The Utilitarian Knitter

Wow. A whole week went by - how about that?

Look what I got today:




a lovely package from Jo, with the yarn I won on her birthday contest (thanks Jo!). This package was such a treat to receive - along with the yarn she included a pound of Dunkin' Donuts coffee (hilarious), a bag of quite intriguing veggie chips, a package of something called "TastyKakes", four ornament creme eggs (think Easter creme but slightly smaller, with a different wrapper), and several lovely post cards from the Eastern Seaboard. SO NICE. Note the hand stealing into the frame to investigate the ornament egg...Charlotte is monstrously addicted to chocolate and can smell it at fifty paces. I think the yarn will become a hat and wristers for me...I may even cast on tomorrow as this will go FAAAAST and will be a nice break from the Aran. (I'm in sleeveland, by the way.)

And, I received some more yarn for the Print o' the Wave stole, from my Fibre Sistah Shelley. (By the way Shelley I will TOTALLY phone you tomorrow with my Visa number...SO SORRY.) She came through in the crisis and got me a very very close match to the original. Sadly it's not close enough for me to continue knitting the edging from where I am - I had to rip the entire edge off. We're talking about forty repeats, people. Luckily I remembered in the very nick of time that I should take a picture for the blog, so I snapped a couple quick while I still had four inches left. Sometimes I'm not a very good blogger that way - I tend to forget there's an interest in my works in progress, and don't bother to document them.




Anyhow, I somehow didn't take a picture of the new yarn (see above re: not a very good blogger) but I did manage to wind the better part of it into a ball during knit night tonight, by hand. I'll show it to you next time, when I've finished the ball and started knitting the edging on. The new colour contains most of the old colours, plus a few dashes of quite a dark bronzey brown colour. It should be nice....although of course HAVING THE WHOLE STOLE KNIT IN THE SAME DYE LOT WOULD BE BETTER.




One good thing about this situation is that I will be able to weigh the skein before knitting the edging, then weigh it after knitting the edging, thereby deducing the exact amount needed for making this stupid pattern. My incredible bad luck will in the end be turned to the common good, rendering my frustration, annoyance, and expense totally worth it.



Right.

A Tragedy in 55 Words and 2 Pictures.

One day, two sisters were playing happily in the living room. The older one was singing to herself while colouring in her sketch book. The younger one was sitting on the couch, idly playing with a pair of kids' scissors and looking around for something to do.


She found something to keep herself busy.



The end.

Happy Thanksgiving!

The picture of me with my going-away-party cake reminded me of this picture. Even my mom had a hard time picking me out in the crowd. I think my eyes have 3 modes: smiling (shut), normal, and extra-wide for emphasis.

A Call to Stamps.

We Have A Guest Blogger Today







Hello everybody. My name is Charlotte and I am six years old. My sister Emily is 3. I was hoping that some of you or maybe your children would send us a Christmas card because I have never got one before. And if you would like to send me a card, I could send you one too. I would like to get cards from children all around the world.

If you would like to exchange Christmas cards with me, please email my mum. She can tell you my name and address.


Merry Christmas everyone.

:-)


- Charlotte
PS: this is us on my birthday.



-----------------------------------------------

I have a very sad little girl here who tells me tearfully that she has never received a Christmas card and thinks that if she can send some out, other people will respond. I suspect it's all a ploy to get my new Nutcracker Christmas cards for her very own, but sympathize with her plight. Personal mail is very fun indeed -- and very rare.

If you would like to exchange Christmas cards with us, please drop me a line at the address in the sidebar. You'll get a card from my children, with maybe a picture in it or something from our town. I did actually buy a packet of international stamps the other day, thinking vaguely of starting a bloggy card exchange, so I'm all set here.

Any takers?

Na Na, Why Don't You Get A Job?

So I am now looking for another job. Exciting! Well, so far. If, in 3 mos., I still don't have a job, it may not be so exciting.

Other exciting things: The other day, as I was driving down Rt. 66, I got the vehicular equivalent of a piece of toilet paper stuck to my shoe -- a piece of cardboard in the road flew up and became stuck, with the help of velocity, to the grill and hood of my car. It was pretty hilarious and also surprisingly embarrassing to have a piece of trash quite obviously stuck to my car. I waved to people rubbernecking in the cars I passed. My passengers laughed at me. The cardboard fell off only when I eventually stopped the car.

