Quiet on the homefront the last couple of days because I've been sick. I'm highly put out by it too, since I was just getting settled into my regime of running and better diet, and feeling all healthy and active for the first time in about two years. Then, enter illness.
Worst of all, I think Elizabeth is now getting sick, too. Elizabeth has a strong constitution, though, and is so far thwarting sickness.
Anyway, for today will be some bits of random observation. Over the weekend, I'll be back-posting Part II and III of the MPAA article for the past Wednesday and Thursday. If you've got the feed, they'll show up, or you can just jump over to the archives Monday and catch up. Or not. Whatever course the stars tell you to take.
I'll also catch up on That's Logic, and hopefully launch a new project blog, one that tries much harder to take a stab at legitimacy than this one does. I'm using WordPress for it, and going through the wonderful, hair-pulling process that is creating my own custom theme. I may give up at any point and resort to Textpattern. Which, oddly enough, is easier to customize for me.
The Saga of My New Favorite Skirt
My energy level and powers of concentration are right about where they would have to be to think composing a tale about an article of clothing is a good idea. So here it is.
Well over a year ago, almost two, I purchased a lovely, calf-length skirt from Gadzooks. (I also bought a cute black shrug that I'm pretty sure the ditz who used to live across the hall from me back in my old apartment building stole from the dryer, but that's neither here nor there. Bitch.) Anyway, this skirt was in that hippie-ish style that was in a couple of seasons ago, which was perfect for me since a) I rarely concern myself with being in current style, and b) it was on clearance. It was also an extra-small and a gorgeous shade of bright turquoise, my favorite color. Very much like this.
So I got it, and took it home. Where I then discovered that the ditz at the store (my status as young woman necessitates much exposure to ditzes, which annoys me) had forgotten to take the security tag off of the skirt. Obviously, their in-store security system is foolproof, considering no alarm went off when I left the store. The tag was one of those super-deadly ink ones, which promises to explode immediately if meddled with and douse said meddler with damning pigment. I determined to take it back the store and have it removed safely.
Which would have worked out fine if this hadn't been shortly after I had given birth. Raising an infant doesn't leave too much time for shopping trips, and I never made it back to the store. The skirt, sadly, ended up at the bottom of a box somewhere, alone and overlooked.
Until recently, when I discovered it while unpacking in my new place. Just in time for spring, a new fabulously-colored skirt! Except it still had the ink tag. And the fact that I had bought it in a store two hours north of my current location didn't matter as much as the fact that the store had since completely gone out of business, ink-tag-removers and all.
So I'm left with the MacGuyver route and trying to jimmy the ink tag into submission on my own. (Or making someone else do it for me, which was just as effective and much easier.) After much internet research, debating on proper techniques, a few paper towels and a couple of hours, the ink was drained and the tag safely popped off. A tiny, imperceptible tear and a minuscule smear of ink remains, but I think it gives the skirt character. I wore it last Tuesday for the first time, to much acclaim. Okay, to a couple of offhand compliments. I like it, anyway.
Morals of the story: 1) Pay attention to ditzes who may not remove ink tags on your clothing; 2) If you have a problem, chances are someone on the internet has not only had it too, but also blogged about it. With pictures.
I guess those aren't really morals. But it's a story about a skirt. What do you expect?