Thursday Thirteen

Thirteen Things about GREENTUNA

Thirteen Ways Barbie Has It Better Than I Do

Barbie Forever Dreamhouse

1. Barbie: Mechanical washer and dryer with real spinning action
1. GreenTuna: Mechanical washer with the main control knob broken off meaning you have to break your fingers pushing it in and turning it, or go after it with a pair of pliers.

2. Barbie: A bedroom that transforms into a living room
2. GreenTuna: A bedroom that transforms into an unholy war between laundry and dust bunnies.

Oktoberfest Barbie

3. Barbie: A Kick-Ass Bier-Frau dress with a lacy petticoat, long white stockings, black felt bustier, a low-cut blouse for cleavage display and ribboned-braids.
3. GreenTuna: Three pairs of hose with runs, black Pay-Less pumps with worn-out heels, hair too short to sustain braids, cleavage.

Barbie Magical Dance Castle

4. Barbie: A bed large enough to sleep nine.
4. GreenTuna: A bed which must accommodate cats jumping, sleeping and killing each other.

5. Barbie: A table the converts into a bed for triplets.
5. GreenTuna: HA! No triplets here. I win this round.

Barbie Beach Glam Vehicle
6. Barbie: A separate vehicle. For the beach
6. GreenTuna: One rustbucket fits all.

7. Barbie: Car seats are removable and can be used as beach chairs.
7. GreenTuna: Car seats are permanent, but comes with decades of life-sustaining crumbs.


Barbie Beach Glam Pool!
8. Barbie: Pool
8. GreenTuna: Hose

9. Barbie: Gathers her friends around the pool (with slide and umbrella) for relaxation and fun!
9. GreenTuna: Hose


Barbie Fashion Fever Velvet Crush Couch

10. Barbie: Style AND Alliteration
10. GreenTuna: Chair. Lamp. Table. Not even a decent haiku.

11. Barbie: Fashionable and trendy detailing!
11. GreenTuna: Old, worn carpet detailed with hairy, shedding cats.


Barbie Three-Story Dreamhouse
12. Barbie: Gourmet-style kitchen with plenty of storage comes with all the popular conveniences
12. GreenTuna: Tiny kitchen comes with little tiny storage, but that's OK, because you don't have any food anyway. Convenience is the 7-11 down the street.

Barbie Hot Tub Party Bus
13. Barbie: RV, swivel driver's chair, sofa, refrigerator, microwave, built-in sink, entertainment center, flat-screen tv.
13. GreenTuna: Pile of matches to make a great big Barbie bonfire.

Thursday Thirteen

Thirteen Things about GREENTUNA

Thirteen Ways Barbie Has It Better Than I Do

Barbie Forever Dreamhouse

1. Barbie: Mechanical washer and dryer with real spinning action
1. GreenTuna: Mechanical washer with the main control knob broken off meaning you have to break your fingers pushing it in and turning it, or go after it with a pair of pliers.

2. Barbie: A bedroom that transforms into a living room
2. GreenTuna: A bedroom that transforms into an unholy war between laundry and dust bunnies.

Oktoberfest Barbie

3. Barbie: A Kick-Ass Bier-Frau dress with a lacy petticoat, long white stockings, black felt bustier, a low-cut blouse for cleavage display and ribboned-braids.
3. GreenTuna: Three pairs of hose with runs, black Pay-Less pumps with worn-out heels, hair too short to sustain braids, cleavage.

Barbie Magical Dance Castle

4. Barbie: A bed large enough to sleep nine.
4. GreenTuna: A bed which must accommodate cats jumping, sleeping and killing each other.

5. Barbie: A table the converts into a bed for triplets.
5. GreenTuna: HA! No triplets here. I win this round.

Barbie Beach Glam Vehicle
6. Barbie: A separate vehicle. For the beach
6. GreenTuna: One rustbucket fits all.

