The other day after work, I found myself skulking around the neighbor's yard, with camera in hand, butt in the air.

And on this magnificant evening, the light angels were with me.





LaVernal, Surely
Later that same evening, I saw another potential photo op playing out on the street, so grabbed my zoom lens and ran out to shoot. Much to my chagrin (and concern), my camera's autofocus suddenly stopped working. While not catastrophic in terms of overall camera function, with my failing eyesight, being limited to only manual focus would be inconvenient at best and a kill shot at worst.

I was not able to catch the shot I ran outside for, so commenced with obsessing and fussing and mussing with the buttons, in a futile attempt to resume my focus on the world. Every time I tried a new remedy, I took a sample shot. While none of them worked, shoot was not a total bust.

Apparently I can focus all by myself. Without use of psycotropic medication, or auto focus function. All for good of the cause: Growth



P.S. I charged my camera battery, in case it was too low to run the autofocus motor, but it didn't help. Then I got out my manual and learned that I had inadvertantly switched the camera over to manual focus, apparently while in a photographic frenzy. And I am once again happily dependent on the focus of others. So let's hear it for stunted growth.

Labels: eye candy Friday, Pho-Ho'

While on a walk at the cottage a couple weeks back, I found some pussy willow branches along the road. I never really understood the big attraction, but my mom always loved them. And as a child, to bring her a fistful of fur-nugget switches, guaranteed at least a couple of hours of good favor.

It must have been out of habit then, that I spent several minutes wrestling with the branches, to twist them free. Back at the cottage I put them in a vase and set them on the table. An hour later, I noticed the sun shining on them, through the window, which gave me the idea to take some pictures. After a round of duds inside the cottage, I brought the vase to porch. And those pictures were better.

And moving them to the sand was even better.
Then we went closer to the water.
Then we were practically in the water.

Next thing you know, we have a lovely spray of pussy spring on the beach.



The Bub Electric

Last week I posted this picture of the kids chasing and popping bubbles. A few days ago I noticed something weird around this girl's right hand. Upon closer inspection I realized that I caught a shot of the bubble as it disintegrated on her fingertips. I just wish it were a bit clearer.



Sorry for the yawner post, but I tired.

Labels: Pho-Ho'

Sun, Surf, Sand and Snowsuits?
Spring Break, of course.

We arrived at the cottage last night, with plenty of time before nightfall, for Cakers to engage in her usual Spring Break Arrival At the Cottage Ritual: Play on the beach, regardless of the weather.

Cakers found her bucket and shovel. And gloves.



Cheddar found a huge stick.



And I, of course, found lots of pixel fodder.





Today we went into town, where I stopped at the yarn shop to pick up a circular knitting needle I need to finish Ingenue. Then we stopped at the bead store, where I picked up some beads to make stitch markers.

Then I had to stop at the local lake to observe and shoot the current floe of excitement.





Back at the cottage, I spent an hour uploading and playing with my new pictures. Then I worked a bit on my Super Challenge Sudoku puzzle (it has letters and numbers). When my eyes starting bleeding from working over those very tiny squares, I took a break to blog a post.

I think I have too many hobbies.

Labels: eye candy Friday, Pho-Ho'

These pictures were supposed to be posted yesterday, for Eye Candy Friday. So how about you play along?




I have not been around here much because I have many burdens of the employment variety, the brain-suckage-ness of which has struck me dumb and dumber.

Tired and tired-er.

Bitch and bitchier.

And I really don't want to talk about it.

It's as though I've reached a saturation point, and the warm, moist substance that continues to fall on my head now goes pretty much unnoticed, except for the occasional smear I find inside my shoe.

And I really don't want to talk about that.

Itty Bitty Booty Committee
I have no idea why this picture is sideways.



Anyway.

This is all the knitting that has been accomplished around here over the last four weeks. Two tiny socks. And I only finished the last one today, so I could add a picture for this post.



The Specs...

