Can I Ask You A Question?

I just titled today's entry that way because that's one of my pet peeves. I hate it when people ask me that. First, that is a question, Sweetie. It makes me want to say "Was that your question?"

Secondly, now, I don't want to give the impression that I'm some kind of a genius or anything. After all, I was educated in Indiana public schools. But I can usually tell the difference between a statement and a question. There's a little something I like to call vocal inflection that tips me off. Oh, and the way it seems to require a response from me. So, there's no need, really, to announce to me that you are about to ask me a question, is there? Just ask the question.

I wish you could see me. I'm five feet tall. I'm not imposing in the least. I cannot imagine that someone might feel they have to ask me persmission to ask me a question. What do you think might happen? Am I that scary?

That's what's on my mind. (I know you didn't ask. You see how that works? I didn't ask permission to tell you, either!)

Anyway, I must confess that I have inadvertently let you down, dear readers. I meant to load my photos from the camera into the fast PC and post them for you. But I didn't.

I could tell you that I worked instead, writing another 4,000 words on "Taking on City Hall."

But that would be a lie.

I actually slacked around, posting on the Craftster boards and cruising the net, looking for knitting porn. Oh, and I had a phone interview for a job today. So that was pretty cool.

And, I finished the Feather Lace Hat, too. So I will have lots of pix to share with you tomorrow. I'm wearing Kittyville again right now, too. I think it's going to become my "Thinking Cap."

Did you ever see Shakespeare In Love? And he (Shakespeare) has a little routine he does before he starts writing? Well, some writers are like that. We have our little routines. My routine, by the way, is to drink 3 cups of coffee, check my email, play an hour of Civ 3, two games of Spider Solitaire, and then start writing.

No, just kidding. There's a shower in there somewhere. Still, I get between 2 and 4K words down a day. Can you imagine what I could do if I had an ounce of discipline? But that's my day. Writing in the morning and afternoon. Knitting and housework in the evening.

I don't know what will happen when I go back to work. Do you think my new boss will be okay with me knitting on company time? What if I hide it when anyone walks by my office?

Why am I so wordy tonight? Wordy and not funny? I'm off my game, I guess. Maybe compensating for the lack of pix of FOs?

Oh, speaking of compensating (or speaking of funny, you choose): I had this dream last night... No, seriously, this really was a real dream, not just trying to be funny...
I dreamed I was running hurdles over those things that roast hot dogs (you know, those roller things) and they were filled with hot dogs. I woke up laughing. I asked my husband if he understood the symbolism, but he just gave me a funny look.