I wish I could tell you about all that has beseiged me, this week. But I can't.

Instead, I bring you my all-time favorite, one-balled* wonder, for today's Eye Candy.

May Your Days Be Furry and Bright.


*And the one is borrowed, poor guy.

Labels: Christmas, Fur

Even though I've spent the last five days being tag-teamed by a bevy of bean hole harvesters, some of us are having the best week ever.

I kick...



...stretch...


...and kick.



And stuff.



::You really gotta click-to-big on the cat shots.::

Today's segment of Eye Candy Friday was sponsored by our friend, The Tree.



::Admit it. You really love that one.::

Labels: eye candy Friday, Fur

1) Had a great Mother's Day. Cabana pulled together a fine spread of t-bones on the grill and aspergrass and I hardly had to do a thing but sit and grin. Okay, I helped a little by soaking the asparagus real good, because I happent to think that sand belongs between butt cheeks and 'ginas, and not the in the folds of a favorite veggie.

2) Got lots done on my second Ariann sleeve, which started out looking good but is now a perfectly puckered twin to the first sleeve. This sleeve in the round stuff is kind of painful. It's like singing the camp song Found a Peanut. It starts out fun and energetic, but by the time you "died anyway" you're ready to grab the bottle opener and head for the 99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall.

3) Cakers scored three goals at the soccer game on Saturday. She was thrilled on the inside, of course, but acted all shy and stuff on the outside. While she definitely got her game on, she also benefited from a little help from the opposing team's goalie, who managed to tie himself to the goal net with the string of his shorts, then couldn't get it undone. It was only after our team scored another goal and the poor kid brought the net down on himself while defending his post, he was set free by his father. Who was not happy.

Tie game?

4) At home, after the game, Cakers did what any 5 year-old would do on a beautiful Saturday afternoon: Sit atop a pile of wood chips, on a Talbots dress bag.



5) I bought some yarn. It's Lavold's Cotton Patine in a purply color. I bought it online, on sale, but can't remember where and for now, I don't care. It's headed to the Sahara. That is, if I can remember the password to open the pdf file.

I tried to get a clear shot in the outdoor light, but the Ched was having none of it.



6) Speaking of Cheddar, we had a health scare with him last week. It started out as a little limp but when he started walking like a drunken Cheesehead ::Is that redundant?:: we took him to the vet. My first and most serious fear was that he had cancer, which the vet was worried about herself, until the x-rays came back. Seems our boy has really bad arthritis, which is better than cancer, but can be debilitating.

The vet put him on a medication that seems to be helping, but there are some health risks with it, which I should NOT have looked up on the internet. But I did. Ahem. To me, the risk is worth it because if we didn't treat this as aggressively as possible, we'd be facing a quality of life decision about now. Labs gotta walk.

He definitely is feeling better, even though first thing in the morning he's still gimpy and his back legs tend to wind around each other, like a twist tie. The weird thing is, aside from the limping he showed no other signs of being uncomfortable or otherwise "pouty" as labs are wont, when feeling wonky.

7) Gotta go.
Have a Monday, everyone.

Labels: Fur, My Daughter Scares Me, When Knitting You is Hurting Me

Or How to Have a Perfect Friday Afternoon
1) Come home from work, change into exercise garb so as to catch a walk before dinner.

2) Go out for ice cream before dinner, instead.

3) Come home from ice cream store, and announce to family that you're going for a walk, and you really mean it this time.

4) Grab camera and join family in the front yard, instead.











::Psst. Pretend you don't see the Camo Cat in the picture. She'd be mortified if she knew you could really see her.::

::Psst. Don't forget to click, for phull photo impact.::


Why Did You Take This Picture?
1) Because the distortion of the glass took about 6 years off my gut.

2) Those are shorts from last summer, and they still fit me. This is the first out of three springs, that I haven't had to go up a pant size.



P.S. I've been crazy busy and tired and am way behind in my online world. I hope to get to some correspondence this weekend. After soccer and cleaning and cooking and working on a report. And a walk. Yeah. Right after the walk. Heh.

