••• Friday, October 21, 2005

It Doesn't Always Suck... 

...to be me.

Last week my husband requested my presence, this weekend, on a trip north, to the cottage.

First, I sighed.
Then I said no.
Then I said maybe.
Then I said okay. Bastard.

I know I've said it before, so I'll just briefly rebitch. I hate coming home on a Friday afternoon, after a week of working with a fork in my eye, to bust a hump in preparation, so as to ensure we're on the road before the weekend traffic ensues.

But then I decided that with Thanksgiving break still a month away, I needed a bit of a holiday. So I took today off. And, aside from the torture of the 3-hour entrapment with the non-stopping-gum-flapping*, non-napping Cakers, I think I made the right decision.

Following is just a sampling of the ocular ambrosia to which we were privy, for nearly the entire journey.

This was on northbound 131:

This is the Betsie River, where it goes under 115.

And a rear view of 115:

Knitting Knuggets
I am almost done with the second sleeve on my cardigan. I didn't bring my blocking supplies, so finishing will have to wait. I know. I cried a little too.

However, I did pack a lovely weekend retreat project.** Hopefully, a real knitting post is forthcoming. Soon.

*This time the post-toddler-torture included a 5 minute fake sneeze fest, 10 minutes of "Bawk, Bawk, Bawk...I'm a chicken momma...bawk, bawk bawk...Momma? I'm a chicken..." And my favorite..."Momma, when I say 'momma,' you say 'Ana.' k? Momma? Momma!?!"
Momma? Ana?
Momma? Ana?
Momma! Ana!
Momma! Ana!
Mommamommamomma. Ananananna.

And all the while, I wondered if there is a 24-hour, emergency, outpatient, OB-GYN clinic up here, where I can maybe get my tubes untied. Then ripped out. And fed to a pack of wild boars.

**Am I the only one who finds selecting and packing the appropriate knitting shit the most stressful part of preparing to leave town? I mean, I can go a weekend without clean underwear, or makeup. But forget a key knitting project item? Weekend over.

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