Cattail Run Farm

If you've never been to my place, I hope you can come visit sometime. Well, it's not really my place. The lady who owns the Farm is a small, elderly Englishwoman who is fond of gates and English gardens. It is a beautiful, serene, idyllic and bucolic place. I wish I could live here forever!

I have a hard time doing it justice by capturing it in pictures, so I rarely try, but recently I snapped a few with my phone's camera.

These are from a few weeks ago when we were blessed with several foggy, overcast mornings which I find strangely beautiful.

Enjoy.

I live in the Pool House at Cattail Run Farm. This is a view of the pool, which is covered for the winter. Outside the frame of this picture is my house to the right and the main house to the left. I thought these dew-covered spider webs looked cool.
The view of the webs and beyond from the other side of the gate.

The gardens are cleared out for winter, but spring through summer, the inside of the wall is lined with flower beds that bloom with one type of flower after another. Very well-planned.

This aluminum tray, glass bulb cover and broken flower pot have been sitting on the wall for more than a year. My Englishwoman friend and I have this in common -- I don't notice things like this as in need of being cleaned up. In fact, I think it's a beautiful study in texture, color and contrast. The moss and weeds growing out give a unique, bonsai-like appearance.

Closer inspection of the unlikely bonsai.


No, not a Toyota ad: More of the property. Almost every evening, deer come parading through here. I've also seen wild turkeys and foxes.

The vegetable garden at left is directly behind my house. The Gatorade bottles on a string are to deter deer. They apparently work.

This little guy runs along the walls and just looks so cute. Finally got a picture of him.

I Want To Be A Clone.

My daughter was over at a friend's house today. Charlotte is six, and so is Rosie. When I came to pick her up, Charlotte excitedly showed me that Rosie had a new poster in her room - her dad had bought it for her. For his six year old girl.




So I get that there are probably some people out there who think there is nothing objectionable about this. I, myself, admire NF's sassiness. She's Canadian, too, from my own city (Go Nelly!). But for a six year old? Couldn't the assault on her innocence wait a while? Shouldn't she still be playing with dolls and watching Super Grover?


Images are powerful. And our society bombards us with images that whole corporations full of people have studied, researched, tested, and developed for one purpose: to COMPEL US TO BUY THINGS. Is it in the best interests of a multi-billion dollar industry to encourage women to be happy and content with themselves as they are? Do they want us to be the kind of women who say "No thanks, I walk a fair bit: I don't need to buy a membership to your gym"? Or, "My breasts are just fine as they are, thanks - they don't need to be lifted and tucked and tightened and fluffed up. Keep your scalpel/cruel underwires/expensive creams to yourself."


I'll admit something. When I look into my daughters' future, (and obviously that future is not as far away as I had hoped it would be) I feel fear. I don't know how much I can do to help them - I try, but in my heart I know they will hear and obey all those messages from the purveyors of the Beauty Myth. They will be like every other girl: with an inward hatred of their bodies, in part or in whole. They will agonize and struggle, feel inadequate - or overadequate - and cry bitter tears about their upper arms. They will make distasteful faces into the mirror. They will heave gigantic sighs and say to their girlfriends, "I wish I had your thighs."


Ask me how I know.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JaH4y6ZjSfE

Soy un perdedor AND lucky 7 facts

Well, I'm back. I've been thinking over the past few days about things I wanted to condense here in my public, online journal. Mainly, I feel 1/2 like a loser and 1/2 totally optimistic. The optimistic half of me is because my last day of work was Tuesday and now I'm free! (and poor) but mainly free!!!! I'm excited to find a job I love or at least like and will lead me to a job I love. The loser half of me is, of course, the white half. JUST kidding!! :) haha OK, now that I've ostracized 100% of my readership ... It's just that I have realized a recurring theme in my life -- that I half-(pardon my French)ass everything. I recognize that, of trials I have yet to overcome -- on top of a severe procrastination problem -- I have a fear of failure, so, instead of trying my best and then failing, I have some sort of twisted way of protecting myself by not even trying, and then if (usually WHEN) I fail, having the excuse of, "Well, I didn't even really try, so ..." as IF had I tried, I would have totally shut the whole thing down.

I see this theme permeating every area and era of my whole life: from primary school through university, I did just enough to get by, never excelling. In high school sports, I did just enough, never pushing myself. In work -- well, I have more closely approached testing my limits (except in my most recent job which was a complete fiasco). I am most afraid I may have done -- or will do -- this in relationships, romantic and platonic; not "working" hard enough to be a better participant. In my RS calling, I know I could have done so much more to "magnify" it.