Labels: eye candy Friday, Fur, Pho-Ho'

I borrowed Cakers' camera when I took those pictures for the Typical Day post. This shot was one of several that unloaded along with mine. I'm not sure what Cheddar is thinking but that girl has the look of love.

Labels: Fur, My Daughter Scares Me

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

Hat's a Wrap



You may recall my plan to cleanse my knitting psyche while reducing yarn stash, by knitting hats for charity through the end of January. Those are the last two of my cache total of six hats.

I just love The Player. Not only does it produce an upbeat product, the larger stripe blocks create the cognitive illusion of quick knitting. Okay, it is a quick knit anyway, but it feels even quicker with the stripes.

Pattern: Bonne Marie's The Player
Yarn: Encore worsted, two strands held together.

I used a size 10 needle instead of a 10.5 because, well, it was the needle sitting closest to me. On the multi-color stripe number I added stitches and length to fit a larger noggin.

The hats are going to a local homeless shelter. We're currently under a winter storm warning and windchills over the next two days are dipping below the zip.

How Now, Knit Cow?
I had hoped the knitting of the hats would open my dried pea brain to the richly reconstituting forces of the knitting universe, whereby the path to my elusive happy knitting grounds would be illuminated.

Evidently the universal muses in question have checked themselves into a co-dependency rehab program and I've been told to figure it out on my own. So I resigned myself to the pain of my reality: I'm in a boner fried knitting funk.

Before starting anything new, I have resolved to finish my Polar. As of last night, I am up to the arm pits on the front piece. I was planning on adapting the collar to be more of a turtle and less of a cowl.



At this time, however, I continue to possess a strong urge for math-free complication-free knitting, so have decided to go with a collar like this:



I guess you can't see it well, but it's like a boat-neck turtle. I'm sure there's a real name for it, but apparently I'm also in complication-free blogging mode and not inclined to look it up. The collar is knit as part of the sweater front and back, and sewn together at the sides.

Polar is an easy knit sweater and goes fast, but I'm bored out of my ever-lovin' with it and am currently looking forward for some signs-of-spring knitting.

Arianne is my first choice in that department, but I've yet to find some yarn for the project. You may recall that one of my intendments for 2007 is to knit at least one garment in the yarn suggested by the pattern designer, Arianne was also my selection for that honor.

Last weekend there was a huge sale at a local yarn store ::60% off all yarn for part of the day:: but during a pre-sale recon flight, I found they didn't have enough of my desired brands and/or colors.

With a focus on reducing my stash this year, I'm wasn't going to settle for sale-available-only yarn, so I skipped the sale altogether. Besides, this particular yarn store drives me crazy with how they organize, and it's small and I wasn't inclined to be fighting the crowds for yarn I neither want or need, because it's on sale.

I was disappointed that I wasn't going to have some New-Project yarn to motivate me through Polar, but I'll survive. I was able I to fondle some of Bonne Marie's recommended yarns for Arianne. After feeling some up and feeling some down and plucking a couple from my velcro cuffs, the hands-down winner was Berroco Cotton Twist in Sea Glass. But they only had two skeins of it at the yarn store, so I'm looking elsewhere.

All that being said, I think my first post-Polar project is going to be the baby Williamsbro for Cakers, from Cornelia Tuttle.



This sweater will not be made up in the required Noro yarn, but the lovely and washable and practically Cakers-proof Encore, instead.

Or maybe I'll just take all my knitting and stuff it in a bag and lock it in a closet and take up lounge singing.

Got Runs?

I'm walking some ass, my peeps.




Fur Goodness Sakes



Now I gotta see a weatherman about a snow day.

Labels: Charity Knits, Fur, Runagogo, When Knitting You is Hurting Me

Spring Break is offically here. This morning I woke up with an entirely different crowd than the one I went to bed with.



Speaking of spring, we had temps in the mid 70's yesterday. Twas a beaut.

Allow Me to Ponchificate
(no silver hammer required)

Yeah, I did it. I had to.

