cuuuute

Kip and Lil after a walk

  

Kip decided to take herself for a walk this morning. In to a neighbouring yard, and then shed. Fortunately, we were walking on a nearby oval at the time, so it wasn't the immediate neighbours (though she has walked herself over there previously).

Still. She's a funny dog.

Hence the need for a cute photo.

And another. As a matter of fact, Kip is modelling a Norwegian Forest Hat, as crocheted for a friend's Norwegian Forest Cat. Needless to say, Kip is such an awesome, hardcore dog that she immediately made the hat look like a pimp hat. But that's probably got a lot to do with the fact that she is a pimp dawg.

The pattern is from a hilarious blog called Spindles and Spices where the blogger heartily endorses knitted furmiliation of her pets. Which I think is only  reasonable, considering the amount of piss, shit and barking I have to deal with.

Did I mention I'm completely uncoordinated?

Because I am.

I fell off my bike yesterday while trying to explain to N that he needed to adjust the seat lower. I'm not accustomed to riding a 'girl's bike' (you know, with the funny frame that is supposed to be easier to get on and off of) so I have a tendency to swing my leg over the back over the bike...which is problematic when your feet don't quite reach the ground.
So I stacked it while trying to ride barefoot on the gravel driveway. I imagine it was hilarious to watch, but being the bad sport that I am, I went inside to go and wash the dirt and rocks out of my leg before going and doing something decidedly less dangerous, such as crochet.

However, I had also cut my thumb open (quite severely) with a very-sharp-knife, so there was some serious self-pity happening, as well as doubts about my ability to crochet without, I don't know, stabbing myself in the jejunum and then vomiting all over the bed or something.

Indeed, my inability to walk like a normal human being has left my dog trying to distance himself from me (if you could read his doggy thoughts, it would have been something along the lines of, "I'm not with her. I just happened to stop and stand here. With a lead. Yeah. Just walking. Alone."

Awesome.
Thanks dog.

In any event, today was relatively injury free.
Relatively.

I was in the mid-aisle daze I customarily find myself in when visiting the supermarket, trying desperately to ignore the Tom Jones playing over the speakers. It wasn't classy Tom Jones per 'what's new pussycat', but rather, croony, irritating, shut-the-fuck-up-before-I-forcibly-insert-this-toothbrush-in-my-eardrums Tom Jones. Followed by Tom Jones singing the theme from Thunderballs (the James Bond film)  which I have since learned was not a mondegreen, but indeed, the actual factual lyrics to the song, and the title of a Bond film.

Clearly, the term 'thunderballs' meant something different then, to what it does now.

Because in my brain, I envisioned something akin to Sean Connery in Zardoz:



linkie, again

More so than Sean Connery in the actual thunderballs movie:

linkies to picture


And look, he even has one of those cute little old timey jetpacks! Cute, no?

In other completely unrelated news, and really, because I like long  blog posts - this is as great as, if not greater than, the crochet Betty White doll pattern. Even with her sensible brown chinos and blue chambray shirt.

from Sandra Eterovic's blog

Awesome, no? Awesome on so many counts. Because (a) it's true and (b) it is yet another fine example of the awesome versatility of the fibre arts. Even if this particular vest is knitted (did I confess a bias? I really do prefer crochet) I love this more than I love my shoelaces. And really, what have shoelaces done for me recently? I mean, apart from keeping my shoes from falling off my feet, and that is CERTAINLY something a lovely little scrap of yarn could do most adequately. Maguyver style.

some totally awesome things that are really boosting the awesome level of my life from regular to EXTREME

Do you remember those bushfire danger scales? The kind that your parents never seemed to notice, but you would always see, and then register, seconds later, "OMFG THE BUSHFIRE DANGER TODAY IS HIGH AND WE ARE DRIVING IN TO THE BUSH"



from F~R~E~D'S flickr

 I could never figure out who adjusted those things. Was it automatic? Was this some kind of amazing computerised sentient sign, per Short Circuit? You know, "fire sign is aliiive!" ... and would this explain why I keep mistyping 'sign' as 'sigh'?

