Drive-By Thinking.

i just dropped a chocolate chip down my blouse.

Oh, hi. Yeah. I know it's here somewhere…

Anywho, happy mother's day to all you mothers (as Daddy used to say, with a decidedly un-family friendly inflection on the last word). Hope it went well for everyone. I got a lovely potted "plant" from HSH (made in school; it's very cute) and a live plant -- azalea -- that has since been planted and been extraordinarily well watered, thanks to the severe thunderstorms that blasted through here earlier this evening. (Hope y'all in Carolina are okay; you got it worse than we did.)

How was your weekend?

iz in yur rozez, eatin yur aphidz

Found this little dude crawling rather determindly toward my giant sprawling rose bush. Him and at least ten of his closest relatives. Nice little critters, ladybugs. I don't usually get at grass level, but since I was trying to stretch out my back after painting 9 out of 15 shutters

whoa. you painted?

Finally. Only four weeks after sanding the things down, I finally got around to slapping a coat of paint on them. Look:

Actual painting was actually occurring. The shutters are all done, which was quite the accomplishment when you consider that this is how the sky looked immediately behind me:

It never actually did rain -- did spit down a few drops as if to say, "I could rain if I really wanted to" -- but other than that, I had smooth sailing.

we interrupt this blog post for the following announcement:

I would like to issue an apology to the entire arachnid community for the accidental painting over of one of your relatives. It was totally unintentional and I assure you that I feel awful about it. However, I would like to point out that the planning charts and demolition orders have been on display in your local planning department for some time now, so you've had plenty of time to lodge any formal complaint and it's far too late to start making a fuss about it now.* No apology will be forthcoming for the thorough smashing of one of your brethren in my shower. Bloody rude of him to be in there in the first place. I mean, really. Can't a girl get any privacy?

back to your regularly scheduled reading.

My back and neck still hurt like hell. Something about being bent at a weird angle on a ladder for four hours that sort of does that to you. Likely the spiders think I had it coming to me.

knitting?

Yeah, but it's been difficult holding onto the needles for all the stiffness in my aged body. I'm nine inches into the bamboo top (so far, so good; six more increases to go) and have done a few repeats on the Mom Sock.

Yes, it really is that intense. Apple Laine's Apple Pie in "Arizona." Crosshatch lace pattern from More Sensational Knitted Socks. Mom actually requested one of the Stansfield patterns but I kept effing it up.

Oh, and I have to share…

HSH and I eat alone four nights out of seven. With the price of gas and groceries and little miss picky eater's expectations of what should be on the dinner table, I've little incentive to cook. So we go out most of the time. No four-star restaurants, mind, usually just a quick sandwich or the salad bar at the grocery store. Stuff like that. Well, we left KFC downtown Friday evening and as we walked across the parking lot I happened to look up at the retaining wall separating the lot from the house next door. Y'all, there were nine cats sitting along the length of that wall. Nine. Not bothered by the steady stream of traffic, just lazily staring back at everyone, cleaning themselves, stretched out on the fence…. Either the hunting must be good along that stretch of the river, the dumpster diving fruitful, or the house beyond them feeds well. They appeared to be in good condition.

Well, I thought it was interesting.

______

*with apologies to the late Douglas Adams.

yawn…[stretch]…ouch.

You can be pretty sure that it's not going to be a banner day when the first words you utter upon waking are:

"oh shit."

Yeah. Damn fine start to the morning, that oversleeping by a full 30 minutes (began to write "full half hour" but decided the syntax was lacking in logic). Somehow I managed to get out of the house on time (splash water on the important bits, scrub, rinse, run like hell), only to get tied up in the wonderful combination of fog and early morning traffic that is the interstate.

bugger.

All-in-all, only five minutes late. Topic of discussion at the morning's department meeting? "Tardiness."

bugger that, too.

In entertainment news, I got to watch my supervisor throw a hissy fit today. Not at me, or because of something I'd done. In defense of me. Hot damn. Things are looking up. Well, if you ignore the 32-page program and two 16-page newsletters that she threw on my desk shortly thereafter.

job security?

For now.

what about the "ouch" part?