And you were quite right, Norma. It took only three shakes of a lambs tail, and I’m a better person for it.



Thanks to everyone who offered observations and advice on my ongoing Blaze sleeve peeve. I think I really just needed to take a little spring break from the thing.

In fact, Kelle, by your comment, I half thought you had been digging around in my brain’s drawer of underthings, until you took me Blaze sleeving to infinity. Okay, maybe in that tiny box, way in the back of the drawer of my brain’s underthings, there is/was that fear/fantasy that the sleeve extravaganza will never end. You win. Again.

Poncho Specs: Pattern is adapted from The Yarn Harlot's. Yarn is Lorna's Laces bulky superwash, accented with Paton's chunky acrylic blend. (Purchased from the Fabulous T-Bear's)

I'll try to get her into the dang thing later, for a picture.

And no, I didn't send the Blaze or the diaphragms (I had no idea there was a "g" spot in that word) to Miss Wane's. Rabbitch was right, the Women of the Cloth have no use for birth control, and I fear what use they'd find for my treasured alpaca.

Broke Spring
I’m revisiting another spring break tradition this week, by catching a case of the Bladder Wrack. Yup. I got the Pissin' Moans. And it’s been a bloody scream.

After an unsuccessful day of attempted home remedies, I finally dragged the burning front of my sorry ass to the Urgent Piss Care center, late last night.* Of course, the only reason I went was for those magic pills. You know, the raison-colored beauties that provide instant solace to the rotting hole, and turn your piss to Paas orange. Actually, the color is more akin to mercurochrome, but gosh darn if I don’t love the allure of alliteration, first thing in the morning.

Well, all this talk of whizzin’ has me needing to go. Literally. We’re heading to the cottage late this afternoon, which means I have things to pack, in addition to orange to piss. Come to think of it, I don’t think my husband’s ever traveled with a wife gone wack with bladder wrack. This trip could forever give PMS a good name, around here.

Melissa and Susie: In that picture of the Cakers (previous post), she is most definitely trying to open the battery encasement on the Sit-n-Spin. Unfortunately, it was not to turn the bloody thing off, but to change the worn out batteries on the blissfully silent beast. For the record, she found the screwdriver on her own, and commenced without parental supervision. Of course, after I took the photo, I gave her a bit of mother's what not.

*There’s a painful saga to be shared from this pis-adventure. Soon as I get a minute. Or two. This spring break be whizzing by. (Gawd, this medication makes me sick. 10 days of it! Yech. I thought I heard that they developed some 3-day treatment for this affliction?)

Have a Wednesday. And please, everyone, Hump with Caution.

P.S. Kim has been having inconsistent difficulty viewing photo images in my posts. If any of you are having similar difficulties, would you please let me know?

Labels: Fur, Knit Done, My Daughter Scares Me

Keeping Abreast
I don't know where to start.

I've read that our poor tiny earth continues to vibrate in response to the recent, massive earthquake. I'm wondering if all this subliminal wiggling is taking a psychic toll on my home collection of beasts and children.

At 4 a.m. this morning The Cakers woke up, ready to greet her day in the usual way: Watching toonies in bed with daddy.

She didn't take the rejection well.

And bless my husband's fineassed soul for being the first responder to our little nocturnal emission. But sometimes that sweet man-o-mine is just a little too sweet.

At four in the morning, you don't open a can of delicate negotiation when dealing with a toddler. At four in the morning, ya need a can of whoopass. Of da momma variety.

Outta my way, I snarled past my bewildered, beboxered hunk.

Momentarily silent, The Cakers tried to stare me down.

It’s bed time. Lay down.

No.

I’m going to turn off your night light and shut the door. Let me know when you're ready to lay down and be quiet.

After 30 seconds of wailing, the sweet plea was heard and peace prevailed.

Back in bed, just moments after I fell back to sleep, I woke to the sound of Bella the Cat plucking her way across our box spring, downunder. This was followed with a quick "pluck around the world” along the box spring parameter, just before she jumped on my head to poke her nose in my nostril and breathe me deep.