So, imagine now that this is in fact a scale of AWESOME and the point of reference is things in my life. Well, recent events have contributed to this scale being tipped from HIGH to EXTREME.

Obviously, you're wondering why. It's eating away at you, the niggling, anxious feeling... why is katey's life so awesome? Was it me? Was it something I said or did? Was it the one armed man?

Likely all of the above, but WHAT, WHAT IS IT?!

Firstly, I endured another end-of-year dance concert. This makes me sound like a horrendously bad parent who cares not for her daughters' talents, but this isn't necessarily the case, it's more so that I really couldn't give a flying fuck about the hundreds of other kids there. Selfish? Probably? But factually correct? Bingo. I'm fairly confident I'm not alone here, although there are some who look at my boredom and complete intolerance of this claptrap as being selfish and inconsiderate. And it likely is, but meh. Clearly I'm far too self absorbed to care about that.
Anyway, my daughters were awesome, hilariously awesome. Y had her skirt pulled nerdishly high in one of the dance pieces, and G pulled blue steel the entire concert... and the concert photos. I was trying so hard to contain my laughter, I almost swallowed my tongue.

Besides, it's not her fault she's really really ridiculously good looking  (from here)

So, other awesome things.

Ricky Martin.


I know right?

I've lost my mind!
Who knew?!
Apparently, Katey is a secret closet Ricky Martin fan!

Well, appalling music aside (World Cup Songs not included) Ricky Martin is a single dad of twins who DOESN'T EVEN HIRE A NANNY. According to the world of celebrity, twins are the new singleton, but they're impossible to manage without the aid of an entourage of at LEAST 30 staff working round the clock to make sure you don't ever have to come in to contact with them until they're cute enough to walk and ask for dead parrots for pets (per Angelina Jolie and one of her many child-like accessories) with the exclusion of the occasional paparazzi shoot just to confirm that those children are actually real, and well, unlike their celebrity parents, they're being fed.

So yeah. I'm still no fan of his music, and while I know that having twins via surrogacy is the new black, I still think that this is all quite cool. Not-so-secretly-gay single dad of twins... what's not to love?

linkiepoos

Of course, I often like to lay around in the sand with my shirt off looking all pensive and cool and hot while my kids sit there looking all fat and adorable. It's a twin thing. Yeah.

NOW, third awesome thing that I have identified, is an awesome drawing my cousin drew of me, Capn Katey, and her first mate Lil. Arrrr.



Linkie goodness to site of awesomeness



Awesome, no? My cousin drew it, inspired by my mindless blathering in a previous post about my penchant for carrying my dog around on my shoulder and pretending to be a pirate.

Lily makes a most exemplary shoulder companion. Quite possibly because her other occupations include; a university professor - with tenure (Professor Lilbury), a barman (Barkeep), Lily-the-heinous-bitch (when being pestered by our other small dog, Kip) etc.

Why yes, I am in dire need of a life.

Sometimes I put my dog on my shoulder and walk around like a pirate...

Because I figure if this whole academic pursuit thing doesn't work out, piracy is still a real and viable career move.
Particularly if I can replace my obligatory shoulder parrot with one of my dogs, like re-purposing but with pets and careers, right?

From this blog, which has nothing to do with my chosen career path

So I have been crocheting little granny stars using this glorious pattern  . I adore them - very quick and easy, I did 3 in the car on the way to touch footy last night (I wasn't driving) and then 4 in the car on the way home. Clearly having a beer after running around (or at least, feigning running around) is good for crochet productivity!

It's official

I have found the single most greatest crochet pattern ever to hook its way in to this sad, pathetic world of ours. Well, sad and pathetic without the pattern. Totally awesome with. Obv.

But a little back story first. Because what's awesome things in life without some totally boring building up?

