Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Reese's Pieces-Revenge is Best Served Cold..

It was my honest opinion, but she was having none of it. Even when presented with the picture proofs, she remained steadfast behind him, tossing would be friendships into the fire that would be there to support her when he finally revealed his unfaithfulness, which I believed was just simmering on the back burner and would explode like a meth lab within days--a month at the most.

Tired of having nothing, and her world coming down around her ears, she clung to the hope that was hopeless. He would leave her eventually, a blithering mess--the way he'd done me. I was stronger now, but I couldn't tell her why I was involved or who I was. That would have to wait for the final unveiling.

The song "Big Yellow Taxi" blared in my head, as earworms often do, and the words somehow seemed appropriate.

"Don't it always seem to go, that you don't know what you've got til it's gone. They paved paradise, and put up a parking lot." Then "And a big yellow taxi took away my old man."

Although I'm still not sure WHY they seemed appropriate, I simply knew that they were. I went over the whole song in my head as I was driving along, heading for Chicago. A quick stop at a McDonald's along the I-94 corridor at the drive through to wave at the step-daughter and smile. I'm sure he had told her his version of our history. I imagined her smile turning to a frown when I told her MY side of the story, and how all her pre-conceived notions about him came crashing down around her. Similar to the way Ms. Draner's would, should I ever let her know what had really happened. But for now, those things would stay hidden. The drive was long, slow and hot. Chicago was still a long, long distance away. I had a good six or seven hour drive ahead of me, and a storm brewing in the windshield. Little beads of water formed on my upper lip, so I turned on the a/c a little higher and pointed the air duct straight to my face. That was good for a minute or two...then it turned chilly, and the rain started pelting the car.

I turned on the radio and the wipers in a smooth arched motion, trading hands on the wheel, checking for lights before and aft. I was quite literally on the road alone, passing through another memory. I slowed to 55, even though the limit was 70, because my tires were slightly undernourished in the tread department. I flipped off the cruise control, too, as the rain got heavier, and water started to splash on the side of the car as I sped through puddles. As the wind came up, I noticed hail beginning to fall, so I pulled off at the next exit, and just in time to hear a tornado warning blast over the radio, interrupting a favorite song. I looked behind me in time to see it, too, whirling and tossing debris everywhere, but it was short lived, and the funnel cloud disappeared into the rainstorm. Things quieted down after that, so I resumed my trek, got back on the highway, and continued on into the rain, as the last of "Kentucky Rain" played on the radio. I dialed 911 and called in the tornado, although I was sure that it had been fully reported by spotters that I'd seen along I-94.

The rest of the trip was completely uneventful, save for the sun coming out and giving me a full eyeball's view of a spectacular sunset, reds, oranges and gold with a little purple tossed in the clouds here and there--a summer sunset to remember. I'd be in Chicago in minutes now, rather than hours. I'd been on the turnpike for an hour, taking in the highs and lows of Chicago suburbia.

I arrived at the Holiday Inn next to the Mall. Great placement, as far as I was concerned, even if it was a little expensive. It was here that I was finding out more information in my review of another cheating husband, this one, NOT my own, thank goodness. I mean, you have to trust somebody sometime, and my fella deserved it. I had work to do; however a short walk to the mall would hurt no one.

The Mall was open and spacious with lots of sculptures and balloons made of paper hanging from the ceiling. I stopped at a Sbarro for a slice of their pizza, and sat down in the food court watching people walk past. The Mall would be closing soon, but I made note of the couples who were dating and those that were long-time marrieds--easy to spot, by whether they were holding hands or not, looking into each others eyes as if to say "I want to know you, through and through." How I longed to tell them they could never know another person. They could turn on you, bite off your head and spit in your neck sort of evil, without your ever knowing. They could turn into someone and something that you never thought possible. I'd seen it time after time. In my line of work, YOU DO. The nature of the beast is to protect itself--even when the truth is staring them in the face, this type will deny until the end of the ages--pledge allegiance, and then when you aren't looking...ah, another time.

I spotted my mark at the Mall, just moments before closing, heading back for the hotel, and I decided that was my cue to follow. I knew in advance where he was going and who he was meeting. The internet is NOT as safe as it appears. I took it easy and kept well behind. He met up with her in the parking lot. He was dashing, and some might say good looking. She was pretty average, actually, and not his type at all. He smiled at her, even though I knew that disappointed look wasn't from the fact that he'd forgotten the condoms. I pulled my phone out of my shirt pocket and turned it on video.

His wife, completely unaware, was back in Colorado, thinking he was on a business trip. I'd heard that one a million times, but I tend to exaggerate. They clasped hands and walked into the hotel, and I turned off the video. No sense in going overboard and giving myself away. I was here to enjoy myself, too. Take in a few sights and sounds and native food, all while at the same time, getting stills and more of a man gone wrong. I ambled up to my room, which surprisingly was on their floor, and I touched my blue tooth as they went into the room together.

Blue tooth, my arse. It was a small camera. I had him. Right where his wife would prefer he not be, but there he was all the same. In a hotel room with another woman. I opened my own door with the access card key, and entered. Deciding to take a quick shower and hit the sheets. Tomorrow, I'd have to hit the ground running early if I wanted to get more--even though what I had was damning enough. A kiss, of course, would seal the deal. Another statistic bites the dust. I figured I would get my chance at some point over the weekend.

But for now, time to relax in a cool shower, and perhaps a quick drink, then off to la-la land. Tomorrow, I would eat well, visit Chinatown, the Sears Tower and a Mexican Restaurant, all the while running the A-Train everywhere around town.

The wharf, the library, the gargoyles, the copper sculptures the museum, the arboretum. Everyplace that was anyplace. I made a mental note to buy some new tennis shoes when I returned home. This trip was sure to put holes in my existing gumshoes, as they were already showing less tread than I remembered when I first put them on my feet. I turned off the lights, disrobed and slipped underneath the cool drops behind the shower curtain, and let them rain on my face and hair, before finally bringing soap to washcloth.

Ah, and you thought I was going to go into a sordid shower scene, did you? Shame on your imagination.

After the shower, I wrapped the towel around and stepped into the air conditioning, towel dried my hair, and flipped on the television from a glowing keypad on a remote control, but I wasn't really watching the television. I was playing over some things in my own head. Memories, long since dead, of he and I in our earlier days, when things weren't so stressed, and we were visiting Disneyland with friends of ours. They thought we were doing something nasty under those covers. Really not so much, but it was fun making them think so. Since tv really held no interest for me, I flipped it back off, turned down the bed, and lay down, resting the towel on the pillow so that the pillow didn't get soaked from my still damp hair. Then I stood back up, dropped the towel and crawled in, chilled now in the air conditioning, and little goose pimples rose the hairs on my arms. Yes, I remembered those days. It saddened me to think that he'd tossed them all away so easily for a quickie with a girl who didn't even have her head on straight.

I had to tell myself "That was then. This is now." and allow my eyes to close against the memories again, all the while convincing myself that sleep would erase things and tomorrow would dawn a new day when I could crush another scumbag.

Ah, yes, sweet revenge...but on the wrong guy.

I Have About 10 Minutes..

In order to blog my irritation about the Casey Anthony trial.

A little girl was murdered. You don't duct tape the head or nose/mouth of a child that has already died by drowning.

There, I said it.

There's just not a single stupid person in the WORLD who wouldn't convict her of murder 1. Not a single soul--save perhaps the other sociopath/psychopath folks like her. But even if she's "mentally ill" like Charlie Manson is mentally ill, why should the government take care of her for the rest of her life? Even her own family doesn't want that job now that they know the truth, and frankly, I think it's too much of a drain on finances.

It's my father's fault. It's my mother's fault. It's my brother's fault. When does it get to be HER fault? I mean, there comes a time when you must be held responsible for your actions. I also think Charlie Manson should fry.

I mean, come ON people--clean out the gene pool! Do we really want people like that breeding?

I know it's just my opinion and all, but good heavens. There's got to be justice done somewhere, somehow.


A long weekend sure doesn't seem like a long weekend. However, things may occur today that will take me out of the office for a while--perhaps earlier than I expect. We'll see.

I'll take my knitting just in case.

Monday, May 30, 2011

Memorial Day

I always lament when this day comes, because it is the last day of the three day weekend, and it means that tomorrow I have to go to work again. I need a vacation pretty badly, but I'm in no position to do so. I'm trying so hard to build up my hours so that I can take a nice long two week vacation, and it is really slow going.

Last night, hubby and I watched a special on 60 Minutes about a fellow who broke away from his unit in Afghanistan to save his best buddy from being carried away by Taliban soldiers, risking his life and limb, obtaining his dying buddy and bringing him back to safety. The young man won the Medal of Honor for his heroism, but he would give it up in an instant if he could have his buddy back. And of course, the show had all it's standard fare for folks from the past who'd won the medal as well.

Then they broke away from this and exposed the fighting at the border between Afghanistan and Pakistan. Our Army and Marines are telling the television expositor that they are basically fighting Pakistanis--Pakis that are coming to the aid of the Taliban in droves that keep on coming.

