Sweet, sweet FREEDOM!!!

The Unity socks are officially history! The last ends of the last socks were woven in in the last moments of last night! They. Are. Done. Also, I learned that the sample knitting I did for Chrissy arrived safe and sound, so that's another load off my mind.

So, what to do next? Do I...
A) Break in my new "spinny thingy" and ball up some of the hanks I have lying around?
(see how the yarn just throws itself at this thing? Not so with my old swift!)

The old swift was fully adjustable, mind you, just a little inconvenient at times.

B) Finish up Tater's Cotton Cardi for DD#1 so I can cast on for DD#2?

C) Knit up the last sleeve and the neck for Zigzag so I can give my mom the leftover yarn when I see her in 3 weeks?

D) Tell another totally non-knitting related story in the vein of the dead vulture?

Feel free to voice your opinion, but you're getting D) right now!

I did my student teaching at a city school in south Minneapolis. I was placed in a first grade classroom under the mentorship of a wonderful woman who I dearly miss. We had 19 students. Six of them spoke English as their first language. The rest of the kids were first generation immigrants from Mexico and South America with varying degrees of English fluency.

One day, while the kids were working at their tables, a commotion arose among several of the Latino kids. I went over to see what was going on. The exchange went as follows:

Me: What's wrong?
Child #1: Him say to her "Fire Hair!"
Me (puzzled): What?
Child #2(conspiratorially): Fire Hair...
Me: Is that a bad thing?
Child #2: You know fire?
Me: Yes...
Child #2: You know hair?
Me: Yes...
At this point, all the children present gave me the "so, you know what I'm talking about, this is really serious!" look and slowly nodded their heads.

I admit I was baffled. Fire hair? The child in question did not have red hair. What on Earth could that mean? I sternly told the offender never to say that again, though I had no idea what exactly that was, as none of the children would repeat the words in Spanish for me.

Time passed, and the incident remained a bit of a, "Hmmm... what could that have meant?" puzzler for me. Until one evening when the DH was watching RollerGirls on A&E (don't ask!) and I was taken aback by one of the team names "Las Putas del Fuego" I gasped, the angels sang for a brief moment and then I became horribly embarrassed. Puta del Fuego. Fire Whore! What must those poor children have thought of me.

"He called her a flaming whore."
"Is that a bad thing?"

Indeed, Lisa. It is a bad thing. But a funny story nonetheless.