Time to Post!

I've really got to get my shit together.

Days pass and nothing gets done. No posts, no knitting progress, nothing. I've decided that I'm tired of being in a funk and have kicked myself in the ass. I don't know how much good it will do, but at least I'm giving it the old college try.

Oh wait... all I did in college was get knocked up. Scratch that.

I'm giving it the old uh... uh... hm. I'm trying.

I've got a bit of news for you all. The shop is finally opening! Come this Wednesday, June 17th, we'll be back in operation. It's been a long time, I know, but what with everything going on, it's been very difficult to get any work done on it. However, I'm going to be putting the finishing touches on it Tuesday, so look for it to be open Wednesday afternoon (in case I don't get all the little things done on Tuesday night). I'm having a 15% off sale on everything through Sunday, so come and see the new artists, the new merchandise, and go shopping! Please... I need the money. :)

I want to thank everyone for the comments they left about my condition. You don't know what those meant to me. I'm always amazed at the number of people who read this blog, and even more amazed at the number of friends I have and all the people who care. That's why I continue to barf out my life here - I'm talking to my friends. I see the doc tomorrow, but it's for pain management. At this stage of the game, there's nothing that can be done other than to manage the pain. I don't know if he'll put me on anything different, up my current meds, or what. As long as he doesn't stick that fucking needle in my back again, we're square. (shudder)

On a more humorous note, it's happened again.

RIINNNGGGGG RIINNNGGGG RIINNNGGGG

"Hello?"

"Hi! This is Adele! How do I pick up a stitch that I dropped six rows down? You know, it's the pattern with all the YO's and K2tog's and SSK's. I think it's on the section where the pattern begins to change and you start doing a lot of increases and decreases and picking up stitches and it looks like basketweave and..."

"Uh... I'm sorry, but this is WHO?"

"Adele! I'm the one with the long blond hair, kind of pudgy, I drive an SUV..."

"Uh... OK... uh... I'm sorry, but I really don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I'm sure you teach a lot of classes, so maybe you don't remember where I was on that particular project. I'm on Row 37 and ready to change to color 10."

"What class did you say this was?"

"Lace entrelac. So I tried pulling the needle out, and a bunch of the little basketweave parts fell out and the lace unraveled and I can't get them back on the needle and I cut all the yarn on each piece so I only have little pieces of yarn to work with and should I use a smaller needle?"

(my head is spinning and my eyes are beginning to blink rapidly)

"Uh.... how did you get my phone number? It's unlisted."

"Oh, I got it from another lady in the class, you know, the fat one with black hair. She's a lot farther along than me. So when I ..."

"I don't mean to cut you off, but I haven't taught that class for two years, I don't know who you are, I have no idea what pattern I taught, and I'm afraid I can't help you."

"What sort of lousy teacher are you? I paid a lot of money for that class and you said I could call you at any time and you'd help me and I need help and you have to help me because you said you would. So like I said, I think I'm on Row 37... no, maybe it's Row 47..."

"I'm sorry, but I have another call coming in. I can't help you. My advice is to throw it away, start it over, and pay attention to what you're doing."

"You're a rude bitch and I'm never taking another class from you again." CLICK.

Geez. Anybody who can't count shouldn't undertake a project like that. Whatever it was.

Then another call did come in.

RIINNNGGGG RIINNNGGGG RIINNNGGGG

"Hello?"

"Hey pretty lady, this is Fantastic Frank. How you been, doll face?"

"Uh... who are you trying to reach?"

"The Java Lounge! You're just playing games with old Frank again. Hey, I need to reserve five tables for tonight. We're in a bowling tournament down in Hemet, and we want to come for coffee and fattening shit afterwards. Can you fix me up, hot stuff?"

(we have the number that used to belong to Java Lounge, a coffee place here in town which closed right before we moved here)

"Ohhhhh... Frank! I'm sorry I didn't recognize you. I'm busy with customers right now, but sure! I'd be happy to reserve five tables for you. What time?"

"How about 8:00 p.m.? We finish up at about 6:30, but you know it takes time to get out of the bowling alley and drive up the hill."

"Not a problem, Frank. We'll see you then!"

"Fantastic, honey pie! See you later!" CLICK

Heh. I'm going to hell for sure.

Then I decided to try out one of the knitting applications I bought for my iPhone. I think this one is called "Knitting Buddy". You can keep track of yarn, needles, projects, etc., on it. So I figured I'd put in one of the sock patterns I'm working on for a friend. I touched the screen under "Needles" and was presented with every size needle ever made. After figuring out how to use it, I got the needle size put in. Then it asked me for the type and length. OK... no problem. Yarn? Got it. Color? Uh... this is an indie multi (as are all my yarns). So I selected the most prevalent color (they give you a list). Picture - download or take one? Uh... well.... I do have a camera on the phone, so I touched "Take One" and the camera came on. I put the ball of yarn on my leg, centered it in the screen, held my breath, and touched the button. FLASH! Picture taken. Then I saw it.

A perfectly centered picture of my foot.

I took another one. This one came out better. Then it gave me a "Notes" section, into which I put the fact that the yarn is a multi and listed all the colors. There. One project down, four more to enter. At least I'm not inventorying my stash. That would take the new 32g iPhone with a memory card added. I've decided to keep track of my projects in this thing and take pictures of the finished items.

IF I finish any items.

I think I have about eight knitting applications for the iPhone, only one of which I've used. There's even a row counter, a gauge counter, a shopping list thing, blah blah blah. If it's a knitting gadget, I buy it.

I don't remember if I told you, but my Emma has been sick. She came in the house a week or so ago after going outside to go potty with poop and blood all over her butt. Since she's shaped like a solid fireplug, she can't turn around to clean herself. She stood there with sad eyes looking at Daddy (she knows that Mommy can't deal with doggie doo). Hubster cleaned her up and then took her upstairs to feed her dinner. Right after dinner, she had to go out again. Same thing. Fifteen minutes later, she had to go again. And so it went for two days until we could get in to see the vet whom our groomer recommended.

We finally found the vet's office in the middle of a grapefruit orchard (it smelled really good). He took all her vitals, examined her, looked at the poop sample we brought in, and told us that she either had a viral infection or an allergy to something. In any event, he prescribed sulfa drugs and told us to put her on a rice and cottage cheese diet until her poops were firm again. He also gave us a cream which Hubster had to rub under her tail a couple times a day for about a week (she had a skin infection under her tail that we didn't know about). Sure enough, she cleared up almost immediately. This guy is good - every bit as good as our vet in Livermore. He reminds me of the old-fashioned country vets you see on TV. We're keeping him.

And on another Emma note, she presented us with a totally mauled dead animal this evening. We think it was a squirrel, but we're not sure. Hubster took it away from her and threw it over the fence. Gack. That dog is more like a cat than a dog, from bringing things home to us to how she holds things in her paws to how she stalks potential prey (like the cardboard tubes inside toilet paper rolls).

Figures I'd get an identity-confused animal. There's nothing normal in this house.

Except me, of course.

(cough)