As most of you know, I HATE summer with a passion unless I have a huge pool in which to lounge, swim, lounge, swim, tan, smoke, have a few drinky-poos, swim, and finally crawl out of when the sun goes down. While it's true that we have the puddle here, it's just not the same. I can't seem to swim in a straight line without whacking my face into the wall. It's also not very deep - something which goes against my self-imposed pool rules. It got so damned hot last week, though, that I finally had to go in. For some reason, the pool people didn't do their job right, and the thing was a lovely shade of light green. I didn't care, though. I had reached my heat limit. So in I went and, to my surprise, encountered warm water. That was a huge plus.
I told Hubster that should I go in the water before autumn came, I wanted to see if Emma would swim. Since bullies aren't known for their swimming ability, I was going to hold her under her tummy and sort of cruise her around the shallow end. She was certainly excited about the whole thing, running around the edge, peering in the pool, barking, and running around in circles. So Hubster picked her up, handed her down, and I grabbed her around the middle just in time. Those stubby little legs and enormous paws were churning up a storm almost before I could get a good grip on her. It was hilarious. I could feel her sinking a bit, but she didn't seem to care. Her head was held high, water was splashing all over the place, and her tongue was sticking out. In short, she had a ball and ran around wet in order to stay cool. It worked like a charm.
Just so you get some sort of idea of what my old pool looked like, I offer this photo. Bear in mind that it's tucked in the corner of the yard (which was an acre), it's winter and raining like a bitch, the huge sky is dark in the middle of the day, the wind is whipping up waves, and it's an all-around lousy picture. But it's one of the few I have of my beloved watering hole, so I cherish it. You're only looking at half the width of the thing - it held close to 60,000 gallons. Yep. Big.
Yes, that's all water behind our fence. We were told that was a "greenbelt". It turns out that it was a flood plain. I loved it - watching the water get higher, the water birds coming in for the night, the eagles and hawks sitting in the huge oak tree... everything. I got in an argument with Hubster last night, began crying, and sobbed that I wanted to go home. Sigh. Some things don't get better with the passage of time.
Anyway, the puddle episode here went extremely well, and we're supposed to have another heat wave this week. It looks like we might have Indian Summer this year, which is NOT what the state (or I) need. It's just been an all-around shitty summer. I'll be absolutely delighted if it pours all winter long.
The CD process is coming along well. Hubster and I compiled a list of notes on the two discs for Mac to peruse. I'm not sure what he does after this - I think Don (the sound dude) will then either correct the problems or get rid of the tracks (or parts of them) altogether, but we certainly have enough material to fill up a commercial CD. We're under a huge time crunch, so the faster we could get these notes to Mac, the better. I'm sure it won't be the last time we speak about it - there's still a lot to do. It would be terrible if I have to drive down there before the concert to attend to some business. You know... like laying in the hammock with a cold one. Following are some more cabin pictures, but these are of the residents who were bold enough to come up on the porch while I sat there smoking.
Here come the two weary warriors after a day of shopping and merrymaking.
The squirrel who took to waiting for me in the morning for his peanuts. He was hilarious - he beat on the railing with his little front paws as if he were banging on a drum and scolded me loudly if I was late.
The same squirrel, who had become a ham and wasn't afraid of the camera.
Mr. Squirrel's friend, Mr. Chipmunk - also not afraid of us or the camera.
This is obviously Mrs. Squirrel.
One of the squirrel family on the last day of our stay, finally realizing that I had the peanuts and wasn't going to hurt him/her.
Squirrel Jr. running away with the coveted peanut I threw to him.
The hammock I fell asleep in (and out of).
One last shot of Emma enjoying herself on the couch with two of her stuffies.
That should do it for my vacation photos. I promise not to bore you until I get home from the concert at the end of October.
I've been on a knitting frenzy for the past week, working on a new pair of socks (with a new pattern, even). The yarn is "Toasty" by numma numma in "Whiny Butt" (I didn't name it); the pattern is "Which Way Socks" by Wildhorse Farms. For some reason, I love their patterns and have made several of them. Maybe this time, I'll remember to take a picture of the finished pair before they disappear. It's a simple pattern, easy to follow, easy to memorize (even for me), and the yarn isn't so variegated that it hides the stitch pattern. I'm into texture lately - not cables, but stitch definition and complicated (or simple) combinations. Unfortunately, patterns like that call for tonal yarns, of which I have precious few. That means I have to go shopping. Oh crap. (snort)
So this week, my mother is having surgery to fix some prolapsed female parts, I have to go to the dentist, I'm having lunch with a dear friend whom I haven't seen in a while, I have to do something about the mess in this house, and I'll be working on the shop. I'm hoping that once Labor Day is history, all the knitters will hunker down and begin their annual knitting season. I hope.
Otherwise, I'm going back to visit the squirrels and chipmunks.