Fry time

Almost forgot to update: Mama Molly (the fish) let loose with a new batch of a couple dozen fry last weekend. Probably more. Can't count darting little slivers of fishiness very easily. Seriously, these fish need a new hobby other than sex.

My offer to provide you with entertaining fishies still stands, people. All you have to do is speak up.

Anyone?

Bueller?

Bang

As I sit in my living room at the onset of the holiday weekend, this is what runs through my head: I'm all for celebrations and patriotic displays and pyrotechnics in general, but I get a little edgy in the summertime when everyone and their brother is lighting Roman candles in the alley all night. Call me crazy, but black powder sounds like gun powder. Dial 911, or no? Sigh.

(Good lord, I sound like an old woman - "Crazy kids, get off my lawn" and all that. Oy.)

Mollies, mollies everywhere

If they were insects or rodents, we'd have a serious issue on our hands.As it stands, all is well.

Free things

Happy Shop Hop weekend! The weather here in the Twin Cities has been perfect for a good meander, drive, picnic - pretty much whatever your heart has desired.

Paperless patterns
Head over to Knitting Daily's website for downloadable bundles of five sock patterns and seven lace patterns. A quick registration (if you haven't already), and you're set. Offer ends soon, I'm assuming, so get 'em while the gettin's good.

Aquatic adoption
Auntie Audi has a friend who is relocating and couldn't take the livestock with her. Audi made a mercy call, and two hours later she and two coolers arrived at my apartment where Kidlet and I opened our door to a school of mollies: two ginormous adults, and about 50 fry of varying ages. All to prevent the untimely flushing of innocent fishies. I. am. such. a. sucker.

Anyone want a fish or five?

Home alone

Just got dropped off by M&D.And yeah, it's a crappy nighttime photo of your average Saint Paul 4-unit building, but it's mine, dammit, and I get to sleep here tonight. Ahh.

More - so much more - in the very near future.

SA (Stashers Anonymous)

You may have seen the warning signs.

A basket here, under-the-bed containers there, an innocent bag hanging on a chair. The fiber is everywhere, and you have no idea how much there really could be. Time for action.

You can ask, "How big is your stash?" until you are blue in the face, but only when the patient is ready will they take a deep breath and say, "It's big. Taller than me."

Hi, my name is Meema, and I'm a stashaholic.

I can't pinpoint the straw that broke my camel's downy back, but I came home the other day with five transparent totes, pulled yarn from all known stashing points, and set to work sorting by weight.

Crap. A bad sign: I needed more totes.

If you want all the gory details, visit my stash page if you're on Ravelry (I'm Meema there as well). Tote content, top to bottom: random worsted, heavy worsted/aran, Cascade worsted, bulky/novelty/laceweight, fingering/sock, Malabrigo worsted, sport/DK.

There are many more impressive stashes out there, I'm sure. Come clean with me, people. How is your relationship with your stash?

H2O

Day 14 (22) of Blog365.

I like water. Most of the time.

Water - so elemental, so pure - has the power to unlock enormous potential. Note the humble Chia; when given its fill of the fluid, it grows like a weed (I'm sure it's a weed in someone's yard, somewhere). I am a much happier person when I, too, am fully hydrated like the Chia of Kidlet.

My kitchen walls, ceiling, and floor, however, are NOT aficionados of water in quantity. They are saturated to the point of dripping, thanks to the power of gravity and the ancient pipes connected to my upstairs neighbor's kitchen sink.

Meema is not amused.
Meema is not fond of water out of place.
[sniff, sniff]
Meema smells mold.

Oh, sing with me the lament of soggy lathe and plaster!

Of course, like all stories of this nature, the tragedy began on the Friday of a three-day holiday weekend. A weekend when the landlord was out of state with his family. He has since returned, made repair to the offending pipe, and is out of town again. My neighbor still has a barely functional kitchen sink, poor girl. Now we wait for one (?) or two (?!?) weeks for it all to dry out, then needs will be assessed and repairs begin.

The bright spot? Hey, at least I don't own the place. But Nana and Papa may have visitors this weekend...