Prom Approaches

Saturday, in fact. I somehow thought I had more time. It's May already. Wow. Time flies. I've got to stop eating paint chips.

I'm confident I'll finish M's shawl, though. It's very simple, per her request. Made from Patons Brilliant in White Twinkle flavor. (Or as we say on the other side of the label... Blanc Scintillant.) I don't think this picture does the color justice. It's white, but it has a silver metallic thread running through it.

This is the dress M will wear to accent my shawl. She also has silver jewelry. So there's this whole red/silver theme.

I also picked up the extra cotton yarn to make my bigger Isabeau purse. I have only the handles and the lining to go, so hopefully I can finish that up pretty quickly. I'd like to start carrying my spring purse, you know?

Other than that, though, I've not done much knitting. And I've missed it, really. I keep thinking of all these things I'd like to make and I keep buying more yarn, but then I haven't had a lot of time/energy to knit.

Part of that is because I have not been sleeping well lately. I keep having these really strange dreams. And not the usual riding-the-space-shuttle-like-a-wild-pony type of dream, either.

The other night I dreamed I learned that some of my friends were robots and, while that was okay with me, some people were very offended and wanted to dismantle my friends. Another night I had come in from some desert testing facility and was going through a decontamination process, and instead of worrying about being contaminated or even being naked with all those people around, I worried that I didn't look good naked. (Which is true, but those kinds of thoughts don't usually find their way into my dreams.)

And then, last night, I was trying to determine what the line in the song "Sweet Home Alabama" (the one that says "I hope Neil Young will remember/A Southern Man don't want him around anyhow.") I knew it referenced Neil Young's song "Southern Man," which makes its own social statements, but it seemed to me that it had some other meaning that I was trying to determine. I asked some other people, but only got some weird looks.

I'm really surprised I'm not dreaming about walking. Blamey has forced me to exercise (yes, I said the E Word) by walking with her. I like to refer to those 30 minutes as The Lunchtime Death March.

Don't tell her, but all that walking is really making my butt look better. Seriously. I'm going to have to take a picture of my butt so you can see how good it's beginning to look.

That will be on a future blog entry.