47 Hours of Childbirth Felt Better Than This

I'm sick. I'm so sick that blinking hurts. It began on Sunday, the day we were coming home from vacation. I suppose I should be thankful - it could have hit on Saturday, the day I was doing the recording for the CD. But I'm not that sort of person - the "let's find the good in the bad!" kind of stupid bitch. Nope. I hurt and everybody is going to hear about it. I pity them.

Let me warn you that this post is VERY picture-heavy (for me). Hubster went crazy with the picture-taking finger and got pictures of everything from the cabin to the squirrels to the chipmunks to the road to the boulders to the ... well, you be the judge.

We left VERY late last Wednesday (I won't even tell you what time - I'm embarrassed by it), so we didn't arrive in Idyllwild until 3:30 a.m. Bear in mind that this tiny, charming little town is in the San Jacinto Mountains east of LA (and between LA and San Diego) at roughly 6,000-7,000 feet. Not only did we have to find the right turnoffs, we had to climb those mountains (one lane each way and straight up) in the type of darkness you only get in the wilderness. By the time we rolled up to the office where we were to pick up our keys, we were exhausted. Then we had to find the house, which entailed reading the map and instructions under a tiny light while I aimed a huge flashlight at the street signs through the windshield (and right in Hubster's eyes at one point when I swung around to answer a question, forgetting about the monster in my hand). We finally found the correct street but drove right past the house because we were looking for a driveway. I had a sickening feeling that the lights dimly shining through the trees WAY down the slope was where we were headed, but I kept hoping I was wrong. I wasn't.









Fortunately for me, I'm married to a man who believes that women shouldn't have to do the heavy work - especially when that woman is severely limited in what she can do anyway - so I explored around the cabin while he made several trips up and down those stairs bringing all our shit inside. As usual, we had packed way too much stuff, but you know how that goes. In any event, he finally finished, plopped down, and had himself a well-deserved rest.

The cabin we rented was absolutely charming and so well-stocked that it made my house truly look like a shithole. It was also spotless - no mean feat when you're smack in the middle of the forest. Here are some pictures of the inside of our home away from home.





My knitting niche.





Our kitchen, with the back door leading out to the deck in back of the house (and more property); the deck runs all the way around the house. There's also a small deck outside one of the upstairs bedrooms right above the deck in front of the house.





Emma wondering why we're not going outside to look for peanuts dropped by the scrub jays or chipmunks. She had an absolute ball, and I'm thrilled that we were able to bring her. She doesn't feel good, either; she's teething again.





Part of the front room and fireplace. They left us firewood, kindling, and matches in case we wanted a fire; it was too fucking hot for that. There was an outdoor fireplace as well on the deck in front of the house, but we never seemed to have enough time to light it. Besides, the fire danger was so high that we were a little afraid to light it.





Standing next to the stairs (to the extreme left) looking towards the front door across the living room. You can see part of the deck outside along with the hammock. Those garbage cans by the door? One is for pine cones; the other came filled with peanuts for the squirrels and chipmunks.





The "Log Room", one of the two upstairs bedrooms. There's also a half-bath off this room and a sitting area out of the camera's range.





The "Balcony Room", the other upstairs bedroom. True to its' name, this is the room with the small deck in front of the house. It's accessed by a slider. This room is smaller than the other one and also didn't have a ceiling fan like the others did.

There was also another bedroom downstairs with a wrought-iron bed and a full bath next to that. While there was no A/C, each room had a built-in wall unit for heat (I'd never seen anything like it before). Across from the full bath was a closet with a washer and dryer; right across from the dining area (next to the kitchen) was another closet with a vacuum, an ironing board and iron, and some other small appliances. There was also room for you to hang up your clothes after washing them if you so desired.

I debated about whether or not to show you these next few pictures but finally decided that you'd get something of a kick out of them. This is me (and Emma) knitting.





Then Emma got too hot to be where she was and moved to her final resting position for my knitting session that evening.





At least you can see that I was indeed knitting at some point. Actually, I think that I took out my needles, plopped the yarn into my Knit Witch yarn bowl when Emma came crawling up to cradle in my arms, and promptly fell asleep. I barely remember Hubster waking me up.

That's it for the pictures today. My next post (hopefully tomorrow) will show you the outdoor pictures, including the squirrel who took to waiting for me on the railing and scolding me if I came outside without peanuts. She also took a peanut from my hand, which Hubster caught on film.

Mac (the man with whom I recorded) took me shopping on Friday (Thursday was for exploring and resting). Idyllwild is an absolutely charming town with lots of cool little shops to look at. I managed to keep my spending under control (how, I don't know). Then it was back to the cabin for dinner and to do a sound check with the flutes to see which ones we were going to use in the studio the next day. It took us a few hours to select about 20 pairs of flutes, but once we had it all down, the job was done. Mac left, I knitted and began to freak out about the following day, and finally got a few hours of sleep much later that night. When I woke up at 7 a.m., I just stayed up. I had missed my alarm the day before, so I wasn't about to miss it on recording day.

At the appointed time, Mac picked me up (he had loaded all the flutes, drums, and rattles into the van the night before), we both sucked down some smokes, and headed over to the recording studio. It turns out that the studio was built behind and to the side of the sound engineer's house. It was absolutely lovely - there was a Steinway concert grand in the middle of the room, guitars hanging on the back wall, an organ against the back wall, and an enormous mixing board in a soundproof room off to the side. We took our places, got miked, put the headphones on, and began to record.

We were in the studio for five hours with both of us making a few substantial mistakes. All in all, however, it was an outstanding session. Mac was picking up the rough edit in the morning and sending a copy home with me so I could listen to it and make notes. It would have been much simpler if I could have come back up, but it's an awfully long drive. It also doesn't help that Labor Day is this weekend, so we'll do the best we can. I'll make a note of the track and what time the blip occurs, write down my thoughts, and send it off to him via email. We don't have a lot of time to get this done - the concert is at the end of October. To be honest, I can't believe that's me playing on there. Mac thinks it will be good enough to be nominated for a NAMMY (the Native American equivalent of the Grammys). We'll have to see how it sounds after everything has been cleaned up and all the effects put in. We have about 90 minutes of music, so that affords us the opportunity to actually delete songs if we so choose. We each did three solos; the rest of the songs are duets. I haven't sat down to listen to it yet because of this stupid illness thing. I slept for most of the drive home and got REALLY sick on Monday. I have a feeling that this one is going to hang around for a while.

The vacation was everything we hoped it would be, the recording session was outrageous, and I wish I owned a cabin up there for a get-away home (you should see some of these places). If we had the money (and a permanent house), it would be something I'd seriously consider. I guess a lot of Angelenos keep homes there for weekend trips. I can't say as I blame them. There are a lot closer places around here, but there's something about this idyllic place tucked away in the middle of the mountains. To give you an idea of the views you're blessed with as you're driving up or down, here are a few closing pictures.





About halfway up the mountain.





Another breathtaking view. There are "scenic view" turnouts all the way up (or down) the mountain so you can pull over and take pictures like this.





I'm not sure what this valley is called, but it's home to the Morongo Indians and their casino.





About halfway up the mountain. We drove all this at 3:00 a.m., so we missed all the sheer granite walls and the beauty of the surroundings. Because of that, these were all taken on the way home.

So now I'm going to go plop my big ass in my big-ass chair, pick up my knitting (I've cast on for a new pair of socks and managed to swatch for another pair), and work on that for the rest of the evening. Maybe later on tonight, if I feel up to it, I'll get some work done on the shop. I'm caught up (YAY!); however, I got three new vendors in the mail while we were gone, so Hubster has to take pictures of all the goodies those boxes contain. With the opening of knitting season coming up fast (I consider it open right after Labor Day), I want the shop to be well-stocked with goodies.

Until then... I think I'm going to barf.

On The Eve of a Great Adventure

Well, kids, it's here. I still have a million things to do, but I'm tired. I need to pack up my flutes, my knitting bags, and our luggage. It can all wait until tomorrow. So what have I accomplished today?

It doesn't seem like much, but I'm finally caught up on the shop update (and have sent out a newsletter letting everyone know about it). Not only are there lots of new vendors, but several vendors have updated their inventories. The alpaca lady (Fiber Co-Op) is there, as well as roving, yarn, stitch markers, earrings, notecards, etc., and a new color selection of the needle gauge jewelry from Debra's Garden. It took me all evening, but I wanted to get it done before we left. I still have to put up that one vendor, but that will wait until we get home. My main focus was to get all the vendors up and running, and that I've done.

So in the true tradition of me and Hubster, we'll wait until the minute before we're due to walk out the door to pack our luggage, my flutes and drums and rattles and medicine bags, my knitting bags, Emma's food and toys (her new bed and carrier are out in the car already), and all the other shit we always drag along with us. I checked the map to see where the street we're going to is, and it appears to back up into nothingness. How lovely! I told Hubster he'll have to be careful walking the sausage at night unless we bring the MagLight. I got that flashlight when I was in high school from my best friend's dad; it's still in the same shape it was in all those decades ago. It's a weapon, too, which is why I want him to take it. I know there are lots of critters out there at night who might take kindly to eating Emma. It's going to be an adventure for all of us, that's for sure. My idea of roughing it is having to get out of bed to reach the phone in order to call down for food and have my bath drawn (with rose petals sprinkled in the bath water). Think I'm kidding? Ask Hubster - he'll tell you.