Couldn't sleep last night [again]. Woke up shortly after dropping off with a panic attack (why these things come at night I'll never know). Consequently fell asleep all tense and contorted and woke up sore and searching for the tire tracks to identify the truck that must have run me over sometime during the night. [Mom, I'm fine. Really.]

why aren't you sleeping?

Dunno. Getting a few things finished, though. Like the second Kaylee sock. I'm not going to swamp you with pictures because the second sock looks exactly like the first, as photographed earlier. See?

Well okay, that's the first sock. But it looks just like the other one.

Details:
Pattern: Kaylee, by MommaMonkey (a.k.a. the late, great, Gigi Silva). I'm not linking to the pattern because it's not one that's been officially re-released for distribution by her husband yet.
Yarn: All Things Heather Sock II in Periwinkle, by way of Loopy Ewe.
Needles: my old standby Susan Bates Quicksilver dpns in US 2
Notes: For my size 10.5 feet, I did 24 repeats of the pattern. It goes fast, it's instantly satisfying, and although I never would have figured a sock cast on with this few stitches would make it around my fat foot, it did and comfortably. If and when you get a chance to knit this pattern, do so. You won't regret it.

I also finished the first of HSH's latest pair, the plain 2x2 ribs in Wildfoote. I knit an entire foot during the baseball game Saturday night. Second sock was started today, while I waited for the girl at China Wok to serve up my Kung Pao chicken.

ted socks?

Umm… I think I goofed. Ted, if you're reading this, I'll be sending you one to try on. Send it back and tell me where I went wrong. I don't think you need a sock THIS big.

But hey, look!

The Mr. Lincoln rose went into "bouquet-on-a-stick" mode. Honest to pete. It's done this every year -- grows 6 to 8 stems, buds each one, and they all explode within a few days of each other. And dang, are they fragrant.

Something pea-d in the garden.

The rhododendrons also exploded.

It was school picture day today. You can dress her up but…

Someone tell me she didn't do that for the actual picture. Please.

eryn… this one's for you.

Tagged and it's a good thing. You may all thank Eryn for providing a good and timely change of subject!

the rules:

Link to your tagger and post these rules on your blog. Share 7 facts about yourself on your blog, some random, some weird. Tag 7 people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blogs. Let them know they are tagged by leaving comments on their blogs.

As usual I play with the caveat that me no linkee. If you want to join in, by all means do, and don't forget to let us know you did so that we can see what you wrote.

the serendipity:

1. I begin each morning with a mad sneezing fit. Whether I need to or not. In fact, it's the surest way to tell whether I'm truly awake. It lasts anywhere from fifteen minutes to five hours, regardless of humidity level, airborne allergens or moon phase. It's a right pain in the ass. Especially when you have a mouthful of toothpaste.

2. I can kill the better part of a workday obsessing over the amount of space separating two letters. Granted, in my profession it's considered part of the job but most people just think I'm weird. I'm a typography geek and proud of it. My college roommate might have had a poster of a bare-chested Kip Winger hanging over her bed (It was 1988. Who did you expect?) but I had the Letraset type catalog promo foldout tacked over mine, and boy was that exciting. Yeah, I didn't get out much….

3. I can sing most of Schoolhouse Rock from memory. The history bits were my particular favorite. This served little purpose except possibly to annoy the living snot out of my brother.

4. My favorite opera is Tosca. Not just because it's short; not just because it has one of the most fabulous love songs of all time in it, and in spite of the fact that there's not a low-voiced female role in it. I think it's because of the fact that the soprano has to jump to her death from the castle parapets at the end (you know, after she gets her boyfriend shot by a firing squad). The alto in me gets a strange thrill out of seeing a soprano go down in flames. Nothing personal, mind….

5. I want to drive a bobsled. Just once. Maybe more if I like it.

6. I just reshuffled the party mix on my iTunes. The random first ten include Los Lobos, Dean Martin, Level 42, Indigo Girls, Club for Five, Jimmy Buffett, ABBA, Manhattan Transfer, Living Colour and Cheap Trick. If that doesn't run the gamut, I'm not sure what does.

7. I used to be a guy named Chuck.

Just kidding. Wanted to make sure everyone was still paying attention. (Hi, Mom.)

