It just occurred to me that Fluid Pudding is nearly 13.5 years old. It’s face is starting to break out, and it’s only a matter of time before it becomes a lady.
This has been a tricky week for many reasons that I refuse to go into. Many reasons for which going into is refused by me. Of which going into is refused? Anyway. You don’t need to know.
This is what you need to know. (Here I sit on a wooden chair in my kitchen smelling like patchouli oil (because I DO) and determining what it is that you need to know. This is how the world works sometimes.)
I finished the Stone Hollow Mittens last weekend. The designer, Carol Sunday, is the woman who designed the cardigan that I finished a few weeks ago. Her patterns are amazing.
I’m currently reading Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children and on Monday I went to a secondhand store that housed a few dolls who could qualify as peculiar children.
Sometimes a person will go to a garage sale, pick up a monkey lamp that is priced at $15, and then say something like, “I’ll give you $10 for the monkey lamp.” Immediately, the person who priced the monkey lamp at $15 is put in the awkward position of not wanting to seem like a jerk, but come on! It’s a fully functioning monkey lamp, and it’s priced at $15 which is a very competitive price in the world of used monkey lamps! And maybe the person making the low ball monkey lamp offer doesn’t even realize that the offer is slightly offensive and upsetting, but maybe the person SELLING the monkey lamp knows that the person making the low ball offer can’t seem to pay his electric bill to even WORK a monkey lamp, yet somehow manages to spend quite a bit of money on hookers and blow. Something is wrong. The End.
Sometimes I think I need to change my LinkedIn profile from Freelance Editor to Purveyor of Monkey Lamps. Also: I Am A Monkey Lamp.
(I’m once again not sleeping. Can you tell? Did I go too far with the monkey lamp thing? Buckle up. I’m about to mention my dog’s butt problem.)
The best news of the week? One of my favorite people mentioned a Mediterranean restaurant that is located less than ten minutes away from our house. It’s called Mario’s Donuts and Cafe, and on Saturday night I had a falafel. On Sunday morning I had a doughnut. During the Oscars I had baklava. (I’ve been eating my angst. Also, I quit Weight Watchers. Something wicked this way comes, and it just might be baba ghanoush.)