I'm A Couple Days Late...

But Happy Father's Day, Daddy! I love you!

I Probably Have An Addictive Personality, But I Never Exaggerate.

You know those people who pick up a new hobby and become so obsessed with it that they can't do anything else and really don't talk about anything else?

That would be me.

I am a knitting fiend. Although that kind of implies that I'm fast, and I'm really not....but whatever. I thought I would share with you my path to knitting. And actually, you know, making something that can be used.

Part One: My sister attempts to teach me to crochet.

This is my sister:

Sure, she looks innocent enough. But looks can be deceiving. The weirdo actually enjoys untangling yarn.
(I would like to point out at this point that my sister has made socks/slippers, a sweater, baby blankets...she's got some experience.)

I crocheted chains when I was little. 9 or 10 maybe? I don't really remember when it was or how to do it. At all. My grandmothers both crochet, my mom crochets. I'm an anomaly.

The Scene: Sitting next to Sis on the couch. Between telling me what to do, she's crocheting her own something-or-other. I don't think she got much done, as about every .2 seconds I needed instruction. Which would not be so bad, except that for about every .5 seconds, I'd mess up.

This is how I remember it:

Sis: THIS IS WRONG. YOU SUCK. ROOOOAAAAR!!!
-Proceeds to RIP OUT ALL OF MY WORK and turn back to her own like it's nothing. I cower in the corner crying and muttering like Gollum.


What probably actually happened, although the experience was too traumatizing for me to remember it clearly:

Sis: Oh, you messed up. You need to start over.
-Really did rip out my work, although probably not the whole thing every time. (So she says.)
Me: *whimper*

In the end, I did end up with something that may have been pretty, but I never actually finished an entire square. Plus I couldn't do it on my own. I needed instruction for every single step. That kind of makes it not enjoyable. At all.

I'm pretty sure this little square took me about 72 hours to make. Or maybe minutes. Whatever.

Anyway, after all of this, I swore off crocheting. At this point in time, no one in my (immediate) family was a knitter so I kind of figured I was done playing with yarn. Unless I wanted to carry my sister around in a backpack everywhere I went. I love her, but um.....no.

Coming soon, Part Two: The Knitting Loom. Kids do this in commercials, but I think that's a bunch of bullhonkey.

Moms Rock

Happy Mother's Day to the Best Mommy Ever! 

I love you, Mom. Thanks for everything.

Happy Birthday, K!

Today's Best Quote: "I'm a big girl. I'm 20."

But I guess it's okay, 'cause she's gonna be the most loved special ed teacher in the state, I'm pretty sure.

I love you, sis. Thanks for sharing your childhood & entire wardrobe with me. And for always making laugh. And for not killing me that time I cut your hair. Even though I was only 5 and you were 3 and I asked you if it was okay and you said yes, so it should definitely not be considered entirely my fault.

Enjoy your third decade of life!

Unclean! Unclean!

So last week my dad took me to the doctor so I could get tested for h1n1 because the symptoms for it are the same as the symptoms for essentially everything (including a sinus infection, which was the winner). I was not positive for h1n1 (although the dr had me stay home from class the rest of the week "just in case." I didn't argue.). Today I got a text from my mom. Guess who does have the piggy flu? My dad. So the sweet man drove me to the doctor when I felt too sick to drive, waited a couple of hours with me, and bought me dinner, all the while EXPOSING ME TO SWINE FLU. And since I have the worse immune system in the world, I am finishing every pill of my antibiotic like a good girl, washing my hands for excessive amounts of time, saline-ing my nose, and consuming many hot beverages, because apparently the little devil likes to live in the throat & nose before it attacks. Pretty sure I've had the seasonal flu at least once already. Really not in the mood to catch something that will make University send me home.

I am now going to go pretend I do not feel like total crap because I had an amazing weekend with Fiance and the Colts won. Possibly I feel ill due to the power of suggestion. That could make me throw up a lot...right?

In Case You've Ever Wondered Where I Get It...

Email from my Dad's coworker to dad/many other coworkers, forwarded by Dad to me & my sister:

Saturday is national Talk-Like-A-Pirate day.

It would be ok if you honored the day tomorrow (Fri).

Have a nice weekend.

With the included message:

Because I knew you’d want to be aware…!  We’ll be talking.  -Dad

Me to Dad:

 This is the kind of stuff you do at work?!

Dad to Me:

Aye, Lass! The day be an honored tradition amongst the lads. ‘Tis important to pay attention lest there be unrest in the galley or mutiny on the poop deck.  Arggh! 

Engineers... 

Just A Note

So, I can't post anything substantial because our internet is crap. (In five days, I shall be living on campus, problem solved.) But I will say this: Daddy took me shooting today, and it was awesome. Also, we shot a computer...yeah...

Too Many Monkeys

Apparently I've been spending at least a decent amount of time studying, as my father came home from the store with a "present" for me. Also known as a Kleenex box "Covered in primates!"

Sweet, yes.

Strange, definitely.


(I realize that this is not a particularly redneck activity. I am still tagging it as such, however, because if the hat fits...)

Speaking of Which...

My brother's redneck of the day calendar says " You might be a redneck if you've ever overdosed on girl scout cookies." Seriously? Is there anyone who HASN'T done this? Anyone? Anyone?

Nothin' Like Chasin' Crime to Cheer a Girl Up

If you drive drunk, my daddy will call the cops on you. Then he will follow you (for freaking forever) until the cops find you, and wait to make sure they actually pull you over. Then he will turn on the radio in his truck and listen to the cops talk (in cop language that I don't understand) about what to do with your car. Then he will buy me Starbucks. (Er, we were on a coffee run. At 10:30 at night. Don't judge.) And then he will drive back the same way we came just to see what's going on (aka, your car being searched). All because his daughter is a coffee addict and was moody and didn't feel like driving herself to the gas station for a caffeine fix.

Dad: "Suppose it would be wrong to roll down the window and yell 'neener, neener' at 'em?"

P.S. My daddy also chases storms. Yeah.

And also...

Happy Father's Day, Daddy!

You might be a redneck...

Conversation between me & my brother:

Me: There's a strange dog in our yard. Wanna go chase it off?

B: Is it a German shepherd? That's F.'s dog. If it doesn't go away soon I'll just shoot it with a paintball gun.

Me: Maybe you should yell at it first?

B: Aunt M. hit it with a skateboard once. I think this would be better.


Such is my life.