It sounded like an advertisement that our President should head on into Pakistan and begin the conflict there as well, since they seem to want to join in the fight...never mind they want to join the wrong side, but that's just my own opinion. Perhaps they are just confused? Or maybe we're over there getting shot at for the wrong reasons ourselves? Never mind that this is approximately where Osama was found and killed, I believe, though I could be wrong. Our government sounds like it has decided that the Pakistani government didn't know Osama was there. If that's the case, then WHY are these people getting shot at and killed for a man who was obviously setting up their relatives for massacre?? I don't know, and it boggles my mind. It would seem that plausible deniability has become the M.O. for Muslims in this part of the world, but these Paki people are doing zip to hide their part in the plan. Then again, the whole show could be propaganda--still, flying bullets and hiding a female news commentator inside the ATV were pretty convincing. The cameraman was a soldier, too, so at times, he would sit the camera down in order to take up arms and fight. It was pretty harrowing. The news commentator was hiding on the floor trying not to be a target.

And it is just a matter of time before our president decides to go in and take care of business. I'm sure he's much better at getting "intelligence" about the matter than one 60 Minutes news commentator. Why she would go into the fray like that with people who are so anti-woman is quite beyond my understanding.

She was British, too, which I suppose only exacerbated matters. (Sorry, that's the Scot in me.), AND blonde (ok, that's the female in me.). She had it coming. (Just kidding.) And she was pretty scared, and did everything that the man entrusted with her care told her to do. She fumbled with the door handle on the humm-vee and he grabbed it for her, covering her body as he did so, while shots rang out and rpg's and mortars were being fired all around them. All you heard was "snap snap snap" and "feu----" just like during the 4th of July when the fireworks get shot off, then a "kudgeboom" as the mortar hit pay dirt. It was pretty noisy.

So, I think you can count on the fighting continuing, and not only that, but that the president will likely drop some troops behind the lines in Pakistan and get these Taliban supporters, capture and bring them in. It's just gotten to be too long, and basically, I think the Pakistani government owes us. Added to that, we're a little tired, the average american human, of this whole terrorist business. Boys like their war games, I suppose, and war has gotten to be pretty high tech. A marine can't go into the fray without lots and lots of training. But our boys keep getting shot and keep dying. Mothers and Fathers are losing their sons. It can't be just because the economy is bad over here.

All my opinion, and based on what I see on the propaganda cube that we call television. I don't believe everything I watch on television, but the fellow who did most of the talking, he didn't seem to be telling tall tales.

After this, hubby and I watched a National Geographic show about the caves in Upper Mustang, (pronounced Moose-tang, even though it looks like a Chevrolet), which is an area of Nepal. There are lots of cave openings in the mountains, very unforgiving terrain, and this expedition group of rock climbers and historians and archeologists were climbing up and down, going in, documenting, taking pictures of wall art, etc. It was really quite something. One of the caves they climbed to (no mean feat trust me because the mountain face was made of sand and pebbles that was not conducive to proper climbing condition), had a TON of writing in it--writing that looked suspiciously Arabic, but was thought to be very old Nepalese. It was done in ink on lined paper, and as they were taking pictures, it looked for all the world like they were showing it to us "upside down". I wondered to myself if it was actually upside down and backward, but that's just me in my Leonardo kick. It could have been children learning their letters for all I knew, but there was a lot of it, and the printing was pretty artsy--so I figured that it was done by someone or other who'd been at it for a long while, and goodness knows what it meant. Of course, they couldn't take the documents with them. They had to leave everything and take pictures. The paintings on the walls were done by some pretty outstanding artists, too, no matter how long they'd been studying. Pictures by the score were taking.

The team was only able to document about 4 caves, as they had only a month's permission to work on the project. They brought their children with them. I thought it was a wonderful thing to expose kids to, again, that's just me--but what an adventure!? Rock climbing, cave exploring, finding lost artifacts--all archeologists would love to get their hands on this kind of project. It takes years to prepare for a month's work. The show was an interesting documentary.

Today, hubby and I are celebrating his birthday at his mothers. I've already purchased his pressies and given them to him. A pair of pants, 3 shirts and a Josh Turner cd with his favorite country song on it "Long Black Train". He was really excited about the clothing, since he hasn't many short sleeved shirts that aren't work shirts in his closet, and the cd was just the cat's meow.

We're going to have brownies at his mother's house. We might go fishing. Personally, I'm ALL about the fishing. There was a storm yesterday, and his mother's house lost a tree. Had we celebrated yesterday, our car would have gotten crushed. Mother's house and barn are fine however. The tree, though is done for. I think it was one that she had a face nailed to--we'll check it out when we get there.

We just heard that the kid's in laws lost their power, and have no electric to run the sump. It's taking in water in a finished basement, and that means MONEY. So we're working on getting them a generator to use.

Well, we got that all straightened out, then went over to Hubby's mom's for his birthday brownie and supper. We spent most of the day there in the comfort of the air conditioning. Then we came home, in the air conditioned car. When I got out of the car the humidity nearly knocked me over. It was like stepping into a furnace!

I came into the house, and it's pretty stuffy in here, but the windows have been closed all day, so the humidity hasn't made it into the house much at all. I turned on the fans, and things indoors are cooling off a tad. Not sure how we're going to sleep this evening, but it's too late in the day to try to put in the window air conditioner, so we'll sleep (some) without it.

I'll be going to the office in the morning.

My friend has messaged me on my phone that she needs a ride to a State Office. Apparently, she can't get the help she needs from her daughter--too busy or not enough time. I have no idea if she got an appointment on Tuesday or not. I can't seem to reach her daughter on her cellular, so it's sort of hard to work things out. I'm hoping that I can reach her on Facebook or on Yahoo tonight to know what needs to be done. We shall see.

In the meanwhile, it's nearly 9:30pm. I have to take my meds and so does hubby. I'll let y'all know what transpired on my Tuesday workaday tomorrow. :) L8s!

Sunday, May 29, 2011

Nearly Recovered

I slept like a baby after 11 last night, having taken a sleeping pill, I was off to la-la land. I slept really well, but Mandy woke me at 5:30am to go potty, and well, I guess I needed to as well. l let her outside to go, but I used the indoor plumbing. It seems safer that way--wouldn't want to frighten the neighbors--even if they are up this early on a holiday weekend, which I seriously doubt.

Hubby has purchased about 3 ton of landscaping bricks, and a couple ton of corn, which I haven't seen yet, but I guess that's for the winter season's heating. He's going to go all around the house with them. Personally, I'd rather shoot myself in the foot, but that's just me. Apparently, he's going all around the house with these things, and he's going to plant a bunch of flowers. I have no idea what's got this idea into his head, but he's decided that he's going to *do* something to keep him occupied this summer.

Since he's sort of a "sit in my chair and play video games" sort of person, I expect this "idea" to last until the bricks are in place, and then he will most likely go back to his chair, and leave the flowers for next year. But should he follow through all the way with this "idea", I'll have lots of pictures to show you as the work progresses, and I think it might be a marked improvement.

As for myself, it's only 5:30am, and I think I might crawl back under the covers where it's quite warm. It is, after all only 59 degrees outdoors, and I'm not willing to go outside with the mosquitoes. They are too hungry, and I'm not willing to part with my blood for love or money, let alone mosquitoes. First, though, I think I will thin my blood a little with a can of Diet Coke, and a brief "how do you do" to you. Later, I might go to the car and unload from the Alma games--bring in my knitting and try my hand at that.

I found some laceweight yarn on Ravelry--about 3900 yards of it. With it, I plan to work on Triggy, which I've been meaning to do, but haven't had enough yarn to work it. Or I might work on another circular shawl. They go over so well at Alma, and they keep me warmer than the triangle shawls--perhaps because I an double them, and they are big enough to cover my shoulders, back, front and what not else. I did enjoy working on the Civil War Shawl, but it took almost $100 in yarn. I truly don't think I will make it again, no matter how easy it was. There are a couple of shawls that are touted as circular blankets, but take a lot more than 3900 yards. No, I think that this time, I will work a Triggy, or perhaps a Queen Anne's Lace or something like what Mario has in his Yahoo Group.

Beyond that, I really have no idea what the plan is. I'll have to let you know. Wish me luck!

Saturday, May 28, 2011

I Am So VERY Sorry!

I took my phone into the Highland Games with the intent to blog and picture every few feet, then blog quick little quips about the picture.

By the time opening ceremonies came, I found that my phone battery had died and I was all done blogging. I was heartbroken. This year was the very best opening ceremonies, and you've all missed it, thanks to me. I am so apologetic, that I can barely stand it.

And I am so sore that I can barely stand

Or sit

So I've spent the last two hours in bed, trying to recover.

The day was not so beautiful, but it didn't rain. It wasn't hot. It wasn't cold. It was darn near perfect bagpipe weather, and everyone sounded so wonderful. I had hoped for a quick video from one of the two top bands--pfft. No camera.

But it was a wonderful day. My friend Ray and I dined on fish and chips afterward, and by the time it was time to leave, I was too tired to really announce it. I drove home, and took off my shoes, turned on the cruise, then took off my socks, 'cuz my feets gotta breathe!