Pattern: Ribbed sock pattern, made wee-wee tiny.
Yarn: Leftover brownish blend sock yarn.

Otherwise, I don't want to talk about it.

What Once Was Ingenue, is Now Old Again.
In the time I have spent on the knit, unknit and reknit of Ingenue, I could have bred, birthed and raised up my own baby sheep to adulthood, and then knit her and her mother a matching mother-daughter sweater set.

And what I have to show for all that, is not a lot.
And after that, I don't want to talk about it.

The New Face(book)of Friendship and the Spoiling of Time.
Yeah. I joined. Under pressure. I kinda don't get it, but that doesn't keep me from looking at my page several times an hour a day, checking and rechecking for FB's special purpose to be revealed.

Two things I am greatly enjoying about FB: 1) Smartassing via comments with my handful of friends. 2)I stalked out my best friend from middle school and we've been having fun catching up. She is one of the happiest "friendship" memories of my life (yeah, the whole 50 years of it) and the cadence and tone of her written communications feel like home to me. She lives near the cottage and we're hoping to meetup some time over the next few months.

I think a part of me was expecting FB to be like blogging, but more interactive. But it isn't, and never can be. And that's a good thing.

And about the potential (ha) time suck and triggers for latent, obsessive behavior patterns...I don't want to talk it.

Wrapper Up In a Butterfly Net
One thing I can say about blogging that I am appreciating at this moment is the freedom to create obscure subject headings.

Anyway. I certainly have more to talk about, but I am trying hard not to Barf the Brain, as I am wont to do in these increasingly infrequent posts.

So, g'day.

Labels: I Work Too, Knit Done, Pho-Ho', When Knitting You is Hurting Me

Work continues to march run back-to-back wind sprints across my ass. In cleats.

Between my day job, parent job, cook job, wife job and night-job-writing-reports-for-the-day-job, I find myself in a perpetual state of denial.
Of all things pleasure.

i.e.:
No knitting.
No Photography
No beading.
No drinking.
Some lying.
About the drinking.

Therefore:
I'm tired.
I'm stressed.
My thoughts write checks my brain can't cash.

Therefore II:
I'm living beyond my Cognitive Means.

Therefore I Found Myself:
Last night.
Working on a report at home.
In the office.
At a desk.
With a computer.
And a lamp.
And beads.
45 degrees to the right.

Next Thing:
I know, my chair has swiveled 45 degrees to the right.
Within minutes, I am knuckle deep in a beading frenzy.

And the Next, Next Thing:There are pictures of the ensuing beadacle.



Send Brain.

Labels: eye candy Friday, Pho-Ho'

Last Tuesday was the annual community-sponsored Daddy Daughter dance.

Minus one Daddy.

A couple of months ago, said daddy bought tickets to an allegedly important college basketball game,also scheduled for last Tuesday. ::Spartans. Love. .::

Initially I was suspicious about his claim that the schedule snafu was an accidental oversight. But I changed my mind after he reminded me that when our daughter was yet a Wee CupCakers, fresh outta the oven, he was already taking note of the annual announcement of the dance in the community calendar. And every February after, until she was old enough, he would announce how many years there were to go.

When he realized the scheduling mistake, he apologized to Cakers muchly, then gave her three choices: 1) Tell him to sell the game tickets and take her to the dance, 2) Tell him to have fun atthe game and she'll invite her Goga or, 3) They would skip the dance this year and go to the game together.

Her initial response was to add a fourth option: Go to the dance with College Brother AND daddy would buy her one new Webkinz a week, until her 13th birthday, at which time, details of the apology contract would be renegotiated, at the whim of the offendee.

We went with option 2.



Working up a Blather
For the past two weeks, I have brought work home every night, with the exception of one, and that was only because I needed to cleanse the cognitive palate, between reports.

In looking at my calendar for the next few weeks, it appears that from today until February 25, I should be enjoying a dearth of deadlines. However, between the 25th and 28th of February, four evaluations are due. Therefore, according to my calculations and based upon The Delineative Theory of Social Work Impetus and Plausibility,* I should already have two of those reports done. Yesterday.

