Random Thursday: Purple Skies, Baby Owls, and Lady Chatterly’s Leprechaun

Random Thursday (ˈrandəm ˈTHərzdā): the day on which Sarah plunks down all the odd bits and pieces she’s been sent by friends or has otherwise stumbled upon this week in an effort to avoid writing a real post, the assembly of which usually ends up taking twice as much time as sitting down and creating actual content.

Got felled with one of my blinding (and I mean that literally) migraines yesterday, and so spent the day in a nice quiet room sleeping off my meds and sipping nice, hot mugs of caffeine.

Possibly at the same time.  I don’t really remember.

But I’m feeling better today—a little dizzy, but that’s nothing new—and also very thankful for friends who have sent me so much stuff this month that I already had this post pretty much pre-assembled by the time I could bear to look at a screen again.

Thanks, guys!

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Knitbats!

Remember my Purple Elephant rant from a couple years ago?

Looks like I may have to break out the %&#$ double-pointed needles again.

This (these?) are Boo.

Boo’s pattern is on sale at the Mochimochi Land shop.

I don’t want to wrestle with a handful of small sticks for three hours
just trying to cast on, no matter how adoraboo
(ahem)
he/she/they is/are.

Maybe I should send the pattern to my friend Grace instead,
as a sort of self-serving holiday gift?

(Don’t tell her, Cha—let it be a surprise!)

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A Short Physics Poem

Roses are red.
Chromaticity’s wavy.
That’s why the sky isn’t purple:
It’s gravy.

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Catris

This is a good visual metaphor for how I’m piecemeal writing my Nanonovel this week . . .

 . . . except with plot elements and werewolves and swanmanes instead of kitties.

And some of the blocks would be hissing at each other and/or pointing guns.

Or threatening to take each other’s P.I. licenses away.

Or scent marking the lower levels.

Never mind.

(Thanks again, caitlin!)

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Because Baby Owl

To misquote Robert A. Heinlein,

“Baby owls, like butterflies, need no excuse.”

He actually said “little girls” instead of owls,
but in my experience, little girls seem to need a lot of excuses,
and tend to deliver them even before you’ve asked.

(Stolen from Paula’s FB feed—thanks, Paula!)

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Troll of the D’urbervilles

My friend Siobhan sent me the link to this video, with the subject heading:

“Guess I can’t give you any more crap about the wereduck thing.”

No, Vannie. No, you can’t.

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The Aftermath . . .

I had a migraine aura yesterday that blinded me to everything but silver, jazz-dancing sparkles for an hour or so.

No pain this time—I can usually head that off with meds and a cool, dark room, if I catch it early enough—but it dawned on me that I might have pushed myself a little too hard the past few days and that staring at a screen for thirty-six out of  seventy-two hours might not be recommended for someone without a history of vision-related migraine problems.

So after my eyes cleared, I took the kids out to get my husband an extra Father’s Day present* and to play at the family museum for the afternoon.  No computers, no phones, no nothing.

We had ice cream on the way home and picked up some fresh corn from the savvy farmer who always sets up his stand a few crucial feet outside the property line of the grocery store.**   Later, we had hamburgers and corn on the cob, and hosed the kids down afterward in the back yard.  It was fun.

I did sneak online to check e-mail and a few of my favorite blogs, but decided anything  more would attract the attention of the silver sparkles.  So I called it a night and actually slept for seven hours straight without offspring interruptions.  I know, late birthday present.

And this morning, I had supportive comments and a recipe for chocolate-chip pumpkin muffins (courtesy of Lyra), which I made for breakfast, endearing myself to the clan and providing positive reinforcement for letting Mommy sleep through the night.

So things are looking up, even if it is Monday and I’m working the late shift at the library, surrounded by four days worth of work.

My regular writing schedule will resume tomorrow, which will, one hopes, include the time to do a more relevant and entertaining post.

I’m thinking the words will come more easily for the break.

Well . . . at least I’ll be able to see them.

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*A memory card for the palm-sized camera we’d already bought, plus the ice cream maker

**  I wanted tomatoes, too, big, heavy, almost translucent red jewels that promised summer in every bite . . . but I blew most of my cash on mint chocolate chip.  While I can’t bring myself to truly regret that decision, I’ll be heading back to the stand really soon.

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