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Not much bloggin’ going on here  — the little mama’s in town! She and Christy arrived last night from Paris (I’d say it in French, just for fun, but I cain’t even fake that French accent, not even in typing). Look, she just showed me her transit card that she got while there:

She says she looks startled, but I think she just looks tres Parisienne. (She did say that she lost count of the times that people asked her for directions, and she actually speaks enough French to fake it, or at least explain that she wasn’t from the area.)

And today we’re shopping because she’s the matron of honor in her best friend’s wedding on Saturday, so I much splash into the bath now while Mom catches up on TiVoed Oscars (bah). Adah would like you to know that she’s still annoying. And Digit would like you to know that he’s still fat.

And Lala would like you to know that Spam comes in many flavors.

Am I the only one in the whole world who thought Million Dollar Baby was (boxing scenes aside) overblown and emotionally manipulative? I was so MAD at that movie. And (no spoilers) I don’t mind a movie that makes me weep, not at all. Give me some Steel Magnolias. But this, no. No, thanks.

This delighted me. Yet another good-writin’ Stephanie from Canada. What up widdat? I will utilize point 5c tonight at the show. Yup.

And because I’ve got nothing else for ya right now — what I’m working on now:

Wool-ease. Yes, really. Yet another retro-prep, because that’s the best pattern ever. Mindless knitting. I’m loving it.

And me? Mindless, as well. Have a great weekend, all. Oscars AND the L Word on Sunday night, what could be better?

One more night (tonight) at work and then I’m off for four days. Tomorrow night I’m going to Janine’s Dulaan knit-in (has anyone lately written about how freaking great Janine is? And it’s not just because she is generous and warm and sweet, but she’s also smart and funny and a brilliant designer, and she’s the best thing to come out of the Pacific Northwest in a long time. Ryan, darlin’, I know you miss her. But I’m so glad you introduced us via email those months ago). Oh, and you did all see Cuzzin Tom has a website now, right? He’s going to Mon-frickin’-golia, as Ryan says. I can’t even imagine how the internet works out there. (Aside: When my friend was in Ethiopia, I was trying to teach her dad how to use email. He never quite got it, because I was never effective at explaining exactly HOW the email knew how to find her. He thought it was like throwing a letter into the wind and hoping it found the right continent.)

Oh, and then after the knit-in, Lala’s band The Whoreshoes is playing at the Odeon (really late, like when-the-Spaniards-eat late). You should come. They’re super. And I would say that even if I weren’t all head-over-heels. (Although if I weren’t, and didn’t know her, and saw the band, I’d totally hit on her. It was bound to happen eventually.)

And hey, while I’m a mad and crazy linker, a huge shout-out goes to Tracy, who rescued Lala the other night while she was searching her trunk for the change needed to order the best burrito in the world. Tracy said something like, "Not to sound weird and all, but are you Lala? Rachael’s girlfriend?" And then they chatted and she gave Lala the last fifty cents she was short. I owe you, girl. Come to the show, I’ll buy you a drink.

Then I pulled my cast-on (180 stitches) bottom of a sweater out of my bag and pulled the needle right out of about fifteen stitches. I was still on the first row, so I put ’em back on with some difficulty. It wasn’t until row four that I noticed I’d twisted it when I’d replaced the original stitches.

Grrr.

I’m going to drive VERY slowly to work.

But honestly? I had a phone call from m’girl, and I ate, count them, four Cadbury Creme Eggs. I’m actually in a much better mood now. Oooh! Coffee! I think I need more coffee.

Now, to rip.

It’s one of those late afternoons where I can’t get off the couch. I thought about running, but I’m just too tired. I’ll go tomorrow morning, after work. I got stuck working a 14 hour shift until 9am this morning, on my Monday, which means when I went to bed this morning I’d been up for something like 26 hours. I wanted to get an eight-hour sleep and sleep till 6pm, but instead Adah started jumping on my head at 4pm. I got up, but I got up surly.

I hate getting up surly like that. (She hates it, too…. wink, nudge.) I growled my way to feeding them, growled my way to making coffee.  I rubbed my eyes after petting the cats (I’m allergic), and while I was running my eyes under water, I bumped my forehead on the faucet and then stuck myself in the eyeball with the allergy eye-drops.

Oh, and I’m nursing a grand bruise on my left forearm — it’s where I caught the weight of my body as I fell going up the front stairs yesterday. I suppose falling going up stairs beats falling while going down them, but it still sucks. (My most spectacular fall up stairs was when I tripped while holding beer bottles. They broke on the concrete stairs right before I landed on them, cutting my stomach in fine little stripes. Nothing serious, but annoying and highly embarrassing. Plus I had to buy more beer. I was a little late to the party.)

And my eyelashes hurt.

Grumble. I only grumble like this when I’m this tired. Or when I’m out of Cadbury Creme Eggs. Which I’m not, so I should just eat one and shut up. Right? Right.

Digit would like you to know that he is not grumpy for once in his life. Transference, you know.