An Open Letter to the UK After being Awake for 24 hours

Dear United Kingdom,

Can I call you Britain? Maybe you’d prefer England? You say that’s for close friends only? I see. Well I can be that way as well.

It must be said up front that you ought to be a whole nicer to red eye travellers when they touch down in your ancient nation. Heathrow is a bit of a nightmare and frankly, if y’all are going to be welcoming the world in 2012 might I suggest making it easier to get out of the airport? I can admit that plane food, gin and very little sleep do not make for a top o’ the morning (I know, I know… Irish) kinda experience but still. Might you also tell your commuters the following: Hooray for publuic transit patronage but if you’re going to be running everywhere and acting all late and huffy why not leave a smidge earlier?

Author’s note: The second half of this letter was composed after a lengthy nap and filling up on pints and Morris dancing…

Oh, England! How I love thee! Let me count the ways:

1. You’re not garish and huge and from my view from Brighton and Hayward’s Heath you don’t appear to be in love with Big Boxes. I love that your citizens drive little cars and that every sink in which I have washed my hands has been a quaint, space saving gem. It’s the little things, of this I am aware…

2. You love sandwiches and pasties and pie and stopping in the day to have a cuppa (or a pint of real cider) and maybe a little slice of something.

3. Morris dancing! I have videos that will speak volumes but for now let us just say, “Oy”!

4. DM is happy and full of crisps (potato chips, you wankers!) that taste like Canadian ham. Honest. I don’t care for ham but I sure do loves me some ham flavoured chips.

5. People say “jolly good”, in all seriousness. I think. I have a theory they might put it on for the tourist pig dogs but as when I was in Australia, I am constantly amused by what comes out of the mouths of Britons.

Who are the Britons? Why we all are! And I am your King.

So UK, after a rough start, we’re friends again. North Americans sure are fickle.

Love,

Kim

Some Knitterly Things

The first is that I finally signed up to Ravelry and I am totally hooked. I need more time to enter all my projects and catalogue all my yarn. What a brilliant site! I’ve also found other Niagara knitters and cannot wait to head out to a local Knit Night. For so long, especially when Serendipity closed, I felt like I was wandering alone in a wilderness of acrylic but now I know that there are knitters within my reach.

Secondly, I finally got out to Stitch in Grimsby. It is far more lovely than I expected and perfect for poking around in. They have a weekly Knit Night on Fridays – where once I lacked in knitting companions, it now seems as though there are not enough nights in the week available for the pursuit of all things yarny! I may have picked up some things but they may be for a surprise that I’m unwilling to give away at this point. DM, don’t sweat it, I didn’t sneak any yarn into the house (this time).

And another thing? I heart Noro sock yarn.

Taking One for the Team

It’s very difficult only eating what is in your cupboard/fridge when you have cookies and cream ice cream bars.

Rough.

Something that is NOT bollocks

Slice of bread into hard-as-rock brown sugar actually works.

Just when you thought a post couldn’t get any shorter…

Sweet Mother of Jebuth!

Day 30! Shwing!

And to celebrate, this is my post.

I’m going to buy a winter coat and see a movie.

Also, on the agenda for the weekend:

Visit sister

One of a Kind Craft Show

Lettuce Knit

Lush

Oh, yeah, and NOT blog.

Take that, suckahs!

Squeezing Blood From a Stone

Second-to-last day of NaBloPoMo, but who’s counting?

Today I played soccer-baseball. Awesome.

And for a brief shining moment, I thought I had found a link claiming that soccer-baseball had captured the hearts of thousands of young Saudi Arabians, but I was wrong. Instead, please enjoy some child eye-candy. I give you the spawn of my brother…

               

Woot! Woot!

My faith in the portion of the American public who spends money voting for reality television programming has been renewed.

Do-gooding

Tonight Wellspring Niagara is having their annual Starry Night Gala. DM sits on the board and does a great deal of work for the gala in particular, so we’re heading down there tonight to be a part of the big shin-dig. There will be food and wine and silent and live auctions, as well as musical performances by Carol Welsman and guitarist Pavlo.

This year, I’m helping out and while opening CDs to be autographed doesn’t phase me, the idea of being a spotter in the live auction makes me nervous. What happens if I say someone bid and they didn’t? What happens if someone wants to drop a load of cash and I didn’t see them give the nod. Uh, that guy may have bid, or he may have scratched his nose. You, sir? Adjusting your toupe, and not bidding $5000 on a case of wine? Right. My bad. Am I responsible for any bad spotting that I might commit?

That’s it, folks. We have $8 million, do I hear nine? Going, going. SOLD, to the crappy spotter in last year’s dress.

Mmmmm… beer…

One of the things that DM brought into our relationship, besides fear, surprise, and an almost fanatical devotion to the Pope, was a love of beer. No, he’s not in his Carlsberg years, nor is a student of the Bud Light Institute. No. DM tends to lean towards beer that tastes less like wet newspaper and stale white rice and more like actual hops and malts.

Having come from a family where Blue Light and OV are the kings of beers, this whole good-beer-is-not-Moosehead-or-Stella was a bit new to me. Very early on in our relationship I was challenged with all kinds of beers that I never new existed, let alone thought I could come to love.

Enter my gateway beer- the one beer that allowed me to step away from Labatt 50 and enter into an entire world of better. My gateway beer was Bieropholie’s Imperial Stout which the breweries website describes thusly:

Une Stout Impériale ou un Stout Impérial, il semble que les deux se disent.Une bière noire comme le poêle aux arômes de chocolat noir, aux saveurs de chocolat noir mi-amer. Pour les passionnés des papilles. À boire accompagné de fraises fraîches et un être à aimer.

For those of you who do not speak French, all this jibber-jabber informs you that this beer tastes like the love child of chocolate and coffee after spending a night sitting by the campfire. Delicious. Somewhere in the bowels of our home, I am happy to report we have at least a half a dozen bottles.

This past weekend, we spent 48 hours in the United States of America, which meant that we could legally import, duty-free 24 bottles of beer each. The first stop for us was the beer store and boy, did we have some fun. I have come to love the darkies. The stouts and the porters, that is. I also go weak in the knees for a barleywine. But I have been known to try anything once, even if DM, or my brother-in-law-ish, RW, tell me it’s garbage.

I think it’s time that this blog showed a little love to the incredible beers that I have drank, am drinking and will drink in the days and months to come. Check the sidebar for my thoughts on the beers I am drinking these days. Cheers.

10 Things I Have Done in the Past 72 Hours

1. Had my picture taken with a stuffed bison.

2. Enabled the purchase of $210 worth of beer. How many bottles?  Only 54. I’m a beer snob now, no 24 for $24 for me.

3. Bought some killer shoes and leather knee-high boots. No tax.

4. Purchased children’s skirts for 99 cents! And no tax!

5. Knit on a sock.

6. Had sausage gravy… twice!

7. Watched in the sideview mirror as an out of control truck smucked into a vehicle containing 4 members of my immediate family.

8. Called 911 on the side of the I-90, happy to report zero injuries.

9 . Ate Vietnamese food.

10. Painted a hallway in our house magenta!