But I'm not going to think about that, today. Instead I am enjoying the anticipation of a 4-day weekend, courtesy of the district’s mid-winter break.

Unfortunately (or not that much), Winter break for Cakers starts the Wednesday I return to school.

That gives me two days home alone.

Q: What ever will you do?

A: I'm glad you asked. For starters, I hope to finish The Annual New Year’s Ides of February Post, and there will be knitting, playing with beads (and related adhesives) and seeking a remedy for Cat-Walks-Across-Super-Glue-Infested-Desk-And-Gets-Stuck-On-Keyboard-But-Nobody-Notices-Until-Following-Day-When-Hungover-Momma-Tries-To-Check-Her-Blog-For-Comments-But-Finds-Angry-Cat-In-The-Way.

You know, just in case.

This Public Service Message was brought to you by Mammals Against Drunk Glueing.

Latah.
Much.

P.S. You might notice a bit of discoloration on Cakers' chin. It's the result of an injury at after-school care, wherein she fell in the gym and hit her chin on the wood floor. The next day in school, she soon tired of telling the story when anyone asked her what happened, so she shortened it to "Wood floor. Chin first." My cute little wordie.

*The Delineative Theory of Social Work Impetus and Plausibility= Number of reports multiplied by the hours in the week, divided by the number of clients on caseload, squared to the perpendicular obtuseness of teachers seeking consultation, subtracted from the number of people who have my work phone number, multiplied again, by my work phone number, rounded up to the nearest address of the nearest Rite-aid, then divided by two, only if that Rite-Aid closes at 8:00. For all other Rite-Aids, divide by 8:00.

Labels: eye candy Friday, Pho-Ho'

Work has been chewing my ass for the past two weeks. And next week I expect said ass to be handed back to me for rehabilitation, in prep for rounds three and four. Two days this week, I left home in the dark and returned home in the even-darker; full brief case in tow.

But before I commence with this ever-burgeoning maelstrom of woe song, I will stop.
And show you a pathetic piece (or three) of evidence of how lame my life has become.

Following are the only pictures I have taken since Christmas break. I took them late this afternoon, while sitting in my office at home, when I was supposed to be working on a report.





I don't know what's more depressing; that my creative expression has been reduced to taking photos of beads in the sun then blogging about it, or that I can't play with said beads, then take pictures. And blog about it.

And is it just me, or was Christmas break a buttillion years ago?

Labels: eye candy Friday, Pho-Ho'

Vacation Stats: The Rest of the Story.
I had meant to finish my post-vacation post earlier in the week, but there are complications in my life right now, causing both time and brain related suckage.

In addition to the consumption of 20 pairs of clean underwear, following are other relevant (to me) stats from my 10 day vacation.

1) Number of socks knit: 5/6 of 1, shown here less than half done.



I did finish the first sock Monday of this week.



2) Number of stitchmarkers created on the cottage porch: 12



3) Number of photographs taken with fancy-ass camera, using only the manual settings: 47

4) Number of photographs taken with fancy-ass camera using only the manual settings, where the subject of said photos are actually recognizable: 2





I know that these pictures are too dark, but I kinda love the little details of light and texture. I encourage you to click for big.

The story of my foray into Real Photography should/could provide enough material for its very own post. But I'm a bit short on that kind of time these days. And self-esteem.

5) Meals I prepared: 2.

6) Evening boat rides: 5

7) Evening Swims: 7

8) Hours I spent floating on a blow up raft that was tied to the dock: 10

9) Number of times out of 20...

a) wherein the changing of the undies was necessitated by swimming or bathing for hygiene purposes: 15.

b) Change of undies resulted from the pissing/pooping/other of the pants: 0

c) Change was required by an uncategorized event: Same number of afternoons wherein Cakers spent the afternoon playing/swimming at a neighboring cottage.

