There's a reward at the end of this post. Probably.

I have an hour to kill before I can go pick up Jada from her surprise emergency trip to the vet that's scaring the ever loving fuck out of me, so I decided that this was a good time to write a blog post about...

I have no idea.

I could write about death, since that seems to be a pervasive theme of my 2014, but I don't really dig on morbidity unless you count my phase of loving black toenail polish and listening to Depeche Mode.

Which I don't.

I do, for the record, still love black toenail polish and am waiting extremely impatiently for my two lost toenails to regrow so that I can make all 10 toes look as busted as the few that remain.

My feet are still fucked from JMT, y'all, is what I'm trying to say.

I have two missing toenails, two blackish purplish soon-to-be-gone toenails, one warped toenail and five semi acceptable toenails that would look a lot more acceptable with a coat of shiny black polish.

As Bubba would say, "Oh my goth."

He's hilarious.

I could also write about work, because it's SO awesome at work and I love it SO much and it stresses me out SO much that I need an outlet for it, but I've never been a write-about-work blogger, so it's hard for me to do that now.

You tell me - would that even interest you? To hear about working in a greenhouse on a farm? Keep in mind that it is a farm mostly composed of greenhouses and herb crops and we don't have, say, a bunch of cute fuzzy animals and farm chic shit everywhere and my office is on a loading dock rather than, like, in a distressed red painted barn and I grow crops in a hydroponic system rather than in the dirt like I've been told "real" farmers do.

Just keep all that in mind and then make your decision: work talk or no?

I could write about why Jada's at the vet and how it was so super sudden and extra scary and how my heart has been breaking all day and I'm so fucking worried and Bubba's traveling for work and the two of us have been over-worrying all day long via Chat, but that'd be boring for you guys.

Or sad. And I don't like to write about shit that's boring and sad.

What about the holidays? KIDDING. Just saying that word made me throw up and curse Macy's and Costco.

And if you haven't seen what's happening at Macy's and Costco right now, then you and I could be friends. At least on Facebook. Because my friends have been posting pictures of what the inside of these two stores look like and it's scarier than when I first started watching Walking Dead.

I get scared during Walking Dead, OK, so shuttup.

TV! We could talk about TV! I mean, the series that are on TV and then go to Netflix or Amazon Prime or some other streaming service because we don't have regular TV anymore. Which I love.

I don't know why I held on to DirecTV or cable for so long. It's all a bunch of nonsense and lame content or good content saturated with stupid ads to the point that we can't even watch TV in hotels anymore.

We're spoiled by no commercials and on demand content of our choice.

So what if I watch Bob's Burgers every single day? And I binge watch series after series without going into the kitchen for a snack during the commercial breaks?

Oh wait - those are two awesome things. Yeah - fuck you, regular TV.

OK, so we talked about TV a little.

How about the garden? I mean, it's been so hot here and so dry that the summer garden has been long since pulled out and the winter garden planting is on hold until it's not seedling-melting temperatures anymore, but we could talk about the garden.

That's all I have to say about the garden: It's been hot. The garden can not be replanted until it's not so hot. HOT.

Have you heard that we're having an End of Days level drought out here in California and everyone's calling it the next Dust Bowl even though that kind of doesn't make sense but then if you think about it long enough it kind of does make sense? Yeah. It's hot and dry here and it's been that way for about three years and now shit's getting real.

Like, I've been driving over the same reservoir for the last three years on my way to Santa Cruz every day and that thing is vanishing before my very fucking eyes.

Soon the bridge over the reservoir is going to be pointless and kids being born around now are going to be saying, "Mommy, why is there a bridge here if it just goes over nothing?" And mommy will say, "Shut the hell up back there and try not to sweat because you can't take a bath for three more weeks."

It's dire.

But that topic, too, is sad and boring, so let's skip it.

NANOWRIMO! Let's talk about that.

I was going to do it this year. I even started an outline in Scrivener and started researching shit and behaving like someone who has done this shit before and then...reality.

I have no time for NaNoWriMo this year. I mean, if I wanted to ignore Bubba and Jada, not bathe, fall asleep and drown in my hydroponic system at work and/or alienate myself from all of society in the name of writing something about which I'm only remotely excited still, then yes, I'd have time.

But my response to all that which I just said is, No thank you.

Instead, I've agreed to be a NaNoWriMo mentor for my sister, who's doing it for the first time this year. I feel like that is a good midway point for me so that I don't feel like a complete abandoner of shit I love and also like a decent sister.

Two wins is better than one big bummer, I say.

And now it's time to go pick up Jada from the vet, so thank you for humoring this very long-winded time killer of a blog post and for your reward, I will write about whatever you want next time.

Seriously.

