••• Thursday, July 01, 2004

If Icon Do it
Socon you.

I think it's a fairly good likeness, in an anime-esque kind of way. The link to this program is courtesy of Amy. It's pretty fun, but if you are unfamiliar with this type of thing (That would be me. That would not be Amy),you may have to get through by the pixel of your pants, as there aren't many directions. And whenever I inadvertently moused over a sponser link, the ad would open and I'd lose all my entries and have to start over. I finally identified the touch/tap sensitive keyboard mouse as the culprit, and quit using it.

Vacation Drudgery
We've been blessed with day after day of sunny vacational weather, but it's been unseasonably cool. We who enjoy the great northern air, however, are a hearty lot. 68 degrees, on vacation, in Michigan? Pass the SPF!

The Cakers is having a blast and all that shivering and chattering tires a body out, making timely bedtimes smooth like buttah. A secondary advantage of the cold is that, because mama is unable to distinguish between sunburn and the purple mottled discoloration of hypothermia, Cakers has been overslathered with sunscreen.

My husband and I believe that a proper work ethic is instilled at a very young age. Here is The Cakers earning her vacation keep by by hauling water she will later have to heat to wash mommy and daddy's martini glasses. Assuming, of course,that she scavenges enough fire wood for heating the water. ::Those buckets are full, by the way. Get a load of those guns...::

Here's a sample of how clear our lake water is. These are my dogs, standing in four feet plus some inches of water.

Got Dirt?

It's a Bug's Butt
I can't/won't knit on the beach, so needles to say, I haven't been doing much knitting this vacation. I have, however, been able to work in the Rebecca pattern during a few of our intra-vacation mini-trips. And I'm happy to say that I'll soon be breaking up this circle of fun ribs, to shape the armholes.

Confession: This project has suddenly become loathesome. Hateful. Odious. Between the horizontal ribbing, the woolieness of the yarn and the tubular nature of the product, I can't shake the impression that I'm knitting a caterpillar skin, inch by inch. It's a wormy feeling, I'm unable to shed.

But I'm sticking with this one, dammit, in spite of my bleeding knuckles from the yarn's roughage and the nausea brought on by the gestalt effect of sensory displeasure overload. And I'm not just finishing this for me. I'm doing this for my knitting sistern and brethren who share with me the plight of a most horrible affliction. Finishunease Disease. (Yeah, Teresa and the person who recently emailed me about our common unfinished business habits: This Bugs for you!)

From the Imma Skeert Parent/Cakers Says the Darnedest Things file:
Daddy: Five minutes to bedtime.
Cakers: I wanna play foosball.
Daddy: Okay, five minutes of foosball and then you're going to bed. Okay?
Cakers: Okay.
Daddy: Now. What's going to happen after we're done playing foosball?
Cakers: I Scream.
Daddy: You Betcha.


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