Most recently, I am thinking about this marathon I did last weekend. Yes, I did finish a marathon on Sat. but that's about all I can say about it. I finished before they shut the course, but just barely. Pathetic is too nice an adjective to describe my performance. (Here comes more Francais) Piss-poor is approaching a more appropriate description. My ever-the-optimist, sweet, boyfriend/fiance/BFF pointed out that "Hey, you didn't even TRAIN for this thing! And you finished! Wow!" Which, contrary to his intent, got me thinking about this half-ass theme to my life. I should rename this blog Half-Ass Outlaw. Except then people would be thinking of my derrière, which, thankfully, is fully endowed. Haha! But seriously, I realized that I don't try; I have never put myself totally out there on anything. I am too afraid of failure. If anyone has any tips on how to get over this crippling flaw, I am all ears. I mean, you know, I'll try to give you my full attention, not just halfway listen to you (heh heh, get it?).

ON TO more interesting (I think) topics.

I'm sure you're all versed in this game of tag, and (thank you, Leslie!) now it's my turn to share 7 "random" things about me:

1) I rarely get sick. Instead, I get Major Medical Emergencies Often Requiring Surgery:
At 6, I took a spill off my bike, going airborne before landing on my head, getting knocked unconscious and sliding down the road on my face, additionally breaking my arm.
At 16 I had an allergic reaction to Keflex/Cephalexin (antibiotic) resulting in a trip to the hospital for shots of Benadryl and steroids in my hips, which made me majorly trip out in front of my mom.
At 19, I almost died from a burst appendix that, after emergency surgery, left me in the hospital on antibiotics for 10 days with a drainage tube hanging out of my gut for 2 weeks.
At 21, I had a chronic, unidentifiable strain of throat infection that resulted in the removal of my tonsils, after which I became severely dehydrated from not ingesting anything because IT HURT LIKE NO OTHER -- trust me, NEVER get your tonsils removed, no matter WHAT doctors recommend, if you are over the age of 10.
At 24, I had my wisdom teeth, all impacted, removed -- but that's typical. How about this: The same year, I discovered a benign fibroadenoma (tumor) the size of a pea in my right breast, which I had surgically removed. If you're ever in Honolulu, in need of an anesthesiologist, may I recommend Dr. Curtis F. Lavatai.
I don't really have much else that can be removed while retaining normal function, so we'll see what Major Medical Emergency I encounter next.

2) I am terrified of drowning. Of the two, I'd definitely rather be burned alive. In almost 2 years of living in Hawaii, the farthest I got from shore was where I could touch, except when I was snorkeling. Nope, no surfing for me.

3) It has recently been brought to my attention that I open my eyes really wide for emphasis when I'm speaking. I was told this about 6 mos. ago and then I noticed it when I was talking to someone, facing a mirror. My eyes looked SCARY big when I opened them wide for emphasis! Sorry I've been frightening people by making my eyes big my whole life!

4) Sometimes I just have to dance. I LOVE dancing! If I haven't danced in a while, I can feel that I just need to "dance it out." I think Neil and I are going to have 2-person dance parties. They might just end up being dance competitions. Or battles. Whatever, I could smoke him :)

5) I want to travel the world. First stop: Japan. I just quit my job in hopes of securing one where I can travel to different countries, meet foreign people and learn their languages. My dream job (other than being a copy editor) is to be a Foreign Service Officer with the State Department.

6) For many years I have wished that one day I would have red-headed children. I just think red -- no, auburn -- hair (as long as it's not paired with pasty white skin) is so beautiful! My biological mother (yes, I'm adopted) has red hair and green eyes, so it's not so far-fetched. And how funny would that be to look either like a nanny to my own children, or have people think I've got a "red-headed stepchild" lol!

7) I love suntanning. I actually pity those who have to wear sunscreen. I think it's only for babies: those under the age of two and those who are weaker than I. I figure my chances of developing skin cancer are slightly lowered by my high melanin levels. At least that's what I tell myself as I let the sun's rays work their magic for hours on end.

I think I am now supposed to tag other people, but I don't know 7 people to tag, and almost everyone I know has already been tagged. Except Tara! I don' think you've been tagged. For the other 6 tags, well, if you happen to be a random person reading my blog, consider yourself tagged!

