The post is coming! The post is coming!

Yeesh. I promise I haven't been ignoring the blog. Things have just been...well....ok, I'm a lazy ass. But we have established this. You people are aware of it. Don't say I didn't warn you.

When I started the blog, I thought to myself "Don't be an ignorant prat. Nobody is going to read it, your humor is too damn sarcastic, and you're a lazy ass. People aren't going to read the sarcasm in your humor and you will offend every last damn stalkee you have. Not to mention the fact that your life is not interesting." Well, I sure showed me! Granted, I am still lazy and I will always be sarcastic, but life is full of interesting little day-to-day happenings. Does anybody really care about those? Well, no. Not really. Thanks for playing, next contestant please.

I guess I have just been struggling with who I am as a blogger. Does that even make sense? "No, Stalker Angie, it doesn't, but we will smile and nod like we do for all the crazy people." Thanks, guys! I guess what I mean is, I do not write as eloquently as the Yarn Harlot, Steph, nor do I have the Oh-sweet-deity-on-a-pogo-stick-you-are-too-cute sayings that Ms. Ryan has, like "snarky." I love that. And I am one of those people who soak up personalities like a sponge so I've been trying to make myself come across as me and not as one of my stalkees because I don't want to be like Jennifer Jason Leigh in Single White Female. Creeeeeeeeeepy.

So here's the deal. Read the whole thingy at the top. That part about being offended? Yeah. Listen to it. You have choices. You can take me with a grain of salt like everyone who knows and loves me because I am freakin hilarious (or so they think), you can just ignore me and go to another blog, you can write me a comment about how offended you are and how I should take other peoples feelings into consideration, or you can piss off. I tell everyone at some point or another to piss off. My little brother and sister hear it all the time. My husband hears it daily. It just means I love you.

So there will be more of my "did she just say that??" humor in the future, and I swear to Jeebus that I will have pics posted soon. I am almost done with Sophie and I got my handles from Kim at Gibson Girl and some beautimus stitch markers with them (Yarn jewelry, yay!!), and I got me some Denise interchangables to play with, I still haven't posted any Dulaan project pics.....if my life is so damn uninteresting, why do I have so much to post about?? Sheesh.

Hope everyone has a great day!!

If you build it, they will come.

*Que fairy tale music*

Once upon a time, in a far away land lived a Stalker. The Stalker was sad because there was a terrible curse upon her kingdom. For you see, the Stalker had a desire, nay, a need. This needs name was Yarn. But not just any yarn. Stalker yearned for wool and alpaca, cashmere and silk, and yes, dared to dream even of the ever elusive Merino Wool.

*Que evil creepy music*

Stalker lived in a land of searing heat and breath stealing humidity. Once, her land was a thing of beauty and cool breezes, but generations before her a curse was placed upon all of the animals in her land. No matter the animal, no matter the skill of the spinner, no matter how fervent the prayers of all of her knitting and crocheting subjects, all that could be rendered for yarn was *Crescendo on evil creepy music* acrylic.

Then one day, there was a whisper on the wind. *Que soft, heart-wrenching music* A newcomer in the land had brought things of wonderment. Stalker now had a Local Yarn Store. Contained within this small space was a bounty in her eyes. Things of beauty and softness to make the most hard-hearted crocheter weep. And Stalker did purchase.

This is what the purchases came home in.


So innocent looking.

Behold!! And click on pictures to enlarge. Hehe


Colors...so pretty...

This, my lovely stalked friends, Is Calypso from South West Trading Company. And it's lovely. And it will tell me in due time what it wants to be. All I know is that it had to come home with me. As I knelt down at one point to survey another yarn, it leapt onto my head and tumbled into my arms. I was love at first site. So come home it did. I just love touching it. Petting it. It's mine. Mine!! *ahem* Sorry about that.

Something strange happened on the way home. You see, I actually bought three different yarns. Two of them were purchased to be used together because they just seemd so right side by side. Little did I know how right I was about that. Be forewarned, my stalkees. The picture below is a little disturbing. Yarn porn to be exact. I felt dirty for even taking the picture, but they insisted that their love fore one another be spread to the masses.


And wuv.....twue wuv...

They had shucked off the constraints of their wrappers and were entwined in each others arms. I am hoping their love will manifest itself into a hybrid. I could start a breeding program. I would never sell the children of their love, though. I would nurture them into mature skeins and adopt them out in mated pairs to loving homes. On the left is Melody in Arizona Sunset, on the right, Bamboo Soysilk in Tequila. Their offspring will be Tequila Sunsets. A party waiting to happen in your hands.

On the crocheting...erm....knitting front (Dammit, Jim, I'm a doctor not a knitter), We have the base and three rows up done on Sophie. Proof!


Beauty, eh?

And I got an email from Kim at Gibson Girl stating she was waiting on more wire. Not that there's any rush. I knit pretty slow. But then I crochet pretty slow. But I keep a very consistent gauge. So there.

Hope everyone has a great day!!