7. Barbie: Car seats are removable and can be used as beach chairs.
7. GreenTuna: Car seats are permanent, but comes with decades of life-sustaining crumbs.


Barbie Beach Glam Pool!
8. Barbie: Pool
8. GreenTuna: Hose

9. Barbie: Gathers her friends around the pool (with slide and umbrella) for relaxation and fun!
9. GreenTuna: Hose


Barbie Fashion Fever Velvet Crush Couch

10. Barbie: Style AND Alliteration
10. GreenTuna: Chair. Lamp. Table. Not even a decent haiku.

11. Barbie: Fashionable and trendy detailing!
11. GreenTuna: Old, worn carpet detailed with hairy, shedding cats.


Barbie Three-Story Dreamhouse
12. Barbie: Gourmet-style kitchen with plenty of storage comes with all the popular conveniences
12. GreenTuna: Tiny kitchen comes with little tiny storage, but that's OK, because you don't have any food anyway. Convenience is the 7-11 down the street.

Barbie Hot Tub Party Bus
13. Barbie: RV, swivel driver's chair, sofa, refrigerator, microwave, built-in sink, entertainment center, flat-screen tv.
13. GreenTuna: Pile of matches to make a great big Barbie bonfire.

The Math Whisperer

Yesterday we established the following facts:

Fact A: There is no crying in Baseball.
Fact B: There is no slope in Music.

Today, we established one more:
Fact C: There is crying in Math, and LOTS OF IT.

Oh boy, Is there ever.

The good news is I was gifted with teacher's editions of the current math books. You know, teacher's editions that have EXAMPLES and ANSWERS worked out. I sat down for about 20 minutes and gave myself a lovely refresher course on finding slope, y-intercepts, x and y coordinates and graphing line equations. Once I had done that for myself it was on to have a one-on-one with TeenTuna.

And her miles of attitude.
And her subsequent bucket of tears.

Why?

Because I made her (yes, MADE HER) write down everything I told her. And we did it every single time for every single problem, over and over and over again because repetition is a GOOD THING when it comes to math. Writing formulas over and over reenforces what the formula is. Writing all those goofy rules helps you remember all those goofy rules. Putting a box around your answer helps you see it. Writing neatly means you don't mistake a number one for a number seven. I made her write down everything and she was LIVID.

Evidently her teachers do not ask that they show anything but the answer, which only elevates the anger she vents at her tyrannical mother, and to that I can only say, WTF? Why not? In the olden days, you were allowed to use an entire forest of paper if necessary in order to properly show your work. It was required. Don't show the work, don't get credit for the problem. And really, showing work was a good thing, because if you somehow messed up along the way, the teacher would have a prayer of following your thought process and could pinpoint exactly where you went wrong, which sometimes meant partial credit, which, YO -- that's a GOOD THING. Without showing your work, a wrong numerical answer to a math problem would be the same as writing SLOPE = SHAMPOO. Nobody will ever understand where either answer came from.

So tonight, after miles of attitude, a ten minute math-tutoring strike held by a mother who had had it with the sighing and the grumping and general bad attitude, and the subsequent bucket of tears, we resumed the task at hand. She was a little beaten down, a bit humbler, but finally ready to work. And can I just say, for the last several problems, she actually said, "No, wait. I can do this all by myself now. I know how."

EUR-FREAKING-REAKA.

That's why I do it the way I do it. And yes, even 90 minutes of 8th grade math full of tears is worth it when you hear your child say, "Let me do this. I can do it myself now because I KNOW HOW."

And when she finally crawled into bed, a half-hour late and quite tired, I gave her a hug and whispered in her ear. I told her to trust me and I would help her. I told her she worked hard. I told her no matter how confused she was or how frustrated she was, all she needed to do was relax and be polite and I'd help her until she understood. And then I told her I was proud of her.

And you know what? I think she understood.

The Math Whisperer

Yesterday we established the following facts:

Fact A: There is no crying in Baseball.
Fact B: There is no slope in Music.