Throw a topic out there and I'll spin some bullshit for you.

Come on. You know you want it. Bullshit that is. Custom written bullshit.

Go.

I'll stop after this. Promise.

At the risk of alienating all of you with never-ending school banter, I will say that this is the last post on school because BAM, it's over.

I've been graduated.

Meanwhile, did you know that's the grammatically correct way to say it? Learned that during my undergrad, yes I did.

From a psychopathic professor who would put my hand to his scratchy bearded mouth and yell into it.

My undergrad was weird.

This time around though! Also weird, I'm afraid.

But less mouth-to-hand screaming, so that was a relief.

Could have done without all of the rank hippies eating themselves free of the cover crop rows, lunatics running rampant in the greenhouse breaking plants, blind high stoners wandering aimlessly through lab messing shit up and the general teenagery Santa Cruz-ness of it all, too, but I guess that's part of the fun?

Sure, fun. Let's call it that.

LIKE FUN!

Heh. I love it when people said that back in the day when nobody used swears. "You're 23? Like fun you are!"

Anyway, random.

And, hey! I have time for random again! I mean, sort of.

Like yesterday when I searched up my final grades and found that I did, in fact, get all As and then took that as a cue to conduct a little activity demanded by my dear friend, Shelley.

See, she's been on my case for oh 2 years or so to put my As up on the fridge and take a picture.

And then a hundred other people said that to me over the last two years as I bashed them about the head and ears with my test and course scores because I'm terribly self-congratulatory.

I'm also overly-familiar, rudely blunt, foul-mouthed, unforgiving of poor grammar and spelling and not that good at mowing the lawn.

And now that we have some of my most heinous flaws out there for you all to ogle, check this shit out:

I call it my Shrine of Self Congratulation.  Also Where the Tonic Lives.

That's right. I kept all of my school paperwork and tests organized for just such an occasion and also because I'm self-indulgent and sentimental.

It's making me nuts that the folders are out of chronological order.

Now, contrary to my previous declaration, I didn't actually get all As on all things. I mean, yes, I did get all As on my final transcript, but there were a few exams here and there where I didn't get As. Thankfully, some of the professors are tech-fearful and don't use the online learning system so I couldn't see all of my final exam scores, but one of them is less fearful than others and I know that I got a C on a final last semester.

A C! I know. Horrid. Still though, I got an A in the class, so let's pretend I never told you. I need to remain pure in your minds.

Instead, look at this and swoon. That's what I did and, because I'm also terribly self-involved, I assume that's what everyone will do.

Perhaps it's my self-involvement that fetched me the 4.0 transcript that I've always wanted. Or maybe it was the fact that this was horticulture and not, say, organic chemistry.

Or maybe it was the socks.

Definitely the socks.

And since these guys served me so well for the last two years in school, I thought they might have enough juice left to get me through another interview yesterday.

For a job I REALLY want.

A job that's REALLY cool.

And REALLY scary. So scary and cool that I will probably need to wear these socks every day for the first six months of the job if I were so lucky as to get it.

I need to learn how to darn socks.

It would appear that my lucky socks are running out of lucky. Or lucky is running out of the toes? Or? Whatever, they have holes.

Either way though - now you're safe. No more school talk on the blog.

We'll just go back to talking about Oh noooooooooo and the garden and dongs, ok?

I make no promises about it during NaNoWriMo though. Which I'm hoping to do again this year after a two year hiatus. And during which I *may* write up a short story compilation covering the crazy of my last two years.

But not on the blog! You are free from schoolishness talking and grades and shit like that.

Be free!

The new way we're doing shit around here

Just a picture of a cute dog about to eat a squirrel in the woods

So, i have all of these random things i keep wanting to tell you guys about but i get all, "Oh that can't be a post, it's just like one thing about lettuce." so then i keep it in my head until i have more things i can add to a post so that it's not just about lettuce or how this fucking keyboard's shift key is broken but i don't have time to fix it so I can't reliably capitalize things and keep my posts all nice and accurately capitalized and shit and oh here we are.

so instead of waiting until i have time to fix the keyboard or collecting any other items about which to post so that i can appear coherent in any way, i'm just forging ahead with what will likely be a very disjointed and most certainly ill-capitalized post about lettuce so that we can hang out again.

hey, friends! i grow lettuce now.

i mean, yes, i grow it at home in the garden because that's where we eat salad, of which lettuce is a main ingredient, but what i really mean is that i grow aquaponic lettuce (meaning it grows in water that's enriched with the power of fish poo) along with my other crops in the college greenhouse now and it's rad.

And because i've been so nerdy about introducing you to all of my other crops, i thought i'd at least keep some semblance of a theme, here.