For those who didn't go, my golly, I feel so sorry for ye! It was a grand time, and I even met a scotsman! And he was just a-talkin' and pretty soon I was just a-talkin' right back to him! I asked him

"What brought you to MICHIGAN, for crying out loud!"

And he said--

"There are three stories that I tell ladies when they ask me that question", said he. And I reply--

"Do any involve sheep?" To which he laughed, and told me that he'd tell me the "clean" story.

"I told this one lady in a bar once," he said, "that when I first came here, I was a dentist, and that I met another dentist in a similar bar as this one. I told her that we got to talking, made fast friends, and decided to trade practices now and then. Once in a while, he'd take over for me in Scotland, and I'd take his practice in the USA. And then I'd smile and show her how good my business was doing."

At this point he smiled and showed off several missing teeth, and we both had a turn of LOL.

I met several similar characters throughout the day. I talked about spinning and how it works, listened to the bands play, looked around for my friend Ray, browsed the tourist and crafts, spun some, and just generally tired myself out totally.

When I felt it was time to go, I located Ray, put my wheel in it's case and transported it, backpack style, along with a bag of wool, a bag of knitting and my lawn chair, and we hot-footed it to the car. I think *that* is what did me in--because I couldn't get close with my car before the whole show, and I couldn't get close with my car when I was ready to go, so I had to carry my things back and forth. It just plain wore me out.

Tuckered, I was!

So now, having had a moment's respite, I am blogging the last of my day at the Alma Highland Festival. Ray and I had dinner (fish and chips) and then I drove home in bare feet. Then crawled into bed for a couple hours to recover.

And there you have it. Pretty much. You should have been there to see it. It was GREAT.

City of Chicago won 1st Place Grade I--of course, I don't know this, but having listened to it, I figure that had to be the turnout. Peel Police came in a distant 2nd, IMHO. I didn't even hear the other Grade I band--but Chicago has Chris Barr--the premier drumming instructor this side of the Mississippi, both in the USA AND CANADA...yes, don't be silly. I know Canada doesn't reach the Mississippi...or would the be vice versa? Still a little addled in the brain, I suppose.

Did I say I had a great day?

Well, I came home with one of those ceramic wine glasses. It's blue and is it ever pretty. A pic for you tomorrow if you're good, but for now, it's almost 10pm, and I'm drinking Coke, and a little bit wired for all that. I think I'll head to the car and get my knitting and my phone and plug in my knitting and do some phone in my chair.

Oh, heck. You know what I mean!

Little McLeod Dancers

Sent via DROID on Verizon Wireless

A Seriously Cool Kilt

It has a Lion Rampant on the back. Perhaps a stencil in slightly lighter fabric paint. Not sure if the pic got the difference.

Sent via DROID on Verizon Wireless

For my Step Son

As if he needs a push in this direction!

Sent via DROID on Verizon Wireless

Wind and Wire

Lawn adornments. The daisy was stunning.

Sent via DROID on Verizon Wireless


Shows off his incredible wares.

Sent via DROID on Verizon Wireless

The 5K Race

I see no point to it, but they split this into age groups so us old folks have a slim chance to win.

Sent via DROID on Verizon Wireless

Clay Creations

I bought a wine cup here. Too much to choose from.

Sent via DROID on Verizon Wireless

Blow by Blow

Today is thAlma Highland Festival.

Today will be a blow by blow of the day with lots of pics and posts. So refresh often to get the latest!

Here, Ray has presented me with a reproduction sales print of a whiskey advertisement and a Scot on pipes wearing the ancient McLeod colors.

Also, in the foreground is a pair of black Kilpareick drumsticks that I've always desired to have. THANK YOU RAY!

Sent via DROID on Verizon Wireless

Friday, May 27, 2011

I Had to Do IT...

From the Kludgers at "There, I Fixed It" dot com...

Titled "Putting up Christmas Lights is Exhausting".

Waiting for the Day to End

I am so ready for this weekend. Id like to park my butt in a chair and never rise again.

Hubby has been pretty sweet since he discovered I wasn't going to allow him to run roughshod over my feelings. So that front has resolved somewhat. Who knows. Maybe he reads my blog?

That would be the day.

He's off to Isabella County Clerk to get a copy of the death certificate for my mother. Then he's off to the casino.

I would much rather go to the casino (and I despise that as an activity) than to be at work. A necessary evil, I suppose.

Well time to take the walk of shame back to my cubicle.

Sent via DROID on Verizon Wireless

The Emperor and His New Clothes

The story, as beguiling as it is, is basically premised on the idea that a smart "common person" can often outwit an idiot "king".

Hubby has been complaining about my wardrobe. He does not, however, take it upon himself to buy me new stuff, because I never let go of the old stuff. It's comfortable, and while it's not "kingly", I work more efficiently. I can RELAX and enjoy the good parts of my job (which lately are so few and far between as to be a joke--but it pays well. Sometimes, I wonder about that, too, but I digress.), and while the way I dress doesn't buy me the respect I deserve, I figure "whatever". Ya'll can just go to H. E. Double Toothpicks. I need the comfort when I'm in an uncomfortable position, and by golly, I'm so uncomfortable and stressed that I'm nearly bald in places. You know that receding hairline that men get? Well, I have one, too, because I've pulled my hair out there. It grows back, I have little 1" sections.

Yes, the job is stressful. Life is stressful. Heck, even my DREAMS are stressful!

Last night I dreamed that my husband broke the television, and demanded that I buy a new one.


And I started to cry, because I'd had just a horrible day at the office, and here he was demanding stuff from me, too. I was crying so hard that he woke me up because my breathing was so weird. And when I woke up, the corners of my eyes were wet.

But it didn't stop there.

I did fall back to sleep, and dreamed that my son, mother and her friend, and I all drove to a craft store. My mom and her friend went inside, my son went to a skateboard place and left his door wide open. It ticked me off, so I yelled all the way across the parking lot TWICE to get his butt back to the car to close the door! When he got back, suddenly the door was closed, and he took off back for the skateboarding place.

I removed my keys from my pocket, and all my money fell on the floor of the car. While I was trying to pick it all up, my mother and her friend came out of the store, got in the car, my son came out of the skateboard place, and everyone told me to get in so we could go home.

I was so mad! I finally told my son to turn the car around and get me back to the craft store so I could get some crochet cotton (or something) and I swore, which I almost never do in front of strangers, and my mother reached across the car and slapped me in the face.

And then I woke up, because the alarm went off. And I told my husband that he was going in to the office to work instead of me, because I just can't take the disrespect anymore.

So when I took my shower, I thought--I'll wear one of my new T's that I bought at Meijer's last night--and while I don't feel like a million bucks, at least I've got on more clothing than the Emperor had on. I bet I paid a lot less, too.

Thursday, May 26, 2011

Daily Damp

It has been wet and rainy all day. My neck has a kink in it. I decided after work to stop at the chiropractic doctor for an adjustment. He says that there's a 60% chance that I'll have to return on Tuesday. I feel a little better, but things are swollen. He says keep it on ice for a while.

So I stopped at the grocery store, and got a bunch of food, which I'm going to let hubby unload. Right now, he's on the telephone, discussing my mother's divorce and such as it relates to my father's life insurance.

This cretin man has screwed my mother for gee, she married him when she was 14, and she's in her 70's now. The divorce was about 20 years ago, and it said that my mother was to remain the beneficiary on the life insurance.

So of course, you know he changed it. So now, my hubby and my mother are scrambling to get things in order so that she can still get the life insurance, but there is every possibility that his second wife (or more likely her family), who ironically has the SAME first name, will try to swoop in and take away what is rightfully my mother's.

Well, it's just one more complaint about my father. He was rotten to the core, and he didn't deserve my mother at all. I'm really angry about this last "screw-job" he's done.

And besides all that, as if that weren't enough, our roof leaks.

And it's damp outside.

And the river down the road is flooding again.

And when it rains it pours. Go figure.

Anyway, *he* is the reason for the nasty, man-hater speech on the blog a couple of days ago, and hubby was acting up too. Then my girlfriend's issues--well, three strikes and you're out sort of a deal. Just suddenly it seems, that mean men are falling out of the woodwork and really making quite the nuisance of themselves.

Mine's saving grace was a quick, "hello, sweetheart, give me a call when you can" message on my phone. I think I should have saved it. Those sentiments come too few and far between.

One more day and it's the Alma Highland Festival. They are predicting possible rain showers and scattered thunderstorms. But you know, I think that we've had so much rain, on days when the weatherman said "no rain", that I believe we're due for sun when the weatherman says "yes rain". I admit, it's okay with me if it rains all week, but on Saturday, it must be sunshine. There's just something about the day Saturday that requires sunshine. It should be written into daily law...

Instead of daily damp.


Hubby called me on the phone today, and left a message, and called me "sweetheart".

And everybody said:


:) I don't care. I'm happy about that!

Carol, Tenna, Cindy and Pamela

These were the names of the girls who pretended to be the Monkey's at recess in grade school--those innocent childhood, elementary school years. Those were the years when the CDC vaccinated everyone for Polio. They were the years when the school administration decided to show the movie about kidnapping and (gasp) murder and don't take candy from strangers, and certainly don't get into their car!

