Icehole Drivers
Friday's drive to work was the worst I'd experienced all winter. I don't usually take the expressway unless I know it will be safe and dry. Friday I didn't know it wasn't safe and dry until I was already well into my route.

And far from safe and dry it was. It was windy, icy, snowy and blowy. As soon as my AWD treads hit the pavement, I could feel it was going to be a bumpy ride.

Lucky for me, I was immediately able to nestle behind a semi-truck with his flashers on, evidently in fair warning that he was going slow, no matter. I followed him the entire 14 mile stretch to work.

In fact, he got off at the same exit I did. I gave him a nod of appreciation at the stop light, but I'm pretty sure he had no idea who the hell I was. Maybe he thought he was going to get lucky at the next vacant parking lot. Or not. He looked only about 30 years old and sometimes I forget I'm almost 50 and no longer hold much of a hey-there-trucker-you-want-summa-this? kind of allure.

But anyway, I was appreciative of my little tug boat leading me to safe harbor. This is especially true in light of the gazillion asshole drivers that were going too fast to notice the half-dozen or so recent spin-outs, resting in the ditch, or the flashing lights of police and rescue vehicles along the side of the highway. Neither did they seem to recognize that what appeared to be harmless moisture on the road, was in fact a thin glaze of ice. ::Clue: If it's 20 degrees or colder, not counting a windchill, that water on the road is probably ice.::

Friday through Saturday, we were dumped upon with another 10-12 inches, leaving poor Cheddar with not much room to twirl for his morning poo.



I missed the shot I intended, which was him sitting in that snow hole staring forlornly towards his favorite pooping grounds, now a snow pile too far.

Hustle and Flow
All that being said, ain't no blizzard blizzy enough to keep me from one of the biggest yarn events in the history of our little tri-state region. ::And all that being said, ain't no blizzard blizzy enough to keep me from any hyerbolic frenzy. And I don't know exactly to which tri-state area I'm referring, but I've always wanted to use that tri-state term in a hyerbolic, frenzied kind of way, and personally, I'm glad to have it out now out of the way.::

The Threadbears were having a huge sale, with 20-70% off a broad selection of yarns. But they weren't giving away the farm, as I erroneously surmised in an email to Rob, the previous day. Upon my arrival and after a couple big hugs, Rob was quick to assure me, again, that they were not giving away the farm or the yarn or any other damn thing, which I read as a warning to not stuff my pockets with farms or yarns or any other damn thing, without expecting to pay. Duly noted.

It's been over a year since my last trip to Lansing, and I was not disappointed. After breaking up a verbal-turned-physical altercation between Matt and some guy, I had a lovely shop-about, followed by a recap with Rob of my infamous period piece. Said recap included my yelling "I need a tampon that sucks!" to a complete stranger sitting halfway across the room, in earshot of several other strangers.

Rob made me.

::Gosh. I'd been thinking maybe I need to get out more, but now I'm thinking maybe, uh, no.::

Between the inappropriate disclosures and unsolicited therapeutic interventions, I also managed to snag myself some yarn.

REAL yarn. The kind REAL knitters use.
And it went something like this:



Ummm-hmmm. This is not a filiment of your imagination. Marcia got the shit. Lorna's Laces Lion and Lamb.

Ummm-hmmm. That's right. Me and Lorna's Laces. A perfect match. Like doorknobs and a box. Bags and hair. Baby Jesus and butter.

I also grabbed some Berroco Hip-Hop at 70% off.



I've been fussing all day today, trying to get a good read on an intended purpose for the Lion and Lamb stuff. Rob pointed out that this is the yarn for the Clapotis,a pattern that never seemed my cuppa tea. But I'm definitely thinking a lacey spring shawl or drapey, oversized scarf. And I might now be regretting putting back that fourth skein.

I definitely need to not stay away so long this time, guys, and maybe even come up with some new interesting blog posts in the meantime. Heh. Something in a dangling 'gina, perhaps?

Fur the Love of Feet
La is having a contest. All you have to do is post pictures of cute critter feet from your household, and drop her a comment to come and see.

So here are some pictures guaranteed to give you paws.





Work is wicked crazy these days, and will likely remain so from here through mid-May. Or more. Just sayin'. That. What I just said. I did.

Speaking of no sayin' just sayin' go say hi to Marin, a new blogger I found in my site meter. ::And boy, was she happy to see me. Can you imagine being stuck in my site meter? On a Sunday?:: Just make sure you read her slow. If you go too fast, your heart might start racing and you'll find yourself having to take a break and a deep breath, about halfway through. Of course, if you're not double dosing on cough medicine, it might be entirely different for you.

I apologize for the behemoth post. With my current and upcoming employment demands, this was the only way for me get caught up on my sharing.

But now I'm done.

Okay.

And I'm really leaving.

And I really mean it.

This time.

Starting...now.

No, wait.

Okay.

Now.

Labels: From My Loins, Fur, Hustle and Flow, With Grace My Ass