Today I took a break from my usual Sherilyn Kenyon Dark Hunter Series and started reading Crazy Aunt Purl's Drunk Divorced and Covered in Cat Hair, by Laurie Perry. There's a paragraph in the Introduction that I found rather humorous,
"Besides as a knitter, you are armed at all times with two very sharo sticks, some sturdy string, and well-concealed sissors.
And that's a very comforting thing."
These days though it is not such a good idea at times for me I think. I'm a crocheter more than a knitter but the premise is the same and these days I have two to three teen age boys around the house more often than not. Trying to write songs to become a band. So between the Gears of War blasting and blood spooging and the laughing and yelling at whatever is on the current game of choice; there is the constant and never ending twinging of guitar strings. Pieces of songs, parts of pieces played over and over, and over, and over... well you get the idea. It's like chinese water torture. Entire weekends of pieces of songs, twang twang of the same five notes over and over and over until you're ready to rip your fingernails out after your hair and shove sharp things in your ears to stop the noise.
Some might have said that it would behove me to tell them to stop, but they are writing songs, they are creating their own place in the world. They are not out on the street, doing drugs, causing trouble for others. OMG they just brought out more guitars. I'll write more later after I stop being a blithering idiot in the corner of my bedroom closet for a while.
My friend's son plays drums.... How does she do it!