Today, we established one more:
Fact C: There is crying in Math, and LOTS OF IT.

Oh boy, Is there ever.

The good news is I was gifted with teacher's editions of the current math books. You know, teacher's editions that have EXAMPLES and ANSWERS worked out. I sat down for about 20 minutes and gave myself a lovely refresher course on finding slope, y-intercepts, x and y coordinates and graphing line equations. Once I had done that for myself it was on to have a one-on-one with TeenTuna.

And her miles of attitude.
And her subsequent bucket of tears.

Why?

Because I made her (yes, MADE HER) write down everything I told her. And we did it every single time for every single problem, over and over and over again because repetition is a GOOD THING when it comes to math. Writing formulas over and over reenforces what the formula is. Writing all those goofy rules helps you remember all those goofy rules. Putting a box around your answer helps you see it. Writing neatly means you don't mistake a number one for a number seven. I made her write down everything and she was LIVID.

Evidently her teachers do not ask that they show anything but the answer, which only elevates the anger she vents at her tyrannical mother, and to that I can only say, WTF? Why not? In the olden days, you were allowed to use an entire forest of paper if necessary in order to properly show your work. It was required. Don't show the work, don't get credit for the problem. And really, showing work was a good thing, because if you somehow messed up along the way, the teacher would have a prayer of following your thought process and could pinpoint exactly where you went wrong, which sometimes meant partial credit, which, YO -- that's a GOOD THING. Without showing your work, a wrong numerical answer to a math problem would be the same as writing SLOPE = SHAMPOO. Nobody will ever understand where either answer came from.

So tonight, after miles of attitude, a ten minute math-tutoring strike held by a mother who had had it with the sighing and the grumping and general bad attitude, and the subsequent bucket of tears, we resumed the task at hand. She was a little beaten down, a bit humbler, but finally ready to work. And can I just say, for the last several problems, she actually said, "No, wait. I can do this all by myself now. I know how."

EUR-FREAKING-REAKA.

That's why I do it the way I do it. And yes, even 90 minutes of 8th grade math full of tears is worth it when you hear your child say, "Let me do this. I can do it myself now because I KNOW HOW."

And when she finally crawled into bed, a half-hour late and quite tired, I gave her a hug and whispered in her ear. I told her to trust me and I would help her. I told her she worked hard. I told her no matter how confused she was or how frustrated she was, all she needed to do was relax and be polite and I'd help her until she understood. And then I told her I was proud of her.

And you know what? I think she understood.

I May Not Survive Afterall

In the 11th-and-a-half hour of my workday I was looking through a collection of popular songs with a student. It was a large anthology called 100 Songs! and the exclamation point-riddled cover seemed full of excitement that there was a song that represented each year from 1900-1999. WOW!

I started speed reading through the table of contents, vetoing such choices as I Will Survive and Jive Talkin', and then I stumbled across a decent prospect. "OH!" I said. "Check it out!" And I start singing through "You've got a friend." I look at the student and nearly begin to gush as I tell her, "This is such a classic. You've got to LOVE Carole King! Of course you may know the James Taylor version..."



My student looks at me with a bit of a confused face and says, "No. I only know the TOY STORY version."

*blink*
*blink*
*blink*

I sigh, wipe the incredulity off my face and start shaking my head. "No, No, No," I tell her. That's not You've Got a Friend. That's You've Got a Friend IN ME."

"Oh."

Educating the masses. That's why I'm here.

I May Not Survive Afterall

In the 11th-and-a-half hour of my workday I was looking through a collection of popular songs with a student. It was a large anthology called 100 Songs! and the exclamation point-riddled cover seemed full of excitement that there was a song that represented each year from 1900-1999. WOW!

