I'm your huckleberry.

It could be the last sunny weekend of the year, and I came down with a heinous cold. What's worse, is that I was supposed to be camping out amongst the pines of the cascades, sipping tea, knitting and gazing across a pristine high-altitude lake with the grand reflection of Mt. Hood hanging impossibly close beyond.

Damn.

Perhaps it has been a hidden blessing, what with me sitting at home, relaxing (which is something that I find extremely difficult).

I am not a reader. This has become recently quite clear to me- especially now that I am co-habitating with someone who has an in-exhaustible huger for words, both fiction and non. I do envy this hunger, but always find that reading is a very passive activity, one which I choose once all other, more active, options have been ruled out (of which there are many).

However, when one is sick, and ones body shouldn't be eating sugar or dairy (which rules out baking), one shouldn't be out running about (which renders one housebound), and one is resolved to moping on either the couch or bed (both of which are ideal for reading).
The fact is that I have two excellent books on my night table (and more on my list that Nic has been making in his head and which is apparent by every time we go to Powells he suggests yet Another book. It's really quite sweet).

Thankfully, he left me and went camping. Thankfully for his sake. I am a miserable, miserable sick person who believes that life is ending and she cannot think of a worse fate than spending a weekend feeling like her sinuses will explode and only being able to breath through her mouth. Yep, just a common cold. No puking or aching hair follicles (flu) or bleeding out of orifices (Ebola). Nope could have been worse.
So, the end of this part of the story is that I was alone in my house all weekend and read some. I also knit and attempted to embroider another dish towel, but the stripes of the cloth and the poor quality of the iron-on transfer prevented me from doing so. But socks- I'm making progress (I'm crafty!).

I've also been netti-potting like crazy. It's satisfying in that somewhat disgusting way, similar to cleaning your ears, or your dogs' ears.

But now to the subject of this post. My dear friend Audrey offered to come over and bring Tombstone. I mentioned that I had a frozen pizza in the freezer, but that, alas, it was an Amy's frozen pizza, and not a Tombstone frozen pizza. Both the movie and the pizza were fantastic. The mean mustache that Kurt Russel brings to the screen was really no match for Val Kilmer's delicately waxed 'stache, southern wit and sensibility and unappealing pallor from TB that he wears throughout the movie. Definitely check it out (again, if applicable).

Lastly, and in tangential news, M4K PDX is in preliminary planning stages. Another one of my dear friends, Chrissy, and I organized Portland's chapter of Mustaches for Kids last year, and we're back for another round of fun shenanigans in mustachery. Check out out progress at http://m4kpdx.blogspot.com.

I think I'm going to go read now. Or knit. Or embroider.