So I've finished my god-awful thesis. The thesis itself wasn't god-awful, I hope, in fact, I hope the assessors read it and decide it's complete and utter genius and award me some kind of super-honours mark. Or something, right? Meh. A first class honours is all I really want. Band one, preferably, but first class, definitely.


So, I am sitting here, at my little laptop killing time and eating awesome sandwiches and stuff. Crocheting mostly, which involves intermittently picking up my nephew's blanket project, doing a little, and then searching Ravelry for other cute projects to begin. Because why would I finish one project when I could start 10 others?

I am also watching Russian news. I can't say precisely why this is, I think I was hoping that I would somehow absorb an awesome understanding of the language just by watching the news in Russian. Which seems completely logical, except that it gets kind of boring quite quickly. It is the news after all. I just like it when they cut back to the news desk and the reporters are saying something about something but the camera is too far away for me to really discern what their shoulder shrugs and funny little head wobbles are all about. That and I'm not quite sure what they're saying. Yet.

So back to Ravelry. I was searching for cute little patterns, and found THE MOST AWESOME CROCHET PATTERN EVER.

It's from this most wondrous blog here where this cool girl knits and crochets and generally procrastinates in ways I can totally relate to. She also finishes projects... which I haven't quite got around to mastering yet.

At any rate, like me, Carrie appears to love golden girls. As one of the world's greatest television shows (alongside growing pains and family ties) I can understand why. What's great about Carrie, is that she's done a totally amazing fusion of love for quality tv and a fibre arts obsession... and made...


(OMG, such suspense!!!)




awesome blog link again

YES!!! A BETTY WHITE DOLL!

And the bestest, BESTEST bit is that it's not Betty White per the current (and deserved) Betty White fandom, but Betty White as Rose, wearing "chinos and a sensible aqua cardigan"... gold!


Here's another linkie to Carrie's amazing blog post, where she links to the pattern, which is available as a Ravelry download. Ah, Ravelry. My spare time was so much less productive without you.

I'm going to make this doll for my mate Steve. Because I want to thank him for being a friend.

speaking of unicorns...

Life's getting me down. Tough decisions are becoming even harder, what with my appalling indecisiveness. So I ask myself, WWUD?

from this awesome website

And the spinny thing. For all you decision making needs. What WOULD a unicorn do?

on being a feminist bride, and other awesome stuff I write on other people's blogs. yeah.

image from Juju mama

A post I wrote on Mia Freedman's site, Mamma Mia regarding feminist brides and virginal white, being given away and promising to 'love honour and obey'.

The question posed by Mia was something along the lines of, "were you a feminist bride"... and Mia cited an example of her own interpretation of traditional marriage rites, her bridesmaid carried Mia's son down the aisle, as a fair rejection of the 'well, I'm not a virgin' assumption from days past.

My response:

Yeah, I’d like to think I was a feminist bride, even if it wasn’t a conscientious choice to be ‘a feminist bride’ – I just wanted to do things our way.


So… we got married at home, in our backyard, without about 70 or so guests (and that was a massive number blow out). We stood around and had beers with our mates before the ceremony, and then the celebrant asked everyone to assemble outside and we came out together, me, N and my daughters. It was lovely. He wore black jeans, a shirt and volleys, I wore a dress my mother and I made from black fabric and some gorgeous white lace – not what I had originally intended to wear! (I wanted to wear jeans and a tshirt!) But what we created from some fabrics that we found and loved.

We catered ourselves, asked a few friends to make some desserts.

We didn’t have rings. Neither of us are that in to jewellery, so it was a pointless exercise, exchanging rings.

We asked each of our dads to read some hilarious excerpts from a couple of books a friend gave us, ‘dont’s for wives’ and ‘donts for husbands’.

In place of the traditional giving away, the celebrant asked our friends and family if they would support us in our lives together, to which there was a resounding, and heart warming ‘YES!’

There was not a hint of ‘honour and obey’, rather, heartfelt words, and “do you promise to be a fabulous husband”… I laughed and joked the whole way through… it was a beautiful, glorious interpretation of a traditional rite that I had all my life advocated doing away with.

OMG, and the flowers! So N had brought home stacks of fluffy white chrysanthemums from his work, and we had lots of vases of chrysanthemum spread around the house. It was beautiful… I ended up with a bouquet (!) because there was 3 gorgeous roses out the front of my parents house, from a bush called ‘Julia’s rose’ (my sister’s name, I think I gave it to them when she was born?) that the night before I asked my mum if she could cut and bring over for a bouquet.

And we didn’t have a wedding cake – instead a dessert table. Cos I love dessert. So it was amazing, beautiful. A great day had by all. The whole thing was very mutually planned and organised too – I think that’s significant. Because I’m a terrible decision maker and not prepared to shoulder all/the bulk of the responsibility for what is supposed to be *our* day. Plus, obv N wanted a say in it, to us that seemed completely normal but I understand that often, brides don’t want their groom involved at all.

AND WE DIDN’T HAVE BUCK’S/HEN’S NIGHTS. Again, a mutual decision, but this whole ‘last night of freedom’ thing is bullshit, insulting and demeaning to the commitment we were making (and had already made) to each other.



And… I read offbeat bride and East side bride - both fairly religiously, as great blogs that were incredibly reassuring for knowing that it was ok to do things our way, because the important part of the day was not how the photos looked, or whether my shoes or hair or *everything* was perfect, but rather, the vows. The presence of friends and family and the commitment that we were fortunate enough to be able to make to each other.

Incidentally, I have read in a lot of places (particularly offbeat bride, because that's where I frequently read stuff) comments women made about their justification for changing their name being that they 'were not particularly attached to their surname' and that they 'wanted to have the same surname as their children'.
I didn't change my name, never had any intention of doing so, and nor was it expected of me by either my husband or my family. Why? Because I like my surname, I'm quite attached to it because I've lived with it for 31 years, and wasn't about to sacrifice this for another (albeit nice) name in honour of a cultural tradition I don't endorse.
And... I *do* have the same name as my children, because they have my name. If we had more, they would also have my name, it's not really a question for either of us, and as such I wonder if the comments that women make with regard to 'not being particularly attached to their surnames' come from the assumption that they will change their name as they get older?
I don't care if people know or not know that N and I are married; that wasn't the purpose of the exercise. So in this sense, name changing seems like a superfluous exercise.

Dude, did you seriously just post that?!

OH.MY.GOD.

I stupidly followed a link from fellow blogger East Side Bride's twitter that said something along the lines of, "you owe me money for making me read this"... curiosity sparked, I absolutely had to click on the link. And once again, we see how katey should always heed the cautionary advice of others when it comes to clicking on links (too many examples to list, but suffice to say that old-people porn was involved, and it was gruesome). In this particular example, the blogger describes her ovulation, periods, and VAGINAL DISCHARGE.

I shit you not.

Sticky, mucousy, whatever - It was the car crash I couldn't look away from, the YouTube video of a dude having a gigantic cyst/zit squeezed on his back that made me want to vomit so much I had to watch it twice (the second time was to get it out of my head).

Ergh.


So, now I cannot tell if I ate too much of G & Y's chocolate, and this is making me feel ill, or if the vomity feeling is from thinking about this woman's upcoming pap-smear.


Please, for the love of all that's chocolatey and good, save yourself and spare yourself the mental imagery.
The puppy will thank you.

(cute kid pic is from this site about Ecuador. NOT vaginal discharge).


.is it ironic that this is not the first time I have blogged about vaginas  - in a literal, not figurative sense - Jennifer Love Hewitt would be so proud!

Everyone always leaves

I love this:

Everyone always leaves.

from Unhappy Hipsters, via Mouthful of Joy

So, so funny, I don't know how I didn't discover this blog sooner. (Well, I do, and involves having a life, particularly one that incorporates lots of academic study, sport, dogs and children, but it sounds much less dramatic when put like that).