I started speed reading through the table of contents, vetoing such choices as I Will Survive and Jive Talkin', and then I stumbled across a decent prospect. "OH!" I said. "Check it out!" And I start singing through "You've got a friend." I look at the student and nearly begin to gush as I tell her, "This is such a classic. You've got to LOVE Carole King! Of course you may know the James Taylor version..."



My student looks at me with a bit of a confused face and says, "No. I only know the TOY STORY version."

*blink*
*blink*
*blink*

I sigh, wipe the incredulity off my face and start shaking my head. "No, No, No," I tell her. That's not You've Got a Friend. That's You've Got a Friend IN ME."

"Oh."

Educating the masses. That's why I'm here.

Slippery Slope

Here we go again.

Can I tell you how much I love being in 8th grade again? Can I adequately express the thrill I feel as I learn the branches of government and the periodic table? Can I put into words the tingly anticipation I feel knowing there is a book report to be written over the weekend?

I think my true feelings were best expressed as I was venting to an colleague about the current math curriculum from Hell. Not to brag, but I was good at math in the day. In middle school I was walking to the high school to take math classes and I finished all math at the end of my sophomore year.

AND YET

It took me over an hour of trolling the Internet to get a clue as to how to do the current 8th grade math assignment. Why? Because in this math pamphlet (it would be an insult to printed materials to call it a book) there are no examples. None. Zero. ZIP. There aren't even any answers in the back (oh for the glory days of odd-numbered answers) to let you try to work it backwards from solution to problem. There is nothing. This pamphlet has problems. That's it.

And as I explained to both my friend and TeenTuna's principal in an email, although I was pretty good at math way back when, the opportunity simply doesn't arise in my daily work to find the equation of a line, slope, or point intercepts AND I NEED AN EXAMPLE. Just one.

Tom Hanks said, "There's no crying in baseball!"
I would like to add, "and there is no slope in singing."

Slippery Slope

Here we go again.

Can I tell you how much I love being in 8th grade again? Can I adequately express the thrill I feel as I learn the branches of government and the periodic table? Can I put into words the tingly anticipation I feel knowing there is a book report to be written over the weekend?

I think my true feelings were best expressed as I was venting to an colleague about the current math curriculum from Hell. Not to brag, but I was good at math in the day. In middle school I was walking to the high school to take math classes and I finished all math at the end of my sophomore year.

AND YET

It took me over an hour of trolling the Internet to get a clue as to how to do the current 8th grade math assignment. Why? Because in this math pamphlet (it would be an insult to printed materials to call it a book) there are no examples. None. Zero. ZIP. There aren't even any answers in the back (oh for the glory days of odd-numbered answers) to let you try to work it backwards from solution to problem. There is nothing. This pamphlet has problems. That's it.

And as I explained to both my friend and TeenTuna's principal in an email, although I was pretty good at math way back when, the opportunity simply doesn't arise in my daily work to find the equation of a line, slope, or point intercepts AND I NEED AN EXAMPLE. Just one.

Tom Hanks said, "There's no crying in baseball!"
I would like to add, "and there is no slope in singing."

Cool Non-Nerd

I'm particularly pleased that if I'm going to be a nerd, it's going to be a History/Literature nerd and not a Sci-Fi/Comic nerd, because eh...yeah.

Cool Non-Nerd

I'm particularly pleased that if I'm going to be a nerd, it's going to be a History/Literature nerd and not a Sci-Fi/Comic nerd, because eh...yeah.

Unconscious Mutterings

I say ... And You Think:

1. Singles :: Cheese

2. Blaze :: of Glory

3. Sandwich :: Skinny Girls Should Eat One

4. Outside :: Go play

5. Gooey :: Caramel

6. Industry :: Manufacturing

7. Exclusive :: Snooty

8. Warranty :: A document guaranteeing it will break one day after expiration.

9. Magical :: Kingdom

10. Heels :: North Carolina Tar


All I can say looking over this list is I really need to get some sleep.
Or eat a sandwich.