I want to thank all of you who wrote, left comments here, and otherwise have shown your love and support. I'm getting nervous now that the day for us to leave has come. It's going to be hot down there, so I'm beginning to wonder if we should have put Emma in a kennel. But then again, it feels strange when she's not with us, so I think we're doing the right thing. The cabin is shaded from all the trees surrounding it and there are five ceiling fans, so I'm hoping it stays somewhat cool. We'll open it up at night. With any luck, Hubster will find a creek for the sausage to romp in during the day. That would be awesome.

Me? I'm going to do NOTHING except knit and relax on the deck. We have a gas BBQ, and they provide us with a propane tank as well as wood for the fireplaces. We might light the outdoor one at night; otherwise, we'll just relax and try to stay cool. I'm going for rehearsal Friday night, and then the recording session is at 11:00 a.m. Saturday. Nervous!!

So I'm off to knit for a while and probably fall asleep in my chair. No, strike that... I have two skeins to wind into balls first. I'm taking four knitting projects so I can switch off should I get bored (or really screw one of them up). I really have no plans for the time outside of practicing and in the studio. I think this will be good for all of us.

I'll have the notebook with me in case anybody needs to get in touch. The shop will also be open during our absence, but nothing will get shipped until next Tuesday. Have fun browsing in it (and hopefully finding something you love); remember that you can email me with question, problems, or just to say hello. :)

Screw knitting. I'm going to sleep. See you next week!

Fame and Fortune Await Me... Yeah, Right

Well gang, it's finally happened. I got the phone call.

Before you go asking, "What the hell do you mean, you got the phone call?", let me give you a little background.

Most of you know that I played in a benefit concert last year for the Kumeyaai-Ipai tribe in Poway. It wasn't only my first time performing in the concert - it was my first time performing in ANY concert. At intermission, I went out into the lobby to check out the items many people had brought to sell and was accosted by several people complimenting me on my performance, asking if I was going to be appearing anywhere else (including the concert the following year), and if I was going to record a CD.

Recording a CD had always been a nebulous sort of thing, but we began taking names of people who wanted to buy one. I spoke about it periodically with Mac, the man who organizes the concert every year and books all the performers. He often calls just to chat, so when I got a call from him the other day telling me to call him immediately, I figured he had something he wanted to run by me.

He did indeed.

The upshot of the call is that I'll be leaving Wednesday for Los Angeles (we're renting a cabin in the San Jacinto mountains - it's lovely - and Hubster and Emma are coming), and turning all this into a mini-vacation. The cabin has a hot tub under the stars. It's going to be heavenly. So why in the hell am I going to Los Angeles?

Because next Saturday, I'll be in the recording studio RECORDING MY FIRST CD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'll be playing the Native American flute.

(I'm not excited about this one little bit.)

I was going to drive myself, but I drove today for the first time in months - and just to my mother's house, 15 minutes away - and when I got home, I slept all evening. I didn't wake up until well after midnight and haven't eaten a thing since Friday. I had such great plans for last night, too - finishing up on the shop, frying chicken to take over to Mom's house today, blah blah blah - but that got shot in the ass. After seeing how tired just a quick drive made me, Hubster decided that he was going with me, bringing his computer and working from the cabin while I knit and practice, and bringing Emma along so she can romp around in the forest (on a leash, of course - I would die if anything happened to my little sausage). I'll take myself to the studio on Saturday (and we'll both go over to Mac's house on Friday so I can practice; we'll all eat dinner together that night at Mac's); and then we'll head for home on Sunday. Since the cabin has a fully-equipped kitchen, I'm hoping they'll come over for an evening at "our place", too. All in all, it should take us about eight hours to drive down there, since Mac actually lives in the mountains east of LA (and in-between LA and San Diego), and Hubster is worried that I would be too exhausted to navigate the mountain roads, even if I broke up the trip into a two-day voyage. I'm secretly glad he's going. The idea of driving by myself was a great one, but realistically, I just can't do it anymore. That bums me out. At least I got to drive today with the top down (we finally took off the hardtop - it's the first time since I bought the car in 2003 that it's been off), and my first time driving a convertible. It was awesome.

So I had to cancel prison day because I just have too much to do to get ready for all this. I have to find all the flutes he wants me to bring (there's about eight of them), get my rattles (including the ones my boys made me), my drum, and everything else I need for the session. I'll be in the studio for eight hours recording duets, solo performances, and performances with a backup group. I'm already getting nervous about this, but I'm also really looking forward to it. As for the concert (I've probably already told you this), they've pared down the number of performers due to budget cuts. I'm cheap - I don't take payment for my performance, don't accept money for lodging or food, and just go for the sheer love of playing. The Elders love me. :) Carlos Nakai (for those of you who are familiar with the artists in this genre of music) is the star attraction of the concert, and I'm one of two performers opening for him. My boys are telling me to not just open for him, but to embarrass him. I don't know about that, but I'll do my best.

I'll try to post one more time before we leave, and I'll also have my laptop with me so I can post from the deck of the cabin as well as attend to shop matters. We'll also be bringing our camera. Emma will miss her puppy class on Wednesday, but that's okay - we'll do a makeup. She's so smart that she picks up the new commands after two tries.

As for the shop, we'll be open for business, but all orders placed Wednesday through Sunday of this week won't be processed until a week from Tuesday. I'll need a day to recuperate before I can wrap anything up. I have several new vendors listed already and will get as many more listed in the next three days as I can. I also have some updates which will be done. I'd like to get Creatively Dyed listed before we go, but that's the last thing on my list.

Think good thoughts about me this coming Saturday at 10 a.m. PDT and send those vibes my way.

I'm going to need them.

This, That, and the Other Thing

First of all, may I direct your attention to the sidebar and all those buttons. If you look at the button right above the "You Make My Day" award, you'll see a new one called "Knit and Crochet Giveaway", or something closely approximating that. I'm encouraging you to click on that button and subscribe to the site. Just do it. I'll wait.

Done? Okay - back to our regularly scheduled programming.

First for the bitchfest.

I hate summer. I know there are those of you who cavort through vacations, enjoy having your kids home from school, going through family outings, blah blah blah. Me? I sit here and pine away for that which is lost, drip sweat, sleep, stare at the pool and wish the water were warmer so I could actually use it, sleep, drip sweat, get really cranky and nasty (tonight I told Hubster to put rat poison in my coffee so I could just get it over and done with), and when it gets really hot like it was today and will be tomorrow, I'm really fucking miserable. Part of it is the disease; the other part are the meds. Emma doesn't fair well with the heat, either. Bullies just don't do heat - it can kill them quite easily. I keep an eagle eye on her and have fans blowing, ice cubes in her water, and a frozen milk carton in front of the fan to act as a mini-A/C. It's going to be in the 90's here tomorrow, and that's just too damn hot. I think I'll try taking her in the pool (she loves water) to see if that cools her down. Bullies sink like a stone, so I'll have to hold her up by her belly and let her little stubby legs paddle away. It'll cool me down, too, and I wish I could have been in there every day like I was in the Sac pool. I miss having that deep mahogany tan. Sigh. Since I swim nude, I normally have an all-over tan; right now, I look like the belly of a dead fish. It just doesn't get hot enough... well, I've sung that song before, so I'll try to shut up. I just don't understand why this house doesn't cool off at night. The windows and doors are all open, the fans are set up to draw the cool air in... I just don't know. These old houses are built differently than the new ones (obviously), and they're great in the winter because they retain the heat. I honestly don't remember feeling this horrible when I was a kid. Maybe it's that global warming thing, or maybe it's because I'm an old, cranky bitch now.

So today, we had to take the queen to the vet for the rest of her puppy shots and her rabies shot. Not a problem. We got in the truck, she wiggled all over the back seat (she loves car trips), and off we went. As we drew closer to Livermore, I looked at the temperature gauge in the truck. It said 104. What??? Oh shiiiiiiiit. Sure enough, when we got to the vet, it was hotter than hell. I carried her inside because the pavement is just too hot for tender Bullie paws. No, she's not spoiled. Nope. Not one little bit.

So the vet came in, examined her, and noticed a little patch of skin that didn't have hair on it. Then she found a few other patches. After scraping one of the lesions (as she called them), she looked at the slide under the microscope, came back, and told us that my little one has mites. WHAT? I asked her how in the hell Emma got mites, and she said they come from the mother. The unfortunate news is that most dogs just shake it off with no intervention; Emma apparently has a comprised immune system (just like her human mama) and can't get rid of them herself. As a result, they're all over her body. We have to give her Ivermectin before meals and ramp up the dosage daily. I guess this shit tastes like shit and gives them the shits (oh happy happy joy joy), so we have to give it to her with food to avoid an upset tummy. She had enough trauma today, so we're starting it tomorrow. At least they gave us a syringe to squirt it in her mouth. We also got her Sentinel (they gave her one today, so she starts on that next month), and then we patiently waited for the medication to be mixed up. Then they gave us the bill. That little fart cost us $360. I damn near fell over and realized that we're not going to have enough money to make it through the next three weeks. Sigh. Hubster has figured out a way for us to get out of this mess (or at least to help us), so I'm resting a little easier.

