Monday, January 07, 2008

that would be mean, even for me

Riding the bus to campus and home again can be kind of dull. Not so much this morning where I saw a man walking down the street holding with one hand a large blanket pulled over his head and draping down his back like a superhero cape and with the other hand holding one shoe. It is a very odd thing to see a man with one foot unshod first thing in the morning when the temperature (before wind chill) was minus 2 degrees celsius.

On the way home, I was bord. There was no interesting/crazy man walking down the street to take my mind off things, so instead, I tried to think of what to get Jenshine for her Birthday. I am thinking that I would like to make her something, but I don't know what I should make. What is it that she needs? Well, I thought to myself, she likes to play tennis. Maybe I should get her something to do with that. I could, and this is where things begin to get silly, make her a racket cozy/bag; because, every racket needs a cozy/bag. Then a woman got on the bus and sat down a few rows in front of me. She was wearing the most daring crochet hat. Parts of it were brown, parts blue, there was some sort of white design on the front, and most strikingly, there was a giant handle sticking out one side, just like a tea pot, only bigger. I looked (maybe even stared) at this hat and began to think crazy thoughts. What if I make Jen a bag for her tennis racket out of all my stash yarn. It would be felted with a big round handle on one side and a strap for when she wanted to carry it over her shoulder. It would be done in some sort of college with a tennis ball and net on one side in all sorts of funky colours and the occasional bit of neon pink fuzzy yarn. Everything would clash. Jenshine would hate me forever!

It was that last thought that made me realize, maybe it's not such a good idea. I can imagine my extremely good friend opening her birthday present, all expectant and excited at receiving something so nicely wrapped, her facial expression turning to horror at the overwhelming display of clashing colours and eventually captivating an expression of pure terror when she realizes what it was and how much effort was put into making something so incredibly ugly.

I wouldn't do that to her. I just couldn't. (well, I could, then act hurt every time she didn't use it, but that would be mean, even for me)



In other news, I want to spend my summer vacation here.

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