Carol and I stayed friends off and on, throughout school. She wasn't exactly my BEST friend, because we had apparently totally different interests. In fact, after 3rd grade, my parents moved away, and Carol and I lost track of each other. Then in 8th grade, we had gym, but even though we were still in the same class, it was like we were strangers, so we didn't get too close. Then the next time we had a class together, it was our senior year Accounting class. She was having trouble, and so was another friend of mine. I was one of those kids who "understood lots of stuff", and so the three of us banded together and I tried my best to help them understand what came so easily to me.

After high school, I zoomed off to college, and Carol was lost to me for many years. She got married, but I had my son before she had her daughter. We lived lives that seemed eons apart, even though we never lived more than 50 miles from each other.

Then, one day, I came to the internet. When I first joined Yahoo! and Classmates, I found her again while hunting for her name, wondering what had happened to her over the last 20 or so years--MY GOD, HOW TIME FLIES! We managed to get in contact through Classmates, I think, and when I read her bio, I remember thinking--"wow, how interesting!" Because she had found a way to try to provide humanitarian aid (on a very personal level) to a Native American tribe based in Oklahoma. I thought this was extremely incredible and couragous thing to do--something that I've always hoped to do for folks from Joplin, for instance, or New Orleans or whatever place and people had experienced a recent natural disaster that had decimated their livelihood. Yes, I'm a rescue person at heart, but I have never really had the opportunity (other than with dollars) to provide the support that my heart so longs to give in times like this. I've helped single people here and there, only to find them generally unappreciative and had them take my support for granted and then toss me aside and forget me. It was an experience that I'd sooner forget. But my friend, Carol stayed with these people for 10 years of her life, caring for and about them.

One day, she told me that she was hoping to marry one of the Native Americans. Now she knew this man very well, that he'd been married before and knew his wives, and that he had been abusive to them (and to her), but that she needed to marry so that the tribe would take care of her. I begged her not to marry this man. I told her about the abuses that I'd experienced (which turns out were not nearly as bad as her experiences), and she married him anyway. I've never felt so sad for anyone in my life, but I didn't know what I could do.

But as time always does fly, ten years skip through. We'd kept in touch, though only superficially, while I waited for the other shoe to drop. And then I read that she was sleeping by the creek with a wolf pup to keep her warm, and I just about lost it. Figuring that she'd finally left him, I quickly wrote to another friend who lived in the area, asking if she was homeless and living out in the desert, to which he replied he didn't know, but that he DID know that her situation was not "good". And I bombarded my life-long friend with Facebook messages to come home, do you need a ride, what can I do to get you back home!

I had just about determined that I was going to drive to Oklahoma, pick her up like an abandoned puppy and bring her home with me. Even the friend from the area was trying to reach her to get her some help.

Then I hear from her. One of her family members has sent her a bus ticket, and she was coming home. I remember sighing with relief, and then crying with relief as she told me her story. I didn't realize how much I had worried about her--my best-est friend from childhood. I told her to contact me AS SOON AS SHE ARRIVED ON CLOSER GROUND. Which she did, and we have talked and talked.

She wants to write about her experience. I think it would be a great book! I asked her if she'd like to blog about all the things that have happened to her. I even told her that I'd help her with a computer and help set up her blog so that she could write and pour out her heart in blogger land. I told her that I would read it and link it with my blog, and I urge everyone who is a subscriber to my blog to subscribe to hers--because her story will chill you to the bone and make you cry and go through all manner of emotions.

She's a strong, courageous, sensitive, TOUGH and hard as nails person, this woman I've come to know. She is now FREE again, and able to tell her tale with passion and compassion, and deliver the horrors of life with an abuser who broke her teeth hitting her in the face, her ribs, hitting her with a crowbar--some pretty horrific things.

Trust me, you need to hear her story. She's a legend in her own time. I am so proud of her I could just bust. It takes a lot to run away without a plan, feeling like there is no one you can really count on, but she did it anyhow.

The names here, have been changed to protect the innocent of course, and you'll see why when I link her blog here. So stay tuned.

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Readership Down...

Sort of like "Periscope Down", and I have no clue why other than that I've been waxing a bit philosophical/religion on my blog--and it's likely this turns folks off. Normally I don't write a lot about matters religious, because no one ever agrees with you, and you end up with hate mail or everyone leaving blog for other blogs more interesting--or nauseating, but whatever your reason, today's blog is not about readership, periscopes or religion.

No today's post is about Men.

You know--the other sort of women...the ones that make no sense. The ones who think they are always right. The ones who can never admit that they are so so sorry.

Now, not all men are like this, but if you are reading this, and similarly blessed (and I use that term VERY loosely), I found something out today that I'm willing to share with you, and maybe you can share with others of our ilk--meaning other women, of course, so that word will spread and eventually we can rid ourselves of the obvious infection, er, strike that, the demons that live in our homes.

Come to find out that men will do anything for a cookie.

Now, I am not talking about chocolate chip or peanut butter sandies, or those cute thin mints that come from the Girl Scouts. If you all ain't figured it out yet...then you need your head examined.

I've also discovered that once a woman gives away "the cookie", the Man decides you are either worth it or worthless, in which case he just dumps you and never calls you again. This means that you should NEVER give away the COOKIE. Never. UNTIL you get what YOU want.

However, keep in mind, that he will keep begging for the cookie at every juncture. And if you don't get something (or don't want something--in which case, ARE YOU SICK?), and give away the cookie for free for nothing, then the man will come to eventually despise and disrespect you. First, you'll hear him calling you names. Next he'll be trying to control your money. Then he'll be telling you where and when you can come and go. Then he will start hitting you.

With this in mind, STAY AWAY FROM THE MAN WHO HEATS UP YOUR NETHER REGION ON THE FIRST DATE, and expects to have a cookie before the night is out. If he's got desperation in his eyes, BEWARE. There's a reason why he's alone and lonely, and it's not because he hasn't met the right woman. It's because he had her and lost her, and it's more than likely he lost her because she got fed up with his bullsh*t ways.

Most men don't start out this way. They start out all charming, taking you nice places and making themselves indispensable. Once they have you hooked, then turn into MEN, and all sorts of crap can begin. If you allow it to happen once, then it will most certainly begin to happen over and over. End result, you are angry and unfulfilled, buying yarn to fill the empty hole.

Trust me, ladies, when I say, that every man I've ever known (and I've known a considerable few--which means more than 1 or 2--or maybe even 100!), has been this way. Some quicker than others...but the same nonetheless. It began with my father, and ends with my current marriage. I do try to keep my current man on the straight and narrow and air my grievances as soon as I notice them, if at all possible, and I feel that this has resulted in a lengthier marriage. Holding on to that crap can really wear you down. And my current man has a deeper knowledge of what marriage is really about, having come from a functional family (unlike myself), but he is, still and all, a MAN. Much to my dismay, and continues to get out of line.

Some days I think I need a whip and a chair, but I believe that would only turn him on, so I refrain myself. They cannot be changed. If they choose to change (a RARE instance), it's generally to change their underwear or their woman. They have no compunctions about sharing your bed with another woman. It's what they do. It's who they are. So, girls---CHOOSE CAREFULLY. If he's separated from his wife--he's NOT available. The first chance you're busy and can't see him, he'll be running back to her for a romp in the dark, and you'll never be the wiser.

If he's divorced, you want to know how long and WHY. Don't settle for the pat answer that "She didn't understand me" or "I don't know". There's a reason why they became another statistic. Because he DOES know, and SHE DID understand him.

And that's why she's not with him anymore.

So let's be realistic, and all read "Act Like a Lady, Think Like a Man", and then be the women that we should be, because we don't need men to complete us. If anything, most of them just drag us down.

Well, I've male-bashed enough for tonight. I'm ready to head to the living room to deal with the man in my life who is denigrating me to his mother for not going with him to the financial advisor, and disagreeing with him because I didn't have a password to get into my account, and want a separate meeting with the financier. In this day and age of Bernie Madoff's, I'm not so sure I can trust a man to watch my financial future.

Sunday, May 22, 2011

Still on the Scrappy Doo

I'm still working on the Scrappy Doo. I'll be glad when it's wide enough for the bed.

Really glad. Whew! It's a hot blanket now, and only big enough to cover the top of an end-table. It's heavy too, which makes it difficult to hold up.

My grand-daughter's party? What with the fight before going. It wasn't much fun for me. Then hubby grabbed the pink bear out of the car (you see, I didn't notice until I got into the house and found grand daughter playing with the bear I intended to use for my class), forgetting, apparently, that his mother had the bear that was for his grand daughter. They were made slightly differently, and I noticed the difference immediately...not to mention that the bear was already unwrapped.

It made me SO freaking angry, because he KNEW that his mother was bringing the other bear, since I had to call his mother to make sure she brought it and all. I had to take the bear back to my car and break her little heart until I could get the other bear out of the bag and give it to her before supper, so that she could see that I didn't forget her, and that I wasn't taking away HER bear. And that Grand-dad had made a stupid mistake. Stupid man. STUPID STUPID MAN.

