This picture is rated "R". 

French Nipple Bag aka French Market Bag aka Gigantic Lifesaver Package

Does this not make you think of this in the Woody Allen movie? There are more pictures to come as these are all pre-felted. Notice the nippleage. I am told this will come out in the wash. We shall see.

Ever see the Woody Allen movie "EVERTHING YOU ALWAYS WANTED TO KNOW ABOUT SEX BUT WERE AFRAID TO ASK"?  

Continued nippleage 

There are no words... 

A Word About the Neverending, Ass Sticking to your Underwear Heat

It never rains in California
But girl, don't they warn ya
It pours man it pours.
Out of work, I'm out of my head
Out of self respect I'm out of bread
I'm under loved I'm under fed
I wanna go home
It never rains in California

Okay, I was very little when this song came out but I remember it playing on the radio that sat in our kitchen when I was this high. I have to talk about the heat. I've been trying to ignore it, avoid it and possibly even thwart it but it ain't happin'. First, let us delve into the genealogical history of Btchwstix, to completely understand the complexity and gravity of this situation. My mother's mother is from this country. My mother's father is from this country. Both of my father's parents are from this country. Specifically, here. As much as I have always wished to be dark, tanned and exotic looking, I am not. Not even close. As a matter of fact, when I was born, all the neighbours thought my mother adopted me, I was so fair. Now don't get me wrong, I don't look like this, but I am still not exotic looking. My point is, I am not a tropical flower that thrives in the heat, humidity and sultriness of Southern Ontario. I am more of an English Rose that thrives on temperate conditions with the odd rain shower thrown in for good measure. I was not built for this weather.

As stated in the title of this post, my chaci gaucies are sticking to my rump. My hair will NOT curl, straighten, bounce or style. When I undo my bra at night, it is so sticky, it continues to hold up breasts without outside help. My already rosy cheeks are permanently tattooed with that "she looks like she's about to have a coronary" look and the sweat above my upper lip could water my now permanently brown grass. I haven't turned the oven on in almost three weeks and I'm going to have to learn how to barbecue pasta. The central air conditioning has been running straight for 3 weeks and every night I have to pray to the Energy gods (as opposed to the Water gods, we remember them well, yes?).

I want to move. I know I can't but I want to. Really. Now. Here looks good. I could knit all year round with local wool. And you wouldn't have to read these pathetic posts about Toronto's tropical weather.

A Germaphobic's Delight

I know, there is no word "germaphobic" but I have been called that so many times I've decided to integrate it into my vocabulary, so there. This book is proving to be very informative and possibly even life extending. I am always looking for more ways to stay healthy and this seemed to foot the bill. It is a compilation of information regarding the entire body, from the immune system to gum disease and bad breath. This all interests me greatly as I have a compromised immune system that prevents me from fighting off certain infections including sinus infections, UTI's and other assorted maladies. I especially like the Chapter "Best Optimizing Options ~ Strategies~Treatments Reference". If you are anything like me, and question the validity of your doctor's advice on occasion and are perhaps sick of another round of antibiotics, this may be a good read for you.

Broken Knitting Needles 101

My disappointment cannot be expressed by mere words. Just look at the picture folks. Brings a tear to the eye does it not? My beautiful handmade rosewood needles from Turn of the Century totally annihilated. How you ask? Weren't they just quietly minding their own business in the little wicker basket on the floor in the family room? Didn't you at one time think "Mmmm, maybe I should move those, DN3 (7 year old) may one day decide to play with them and possibly break your coveted handmade rosewood needles from Turn of the Century?" And didn't you still ignore this little warning bell in your head and continue on with your mundane existence? But the biggest disappointment may well have been the knock on your bedroom door by daughters one AND two, (almost 16 year old and almost 13 year old), begging for forgiveness as it was THEM that broke it, fighting with it no less. The irony here? They were a Mother's gift from last year. Found this when I googled "broken knitting needle". Some consolation I guess. Especially if I find someone the size of a house elf that wants to knit with handmade rosewood needles.

