Excited about simple things

I don't wear much make-up. I think it comes from being raised in Colorado in the mid-70s. With my long straight hair, Cher and Emmylou Harris were my style icons; a girl could pretty much get away with a little shadow and mascara, and be done with it. When I was in the military, the older I got, the less spackle I messed with. After I got out, well, that's when my carefree makeup approach came to a screeching halt.

Somewhere in the past 20 years, I lost the ability to wear eyeshadow. Gasp!

I have greasy eyelids. Say that at any beauty counter, and the sales girl (yeah, I said it) will remark that your eyelids have no oil glands (and therefore you must be nuckin' futz, lady). That does not impede my ability to crease both expensive and cheap eyeshadows in less than half an hour. Even the waterproof stuff. I've never been able to wear the world's most popular mascara (Maybelline Great Lash) because it migrates and then I look like a tired, rabid raccoon.

I had to work for a PRK study to figure it out. One of the opthamologists mentioned that there are two kinds of tears-oily and regular. Some people have oily ones, some are normal.

Oh.

Which explains why I don't have pronounced crow's feet, despite smoking for years, but my (non-smoking) little brother does. My eyes are like my mom's, and his are more like dad's.

Well, that knowledge was useful, but not necessarily power. Now I learned to look at labels-most eyeshadow primers have beeswax or mineral oil in them. This weekend, I got a sample of Urban Decay's Eyeshadow Primer Potion. My eyeshadow is uncreased!

I feel like a teenager that just GOT permission to wear make-up!

Pretty Greasy Chili and Entrelac I won't finish

It was 62 this morning. That signals fall for us. DH is having co-workers over for a proposal writing crunch this afternoon, so I am making the best chili known to mankind. It'll clog your arteries in a heartbeat. It contains sausage AND butter. And hamburger. And chili meat.

Yeah, I know. But it's also pretty. Black beans, white beans, kidney beans, tomato, and three colors of pepper. It's a party in the bowl.

Here in Texas, real chili doesn't contain beans. Yeah, so sue me. I went to Alice Cooper's Town restaurant in Phoenix and ate Frito Pie once. (It's one of my little brother's guilty pleasures) After a few bites, I leaned over to my brother and said "This has KETCHUP in it!" Which must be how MamaAliceCooper made it when he was a kid. So if you wanna bitch at someone about their chili, go talk to Alice. I make pretty chili. And it's pretty tasty.

Two weeks ago, I had nothing on the needles, and was still in mid move. The last box in the door was Needful Yarn's Cotton Joy.


As it turns out, it was a bit too orange tropical to suit me, so I added some Lara to anchor it firmly into the red zone.


Trouble is, I never seem to finish my entrelac projects. My knitting ADD takes over....

Lookie!

My niece sent me a text as I was pulling into Hancock Fabric's parking lot. "He's here, I can hear him crying!" So I picked up the two lousy skeins of floss that I drove a total of 70 miles to get ... that IS freaking ridiculous, isn't it? For seven little stitches?

But I NEEDED them. I am really pleased with the way it came out!!

And look at what ELSE I have to show you:

(Dang, that is a schnoz!!)

I present Brandon, Le Nephew!!!  I have NO idea what the middle name is.

I christen thee 'Paste'

A while back, I posted about baby names on Ravelry. That thread grew and grew and grew. Opinions are like ---holes, and everyone is very sensitive about what they name their children. My brother is going to bring a small one home at the end of the month. They've got a delivery appointment, but if left to his own devices, this kid could pop on my Dad's birthday. Of course, THAT can't happen, because everyone's standing in line for the OB. He emailed us about names today.

They have decided they won't name him after Dad. Ok. They've selected Brandon as a first name, but they need help with the middle name.

"However, everyone can have input on his middle name. The choices are Michael, Justin, Jacob or Tyler."

Those are nice names, but Brandon is SUCH a common name, and all the middles are super common too. I am slack-jawed and drooling, here. This is like a random sampling of baby names from the Social Security Administration Baby Top 40 of the past 10 years.

Stupid Walmart

This is almost done-I need two lousy skeins of embroidery floss to finish it up-but someone in corporate WallyWorldLand decided that there was no need to carry DMC in 4-H Land.  Now I gotta drive 35 miles for two lousy skeins.  It's for soon to be born nephew.

Moving is

a lot of work

 full of potential

look, knitting!  This is a blog about knitting-a 100 yard hat for Knita's challenge.

when you are reminded that your common things are beautiful

a time for hopeful possibilities

Moving and the Gangs of East Cupcake

We've spent most of the weekend moving. Not a whole lot actually moved, but we dragged some big heavy stuff across town. I have the bruises to prove it. (This actually got me some sympathy from DH. This is good.)

Yesterday, we went in to SA to get 'stuff'. We both had tummy trouble, but neither would admit it to the other. Too much restaurant food. After the fact, I told him he was making me NUTS going in circles in the parking lot, looking for a space (there were PLENTY). He told me he almost lost it in the home accessories store. They had a lot of bath accessories, and they had plenty of potpourri stench to cover anything. We had a good laugh about that.

We came home, and I was fussing around the kitchen. Holy CRAP! There were four figures on the porch!! "HONEY!"

They whirled around to look at me. You could see the animosity building on their faces, their hair literally stood on end, and the leader mumbled in a low, throaty tone. The little pregnant girl looked at me with scared eyes.

Sugar trotted over to look.

Yes, I was terrorized by a gang, a herd of chihuahuas. And they are mouthy little shits! They charged DH twice, and then he led the whole marauding band back across the street and told their 'dad' on them. Damn neighbor kids!