10) Times I otherwise gave a rat's ass about Brett Favre: 0

Odds and Ends. From Comments and Beyond.
1) Brett Favre on TV at this moment. Again.

2) Have you seen the Secret deodorant commercial on TV, with the woman in the red sleeveless blouse, who bounces down a busy city sidewalk baring and sniffing her armpits? While I abhor violence, I admit to harboring a secret fantasy of the police officer just mowing the bitch down in his cruiser, just between the "I'm innocent!" and the compulsive armpit sniff.

3) Yes Doris, I lick the stones on the beach, in search of the ever elusive Petoskey. When it comes to rocks, I have licked worse. And the rocks on the beach don't smell.

4) Yes Dirty Sue, that is the Ypsi tower in my anniversary mosiac. That picture actually ended up in the mosiac by mistake, via a misfired flickr click from a previous upload for a Ravelry post. ::feel free to research it.:: However, once it was in there I found it to be oddly appropriate. And no big brothers. Sorry.

5) Tomorrow I'm off to the cottage again, where I am hosting a congregation of the Circle of Brain (COB). ::COB=Kristi, Kellie and Dirty Sue.::

I know. Please pray for my emotional and physical safety, as well as that of the indigenous peoples, particularly in the areas of tavern and yarn store dwellers.

Labels: Cottage, Pho-Ho'

Days fly gone
On a Solstice rocket.



Ma Nature empties
Her candy pocket.



And little girl grown
Is off her docket.



Look Under There
Except for a few more squeezes from the lake before departing for home later today, my 10 day vacation at the lake is over.

And I'm okay with it being over, because it was spectacular.

In fact, my vacation was so great that six days into it I was out of clean underwear. All 14 pair. I know. Please don't hate me.

Seeing as how the lake water is currently a temperate 74 degrees and the air a balmy 79, I refuse to spend a minute more of the smidge of vacation that remains, sitting in front of this tube telling you all about it. No offense. For the record, this philosophy would also apply to my not having posted all last week, despite the accessibility of astro-glide internetz.

So, the rest of the story will have to wait until tomorrow. Or so.
For now, I got a date at the end of the dock with a Fly Girl.





And I'm going commando.

Labels: Cottage, Pho-Ho'

I Bee Busy.
Thanks for Asking.





A real post of some sort is hopefully coming soon, including some kind of recap of last weekend.

There is mucho crappo going on in my professional world, mostly related to ongoing budget cuts and further staff reductions. And while I am mindful to scrape my emotional feet every day as I leave the office, I still end up dragging some bits out the door.

And by the time I get home, the bits have grown to chunks.

And kind of heavy.
And stinky.
And make me tired.

Yesterday I took a nap after work.
I can't remember the last time I did that, as I'm not much of a napper.
And what a treat that was, on the back porch, in the sun, under a blankie.

I forgot how wonderful it is to hit that state of half awake doze, where I drift off to another place, yet am still connected to the real one, by sound and feel. And then the little movies start playing on the inside of my eyelids, incorporating the barking of the dog next door with psychodelic swirls and dancing monkeys.

Sigh.

But now I gotta bee goin'.

Labels: Pho-Ho'

Bloom With a View

I found this in a tree, just outside my front door.



Dramatapod Elementarus
This rare species makes its annual migration through our region, but this is the first time I have ever seen it, up close.



Day 2. Apparently they know not the meaning of "traveling light." Please click for details.



When Bad Things Happen to Good Trees



That there is a bit o'somethin' that tumbled from my own family tree. The sibling branch. It was her birthday, this week. That is her birthday hat. She wore it while shopping at Costco. It plays music while a little pointy thing pops in and out of a hole in the top, in a very creepy, Freud-Would-Crap-His-Pants kinda way. ::If you click, you can see the pokey thing starting its poke-up.::

Sometimes I wonder if our family tree should see a tree surgeon. I hear they are opening branches everywhere.

It Doesn't Always Sock to be Me.



