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?