Sorry for the lapse in blogging. I was in Chicago last Thursday, Friday and weekend. This week sucked at work and I've been sewing like a madwoman.
Upon reading this, I ask why did I write such boring stuff? I mean, really! Why did I think that future generations would need to know what the temperature was? Or how my grandmother taught me to knit by fear?
March 8, 1987
Today I rode down to Grandmom's and started knitting a country blue Shaker sweater. It is fun, except I have to go slow unless I make a mistake. Then it's off with my head!!
Anyway, today was up to about 75 degrees! I wore shorts! It's supposed to rain tomorrow. Barf gag, gross, nowayhosea, absolutely not young man!
Tired as shit!
I'm gonna put a different name for my diary each night. Love and other indoor sports!
Like I said, dullsville! I drew a picture of me in a sweater with a mistake and a line across my neck. The phrase "love and other indoor sports" is from a teen novel, not my own ingenuity.
And shorts? Knowing me, they were probably Jams I made myself. I wish I had a picture of them to post. I am SO glad capris came into style. I can ease my way into blinding the world with my legs. Have you ever seen how naturally Marilyn Manson-like pale I am? I'm actually darker now than I was then at least on my face. I suppose that's from years of working at the snack bar at the Village 2 pool, and from walking the dog so much. Oh, and going to the Grand Canyon last summer and burning the shit out of my lips.