Unconscious Mutterings

I say ... And You Think:

1. Singles :: Cheese

2. Blaze :: of Glory

3. Sandwich :: Skinny Girls Should Eat One

4. Outside :: Go play

5. Gooey :: Caramel

6. Industry :: Manufacturing

7. Exclusive :: Snooty

8. Warranty :: A document guaranteeing it will break one day after expiration.

9. Magical :: Kingdom

10. Heels :: North Carolina Tar


All I can say looking over this list is I really need to get some sleep.
Or eat a sandwich.

Sick of Sick

I consider myself very lucky that I rarely get sick. But when I do, there is a definite routine to the whole sickness game. In my world, sick doesn't mean bed and bedroom-ridden. Nope. Sick means move directly to the couch. Sick also requires the special pillow (still alive and kicking) one regular pillow and some sort of special blanket. Sadly, it is no longer THE special blanket, because I think that fell apart after several decades of use. Sick also requires the remote, the telephone (never outgoing -- always mid-day incoming how are you feeling?) a thermometer, a box of Kleenex (if necessary) and a wet washcloth, if I am feeling particularly 5-year-oldish.


Once established on the couch of sick with all necessary accouterments, the days are spent watching and sleeping through daytime TV while the sick runs its course. It's not very exciting, but then again, neither is the sick. It's just what I do to get by.


After a couple of days, though, I always feel like I've had enough. It's not because I suddenly and miraculously feel all better. Unfortunately, sick never seems to work that way. It's more like I'm tired of laying on the couch and watching horrid TV. The house feels stuffy and I feel skunky. It's also about this time that I decide that maybe I'll try to eat something. Not because I'm particularly hungry, but because you have to start somewhere, and somehow trying to eat something seems to be the thing to do.


After successfully eating a something or two, I usually decide it's time to get up and start moving again. And then, I'm faced with the aftermath of being sick. The house is a MESS. I am a MESS. There are dirty dishes in the kitchen, tissues in the living room, and a dishevelled pile of pillows and blankets. Sick is SICK, and it's right about now that I seriously consider taking to my bed so I don't have to face the detritus scattered across several rooms. Eventually, though, I have no choice, and it's time to get up, roll up my bed and walk, to quote the scriptures.


It usually takes me a little longer to clean up after the sick because I'm so tired. But it often feels good to take control of my house again. The dishes are washed and put away, the special pillow stowed for the time being, and nothing....nothing feels so good as a nice long shower. When all that is finally accomplished, even though I am still tired and weak, I know sick is on its way out the door. Good riddance. It's about time. I'm through with you.


This past Friday I spent the entire evening taking control of my house again. I started in the farthest corner of the kitchen and just started cleaning. Dishes were done. Refrigerator cleaned out. Floor swept. Cabinets and counters wiped down. I was tired, but it felt so good to gain control, inch by inch. Laundry was washed and folded and put away. The basement was returned (somewhat) to its former glory. Saturday began phase one of teenage-planned basement makeover. It's nothing too exciting at the moment, but we have two new lamps plugged into two new plugs! and a long story whose moral is: It is impossible to transport a new Papasan chair and cushion in a subcompact car unless your child is willing to wear the base of said chair around her head like a lampshade.

So, if you ask me how I'm doing right now, I'll probably say I'm OK. And sometimes it means I really am OK, and sometimes it means I'm not. But even if I feel tired and weak, what I really mean when I say I'm OK is that I'm tired of is being sick. I'm ready to get up and get moving. It's time to get up, get my house in order and take control. It's time to show sick the door. Good riddance. I'm through with you.

At least I hope I am.

Sick of Sick

I consider myself very lucky that I rarely get sick. But when I do, there is a definite routine to the whole sickness game. In my world, sick doesn't mean bed and bedroom-ridden. Nope. Sick means move directly to the couch. Sick also requires the special pillow (still alive and kicking) one regular pillow and some sort of special blanket. Sadly, it is no longer THE special blanket, because I think that fell apart after several decades of use. Sick also requires the remote, the telephone (never outgoing -- always mid-day incoming how are you feeling?) a thermometer, a box of Kleenex (if necessary) and a wet washcloth, if I am feeling particularly 5-year-oldish.