After I got the plucky little furbitch settled ,The Man Who Lives in Cheddar’s Mouth* started up with the Babylonian baloney. Evidently the The Man Who Lives in Cheddar’s Mouth chattered to Cheddar that if he licked his empty ball sockets for 17 consecutive hours, his balls would grow back.

Evidently Cheddar believed him. Starting...now.

The subsequent hushing of the dog and entourage woke up the Bella, who required a couple sips from my left nostril before going back to sleep.

Clock says 5:15.
I say fuck.
30 minutes to liftoff.

Once up and showered, I was faced with the task of finding an appropriate costume outfit into which I could handily stuff my ever burgeoning breastial units.

Seriously. It's a daily enterprise. My D cups are now D lids. And I’m running out of things to wear. If I go slightly loose and drapey, I look, well, slightly loose and drapey. Like a cute little training tent from L'Ecole d'Omar.

Form fitting looks best these days, but then I feel like I’m bringing the kids to school for show and tell.

Today I went with a tight, black v-neck sweater and flouncy skirt.

Show and Tell meets Booby Tuesday.

Goodbye Booby Tuesday
I could hang a coat on you.
Seems you grow with every new day.
Are they real, or tissue?

Tuesday's Child is Full of MEME
I found this over at the Queens of MEME. While there, I was also able to preview my recent comment contest winnings (item 2, I presume?), the arrival of which I eagerly await. And yes La, it does pay to be a smart ass. And I suspect we have both earned a good wage over the years.

THREE NAMES I GO BY:
1. Marcia
2. Marcy
3. Mom

THREE SCREEN NAMES I HAVE HAD:
1. GumInHerHair
2. RubbitsTummy
3. DeadSeaSquirrels

THREE THINGS I LIKE ABOUT MYSELF:
1. Humor
2. I smell dead people
3. Good instincts

THREE THINGS I DON'T LIKE ABOUT MYSELF:
1. Disorganized
2. Easily suspicious
3. That my boobs won't stop growing

THREE PARTS OF MY HERITAGE:
1. Dutch
2. Irish
3. Pig Latinese

THREE THINGS THAT SCARE ME:
1. Spiders
2. Mothers of spiders
3. Passing semis on the freeway

THREE OF MY EVERYDAY ESSENTIALS:
1. Knitting
2. Eyebrow tweeze time
3. Coffee

THREE THINGS I AM WEARING RIGHT NOW:
1. Sweet Honesty
2. Smartass grin
3. Minimally effective minimizer Bra

THREE OF MY FAVORITE BANDS OR MUSICAL ARTISTS (at the moment):
1. Van Morrison
2. REM
3. Counting Crows

THREE OF MY FAVORITE SONGS (at the moment):
1. Into The Mystic - Van Morrison
2. Under Pressure - Queen and David Bowie
3. Drop it Like its Hot-Snoop Dogg

THREE NEW THINGS I WANT TO TRY IN THE NEXT 12 MONTHS::
1. To finish a sweater, and like it.
2. Not be such a loner
3. Gourmet cooking class.

THREE THINGS I WANT IN A RELATIONSHIP:
1. Trust
2. Reciprocation
3. Foreplay. Lotsa.

TWO TRUTHS AND A LIE:
1. I redated and subsequently dumped every longterm bf who dumped me.
2. First Lady Betty Ford came to my high school graduation, apparently intoxicated.
3. I love watermelon.

THREE PHYSICAL THINGS ABOUT THE OPPOSITE SEX (or same) THAT APPEAL TO ME:
1. Left Butt cheek
2. Right Butt cheek
3. Smile

THREE THINGS I JUST CAN'T DO:
1. Go to bed on time
2. Stop worrying that I have OCD
3. Get the laundry done.