After the ordeal at the vet's, we went over to my jeweler's (he's pretty much across the street) so I could get my ring checked and cleaned. When I fell outside of the dentist's office a couple of weeks ago and went surfing across the parking lot on my bare calf, I also scratched up the bottom of the band. I was afraid that I might have loosened some of the stones and really wanted to get it checked. Hubster and Emma stayed in the truck with the A/C blasting while I went inside. None of the diamonds were loose (as I was falling, the first thing I thought was, "Don't hit the ring!" and protected it accordingly), he fixed the scratches, and it took a half-hour to get out of there (I can't just walk in; we have to reminisce about what happened 20 years ago). Then it was back in the truck to get to Emma's puppy class.

I barely made it out of the truck when I noticed this enormous man standing there waiting for me. He was covered in paint and was obviously a construction guy. He immediately walked up to me, bent down, and began cuddling a very happy Emma. Then he told me that he had one at home (a few months older than her) and loved her to death. His little girl is named Bulldozer - Dozie for short. It was so endearing to see this monster of a man who could rip your head from your body speaking baby talk to a little wriggling sausage. She ate it up, of course, and gave him her best soulful eyes. He told me that he would never be without a Bullie again. I agreed with him and dragged a very reluctant Emma off to her class.

You have to picture this: A 28-lb. sausage-shaped creature with the chest of a bull, the head of a bowling ball, and the strength of a small horse trolling the isles of Petsmart (one of her favorite places in the world), totally ignoring her lessons and dragging Mama along like I weighed nothing. She knows that she can meet other dogs, get lots of love from the staff (who also all love her), and get to play with the puppies in her class. She also knows that class means treats, and no matter how bad she felt from all the shots, food takes precedence (she IS a bulldog, after all). She learned her new commands after two tries, got lots of loves from the trainer and a new guy who sat in on the class, and generally had a roaring good time. We came straight home today instead of going to Mom's; it was just too hot, and we were all drained and tired. No sooner had we all sat down at home than we fell asleep. Needless to say, I haven't gotten any work done tonight, but I'll be working on it through the wee hours of the morning.

Lest you think that I'm going to let you all off the hook, here are my gratuitous Emma pictures for tonight:





Her Majesty consenting to a picture while she lounges on the couch.





Her Majesty is tired of posing for pictures and is sliding back into slumber.

See? I didn't bore you too much.

So now it's time to go back to work and try to get one vendor listed. All the spreadsheet work is done, so now I just have to fill out a form for every item before I can upload the picture. I'll be doing the alpaca tomorrow; wait until you get a load of this stuff. She sent me 100 items, and that's all I'm going to say.

I'm too hot to say anything.

Lucky Day? Who Says?

With all the hype about this being a lucky day, I thought maybe I'd have a chance at some luck, too. Maybe I should have gone to a casino. Maybe I should have gone to the ocean. Maybe...

But no. I decided to work on my socks.

I've never done a short-row heel, and these socks have one. Okay, I thought, not a problem. The directions were written clearly. I had no problem with the leg of the sock, made out of a gorgeous merino/silk blend in a tone-on-tone green. I'd been saving this particular skein for something special, especially since it had 600 yards of luscious softness. The pattern called for 500 yards, so I figured that would be just right, since I always need more than what the pattern calls for.

So I began the short rows. Easy. No problems at all. But when I got to the point where I turned the heel, the directions weren't quite as clear. They instructed me to pick up the wrap along with the stitch and knit or purl them together. Okay. I managed that one just fine. Then it said to double-wrap the next stitch. Huh? Okay. I did another wrap on it - yarn forward, slip stitch, yarn back, slip stitch back on left needle. Still not a problem. In fact, the problem didn't come until a row later.

"Pick up both wraps along with the stitch and knit/purl them together, then wrap the next stitch, turn, and work until you reach the next double-wrap. Repeat."

This is sweet, I thought, as I merrily knitted my way across the row. What a great pattern. Look at that cute little heel already forming. Look at...

Uh... where the hell is the double-wrapped stitch?

It seems that the yarn I'm using makes it difficult to see some of the stitch formations. For the life of me, I couldn't figure out where the double-wrap was, which parts of the stitch I was supposed to pick up, and how in the hell I was supposed to get the needle into three knit stitches, two of which were lying across the bottom of the stitch and forming a bar like a purl. Oh shit.

So I gave it my best effort, got the wraps on the needle, and knit them all together. Hm. They didn't look bad. There was no hole at the bottom. I guess I did it right! Yay! So I wrapped the next stitch again and began on the purl side. It was then that I totally, completely, absolutely lost any hope of having good luck today.

I couldn't find the fucking wraps to save my soul.

Once again, I gave it my best guess, but I guessed wrong. Not only did it look like shit, there was a big honking hole at the bottom and a rather ugly bulge on the front of the sock.

Normally, I would throw the shitbag away at this point, but I decided to try and save it. I took stitches off. I worked backwards. I redid stitches. I did everything I could think of, and all that happened is that the whole thing looked uglier and uglier. So then I got the bright idea of picking up the row of stitches just above the last pattern repeat so I could rip out the heel and put in a heel flap. That went just great until my needle slipped. The stitches I was trying to pick up were just fine. It was the 20 stitches at the top which went flying off the needle from the sudden motion of my hands.

(Did anybody ever tell you how slippery silk really is?)

I looked at it in total despair. It wasn't fixable at this point. It was ruined. All that work. All that yarn. All that everything. So I wrapped it up, put it aside, and am pondering what to do with it. I could unravel the whole thing; I could unravel it down to the pattern repeat and try to pick up the stitches again; I could throw it all away and swear a lot. But I love the yarn, so I think I'll try to unravel it down to the pattern repeat first. If that doesn't work, then I can always unravel the whole sock and let the yarn rest before I use it again. I will not be defeated by a stupid pattern. I've been knitting for 48 years. I will get this done and get it done correctly.

If it kills me.

I'm working hard on the update and hope to have it finished by Sunday night. One of the new vendors is the alpaca lady I told you about before. She has a LOT of items which I think you'll go nuts for. There are batts, yarn, cards, etc., all of them soft (except for the cards), dreamy, and in beautiful colors. There are yarn vendors, stitch markers, and all sorts of goodies. I have a new shipment of Debra's Garden needle gauges in new colors - those might not make it into this update, but I'm going to try. I have Hide and Sheep stitch markers to add. There are new additions to existing vendors. It's a riot of color, texture, and beauty. I hope you enjoy it. And don't forget: Creatively Dyed yarn is all $12 a skein, and I think most of it is Seacell.

In closing, here's the picture I promised you a few days ago, the Chapstick holder which my SP12 pal made for me:





Lucky day. Suck my dick.

Thank God I'm Too Old For More Kids

Kids. Who needs them?

I see pictures of everybody's new babies, and they're all adorable: soft, sweet-smelling, tiny little feet and hands, truly bundles of joy. You have such hopes and dreams for your children, and they're your pride and joy. You watch them grow up, gain independence, find friends, find boy/girlfriends, have one crisis after another, think the world is going to end, talk to you for hours on end about how horrible that new boy/girl at school is, find another boy/girlfriend, go to the prom, learn to drive... all the things that alert you to the fact that your baby isn't a baby anymore.

And then they go to college, get the dream job, get their own apartment, move in with friends, earn their degree, become doctors or lawyers or professional football players or...

They drive dentures from the lab to the dentist's office.

I guess someone has to do it, but why my kid?

I'm absolutely exhausted. I've just spent the past three hours at puppy class and yelling at the thing that emerged from my snatch 30 years ago.

(I knew I'd work "snatch" in there somehow.)

Puppy class was fine. Emma has now realized that the little creatures who are 1/16th her size are her classmates and available for her to head-butt and play with. What's amazing is that all the little creatures have lost their fear and are now snarling and biting at Emma. Then this hideous creature who belongs to the people who sit next to us (this beast snapped at Em last week) tried to hump her face. I was less than pleased, and poor Em was confused. Personally, I think she should have opened her enormous mouth and bitten off his dingle. But she's far too sweet for that. We worked on walking on a leash today, and she did wonderfully. Then we weighed all the dogs, and she came in at 28 pounds. My little baby is a big sausage. However, a past student came into class with her baby, a nine-month old English Mastiff. This thing is close to four feet high at the shoulder and weighs 135 pounds. When she's grown up, she'll be about eight feet tall when she stands on her back feet and weigh 200 pounds. I guess Emma isn't as large a sausage as I thought.

After class, we had to go through all the people who wanted to lavish love on Em (she gobbles this shit up), talk to the staff who think Em is the cutest thing they've ever seen (they have exquisite taste), and make our way out to the car. I told Hubster to drive over to Mom's to see if the thing was there. I wanted to rip her a new one if she was. Unfortunately for her, she was out in front with the kids, so Hubster sort of blocked her car with the truck, and we all piled out. Beast wasn't too pleased to see us, although she did play with Em (Em doesn't know her history, nor does she care; all she knows is that Beast has two hands to pet her with). No sooner had we walked onto the lawn and I handed Em over to Hubster, I launched into a tirade.

