Friday, 30 September 2011


Mom leaves for work earlier than I do, at least in general.
I hardly ever go to the kitchen and general surrounding area, I even make packed lunches and forgot to pick one today.
It is generally known.

So, I came to work, BossMom was already sitting there doing whatevwer she's doing and asked whether I closed the terrace door. Nope, I said, I didn't go there at all so I didn't notice.
Boo hoo, you should have known, the cat wanted to go outside so I opened the door and you should have noticed, whinety whine you're so stupid, that the door is open. You mean that I should have left you a note in written? when it's so obvious that you should have read my thoughts that this time I didn't close the terrace door.
Yes, you should have left a note, I said. BossMom growled Don't talk to me and now she's sulking.
Not that I particularly regretted not talking to her, I can at least download my movies and do my fleabay shopping in peace (not really).

The real issue is sorta different, the cat does go outside but sorta supervised. She can't crawl under the fence because it's pretty low - unless she finds her way under the garage gate. She can't climb although the fence is so rotten that with a bit of trying, she could walk through at some places. She's microchipped and nobody in the general neighbourhood has a Meezer I'd know of. I just hope I come home and find the little barstud sleeping on the sofa.

Tuesday, 27 September 2011

Fibre is good for you

First it was like:

Then it was like:

And this afternoon it was like:

To be continued.

For knitting geeks, the orange shit is Silk Garden Lite, colour 2047, I guess, with strawberry red, pinkish and brown bits cut out, and it will be on the shoulders. There's a hole for the head somewhere in that mess pictured.
The next yarn is Malabrigo Rios, colour Arco Iris or Indiecita.
The teal-with-things is Noro again, Ouchou, colour 8, closely followed by Silk Garden, colour 8, whose blue bits are happily used for another sweater I may or may not show sometime later.

Monday, 19 September 2011

First world problems

My feet are size 42. For most of my grown up life I wore 41 and it wasn't exactly comfy. I still sometimes get something in size 41 (Yes, I'm talking about those Beverly Feldman shoes from fleabay, but BF fits okay and one pair were thongs.) The Marc Jacobs ballet flats were cheap and 41. I decided they would work. They worked although it cost quite some effort to stretch them - and they are rather narrow than short as such.

When summer came, I started wearing thongs and sandals. Now I'm in Prague, I need to go to some discussion panel at the Ministry of Education so I took decent shoes with me. Said Marc Jacobs. On the first day, I decided that less than comfy is not a problem, I won't do any major walking etc. Today afternoon, I was highly inclined to go buy shoes NAO but it's rainy and I'm wintery-depressed and I had a problem with dragging my tired body to the metro station to go home.
During the Pilates class, my feet grew a few more blisters so I plastered and band-aided them and stumbled home, thinking that there's a shopping hell on the way so I'll act spoiled and go shoe-shopping at 9 pm. Shopping hell was open but the boutiques were closed. I fail to see a point of open mall with closed shops but I'm not your typical consumer.

The report on getting size 42 shoes in a country when normal range ends at 41 and the existence of abnormal is denied will follow.

Monday, 12 September 2011

I'd better be working.

Instead, I'm listening to some quarter tone jazz, shopping for fabrics and generally

And trying not to poke the roadrash on my elbow.

I'm taking the wager seriously, or at least halfway seriously, regarding my ever-enormous consumption of chocolate. Around a month ago, I scratched my toes against the curb and there're still some pretty thick scabs. Yesterday I cycled for a while. I wanted to ride across a small wooden bridge to see what's on the other river bank and in the middle, my brain caught up, screamed Eeeeeep, I iz scared of falling into the big scary river and I leaned against the railing. Railing made of un-de-barked wood. The problem of jeans with huge pink spot (it was wool dye, it shouldn't dye cotton, damn) and the question of spot removal was solved by tearing said jeans, I proudly showed my battle wounds at home, which mom commented that I should be getting band-aid in bulk.

I couldn't find the something-cain ointment in the morning and now I'm hurting.

But, I've lost some two kilos since the last time I checked. So what.