I Failed!?

Poor little innocent me.  

I just tried to open a new bank account.  The bank representative, my husband and I were having a nice chat, and then it was time for the background check.  

No problem, says I. I don't even have any traffic tickets in my permanent record.

And then I failed.  

Homeland Security failed me.  

Huh?

Really, I'm no threat to anyone.  (Well, maybe to a couple of people, but I'm mostly harmless.)

It turns out that because I have had my credit stolen twice in the past two years, and as a result of that, because I've put a security flag on my credit reports, Homeland Security has put a security flag on ME.  Poor little older-ish ME.

TSA trusts me; I always get TSA pre-check when I fly and I don't have to take off my shoes or empty my bags or undress at security checkpoints. TSA doesn't care about my stolen credit id.

Even the local police don't care about my stolen credit id.

But Homeland Security does care!

I feel so loved.  

(And so inconvenienced. I have to go back tomorrow with my social security card, my birth certificate, and a bill in my name. And then they'll take my money.)

Everything Old is New Again?

Yesterday dH and I went to see Boyhood (loved it!) and then to the Panera next to the theater for dinner.  As we stood in line, a high school girl behind me said to me, "I love your shoes."

My response?

"Really? They're Birkenstocks. People make fun of them."

She and her friend both protested that no, they are cute.

I don't think Birkenstocks have EVER been called cute.  I've heard plenty of other descriptions, most from my younger daughter, but never cute.

Birkenstocks were popular in the 60s, I think, but now? These two high school girls both claimed to wear them, and said that they are comfortable. Both girls are tennis players, so it's not as if they are throwbacks to the hippy generation. Maybe Birks ARE cool!  

So that means:  Tah Dah, so am I!!!

Yay me! 

"Well, Swertz,"

as my older daughter said when we told her she was not allowed to use grown-up expletives.  Not that she would have learned them from us, of course.

Remember how I've told you that I'm a genius? Not modest, but a genius?

Turns out, I'm not.

How do I know?

Well, in the photo above, where there are five purl stitches there should be three. Where there are three purl stitches, there should be five. I don't know HOW I managed to mess this up, but I do know how I'm going to fix it.

My first thought was that I would just rip all 127 stitches out.  Ouch.

But then I realized that I'm only seven rows in, and I can just take the first two of the three knit stitches back and turn them into purl stitches, and take the first two of the five purl stitches back and turn them into knit stitches.

Right?  I think it will work.

Easy peasy, nice and breezy, as my youngest granddaughter says.

I hope.


UPDATE:

It was easy!!!

3,6 (not 5, I was wrong about the count), 3

Took one crochet hook and less than five minutes. 

Why I Do NOT Live in Texas, part two

My daughter just spotted this car in a parking lot near Austin, TX, where she lives, and where she risked life and limb to take this picture. Back AWAY from that car, H! Don't DO that! These people are armed!!!

Yikes!

(Although I suspect Georgia might be just as bad, just not as obvious about it.)

If I Were Three and Twenty

I have been accused, by some closed-minded members of my family, of having somewhat/ very tacky taste.

And I posit that I might just have been born too soon. 

If I were younger, I would have:

a teeny-tiny diamond nose stud,

not my nose, not my diamond

a flowery tattoo on the side of my right foot, like Joss Stone does,

not my feet, they're Joss Stone's

very sparkly eyeliner,

not my eye

or, be still my heart!!!!! sequined um, eyeliner?  eyeshadow?  Whatever it is, I LOVE it.

not my eye either...I hear someone in my family breathing a sigh of relief.

But because I am a few decades past three and twenty, this is all the glitz I dare to wear:

Nail color that is teal or turquoise, whatever you call it. I call it my favorite color.  

When I'm eighty, I will wear all the other stuff. If I remember to.

Why I Do NOT Live in Texas

My daughter, who DOES live in Texas, just posted this on Facebook:

This was on her windshield.  

And yes, it is a tarantula.

And yes, she totally should set that car ON FIRE.  

OMG!!!  OMG!!! OMG!!!  OMG!!!  OMG!!! and so on.....


Update:

I stand corrected.  It is a Daring Jumping Spider, known for its ability to jump up to 40 times its length.

Gosh, that is so much better.  OMG!!!   and so on....   Burn the car.

Whew!

My younger daughter is in Ireland and just bought this beautiful hand knit sweater:

Why do I say Whew?  Because she has asked me for ages to knit one of these for her and I have delayed, delayed and delayed some more.

I did knit a pullover similar to this when I was in college, but when I was in my 20's and stupid, I accidentally felted it.  No need to take this to the dry cleaner's, thought I.  I can wash this on a gentle cycle in the washer.

The sweater I made.  It is VERY small.

The sweater was clean, but much, much smaller after the wash. In my defense, I had never heard of felting and it was only the second sweater I had ever knit. Some of my granddaughters could possibly wear it, but it is VERY dense and VERY warm.  They live in Texas....

I can make a pillow from it and someone suggested using the arms as wine cozies (NO! NO! NO!) but I haven't worked up the courage to cut it up.  

So I am happy that I don't have to knit another one and I'm sure my daughter prefers the authentic Irish-knit sweater that she has bought.  I know I do.

Because I'm a Genius

I made identical twin socks:

using Jan Stephens' basic sock pattern, size 2 needles, and String Theory Colorworks Self- Striping yarn, colorway Time.


(And to those knitters who know that genius has nothing to do with knitting identical twin socks: Just hush.)