Lest you think that I'm a horrible mother and/or person. let me say that Beast has been doing things to us and the rest of the family since she was in high school. She runs off with the first guy she dates; she totaled her brand-new car we bought her for Christmas; she got married to a total loser on the trip where she totaled her car (in Reno - she hit a patch of ice in February and hit a taxi with a cop in it); but worst of all, she has completely neglected her children. She barely gives my mom any money toward their support; she sees them for an hour a day and thinks that's enough; she thinks that Hubster and I should be buying their clothes and anything else they need - in other words, she likes being a mom in name only. I know that I've ranted about her before, but I'm so disgusted that I had to say something.

The face-off didn't go well. It was pretty much the usual bullshit, but after yelling at her for almost an hour, she finally broke down and switched tactics. She wants to sit down with me, mother and daughter together, and just talk without yelling. I told her fine; if she wants to talk, pick up the phone, call us to set aside a day, and come over. I know what will happen. Either she really will call and we'll talk (probably ending up in yelling like we always do), or she said that to shut me up and get away from the problem. I told her in no uncertain terms that this time, I've had it, that she's a horrible mother, that I simply can't believe I spawned a creature like her, and that we'll take her to court to take the kids away from her. I don't really want to do that, because I don't think I have the energy to take care of two rambunctious four-year olds. However, I also can't stand by and see them neglected by her. They have a happy home with mom and grandma, but that isn't going to last much longer. My mother is past 70 and has to have surgery very soon, and my grandma can't walk anymore. We're going to wind up with them one way or the other, and I won't have her using them as pawns against the family. She's self-centered, self-absorbed, selfish, disrespectful, nasty, and doesn't care about anything or anybody except herself - and that includes her children. So what did she do last weekend? She moved out of mom's into a house with three other girls so she could be closer to the boyfriend - and this in a town about 30 minutes away. The child who doesn't have any money to begin with has now taken on another debt which she can't afford. Mom always said she would throw her out, but there's a double-standard at work here. If I had done even half of what Beast has done, I would have been tossed out on my ass. But since Beast is mom's granddaughter, she goes easy on her. I don't think mom has done her any favors. In fact, I think she's made matters worse.

As I said, I've told you about my... my... child (shudder) before, but I'm just so damned mad that I had to rant or I would have exploded. I'm so disappointed, so hurt, so... so... so. I'm truly embarrassed to let people know she's my child. Of course, if you met her, you'd think she was a delightful and well-mannered person. But it's the act she's polished over the years. She's soulless and empty. It's such a waste.

I think I'm going to have a cuppa, work on the shop, and go cry in the corner. Because I couldn't let her see me cry. That would mean she had gotten to me, and that's a mark of victory to her.

It burns a hole in my soul every time this happens, and my soul can't take much more.

Secret Pal 12 Question

Here is this week's SP12 question:

Have you ever entered your knitting (or anything else) in the fair? Would you ever consider it?

Yes. In 1999, I entered my baklava in the Pastry Division for Baking, as well as a king-sized bed hand-pieced sampler quilt, in the California State Fair. I took first place with the quilt (which was later auctioned off for Habitat for Humanity at a black-tie dinner - my best friend had organized the event), and also took first place, Best of Class, and Best of Division with the baklava. I would have taken Best of Show, too, but I lost out to a chocolate pie. When I received my score sheet, I had a score of 100 and the comment, "Perfect!". That must have been one hell of a pie. I think that traditionally, pies win Best of Show in pastry. That's okay - I got a shitload of ribbons and the rosette I had been coveting. One day, I'll enter my knitting or crocheting or spinning - if I can get my shop update done, that is.

Some Weeks I Can Do Without

WARNING: LONG POST AHEAD

You know how some weeks start out badly, giving you a sick feeling in the pit of your stomach because you just know that things are going to get worse? Well...

We've stopped going to Folsom the night before prison day for two reasons: we can't afford spending $100 every other week for a hotel room, and we don't like the idea of leaving Emma home alone for that long. We decided that taking her with us to a hotel isn't feasible right now. Even though she's potty trained, she still has accidents; I don't want her to pee on the bed during the night. We also take her out every four hours or so to go potty (and to allow her to roll in the grass), which is kind of difficult to do when you're in a hotel. Anyway, it's turned out to be easier leaving the same morning as I'll be in the prison, and Emma does just fine in her playpen for the day.

So yesterday, we headed out at about 5:15 a.m.. Traffic was light; I managed to stay awake for the entire trip; the weather was lovely. We got there, I got my crap out of the truck, and Hubster took off. After I got up to the guard shack, I saw that Bill wasn't there. I called him and found out that something was wrong in the cellblock - nobody was on the yard, and there were guards prowling about. Bill said he would try to find out what was going on and would come get me. In the meantime, I sat on a bench and waited.

When he came to get me, he had bad news. Something had happened (although none of the guards would tell him exactly what), and the block appeared to be on lockdown. He suggested that I call Hubster and have him pick me up. That would have been fine except for two reasons: I couldn't remember his phone number, and his phone didn't have any bars showing; hence, no power. I was stuck at the prison for two hours with no ciggies, no shade, no nothing. Bill bought me breakfast, said goodbye, and I was on my own.

I sat out in the sun wondering how in the hell I was going to survive for two hours until Hubster came back; I was craving a ciggie something horrible. In fact, I asked everybody who walked past me if they were a smoker (nobody was). Then I found out how I was going to spend the time. A great deal of it was spent falling asleep and catching myself as I rocked forward on the bench. Then it happened, and right in front of a group of inmates who were tending the grounds.

I fell flat on my face.

Apparently, I fell asleep, rocked forward, and didn't wake up in time to catch myself. What made matters worse is that I had a sundress on. All I know is that I was being lifted in the air by five inmates, all of whom looked really concerned. They sat me back on the bench and crowded around, asking if I was okay and if I needed anything (yeah, I needed a ciggie, but I don't think any of them were holding). Then a guard came charging down the walkway, yelling at the inmates to get away from me and asking if they had molested me. I calmed Rambo down, thanked the men, and noted (thankfully) that it was almost 11:00 a.m. Then Hubster FINALLY showed up, and we headed for home. I lasted as long as it took to get to the gas station; then I don't remember a thing until Hubster said we were home. Emma was beside herself with happiness when we walked in the door. I'll have some pictures to bore you with in a little while.

I've been trying to get an update for the shop done for a week now, but I keep falling asleep or being so weak that I can't move. I have high hopes for tonight, even though I already feel sleepy. I also hurt. Why?

I fell flat on my face. Again.

This time, it happened out in front of the dentist's office. I went today to get that damned bottom partial adjusted so I can wear it. Hubster went outside about halfway through the appointment; when it was over, I headed out to the truck. I was walking next to the truck on one of those raised cement curb bumpers when my ankle folded in half. I tried to catch myself, but when you weigh as much as I do, it's difficult to do. I went down on the curb and hit the parking lot, scraping up my left calf pretty good. I also scratched up my ring (sigh); back to Lance's to have him buff it out and check the setting. I began banging on the truck because Hubster didn't come right out. It turns out that he was snoring away, but he finally heard my screaming and banging and ran outside. After picking me up, he stuffed me in the seat, looked at my leg oozing blood, and took off for the gas station to get me something to drink (if I'm drinking, I'm not crying). Then he cleaned it up when we got home. Now my teeth and leg hurt. Shit.

As many of you know, I'm participating in the Secret Pal 12 swap. I got a package from my pal the other day full of goodies. One in particular uh... stood out. Our camera just died, so I won't have a picture of it until later. She made it for me after making sure that I wouldn't be offended (me? I make obscene phone callers weep). No, it's not a cock pillow, but close. I'll post the whole bunch of gifts later, too. She's a doll - I couldn't have asked for a better pal.

OK... time to bore you with Emma.





Emma in her bed with her toys.





Emma on the couch.





Emma sneaking up on Mommy.





What Mommy saw when she looked down from her knitting (that white thing at the bottom of the picture is Mommy's white leg).

The other lovely thing that happened is that I was making a swap gift for another swap pal when I fell asleep (this was last night, shortly after I looked down and saw those little fangs). When I woke up this morning, about half of the stitches had dropped off the needle. Bear in mind that I was using Addis - large Addis (size 10-1/2) - which I'm not used to using (I use size 1 in wood these days), so I had forgotten how slippery they are. I looked, horrified, at the mess which was formerly a difficult sequence of stitches per row. It took well over an hour just to sort the thing out and another hour to put it all back together again. Sigh.

So tonight, I'll be using Bento (the new program which has a cool spreadsheet) to log in all the new vendors which I hope to include in the shop update in the next day or two. I had hoped to have this done a week ago, but as I said earlier... Let's hope that everything goes well.

Oh... I have a comment to make. One of my vendors, Drooling Over Yarn, had another fiber artist call her work "a hobby". She was deeply hurt by this, as Laura takes her work very seriously and does an outstanding job on her yarn. In fact, she was chummed by L&V today. I have a large amount of her yarn in my shop and am proud to carry it. So to this fiber artist (I don't know who it is), maybe you should think about how you would feel if someone looked at your work and said, "That's a nice little hobby you have". I doubt that you'd be very happy about it.

I have now done my Public Service Announcement for the week.

Signing off.

My Brain is Going to Explode ...

... from all these questions. You know how much I hate thinking. It taxes what little resources I have left.

What is your favorite supper for a hot summer evening? This is a hard one, as Hubster and I don't eat much of anything anymore. I even asked him what the answer is, and he had no idea; instead, he rambled on about his favorite meal when he was a kid. I don't give a flying fuck about what he ate. His parents and I have a mutual hate society going on, so the less I hear about anything having to do with them, the better. That being said, the only thing I can think of is anything that doesn't require cooking indoors, which boils down to BBQ. Because we don't have A/C, if this little house heats up, we're doomed.

And with that, I have to go take a shower because Emma has bathed me with her doggie love kisses, which means I smell like a wet dog/person. Totally unacceptable for taking her to her puppy classes. Or maybe that's the one place where nobody realizes how bad they smell.

She just stole my slipper off my foot and ran across the room with it, head held high and prancing. The little shit.

'Scuse me.

Just When You Think You're Getting Ahead ...

... you get blindsided by a bucket of shit falling right in your lap.

It all started this morning when I got up and found Hubster sitting on the couch, staring at his computer and not doing much of anything. The TV was off; the room was absolutely silent. Emma had run him out of bed last night, so he came to sleep on the couch so he could get some rest. It turns out that he was sick, and it just got worse as the day progressed.

I should have known something was coming. He didn't finish taking all the pictures for the update, so I had expected him to do it today. Not a chance. He couldn't even get off the couch, so I put Emma next to him; they were both sound asleep in a matter of minutes. Then I began feeling crappy myself and sat down in my chair to try and do some bookwork. No go. I couldn't get motivated to do much of anything, not even knit. I did knit last night while he was taking pictures, but today was set aside to finish the update. All I finished were a few naps.

Needless to say, nothing is getting posted. As I stated before, if I try to do anything when I'm tired (or sick), I make mistakes. So what I've decided to do is have the update on Thursday. We're resting tonight and tomorrow, then we'll finish up the loose ends on Wednesday. I hate to do this to the vendors who have waited so patiently, but when it's me doing all the bookwork and computer listing and him doing all the photography and coding, all it takes is a blip in your carefully planned life and schedule to fuck everything up.

I'm trying to find some dyers who are willing to dye up some special yarns so we may have a sock yarn club. If any of you are dyers and wish to participate, please email me. I'd like to do a theme of some kind; I'm certainly open to suggestions.

Emma has a huge red spot and bump on her head. First, she was playing with her blankie and wool toy when she went toppling over the edge of her bed, whacking her head on the lever for the recliner. Then I went into the bathroom and shut the door all the way. The next thing I knew, there was a huge BANG! and the door shuddered. After that, there was scratching at the door, but I couldn't open it. She had spotted me going in there and charged the door, trying to get in before I shut it. I feel terrible. Right now, she's in her crate snoring away. I'll take her out in a little while when I go lay down. She's claimed Hubster's side of the bed for herself, which is why he got run out of bed last night. She seems to have figured out that licking his ear drives him nuts and causes him to sit up straight in bed, giving her a chance to scoot into the warm spot where he was laying. Anybody who says bullies aren't intelligent obviously haven't interacted with one.

On the bright side of things, that weird dude hasn't shown up again. Thanks for all your comments and ideas about why he was there; I simply don't know what he was doing. I've been keeping my eyes open for intruders, but everything has been quiet on the western front.

Tomorrow is my grandma's 90th birthday, so I'll be making her a tray of lasagna and a cake. As to when I'll be taking it over, I don't know (it will probably be next week before I can make them). If Hubster is up to it, we might drive Emma over there to visit. Mom is waiting for the results of some tests she took. Some of them were from her gyno; she not only got her cooter rooted, she's facing surgery for a prolapsed uterus (which she blames me for - I guess I tipped it or something when I was in it). She also has a cataract in one of her eyes which needs to be removed, and she has to have some more testing done for various things. Sigh. More family shit I don't need, and I can't be over there to take care of both her and my grandma. I don't have the strength, and I also can't leave Hubster alone with Emma all day. That little sausage is a bundle of energy who demands constant attention. She also needs constant supervision as she's developed a taste for electric cords, my expensive dining room set (which is now not worth the money it would take to haul it out of the house, Ethan Allen or not), our slippers, the drapes, my feet, my underwear, any clothes you happen to take off and drop on the floor, and anything else she can fit in that enormous maw of hers. It's all worth it, though. She's so damned cute and comical that I can't imagine life without her.

Now I have to go make Hubster some broth, find something for dinner for myself, and then sit down for the rest of the evening. I think this will be one of the rare times I go to bed early.

Mark your calendars. This won't happen again any time soon.

I have decreed it to be so.

Late as Usual

I just wanted to let you all know that the update I had planned for tonight/tomorrow isn't finished yet. Most of the items are photographed; I have to finish the logging and tagging, and then I'll write the descriptions and upload everything. I'll finish it up during the day and evening on Monday. I'm just exhausted tonight (and, in fact, just woke up), so I don't want to work on it while I'm this tired. That's when I do stupid things.

Something strange also just happened. Hubster went running out of the house (I was typing a reply to a Ravelry flame war), and then I heard him demanding answers from someone in the driveway. I went to the front door and pushed Emma back (I didn't want anybody to see her), and when I got outside, there was some guy backing away from Hubster and babbling as fast as he could. It turns out that he was on his belly and crawling under our truck; he told Hubster that he thought he had lost his wallet either in our driveway or under the truck. What? I asked (loudly) if I should call the cops, and that's when the dude said that we could write down his license plate. Hubster told the guy to give us his name and number in case we found the wallet (cough). The dude said his name was Mike and that he didn't have a phone. Then he backed up as fast as he could, jumped in his car (where someone was waiting behind the wheel - the engine was running), and they burned rubber getting out of here. I don't know what the hell the dude was doing, but he was up to no good. Now I'll have to stay up all night to make sure he doesn't come back (I'm worried about Emma). I'm truly bothered by all this and wish now I had called the cops and had Hubster keep the dirtbag here. Hubster didn't get a description of the car they were driving, so there's nothing the cops could do at this point.

Shit.

This Week's SP12 Questions

What is(are) your favorite place(s) to knit? The Monster (the chair and a half angled perfectly so I can see the TV). I love to knit at night while I watch the court shows I've TiVo'ed during the day. Once in a while, a good movie will come on TV, so I'll watch that instead. As long as the idiot box is on, I'm happy. I really don't like knitting anywhere else. I've tried knitting groups, but I can't talk and knit at the same time. I occasionally take my knitting with me on vacation or to the hotel on prison weekends, but I'm usually too tired to get more than a row or two done.

What supplies (besides yarn & needles) make the setting perfect for knitting? Ciggies, a cuppa joe, scissors, my miniature crochet hook for picking up stitches, my bendy light that I can focus right where I'm working, stitch markers, row counter, and the TV remote control.

Wow. I need a lot of shit just to knit a sock, don't I? That's me - I've got to have everything made for a particular art (or craft) just to be able to do it. How did our ancestors do things by candlelight? I'm already getting blind as a bat even with a high-powered light focused on my work. Knitting in near-darkness? I don't think so. Oh... I have to be in my jammies to knit, too. It's rare that I knit during the day. I suppose that goes along with being a creature of the night. I also suppose it explains why I fall asleep so often while I'm knitting and drop so many stitches. I call it practice for picking up stitches in every possible permutation.

So in two hours, I get to go back to the dentist. Those lower dentures were killing me last night to the point where I couldn't even close my mouth. The uppers are better, but they still need adjustment. I hate that you can't really tell how dental work is going to feel while you're in the office. Noooooo... you have to go home, die all night, and then try to get an appointment the next day (which means you have to go back to the office) to get the fuckers fixed. I get three free adjustment visits. Let's hope he can fix them today. I hate having to go there (and I hate having to put on "real" clothes when I'd rather be in my jammies). It's necessary, though. You try drinking coffee with no teeth in. They serve a purpose other than making you look like an attractive adult when you smile - they seem to keep coffee from dribbling down your chin and on your shirt, pants, chair, etc.

We're working on yet another update for this weekend (hopefully). Tonight is photography night for Hubster and logging/tagging night for me. We've got a shitload of new vendors, a bunch of Hide and Sheep stitch markers, and something special to list. It's a long story, but suffice it to say that Dianne of Creatively Dyed and I had a falling out over her selling through the shop. As a result, I've got a box of her yarn sitting in my studio which I didn't know what to do with. I've decided that I'm going to have a one-time offering at a bargain price - $12 per skein, no matter what the fiber content. I think it normally retails for $26-28. Once it's gone, it's gone, so have at it. That will be listed this weekend as well.

Emma slept with me in bed for the first time last night (or early this morning, depending on your perspective). After running around for 10 minutes, eating my ears, slobbering all over my face, and sitting on my head, she settled down and went to sleep. When I woke up this morning (or later in the morning, depending on your perspective), she was curled up on the pillow next to my head with the covers over her. She's just too cute for words. I also took her out back yesterday with a big bowl of water and ice cubes. She's discovered the joys of dunking your head in ice-cold water and grabbing an ice cube, bringing it back into the sun, and then dropping it in a pile of weeds. Gack. It didn't seem to bother her much until she discovered that she could lay on the BBQ cover and munch on her ice cube without it getting dirty (and without her having to lay on the concrete). I'll take her out to play again when we get home from the dentist.

Speaking of which, it's time to get in the shower. I have doggie slobber to wash off my entire head and face.

She loves me.

Oh... here's a parting picture of the snorting snausage for your pleasure.

Thoughts and Babbling

I don't really have a lot to say today, but I thought that I would babble anyway.

Yesterday was prison day. We decided that rather than put Emma in a kennel for three days (they're not open on Sundays, and we wouldn't be home in time to get her Monday), we would leave in the morning and come straight home after my doctor's appointment. Hubster set up her playpen, made sure she had her bed, toys, water, blah blah blah, and off we went. Even though I'm normally up at that hour of the morning (5 a.m.), it seems different when you have to shower, get dressed, and get in the car to go somewhere. I was dead tired and slept for part of the way. Amazingly, we got there right on time (who knows what traffic will be like?), and Bill was waiting for me with the golf cart.

The lesson went well until one of the men voiced his displeasure at playing jazz. For reasons I won't go into, I had to shoot him down (obviously not literally, since I'm at home). After a 15-minute rampage, he backed down. Then I had to set another man straight - this one a Crip - so by the end of the lesson, I was a bit tired. After all that, I had to get blood drawn and go to the pain doctor. Oh fun. I slept all the way home, so I can't tell you about the lovely scenery. Well, actually, I can... think flat, brown, and cows.

The doctor called this morning and told me that my thyroid meds are too high, so she's lowering them. Great. I've lost some weight, and now I'll probably gain it all back. The good news, though, is that my sugar was down low, so she's not going to do anything. No needles, no pills, no nothing. Yay!

Emma continues to grow like the proverbial weed. She's almost her full height right now, but her head and chest will continue to grow for two years. She's going to be huge. I burned my leg with a ciggie yesterday (the joys of falling asleep while you're smoking), and it was blistered by the time we got home. Emma was so excited to see us that she bounced onto my lap (it's a good thing she didn't bounce on my chest, or she would have shot across the room), scrabbled with her paws on my thigh to get up on my shoulder, and tore open the blister. Sigh. Now I've got a leaky burn wound that hurts like a bitch.

Then today, we went to get my new dentures. Good news - I can eat real food again! Bad news - they hurt. It reminds me of when I had braces and they would tighten them. I have to get used to them, since they're made differently than my old ones and fit tighter. I have to go back tomorrow to get something adjusted. I think I may be taking a LOT of extra oxycontin tonight.

As for knitting, the socks are going well. I'm using a fantastic yarn from my shop by handkraft, which is made of 50% silk and 50% merino. The color is called "Grass". It's a tone-on-tone and has a slight sheen from the silk. The pattern I'm using is by Knitspot called "Luxor". It's simple as can be and makes a spectacular sock (knit and purl diamonds). I've not done a short-row heel (I usually use a heel flap), so this will be new for me.

Other than that, there's nothing at all going on. We've had delightfully cool weather (in the 60's), but it's supposed to warm up this week. I don't think it will be as hot as it was some weeks ago, though, so I suppose we'll all live. Emma was out in the backyard and eyeing up the pool, so maybe I'll have to buy her a lifejacket so she can swim. Bullies swim like stones, but if I can keep her afloat, it will be a blast to swim with her.

Time to go knit before I fall asleep. Sorry for being so boring, but my life is kind of quiet for a change.

Three oxys, and I'll be quiet as a mouse.

Life With Emma and Other Assorted Useless Shit

It just occurred to me that I've missed answering not one, but TWO SP12 questions. My poor swap pal. She must think I'm a horrible flake and/or typist. The first one, sometimes. The second one, no. I'm actually an exceptional typist. I just haven't had the time to blog lately. With that having been said, here goes:

1) Where is your favorite place to go for vacation/holiday? Disneyland, along with San Diego on the same trip.

2) Where is one place you’d like to go? Anywhere I can swim with dolphins.

(Emma is on Daddy's lap, licking his ear and trying to wake him up.)

Okie dokie. Here is the question for this week:

What is your favorite type of project to take along on holiday/vacation? Socks.

(Daddy woke up for a minute, petted Emma, and fell back asleep; Emma is planning a counterattack.)

As for a story about overpacking knitting for a trip or running out of knitting, I always overpack. In fact, I've been known to bring along five or six pairs of socks to work on if I'm going to be gone a week. What usually happens is that I don't work on anything or, if I do, I get a few rows done before I fall asleep. Hence, I never run out of something to work on. I've also been known to find a yarn shop and buy something new. You know... in case I finish the five or six other projects I've brought along.

(Emma is now sucking on Daddy's chin; he's giggling like a loon.)

So what's been going on? Well, I had to cancel prison day last week because the pot roast had her first vet appointment. She's in perfect health, the ideal weight, and loves liver treats. I've never seen a dog (let alone a puppy) fall asleep on the table in the vet's office. She charmed everyone and had attention lavished on her. After her appointment, it was time to go back outside in the horrible heat that we had all week long. I was worried; bullies are prone to heatstroke and can't take temps above 80 degrees. It was 110. We hustled her into the truck where the A/C was blasting and got her home, where she promptly flopped on the couch and slept all evening.

(Emma and Daddy are now both asleep and snoring... another fun evening in the Mann household.)

Before I launch on to even more boring subjects, I've had several requests for baby pictures. I have to warn you that the pot roast is already the size of a Thanksgiving turkey. Please ignore the fat person in the pictures with her.





She's as unladylike as her mother.





This is how the family-size pot roast shows affection - with lots of sloppy kisses (and yes, Syd... she has puppy breath).





Yet another kiss which I can't seem to escape from. You try getting Emma off your lap when she wants to kiss you.





Every girl needs a stuffie.





Just like Daddy when you're trying to wake him up. One eye opens, and then you realize that he's really a zombie who isn't awake at all.





That's her chewy rope and the towel we went out and bought for her (she looks good in/on/eating purple). No, she doesn't have weird white eyes; Daddy fucked up the camera setting. Yes, that's my phone number; don't call and ask if you can have her. I might let you come play in the shop, though.

Speaking of the shop, we had a sale last week which went extremely well. I've also got a lot of new vendors (yes! more!) on the way. Monday is prison day, so I'll be gone this weekend (if you call, leave a message). Hubster will be taking pictures all next week since we can't work on the shop this weekend, and I'll be logging, tagging, and uploading pictures for your pleasure. I've got all kinds of cool things coming and/or here. Poor Emma has to be boarded because we'll be at the doctor's late in the afternoon. I'm worried that we won't be home in time to pick her up Monday night; it looks like she'll be in the kennel Saturday, Sunday, and Monday. Sigh. I wanted to bring her, but she can't sit in the car all day. She could probably come in the doctor's office, but it's hours between when I'm done at the prison and when my appointment is. Maybe I can figure something out... there's a cool dog/cat shop on H Street which welcomes pets... hm.

(I can't tell who's snoring louder; Daddy is slumped over on the couch, and Emma has her back feet braced against his thigh while laying on her side. Yes, her tongue is sticking out.)

Other than knitting (I started two new pairs of socks, which I'll show you if I actually finish them), I had a showdown with the beast that came out of my snatch. No, I'm not talking about lint or moths; I'm talking about our not-so-dear daughter. It seems that she's been paying for the kids' preschool and that's it. Mom is broke, and we're not far behind - we've been splitting all their expenses, and Hubster has the kids on his medical policies at work (mucho expensive premiums). Lily has to have speech therapy, which our insurance covers to a point - we're paying the remainder. All in all, everybody is being drained dry. Hubster and I ran out of money last week (literally); thank god we have overdraft protection, because we overdrafted. Quite frankly, I'm getting tired of eating sandwiches and holding my breath to see if we'll have enough money to last the entire pay period. If we didn't have so many fucking bills to pay, it wouldn't be a problem. We're being good citizens, though, and paying everything which got neglected during the nightmare a year ago. Don't worry - Emma has plenty of food, and I don't need to eat.

Anyway, the thing refused to call me, so I told Mom to pass along a message: either she called me the following evening, or I would drive until I found her. She knows I'll do it; I've done it before and always found her. So when she called the next evening, I lit into her. She thinks we're made of money and didn't understand why I should be allowed (that's what she said) to spend it on anything I wanted. Uh... excuse me? If I did have money, it would still be none of her business what I spent it on. She knows her grandmothers are broke (and with my grandma not able to walk anymore, their expenses are going up due to medical crap), and she just doesn't care. It's all about her - not us, not the kids, not Mom and Grandma - her. Or so she thinks. She likes to spout off a lot of shit about how she doesn't feel like the kids are hers (we don't let her take them anywhere because she has a nasty habit of taking off with men; who knows what would happen to those kids?), and because she feels that way, she doesn't think she should pay for them. I informed her that she did the nasty, got two buns in the oven and chose to keep them, and then popped them out her now floppy stomach (I'd like to say snatch again, but she had a C-section), and that made her their mother, like it or not. After a half-hour of railing against her, I finally got tired of hearing her snotty voice and hung up on her. Will it help? Will more money be given to my mother to help with their expenses? I don't know, but I hope so. She flat out told me she wants to marry this joker she's been dating, and I know it's because she wants to move out of Mom's house. All she does is bitch about it because things aren't the way she wants. The kid doesn't fork over a dime for rent, food, utilities - nothing. Find me a deal like that anywhere else and I'll take it myself. Sigh. I don't know how I spawned such a beast.

