Bad MemoryAugust 6, 2004
I’ve been knitting furiously on something that I can’t show you. I kind of hate that. But it’s rather liberating, too. I can just knit away. Because it’s a project I’m doing for someone else (but it’s not a gift), I’m using a mostly mohair blend, something I don’t use very often. I usually hate the way it flies up my nose and sticks there, a fuzzy snuffly feeling. But this stuff—oooh, it’s light and soft and not sheddy in the slightest.
Isn’t your interest piqued now? Hmmm? You’ll see it someday, promise.
Thanks for the sweet comments, sweets. They did help. Sometimes it’s nice to have a grump, isn’t it? That’s what I love most about living alone—the ability to scowl and thump and bump and humph, annoying no one but myself. My cats just turn around three times and go sleep with their backs to me.
I keep remembering things that I mean to blog about and then promptly forget them again. I’ll be filling a water bottle and think, “Must mention that movie…. Oh, look at that funny bug… Hmm. Wonder what I’ll have for dinner.” Poof. Gone again, for about six hours. I used to have more brain cells. That was before the dentist’s laughing gas.
First, rent Before Sunrise. A babyfaced Ethan Hawke walks the streets of Vienna for a night with a beautiful French girl, played by Julie Delpy. You remember? It was the quintessential movie for 20-somethings backpacking through Europe in the early 90s. (Wait, didn’t I meet you at that hostel in Berlin? Or was it in Dublin? Remember that drunk Aussie with the machete?)
Then, go see Before Sunset. It’s the sequel, nine years later, now in theatres. This time, they walk the streets of Paris for 80 minutes of real time, just talking. Now, I usually have a great big problem with Ethan Hawke in that I think he’s normally too smarmy to bear, but he’s just right in both movies. And Delpy, I don’t care if she just sits there and says nothing. Don’t. Care.
Okay, check that off the list. I remembered that one.
Oh, yeah, tons more thanks are due to the supporters of Team 911:
Janine B. (Wow!)
Watch us RUN, baybees. Honestly, you should see the grins Marama and I throw at each other when we read the names…. Oh, thank you thank you THANK you. (If one of those is you, and you have a website, hit me up, and I’ll link it. I have my suspicions who some of you are, but I don’t want to link willy-nilly. What if I linked someone with a similar name to someone who didn’t donate—embarrassing for all parties. You know? I’m thinking too much, I know.)
Twelve miles this Sunday! Good lord. I’m going to deserve a LOT of ice cream.
Happy weekend, all. Mwah!