7.5. I once dated two guys at the same time (not that odd) who both shared the same first name. (Odd, but not too odd.) It made a lot of things simpler. (You figure out the details -- I'm not saying. And I'm not saying which name it was, lest Hizzoner be scoping this out.)

_____

Okay, that's enough about me. What about you?

and now to our reporter in the field:

Not really reporting, but checking in.

Thanks for the well-wishes. Like I said, we're fine. Lost the chimney cap (again), found all the chairs, and the rosebush looks like it'll recover. Having had a chance to collect all the reports and drive around a little bit myself, it's clear that 1 - the damage is classic tornado in that it's highly localized, and 2 - it's a damn miracle that no one got killed. Click on the photos to embiggen and see the detail.

Hard to see in this picture, but this was the beginning of the visible damage. At least, from the main road. A few trees snapped off here and there.

By the time I got home, the crews had already been well into cleanup. Which was good, because very large tree limbs were littering the road from this point on.

This is the hospital exit; the worst of it was concentrated here. Not much to see from the highway, but they were only allowing select cars off the highway here. There used to be a lot more trees there.

And here, too.

And look! Now featuring 50% less tree! Makes me wanna throw up.

If you'd heard about the section called "Driver" in the news, well, this is what's left of it.

Except for the vultures news crews, of course.

And fortunately, those responsible for keeping order.

It could have been a lot worse. This thing was way bigger than any of the usual storms, it hit just as people were getting out of work and picking up kids from schools and day care, it hit without much warning at all (we don't have sirens) and it hit the business center of town. And with no loss of life. Lot of people displaced; lot of property destroyed. But everyone will be okay, and hopefully we can all look back on this one day and …okay, not laugh, but not be so overwhelmed, either.

(Knitting content to resume later. I'm still a little rattled.)

tornadoes suck.

Yeah, they do. Luckily, we escaped the worst of the damage.

This was the worst of what I saw when I dared come out of the closet and look around outside. The neighbors lost this lovely Bradford pear tree.

We had some flotsam littering the road.

I don't believe that this is one of our shingles, but I can't be sure.

And the finches are a trifle pissed off. They'll get over it. After all, they're -- and we are -- lucky to still have a home after this line of thunderstorms ran through this afternoon. Parts of my sleepy little town are still without power, phone service, and closed off to vehicular and foot traffic. Parts just plain old don't exist anymore. The storm skirted my neighborhood, bringing really strong winds (I'm still not sure all the lawn chairs are accounted for) and an inch and a half of rain, but the tornado (estimated F2-3 on the scale) smacked just north of downtown, clipping the hospital, a shopping center, and a bunch of housing developments. And ours wasn't the only city visited. (Click for the story.)

HSH came through it like a trooper. She thought it great fun to stuff the closet full of pillows and sit in it with the radio and a flashlight. I was a little more rattled.

sounds like it's time for a beer.

No, thanks. I reinjured my shoulder and I'll settle for a muscle relaxer and an ibuprofen chaser, if it's all the same to you.

what about your weekend knitting challenge?

The socks? The Ted Socks? Heels on both of 'em, thankyouverymuch. Had to do something during the Rangers-Penguins game yesterday. I'd have taken a picture, but the battery died on the camera shortly after the birdhouse shot and it's still charging.

me… linking to something from CBS.

It may never happen again. But they let Ben Stein have an opinion piece, and unsurprisingly, I agree with him.

Click here for his column.

Also unsurprisingly, I find most of the comments following his piece to have been written by morons. But that's their opinion.

i dun died an' gone to redneck heaven.

I think. Something about that title doesn't quite ring true with me, but…

Today was the annual pig feast at HSH's school. Hers is an extremely small private school, functioning more like a charter school than some exclusive academy. It's not a fancy, well-manicured campus, they don't wear uniforms, etc. Just a small country school that puts their tuition money into actual academics rather than full-color alumni magazines that invariably just ask for money. (Not that I know any schools around here that do that… *ahem*.) So anyway, they have a few fundraising events throughout the year that both, well, raise funds and reach out to the community at the same time. A fall festival, a fish fry, a gala/auction, and a pig feast.

