OK, I Love You, b'Bye!

Hi Blogland. The time has come to do a Rae and say goodbye to this exercise in brain barfing. I know this is the right thing to do because when the idea came to stay with me this morning, I felt not sadness or tension or a clutching in my blog-inspiring nether region but peace. Calm, blissful peace. I'm sure I'll still read and comment from time to time on others' blogs and even expect one day I may be back in the blogging business but right now time does not permit this luxurious dabbling in narcissism (you are an indulgent lot!) and Guilt is a too toxic taskmaster. One day very soon, my employer will discover I am utterly devoid of talent for testing web applications, the Jujube will scorn all interaction with her mother, and she will not deign to leave her darkened bedroom wearing anything produced by a set of my needles. Then, I expect, I shall return with plenty to say about living with a "tween" and having all the time in the world to knit and no attractive body in the world for which to do it. Until then, fiber-loving friends.

Over and out.

Pilgrim Sex

If you've ever been to Plimouth Plantation in Plymouth, Massachusetts you'll know that the United States' founding Religious Zealots slept sitting up in stubby little beds. You learn this by speaking to the role-playing historians who populate the living museum. Naturally, Coach being Coach, this leads to distracting thoughts of just how exactly one might delicately probe the depth of knowledge and dedication to history the Plimouth Plantation historians possess. In particular, how much do they actually know about how little Puritans were conceived? Have they researched this topic? What has the nature of this research been?

First question to pop into Coach's head: "Are you telling me that the Pilgrims did the nasty sitting up?" No, no, can't ask that. Too crude.

Second try: "How did they go about making their babies, what with their Puritanism and their short beds and all?" No again. Might offend fellow museum-goers by presenting sex education to their school-aged children in a learning environment.

Third try: "So that means the Missionary position post-dates the original settlement of the colonies?" No, still too indelicate for school children.

Try-try again: "They slept in beds sitting up? So how did they, y'know..." eyebrow-wiggle, eyebrow-wiggle.

The Learned Historian angle: "Insofar as research suggests the semi-prone sleeping position offered a probable solution to colonial nasal rhinitis, has there been any further study on the modalities of short beds on fertility and conception in 17th Century European settlers in North America?"

As this Thanksgiving holiday approaches it is hard to find references to the story of starving Pilgrims and turkey-sharing aboriginals amongst the Big Sale Starts at 4 AM Be The First In Line Friday Only!!! advertisements flashing at you in the style of migraine-induced visual disturbances from your nearest lighted screen. It is worth remembering the legend, if only to marvel at how faithful the traditional meal is to the use of native foodstuffs with its turkey and cranberry and maize and squash.

I shall drink a toast tomorrow to unwarranted generosity, exotic culinary delicacies, Pilgrim sex, and you, dear readers. I am most heartily grateful for all these blessed things.

The Croupier

No, I've not taken a new job though if Massachusetts' Governor Deval Patrick has his way, this may become an option. I am labelling myself The Croupier for my new and thankfully short-lived hobby wrangling a three year old with croup. There's nothing like a 2:30 a.m. shower-steam sauna followed by 2 hours of listening to the breathing of a sleeping child to make one's day job especially hateful. Fortunately for me, my manager's kids are also suffering from the same virus so he has been sympathetic to my plight. Late arrivals and extra work-from-home days all forgiven. Wish I could say the same about my deadline.

Oh well, it's Marketing Reporting Software. Nobody dies if they can't register their product on-line. I said something similar to the Documentation Dude I was working with the other day and I think he was horrified. He tried to talk some sense into me by telling me that Marketing people are the ones who lose their nut so badly when their software misbehaves, they get filmed throwing their blackberries through 27th floor windows by prescient and conveniently located co-workers who then post the "candid" film to YouTube or e-mail it to their Joke mailing list where it begins ticking down its half-life until 10 years later your mother sends you "this really funny film" she "thinks you'll like."

Whatever. Like I said, nobody dies. It's not like the software I test tracks possible drug interations on your pharmacy's prescription system. No, no. I'm making the world safe for spam and pop-up ads. In fact, by ensuring the thing goes out the door buggy, my poor performance is in fact a service to Humanity.

Knitting progresses on the Dragonfly blanket. I'm working on the border now which means it makes for lousy picture-taking since its six-hundred seventy-odd stitches are all wadded onto a 29 inch size 6 circular (I tried to remedy that, I did! But my LYS had not a single 36 or 40 inch bamboo or Quicksilver circular in stock.) You know what this means, don't you? It means a portion of this year's Christmas gift money from Mom & Dad has already been pre-ordained for a set of Knit Picks' Harmony's with the 40 inch cable add-ons. I intend to knit magic loop socks next year. I saw a bunch of clever ladies at the yarn shop in St. Germain, Wisconsin who had two socks going simultaneously on a single 40 inch circular. I WANT TO DO THAT!!! It's such a perfect antidote to my Make Two allergy.