The French Nipple Bag is doing well, okay. It is no longer a large pert nipple. It is now a small, less aroused nipple, but still, I would categorically state, a nipple. I wish to thank all those wonderful suggestions I received and the hint to remove the first couple of rows worked out very well. Not as much nippleage. Can you imagine the complete and utter disappointment of the people that are googling "nipples" etc and are ending up on my knitting website. Kinda funny.

My life is still a sitcom. Stay tuned.

Found this. I want one. Their asses ALL look better than mine.

What possible words are there to describe this? 

Having problems with the big nipple thing

In my lame attempt at a French Market Bag I have ended up with a French Nipple Bag that looks like a package of Lifesavers. I believe the problem was I didn't have big enough dpns for the start up so I used some smaller ones, hence the nippleage. Trying to decide whether it will kinda disappear during the felting or is it going to become just a smaller, yet firmer nipple? Believe me, any advice will be totally analyzed AND appreciated.

My guilt is slowly subsiding about the, you know, earlier post thing. Although, a friend of my husband's humour hasn't helped. He gets a wrong phone number in my presence and doesn't he scream into the phone "Wrong number! Go hang yourself". I'm pretty sure the person had already hung up. I am living a Seinfeld episode.

How do I get rid of the "nipple effect"? 

Does this not look like a giant nipple? 

See? 

Pack Your Bags, Baby, You're Goin On A Guilt Trip (I may be a while)

Holy Crap. WTF and every other expletive you can think of. This one is kinda of a biggie. I have done some really stupid, idiotic, and possibly even moronic things before, but this takes the cake. God forgive me, please and I promise I will go to confession asap. Okay here's the story, Cripes are you sitting down?

At Christmas time, my husband told me to go to Rogers and pick up a cell phone for me and DN1. We get some nice ones (got her the camera one) and things should end there yes? No. Shortly after, I start getting wrong numbers. A lot of wrong numbers. Like, we're talking some days up to 20-30. Most of them I miss, can't find the phone, in my purse, yada, yada, yada. Anyway, I figure the best solution is call Rogers and get them to change my phone number. Well, being a large multinational type company it was not that easy. Although I purchased the phone, and carry the phone and my name is listed as the user of said phone, I cannot change the number as the contact name for this account is my husband's office manager (they pay the monthly bill). Needless to say, I never got around to it because I need this special letter thing and well you know how it goes. So I live with the constant wrong numbers but here's the problem.

They are slowly driving me crazy. When I am carrying groceries from the car to the house the phone rings. When I am trying to merge into 4 lanes of traffic on the 401, the phone rings (don't answer it). When I am lying in the dentist chair with the hygenist admonishing me for not coming in once every three months for her overzealous "cleaning", the phone is ringing. I begin to lose it with the callers. Gently at first, then full blown "Stop calling me. This is a cell number. You're costing me minutes". Did I mention it rings all night?

Today was like any other day. Up at 8:00, making kids Sunday brekkie, cell phone rings but this call is a little different. The caller asks if this is the DISTRESS LINE? Yes, you heard me correctly. So just to be sure, I go online and do different variations of my cellphone number. Guess what? I am one digit away from the PEEL REGION SUICIDE/DISTRESS LINE!!!

I can't believe a bolt of lightning has not zapped me.

So much to blog, so little time

Just a quick update, as things are pretty wild here. I know, I know, how long does it take to jot down a few words but life is crazy. Between, soccer games, soccer practices, soccer pictures, DN1's exams and that pain in the butt, life, well things are hectic. So, for your viewing pleasure (and because I don't think I have ever posted garden pictures before, I must be the only blogger without garden or cat pictures) here ya go. Enjoy.

Aren't they lovely? 

My William Baffin rose from the Explorer Series 

My short lived peonies, go on take a long look, it will be another 50 weeks til you see them again 

Meadow Flowers Shawl from "Knitter's Stash" (remember all that Anny Blatt mohair?) 

Sweater for hubby based on "The Manly Sweater" from the "Stitch n' Bitch" book