THREE OF MY FAVORITE HOBBIES:
1. Knitting
2. Reading
3. Skiing

THREE THINGS I WANT TO DO REALLY BADLY RIGHT NOW:
1. Have a week all to myself.
2. Lose 15 pounds.
3. Tweeze my eyebrows (I lost my favorite tweeze and can't stop touching 'em)

THREE CAREERS I'M CONSIDERING:
1. Crossing guard
2. Hoochy Coochy girl
3. Queen

THREE PLACES I WANT TO GO ON VACATION:
1. Cornwall
2. Paris
3. Bahamas

THREE KID'S NAMES:
1. Duncan
2. Jackie
3. Ivy

THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO BEFORE YOU DIE:
1. Learn to play the piano
2. Visit Stonehendge
3. Figure out if you're trying to tell me something here.

THREE WAYS I AM STEREOTYPICALLY A BOY:
1. I leave laundry on the floor, next to both hampers.
2. Preoccupation with my large breasts
3. Not a big snuggler.

THREE WAYS I AM STEREOTYPICALLY A CHICK:
1. Love to cook.
2. Analyze things to death
3. Total athletic klutz

THREE CELEB CRUSHES:
1. Andy Garcia
2. John Cusack
3. Usher

*Sometimes at night, a noise emits from Cheddars mouth that sounds exactly like a little man speaking a foreign language. It's both frightening and uncanny.

Labels: Bitchmom Screampants, Boobs and Pee and Poo, From My Loins, Fur, MEME, The Man Who Lives in Cheddar's Mouth, With Grace My Ass

Weekend Update
A week ago yesterday, we headed to the cottage to enjoy a long weekend. Well long did we enjoy. Today, one week and one day later, we'll be wrapping up said weekend with a voyage home.

Truth be, stretching a weekend getaway into a week long vacation, one day at a time, is definitely the way to go. There's no packing stress. No recreational performance anxiety. Lastly and bestly, no extensive menu planning.

Of course, peoples gots to eat. Being under the impression that we were leaving "tomorrow," day after day (after day..), there was no reason to stock up on groceries. Who wants to be messing with a meal and cleanup when there is packing to be done? Multiply that hightly rational cognitive sequence by roughly 7 nights and...well, you get the idea. Let's just say we ate around.

Doggone Blues
Some of you commented on Cheddar's seemingly "hangdog" or "tired" appearance. Well, you'd be hangdogged too, if you spent the better part of a week doing this:



FAQs about Cheddar sitting at the end of the dock, day after day:
What's he doing out there? He's pining and whining at his beloved white dots, bobbing joyously in the cooling farwaters.

Isn't he a full-blooded Labrador Retriever, a breed known for their ability to fetch fallen game from bodies of water? Why yes, he is that very breed of dog.

Why doesn't he just jump off the dock, like those labs I see on the Ted Nugent Network? I dunno.

Hey Cheddar! Your DNA called (cellular, of course). Left a message for you to Go Ahead and Jump.

Diamond Purl
You sure do shine.

I haven't measured this because my cord is too short. But just eyeballing, I figure I have two skeins to go. ::Sigh::. I'm shawly gonna miss the clarity of this gem.



Here's a closeup. (And a hex on your next five rows if you try counting lace holes in search of errors.)



G'night Jim Bob.





Sunset photo courtesy of yours truly.
Location: Platte Lake, Northern Michigan
Date: July 22, 2004.
Time: Sunsettish

Labels: Cottage, Fur, Now You're Whining, Pho-Ho'

Wind Chillin'
Wednesday at 1:00 pm, we left Grand Rapids stewing in its hot and humid juices. As we moved north, our car thermometer indicated slowly declining temperatures, but nothing to raise concern. 15 miles from the cottage, it was still 70 degrees outside. But as we turned onto the cottage trail, the reading was 59 degrees. From inside the cottage, the view looked something like this:



Being Michigan born and bred (shouldn't that be bred and born?) we know to expect nothing but the unexpected when it comes to weather. So what does one do in Northern Michigan, in June, in the shivery rain? Why, one goes to the canoe livery for ice cream.

