Sleet, Snow, and Sickness

WARNING: THIS POST IS LOADED WITH VERY BORING PICTURES.

If you choose to continue reading, I'm really happy to hear that. If you choose to shut this down, however, you will still show up as one of the cities who took the time to look at this piece of shit.

Thank you.

Hey! It's me! I bet you all thought I had finally kicked the bucket.

Nah... not this past month, anyway.

So what's new and exciting? Not much, really. The weather up here continues to confound the weathermen. They just can't seem to understand that we actually do exist and that our weather isn't the same as Los Angeles. I woke up to this the other day:





That's my front yard.





That's part of my backyard.





That's another part of my backyard.

As you can see from the date on the photos, this happened a few weeks ago. It happened the day before yesterday, too. And when it snows, someone goes apeshit.





Yep. It's the Flying Sausage. But she's just standing there, you say. She was taking a break from the racetrack:









She loves to run at full speed around the table. (You can tell it's really an action shot because her ears are flapping backwards.) She'll then run like mad into the house, make a turn around the coffee table, shoot back outside, and then race back inside, jump on the couch, and fall asleep for the rest of the day.

And then, at the end of the day when it stopped snowing this last time, this is what sunset looked like from my kitchen window:





That bright pink in the middle of the picture is the Pacific Ocean. People never believe me when I tell them we have an ocean view. You have to catch it when the air is clear, though.

Since only a few of you have seen my house, I figured I'd bore you with some pictures of it. This is the view of the stairs going down to the front room when you first walk in. If you go up the stairs to the left, the master and another bedroom are up there.





This is the front room looking out through the French doors onto the racetrack... uh... main deck:





Same room, different glass:





My fireplace, also in the front room:





That's where the wood is stacked. It even has a light in the top... why, I don't have a fucking clue.





What looks like a set of closet doors under the quilt (that's an antique - it's about 100 years old) is actually concealing a wet bar complete with a glass/booze cabinet and refrigerator. To the left of that quilt is the master; the other bedroom is to the right. The quilt hanging on the wall at the bottom of the picture was purchased at an auction to raise money for cancer research.





This is looking down the stairs leading to the lower level; i.e., the TV/knitting/sleeping/shithole room:









Some boring artwork:





And after chasing Emma, knitting, and watching court shows all day:





Whew. Enough of that.

Speaking of Emma, she's still limping. I think it's from all the activity. Bullies aren't known for their athletic prowess. We also just found out that our vet is a roaring drunk and mean to boot. I think we need to find another one. However, I do have some news which may impact our choice of vet.

We may be moving.

Come Thursday, we're driving up to the Bay Area for four days. On Friday, Hubster is going into the office and dropping me off at Stitches West (I'm going to partake of the festivities with a dear friend), so if you're there and I'm not on your shit list, come on up and say hey. Then we have to go to Mom's for Hubster's birthday dinner (his birthday is on Tuesday, the 23rd). On Saturday, I'm going back to Stitches and working in Rabbitch's booth; then Hubster is picking us up and dropping us off at some restaurant. I think getting plowed is also part of the evening's festivities. Then he'll pick us back up, take Rabbitch back to her hotel, and I'll most likely sleep on the drive to our motel. I'm thinking that going into San Francisco might be a grand idea. On Sunday, we're going to look at houses all day. I think we're looking in the Brentwood area - big houses with pools for reasonable prices and also home to Alpaca Direct. Finally, on Monday, we're going to see the kids and then head for home. The sausage will be with us, of course, although I don't know what we're going to do with her on Friday and Sunday. We might drop her off at Mom's while we're gone. Normally, we put her in her carrier, but we're going to be gone for hours. I don't like leaving her cooped up for that long.

I've got six pairs of socks on the needles for the trip, so I'll have a lot to work on. Only having one project going drives me apeshit. Hubster just looks at me in amazement and wonders how I keep everything straight (truth be told, I don't have a fucking clue which pattern goes with which sock - they all have the same number of stitches for the cuff).

The other big thing is that I dragged myself into the kitchen last week and fried chicken for dinner. We had two of our favorite people in the world over for dinner, and I wanted to make some comfort food. I wound up having to have one of them help me whisk the eggs, and I had to sit on my guitar stool in order to do the actual frying. Sigh. Things aren't going well with me personally, although our evening was incredible.

I'm slowing down. That's the sad truth, and I can feel it in every part of my body. My knees have arthritis in them and have been acting up (due to the cold, I'm sure). Headaches are an everyday occurrence now. I sleep in two to three hour bursts and rarely leave my chair. I'll be hobbling around Stitches with my walker, and I can honestly say that it will be the first time in almost two months that I've left the house. I'm depressed a lot of the time, but I try to not let on to Hubster. He's freaked out enough.

I'm so sorry for such a boring post (hence, the boring pictures to pad it). Otherwise, all I'd have to say is that I have a bad cold, feel like shit, am smoking more dope, and sleep/knit all day and night. If someone had told me that I'd be falling apart at this age, I would have laughed at them.

Better living through chemistry. And herbs.