A Special Man

There's a special man in my life who I used to think was the tallest man in the world. He is kind, loving, funny, strong and giving to a fault. He plays guitar and sings like a dream to me. And even today if you mess with his kids, you'll have him to deal with. His name is Tex William Jewell.

He fought in WWII in Germany and France. He landed on Omaha Beach and was one of only three men from his entire battalion that survived that landing. He tells stories of not even being able to shoot because of having to use his rifle to move bodies out of his way in the surf. The other two surviving members of his battalion died 2 days later in another battle. Because of this, he was assumed dead and got lost in the paperwork. No other battalion would take him without the proper documents. He couldn't even get shipped home.

He Joined the French Underground and fought with them for 2 years. He had three different write-ups in the military paper, Stars and Stripes. When they finally got all of his paperwork in order, he was shipped home and received numerous medals, including a Purple Heart with two Oak Leaf Clusters. When he arrived home, he was given a choice of joining a new battalion and shipping out the next day or being honorably discharged from the Army and sent home. He inquired about the destination of the battalion and was told they were selling for Iwo Jima. His response? "You get me out of this man's Army. I'm done."

He was married in December of 1946 and had his first child in September of 1947. A Daughter. He and his wife had 3 more children, all boys. He was a truck driver and a country/western singer for most of his working days. His dream was Nashville and one of his biggest thrills was getting to play guitar on a record with Ernest Tubb. When my mother was pregnant with me, the doctors pinpointed my birthdate as April 11th, his birthday. I was born exactly one week later. I haven't been on time to anything since.

When I was born, there was a fight over what my name would be. My mother wanted Angela Marie (she won), my father wanted Lisa Marie (like Elvis much, daddy?), My grandmother wanted April Marie. He wanted Angela Maria Juanita Consuela Garcia. I don't have a drop of Hispanic or Latino blood in me. To this day he still calls me Angela Maria Garcia. I still giggle like a 5-year-old when I hear it. Every man I ever dated or was ever interested in was measured against this man. He was married to his wife for 57 years before she passed away last year in February. It's the only time I've ever seen him cry. We don't even know how old he is because he lied about his age to join the military and go to war. If you ask him how old he is, his answer is always "Old enough not to have to tell you."

So in honor of this man's life and all he has done so far, join me in raising a glass (or a coffee mug) for his birthday.

Happy Birthday, Grandpa!!!

All my love,

Angela Maria Garcia

The Stalker's New Hideout

I have been corrupted. Yes, it's true. I haven't picked up a crochet hook in months to do any actual crochet. I know....I know. I am a strong advocate of crochet. I still love it. But, I've been knitting. It's this whole Dulaan thing. I wanted to try out Steph's "Ken" hat, then it was Norma's *ahem* "pinwheel" hat and then Janine had to make Norma's hat less of a butthole so I had to make one of those too. Do you see a pattern here? I mean, what's next? Knitting socks? Lace shawls? Cardigans?? Well, I'll tell you what's next, my little stalked friends. It's a Sophie bag. This came in the mail for me.


There's wool in my house!

It's Cascade 220 (well of course it is you silly twit, they can read the lables) in a lovely lavender, a heather green and an amethyst. The picture, of course, does not do it justice, but the table looks nice! I've already ordered the bead handles and now I'm just trying to find the right size circular. I've checked everywhere in the neighboring 5 counties. It's nowhere to be found. Nowhere. Mom, Of the adopted family, even checked at her local crafty type store and no such luck.

But what's this I hear? What do you mean there's a Yarn Store that just opened up in town. You have got to be shitting me. This is Texas. We don't have Yarn Stores. We have Walmarts and Hobby Lobbys chock full of acrylic. But it's true, my little stalked friends! The nice lady at Mom's local crafty store gave her the number to give to me. And lo and behold but I did call this number and yea verily did they have yarn. Wool yarns, silk yarns, Berroco yarns, North West Trading Company yarns, Patons......I just wanted to sit in the middle of the floor and cry and laugh at the same time. It's a teeny tiny place. But I don't care. It could be a closet with a cashier and it would be more than what I had!

And so your friendly internet Stalker did travel after work and finger the yarns. And it was good. And there was a purchase made. Pictures shall be coming forthwith, we swears. Hmm? Circular what? Oh! The needles. The whole reason I went. Well, she didn't have them in stock but she is ordering them for me. The owner is SUCH a nice lady. She walked me around and talked to me about every yarn there and let me play with swatches she had made. It was a bit overwhelming to be surrounded by so much yarn and so little acrylic.

And so I will have the circulars I need and I will be making new hiding places for stash. The best part? My purchase got sent home in a plain brown paper gift bag. No identifying marks. It will become my new lunch bag. I shall carry my lunch inside a plastic bag inside this bag. Then, on the way home, I can purchase yarn and he will think it is just my lunch dishes when I get home. Big T need never know. This is all Ms. Ryan's fault. :o)

Oh and go check out the happenings at Ye olde Mossy Cottage and join in Ms. Ryan's celebration. You'll be glad you did.

Hope everyone has a great day!!