Once established on the couch of sick with all necessary accouterments, the days are spent watching and sleeping through daytime TV while the sick runs its course. It's not very exciting, but then again, neither is the sick. It's just what I do to get by.


After a couple of days, though, I always feel like I've had enough. It's not because I suddenly and miraculously feel all better. Unfortunately, sick never seems to work that way. It's more like I'm tired of laying on the couch and watching horrid TV. The house feels stuffy and I feel skunky. It's also about this time that I decide that maybe I'll try to eat something. Not because I'm particularly hungry, but because you have to start somewhere, and somehow trying to eat something seems to be the thing to do.


After successfully eating a something or two, I usually decide it's time to get up and start moving again. And then, I'm faced with the aftermath of being sick. The house is a MESS. I am a MESS. There are dirty dishes in the kitchen, tissues in the living room, and a dishevelled pile of pillows and blankets. Sick is SICK, and it's right about now that I seriously consider taking to my bed so I don't have to face the detritus scattered across several rooms. Eventually, though, I have no choice, and it's time to get up, roll up my bed and walk, to quote the scriptures.


It usually takes me a little longer to clean up after the sick because I'm so tired. But it often feels good to take control of my house again. The dishes are washed and put away, the special pillow stowed for the time being, and nothing....nothing feels so good as a nice long shower. When all that is finally accomplished, even though I am still tired and weak, I know sick is on its way out the door. Good riddance. It's about time. I'm through with you.


This past Friday I spent the entire evening taking control of my house again. I started in the farthest corner of the kitchen and just started cleaning. Dishes were done. Refrigerator cleaned out. Floor swept. Cabinets and counters wiped down. I was tired, but it felt so good to gain control, inch by inch. Laundry was washed and folded and put away. The basement was returned (somewhat) to its former glory. Saturday began phase one of teenage-planned basement makeover. It's nothing too exciting at the moment, but we have two new lamps plugged into two new plugs! and a long story whose moral is: It is impossible to transport a new Papasan chair and cushion in a subcompact car unless your child is willing to wear the base of said chair around her head like a lampshade.

So, if you ask me how I'm doing right now, I'll probably say I'm OK. And sometimes it means I really am OK, and sometimes it means I'm not. But even if I feel tired and weak, what I really mean when I say I'm OK is that I'm tired of is being sick. I'm ready to get up and get moving. It's time to get up, get my house in order and take control. It's time to show sick the door. Good riddance. I'm through with you.

At least I hope I am.

Thursday Thirteen

Thirteen Things about GREENTUNA

Thirteen Cross Stitch Projects I Will NOT Be Undertaking
Any Time Soon Ever



1. "Miracle" (Horses)
First of all, this picture must use 27 shades of white, gray and brown. That's not enjoyment. That's an aneurysm on 32-count linen. Secondly, despite the fact that they have called this gem "Miracle" I'm not sure where the Miracle actually is. When you have a picture of Siamese Horse Heads, shouldn't it be entitled "Freak of Nature?" Sorry, I'll pass on this one. But if someone comes up with a cross stitch picture for a three-eyed fish, I'd be all for it.



2. "Lucky in Bloom"

An unoffensive flower in bold primary colors isn't bad. But cross-stitching "Lucky's cat's butt popping out of the top? Thanks, but no.

3. "Moose Be Born to Ride"

Now, I understand that lots of people take up crafting for lots of reasons. I also understand that lots of people have a wide variety of interests. But I'm thinking the demographics of people obsessed with both motorcycles and Mooses (mooses? moose? Bullwinkles?) has to be pretty narrow. And where would you hang this finished project? The Elk Club?

