Archive for July, 2007

High Voltage

Several weeks back Misterpant’s Grandfather took the time to show and explain to him how to work a record player. Some times I have a hard time grasping the fact that he will never know a life with high speed internet, high-def television, or (for now, at least) war. He has point-blank asked where the monitor was for a typewriter. So the fact that can knowingly work a record player, and balance a penny on the head of it if needed, makes me giggle. The fact he was using one to listen to AC/DC is just par for the course.

You see, there are only two reactions I get when telling somone that my son listens to AC/DC. The first is pure shock, the kind that reads, WhatKindOfParentAreYou! The other is amusement; in either that I am allowed to parent a child to begin with or that he even knows who AC/DC is. I’ve often had to remind people that he was the child that would fall asleep to the soft sounds of Led Zepplin’s Immigrant Song as a newborn.

In many ways I have had to suspend my own disbelief at his musical tasted. Much of what he likes is older than his parents. The local classic rock station is a favourite. He has no idea who Raffi is but will frequently request to listen to the Rent Soundtrack. He knows the words to most Willie Nelson songs. And now he can just as easily flip an album as he can zip through an iTunes music library in search of something to listen to.

Hammer Time

When I am Queen, all wet felting classes will require the use of a hammer.

This proclamation has been brought to you by Heidi Parra, my lovely scarf, and my arm muscles.

The Meaning of Life

After this weekend, I have decided that I want to be just like Heidi Parra when I grow up.

iKid

Considering he is walking around, using my iPod Nano like it is an iPhone, it may be a good idea to make something similar to this for Misterpants.

I No Knit Today (Or Yesterday)

Poor Debbie Bliss

Being Insomnia’s Bitch

There isn’t much that is worse than sitting up at 1am, watching the kitten jump around like a monkey on crack, wondering exactly why there isn’t a Law & Order television station, pondering exactly what it will take to get the text out of the bloody header, and thinking to yourself, “Gee, is it really too late to go the drug store for Nyquil, just so I can get some goddamn sleep?”