Just totally ruined the whole thing for me. I ignored him the entire evening, and hoped for the promised rapture. HOLY SMOKES did I hope for the rapture. I figured, you know, if God could take either one of us, I would be okay with that. Instead, 6:05 arrived (that's when I thought to look at the clock), and imagine my disappointment--but not surprise.

Not disappointment in God, but in man--one Harold Camping, who will be forgotten again in a few years. Just as he was forgotten in 1994 when he made his first prediction of the End of the World. I feign belief in Mr. Camping's prediction and scoff at the passing of it without incident, because I know that mankind is flawed, and I knew Camping to be a false prophet already. My hope wasn't really dashed. I still believe there will be a rapture and an end to the world. But imagine the shock of the world had Camping been right. It's sad, really, all the people he has led astray and bilked of millions. CNN says he never took any of their money, which isn't the regular modus operandii of the standard religious fanatic. I suppose this will allow the IRS to go in and find out where he's hidden it all--of course, the man is 89 years old--he may live another few years, so I doubt that it's gone.

So if the leadership of the cult is found to be a false prophet, does that remove their "non-profit" eligibility? Probably not, but the way our government is changing, I would bet that it could be pressed. You just don't mess with the government anymore.

It's sad, really. It did bring up discussion of December 21, 2012, though, and why the Mayan calendar stops there. You might know. Right in the middle of winter! Isn't it cold enough in outer space that we have to be cold before the rapture? Again, I scoff a bit, because I figure the end of the Mayan calendar is probably because the guy who was in charge of handling it either died or he just quit--figuring things couldn't last that long anyhow, and nobody else wanted the job...sort of like kids who don't want to mow the lawn because it doesn't pay well. I can see Junior Mayan discussing the passing down the business from Senior Mayan. Junior wants to study volcanos. Dad is adamant that his son will be a calendar man. Dad dies of heart failure and junior goes off to the mountain, digs a hole, causing the volcano to become unstable. It explodes and wipes out the entire Mayan community. (Before you tell me that's not how it happened, keep in mind that I'm being tongue-in-cheek here.)

So it didn't happen. It's Sunday. The normal day for Christians. I wonder how many will actually go and attend church?

I wonder how many will stay home and knit?

Saturday, May 21, 2011

Watching the World

I've been watching the world through a bit of a magnifying glass the last couple of days. Let's just say the news isn't good. Relations with Israel may be falling apart at the seams because our President wants them to "just let it go", and they aren't about to do that.

I mean, would you allow your step brother to put up a house and garage on your acre of land? Let's not even consider that Palestine wants to take over the entire coastline, leaving Israel in a pretty indefensible spot, tucked right in there for easy attack.

Normally, I don't like talking politics and religion--or writing about it for that matter, because I am not someone who gets too involved in politics, and I've found that religion just makes everybody mad--so I stick to my views and pretty much keep it quiet. It would be so much easier if people would just get along.

Take my husband, for example (please!). He's making decisions about the yard and wanting to make some major changes. Some of which I'm fine with--others, I'm not so fine with, and he's unmovable in his resolve. He told me a year ago to move my tall phlox, which come up every spring, and look so pretty and purple against the side of our house--a place where he's never so much as gotten a rototiller in--let alone a shovel, but he expects me to dig them all up, move them to another location, which he hasn't prepared, and then expects me to water and keep them from dying in the hot sun, when he hasn't even replaced the garden hose! He's basically being unreasonable. The area is full of stones and hard. The phlox found they're way into little cracks, and the ants have carried seed all the way down the hill. Most years they are beautiful--this year he wants to spray them all with Round Up to put in annuals that he can till under next spring.

And that will be the end of his involvement with plants...one year. I know this from experience. He bought impatiens one year, and that year they were just beautiful. The following year, they did not return, and he did not replant. The flowers that I plant, re-seed themselves. Yes, I have weeds. But for a while I have beautiful flowers that he hasn't provided since the first year we lived here.

It's a very sad story. If I move my plants now, I will lose them anyway. My lavender, my Johnny jump ups, my phlox, and a yellow thing, that I'm really not fond of, but that's beside the point. He's also talking about moving the peonies, and you shouldn't move peonies until they have done with their flowering. He also wants to take out my big beautiful lilac bush and put it elsewhere, but hasn't said where. I love getting in my car and smelling my lilac bush! I'd have it by my bedroom window if I could!

So right now, I am not speaking to him. I am too miffed for words. I've allowed these plants to provide as they desired, and now I'm going to lose them. And I'm miffed about it. I keep trying to think of another place to put them, and none comes to mind...someplace where I can watch them, and look at them, and see them grow. Right now all I can see is them dying in the sunshine. I'm so sad.

Forget about the rest of the world, and take care of your own backyard.

East Lansing Art Fair

The East Lansing Art Fair is on today.

I'd like to go. I'd like hubby to go, but I think he won't care for it, and then make the entire trip miserable for both of us. I'd like my friend Carol to go with, but I think she's resting.

So far, I haven't seen Christ coming on the clouds. The Bible says that everyone will see him. And with cable tv, I don't doubt it. I'm a little early for the grand arrival, and like I said, I'll be at my grand daughter's birthday, probably eating hotdogs on my step-daughter's deck overlooking her garden.

That seems enough to do for one day. Hubby is rather being a bit of a stick in the poop, but that's his way. If I wanted to go alone, he'd be okay with that. I think he's only agreed to go because it's pretty much free, if all you do is "look". He doesn't care for stepping around crowds--for that matter, neither do I, but I might do it, if it was something I really wanted to do. Still, it's almost noon, and we have to be at the party by 4. We could have about 3 hours of standing room only in the bright sunshine. Sounds like a three-alarm fire looking for a place to happen, and of zero benefit for my skin, quite honestly. Even an hour would be too much in the bright noon sunshine--and I doubt that you could see everything in an hour. I just don't think it could be done.

So I guess I'll stay home and fidget, waiting for the Event. Just so you know, when He does come, people will be saying "Where is the promise of His coming?" and scoff, so perhaps it's not a good thing that I'm sitting here at my computer, quasi-scoffing--I figure, if He comes, I really hope that He remembers that I bought my ticket a long time ago.

The End of the World!?

A lot of people are talking about this fellow over on CNN.com--

The man is something like 89 years old and I think I read someplace that he owns a radio station called FamilyRadio--

And he believes that the world is coming to an end Saturday at 6pm Eastern Time. This Saturday, which would be tomorrow  (for me), and it's very likely that I will be at my granddaughter's birthday party at the time.

Does that mean the party's over?

I'm a little bit concerned about the "message" that this man is putting out there, because apparently, he put it out there once before (in 1994), and things kept on about their merry way--his response to that was that enough people must have prayed, and so God showed mercy. But the "good book" says that it's not for man to know the times or the seasons, but when you see these things come to pass, know that these are the birth pains of things to come, but the end is not yet....There will be wars and rumors of wars and earthquakes in different places (etc...I tend to paraphrase when I can't quote directly)...but it would seem that things are really bad before the end comes. Not that things aren't bad--this seems to have been a banner year for natural disasters in the United States and elsewhere--but there have been natural disasters in the past, and someone almost always survived.

So if the time comes, passes and there is nothing to show for it, you sort of wonder what excuse he's going to give. Or worse, if it DOES come to pass, is he planning to snub his nose at the rest of us and say

"Nya Nyah, Told ya so!"

Somehow, I wonder.

And there's been a lot of debate over what the Bible says and what it doesn't say, and frankly, you can tear the Bible down into a million little pieces and debate every letter until it's basically meaningless. People who do this make me feel quite sad, because they are throwing the baby out with the bathwater--can't see the forest for the trees. It's not surprising. To these folks, God is too small.

Imagine if you will, our galaxy, amid our universe, which is only one of millions of universes, which is only millions of millions more that we simply don't know about yet--the vast expanse of time and space, to infinity and beyond that--are all encompassed in the mind of God, which sort of makes you think that there might be a finite space that you could attribute to God, but even that is too small.

I like to call this Infinity Plus One, or IPO.

A mathematics/physics teacher told me that there was no IPO, that Infinity was just infinite, and Infinity plus one would still be infinity--but yet, that causes a rift in mathematics, doesn't it? Because we do tend to think in terms that are linear--Infinity plus one cannot equal infinity--because infinity plus 0 (based on the laws of linear mathematics) would be equal to infinity--therefore, Infinity plus one would be somehow greater than a "normal" infinity, again, based on the normal laws of linear mathematics.

My friend told me that there was no such thing as IPO. And I replied, I bet you don't believe in God either, huh? But you do believe that there is a chance that intelligent life is somewhere "out there", and has the intelligence and knowledge to build a ship that will traverse all that time and space just to come and visit us for a little while.

I see, said the blind man to his deaf wife, while he picked up his hammer and saw.

My thoughts on the matter of the Bible. I think that basically it attempts to lay down the law for the Jewish nations, while at the same time having a huge Islamic influence--that's mostly the first half--then there's a bit about the kings and the judges that handled the law, with a couple of common sense "warriors" that brought the people to task. A miracle here, (of course, perception is everything, right?) a miracle there. Then Christ is born and the whole venue takes a big turn--an about face, if you will. Things are really quiet for a long while, and then suddenly, Act 2, and new actors take the stage. Suddenly, it's not about the letter of the law anymore, but about how you treat others (including God, if you believe in him).

Jesus was asked once, which of the 10 commandments was the most important, and his reply was

1. Love God with all your heart, and all your mind, and all your strength.
2. The second is like it--love each other. Thereupon lays the groundwork of the entire law.

 Again, I paraphrase....

But this means, that we really only have to follow 1/5--only 20% of the law, and we're on the "plus side" of the scales that we believe God maintains. That is, *IF* we could keep that law. Too often, we fail to cover that 20% even 20% of the time. Sad. So sad. It's why there is greed and jealousy. Pride and prejudice. Running around naked in front of the livingroom window.

Okay, maybe that last wasn't part of the plan...sorry.

The biggest deal, is that when we compare ourselves to the next guy, we con ourselves into thinking that we are somehow better than--that we're on the right track. That we're doing okay. And we may very well BE doing okay, as long as we con ourselves into thinking that it's the next guy we need to beat out to gain God's favor.

Know what?

He knows about that time you passed that little old lady on the freeway and flipped her the bird as you blew past because she was going a little slower, since she doesn't have somebody to drive her to the doctor, and can barely see to begin with--and no, she probably shouldn't be on the road, but what else can she do?

And he knows about the time you took that dime in the bathroom stall that didn't belong to you.

And just because those are small things--and you probably think, "I could be much worse--I could have run that old bat off the road so that she wasn't a menace anymore...and cry out 'jeez, it's only a dime, for crying out loud--it's not like I robbed a bank!". But you know what? Doesn't matter how big or how small. Sin, or what I prefer to call "un-loving-ness" big or little, is still sin.

And God can't have sin. He wouldn't be God if he had sin. So He thought up this plan....

"I'll send my Son", saith He, "to stand in the place where YOU should be", to hang on a cross and die, and Jesus' shed blood will cover you (a throwback to when the Jews slapped blood on their door frames during Exodus--so that the Angel of Death would "pass-over" their house--he would see the blood, and not come knockin'.) and the Angel of Death (that's Satan, by the way) will be able to make your flesh rot, but will not be able to destroy your spirit.

Now right there's a hard thing to understand--your spirit. Some folks think they don't have one--that when they die, that's it--they're done, gone, buried (or burned) and returned to the dust and basically worm fodder. Which sounds really gruesome, actually, when you think about it. And if you believe that way, that's cool.

Personally, I am not much of a gambler. But if I must gamble, I hedge my bets as much as possible. Frankly, if you don't believe, okay. Maybe you're just a wiser gambler than I'll ever be--but honestly, *IF* there is a spirit, and I have one, and it's gonna go someplace when I die--I'd prefer it go to the nice, cushy hotel, than to the condemned, broken down, algae in the water one. THAT's what I call hedging my bets.

But there's an added benefit to having "faith", or believing in something that you can't see, can't prove and don't really so much care if you do. It's called "hope". Hope for a better tomorrow. It means you can wake up in the morning after a really horrible day at work, and say "things will be better today", and maybe they will, maybe they won't, but you have "hope" and accept that on "faith", even though you haven't been through it yet.

And because of those two, you can also share love--in little ways, here and there, random acts of kindness--not required, but sure makes someone else's day, and gives them a chance to really bless you (unless they beat you over the head with an umbrella, which could make your day a lot worse...first make sure the old lady WANTS help across the street, okay?). And because of those little random acts of kindness, you have begun a chain of events that can brighten an otherwise dull day in your little realm. You may never see where it led to--and it may never come back your way--which means it's still out there working.

And then, Act 3. Christ dies, rises, visits with his friends and relatives, and goes to heaven...then the chosen head out and spread the message--random acts of kindness--for a gazillion pages--and then...the finale.

Yes, the finale.

The culmination of the effort. The harvest is taken. The trees are pruned back. The bad trees are tossed into the fire, and the good trees are allowed to continue bearing fruit....You can almost see the moon, for me and my gal...(oh, sorry, waxing a memory there)...

There are a lot of "things" that happen, some that herald the end of time, some that are judgments, there's a fervent belief that God wouldn't make his "faithful" go through this horrible time, but you know what? God allows us to go through trials and difficulties on all sorts of matters, why would that change? I mean, sure...I hope that I can get the heck outta Dodge before the place blows up, you know, body and spirit and all of that, but it's not like I'm Billy Graham or something like that! I'm just ME--and there's nothing particularly spectacular about me.

(Just as a digression here, when I was at the pizza joint the other day, I asked for the Italian seasonings shaker, and the clerk said "yes! It turns the ordinary into something extraordinary!" I then countered "Oh, perhaps we should sprinkle you as well?" The next day, he took my order and I looked over at his boss and said "He sprinkled herb all over himself this morning, didn't he?")

Yes, I turn a mean knitting needle, and can joust with the best crocheters. My quilting is a thing to behold. And my spinning? I can turn out a bobbin of wool in a couple of hours. 100 yards of worsted yarn in a couple of days. When it comes to crafty stuff, I've got some of that stuff. I also play guitar, though not so much anymore, and I used to sing quite well, with a voice more akin to Janis Joplin than to Karen Carpenter, but I love to sing in both styles. All this means I'm pretty ordinary (no herb on me), at least to myself. Others claim differently, and it "tickles me", but beyond that, I know my own worth--in my eyes and in other's eyes, but my worth to God? Ah...well, in some ways, God thinks I've got all the herb I need (meaning that he thinks I'm spiffy, I guess. It's hard to know, and you can't just ASK about something like that.), but He says in other places that his creation (meaning us) is as grass (more herb?), here today, gone tomorrow, and that he is no respecter of persons...this means that as grand as Billy Graham is, when it comes to God's perception, Bill and I are pretty much the same.

You see, the measuring stick isn't "each other". The measuring stick is God. So if you don't believe in God, it makes things very convenient for you to think of yourself as better than anyone (or everyone) else, or disappointed in yourself--but at least you don't have to measure up to perfection, which none of us can do, no matter how hard we might try. And that makes it convenient for you, and you can go on living your life, working your magic, or playing mean little games, all your life.

Then you die and it's all over. The final act for you. Truly meaningless. Unless you leave millions of dollars to your heirs, who will use it to it's advantage or waste it, dependent on their ability. But you won't care, because you're dead. Nothing left.

But for those who have faith that God will keep his promise, the final act isn't really the final act. After the curtain call, there's a big cast party, with lots of food and wine, where everyone is glad that the show's all over, and while it was a good closing night, there's a nice, warm bed in a nice, comfortable hotel room, where the pool doesn't have algae...ever...and that's where I hope to be headed.

I'll keep the light on for you...just in case.

So don't throw the baby out with the bathwater. If the Bible is flawed, it's flawed because men wrote down things the way that they understood them, men being flawed and all that...the fact is that they TRIED. Maybe they failed. But you really have to read the book to determine one way or the other, and most folks who want to argue about the Bible want to debunk its claims in this or that section. I still feel that there is SOMETHING in there for everyone--something that they need to hear, something that their heart needs to hear--even if it's the smallest little thing--and if you don't look, you're sure to miss it. The Bible is a lot of things to a lot of people. For some, it's fiction. For some, it's Myth. For some, it's the very word of God. For some it's a literary masterpiece.

I'll remind you here, that Buck Rogers in the 21st century was thought to be ridiculous at one time.

I'll keep the light on for you...just in case.

Friday, May 20, 2011

Well, What Do You Know! Mawning Aweddy!

I'm not sure why, but the arrival of morning, at 4 am, always surprises me--and angers me--and frustrates me--all at the same time. These are the mornings that my dog hears the early bird getting the worm, and chirping himself silly over the fact. Mandy figures that's her cue to yip that she wants to go potty.

I figure it's my cue to put the pillow over my head and smother myself...but that's just me, I think.

Last night I worked on another Grandmother's Favorite Dishcloth, trying to use up some scraps. I was probably another 12 rows away from being done, and horror of horrors, I ran out of yarn.

Now this isn't a huge difficulty, because it's

Just a Dishcloth


I can always use another color to finish off those last 12 rows. And because it's not a perfect cloth, I can use it for washing dishes...yes...sure...I can do that.

But somehow it just feels wrong. It would have been nicer to do the cloth one less (or two less) of the center, and I think that's what I'm going to do today. Rip out to the middle and begin the decreases again.

This means it will be the longest time I've spent knitting a dishcloth (THREE ENTIRE DAYS!) but it will be worth it to have a cloth of one color.

So that's my plan. In the meanwhile, I'll make a mental note that even if I have more than half a skein of yarn, I will work a shorter version of GFD, so that I have something left over for the Log Cabin Scrappy Doo. With this skein, there was zip remaining, so I feel sort of upset about that.

It's another work day, but it's the last one for this week. Apparently, hubby has obtained some assistance for the yard work this weekend, so I might get out of it by working inside the house on Saturday and Sunday, and finally get a grip on Rhiannon. So why does that feel so wrong? We are going to shave up some of the trees, take down the fences and some of the lean-to's we built for our sheep, make a very large retaining wall out next to the road and try to even out our yard, and put in flowers and plants to make the place pretty again this year. It's a lot for just us, and so we've been looking around for a younger person to help out. We think we finally found one. I keep telling my husband that he has to make friends with a younger man, so that he has somebody who will come over now and again and help out with the stuff that is clearly getting harder and harder for him to do. I see a condo in our future. I'm hoping that the condo is in Arizona, for the dry heat. Someplace away from the cold mountains, but not so close to the border to be dangerous to life and limb.

Well, I have to get my shower. I'm exhausted. I feel about |---| much ambition to put toward work and |------------------------------------| ambition to stay home and do nothing. It's a losing battle. With hubby retired, I really would rather stay home with him. I really resent that he gets to stay home, while I still have to work. All for the health insurance. There's just got to be something better than that. Sigh. I suppose I could go forward with the pillow (see paragraph 1), but the shower sounds pretty good. Maybe I'll just take it one step at a time. Too many of those, however, and I'll be at the office again for the next 9 hours. So long for now.

Thursday, May 19, 2011


Everyone has trouble with kitchener stitch, also called grafting.

Recently, I had the necessity to teach a friend kitchener over the internet, and ended up sending her (mostly) this. I thought it would be helpful for others--because I explain it so concisely. I think once you've worked it through once or twice, you'll find that you wonder why you ever had trouble with it before.

First, a little preparation--

Make sure that you have lots of uninterrupted time. You will need your work, a tapestry needle and a red life line (unless the work is red, in which case, use a white life line)

Put in a RED (or other contrasting color) life line on this last row of stitches. This will give you a “marker” to tell you where to tighten up the Kitchener. Work loosely the first time through, because you can then go back when you’re done to snug up the stitches. This is not hard, but you only want to snug them up so that they look like stockinette stitches. The end result SHOULD NOT SHOW A SEAM.

Let's say you bought a sweater at the store, and it was too short or two long. You can use this SAME PROCESS to insert (or take out) length. You just remove a row of stitches, put both sides on a separate  needle and follow the Kitchener process to join it back together again! Cool, huh?

Remember to work somewhat loosely, and always keep the finishing yarn underneath the needles. You don’t need to be so loose that it gets in the way, but you should not have them so tight either….

The work is in two pieces, WRONG SIDES TOGETHER, on the needles…one in the back (designated BN or bn for back needle) and one in the front (designated FN or fn for front needle) the “n” stands for needle…so if I tell you kfn, you use the tapestry needle as your knitting needle and insert it into the first stitch on the front needle as if to knit. Likewise, there will be kbn (knit back needle) pfn (purl front needle) and pbn (purl back needle).

Note: You are not actually going to KNIT or PURL with the tapestry needle, but rather use it from either the left side or the right side of the stitch leg that faces you. You will go THROUGH the stitch with the tapestry needle as if you were going to "gather up the loops".

So here are some new terms, and just for us. Other people explain it differently, and it would get lengthy and cumbersome to type all of that, over and over and over…which is unnecessary. After you do this a time or two, you will never forget it.

ALSO—you may have heard this terminology---“same off, opposite on”…which is terminology that others use to describe the process of Kitchener. It means that if you are knitting (with the tapestry needle) on the first stitch on the front needle (remember knits are facing you), then you will, after knitting it, drop it off the needle (designated as (drop) here). Likewise, if you purl the stitch on the back needle, you will drop it off. However, if you purl on the front needle, you will leave it on the needle, and if you knit a stitch on the back needle, you will leave it on…that’s what it means…SAME OFF, OPPOSITE ON.

Are you ready?

Deep breath.

It’s really not as hard as it sounds

Do each step slowly. When you are confident you understand the repetition, you can go for it.

To begin:

With the tapestry needle, pfn, *kbn, kfn (drop) pfn, pbn (drop), repeat from * all the way across both needles until you have just one stitch left on the back needle, pbn and drop.

Very important that you make sure that you are weaving the correct stitch at the correct time. This is why you don’t want to set it down, because you will forget where you are…trust me, I’ve tried this over and over again, and tried to come back to it, and ended up with holes—and you don’t want a hole in your work!

Now, after you do that last stitch, the loops will be very loose. Here’s where you’re going to go back to the beginning and snug up the stitches, and why I told you to use a red life line. The loops should always be between the red life line. As you go snugging, (use the tapestry needle to help) the loop will get bigger and bigger, just hold it to the side of the work where you’ve finished, and grab the next side of the loop. After about 10 sts, the finished product will appear before your eyes like magic, and it will look just as if you knit it. If you look at your knitting (stockinette) you will see that the yarn weaves up and down the stitch below and above. This weaving technique is just exactly the same. It is just too cool to describe. Go all the way across snugging up all the stitches, just so that they look like stockinette. When you get to the last stitch, snug it up too, then return the tapestry needle to the yarn and finish off the end, weaving it to the inside of the work and back and forth through the stitches on the inside.

That’s it!

Now before you say “OMG! That’s so much to remember!" Keep in mind that I’m being “wordy” here. If I had you in front of me, I would say “here” a lot. Showing you would be one of these AHA! Moments. If you still feel intimidated, or it doesn’t look right after you've worked the stitches, you can always remove it and try again--that’s why the lifeline!!

When you're done, you can pull out the lifeline and admire your work!

Dishcloths all over the Place

I've been working on my log cabin scrappy doo--it's coming along really well, but I'm finding that the cotton that I made cloths out of already--well, there's more *there* than I thought there was.

You see, I was on a dishcloth "kick" for a long while, and twice a month, I'd buy perhaps 2-4 skeins of kitchen cotton in a variety of colors, since I couldn't decide usually which color I wanted to make the cloth out of most weeks. Currently, I have a drawer full of cloths (so full that they've spilled over into the next drawer), and I've given quite a few away to family and friends, and still have a fair number left.

But it's the leftovers that have me stumped. Where did all this kitchen cotton come from? Because there I an entire bag of it. Some of the leftovers are enough to do a second cloth--rather than put on my "Scrappy Doo", so I decided to make a Grandmother's Favorite out of the more generous leftovers.

Grandmother's Favorite is a very common cloth. It's one of my favorites for bath time, and it works up really fast. It's made on the diagonal, starting from a corner with only 3 stitches. Here's the pattern, recreated from my head.

Grandmother's Favorite
Size 6 16" circular needle
About half a skein of kitchen cotton, any color.

k1fb=knit one in the front leg AND in the back leg
yo=yarn over

Cast on 3 stitches, using the backward "e" cast on (also known as the thumb cast on)

Row 1: k1fb, k2
Row 2: k1fb, k3
Row 3: k1fb, k4
Row 4: k1fb, k5-7 sts
Row 5: k3, yo, k rest of sts.
Row 6 to whenever you feel like quitting: k3, yo, k rest of sts.
Row ?: K2, k2tog, yo, k across remaining sts.
Repeat this row until 7 stitches remain.
Next row: K2 tog, k remaining sts.
Repeat this row until 3 sts remain. Bind off and hide your ends.

Remember that the number of stitches on your needle is not what determines WIDTH. The side where the holes are does, so keep knitting until the SIDE is the width you want.


So this is the cloth that I'm doing before I add to my "Scrappy Doo". It's almost 20" across now. It's growing by leaps and bounds. It's quite a bit of boring knitting, though, and I'm due for a new project. I've been thinking about Rhiannon quite a bit lately, and might pull that out, but after a hard day at the office (and believe me, lately, they've been really hard), my brain is MUSH, and about all I can handle is something simple while I watch television.

This weekend hubby and I are looking forward to sunshine and burning up the plastic stuff the county put down to hold down the grass seed, which has made a mess of our hill. We're bringing in landscaping and lots of topsoil. I figure we'll be outdoors most of the weekend. I'm hoping for some trees and maybe some retaining wall, some flowers, and more grass--I've got a few ideas that I'd like to try, but you know that you can't go hog wild when you butt up against country ground.

Well, it's almost time for me to leave the house for the office. Not really looking forward to getting there, but I suppose it's a necessary evil. I wonder if there's time for coffee?

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Day 5-Final Day!

This is Day 5 of the Mystery Knit Along. By now, you might be guessing (if you haven't already figured it out).

Day 5:
Row 31: k3, p8, k14, p10, k3
Row 32: k13, p14, k11
Row 33: k3, p8, k14, p10, k3
Row 34: k13, p4, k1, p5, k1, p3, k11
Row 35: k3, p8, k2, p3, k1, p1, k1, p3, k3, p10, k3
Row 36-39: k38

Pattern: Potted Tulip.
I hope you enjoyed my little KAL. I know I did! Have fun, and please use the dishcloth for it's intended purpose. You can make as many as you want, and sell them for charity purposes only, please. You may share the pattern, but please do not SELL the pattern--if I give freely, I expect you to do the same.

Thanks for coming to my blog, and if you'd like to leave a comment, feel free to do so!

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Day 4!

Here's Day 4 of the Mystery Knit Along:

Day 4:
Row 23: k3, p5, k1, p8, k2, p9, k1, p6, k3
Row 24: k18, p4, k16
Row 25: k3, p12, k7, p13, k3
Row 26: k15, p9, k14
Row 27: k3, p10, k10, p12, k3
Row 28: k14, p12, k12
Row 29: k3, p8, k14, p10, k3
Row 30: k13, p14, k11

Monday, May 16, 2011

Day 3!

Here's Day 3 of the Mystery Knit Along!

Day 3:
Row 15: k3, p14, k3, p15, k3
Row 16: k18, p7, k13
Row 17: k3, p8, k13, p11, k3
Row 18: k13, p5, k1, p2, k1, p6, k10
Row 19: k3, p6, k6, p2, k2, p2, k6, p8, k3
Row 20: k11, p6, k2, p2, k3, p6, k8
Row 21: k3, p5, k5, p4, k2, p4, k6, p6, k3
Row 22: k9, p3, k7, p2, k7, p3, k7

Sunday, May 15, 2011

Day 2!

Here's Day 2 of the Mystery Knit Along:

Day 2:
Row 7: k3, p9, k11, p12, k3
Row 8: k15, p11, k12
Row 9: k3, p9, k11, p12, k3
Row 10: k14, p13, k11
Row 11: k3, p7, k15, p10, k3
Row 12: k13, p15, k10
Row 13: k3, p7, k15, p10, k3
Row 14: k19, p2, k17

Saturday, May 14, 2011

Shall We Try a Mystery Knit Along?

I've been thinking about this for a while, and thought this might be a good venue for trying a knit along--or KAL as it's abbreviated. I thought a dishcloth might be a good idea, since I'm pretty sure I could come up with one fairly easily.

Now, materials...

I generally use one or the other Peaches N Creme or Sugar N Cream--Peaches is softer (I think), but harder to come by, but can be ordered online. Sugar N Cream is nearly everywhere. But you can sub in any "kitchen cotton" yarn, as long as you get approximately 4 stitches to the inch in stockinette on size 8's. I would use a solid color, so that the "pattern" shows up--something in a floral shade--just not too dark. Pastels will work lovely.

Now this is a mystery KAL, so you won't know what you're knitting until the end of the knitting.

I think I will release rows 6-7 per day, so that the pattern will take about 5 days to come about. I wouldn't want to tax anyone's karma!

And feel free to share this pattern with your friends! I would like more traffic on this blog, so share the link, too!

Here GOES!

May 14 Rows:

Rows 1-4: K
Row 5: K3, p11, k7, p14, k3
Row 6: k16, p9, k13

To be continued tomorrow! Tune in!

Thursday, May 12, 2011

Cameo in the Myrtle

Sent via DROID on Verizon Wireless

Scarf Started...

The pattern called for two balls of the Lion Brand Organic Cotton.

Every pattern I've done for JoAnn's has had MORE THAN ENOUGH YARN FOR THE PROJECT. Not just a few yards, but practically the entire skein remains.

This time, the pattern was short SEVERAL yards. I'll be changing the pattern to 3 balls of yarn, because to work this up with the hook specified, there is just not enough to reach the end of the project. I have to go get another skein to finish.

This was disappointing, since I was hoping to turn it in today after work, and I'll have another 20 minutes or so of work on it before I can actually call it done.

And then, I will have practically a whole skein left--as usual. Do you suppose it was a typo on the pattern?

It really ticks me off, but then, lately, EVERYTHING is ticking me off, so what's new.

Pics tomorrow when the scarf is done. I did try to take a pic this morning, but the light was just not there, and the flash turns everything yellow--so I can't get a decent picture that shows off the colors to their full advantage. Maybe it will look good later hanging on the lilac bush, which, by the way, is loaded with buds and posies.

Why on earth is JoAnn's doing a scarf at the beginning of spring? I'll never know. The yarn is pretty and springy, and it's a ruffle (also springy). Maybe that's the reason.

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

The New Firefox is Out

Just downloaded the new Firefox. They've put the tabs up on the top, which looks cleaner. Beyond that, I don't see a lot of changes. I would guess that most of the changes aren't visible, which is par for the course. There will be lots of updates in the near future, because you know that they can't get "everything". I like Firefox's interface, but also have Google Chrome, because it automatically translates the page for you--I'm pretty sure that Firefox will institute that function as soon as they can get their developers on the program--in fact, if you look for something through Google, there's a little (Translate this page) on the Google Search, so sometimes you can get it, sometimes not. You never know though. It could be there now.

I started another sample for JoAnn's. This is going fairly quickly. I got two rows done already, and I plan to take it to the office with me--even though I will lay odds that I won't have lots of time today to work on it. It's a Ruffled Scarf. I need to have it done before the end of work today. It's an easy pattern that I could probably share in a day or two, after I adjust it for my own sense of adventure. Then it will be available for free here, so keep your eyes peeled.

Well, I have to let the dog out and get rid of my morning chores.

As a last minute item, though, I got an email from the person who runs the spinning group that I used to attend VERY regularly. She asks me "Haven't seen you in a few meetings. Are you allright?"

Well, no, thank you very much for asking, I am definitely NOT allright, and I'm pretty ticked off that you EMAILED me, instead of coming over to ask me--since of course, you live only 4 miles away, but nevermind that. I'm tired of being your last choice for a friend, deleted your email without responding and will not be returning to your Monday afternoon "get togethers", since I have a job, and all your friends are retired and can "take off and have fun" at the drop of a hat. I spent a lot of time and money trying very hard to be YOUR friend, only to find out that I was constantly the last one chosen for the game, and felt hurt, betrayed and defeated by that behavior, and it's not like it only happened once. This last time, indeed, was the last time. It's over.

So time to get my chores done and head to work. I'll have that pattern for all my readers in a few days, so stay tuned.

Sunday, May 8, 2011

Projects...projects...Who's Got the Project...

I worked on two projects at JoAnn's yesterday. A dishcloth and a block for an afghan--both finished and put on the board, but neither got a picture. I figure that I'll make another today. The pattern was pretty easily done.

The beginning for the dishcloth used an alternate beginning, and while I know that this one is practically EVERYWHERE, I seldom use it, and I don't know why I seldom use it. It's a perfectly good center.

The one I'm talking about is where you wrap the yarn around your finger, and then crochet into the loop. When you're done with your crocheting, you then pull on the short string, and the loop shrinks to nearly nothing, and you keep on crocheting. It works as a good center for knitting circular shawls too--that simple little crocheted loop, and I'm going to incorporate it into my next circular knitting project.

But for the moment, I have samples that I have to knit and crochet. I have the pattern for the dishcloth knit, and it's blocking on the kitchen counter. I really should have blocked it on my blocking board. The poor thing is horribly misshapen.  For whatever reason, the knitting biased on me. I think it might be because of the row of k 2 tog's--which cause a right leaning stitch--and this stitch is on the wrong side, which causes the right side to lean significantly to the left.

First, I'm going to try a SEVERE BLOCKING on the board, because I have to think about this and how to counter it. The only thing I can think of at the moment is to have the row alternate between k2tog and ssk---and I think that I will try it, if only to see if it fixes the biasing issue.

Sugar and Creme 1 ball in Tangerine--which seemed a new color, and yes, I needed a break from the horrible drab of winter, so it's orange. Have you got something against orange? I like orange! It's bright and fun and really makes me smile on dreary days when I'm doing dishes in the sink, looking out my kitchen window and wishing I was somewhere warm and sunny.

Today, hubby and I plan to go to his mother's for Mother's Day. His brother is visiting, and we don't get to see much of him. Hubby needs to mow the lawn, and it's going to be quite tall because the neighbor didn't have the time to help this first mow, and so it's been left a week too long. This means that the brother's will need to rake grass. Hubby is showering now, having breakfasted--and I caught a few pics of him in the shower. It's sort of funny how he has no sense of privacy--he and I grew up quite differently--he with 3 siblings and a smaller house with only one bathroom that required everyone to Plan things--such as showering and such. I had only one sibling, we each had our own bedroom, and the house was large, but there was still only 1 bathroom. Back then, homes with 3 bathrooms were practically unheard of! Yes, I'm older than dirt, thank you very much. But back to my original thought. Today, we are going to his mother's, and Tuesday, I will go to my mother's. My brother has already done all the "mother's day" type "stuff" that children do for their parents, so I have to figure out something else. A card, of course--but after that, I'm completely lost. I noticed a really pretty cane at the grocery story pharmacy yesterday, and I thought...hmmm. Mom's is strictly utilitarian--silver grey and not very "individualized". My husband said to give her a couple of plant hangers in two of his plant stands, and she would like that. It's a bit early for putting plants outdoors, but she would like plants.

But today, at hubby's mother's house, I'll have time to knit and crochet, and I plan to do both--because I want to recreate the patterns at home. I am trying to do the blocks for the afghan in a certain size, and I just got back the block from the last period for measurement. I'm tickled at the prospect.