Everyone, this is lettuce. Lettuce, this is everyone. and hey! the shift key worked, like, twice right there.

so, yeah - lettuce. i grow it all hydroponic-like in our greenhouse and then when there are a bunch of baby seedlings left over, i bring them home to my garden because i don't know when to just knock it the hell off.

one week's worth of leftover lettuce seedlings and then OH HEY here are some seeds that were donated to the program/my front yard meadow.

turns out that the hydro lettuce also likes soil growing because it's flexy that way.

Also from the world of I Miss you guys So i'm posting even though my Shift key doesn't work fOr shit - i'm not doing NaNoWriMo again this year.

i mean, i just don't see any way that it could happen. even if a hungry wormhole opened up and swallowed half of the projects i'm working on right now, i'd still be a bit frantic to be putting down 1,667 words a day.

So, boo. next year I hope to get back at it - writing stories about purple alien boyfriends with three dicks and such. which, yes, i did write about in year 1 and no i don't actually plan to revisit. it was sort of...how you say...absurd. perhaps i was drinking when i set out on day 1? i mean, maybe.

And while we're getting used to the new format of I Blast Randomness at you In the Name of Us All still hanging Out - here's some shit from the last month that i've wanted to post about but failed to find the brainpower/time/energy for. in bulleted list form because, hello, we've met...

• my neighbors started putting out Halloween stuff in September and then had their thanksgiving stuff out while there were still Halloween candy wrappers on the ground
• there are still Halloween candy wrappers on the ground in my neighborhood this morning when i walked the dog. CLEAN SHIT UP YOU ASSHOLE KIDS.
• i'm still getting As in my classes despite the mind-scrambling chemistry and math that has been foisted upon my brains
• I got suddenly and grossly ill a few weeks ago and had to cancel all my commitments in order to effectively curl up into a ball and try my best to die for two days which sucked
• The winter garden is totally in and i THINK that this year i'll actually have a good crop of onions for the first time ever so WOO (used the CAPS LOCK for that one)

And then i'm sure there are a million more random things that i could throw at you, but i'm really sick of looking at this poorly-capitalized post with all of its lowercase letters that should be uppercase, so i'm going to leave you with this.

this being the new format of finnyknits in which i blast random thoughts at you without any regard for the formatting of the post. so, you know, it's like most of the internet now.

Chat soon, my lovelies.

I'm playing Surface Tension with my life.

Alright. It's November 1 and my denial is no longer denial, it's just reality.

I'm not doing NaNoWriMo this year.

There. I said it. It's out on the internetting and there's nothing I can do about it. Officially I'm not writing 1,667 words a day for the month of November.

I'm not sweating words from my fingertips onto my poor MacBook's can't-quite-keep-up-with-my-typing-speed keyboard in the dark lonely hours of the night.

I'm not tethering myself inextricably to @NaNoWriMo's Twitter feed.

I'm not tearing out clumps of hair during breaks from @NaNoWordSprints.

I'm not probing the inner recesses of my ear canal with a tablespoon digging desperately for The Point To My Story.

I'm not crying.

I'm not accepting caffeine as my lord and savior.

I'm not doing premature spring wardrobe shopping, ordering holiday cards with overly elaborate designs, shaving cryptic messages into the cat's fur, custom blending toenail polish colors for the dog's pedicure, cooking my way through Cook's Illustrated's back catalog, taking up crossbow hunting, training for a marathon or rebuilding a 1967 VW Squareback's engine.

Well, to be clear, I'm not doing any of those things while procrastinating on my NaNoWriMo novel.

Though I may do them while procrastinating on the millions of other things that have clogged up my life to the point where I can't do NaNoWriMo because The End would be so visibly near if I were to heap that beast somehow on the tippy top of Mount HOLY SHIT HOW WILL I EVER GET ALL THIS STUFF DONE over here.

Yes, friends, I have successfully filled my life to the absolute brim.

I'm playing Surface Tension with my life.

The combination of going back to school, starting a business, winter gardening (winter garden blahblahblah coming soon), trying to get in some fall fishing, taking up fly tying (yep, hobby #1001 right there), taking up Crossfit (is that considered a hobby? I'm not counting it as one.), indulging in the Giants World Series victory  (this takes serious dedication, so do not roll your damn eyes at me) and project managing our forever-taking bathroom remodel has taken me to the very edge of the glass that is my life.

I'm afraid that if I were to add even a drop of NaNoWriMo to that glass, it would spill over onto the counter and I would lose it.

"It" being "My Sanity". And we know what a tenuous hold I have on that already.

So, I'm just not doing it.

It pains me and I hate not doing it because I love NaNoWriMo's sick torturous fun and I am on a three consecutive year roll of winning and I have two stories outlined in Scrivener (love you, Scrivy!) that I could totally blast 50,000 words at and everything, but no.

