An evil little yarn from artfibers.com:

Sanskrit.

I'd just like to note that I do not need this yarn. That fact does not, however, prevent me from lusting after it.

I quote:

Sure, you've been enthralled by my Tales of the Gym, but those of you who really just come around for the kitty pr0n have been feeling sorely ignored as of late. Luckily, I've had a few ... uh, gems (?) ... stashed on my camera's memory stick, and finally got around to downloading them after today's Marathon Gym Session.

After a bit of a hiatus, one of our semi-completed household projects has been brought to full completion. Last weekend, I asked Jeff to cut the remaining pieces of wood so that we could finish up our new CD rack, since our current plethora of CDs outgrew our old storage facility at least six months ago.Once he'd attached a back and a stabilizing base, all it needed was a coat of paint and we were good to go. I applied the paint yesterday afternoon and brought in the finished rack after dark. I set it up in the reading room and thought, "Oh dear.

Somewhere between the second episode of The Muppet Show and my fourth orange-flavored drink, courtesy of Brian, I began to realize that this Thanksgiving holiday thing might have some merit, after all. Given another couple of episodes and another fizzy drink or two, I might even start singing the praises of this holiday.

Scratch that. Thanksgiving == good. A pity Thomas and Danielle fled before the evening got really amusing.

Funny how sometimes the things you dread and put off don't even bother to live up to how difficult you thought they'd be.

Databases were like that for me, once; I woke up one day and said, "It's time," and cracked open my books and studied up and about two days later, I realized at least three-quarters of my fear and doubt went away the moment I transmuted worry into action.

"Cable knitting? But I don't know how to do cable knitting..."

Part two of two. Yang: light.

...and yet, it isn't all sadness; there are hours and days in which the sadness doesn't come, and making a last-minute run to the store to buy crayons leaves you laughing, marveling at how the streams of light from the snarled traffic on the other side of the road remind you of nothing but a long string of Christmas lights.

Life's like that.Or, as gleefully said to Heather earlier today: