Central Park Hoodie

As you can see, I have finished the back of my hoodie and am now working on the front left. After several attempts it was pointed out to me by Sophia that the pattern (ribbing section) was incorrect. I thought I was loosing my mind. I'm just glad it didn't happen while doing the back or I'm sure I would have given up.

So anywaze, have had a great weekend thus far. Had great food at Cheryl's. Her burgers were wonderful and Terry's salad was delicious. Sophia brought some bread that her mother made that was delicious and John made salsa.

Here's one more shot of the hoodies taken by Lisa.

I Think I Might Have Joined a Cult

I started my CPH this weekend. I started it initially last week, but my gauge was off so I was bummed and then Terry showed up at the store, and knitting genius that she is, she told me to just knit two (2) sizes bigger. I never would have thought of that.

So, Friday night while the girls were over, I started on it, which was a bad thing to do because I still have my sleeves to finish on my Elsbeth Lavold's Ruth sweater. Oh, and Friday over wine and food, Cheryl finished her Elsbeth Lavold Sweater. The picture I took doesn't begin to do the cables justice. It's just gorgeous.

So, after much wine and gumbo, (my equivalent to tea and sympathy) we looked at porn. I'M KIDDING. We just chatted and what not. I must admit I feel rather impotent as my homemade french bread did not rise so I had to make cornbread to go with my seafood gumbo. Which is a major faux pas. You have to have bread with gumbo and cornbread with hoppin' John. Any who we had a little get together because, as you all know, Laura is going off to college and in my family food is how we express love. So much love was poured into my Seafod Gumbo for Laura as she ventures off and we definitely need to plan a road trip to Portland, ladies!

Well, I better tidy up the house and dispose of the wine bottles before John gets home from San Diego. I have to admit it sure is cool having the house to myself on the weekends. Jacob even visited Friday (he owed me money) so he ate with us and opened the wine bottles and waited on the girls. I'm not naming any names, but one of the knitster sister was quite smitten with him BACK OFF LADY! He's my baby and he just barely got his braces removed. Hmmmm, maybe she has a thing for teeth.

PS Thank you Sophia for fixing the date on my camers.

I Will Do Anything To Get Out Of Work

So, I'm on my way to the gas station on my lunch hour, minding my own business and I run out of diesel. Ironically, I had told my boss before I left I was taking a long lunch. I had no idea. So, after I panicked, I called AAA, my boss, my husband (I get his voice mail) and my purchasing manager, (who is a race car driver), in that order.

AAA advised me they will be here in thirty minutes, and since I never miss an opportunity to knit, guess what I did? Exactly. I had all the stuff to knit myself a blanket, if need be. So, I'm knitting while blocking traffic, getting the darndest glares and my phone rings and the Tow Truck driver can't find me. Are you sure you're on Rice? Yes, I'm in front of Big T's Freightlines. Okay, I may have ran out of diesel, but I know where the hell I am.

The tow truck drivers shows up and I explain to him I was on my way to the gas station and I think I might have run out of diesel and he lectures me. Nervy little bastard. " Lady," he says, "do you know what you have to do when you run out of diesel?" "Yes", I say, "you have to prime the engine (I had just learned that from my purchasing manager btw.)which is why I have AAA." He was not amused. So he tells me I'll tow you where ever you want to go, but the gas station up the road is out of business and I'm not priming your engine. So, I decide he should tow me home as my husband has no problem priming my engine so I'm sure he can fix the diesel.

He got my truck ready to be towed. I look at the truck through the rear window and I am reminded that John and I were married in this truck at the drive thru in Vegas which reminds me that John and Sandy share the same birthday. Which makes me think, "I wonder what Sandy is doing?" So, I call Sandy from the cab of the truck and tell her what happened. We both agree Oy' vey what a day we're having and agree we should go knit, IMMEDIATLEY.

On the drive home the tow truck driver and I are talking, because as my brother always said, I would talk to a serial killer if I were standing next to him in line. He tells me about the decline of gas stations and how no one knows how to work on a car much less a diesel engine. He tells me about his friend, Leo, who worked as a mechanic for 20 years and now the gas station where Leo worked isn't going to have mechanics because they are being foreced to put in a small store. I ask, "Is it Leo from the Chevron on Hemlock and Victoria?" And it is! What a small world.

I make it home, Sandy picks me up and we're off for another adventure.

Say It Loud I Knit and I'm Proud

June 9th is is World Wide Knit in Public Day so I have a suggestion.

After reading and hearing about the horror stories of women who are denied the right to knit FOR A WHOLE DAY in courthouses across the nation, (which I believe falls under Cruel and Unusual Punishment) this travesty cannot continue, ladies. I could take somebody out with "War and Peace" (hardback, of course) for crying out loud, and they're worried about knitters?

I say we pack a picnic lunch, bring a blanket and chairs and knit in front of the Government Center in Ventura.

We could bring signs, like "don't unravel our rights" or something along those lines. Get T-shirts made for our first annual "knit-in". (It is actually the second annual knit in public day)

Allright knitster sisters, whose with me?

Be Nice To Someone In Retail Day

Someone equated my blog to a Seinfeld episode and now I completely understand the soup Nazi. I have been observing certain individuals at my local coffee shop and I can’t take it anymore. They are rude and I want to cause them bodily damage. For example, this one “lady” ordered a Fireside Chai and then she brings it back and wants “ice” because it’s too hot! Okay, lady, you don’t order a drink with fire anywhere in its’ name and then complain about the heat.

NO TEA FOR YOU!

And today a man walked up to the counter, WHEN IT WAS MY TURN TO ORDER, and asked if they could rinse his sunglasses off. What the hell. You can't walk your fat ass down to the bathroom and wash your own glasses? It’s a coffee shop! They are not your servants. They make you coffee, tea and the occasional smoothie. Which I still don’t get. Why would you go to a coffee shop for a drink that has no caffeine?

And them fat ass B’s that order a drink and then substitute the steamed milk with soy, but want EXTRA WHIP CREAM. What the hell? It's udder madness. And here's a hint. When you order your drink tell them the size first. It’s universal that they write on the cup what you want in the cup. So after you’re done telling them you want a carmel latte with ½ soy and ½ half-and-half with extra ice, a shot of espresso and double up on the whip cream. Do not huff and sigh and stomp your size 9 squeezed into a 7 ½ pump when they ask you again after they finally break the freakin code as to what size you want. For the love of god!

My point is, what the fuck was my point? Damn, now I’ve lost my train of thought. Oh here it is now. Be nice to the people in retail. They don’t make the big bucks and they didn’t sign up to clean your glasses or watch your kid running amock after you've gotten the snot nosed little brat hopped up on hot chocolate.

Which, I swear to G-d if that kid runs by me one more time I'm tripping his little ass.

Mother's Day 2007

I woke up to the sound of barking dogs at 6 AM. I could hear a sound at the back door like someone was trying to break in. I went to investigate and there was Jacob standing at the back door, juggling a bouquet of pink roses and a card while trying to fight the dogs off. They were so excited to see him.

I called off the hounds and let him in, eventually. I put the roses in water and went to brush my teeth and came out to find him fast asleep in my bed. Hank guarded him while I went to get coffee. I made him breakfast (sausage and eggs) while listening to Green Day.

He ate and showed me how to work the DVD player, again, and then it was time for him to leave for work. We sat in the garden for a moment, my head on his shoulder, and watched the hummingbirds flutter about and talked a bit. He told me how he rememberd when I taught him how to play catch, how we use to lay on the grass and watch clouds, and when I taught him how to roll down a grassy hill. We even laughed about the time I chased him with an axe.

And then he really had to go. I came back into the house and rearranged my flowers and read my card. and I bawled like a baby.

It's the best cry I've had in a long time.

I Am Technologically Retarded

I have had the television on mute for the last 45 minutes (Note to self: Have Laura teach me how to use DVD player.) listening for a fucking beep. That's right. A beep. I thought it was the microwave. Nope. Then I checked the smoke detector only to discover it's not there. (scary music plays in background)

So I'm all alone on a Saturday night (John is staying in San Diego until tomorrow) and I am going insane because I cannot locate a beep. I stand in the hallway with my arms acrossed my chest lying in wait like a stalker and then I hear it again! It's coming from the office area. I probably looked like Barney Fife when I turned that corner and saw the computer and the printer were both on. Aha! So I check them both and no beep. And then I look down and to my horror I discover it is my new fucking phone. It beeps? (scary music gets louder)

How retarded am I? Apparently Jacob called again! He left a message to see if I was okay while John was gone.

My child had the ability to do a good deed and PISS ME OFF in one shot.

Damn, he's good.

I Think My Sweater is Possessed

As you can see, I'm just at the point on my sweater where we left off when I had to rip it back a ways. And now I can't find my freakin book! I have looked everywhere!

And this morning when I went to take a photo to post my progress my computer wouldn't open my scandisc stating the disc was full when I plugged it in. So I had to go to My Computer and find my removable thingamagig and find the picture and open it and save it my desktop because my photo program (Picassa) wouldn't open it.

Does any one see a pattern here? It's fucking mocking me.

And ironically, I had a dream about blogging last night. I had a dream about some indigenous people that lived off the earth and they had three black cats that helped them hunt and in my dream I posted about them on my blog, but failed to provide a link, and eveyone thought I made them up. What the fuck?

And am I getting paranoid or has anyone beside me noticed that we never get the same waiter/waitress at Mimi's twice? Do they have to draw straws? Do they hire a new person just to serve us on Thursdays? And what is up with that strange man who comes to our table every freakin Thursday? Quite frankly, he freaks me out.

So, back to my sweater. I wasn't going to start anything until I finished this sweater. Next on my list is the Cult Classic Central Park Hoodie and a baby blanket for one of my guys at work who is going to have is first child. And now I'm at a stand still. Do I break down and buy the book again knowing I will find it as soon as I bring it into the house? Do I start something else and risk forgetting where I left off and completely screwing this sweater up? (not that I can't all on my own, mind you.) Am I posting extraneous bullshit in hopes that the cat box will clean itself?

Stay tuned.

We Are Not Amused

She looks like she wants to beat him like biscuit dough. It was embarassing enough that the waterhead retard, back in 1991 when his father was president, quipped to the Queen, "I'm the black sheep of the family. Who's yours?" Who knew the Queen was privvy to the first Bushism?

Fast forward to 2007 and not only does he damn near place her on the throne since the 1800's, but, wait there's more. He winked at the Queen.

For some reason when I saw that picture I could immediately hear Sandy's voice in head.

"Well for crying out loud you don't wink at the Queen. What were you thinking?"

Abstract Rantings

I came home tonight after spending a great evening with the knitster sisters to a quiet house. The girls and I had great laughs, the food was okay, the waiter was cute and I joked about the funny things I would put on my blog tonight.

This wasn't on the list and if you're expecting funny, look away. This is extremely "depressing", for lack of a better word. I don't even know what to call it.

Like I said, I came home to a quiet house. John and Hank were in bed so I turned off the television and decided to go through the bills. Among the bills, and other extraneous crap that is deliverd to my house, I noticed a small, but soon to be powerful envelope. One which I hesitated to open upon reading the return address. It was from my sister and my brother-in-law.

Their lives have been forever altered in such a manner that I still cannot even fathom. To say I cannot wrap my fucking brain around it would be an understatement. Bill's daughter, Rebecca, was murdered about a month ago by a man. Her cowardly husband, who was soon to be an ex, did the plotting, while some other slime-of-the earth carried out the deed. They will remain nameless, because evil deserves no fucking recognition and may they all ROT IN HELL!


I don't even feel right writing about this, but when I opened that envelope fully expecting to see the words "thank you" but instead I gazed upon her face I felt like I had been punched in the stomach. I don't know what it is I am experiencing, but the intense expression on her face, the sadness in her eyes, the manner in which she holds her head is haunting me.

So Many Questions

My grandson Eli, spent the weekend. Today went something like this. Eli "What happens if you put honey on you?" Me" You would get sticky." Eli "what happens if you run outside?" Me "The bees would get you." Eli "why?" Me "Bee's like honey. And speaking of bees, did you know that 90% of our food supply is based upon bees pollinating plants and there was a recent study performed and there is a shortage of bees that could affect our food supply? Eli" Can I have some juice, Grandma?"

Nice try kid, but you are dealing with a professional. Just ask your father and three uncles.

Yesterday we went to see Spiderman 3. Not something I would pick out, but when I'm in grandma mode all logic goes to the wind. It's in the bi-laws. The paragraph right after never question a grandma's statistics. So we had popcorn and icee's and something chewy and extremely sour which made us make funny faces each time we had one and we did it over and over again and giggled until the music got scary and Eli would cover his ears, but still watched the movie. That's a new one.











We went home and I bought him his first glove and we played catch in the front yard. He has a pretty good arm and with more practice eventually he will throw it somewhere in my location. He's only five.














Then came time for chores. He watered the garden and wanted to know why did the cat's kill a lizard. (My garden is littered with lizard remains. I will spare you photos) So, I explained how cats hunt. And then he discovered that when sprayed, water makes a rainbow. "how come?" Okay I admit it, I made something up. I lied to a child. But I'm tired and I haven't knitted in two days and after questions like "why can't apples swim?" and "you said I could have juice and I want pickle juice." And two days of Spongebob(which by the way is not a new form of contraception) and I was a Teenage Robot, there's gotta be something in the by-laws for that one. I think I need absolution and I'm not even Catholic.

Public Displays of Candor

I spent today at the WCAB ON MY FREAKIN DAY OFF! Why, you ask? Because I was served a subpoena that stated I was to be there at 8:30 AM so, naturally, I was there at 8:15 AM not wanting to be late, which would be rude and the freakin judge moseys in at 10:30AM!

Don't ask me why, but I just can't take a man wearing a robe seriously.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. So we're waiting on the judge and there were at least 5 lawyers and several witness and out of all these people this laywer named Jimmy Page (I'm not making this up) starts telling me about his days as a roadie for The Doors. He told me about the first of many times he dropped acid. It was legal at the time, he pointed out, and it was on a sugar cube. He told me he got concerned when he saw a blue light bulb come out of his head. He also told me that Jim Morrison has been reincarnated as a cat that has been seen sleeping on Jim Morrison's headstone.

Your Honor? May I be dismissed?

He told me about the time Grace Slick kicked his ass and she drives a white VW Rabbit with Grace on the license plate. This happens to me all the time (these displays of candor by perfect strangers) and I don't mind them, but it seems that others around me are alarmed or at the very least uncomfortable by these displays of public candor. I don't know if they think I'm uncomfortable or what. Maybe it's my aura or perhaps I look like a nut and that is what draws them to me. Oh, and speaking of nuts, he also told me that his aunt, who was mentally ill, was let out of a Mental Institute in the LA area and was given a one way bus ticket to Vegas during the Reagan Adminstration! Can you believe that shit? They sent her to VEGAS? And her family, in California, then had to retrieve her. Does anyone know if this is factual? If so, I'm pissed. I made my horse stand in the hot sun to watch his funeral procession go by and I would not have done so had I known he let mentally ill people go to Sin City. I mean, a field trip would be okay, but dumping them in the desert is not cool.

So, like I said, the judge shows up at 10:30 just in time to ask a few questions, let everybody introduce themselves, get settled and the next thing you know we're breaking for recess. I thought, "Cool! Who wants to play Dodge Ball?"

We went to TGIF's and our lawyer sprang for lunch which was, to quote Laura, "Sweet". Our lawyer, who was previously dumbfounded by Jimmy Page's public display then went on to tell me she is a Hindu and her son just married a women who practices jainism. Which, for some reason, made me not feel guilty after I had ordered the Jack Daniels Burger, being she was Hindu and all.

So, we got back from lunch where we waited on the judge again and I overheard the damndest things. These laywers were discussing the new language on amputations. Amputations? My ears picked up, as I've been honing my eavesdropping skils at Mimi's on a regular basis. Apparently, it's not a limb anymore. It's a bone fragment. Tissue removed by means of microscopic/orthoscopic surgery. One lawyer said her client had a cyst removed and according to the new language THAT was considered an amputation. At that point, I interrupted and pointed out that by their definition I had performed an amputation on myself when I removed an unsightly blackhead and then I added that I was going to have to look up some morticians for some uplifting conversation. Lawyers for the applicant are a gruesome lot.

Then they discussed that four year old who was tackled by a football player and what kind of lawsuit would come out of it. It was a pretty disgusting display. Where's a sugar cube when you need it? Again, I had to speak my mind and state that at some point people need to take responsibility for their own actions and suck it up.

It was like blasphemy.

Eventually I was sworn in and was questioned and the applicants attorney didn't even cross examine me! What the fuck? That just can't be good.

Oh, and I was KIP'ing (knitting in public) the whole time and I gave the name of our LYS to two lawyers who I did not observe drooling over potential football lawsuits and amputations.

Luna-Tic

Tomorrow's full moon is the Flower Moon and I certainly have an abundance of flowers in bloom, so I think the name is quite appropriate.

I love the full moon and not just because lunatic and loony are derivatives of luna. You just have to admire something that has the ability to cause gravitational pulls on large bodies of water.

I love the stories of were-wolf transformations during the full moon. And little green men and defiant women, like the Chinese moon goddess Heng O, symbol of the cold and dark yin, who defied her husband, stole half of his mortality elixer and fled to the moon.

Okay, it's damn near 12 o'clock and I'm writing about gravitational pulls and full moons. I definitely had too much coffee with the girls. Or did I?

Muwahahahahahahaha