Random Thursday: Ninja Banjos, Mispronunciations, and Serious Roughage

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.

It’s been brought to my attention that true “Random” Thursdays probably wouldn’t have related elements.

Okay.

______________________

Seems Legit

Baby Wombat

One out of one Sunny Ninjas agree, in case you were wondering.

Sunny Ninja

My husband texted me this picture, with the caption,
“Nobody better take her stuff.”

My reply:
“No one can find her stuff in that room.”

His reply:
“Ninja Stuff!”

Fair enough.

 ooooooOOOOOoooooo

Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch

If you haven’t subscribed to Anglophenia, yet, be warned:
I have no intention of letting up until you do.

Siobhan Thomson explores the idiosyncrasies of Britain,
while occasionally poking fun at Americans
in a way that makes us totally agree with her.

It’s a gift.

 

For those who really want to know:

You’re welcome.

 ooooooOOOOOoooooo

Knittin’ Broccoli

Broccoli knits

Click for the pattern! It’s on Ravelry! What a shocker!

I think we’ve probably established by now that I enjoy the thought of knitting things
more than I ever actually take the time to prove
that I’ve enjoyed having knitted them.
And I don’t like I-cord.

But I feel an intense need to knit up a head of these
and perhaps give them out for Christmas.

Try to act surprised.

 ooooooOOOOOoooooo

Poor Wandering Banjos and a Smug Pianist

Since Boston in smothered in snow,

have two Smothers Brothers and the Boston Pops.

(Hang on until 2:46.  You will be rewarded.)

If you’re wondering if you missed the banjos, you did.
Because they’re NINJAS.

But I digress . . .

I can finally breathe without hurting myself,* I finished not just one but two chapters —one for each project**—fired them off to their respective destinations . . .

. . . and knocked off early to spend the past half hour searching for something I barely remembered from my misspent youth:

Comedy gold, I tell you.

___

*Though the cough remains. It sounds like I’d auditioning for the role of Coffin Harriet in a genderbending version of Soul Music.   One brownie point if you get the reference, two if you can supply the author.

**If anyone’s wondering, I kept the Redhead.   She’ll give my critiquers something to sink their teeth into.  They like that.  A lot.