Progress for Its Own Sake

Sometimes I feel like I’m climbing a mountain.

The Aran is coming along slowly, since there has been a lot else going on to distract me.

Here in BC, the government is quite amenable to homeschoolers, even providing us with funding to teach our children at home. The hoop we have to jump for the funding is, we have to submit a portfolio full of samples of the child’s work three times yearly, to assure the Ministry that we are meeting the same education outcomes which they are (or rather CLAIM TO BE) teaching public school children. It’s portfolio time now, so I am madly scanning Provincial Learning Outcomes, throwing together worksheets for Charlotte to complete, and sorting all this information into a binder. It takes a lot of time, particularly for a free-form educator like me, who covers most of the material either by contextual reading, or verbally in discussion form, rather than by rote with worksheets for the child to fill out.

It’s not that my system is a bad one. Charlotte is obviously learning a lot, albeit above her grade level. (One of my concocted worksheets has the question “What is the term used to refer to animals who are most active during twilight (i.e., dusk and dawn)?” C. correctly answered “crepuscular”.) It’s just that it doesn’t result in stacks of completed papers with red check marks, and endless lists of addition and subtraction problems. This makes portfolios awfully time-consuming. But, hey: a thousand dollars per year per child is worth it.

And then there is the common cold, which is making my life a living hell for the second time in a month. Both the kids have it, so I’ve not had much sleep lately, getting up every few hours to blow noses, get drinks of water, doses of Dimetapp, more pillows. It all makes the knitting harder.

But, Mum and I went to Winners yesterday, and I came away with this:

I’ve been looking for YEARS for nice Christmas ornament storage, and was quite chuffed to see these beautiful boxes. There are two trays of compartments, each holding twenty ornaments (more, if they’re small). There is also extra room between the layers, and under the lid, for flat things such as tinsel garland. It was $20…I think I’ll be back for at least two more, for my children’s ornament collections.


Speaking of which, isn't it about time I put a countdown banner up?

You surely didn't think.....did you?

There seems to be a misconception that when I said "I wouldn't want my stash to end up at the Thrift Store" I meant "I'm going to give you guys my yarn." In reality I meant "I need to get to the knitting and use up my yarn."


But of course now I feel bad and will probably have some kind of yarn giveaway to buy your affection again.


I have been working on something though, despite all appearances to the contrary. Remember when I said I was going to knock off Eunny's Macho Aran? Well, when I started examining the knit, I realized that there's no such thing as knocking off when it's a traditional Aran sweater. The ropes, cables, braids, what-have-you are all more or less in the public domain. It's just a matter of deciding which ones you want, swatching the panels, putting them together handsomely, and doing a bit of math.

So I just did that, instead.




I changed my mind on the needed size, after having knit 6 or 7 inches of sweater. I needed more width, so I ripped it back and added another rope cable to the outside of the 12 stitch plait. See? Old sweater (sorry about the crappy picture. Arrows indicate where I later added more ropes):




New sweater:




I like it better with the extra rope. Not only is it wider, it's more visually balanced.

For the actual cables, I consulted Cables Untangled. None of the charts are complicated, so I haven't had to photocopy or even write down a pattern, which makes this project just about as portable as a sock.


As the sweater started to take shape I noticed that all the motifs had fairly short repeats (the longest, honeycomb, is 8 rows) resulting in a dense fabric with a small-scale appearance. This wouldn't be my choice all the time, but for this particular sweater it's perfect. Because when complete, this sucker will be under the Christmas tree of a very, very cold person.


The yarn is Classic Al, by Elsebeth Lavold. It's a 50% merino, 50% alpaca worsted weight. This yarn is completely dreamy. I'm not a fan of Elsebeth Lavold's charts (or maybe, I'm not a fan of her pattern editor? test-knitter? someone.) but I have to admit she doesn't make mistakes when it comes to fibre choices and spinning. I've used her Silky Wool and her Silky Tweed, and now the Classic Al. All three are gorgeous, quality yarns.


(And hey - if you feel like trying it out, Webs has it on clearance for $3.49 a ball US!! That's, like, $3.30 a ball Canadian. Which means you can get an entire sweater for about $80, shipping to Canada included, with leftover yarn afterwards. Woot!)