4. "Beneath Shining Stars"

The problem here isn't the picture. It's fine, if not overly simple (which can be a good thing when you need Christmas gifts PRONTO). What kills me here are the buttons. If I'm not entirely mistaken, the Joseph button on the left is the spitting image of Cartman, and I would never be able to look at this picture without cracking up and singing the South Park version of "Oh Holy Night.

5. "Mend"

Here's an annoying picture that they try to pretty up with some cute bunnies and flowers. Why do I need to spend a couple hours of my time on a pillow that is bugging me to do chores? What do you bet there are several pillows in this series, including "IRON" and "DO SOME DISHES BECAUSE YOU'RE OUT OF FORKS AGAIN." Thanks, I'll pass.

6. "Hang Ten"

Nice try, but I see how you are. It doesn't matter if you dress it up with palm trees, waves, sand and a surfboard, this is still LAUNDRY. I'm not falling for your crafty tricks.

7. "Of Female Arts"

Yeah, because all we can do is sew. I'll just let this ditty speak for itself with my implied Burma-Shave-esque coda: "Bite me."

Of female arts in usefulness
The needle far exceeds the rest
In ornament there's no device
Affords adorning half so nice.




8. "Road Trip"

Ah yes, another winner as we sew a picture of a car pulling a camper. Alas, the weary travelers are lost because the only road they were given goes around in circles. I bet they get really angry every time they reach that button in the middle of Crack Avenue and the dad refuses to ask for directions. Good times.

9. "Summer Maggie Butts"

First of all, I don't get the title at all. Summer, yes. But If Maggie has a butt at all, she must have left it at home. In fact, it's a freak of nature that the turtle floaty device is able to stay on her body when she has no discernible hips. Be that as it may, "Maggie" must be a nickname for "Medusa" because woah, she's got some snake hair going on. And why does she look so demoniacally happy as attacks that poor mouse with pepper spray?

10. "Galatea"Now, TeenTuna would love this picture. In fact, I think she saw it and she did love it, because it's very mermaidy, oceany, pinky pretty. And on general principals, I don't really have anything against mermaids. Except this one. This mermaid has the most defined butt-cleavage I've ever seen. How many butt presses does she do a day to achieve such form outlined in dark blue. Sorry, even if you are a mythical creature, if your butt looks better than mine, this picture is out.



11. "Peaceful Paradise"
When I was grabbing these pictures, I named this one "wholebunchawords" because seriously, what does it say? Who knows. It might be the entire old testament. It might be a recipe for Tree of Knowledge Pie. It might be directions to button land for that camper above. Whatever it is, it's too much and it's totally illegible. I'm not really up to cross-stitching a novel.



"Mehitable Frisbee"Ahh, the traditional death picture. Honestly, looking at some of the samplers from the mid-1800's it's a wonder anybody ever got out of bed, because all that was going to happen was that they were going to die. Many samplers admonished the viewer to "remember me" or "think upon me when upon this cloth you see" in a very YOU'RE NEXT kind of way. I've never seen a sampler go quite to this extreme, however, what with all the discussion of worms and such. Then again, if my name was "Mehitable Frisbee" I might not mind being a worm sandwich sooner rather than later.


Taco SamplerI've said it before and I'll say it again. The day I start cross-stitching tacos is the day I need to find a better hobby.

Thursday Thirteen

Thirteen Things about GREENTUNA

Thirteen Cross Stitch Projects I Will NOT Be Undertaking
Any Time Soon Ever



1. "Miracle" (Horses)
First of all, this picture must use 27 shades of white, gray and brown. That's not enjoyment. That's an aneurysm on 32-count linen. Secondly, despite the fact that they have called this gem "Miracle" I'm not sure where the Miracle actually is. When you have a picture of Siamese Horse Heads, shouldn't it be entitled "Freak of Nature?" Sorry, I'll pass on this one. But if someone comes up with a cross stitch picture for a three-eyed fish, I'd be all for it.



