Look at me go!

I realized that I'm becoming a greedy blogger and should prolly change my ways before someone calls me out on it. I mean, my eyeballs are primed and steaming to read the daily posts from some of my favorite bloggers every morning, and then after reading these luscious insightful posts - what do I do? I might post a comment, but beyond that I go back to my daily ways slurping my tea and working my fingers to the nub without posting myself.

Rude!

I know.

Ok, now there may not be hordes of folks out there shining their eyes like red ripe apples anxious to read what exactly I think I'm doing over here in Finnyland, but if the day comes, I want to be ready.

Summary: I'm going to try to post more. If not just for me (Uh-huh, I'm wildly self-involved, member?) then maybe for my few sets of loyal eyeballs. And I'm not going to get all, "Why hasn't anyone commented on my fabulous post? Does the world hate Finny? I'm going to go eat some worms." Because that is boring. Instead, I'm going to try to use this blog for good instead of evil which will inevitably mean more gumming about the plants, crafting, kitchening, summering, etc that happens here everyday. It's fun at Finny's! Really.

Ok, self-pep talk over. Guess who wandered in when I got to the office this morning? New puppy, Kona! Bless whoever came up with our dog policy here at work, because there is nothing that takes off the dull sheen of a weekday morning like a giddy pup. Does he care that I have only come to visit him in his office lockdown once since he joined us? No. Does he care that I nearly creamed him with the door when I kicked it open? No. And he also does not even care when I wipe off his puppy kisses right after he plants them on me. In fact, I think it encourages him.



This is him sitting just like he was asked to for the photo. Clearly, he's a genius. As soon as we reconstruct our shabby fence (there are currently slats laying haphazardly about the yard from our last storm) I'm hoping to have a friend for Kona to play with.

On a separate note, I had another convo with Me last night that I'd like to share in order to further illustrate specifically what kind of nutcase I truly am...

Me: Dude, are you really sleeping on the couch at 7pm?

Me: No, I'm resting my eyes and listening to the Giants game.

Me: You lie.

Me: No really, they're losing right now -- see?

Me: Ha, whatever. You know their record this season, they're always losing.

Me: Oh hardy har har, Barry's about to hit 714 you know?

Me: Yes. Weeeeeeeeee. Isn't there at least ONE other thing you could be doing while the game drolls on in the background?

Me: Fine. I suppose I could start cutting out fabric for Backtack 3

Me: Now we're talking! Ass off couch, woman -- get the scissors and the machine!

Me: I don't recall saying anything about sewing any fabric.

Me: Oh come on! It'll be fun! Don't you want to see how this pattern will come out? You've never made anything from this pattern before?

Oh crap, I've said too much...

Regardless, good night near the tube listening to the Giants lose and Barry NOT hit 714 while I cut, pinned and began sewing (I got talked into it) my Backtack 3 project. With any luck, Knittale will not be horrified with my black, white and OTHER choices for this project. On a positive note, I'm really liking how this pattern shapes up when it's all cut out and semi-standing on my dining room table sans-fill. Mental note: Buy fill this weekend. Softie looks bizarre like uninflated balloon without it.

Finny news update: Hubby gets home from Vegas today! Woo hoo! No more salami and peanut butter for dinner! Yes. That is right. I eat random food (if any) when I have no one else to cook for. Parmesan asparagus, chipotle grilled chicken and greek spinach salad exist only with hubby in the house to eat (and PRAISE) the food.

Praise comes in many forms, people.

Granted, Rocket would love some extra snacks, but according to her ever expanding waistline (cats have waists), she is getting extra snacks somewhere.


It appears that Rocket exists in ball form now. Don't tell her that bikini season is rapidly approaching, it'll make her hit the bowl even harder.

And with that, I leave you to your day. Now I can go read up on Farmgirl's lambie encounters, Africankelli's wanderlust and Monstercrochet's escape from the cube farm without my daily case of guilt.