And I realized I forgot to post a picture of Candy&Costume Day. For the first time I just went with the Princess thing. My daughter was shocked and pathetically grateful to be allowed to dress up as a Princess, complete with curling-iron ringlets and actual.....real.....makeup.


"Oh, Mummy, I thought for sure you would say no!! Oh I love you, Mummy."


"I love you too sweetie. And remember: you are strong, you are beautiful with-or-without-a-dress, you are clever, and anything he can do, you can do better. Including saving yourself from towers, dragons, and evil queens. You don't need a man to complete you and you certainly won't be waiting around for some lame Prince to come schmaltzing up on his stupid pony, magnanimously agreeing to kiss you and somehow magically make your life complete just by condescending to "fall in love" with you."


"Yes Mummy." [Absently, while stroking her ringlets with glazed eyes.]

As promised: How A Short Trip To Atlanta Ended A Long Chain Of Events, With Me Quitting My Job OR Zen And The Art Of Sanity Maintenance

Half-Breed Outlaw: Online last left you with a happy scene of colorful, well-accessorized, super-fly suits. However, a dark cloud loomed in the distance, in the form of a promised Part II with a post title foreshadowing the quitting of Half-Breed Outlaw's job ...

Well, dear reader, as promised here is the "MORE" you've been asking for:

There are many things I could say about the circumstances surrounding my resignation from my job, but, as stated in my very first post, I am paranoid. It's probably just a good idea to keep those sorts of things out of the WWW. But if you want to know more, call me :)

Let's just say the irony in last post's foreshadwoing ("Foreshadowing: Upon departure, my itinerary looked good, all flights looked pretty open, with backup flight alternatives just in case ... ") fully developed. If things went to hell on the way to Atlanta, they went somewhere even worse (!) on the way back.

Long story shorter, by 2 p.m. Sunday, ATL was an enormous madhouse, with oversold flights on every airline. Standby was an impossibility. I listed unsuccessfully for 4 US Airways flights. I tried to BUY tix on United and American, to no avail -- they were trying to tempt their own overbooked passengers away with vouchers. Insane. So I spent another night in Atlanta and returned to ATL at 4 a.m. Monday. Got on a flight to Charlotte. Got on a flight to DCA (though I left out of -- and left my car at -- IAD) and got in at about 9 a.m. Of course, from Sun. night through Mon. a.m.
I left messages on the work voicemail, called my boss as soon as she was in -- she subsequently FLIPPED OUT -- etc. Did my due diligence.

***text deleted 11/7/07 by modestmuse***

Now, your opinion: My boss was livid because "standby is not a guarantee, it is no excuse for being late." My dad agrees. He thinks I should have just said I wasn't feeling well ("Well, you weren't, were you, after getting 4 hrs. of sleep?") called in, then shown up at 11 a.m., no big deal. I think it was unfortunate but not a critical deal, considering my type of work and schedule, that I was 3 hrs. late once in 2 yrs. because of unpredictable spillover of weekend plans. Yes, unpredictable. Do you think all the other 1,000's of people at ATL who got bumped from confirmed seats knew they wouldn't get on their flights because of freak circumstance?? What do you think -- irresponsible but forgivable, or inexcusable?

***text deleted 11/7/07 by modestmuse***


OK, for several reasons, I should cut to the chase here:

***text deleted 11/7/07 by modestmuse***


Half-Breed Outlaw goes home, confers with counsel. HBO feels it is TIME to do what she has been wanting to do, but has had no direct motivation to do thus far -- quit. Counsel agrees. Actually, pretty much everyone HBO has conferred with about her job in the past year or so agrees. HBO considers the fact that her upcoming marriage and probable move would have inevitably and shortly brought the same conclusion anyway. Or the fact that she desperately wants to be a copy editor, or a Foreign Service Officer. Or an astronaut j/k. HBO is scared out of her mind as she enters the most stressful 3 days in recent memory: Teaching RS on Sun., presentation in staff meeting Mon., producing letter of resignation to boss on Tues. But she did it and lived to blog about it.

D-Day.

An interesting thing happened after I posted the R.I.P. Meme challenge. There was a short but eerie silence around the blog, then over the next two days I got three emails:

I was going to do your meme, but I tried and couldn't think of anything good to say.

I recently had a loss in my family so this is too close to home for me.

I took a stab at it but didn't like the process...I feel a little jinxed by the idea.