I don't know quite what I was expecting, but it wasn't what I ran into today. The football field was covered in lawn chairs and small tents. The parade float trailers were turned into standing-room eating spots. I counted no fewer than ten of those big black smokers parked on the sidelines, and there had to be a couple of hundred people noshing when we got there, a full three hours after the event officially started.

HSH headed for the inflatable bouncy house and slide. A "country" band, complete with forty-ish lead singer in a lamé tube top and over-snug shorts, was playing everything from Jimmy Buffett to Cheap Trick songs on the stage. A beer truck was handing out cups of brew in the opposing end zone. And for $18.95, we got a plateful of pulled pork barbeque, baked beans, institutional cole slaw, hush puppies, and iced tea.

Oh. My. God.

I pride myself on making some damn good barbeque. The "purists" out there would poo-poo my method of throwing a well-seasoned boston butt roast into my crock pot and cooking it in my secret recipe sauce, but it works, it's outrageously tasty, and I don't have to slave over some big-ass grill in the backyard for eight hours.

I have been bested. And I acknowledge defeat.

There's a lot of places around here that cater by serving the traditional southern pig roast. Most of them serve "Carolina-style," or a vinegar-based, pulled pork. This was no exception. However, it was definitely not your average catered pig. It was well-seasoned, truly pulled and not chopped, perfectly smoked without overpowering, not drowned in sauce…

It was bloody freaking orgasmic.

would you care for a cigarette?

Um, no. No thanks. I'm in control of myself again. Didn't make an ass out of myself in public. Could have probably replicated the famous diner scene from When Harry Met Sally (you know which one I'm talking about), but I didn't.

I may never look at my crock pot the same way again, though. Dang.

and in other news:

Work has temporarily stalled on the new top. Mainly because I am not going to be bested by a damn pair of socks.

I have gotten to the point where the working motto is now, "Heel or Bust." They currently measure 3/4" short of the turning point, which means that overnight I've made a full inch of progress. I tried one on. Way too big for me. I had Hizzoner try it. Slightly too big for him. I'm tempted to turn it now, but I don't really want to ruin what could be a nice functional pair by shorting the foot.

I am turning the heel this weekend if it kills me, and I'm not working on anything BUT these socks until it's done. But not right now. It's 84F out (28.8C), I refuse to turn the air conditioning on when it's only April, and I'm NOT working with merino wool until the temperature drops at least 10 degrees.

guess nothing's getting done, then.

Other than some up-close-and-personal examination of the inside of a Klondike bar, no. K out.

and so passes another week in blogland.

Firstly, thank you all for your lovely comments on the shawl. I have been wearing it all this week and for once -- for once -- I can actually work without shivering. Not that I'm actually getting anything done, but that's another story.

The work situation as a whole has gotten much better. I still feel like the proverbial red-headed stepchild, but the iPod cranked up to eleven makes things much easier as a whole. If I can't hear it, I can't react to it. Thus, less stress. Less stress good.

And I've started something else.

The "Bamboo Peek-a-Boo" from Knit 'N Style. (Nifty stitch marker via Jess.) Just a simple t-shirt, really. And since that's what I really live in all summer, why not try and make one? I'm finally using the bamboo scored in last year's (was it last year?) clearout at Discontinued Name Brand Yarn.com or whatever the hell they're calling themselves now. It's … er… not the nicest texture to work with. At all. Stiff, twiney, almost waxy feeling. However, I DID make a swatch and washed it

alert the media.

Oh, shut up. As I was going to say, the swatch softened up considerably. I'm getting gauge, I measured something I'm actually wearing as opposed to trying to match my own body measurements

whoa. two miracles in one shot. somebody call the vatican.

…and I actually think this one might work. Keep fingers crossed, please. If this top doesn't turn out right, I'll probably do a massive clearout of anything heavier than fingering weight and stick to socks and shawls from now on. Maybe. I dunno. It sounds like a good idea for now.

wisdom from a four-year old.

You'll like this. While watching Dora The Explorer with HSH, I felt compelled to make a snide comment or two back to the television. I mean, really. If the child spent less time talking to the audience and the monkey, she'd SEE the damn fox sneaking up on her. I turned to HSH and said, "Dora's not too bright, is she?"

HSH barely blinked an eye before responding, "No, she's not."

That's my girl.