That nipple-esque item on the left toe is the result of a kitchener malfunction. It seems I cannot kitchener if there is any kind of distraction in the room. You know, stuff like radio, TV, oxygen.

Brain Train

Tomorrow I am heading to Traverse City to join and complete the Circle of Brain.::We recently have recognized that each of us possesses only partial brain capacity,but when we're all together,we create one complete brain. This allows each of us to walk without falling down, and stuff. Or if we do fall down, we can get up. If we want.::

Hopefully I can make it in time tomorrow, to save Kellie from getting lost in a coffee shop, or Sue in a bathroom, or Kristi from knitting a sweater with no neck hole. In the meantime, think good thoughts for a safe trip for them, tonight. Or at least think good thoughts for keeping Kristi out of the navigational loop.

Labels: eye candy Friday, Pho-Ho', Tree From Where I Fell

As seasons go, I've never been a big fan of Spring.
First of all, she's mostly kind of ugly. Dirty. Mucky. Bland.

Then there's her weather. It usually sucks.

When Spring weather doesn't acutally suck, around here we tend to get very excited, act like fools, and get all up in its temporarily beautiful, springy face. For example, we prance around the neighborhood, with arms outreached to the sky, and blink our eyes. Rapidly.

Then we walk around, waving to neighbors with whom we never otherwise speak, and yell stupid stuff like "Yay! It's finally Spring! Maybe this year you'll invite us to your little secret backyard BBQs? You think we haven't seen the other neighbors climbing over your back yard fence, with blankets over their heads? And their kids pulling the pony kegs down the sidewalk, in the wagons? For the record, the elephant ears and little Shriner hats on the kegs aren't fooling anyone. and "Can you believe this weather?"

The following day we wake up to 14 inches of snow, with accompanying ice storm warnings, and a tornado watch, to boot.

In fairness to Spring, it's not entirely her fault.
She has a tough job. At least here in Michigan.

After spending a long hard stint with her older brother Winter, we the people are pretty much ready for Spring, on the day she is to officially begin.

It's not her fault that her big brother is a bit of a bully. And a show-off.

Adding insult to injury, is that come late May, when Spring finally gets her wheels, people confuse her with her little sister, Summer.

I know.

So, Spring, I'm sorry you get such a rough go of it. Really.

And even though I still think you kind of suck, could you find it in your dirty, mucky, bland little heart, to lay off the nasty for a few days, while me and my family are stuck in Michigan for Spring Break?

P.S. Have you guys ever considered family therapy?

Making The Best of It
So, we're at the cottage for a few days. This is the first Spring Break we've had up here, with snow still on the ground. And the lake still frozen.

But Sister Spring has been good to us.
And we're making up the thrills as we go.

So far, said thrills have been limited to watching ice melt.











And bugs testing out body parts.



Or giving me stink eye.



Sayeth the Bug: "If I hear that stupid ladybug song one more time, your home and family will be descended upon by a plague of orange and black spotted crunchiness, the likes of which the human world has never seen. And for the record, I'm a guy."

Oh yeah. And I'm knitting a sock.



P.S. I've been working on this post since Friday. The Northern Michigan, rural dial-up has pretty much knocked the internetz right out of me.

P.P.S. If there are mistakes in this post, I'm pretty much leaving them be. I've been kicked out of blogger no less than 12 times in the last 45 minutes.

P.P.P.S. Please embiggen the leaf picture for full impact. The leaf was on the ice, and the ice had just melted around it. Note the rocks on the lake bottom around the melty part.

Labels: Cottage, Knit In Progress, North, Pho-Ho'

A Baby Ate My Dingo
As of right now, I am on a 4-day weekend. I always look forward to this annual winter break, ::No doi, dinkledorf.:: But because I've had four days off within the past three weeks, on account of snow, this planned hiatus is feeling a bit, well, awkward.

I'm sure I'll get over it.

Anyway.

Tomorrow we're heading to the cottage for a few days. The weather forecast for the region, over the next two days calls for Lots and Lots of Snow, With Potential for Total Knit-Out Conditions.