Then, yesterday, I received this:

Liked your idea immensely...thank you for being brave enough to put yourself out there and challenging us to do the same. I don't have anywhere to publish my attempt but I thought I would share.
Attached: "All Saints Day" eulogy.


It was such an honour to receive this piece, from someone who mostly lurks but has commented twice. I read it with so much interest and sympathy, and found myself exclaiming "Hey! Me too!" while reading it.

Olga put up her eulogy the other day...it's a real roller-coaster of emotion: read with caution. The most enthusiastic participant, Jenny, (private blog) has yet to post hers. And I have a promise from Jared and a cautious commitment from Ames to do theirs, too. I'm curious to read them not only to get to know them better, but to see whether my theory will hold true: that, in the end, certain things are common to the heart of us all.

_____________________

If you do end up posting a reflection of yourself, please leave a comment.

Tomorrow, we will put all this behind us and go back to the knitting. I've got some stash to deal with...I really wouldn't want it to end up at the Thrift Store.

Hotlanta

Two weekends ago I went to visit Aly (left), my old roomie from Hawaii who now lives in Atlanta, where I met her friend (who is cousin to some of my Laie friends) Tara (right). We had a blast!

Let's just begin with the several factors that combined to allow me to fly, literally, by the seat of my pants. It was my last weekend to enjoy free flight bennies, so I planned the trip to A-town. I ended up having to work late Fri.; I had no time to go home to pack after work! So I bought a little jacket thing at Target for those cool Hotlanta nights and took off for the airport. Here is the 1st (of 1) amazing feat: A Google Maps search will tell you from the Leesburg Target to IAD should take about 22 min. I made it TO MY GATE in 29 min. A combo of excessive speed, my "employee" parking and security IDs (who said volunteering doesn't have its benefits?), no lines and sheer luck made that possible. Then, nothing but purse in hand, I got on the flight I had listed for standby.

Foreshadowing: Upon departure, my itinerary looked good, all flights looked pretty open, with backup flight alternatives just in case ...

Then everything went to hell. I got stuck in Charlotte, NC; one of the WORST places in the WORLD to be stuck. (I am admittedly ethnocentric when it comes to deeming locations suitable for my personal vacationing or habitation.) I stayed in this skanky hotel and left the next morning. A highlight of the van trip from CLT to the hotel was a drunken southern WASPy type explaining something about "segregation -- no, I don't mean segregation, I mean, well, you know what I meant" to our black driver. Aha. Uh-uh.*
* I like how a blog gives one the freedom to disclose their ethnocentricities and ridicule another's ignorance in one sweeping paragraph.

Arrived in Atlanta just in time to see -- nothing.

This street was, of course, cool ;)
We toured downtown till about noon, and I swear I saw about 50 people total, 85% being homeless people who had nowhere else to be but out. Otherwise the city seemed eerily uninhabited, even to the point of us passing this completely empty parking lot, with a recorded voice proclaiming from loudspeakers "Pay only at designated booths. Do not pay unauthorized persons for parking ..." in a Ray Bradbury-esque scene.

In the Underground (creepy railroad-station-turned-indoor-strip-mall) I did pick up the sweetest T-shirt for my honey; one of those rare gems that's only in the window of the store, but they get it out for you, and then you find out it costs only $5(!!!!) The store, African Pride, was just like the one in the beginning of The Hot Chick. I hope you get to see the shirt being modeled by my Hot, er, Dude: A stylized illustration of 3 Nubian princesses, with the words "The Beautiful Black Woman: When God Created The Black Woman, He Was Just Showing Off." Fitting, since I am Nubian and his nickname for me is "Beautiful." Awww!

Aly and I had general types of fun, the highlights including, and in no particular order: making a Punjabi dinner; going to a weak, Mormons-only basement party where Britney's "Lucky" (a blast from the should-remain-in-the past) was played from the night's party CD; sleeping for 12 hrs. straight; a visit to the Atlanta Temple; watching Aly make beautiful bead creations; dyeing of my hair BLACK!!!!

I hope you are not worn out reading this; I am worn out blogging. I think I will have to continue the story with the second installment: "How A Short Trip To Atlanta Ended A Long Chain Of Events, With Me Quitting My Job" (no, seriously!) OR "Zen And The Art of Sanity Maintenance." Till then!

I leave you with this parting shot of the most fly suits, coming straight at you from the ATL's hottest menswear store -- you can't argue with dolla-bill tie clips and fedoras: