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Saturday, September 07, 2013

Montana some more and The Ugly Librarian Sweater goes nigh-night

OK - I'm, like, one hundred posts behind y'all, and it's because I don't have dick for time and HEY! school just started back up again, I have events for Indie Farms going on and I'm desperately trying to get out on The Big Boss Lady whenever possible so my time having is slimmer than ever.

BUT - I don't feel right having all this stuff clogging up my brain all unshared with you guys because, you know, you're my people.

So, my people, I'm just going to share everything with you right now.

ALL OF IT.

Prepare thyself...

MISSOULA.


I fucking finally went to Missoula and I saw Dig and her fam and ALICE! (Oh how I've loved Alice from afar and hooray she's just as face-cuddle-friendly as I'd hoped) and oh my god I swam in Dig's river just like I'd been threatening to do for a really long creepy time.

Friends, my people, I think I got kinda creepy with my river swim wantings.

But whatever, because Donk and I took our yearly travels to Missoula this year and LO did we swim/soak/dangle our faces off in that fabulous Montana river.

Too cold to get in?

SHUT YOUR FOOL MOUTH.

I got right in. And then smiled my fucking face off.

Also my feet. They are clearly smiling here as you can plainly see.

People - my people - Missoula is badass. I love it there. Frankly, I pretty much love all the parts of Montana I've seen and every time I go (all three times), Bubba convinces me evermore that that this is a future home for us.

They have local breweries. Score one for Bubba.

They have roof patio bars with awesome food that you can eat while shielded from the approaching thunderstorm in a cozy nook just off the patio. Score one for both of us. We miss real weather - is that weird?

They have farms. Score one for me.

They have a long enough growing season for heirloom tomatoes. Score one for me.

They have the "Fuck the fucking farmers' market" with its ridiculous elbowy crowds but also delicious food and friendly vendors, which is score-one-for-me in a bunch of ways.

But I think Bubba is only thinking of one thing when he envisions our future life in Montana.

I happy Bubba.

Bubba likey Montana.
It snows here year round, right?
Yeah - I'm willing to let him think whatever he wants if that means I get to move here.

Meanwhile, Donk and I had a badass ol' time in Montana.

Just drinks in Dig's yard. That's all. IT WAS ONLY GREAT.

Kelli got to hug the kiddos.

I ate this chorizo burrito two days in a row.

The Missoula Art Museum happened and was ah-mazing.

Fabulous drinks were had.

And did I mention that I swam in the river for two days? Because I did. MY ASS OFF. Also, I got that visor from some random DirecTV vendor under the guise of "I'll wear it all around and show everyone how much I love DirecTV" which was a total lie because I hate DirecTV since they totally jacked their rates every year without offering any new programming and also were dicks that one time I called regular "customer support" instead of the "Premium Customer Support" that came with my monthly rape fee of $5.99 so HA! I wore this visor to the river where there weren't any people and then I left it in the hotel room for the sexy Mexican maid so fart on you, DirecTV. Wow. This is a long photo caption.

I also hugged Dig, though not here in this photo, and wandered her garden.
 I also let Margot run free with my camera and sunglasses, resulting in these very nice SUPER CLOSE UP photos.
And I played with the pancake machine at our hotel.
I guess you could say that I had a pretty fucking awesome time.

Then I came home and made all my man's dreams come true.

In the sense that I cleaned out my dresser (which has nothing to do with his dreams, only my nightmares) and *GASP* decided it was high time I donated the Ugly Librarian Sweater.

Oh yes, my people, The Ugly Librarian Sweater is on its way to the Salvation Army truck sometime next Tuesday whenever they swing by my front porch.


Farewell, old friend. We've had many ugly good warm times together.


See, lovies, Bubba gave me a bunch of great gifts for my birthday and one of those things was a big gray hoodie with a fun bike graphic on it and it's cuddly and soft and OH MY GOD IS THIS MEANT TO REPLACE THE UGLY LIBRARIAN SWEATER I see what you're doing here, Bubba and I won't fall for it or will I?

As it turns out, I will.

Because, as it also turns out, he fucking hates the Ugly Librarian Sweater.

It's ugly, he says.

It's SUPER ugly, he says.

I HATE IT SO MUCH, he says.

And when I ask him if he really hates it and wants me to get rid of it...he says nothing.

So, my thought is that if he went so far to gift me a really nice substitute sweater woobie (because this sweater has been my winter I'M FUCKING FREEZING woobie for a dozen years), I should probably wise up and ditch the old one, wear the new one and then score this winter as I prance about in the woobie HE gave me, even though it's just as shapeless and gray as the old thing that he apparently hates.

What? Is this not hot? Oh.

So, here's to hoping that by giving up the object of his apparently textile hatred, I will score this winter while wearing its substitute.

Admittedly, I do love it. 

Though I'm failing to see how this new gray sweatshirt is more attractive.

Perhaps it's the bike that makes it hotter?

I  wonder how he'd feel about the ULS if I drew a bike on it?

What? No go? Less hot somehow? Yeah. Agreed.

So, yeah, the new winter woobie sweatshirt will be on my body constantly as soon as the temperatures drop below HELL HOT and it's somehow blissfully sweatshirt weather again.

Go on. I'll wait.
Oh and geez, I have a lot of gardeny stuff to share with you guys, like my first ever BLOW THE DOORS OFF pepper year (including habaneros - woo!), seed saving like a fucking maniac and all the fall and winter stuff I'm putting in but...well, you chew on this mess for a minute and I'll see what I can do about rounding up some decent photos since I still haven't been able to reset my camera to pre-Margot settings.

8 comments:

  1. I am at this very moment wearing my own version of your Librarian Sweater--an extra-big (read: shapeless) corduroy shirt that I bought to replace my LAST extra-big corduroy shirt when it wore out. My husband calls it my Act of Aggression. But he wasn't smart enough to buy me a replacement, so the Act of Aggression it is.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. And this is what happens when we are left to our own devices when it comes to clothes. Let this be a lesson to all husbands...

      Delete
  2. This makes ME want to go to Montana. And Montana was never on the list of desired vacation spots. But hot damn, it's added.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. YES! It is pretty rad. And I know you can handle the winters, so it wouldn't be all WHAT THE HELL IS THIS WHITE STUFF COMING FROM THE SKY for you and shit.

      Delete
  3. I so loved playing in that garden. And not just because Dig's margaritas were so good I COULDN"T OPEN MY EYES.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yeah - we both suffered from some margarita induced vision impairment...

      Delete
  4. I think I like the ugly assed (Better termed "Act of Aggression" and thank you for the proper name) sweater with a bike expertly drawn on it. Can you get that back, and can I have the new one for myself?

    Schwinn Stingray assembly diagrams are so last decade.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. GET THE SWEATER BACK??? Surely you jest. Since I heard you playing Taps when Salvation Army carted it away.

      Delete

[2013 update: You can't comment as an anonymous person anymore. Too many douchebags were leaving bullshit SPAM comments and my inbox was getting flooded, but if you're here to comment in a real way like a real person, go to it.]

Look at you commenting, that's fun.

So, here's the thing with commenting, unless you have an email address associated with your own profile, your comment will still post, but I won't have an email address with which to reply to you personally.

Sucks, right?

Anyway, to remedy this, I usually come back to my posts and post replies in the comment field with you.

But, if you ever want to email me directly to talk about pumpkins or shoes or what it's like to spend a good part of your day Swiffering - shoot me an email to finnyknitsATgmailDOTcom.

Cheers.