It was my birthday this week. As I get older, my birthday starts to become less and less exciting. I'm now officially on the downslope to being 40 - I just turned 35. Turning 30 was much more fun than turning 35. Turning 30 was like, "woo, I'm a real adult now!". Turning 35 is like "oh shit, I'm gonna be 40!".
However, I managed not to dwell on that too much. I enjoyed a nice night with my knit group, and when I returned home afterwards, I found my husband had assembled a great big pile of gifts for me. The first gift was a new brown summery purse, which I'd been fruitlessly shopping for on and off throughout most of the summer. Since it's the end of August now I won't switch to it immediately, but come springtime I'll be using it with glee. Inside the purse was some weird mystery yarn he bought at the market in Spain. It has a label on it, but the label doesn't discuss the fibre content, the weight of the ball, or the number of metres of yarn in the ball. It does, however, tell you how many balls you'd need to make a sweater. Um, OK. Doesn't that kinda depend on the sweater? So it's probably acrylic, and it seems to be somewhere around DK weight. I'll investigate further before I actually start knitting anything with it.
Then there were some books.
1) Favorite Socks: 25 Timeless Designs from Interweave - This sock book looks fantastic, and it has a spiral binding so it'll stay open easily while working from it. Does he have good taste or what? He picked it out all by himself.
2) Invisible Monsters by Chuck Palahniuk - I really enjoy his books. I've written and rewritten a second sentence here trying to describe his books in a nutshell, and I can't do it. So I won't even try. This book was on my wishlist.
And the third book was the icing on the cake. The most shocking gift I've received in years (after the strange artsy glued-together book with a French poem on it we got as a wedding gift). See, when I was a kid, I read a lot. Jaws was actually my favourite book as a child. I read it about once a week, I feel like. I know it wasn't really THAT often, but I've probably read it at least 20 times. But Jaws didn't really scare me. The scariest book I've ever read was The Mystery of the Glowing Eye, which was a Nancy Drew book. In fact, it scared me so much that as soon as I read the scary part, I had to put the book down, and I never picked it up again. I still don't know how it ends. All these years later, I'd forgotten even the name of the book, but I guess I mentioned to Kenneth how much it scared me, and I must have mentioned that there was a glowing eye. He managed to track it down, and bought it for me. And I have to admit, when I saw that glowing eye staring up at me from the cover, I felt a little frisson of fear in my stomach. I'm kind of afraid to read it again. I'm sure nowadays, it won't scare me, but still... what if it does? I don't want the glowing eye to get me!
See, even the cover is scary: