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You say you want a revolution well, you know... ...we all want to change the world |
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Sponsor my private revolution:
What am I selling on Ebay today? Let the Revolution begin... *You can be any age to join the knitting revolution. It's not just grannies any more. *To join, just grab the nearest pointy things, and tie them to the nearest string-like substance. Wave them enthusiastically in the air, yelling passionate cries such as "och aye the noo!" *The revolution requires that you supply your own weapons. Er, needles. *Knitting can be sexy. Sure, it can. Go to knitty and be inspired! *Knit in public, and if anyone looks at you funny, you've always got a sharp metal thing handy with which to poke their soft bits. *Get all knitting-zen on people. Then when you really let your hair down, you can get away with it, because you're "that nice person, who knits". *insert evil laugh here* *Oh, yeah, almost forgot. The revolution will not be televised. Or... something like that. I moved to Canberra last November, and am now involved in the best Canberra knitting group! ... so any locals or visitors interested, go on over to Canberra Stich N Bitch yahoo group and join us in our dark endeavours! I mean, creative meeting of minds... er, yeah. Something like that. We meet at Starbucks in Civic on the first Thursday evening of every month, and the third Sunday of the month at 2pm. Come along! If you feel shy, feel free to post online first, or email someone to ask a few questions. :):):) If you want, use the contact button and I'll give you my details so we can get in touch. Always happy to get the interesting people of Canberra out of the woodwork... I know you're there, ya just hard to find sometimes *chuckle* Sydney Knitting Adventures continue at "my" previous knitting group in Newtown: Meet up for coffee, cake, and knitting adventures galore at Barmuda Cafe, Australia Street Newtown. It's opposite the police station, and across the intersection from Newtown Train Station. See the SSK Website for details :D You, and this many other people with a cramp in their forefinger: Interesting in knitting, and what other knitters are doing? Or are you just bored, or farting off at work while the boss ain't watching? Well then, I have just the thing to keep you busy for hours on end... go exploring the wonderful world of knitting blogs. Can you believe there's so many of us? I have my favourite blog-days, and these are some of them: A hairy tale Horn-y knitter Musical tongs God on the brain Blogging from behind a mask Creativity and productivity I am SUCH a nerd Deliver me from Swedish furniture Feminist backlash Modern beauty is a myth Instant karma’s gonna getcha Go feminism Harris the Well Clad Fish The love is in the food Embarrassment, Humiliation and Joy Booty The birth of a grammar avenger Beetles Traffic Lights, part 1 Spawn of Satan Traffic Lights, part 2 A long time ago, in a knitting bag far, far away... And my other blog, complete with a few little patterns: http://miscsqueak.blogdrive.com  
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Musical tongs It was Saturday night, and disaster was looming, sniggering evilly, stalking me through the darkness. I approached the bank of letterboxes with my very important envelope of music (yep, for this weekend's concert) and slipped it into the one which had "1" written on it. I then stepped back and realised that I'd put it into the next door neighbour's box. Aaaargh! Ben was going to kill me. He was going to KILL me! He'd come to my apartment earlier in the day, his face waxy with illness and fatigue, and asked me to pass on several copies of this music to various people. Yeah, no problem, I say. You can count on me. *laughs hysterically* This morning, after I'd spoken to the musician, whose neighbours hadn't been home all weekend, I realised that I was going to have to Do Something Drastic. The letterbox was locked. There was a small slit at the top where the letters went in, way to small for even my tiny hands. A stick? No, wouldn't be able to get the envelope back up. Ah. I know. I packed a pair of long-handled tongs into my backpack, and hopped on my motorbike. I did a slow cruise-by. There were a couple of neighbours hanging around on the corner waiting for a bus, who watched me ride by. Hm. I might get the cops called on to me for pinching people's mail if I'm not careful. I nonchalantly parked the bike, pulled off my helmet, and reached into my bag for the tongs. My heart contracted with fear. Could I really get away with this? I had visions of a siren screaming around the corner and getting dragged away to the police station, desperately clutching my kitchen tongs and wailing that I'd be late for my 1pm lecture. Argh! I let go of the tongs, and figured it wouldn't hurt to procrastinate for a minute. The loitering neighbours eyed me suspiciously. I tossed my hair carelessly, and wandered hopefully down the driveway to where the letter-box owner undoubtedly lived. There was no number on the door of the buildings, and I hoped desperately that this was unit one. I could hear voices inside, and boldly rang the doorbell. They made me wait a long minute or two, quivering with anticipation. Yes, they were unit one. No, they hadn't checked their letterbox since Saturday. Yes, they'd be happy to open it for me. Yes, they had been about to leave, and I'd just caught them. The woman holding the baby gave me a very strange, almost disbelieving look as I told her my story, and asked her husband to do the honours. Yay for good luck! Finally!!! Yup, there it was, sitting in the letterbox. I snatched it joyfully from the faintly surprised man, and took off like a mad thing ("yes, I do ride that bike, actually. Haha," I said, as I ran away brandishing the envelope of music). I smiled cheerfully at the neighbours still waiting for their bus as I pulled away, and the young couple whose letterbox I'd considered attacking with a pair of kitchen tongs waved at me as I disappeared into the wild blue yonder. Now, I'm off to that 1 o'clock lecture. Posted at 12:38 pm by monnsqueak
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