And so life goes on. I've got my puppy; I've got stash; I've even got some English muffins. What more do I need?

Some butter for my muffins would be nice.

Question

This is just a quick question for my vendors. I'll write a real post (holy shit... I'm becoming prolific again) later tonight.

For those of you whose work I put up for the first time with the recent update, please tell me if you didn't receive the vendor page instructions. I've sent a lot of them out, but I know I've missed a couple of people. I'd appreciate it. :)

Thanks!

SALE ALL WEEK AT YARNY GOODNESS!

Just a quick note to let you know that there is a 15% sale through Friday at Yarny Goodness:

http://yarny-goodness.com

Everything is on sale, and I've added a lot of new vendors. I've also updated a lot of existing vendors. Come on by and see if there's something you might like - things are already moving!

And that ends this public service announcement.

The other thing I wanted to say is thank you to everyone who commented about my little snoring pot roast. :) I tried to write to each of you, but some of you have your email addys hidden. That's not conducive to letter-writing. To those of you whose addys I do have, you'll be hearing from me - probably later tonight.

Right now, we're under a massive heat wave, and Emma can't take temps much above 80 (when it hits 90 in San Francisco, you know we're all ready to die). We're well above that, and with no A/C in the house, we're all suffering. We're going to buy her a little plastic wading pool because Bullies can't swim well. Because of their shape, they swim like rocks - at least, most of them do. We could sit in the pool with her and let her sit on the top seat of the steps, but that water is COLD. It would be too much of a shock to her little system. So maybe later tonight, we'll hit Le Target and get her a pool of her own.

Right now, I'm going to peel off my clothes, sit in the tub, and knit socks.

After I have a cuppa, that is.

Busy, Busy Weekend

Lots of things are happening this weekend at Chez Mann. First, since I forgot to answer the SP12 question last week, I figured I'd better answer the one for this week. Here goes:

1) What yarn (that you don’t have/haven’t used) would make your stash “complete”?
2) What yarn do you never want to be without?

1. I think that any indie yarn which I don't have is what would make my stash complete. Since my stash fills an entire room, new dyers are the ones I don't have. Who are they? Beats the hell out of me! I'm always keeping my eyes open, though, so if I see someone whose work would be a good fit for the shop, I can drop them a note.

2. I don't have an answer for this one. As you all know, I don't use commercial yarns. Even though I have some favorites in the indie world, I don't want to name them for fear of offending others who might sell through the shop. Let's put it this way - if I don't have sock yarn, I might as well not knit.

Whew. Those questions make me think, and that hurts.

So Thursday, we headed over to San Francisco International Airport to pick up our baby. When we arrived, her flight had just landed, so we had to kill about 15 minutes before she was unloaded. Once we went back into the office, they gave us a stack of papers and told us to go over to Customs (Homeland Security) in order to clear her through. That took all of 10 minutes, from the time we drove over, gave the papers to the man behind the counter, and came back. Then we were told to go into the warehouse to get our baby. Oddly enough, there was another puppy from the same breeder (she was the other one I was trying to decide upon - it was going to be either her or Emma), so Emma got to travel with her sister. Then I saw her and my heart melted all over the floor. There, in a large, sturdy carrier, were these soulful eyes peering out at us. I stuck my finger into the cage and had a paw rest on top of my hand, and then a velvety-soft muzzle rubbed against it. We picked her up and carried her out to the truck so we could get her collar on and take her to go potty. Just as we were doing that, the owners of the other puppy arrived and ran over to see our girl. They were as excited as us and absolutely thrilled to see that the babies had made the trip successfully. So, Syd:

EMMA IS HOME!

She is absolutely the sweetest puppy in the world. We've had her two days, and she's already potty-trained. She understands "no", "come", and some other basic commands, and is truly a Velcro dog. Right now, she's laying by my feet while I type.

Here's a picture of us sock knitting:





She's the cute one.

She did really well with the fireworks last night; in fact, she completely ignored them because we did. She's literally glued to us and has to sit with me in the chair, no matter what I'm doing. And she snores with her tongue sticking out. I'm so in love that I can't stand it. She begins her puppy training classes next Friday, and I can't wait to show her off. She's now gotten up off her towel and is helping Daddy take cookies out of the oven. Oops... she's back with me now.

Other than playing with Emma, I've been working on the shop. I can't do too much at a time, but I work on it as I can. I'll be finished with the update by the end of the weekend and will have everything posted on Monday. Monday also starts a week-long sale on everything in the shop, so check in - there will be lots of fun things, both new vendors and updates to established ones. I'll put a list of all the new things to look at in the newsletter and also at the top of the home page. I also wanted to mention that anybody who placed an order this week will have it mailed out on Monday. I've just not been well, so I haven't gotten everything done. That's why I've been slow with updating. I think it will all be worth it, though.

So that's what has been consuming all my time this weekend. Thank you, everybody, for all the comments about Emma; she's even cuter in person. I'll most likely bore you all with pictures of her as she grows. I won't have a prison visit this Monday; she has her first vet appointment (I had to schedule it ASAP because if I waited, it would void her health guarantee). It's really strange to think that she lived in Russia and came all the way over here. That little pot roast has traveled more than I have; she flew over the North Pole to get here with a layover in Amsterdam (she came in on KLM). For those of you who have yarn with me, don't worry - she's not allowed in the studio where the yarn is kept, and she also won't be anywhere near it when I go to list it. Even though she has short hair, she still sheds. I also don't think you want your yarn to smell like a puppy.

So back to work on the update. I may have to take a few breaks to have Snickerdoodles, though.

And to cuddle my little snoring pot roast.

Time Still Flies Even When You Ain't Having Fun

Another week gone by. So many plans, so many things I had to do, so many... and none of them done. Why? Because I've been absolutely exhausted and have done nothing but sleep all week and weekend. All I managed to wake up for was to shower, eat, and go to the can. Then it was back to the Monster to sleep again. I don't know what's going on, but it clearly needs to be checked out. I think it has to do with the diabetes, because I'm also getting these really strange red blotches all over my legs (poor circulation). Great. Another doctor's visit, another possibility of winding up on the floor. I have to have more blood tests, so maybe those will show something. The hell with it. Nobody wants to read about this shit. On to happier things.

Before I relate all the other birthday stuff, I want to thank all of you again. Many of you sent me emails, snail mail cards, gifts, and well-wishes of all kinds. I was truly, deeply touched by each and every thing. You all made me feel loved and a vital part of this community. I am so blessed to have you as my friends, confidants, companions, people who work with me in the shop. I had no idea when I began blogging that my presence here would even be acknowledged, let alone celebrated. You've made me happy beyond belief, and that's priceless. Thank you. :)

On to the rest of the stuff.

The birthday visit to the prison was amazing. Hubster didn't even let on about what he had planned, so I let it ride. When he dropped me off at the prison, Bill was waiting for me and drove me in. When I got inside, my boys were waiting and escorted me to the chapel. A few times, I came out of the office and caught them huddling over the table. Hm. All was revealed when the class began and they made me sit in the "big chair" (it's just more imposing than the others). I was then presented with two cards - one from the Indians, one from everybody else. Then the presents were given. The first one was a necklace and earring set, hand-beaded, with a perfectly rendered turtle at the end of the necklace and earrings. Then the large gift was given. They had procured two eagle feathers and made them into a smudge fan for me. I, of course, burst into tears. They don't know what to do with me when I do that. So two of them wiped my tears away while they shuffled their feet. Then another of my boys handed me a bracelet he had woven out of sinew and beaded. It has a wooden medicine wheel in the center which he carved out with a very small tool; he then singed the wood with a lighter. It's on my wrist as I type. In fact, I don't ever have to take it off. The more I wear it, the better. I stuck out my wrist for him to put it on. I don't think he's put jewelry on a woman in years; he was taken aback for a second, but then he gently placed it around my wrist and fastened it. Perfect. Then they all took turns playing me a birthday song. After the class, one of the men took me out back to show me the sweat lodge and the area where they drum and pray. It was amazing.

As many of you know, I'm allergic to bees and everything else which stings. They had planted a certain plant which attracts bees and butterflies. As we walked down the gravel path through the flower garden, all the bees transferred themselves from the plants to me. I freaked out, but my companion told me to relax. So I did, and I found myself surrounded by bees and butterflies, all keeping a distance of about a foot al around me. We looked like a cloud of flying beauty as we walked down the path. Medicine. It's all medicine. Now that I'm an elder, they respected me (which is how he described it). All I know is that they never touched me (other than the butterflies, who periodically landed on me), and kept guard over me while I was in the sacred area. Then he walked me out, and I left for the day.

