The funneh is missing in action at chez yarn.
At least we have yarn, though. I bought some new-to-me yarn from a couple of Ravelers last week: Bugga.
The dusty coloring reminds me of Dream in Color's yarn. In fact, the top skein, Orchid Mantis, is near identical to a skein I have of Smooshy in the Butter Peeps colorway.
The Bugga, being 20% cashmere, is deadly soft. It is going to make some fabulous scarves.
So where the heck is the funneh? Well, a weekful of documentaries on American industry, and my continued ignorance of the BP situation, have been leaching all of my joy. I'm back to morose seriousness as I come to terms with some conflicting beliefs.
The theme this month can be summed up in dialogue from Cold Mountain (the movie, I never read the book). Renee Zellweger's character, Ruby, is up to her eyeballs in the hellhole of a life of a woman in a rural mountain town during the Civil War:
"They call this war a cloud over the land. But they made the weather and then they stand in the rain and say 'Shit, it's raining!'"
In regard to the laughable, cynical, partisan outrage at the gulf oil disaster, the cold rationalist in me falls back on the indefatigable belief that one reaps what one sows.
We are at the limits of man's engineering abilities. Humanity is failing; not BP, not Obama, not our government. All governments and all private corporations fail given enough time and opportunity. It is a given, as they are human institutions. Redundancy.
When you play with the big guns, you have to be prepared for the great benefits you sow, such as the marvel of our modern American life, as well as be able to acknowledge our culpability when a monumental failure greets us. We tapped the oil, without the ability to cap the torrent, so who the fuck are we to complain about the uncontrollable oil slick raining down on us?