I musn't.

Instead, I am going to write on this blog.

And my business's blog.

And Examiner.

And Twitter. And Twitter.

And Facebook. And Facebook.

And write term papers.

And scholarship applications.

And midterms and finals that are supposed to be comprised of 20 short answer questions but really end up being 40-50 short to long answer questions because SOME professors like to make single questions into 10 sub-parts that each require their own short to long explanation so end up taking THREE MUTHER EFFING HOURS to complete.

All of that I'm going to do instead of NaNoWriMo.

I hope you understand.

Also, here's pictures from some of that shit I just said was doing all the Life Clogging.

Obviously we were dressed as Giants' Bat Girls for the Halloween Giants World Series Victory parade. OBVIOUSLY.

That's the Giants manager holding THE SECOND WORLD SERIES TROPHY THE GIANTS HAVE WON IN THREE YEARS.

You know that I will wear those wrist warmers even when I'm not being a Giants Bat Girl.

I tied this fly.

I fished this fly.

And despite the beauty and perfect conditions, I caught nothing.

Which is OK because I got to hang out with this sexy guy all day who bit my hat sometimes.

The winter garden is KICK ASS so far.

Ever wondered what juvenile buckwheat looks like? Wonder no more.

That guy is a cauliflower. He lives under that fabric. More to come on this.

I now have five fewer flies than this box was holding at the time of this photograph. THANKS JERK TROUT.

There's more than just cover crops in the garden this winter. BIG TIMES.

Ah, to have a fully functioning bathroom without paper covering the new flooring. That's the dream.

Oh right. And also to be able to shower in my own house.

998 questions and a bitch ain't one.

So...um...I guess I owe you guys some answers.

Because when I said you could ask me anything - you really didn't hold back.

Which, obviously because you guys are you guys.

Well done, you guys.

Let's get down to it then. So that we can get to the Super Special Secret Guest Post 999 and then the BIG HUGE THING NEWS on post 1,000. Also, there's a prize on that post. A Finny type prize. Which you can take to mean whatever you want. 

For those questions though...

Am I still knitting?
Um, sometimes. OK, no. More like, rarely. OK - truth, truth - annually. I have a sweater that I started two years ago and I've picked it up once each year since. I'm now an annual knitter. Don't tell the blog header.

How come you don't have air conditioning?
Because we live in a house that would be better described as a sieve. In our >1,000 square foot house we have 17 windows. Seriously. That's the actual number I came up with when I walked from tiny room to tiny room counting on my fingers and toes. 

I nearly ran out of fingers and toes!

In a house the size of my shoe!

Ridiculous.

Best parts are that one of those windows is in a closet and that NONE of them close securely. That means that we have sweaters with a view of our neighbor's driveway AND that air conditioning our house wouldn't so much be like air conditioning our house as it would be like air conditioning AROUND our house which is, No.

Um, how do you know when green tomatoes ripe?
Because they are soft when you squeeze them and smell like a ripe tomato. Also, they taste like a ripe tomato, so just pick one that feels/smells about right and taste it. If it's ripe - YAY. If it's not - BOO.

What ever happened to the Ugly Librarian Sweater?
It has been hanging in my closet ever since that post went live from shame. As soon as I admitted it was Ugly, I haven't been able to wear it. I'm very vain and self-involved, in case you'd somehow missed that.

If you missed that somehow, wake the fuck up. 

How come Bubba and I don't have any kids...
Because this.

How is that front yard meadow is working out...
Eh, it's OK. I mean, it's the summer so it's not all WOO! like in spring time, but it looks just like our golden hillsides in this golden state which is to say the meadow is golden. AKA it looks like it's dead and that we are neglectful homeowners. 

I'll be working out some of the kinks in the meadow this fall so that it looks less like "Um, does anyone live here?" next summer and fall than it does now. 

Do you even knit anymore?
See above.

How I decided that sewing as a profession wasn't for me...
Yeah, so remember when I made the Not Ugly Car Trash Bag? Yeah. Well, I put it up on Etsy for a while and offered my services for a price. Like, I'd sew you a custom Not Ugly Car Trash Bag for some price (I can't even remember now how much) and then *gasp* someone wanted me to make it for that price.

Actually, I should say that they wanted me to make a dozen of them for that price. For some event they were having that involved hair dryers, a corporate promotion and the Hamptons.

In a week's time.

And because I don't know how to manage my time but I do know how to piss it away, I told them I'd do it and then I spent every non-work waking hour fulfilling my obligations. 

Then, after I'd fulfilled my obligation and resumed normal sleeping hours, I swore I'd never do it again because LOATHE.

My sewing machine and I did not get along well during our inseparable time together and I'll tell you right now that it is only because I WILL NOT WELSH ON A PROMISE that I did not spike that soul crushing machine on my dining room floor.

Also because my dining room floor could likely have not taken that kind of impact. 

But really, it was about the fact that I needed that machine so that I wouldn't disappoint this person/company to whom I had made this promise and so I did not get all Office Space on its ass even though it sooooooooooooorely deserved it.

Sunuvabithing machine that breaks needles going through quilter's cotton COME ON.

What ever happened to all that crap you wrote for NaNoWriMo?
Well, firstly you're right to call it crap. Because it was. And - HEY HEY - it still is because I have not gone back to edit a single word of it. Any of the three years I've done it. 

That's right. Three years in a row I wrote 50,000+ words in the month of November for NaNoWriMo and have done dick with the results.

Nothing. 

They're all sitting on my laptop in Scrivener gathering dust and my growing hatred. 

They're all unwashed garbage unfit even for my compost bin. 

Sure, they might be something if I cared one big rat's behind to go in and edit them, but I have bigger tastier fish to fry about now and all of those words can just sit there being the awkwardly constructed sentences and the plot holes that they are until such time as I see fit to pick them apart and reconstruct them into completely different sentences and plot holes.

Maybe.

One day.

Doesn't mean I won't go at NaNoWriMo again this November. And it also doesn't mean that this year's NaNoWriMo 50,000 words won't be the same variety of horseshit. But it probably means that this year's words will end up a similar looking pile which I will ignore forever.

Also, no you may not read any of it. Because I'm pretty sure it's not even written in English or a modern language any of us understand. 

Just come to this blog for proof of that fact.

Ever think of cleaning up that language?
Fuck that.

Don't you think you're becoming an alcoholic? 
Probably. It's my most effective coping mechanism, so coping with that realization has had unfortunate results. I am keeping it mostly in check though, so please don't alert the authorities or my mother. 

You're shaving your heads and moving to Nepal for a year.
No and no. 

When are we going to play? 
Checkers? Scramble on the cell phone? Hopscotch? Name that tune? I don't know. Email me at finnyknitsATgmailDOTcom and, when we're in the same hood, maybe we'll work something out. Meanwhile, if you do play Scramble on the cell phone, my username is finnyknits (shocker) and I do want to play. So there.

Who gets invited to your fantasy dinner party?
People who like whatever I happen to be cooking that night, clean up after themselves, bring booze, like dogs and don't mind eating outside because our dining room is small.

I don't really have fantasies about dinner parties at my house because, frankly, the idea of it stresses me out. 

Honestly, I'd just like to have over people I already know so that there's no pressure to remember names or cater to anyone's bullshit dietary needs.

Whose singing voice do you wish you had? 
Pretty  much anyone's but my own. I am a terrible singer. It's awful, really. Not that it stops me from singing - I totally sing - but I get mean looks and people throw trash at me, so I try to keep the public singing to a minumum.

I guess if I could choose, I'd have Billie Holliday's singing voice. She is one of my favorite singers and her voice is unequaled in the world today. 

What would you title your autobiography? 
I'm not for everyone. 

What top ten CDs can't you live without? 
I don't think I've handled a CD in years, but I'll play ball. Though I'm going to go with artists because I can never choose one album over another. That's a job for someone like Bubba who knows music better than I.

FYI: I don't know dick about music. Bubba's been trying to educate me for years by asking me "Hey, name the band!" when something's playing on the loudspeaker somewhere. I never know the band. Literally, not ever. Even if it's the Rolling Stones. 

OK, maybe once I got it when it was AC/DC, but it's a super rare occasion. To the point where Bubba will look visibly relieved that there's evidence that his wife may not be a total music retard. 

The fact is that I mostly just like genres of music rather than particular artists. And I can always tell you the genre I'm in the mood for. 

Like, when Bubba asks me what I want to listen to, I'll say something like, "Oh! Something doodly-doo!" which falls into the jam band genre or "Lady jazz!" which means, well, vocal jazz or "WAAAAAAAAA" which means hard rock (I think the genre is technically called ScreamO, but that's lame sounding. Instead we call it WAAAAAA because that's the sound they make when they "sing".)

I mostly like Doodly-doo, Lady Jazz and WAAAAAAAAA.

You get it? Kinda. 

Best I know how to describe my fucked up music taste is to say that I know the sounds I like and these people make those sounds.

(in no particular order)

1. Billie Holliday
2. Volbeat
3. Dave Matthews
4. John Hiatt
5. Sarah Vaughan
6. Seether
7. Widespread Panic
8. Theory of a Dead Man
9. Django Reinhart
10. Warren Haynes

What are your phobias? 
Failure. 

Arriving at my death bed regretting not having done things that I TOTALLY could have done but didn't do because I was lazy or afraid.

Grasshoppers. They jump at your face and that is wrong.

Horses. They have enormous teeth that could totally bite your face off.

Chimpanzees. Because they ripped some girl's face off. 

I think I have a face issue. Maybe I have a face phobia? No. That makes no sense. 

Militant religious evangelists.

Who is a real hero in your way of thinking? 
Anyone who makes their own way in the world rather than adhering to the norm. 

People whose default setting is optimism and positivity.

Each of my best friends.

My grandmother.

What Olympic sport would you chose to medal in? 
The biathlon. It's the coolest of the Olympic sports. Or maybe the high dive. That shit is just amazing. Also, I'd like to know that no matter how high the dive, I wouldn't belly flop because OW.

Were you born in the wrong century?
Probably.  A future century where all my beefs with our current century have been sorted out and we all have jet packs fueled by something biodegradable like religious evangelists' limbs.

Can you tango?
Nope. 

What's the worst thing you've ever tasted?
Grilled beef liver. Thought it was a small piece of steak. Was tragically wrong. Had to spit it out on the ground. 

The dog liked it though. 

What's the best? 
Warm Brandywine tomatoes fresh off of my plants. 

Do you believe in ghosts? 
Eh. Not in any real way.

Who among your friends do you admire the most and why? 
I don't really admire one over the others, but of close friends, I admire certain things about each of them THE MOST of anyone I know.

Does that make sense?

Like, Kelli's dedication to writing and her bravery for moving to a new place for the sake of pursuing her own happiness.

And Shelley's bravery for moving to a new country - TWICE - in pursuit of her own happiness.

And Decca and Fo's Blaze Your Own Path Despite The Norms approach to working and managing a household.

Bubba's ability to figure out how to do anything. And then do it. Well.

Elke's ingenuity with languages and how well she knows herself. Also, her fantastic German-ness. 

Dave and Aimee's adventurous spirits and the fact that they're the best travel and ski buddies. Plus Dave's ability to out-swear me.

I could go on. 

I really admire people who go in the direction of their own happiness and don't accept what the world tells them they should be doing. Bravery. Competence. Dedication. Adventurous spirit. These are all good things.

What book do you wish you had written? 
Winterdance. Which would mean that I would have raced in the Iditarod. Which would be incredible.

What movie will you watch every time it's on no matter how many times you've seen it? 

Tombstone. Cold Mountain. Sixteen Candles. A River Runs Through It. High Fidelity. Australia. Say Anything. Star Wars. Out of Africa. Indiana Jones. Tommy Boy. Legends of the Fall. Lots of other ones that are even more shameful than these. 

Who did you lose your virginity to and how? 
Some dude. In the normal way.

Do you believe in god? 
No.

If you had to swap lives with a friend for a month whose life would you choose? 
My friend Christine who's living in Paris right now. She just spent a year in Zurich and that's just awesome.

What food or beverage have you always wanted to try but haven't? 
I've always wanted to eat at the French Laundry, but haven't had the chance yet. I've also wanted to try durian because I imagine it's tragically bad and I want to know *just how bad*. Or, as the case sometimes is with things that *everyone* says is awful - *just how great*.

Why do you run? 
Because this.

Where does the name "Finny" come from? 
From here.

What language would you like to speak fluently? 
Italian and Spanish. I'm much closer on Spanish, but I haven't spent as much time with Italian because of my one million other hobbies.

Actually, fuck that shit, I'd rather be able to speak Greek. Or Japanese. Or Arabic. Or Pashto. Or something that would completely freak people out to hear me - a blondish American girl - speaking fluently.

What celebrity do you have a crush on? 
John Cusak. Matt Damon. Renee Russo. The Rock. Pierce Brosnan. Nicole Kidman. Mike Rowe. Val Kilmer. Johnny Knoxville. 

Have you ever been arrested?
Yep. 

Ok, so that ought to do it. Every single one of your questions has been answered in one way or another and the window for question asking is now closed.

That's mean, isn't it?

Whatever...on to post 999 and the Super Secret Guest Blogger who you've probably already guessed.

Then...1,000 and the BIG HUGE THING NEWS.

I'm going to go jump in a lake now.

Countdown to 1,000 and an adventure of the life variety.

You know what's on the horizon out there? Aside from the sun and shit?

My 1,000th post.

Yep, that's the right amount of zeros. So many that I had to add a comma.

One thousand posts, people - that's a LOT of swears and knitting and growing crazy plants and throwing scissors across the room in a quilting-fueled rage and big messes in the kitchen and adventures with Bubba and old cars and new dogs and oh nooooooooooooooooooooooooo and blahblahblah.

Right? It feels like a lot.

In fact, it feels like I was a totally different person when I started this blog SEVEN years ago.

Wow, let's just sit and think about *that* number for a minute. Seven years of putting words onto the internet in a somewhat coherent fashion. Freaky.

So, here's what I'm thinking - since I keep alluding to this BIG HUGE THING that's coming to Finnyknits and since I have this 1,000th post coming up in...oh...lemme see...SEVEN posts from now, I'm thinking that we'll treat the next seven posts as a countdown to 1,000.

And on the 1,000th post I'll share the BIG HUGE NEWS that I've been sitting on.

The BIG HUGE NEWS that will be so big and huge that our lives (OK, maybe just mine and Bubba's) will never be the same and some people will certainly think I'm scrambled in the brains and some people will think that YAY! and everyone will be able to follow along with what happens after the BIG HUGE NEWS if they keep tabs on this here blog.

Which should be entertaining if what you like to do is live vicariously through someone doing bizarre things with their life. Or you like to judge. It'll be fun for that, too.

But until then, we'll count down with posts about whatever the hell you may want to know about me or want me to write about.

Perhaps a lost topic from the archives?
Perhaps a burning Finny question about whothehellknowswhat?
Perhaps you'd just like my take on the political landscape at the moment or how I feel about the riGODDAMNEDdiculous commercialization of the Olympics and how I will.not.watch.it. now that McDonald's has decided that they're the only ones who can sell "fries" and anyone caught using the Olympics logo or namesake (ruh roh) will be strung up by their toenails and bludgeoned with a trademark infringement lawsuit?

Or...
What ever happened to the Ugly Librarian Sweater?
How come Bubba and I don't have any kids...
How that front yard meadow is working out...
Do you even knit anymore?
How I decided that sewing as a profession wasn't for me...
What ever happened to all that crap you wrote for NaNoWriMo?
Ever think of cleaning up that language?
Don't you think you're becoming an alcoholic?

That's right - whatever you want to know or hear about - leave it in the comments. Go on, don't even be shy about it. That's not what we're about around here, you know that. Get your questions out into the world! Say a swear! There are no bad words here! 

And then, for five posts, I will do your bidding writing about whatever you want.

Then post 999 will feature one special post by one special guest blogger. GUESS WHO.

Then post 1,000 will be me sharing with you the BIG HUGE THING NEWS which is so BIG HUGE THING NEWS so that it now has its own label. Right there on the right. Go click right on it. For practice or whatever.

And then, well, then we will obviously all need a drink, so I will unveil the latest Official Drink of Finnyknits to kick off what should be a pretty exciting or at least entertaining for voyeurs and people who are looking to judge adventure of the life variety.

*sucks in a deep breath and has a minor heart attack*

Let us join together as one in our holiday pet peeves

I just wanted to check in and make sure that you all survived the craziest holiday shopping weekend in history.

Crazy in the sense that people were nearly (or totally? I didn't follow up on the news stories because they were too depressing) killed attempting to buy waffle irons for $2 and such.

I just feel like the holidays have lost their appeal when celebrating them involves the use of pepper spray, rioting or handguns on fellow citizens of humanity.

Perhaps, in that sense, I am the crazy one, but I'm willing to accept that.

Meanwhile, sorry the blog has been so quiet this month. NaNoWriMo is nearly over (3 more days! 6,000 more words! I need to give myself constant pep talks and use a lot of exclamation points so that I don't shrivel up into a lumpy pile of despair! Forgive me!) and I really really want to be back with you guys, hanging out here, bitching about the aforementioned holiday insanity and also showing you pictures of things I'm making, eating, drinking and pointing at in horror.

Yeah, I feel renewed attention to my favorite game of Holiday Fugly coming on, so I hope you're ready for my Holiday Ranting A-Game.

Got some holiday rantings of your own? I totally want to hear them. It may even inspire me to go on a whole new rant of my own.

And wouldn't that be nice? Some togetherness, some camaraderie, some linking of arms and pointing of collective fingers during this season of holiday?

I think so.

So spill it in the comments: Holiday Pet Peeves...GO. And remember - you can say swears here and I heartily encourage it.

FINE, I WILL THEN. [Tutorial]

I finally gave in today and hatched a craft.

I've been staring at the leaves for months, here at home, in Arkansas, in Tahoe - I just keep staring at them and fantasizing about making wreaths, taking their picture, becoming ONE with them.

Stop staring at me, swan!

Because I'm obviously a psycho.

And then I saw Dig's post about Bleeping Wreaths and was all, Oh look how pretty! I want to make a wreath from leaves! but then I was all, But oh, Bubba hates holiday decorations and I could never hang one on our front door screen door because he'd totally poop but then I was all, I bet I can make one that's really lightweight and won't wreck the screen or I can put it someplace where he won't get all WHAT'S UP, HOLIDAY LOSER or whatever. 

It was a whole thing.

So this weekend came along, when Bubba was going out of town and I was left unsupervised in the presence of leaves and fall and wreath making materials abounding just all over the fucking place, so after a lot of hemming and mental hawing over What If Bubba Hates It and I Have To Explain Myself For Making Something Holiday-ish, I shut up my mind and just did it.

And, really, there's nothing HOLIDAY-y about fall leaves, really. When you think about it. Which I did. Lots.

Also, there's so much other shit I needed to do, that I was having a hard time justifying taking time to make wreaths that might not be met with the warmest acceptance and approval. Until I realized that I was actually standing still, staring at the space on the wall where I wanted to put these alleged wreaths and had stopped all productive activity to do so, and so wasn't doing anything anyway.

Exactly what my mind was imagining.

I was just wasting time staring and wanting and itching to craft and so I told myself to stop being such a freak and just do what the crafting fingers wanted: Make a god damned wreath and shut the hell up, self. 

So I did.

Yeah - take that, self.

Also, I went and took pictures of the pistache trees that are all aflame with fall on our street. They've been staring at me all week and I just needed to get them together with the camera for a quick second before they were barren from the windy rainy weather and I had to be all sad that I missed my chance and begin administering the mental beatings that would carry over until next fall.

Aflame, I tell you.

Sometimes it takes a lot of self flagellation for anything to get done around here, is what I'm saying.

See, that wasn't so hard. I don't know why I make things so difficult.

 And then, after photographing the trees and collecting leaves in the rain from my neighbors' driveways while they looked out at me with pity from their living room windows (Hi, people - FYI: Pointing is not helping.), I took 20 god damned minutes and made two adorable wreaths that, when Bubba rolls his eyes and points to them in a few months when it's Valentine's Day and they're still hanging on the wall, will get thrown into the vegetable beds and composted because TAH DOW they are biodegradable.

Score.

Simple Ass Wreaths Tutorial

Makes 2 wreaths

Materials
A bunch of leaves of whatever colors are around
An old file folder
Hot glue gun with hot glue sticks
1 foot of ribbon, strip of cloth, length of twine - whatever tying implement you have lying about tangling up with other shit in your craft supplies
Scissors
Tape
Two different sized bowls that both fit on one half of the file folder

How to
(Sorry, no photos of the process. I was in and out of this project in about 20 minutes and thought I'd end up throwing it away in the composter, so didn't take any pictures. That'll teach me.)
Take your file folder, and keeping it folded, trace the circumference of the larger bowl onto the folder. Then put the smaller bowl inside that circle and trace that one so that you now have a nice O shape at least two inches wide.

Cut the Os out.

Heat up the glue gun and start gluing down leaves in whatever fashion suits you. I layered them up with their stem ends all going the same direction until the stems started getting in the way and then I just cut them off. And because I don't like waste - even wasting of shit that was going to be thrown in a heap at the curb anyway - I used all the leaves and just started gluing and stuffing them in wherever they'd fit when I got to the last few.

Make the other wreath just like I said, there.

Loop your tying implement (I used some 1" ribbon left in my wrapping supply box) over the first wreath and tuck it behind the leaves on the front. Tape it down to the cardboard O backing and tuck the other end over the other wreath and tape that down.

You're done.

Oh. Yeah. That was pretty fast.

Yeah, that's pretty much it.

I hung mine by hiding a tack behind the leaves on the top wreath and pinning it to the wall, but you could tie another length of ribbon or whatever to the top wreath and swing it over your front door (I tried this, but I knew Bubba would hate it so I stopped) or tie a bow in it and pin it to the wall from the bow or even loop it over the top of a framed picture and tape it to the back. You could also hang it from a suction cup hook to your front windows, like I imagined doing when I was in denial about Bubba's hatred for all things Holiday Decorate-y, but I'll leave it to you to determine how much of a scrooge your beloved might be.

The only other thing I did was go back to the wreath, after it was hung where I wanted it, and glued some of the floppy leaves in place so they wouldn't dry all wonky. But if you're using leaves that are already real dry, you won't have to do this.

Then sit at your bar, even though it's 11am and there's no need for cocktails just yet, and write a blog post about what a lunatic you are and how you should probably not be left unsupervised and how you should REALLY be writing all these words for NaNoWriMo since you have about 1500 to go for the day and you haven't even typed word ONE.

So, yeah, I'll be seeing you. Happy wreathing.