I know you have a reputation, but...

Ok geese. Bear in mind that you are known for tasting good. In fact, a certain faculty of engineering legend is a legend in part because one of you were turned into his Easter dinner. I know that you are known for not having sense, but when I get within a half metre of you, you really shouldn't wait for me to look directly at you and go

"You look like dinner!"

before you start to slowly shuffle off. This also holds true for you not getting up when I walk next to you, carrying a heavy weight. If I need to remind you that you're dinner, I'm going to be right before too long.

I think I need to look into how to clean birds...

I've Done Smarter

At least I sure hope I have.

For example: after putting the plastic cutting board I used for chicken into the sink, I got a wooden one for veggies. It could have been worse though - I could have used the wooden one first and then got a fresh, plastic, one out for the chicken.

Also: 2 am (that's my excuse) I wake up, and decide to put weight on both legs equally to see if my ankle was better. It wasn't, and I've decided that I'm blaming that for the fact that it still hurts today.

My yarn budget is safe

So we went to the library yesterday, and my mother foolishly took her eyes off me while she made some photocopies. Before you say that at my age I should be able to look out for myself, let me explain why this is bad. After realising that I had too many knitting books, I went up to find some fiction. My selection of books got me accused of bragging, and caused a minor tussle between my parents. (It was a new to us book by Bujold, the arguments were over who read it first).

One of the knitting books I brought back was KnitLit the Third. One of the stories is from a woman who explains her thrift-store yarn as follows:

"Our local Mennonite-run shop was a treasure trove of old, funky, and discontinued (long discontinued) yarns. They were so damn cheap, I never could bring myself to leave them there. In all, I had eight totes of yarn, as well as several plastic grocery bags."

I have ONE standard-sized PC shopping bag, half full of yarn and needles from the thrift store. And it was for a specific purpose. I didn't buy ANY of the lovely wool they had that once (I was just a pusher and encouraged my mom to do so, but that's neither here nor there). I think that there is absolutely no reason to assume that living across from Michael's is a bad idea.

Things I Learned Today

1) John in the shop wasn't trying to play pranks on the undergrad who didn't know how to work with metal by suggesting use of the punch

1a) The clearance between the handles of the punch once you finally apply enough force to go through the metal is less than the height of my thumb.


2) Using the density of water instead of the density of air with a height difference in a water-filled manometer makes your calculations much more accurate

Fascinating New Study!

Psychologists have recently discovered more information about etymological amnesia. Specifically, it has been determined that, while the effects can be predicted with great accuracy, there still is no known cure or preventative measure.

This suggests to me that there is simply no way to avoid that the fact that the next person to prematurely mention the w-word to me will completely slip my mind when I’m writing out guest lists.

Living with Fourth Years

In this week's episode we discuss post-IRS fun!

So the other morning I go to the washroom and notice someone's iron ring sitting on the edge of the sink. I was rather surprised by this. Why on earth would Strider have left his ring here? (Cut me some slack. It was morning, and I had lost an hour's sleep the night before. No idea why, just woke up and stayed up.) Eventually it did sink into my brain that two of my current housemates have received their iron rings, and maybe it belonged to one of them. I checked the size and discovered that the ring defintely belonged to one of my housemates (I've stolen Strider's ring often enough that I know what size it is fairly well).

Juggler then staggers into the bathroom to bathe. He quickly popped out again, letting me know about the ring. I then demonstrated that it was the wrong size, it couldn't belong to Strider. Juggler, not being awake, needed to have the fourth year housemates pointed out to him before he understood the source of the ring.

The real fun, however, started when one of the fourth years came out of his room. I asked him if his ring was missing, and told him that there was one in the bathroom. Explaining that, yes, I really think it's yours, it belongs to you or to the other guy who lives here, took a while. However we now (hopefully) have it all sorted out. The other fourth year is back, and he hadn't lost his ring, nor are his fingers small enough to fit into the one that was lost.