Stay In School...
Otherwise you run the chance of missing the unit on Why It's a Bad Idea to Skip School in February, In Michigan, Via Walking Through a Field of Snow, Two Feet Deep, In Flipflops.

Smart Assedness Asside, one of the girls' feet are pretty messed up. She is currently being treated at the regional burn unit.

Can you imagine being the parent on the other end of that phone call?

And Don't Call Me Shirley
Mahatma Gandhi, as you know, walked barefoot most of the time, which
produced an impressive set of calluses on his feet. He also ate very
little, which made him rather frail and with his odd diet, he suffered
from bad breath. Therefore, he was a super-calloused fragile mystic hexed by halitosis.

As You Were.

Labels: Pho-Ho'

I hate Christmas was wonderful beyond my dreams. Christmas Eve I stayed up until 2:00 a.m., ransacking the house in search of my secret booze stash, after knocking off the last legitmate bottle of wine. to make sure the next morning was nothing less than perfect.

Christmas morning, Cakers was up at the crack of ass dawn to open her gifts. Then, while Cakers played with her new toys, I cleaned up the wrapping paper mess and prepared a plan to get myself legally adopted by the lady down the block for mid-morning brunch with the in-laws. No sooner had I finished with all that, when College Boy came over from his father's house, to open his presents.

When my son was done opening his gifts, I was struck by a sudden sense of sadness at not having run away with that rogue band of eunoch bikini waxers, back in college. had a few more kids, with a few more different men, so the gaiety of this morning could have been extended.

After a third round of gift exchange, this time with my in-laws, punch was spiked brunch was served. After the table was cleared,we had a surpise guest: Child phenom Caker Monshaker.



My inlaws left at 2:00, which gave me just a couple of hours to hunt down my former therapist to ask him to: 1) drop the restraining order and 2) Get me a 48 hour inpatient placement, where I would be expected to do nothing but enjoy a medication-induced euphoria and whoozily receive my guilt-ridden visitors. prepare for a round of toxic relational debauchery reciprocal love and joy with my mother, siblings and nieces and nephews, at a party being held later in the evening.

That party went pretty well except for the part where my niece shot my nephew in the neck with a pellet gun and my former SWAT instructor brother had to take her down, to disarm her and then my mom cried., but the highlight of the evening was the presentation of my Tammy Faye Snuff film snowman cupcakes.

And even though most of the little snowman noses fell like panties off a Spears'ass off in transit to the party, my family members were so thrilled with these little fellas that they fought over who would get to implode theirs next in the microwave get first pick.

In fact, by then end of the night there were only two left and I found them in the back room, toasted and nestled between two graham crackers, with a chunk of a Nestle's bar.!

I spent the next day sniffing cleaning supplies and sucking the scalp of Cakers'new wig. cleaning, and the day after that I cleaned up after the cleaning up.

And today, we're at the cottage.
Halya Fucking Loo Ya.

I'm so excited to be here that I don't give a whit about the anticipated 6-10 inches of snow expected between 4 and 11 p.m. today.



Early in the snow shower, the flakes were huge and I wanted to take a picture of one. I received a photography book for Christmas, but it doesn't have anything in it about photographing snowflakes, so I winged it.



Here's to Getting Hosed on New Years
I bet you thought I forgot.
But I didn't.



I'm finished with the leg part. Next, I have to do that stuff that makes sox more than just messing around with a 7 inch tube of glorious substance.

Soxual Heeling, Baybee.

p.s. I meant to have the this post done two days ago. But hey, Shit happens. Shit Happens.

p.s. I REALLY meant to have this post done two hours ago. But hey, Blogger Happens. Blogger Happens.

p.s. I'm ree ree tired and will not be checking publication for typos, grammos or STDS.

Labels: Christmas, Cottage, I Need Therapy Thursday, Intendments, Knit In Progress, Pho-Ho', Too Tired for Pudding