he didn't recognise? Blast and double blast! What heathen locale had he been deopisited upon?

It was then that he felt a packet in his pocket.

****

Withdrawing the packet and turning it to read his name scrawled across one side, Edouard grinned coldly. She might be a fine captain but penmanship was a skill she definitely lacked. His grin faded as he took in the seal on the other side. Oh lord.

"Ho there! Look where y'be standin or y'won't be no more, f'r all y'r fine looks!"

Still somewhat dazed Edouard didn't respond as he typically would have, with some scathing commentary regarding the "heathen's" ability to speak English let alone recognize breeding when "it" saw it.

Oh ho! The creature had spoken English, or rather yankee. His upper lip curled in a slight sneer which he quickly replaced with a look of vague confusion.

"I say, I am most terribly sorry." Edouard laid it on thick. Act the bumbling Englishman and who knew what sorts of things he would discover. " You wouldn't happen to know where I might find something to eat at this hour, would you?"

Eyeing him consideringly the man shrugged and gestured. "Y' might find what y'r lookin' f'r in that direction," the man chuckled. "If y'r lookin' f'r what I think y' ar'." He winked suggestively before turning back to his work.

'Oaf!' Edouard thought. "My thanks", he said aloud, before setting off in the general direction indicated by the creature.

****

Oh it's sooo bad isn't it? :) Lol! I think we're ready for late night radio***CV

Lunes Lyrica

Winter to spring to winter and back. At this time of year it's hard to tell what is coming or if anything is leaving. Almost as if Persephone grown comfortable with routine hesitates to leave her dark abode. This is for Poetry Monday

Beppo

The celibate white cat surveys himself

in the mirror's clear eyed glass,

not suspecting that the whiteness facing him

and those gold eyes that he's not seen before

in ramblings through the house are his own likeness.

Who is to tell him the cat observing him

is only the mirror's way of dreaming?

I remind myself that these concordant cats-

the one of glass, the one with warm blood coursing-

are both mere simulacra granted time

by a timeless archetype. In the Enneads

Plotinus, himself a shade, has said as much.

Of what Adam predating paradise,

of what inscrutable divinity

are all of us a broken mirror-image?

Jorge L. Borges

Final Solution

CV: Ground Control? We have reached heel and we have reached toe. Over.

GC: Good job. Over.

CV: Not yet over. Do we dance with Krsna or the Tiger? Over.

GC: .........If you're going to dance ask Major Tom. Over.

****CV

Everywhen

Eeney meeney miney mo

catch a tiger by the toe

if he hollers let him go

eeney meeney miney mo

So I had to let it go.

***

In other news I was made moderator of a forum I participate in - oh gosh really, like they would make you a moderator of a forum you didn't participate in. Can I be any more redundant? *sigh* I'm sure if iIreally tried I could.

So I went and got some inspiration for the characters we're creating in said place of moderation. Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea: Merchant Seaman, Pirates and the Anglo-American Maritime World, 1700-1750; and, The Pirate Queen: In Search of Grace O'Malley and Other Legendary Women of the Sea.

***

Today I took part in a workshop. The leader related a story about how she had the opportunity to enter a working mine shaft as part of an educational tour. She told us before her group was allowed to enter the mine they were all taught how to use their personal life saver, which is a tube and plug mask. During an emergency the plug seals your nose closed and the tube filters any toxins in the air. Apparently you know the filter is working because it heats up and if it is really working it can blister: but do not remove it because if you do you could die.

All miners are now required to carry these life savers at all times. There was an incident - in the Sunshine Mine Shaft, I believe - in which all the life savers were kept in a particualar room. When the mine collapsed it sealed that room closed.

After the course the group entered an elevator in which they were all "shoulder to shoulder and fronts to backs"*, descended a mile and were released into the mine proper, where they were instantly surrounded by the sound of air conditioner units and water pumps going full blast. The former because it was about 120 egrees F and the latter because of the water table levels. Miners tend to work in 12 hour shifts.

Some fun huh?

***CV

* hey Stephanie, do you recognise what song I mistook that from? :)

confessions

"Time flies.

My time crawls.

Like an insect;

up and down the walls"

P. Murphy

I am catching one tiger by the toe :)

***CV

i spy

Hi. My name is CV and I have an addiction.

Today I bought two new skeins of Opal -- like I do not already have more sock yarn than I need and I'm signed up for a class to make an iscohedal ball that requires fingering weight (ie sock weight, which I do have enough already of) and which was supposed to purposefully use up some of said nuclear holacaust activity supply.

Yesterday I went to P*****'* (name oh so cleverly disguised) and picked up: Fire and Hemlock by Dianna Wynne Jones, Sunbird by Elizabeth Wein, and a copy of Sensational Socks.

Must stop, must stop.......

Oh, and my sock knitter? She asked if it was okay if she started her real pair of socks - 'cause the first one is the practice sock - at home? (Do you all sense a multi project person in the making?) So I emailed her with the generic cast on body pattern so she could. I am such an enabler.

***

Memes! Oh we get me-emes! Oh we get me-em-es ev-er-y day! Me-mer me-mer meme away!

1) Name five of your favourite books

fiction

historic

mythic fantasy

chansoms

vampire

(oh so much has changed has it not? But STILL NOT Anne Rice)

2) What was the last book you bought?

Ummm you mean the bottom of the pile at the cashiers?......Maybe it was

Sunbird

3) What was the last book you read / finished?

hahahahahaha! *snort* have you seen my sock "projects"? I read like that.

Oh okay

reread: Sunshine

read: Armies of Hanuman

4) List five books that have been particularly meaningful to you

(in no particular order)

see number 1

5) Name three books you've been dying to read but just haven't gotten around to it.

see numbers 1 and 4

And that's all for tonight!****CV

What your soul sings

I had to tell someone today that I would not do their work for them. They looked so disappointed.

On Monday I posted the bride. Here are some words from the groom:

Third Poem

Come from Lebanon my promised bride,

come from Lebanon, come on your way,

lower your gaze from the heights of Amana

from the crests of Senir and Hermon,

the haunt of lions,

the mountains of leopards.

You ravish my heart,

my sister, my promised bride,

you ravish my heart.

with a single one of your glances,

with one single pearl of your necklace.

What spells lie in your love,

my sister, my promised bride?

How delicious is your love, more delicious then wine!

How fragrant your perfumes,

more fragrant then all other spices!

Your lips, my promised one,

distill wild honey.

Honey and milk

are under your tongue;

and the scent of your garments

is like the scent of Lebanon

She is a garden enclosed,

my sister, my promised bride;

a garden enclosed,

a sealed fountain,

Your shoots form an orchard of pomegranate trees,

the rarest esscences are yours:

nard and saffron,

calamus and cinnamon,

with all the incense bearing trees;

myrrh and aloes,

with the subtlest of odors.

Fountain that makes the gardens fertile,

well of living water,

streams flowing down from Lebanon.

****

I come into my garden,

my sister, my promised bride.

I gather my myrrh and balsam,

I eat my honey and honeycomb,

I drink my wine and my milk.

the Song of Songs

according to Solomon

***CV