2. "Lucky in Bloom"

An unoffensive flower in bold primary colors isn't bad. But cross-stitching "Lucky's cat's butt popping out of the top? Thanks, but no.

3. "Moose Be Born to Ride"

Now, I understand that lots of people take up crafting for lots of reasons. I also understand that lots of people have a wide variety of interests. But I'm thinking the demographics of people obsessed with both motorcycles and Mooses (mooses? moose? Bullwinkles?) has to be pretty narrow. And where would you hang this finished project? The Elk Club?

4. "Beneath Shining Stars"

The problem here isn't the picture. It's fine, if not overly simple (which can be a good thing when you need Christmas gifts PRONTO). What kills me here are the buttons. If I'm not entirely mistaken, the Joseph button on the left is the spitting image of Cartman, and I would never be able to look at this picture without cracking up and singing the South Park version of "Oh Holy Night.

5. "Mend"

Here's an annoying picture that they try to pretty up with some cute bunnies and flowers. Why do I need to spend a couple hours of my time on a pillow that is bugging me to do chores? What do you bet there are several pillows in this series, including "IRON" and "DO SOME DISHES BECAUSE YOU'RE OUT OF FORKS AGAIN." Thanks, I'll pass.

6. "Hang Ten"

Nice try, but I see how you are. It doesn't matter if you dress it up with palm trees, waves, sand and a surfboard, this is still LAUNDRY. I'm not falling for your crafty tricks.

7. "Of Female Arts"

Yeah, because all we can do is sew. I'll just let this ditty speak for itself with my implied Burma-Shave-esque coda: "Bite me."

Of female arts in usefulness
The needle far exceeds the rest
In ornament there's no device
Affords adorning half so nice.




8. "Road Trip"

Ah yes, another winner as we sew a picture of a car pulling a camper. Alas, the weary travelers are lost because the only road they were given goes around in circles. I bet they get really angry every time they reach that button in the middle of Crack Avenue and the dad refuses to ask for directions. Good times.

9. "Summer Maggie Butts"

First of all, I don't get the title at all. Summer, yes. But If Maggie has a butt at all, she must have left it at home. In fact, it's a freak of nature that the turtle floaty device is able to stay on her body when she has no discernible hips. Be that as it may, "Maggie" must be a nickname for "Medusa" because woah, she's got some snake hair going on. And why does she look so demoniacally happy as attacks that poor mouse with pepper spray?

10. "Galatea"Now, TeenTuna would love this picture. In fact, I think she saw it and she did love it, because it's very mermaidy, oceany, pinky pretty. And on general principals, I don't really have anything against mermaids. Except this one. This mermaid has the most defined butt-cleavage I've ever seen. How many butt presses does she do a day to achieve such form outlined in dark blue. Sorry, even if you are a mythical creature, if your butt looks better than mine, this picture is out.



11. "Peaceful Paradise"
When I was grabbing these pictures, I named this one "wholebunchawords" because seriously, what does it say? Who knows. It might be the entire old testament. It might be a recipe for Tree of Knowledge Pie. It might be directions to button land for that camper above. Whatever it is, it's too much and it's totally illegible. I'm not really up to cross-stitching a novel.



"Mehitable Frisbee"Ahh, the traditional death picture. Honestly, looking at some of the samplers from the mid-1800's it's a wonder anybody ever got out of bed, because all that was going to happen was that they were going to die. Many samplers admonished the viewer to "remember me" or "think upon me when upon this cloth you see" in a very YOU'RE NEXT kind of way. I've never seen a sampler go quite to this extreme, however, what with all the discussion of worms and such. Then again, if my name was "Mehitable Frisbee" I might not mind being a worm sandwich sooner rather than later.


Taco SamplerI've said it before and I'll say it again. The day I start cross-stitching tacos is the day I need to find a better hobby.