Sanna's Bag

“I never seem to have what I need when I need it. I’m going to make a belt-bag that’s bigger on the inside than on the outside, and just carry everything with me.”

Saturday, June 17, 2006

May I have a word?

Lucia ( My blogging mentor, gave me a meme. My 1947 Webster's doesn't define meme, though all the other words with the same beginning have to do with memory. To be specific, in the parlance of the web, I have been tagged with a meme to describe her in one word, then to ask four of my friends to describe me in one word. But only if I feel like it. Since Lucia is the only person who has ever commented on my blog, I feel like doing it thisaway. May I have that word, Lucia? and if anyone else is out there, a word (or two )would be like, wayyy affirming.

Have you ever wondered about the late-night radio hosts, who are all alone in their studios, talking to the darkness? Throwing words into a well and never, never hearing a splash or even an echo. I so enjoy the sound of my own voice, that It would be kind of a bonus to get paid for talking, but I would need human cocntact before or after. Not the job for me in any case. I have solar batterries. The sun goes down, I tip right over. I'm up at 5 most mornings and sunrise is my favorite part of the day. The team at the publishers, two time zones away, are pleased that I'm up and on line by the time they show up for work. Makes me easier to deal with.

I am finishing the sleeves of the loud sweater in hot pink ribbing. They will be elbow-length and open, and the ribbing won't draw in a lot, just enough to keep the suckers from rolling. The cats have been pouty about the loud sweater, since it takes up a lot of lap space and needs to be shifted often. the white sweater laid quietly on my lap and made a lovely nappy blanket for happy kitties. They sit beside me on the sofa, glaring at the loud sweater and scolding me telepathically, "Bad slave! Bad slave! Put that down and pet me!"

Yesterday I wore my self-knit yellow cotton socks for the first time. It was such a treat, on a grey day, to hike my pants leg and get that flash of yellow!! I know they are machine washable and dryable. The lable promised me that they were, but still, I took them into the bathtub with me. Now they smell like rosemary and clary sage bodywash. Is it peculiar to sniff your socks?


  • At 12:21 PM , Blogger Lucia said...

    Your comment about too many possibilities back atcha, my friend. After some thought, I was inspired to invent a word for the occasion, and here it is:


    meaning outside the box.

    ("Box?" says Roxie. "What box?")


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