All right, so I am sitting here, contemplating the names Muggles give to knitting stitch patterns and how they , excuse me, ladies, screw them up so royally all the time. Like how they call "Eye of the Phoenix" stitch "Eye of the Partridge" and how they can't seem to decide when a cable stops being an ear of wheat and becomes stag's horns, not even in the big three volume set I am having to use because Sadie Snidewhoppet's Slytherly Stitch Stash is out of the Library again. Which also reminds me that it is absolutely pathetic to be a grown woman writing books and referring back to your school house. I mean, really, has NOTHING happened to her since graduation?
My aunt and my mother are pathetic in this way and it always makes me cringe. What the heck is an SAT and why on earth do they think anyone cares what they got on theirs back before Voldemort disappeared the first time? I mean, gosh, I think my dad still had his NOSE. How much further back can you go before the Muggles were pressing their test results into clay tablets with little cuneiform sticks?
Anyway, I am fueled in all of this brilliant analysis by peeps, which are a delicious thing made out of marshmallow and finely granulated, dyed sugar, and produced, in this case, in the shape of little chicks. Well, sort of. I think you have to know they are chicks before they look like chicks. My Grandma sends them to me from the US cause we don't have them here. I have a mutilated one floating in my hot cocoa right now. I got the idea from a book I saw in a craft store about how to cook with peeps, and if it had been a reasonable price I would have gotten it, but I thought that almost thirteen dollars was a lot to pay for a book that showed you how to float peeps in hot cocoa...or espresso...and thought these were two different recipes...
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