Here's my favorite licker, lookin' slicker:



This was posted at the livery souvenir shop:



My first thought was that word of Ana's intemperate nature had preceded her arrival to these northern parts. Interestingly, my husband and I have identified one of her favorite tantrumic wails as The Wildcat . I showed my husband this sign and shared my interpretation. He patiently explained that the sign is intended to keep children safe from the animals and not the other way around. He then suggested that I may be a bit high strung from recent stresses and thought that an evening of rum and diet coke was in order.

This morning the weather was still crappy but it cleared up later in the day so Ana and Daddy and Cheddar enjoyed some beach time. Well, by "cleared up" I mean it stopped raining and the temperature almost broke 68 degrees.

So, what was I doing while the rest of the family giggled and wiggled on the beautiful shore? I knit the garter stitch. Over and over and over. In fact, I finished yet another garter square while watching the fam splash and play. Shortly after binding off, I ran into the cottage for something, and out the front window I see this:



That's a neighbor's pup with garter square #14 in his mouth.

Soon after, I tried to reason with my husband that perhaps the puppy drool was a sign that the garter stitch afghan was not meant to be. He wasn't too square with that idea.

I'm gonna try to do a little jogging before nightfall. More tomorrow....

Disclaimer: This post was not thoroughly proofed.

Labels: Cottage, From My Loins, Fur

Husband: Are you in the kitchen?
Me: No, why?
Husband: What's that noise?
Me: It sounds like a neurotic labrador with poor impulse control and even poorer outcome prediction skills has chewed his way through the bottom of a large Chinese take-out bag and is trying to get free before he gets his garbage-grubbin'-poop-eatin' ass in a heap-o-trouble. But I could be wrong.



At this writing, Cheddar the Dog maintains he is innocent of all allegations.
And taking Dummern a Baguvfur to new heights

Labels: Bag-O-Hair, Fur

I have a new dentist. Again.

Yes, I've started anew, after a string of failed hygienic relationships.

For I am a dentist ho.
I've a reputation for swishing around.
I'm a strumpet for uncharted sterile venues and cutting edge lectures on flossing.
I've even opened wider for two dentists in the same building (Not on the same day. I have standards.).

Recently I decided that it's time to settle down so, along with my husband, have committed allegiance to a Dr. Bristle.

But I'm having second thoughts. I'm thinking that maybe we all should've dated awhile before making any promises.

There's something weird about this place. I've come to the conclusion that all the employees have had their brains sucked out (probably via the suction hose...I'm sure they've sucked some brain matter through my sinus cavities) and replaced with a software from which is elicited only proper dental care etiquette, rhetoric and propaganda.

I've joined the Stepford Wives Dental Practice of Oral Purity.

Yesterday I was fitted for a crown. They did about three impressions. Each time she removed the gunk, the Assistant said "Super job, Marcia. Thank you!" Thank you? For what? For not swallowing the two inch globular of silly putty? For making a good impression?

I once tested my Stepford hypothesis by blurting out "my dog eats poop" in the middle of the hygienist's speech on gum disease. It took a few seconds (and I swear I heard the hard drive chuggin') before she came back with "Eating poop can lead to bad breath and irreparable tooth discoloration."

I think the office manager has an upgraded system which includes proper verbage for selling advanced restorative services and filling empty appointment pages. She commits to memory every patient's insurance allowance, deductibles and renewal dates.

Strange as this bunch is, I'm thinking that I might hang around awhile. Maybe I'm finding comfort in the benign predictability of scripted relationships. Maybe I appreciate that they've reprogrammed everyone to laugh at my cornball comments.

Or maybe I heard a rumor that they've hired a new girl with Cyber Cafe and ATM capabilities.

By the Skein of my Teeth
Today (Wednesday) I'm expecting delivery of a package of yarn. Six skeins of Indulgence. I call it Limy Green, they call it something like "Get- Another- Hook -in- her- Before -Totally -Reeling -her- in- Green." "They" is the Teddies at Threadbear Fiber Arts Studio. The Indulgence is a steal....at half off.

I remember my momma telling me to beware of strangers. And if a stranger in the park offers you a bag, she implored, just turn and run. Run Away. Momma knew her stuff.

Labels: Dental Hijinx, Fur