*waddle waddle…peeeers around corner*

Quack quack! The coast is clear.

Ms. Mouse has been sooo delinquent in her entries that I thought I would take matters into my own feet. (You should really try webbed feet, they make swimming much much easier.)
harlot.jpg

She has been hiding this from you! Look at the progress from the last picture. Just look. She doesn’t think it is interesting enough to post? Well, I do. After all, this is sort of a knitting blog, yes? That’s what I thought, anyway. And I, Emily the Yarn Duck, why I am the mascot!! Well, I am feeling neglected.

Oh, it’s not so bad. There is plenty of yarn around to mind, and mind it I do. I have to keep those ends nice and neat. Sometimes it fights and gets into a tangle. Then of course, she goes tearing through in a rush, pulling things out left and right in a haphazard manner, then just shoves them back in again. My work is so underappreciated.

So here I am. And you know what? This is not the only thing.

peacock1.jpg

Okay, I haven’t quite mastered the use of the camera completely. I set it on the couch on the timed setting, and it gets a little wobbly. But do you see my point? Tons of progress. Those are little needles she’s working with on that one.

Oh, and this was the last straw.

mystery.jpg

She came home with those today. She didn’t even tell me first. I quacked at her angrily, ruffling my feathers and scolding until she explained.

Those are the beginnings of a sweater. She just bought a lonely two balls, one in each color, for the purpose of swatching. The others are sitting in a bag at Flying Sheep. (She knows how I hate it when she splits the yarn up! No respect. Honestly.) I’ll nag her a little bit, and maybe I can get her to post a sketch.

The brown yarn is the discontinued Rowan Yorkshire Tweed 4ply. It is very very nice yarn. I do not know why they discontinued it.

Oh! Must rush. She is coming back! See, I had the chance because she was listening to music. She was slumped over with her eyes closed, and I swear that he brains had all leaked out in a gloomy little puddle. I quacked racously in her ear for a while, but she just sighed and turned her head.

I’ll leave you with this, a not quite poem that she had to write for class fall quarter. She doesn’t like it, but I do. The first instruction was to write a five line life story from the perpective of a myterious object. She chose “duck”. They only had two minutes for the first part, and thirty seconds for the second.

(1) The duck cloth, of an apron, a jumper, a blanket? Ducks in the tub.

(2) Ducks in the pond. Quack quack! I want to touch their ruffled feathers. We shan’t eat ducks for christmas dinner.

(3) Teasing pre-teens cackle, and I quack softly. Ducks in the courtyard.

(4) Remember the ducks?! Purple, pink, four ducks on a string. Rolling on wheels.

(5) Where are all the ducks? In my mouth. Pronouncing “ducks”. It clicks and rolls and satisfies my mouth.

Then she had to give a piece of mysterious advice by that object.

Waddle waddle, quack, snap! Entice life with webbed feet.

Then, my favorite part. After she read it they called her a duck! She’s going to kill me for this…

One Response to “*waddle waddle…peeeers around corner*”

  1. schaff Says:

    hey mouse and duck…
    i had a brilliant idea.

    what if… you took the giant black beastie to ambrosia for one afternoon, and in that calming and friendly atmosphere…

    seamed it?

    for a pressie?

    for me?

    i promise i will even try it on when i get home… on the 16th. and i will buy you a drink (of the ambrosia sort. no more “wodka” for this little sheep, ick).

    please, please please?

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