Once I got in the car, Hubster gave me my card. On the front was an English Bulldog puppy. Inside, he wrote something like, "The bearer of this card is entitled to one puppy like the one pictured on the front". There was a lot of other mushy stuff, but that was my gift. She arrives this Thursday from Moscow, if you can believe it. She has a layover in Amsterdam, but the breeder has assured me she'll be just fine. I won't stop worrying until she's safely in my hands, though. Emma will be flying into San Francisco at 1:30 p.m., and we'll be there to pick her up, take her out of her carrier, and cuddle her. The breeder is selling her for a friend in Moscow who is also a breeder. What I've found out is that some of the finest Bullies come from that region. Normally, I would go to the pound to adopt a dog, but I've always wanted an English Bull, and they're hard to come by in the shelter. I've already got her signed up for puppy training classes, her first vet appointment, and will be shopping for all her goodies this week. She's also been microchipped, but I'll be sure to put a "regular" tag on her as well. Would you like to see a picture of her? Well, here she is, whether or not you want to see her. Humor me.





After the card presentation, we took off for Reno. We didn't have much money to gamble with, but it was nice to get away for a night. I won one small jackpot, which kept us gambling for the evening, but my luck pretty much stank. They've also switched all the machines over to tickets, so you don't get to haul around racks of dollar coins or tokens of larger denominations. Gone, too, are the buckets for quarters and other coins. They have that fake money-dropping sound when you cash out. Sigh. Another wonderful thing gone. They've even removed the trays and coin slots, so you can't drop a quarter in a machine as you pass by. It's beginning to feel like the Indian casinos. I don't go to Reno for that - I go to Reno for the neon, the noise, smoking at my table in the restaurant (now prohibited). I don't think I'll be going back too often. It's just not the same, and I don't understand why they can't leave some things alone. As for shopping opportunities, forget it. The kinds of things I shop for just aren't there. The only really good thing is that we found Emma on Hubster's computer while we were lounging in the room.

I'm working on a huge update for the shop, which I had hoped to have completely done by now. Since I've slept all week, though, I may not have it finished until tomorrow. I'll also be having a sale sometime this week, but I'm not sure when. I'll announce it here, as well as sending out a newsletter. Look for new vendors, updates to existing vendors, and my siggy yarn back in stock.

That's about it for now. We'll be busy early this week cleaning the house in preparation for Emma's arrival. I can't have crap on the floor for her to eat, and I'm not known for my housekeeping prowess. If I could afford it, I'd hire a maid, but that isn't happening any time soon. We've also got a possible crisis coming up with the house, but I'll tell you about that if and when it happens. We may also go to the county fair tomorrow night or Tuesday - I love the fair. Besides, I want to test out my gimp sign.

That means I'll have less opportunity to fall flat on my face going from the truck to the gate.

I'm Not Dead - Yet

Just a quick note to let you all know that I'm still alive and sort of kicking. I had a rather busy birthday, so I've been doing nothing but sleeping for the entire week. I'll be posting about all my adventures (and misadventures) either tonight or tomorrow, but I wanted to say hi and thank all of you who were kind enough to send me cards, presents, and well-wishes. They were appreciated more than you'll ever know. :)

Mark bought me a special gift. And it's not jewelry.

Back to the Monster for some quiet knitting before I work on the blog and/or shop. I'm so far behind, it's not funny. Sigh.

I'll talk to you all soon.

Reflections

Well, since this is the last day before I turn into a relic, I thought I would take stock of my life and see what's happened these past 50 years. Shit, that sounds old. If I were a car, I'd be an antique.

When you're faced with the prospect of knowing that your life is truly more than half over, it's a sobering thought. I know that a lot of people say that 50 is the new 30 or some such thing. Bullshit. 50 is 50, no matter how you look at it. I'm now a card-carrying member of AARP. I have a handicapped placard (which does, I must admit, come with all sorts of cool privileges). I'm beginning to see wrinkles appearing on my formerly smooth face.

I'm getting old.

The strange thing is, I don't feel any different than I did when I was 16 or 26 or 36 or 46. How am I supposed to feel? Illness aside, my mind is the same. I still listen to the same music. I still like fast sports cars, big diamonds, swimming pools, and walking around naked as much as possible. Is there some switch that's supposed to flip when, at 8:04 a.m. tomorrow morning, I enter the second half of my life? Is it time to wear red hats? What the hell am I supposed to do or feel that's different than now or the previous decades?

So in taking stock of all the things that have happened, I've lost one husband and married another; I've lost two houses; I've gotten a disease which is slowly and painfully killing me; I count a group of murderers among my dearest friends; I've made the most amazing friends online (who have showed their love by sending cards and/or gifts); I became sterile at age 27; I've lost more people to death than I would have imagined possible; I'm a grandmother to the two most amazing and beautiful children; my daughter is getting lazier and more disgusting by the day; I drive a convertible (finally!); I've lost many of the things that were near and dear to my heart because of the debacle that was my life two years ago; I find myself renting again and wondering if I'll ever own a house again; and so many other things that would take far too long to type out. I have learned one important thing, though. This is going to sound strange coming from me, the queen of excess and materialism, but here it is:

The material things don't mean shit. The important things are your family, friends, and being with the man you love more than life itself.

There. I said it. Don't tell Hubster that, or he'll make me give up the stash.

Seriously, though, I look at life a lot differently than I used to. I've had all the things which I thought were important. It turned out that even though it was painful and horrible to lose them, the really important thing is that Hubster is still here and always will be. He is my soulmate, the other half of me, the man who completes me and loves me for who and what I am, and the man who will walk with me into the twilight of my life. I have no illusions about living for another 40 years. Ain't gonna happen. If I hit 60, it'll be a miracle. But that's okay. I've lived an amazing life, complete with playing blackjack with a mobster (from the Gambino family, no less), having my boobs pop out of a black leather bustier onto a roulette table and knocking all the chips all over the table in Vegas, driving my brand new 2000 Corvette at 90 MPH through the Sierras, literally going from riches to rags and having to start over at 30, and still having men trying to pick me up at my age. There is so much more, so many more colors to the rich tapestry which has been my life, that I would have to write a book to contain it all. I can barely keep up with email, so the book will have to wait. I hope that the second half of my life will be as exceptional as the first.

I typically get depressed at birthdays because they usually suck. Because of all my friends (you guys), you've made me feel loved and special. My boys at the prison have something planned, so that will be special. I hope that Hubster has something planned, because he's the one who can make or break the day. But whatever happens, it's a landmark birthday. I'm now an Elder in the tribe, and I now command respect just because of that. Amazing.

I've been fortunate to live during a time when amazing things have happened. The first man on the moon. The first artificial heart. Amazing medical advances. Tolerance becoming more the norm than the exception. A shop which makes people happy. Too many things to list here, too.

So, my life is really a rich tapestry woven with decades of change, love, tears, heartbreak, friends, lovers, husbands, family gone, family come, animals who are family gone or going. The colors of my life are bright and constantly changing. They haven't changed to autumn colors yet; I'm not ready for that. I have too much left to do, too much left to give, too much. I'm a better person for all the shit that's happened, and I'd like to think that I've made a difference somehow, somewhere.

So now, on this, the last day of my 40's, I'm going to pack my knitting, my flute books, my flutes, my healing oils, and all the other things I take with me, and get ready to go to the prison. They'll be the first ones to celebrate with me, and I wouldn't want to be any place else. I love these men, and they love me. Where else would I be?

Well, maybe Vegas in the Hunka Hunka Burning Love Chapel renewing my vows.

But you know what? I can do that with Grandmother Moon as my witness, just me and Hubster, in the still of the night.

That sounds perfect to me.

SP12 Question No. 2

In the spirit of being a good secret pal person, I'm playing along with the questions of the week. Here is the second one:

As a kid, what did you look forward to most about summer vacation/break/holiday?

This was a tough one, mainly because I've been out of school for so long (32 years since I graduated from high school) that it took some real thinking (and you know how much that hurts). I decided to focus on high school instead of grammar school, because all I did in grammar school was sleep in, go swimming, and watch TV. Wow. High school was more interesting, mainly because of two things:

Boys and cars (and not necessarily in that order, but usually utilizing both at the same time).

Summer meant being able to go to a lot of parties (either with a lot of other people or private ones), going to the drive-in on a warm summer night and being able to rip off my uh... uh... let's skip that one...

Going to the fair, concerts at the Oakland Coliseum (Day on the Green, for those of you who lived in the Bay Area during the 70's and were a teenager then), being able to stay out really late, going to Santa Cruz to the Boardwalk and swimming in the ocean, vacations with the family (ick), and finally getting my own car (a '55 Chevy BelAir, all restored, jacked up in the back with Monroe gas shocks, and with slotted dish mag wheels) into which we crammed a bunch of people and went cruising with the 8-track blasting out of the two dinky speakers on the rear deck (and we all thought we were so cool). We would cruise through Livermore (their high school's mascot was the Cowboys - lots of ranches there at that time), and would yell out the window, "Come ride me, cowboy!". Oh geez.

Now I'm just hot and miserable and wait until winter comes around again. I could go cruising in my T-Bird with the top down, but I never know what will happen when I drive now.

God. Those were the days.

Secret Pal 12 Question

This question (and answer) are supposed to be put on my blog, so here goes:

What is your favorite summertime drink??

I'd have to say it's a toss-up between lemonade and limeade. Ice-cold and slushy. For me, they're the most refreshing things to drink when it's hot.