State of the Wired
Baz's Sherwood sweater is currently sucking my will to live. I get about one cabled round and one "plain" round done each direction of my bus ride. It's about 9 inches long now. It's worsted, and cabled. There are 7 rows to the inch. I may never finish. I could take a break and work on sil's sock.... which is in the short-row heel phase and I did not use stitch markers as abundantly as I should have, so it requires intense concentration to decide where I should be knitting.
I ordered a new bra. I love the internet, because it gives me the ability to figure out the arcane and mystical arts used by the bra-measuring salesladies and do it at home. Yeah, I'm pretty sure that the reason I strip my bras off the second I walk into my house is because 42 DDDD is not actually the same as 38 G. See, cup size is determined by the differential between band measurement (that bit that goes under the breasts) and bust measurement (what we all think of as the boobies). So if the bra salesladies didn't have any cup sizes, um, up to my weight, they would reccomend going up a band size. Which meant that my bands would ride up in back, and my mammary tissue would attempt to escape by tunnelling out the bottom under the underwires. Which is about as comfortable as it sounds. Stupid gravity. So, go me, attempting to find A One True Bra. When I find it, I will order dozens! Or maybe not. But some. And someday, in the mystical far-off future, I will have a job with health insurance and medical leave, and a plastic surgeon who uses the latest methods, and I will take these things down to a size that enables me to wear stuff from Victoria's Secret. Not that I am THAT hot on Vickie's, but I would like the option.
I also ordered new pants, because my very favorite in the world black pair died, and I am tragically low on work pants anyway. Lands End was vexing me. They had either the size I wanted or the color I wanted, but not both. At least not in the "curvy-cut velveteen" style. I still found a couple pairs I think will work. And if not, I return them.
This morning, in addition to hating all my clothes, wishing I had made myself more socks, and an aversion to the most practical coat, I also hated on my hair. But I am leaving it long for this weekend, because sil likes it long. (by saying that is long now, I don't actually mean 'long', I mean bra-strap length).
No catered dinner for us at Wellspring, sadly. There had to be a minimum number of people, and it didn't get hit. So my options are 1) make a reservation at Alexander's, 2) make a reservation at Copper Creek, or pack a gourmet picnic dinner. Now, both those restaurants are known-good. We have happily eaten at Copper Creek many times (omg, the amazing caesar salad), and Alexander's is swankier although I don't know about their actual quality. But we will just be coming off an hour-long massage each, and may be disinclined to move. And although both restaurants say they have winter hours, they will close if there is no one around. Although there is less danger of this on a Saturday night. I could also plan on us eating dinner out, and having wine and hors d'ouvres in our room later. I would ask sil his preference, but I'd like to plan this all and make him feel romantically swept away. What would you want?
I ordered a new bra. I love the internet, because it gives me the ability to figure out the arcane and mystical arts used by the bra-measuring salesladies and do it at home. Yeah, I'm pretty sure that the reason I strip my bras off the second I walk into my house is because 42 DDDD is not actually the same as 38 G. See, cup size is determined by the differential between band measurement (that bit that goes under the breasts) and bust measurement (what we all think of as the boobies). So if the bra salesladies didn't have any cup sizes, um, up to my weight, they would reccomend going up a band size. Which meant that my bands would ride up in back, and my mammary tissue would attempt to escape by tunnelling out the bottom under the underwires. Which is about as comfortable as it sounds. Stupid gravity. So, go me, attempting to find A One True Bra. When I find it, I will order dozens! Or maybe not. But some. And someday, in the mystical far-off future, I will have a job with health insurance and medical leave, and a plastic surgeon who uses the latest methods, and I will take these things down to a size that enables me to wear stuff from Victoria's Secret. Not that I am THAT hot on Vickie's, but I would like the option.
I also ordered new pants, because my very favorite in the world black pair died, and I am tragically low on work pants anyway. Lands End was vexing me. They had either the size I wanted or the color I wanted, but not both. At least not in the "curvy-cut velveteen" style. I still found a couple pairs I think will work. And if not, I return them.
This morning, in addition to hating all my clothes, wishing I had made myself more socks, and an aversion to the most practical coat, I also hated on my hair. But I am leaving it long for this weekend, because sil likes it long. (by saying that is long now, I don't actually mean 'long', I mean bra-strap length).
No catered dinner for us at Wellspring, sadly. There had to be a minimum number of people, and it didn't get hit. So my options are 1) make a reservation at Alexander's, 2) make a reservation at Copper Creek, or pack a gourmet picnic dinner. Now, both those restaurants are known-good. We have happily eaten at Copper Creek many times (omg, the amazing caesar salad), and Alexander's is swankier although I don't know about their actual quality. But we will just be coming off an hour-long massage each, and may be disinclined to move. And although both restaurants say they have winter hours, they will close if there is no one around. Although there is less danger of this on a Saturday night. I could also plan on us eating dinner out, and having wine and hors d'ouvres in our room later. I would ask sil his preference, but I'd like to plan this all and make him feel romantically swept away. What would you want?