Just a Size Larger

The sweater, it grows.

The child, she complains.

The mom, she sighs.

Could it possibly be a wretched form of PMS? Or has she truly lost her 9 year old mind? Will either of us survive this phase?

Yesterday she broke out in hives after putting on sunscreen. Why would I buy sunscreen that irritates her sensitive skin, you ask? Well, of course I didn't! We use a special sunscreen formulated to shade the whitest skin on earth from those deadly rays while moisturizing and maintaining an irritant-free formula for ultra-hivey skin. She used the neighbor's. "Well, I was going to read the ingredients, but they had worn off."

SO SHE USED IT ANYWAY. The kid who is allergic to life, used a cream on her person, without reading the ingredients.

Then, at the suggestion of the 8 year old teenager next door, she proceeded to "lay out" in the sun. Yes, let's have Whitey McIrish Pants lay out in the blazing sun after putting suspicious cream on her person. Brilliant!

There isn't enough Benadryl in the world for this kid's lapse of judgement. (or enough Jameson's for me)

For which part, exactly?

Handlettered sign in the front door of the deli across the street:

Restrooms for Customer's Only


Also, I have a raw patch on my hand where a blister formed and then ripped off, and an even larger patch around it where a donut of a blister formed the next day and now the entire mess is angry with me, swollen and itching. I was using a hoe.

SP's sweater is moving right along. The spider plant was happy to model the progress, but is not the intended recipient.
Yes, those are turquoise and yellow pony tail bands. They make nice stitch markers. (Raglan sweater, top down, done in Kraemer's Tatamy Tweed on US size 6 circulars.)

These cute little booties were done on US size 6 dpns, in Wool of the Andes wool. Notice my very first project using cables, I am so proud of myself. I have a cute little baby in mind for these, the adorable daughter of a friend. Hope she has large toes.

I am a knitting fool!

Is It Love or Just Gas?

Conversation in the kitchen this morning:

Small Person: Hey mom, who's your favorite Naked Brother?

me: Ummm, dunno. Who's yours?

SP: Nat, he's the cutest one.

me: So what are you saying, you LIKE him?

SP: No, he likes Rosalina.

me (in teasing voice): Aww, does that make you sad? Are you in lo-o-ove?

SP (using voice of disdain for my utter lack of reality and beginning to understand that her mother will not make it easy for her): No, he doesn't know I exist.

Things You Shouldn't Say to a Clergyman

"...And then my mom says to me 'Jesus Christ, kid!'."


Oh, yes... she did.

Back In The Saddle Again

So other than the Small Person getting on my EVERY LAST NERVE lately (pms, anyone?) things around here are much the same. I am working at the farm again, which is wonderful. I need the activity and love the work, and the veggies are a nice incentive as well. Also, that attractive farmer's tan where you have a half moon of burn/tan on your lower backside from bending over and your shirt riding up? Can NOT live without that for the summer. Today we'll be harvesting for the pick up, but on Tuesday SP and I cut up seed potatoes for planting. Lots of them. Reminds me of being poor and planting our family garden to feed us through the winter, (and none of that frou-frou arugula and tiny heirloom eggplant shit, we're talking FOOD) and then my dad's back went out the week the potatoes needed to be dug NOW and all my sister's school friends came over and dug potatoes for 2 days and my mom's kitchen was piled full of dirty, earth smelling potatoes until we got them all stored/canned/dealt with. And yes, we canned potatoes.

I need to get inspired and get some cash for my own yard. It's looking... empty. Always a question as to how much we're going to put into it (work and money) as we rent and in case you hadn't noticed, the house is up for sale. Had a major inspection on the house yesterday for an interested buyer. What a pain in the tush that was! Six different 'experts' looking at the various parts of the house, including but not limited to termites, septic, appraisals, mortgage advisor, etc. The interested couple seems nice and they might actually take care of the house, which is more than I can say for our current landlord. We'll see. There is a problem with wiring on the other side of the duplex, and of course we knew the septic would never pass inspection. The poor gentleman saddled with the task of evaluation that particular pit of shit was in for a surprise. After running my water for only 25 minutes (of his planned 1 hour) he was enthusiastically surprised (seriously, he was nearly hopping up and down with the discovery) to find water on his pointy hole poking stick, OUTSIDE the septic tank. Well, pal, if the smell doesn't clue you in, that might be an indication of a problem. When I asked (after closing the kitchen windows to avoid the smell permeating the house) if I could turn the water off now, he said "Yes, I think I have enough to write my report." I'll bet you do, pal.

The Happy Hopping Moron stayed home yesterday and sat in his garage on a camping chair, radio blasting, watching the proceedings over here. As soon as all my 'company' left I closed the door. Just in time, too, as he was heaving himself off the chair to come and chat me up for any information. NOT TODAY, ASSHOLE! I have never seen a person less interested in working for a living, and more interested in gossip. He's like an old lady, spreading the news of the street, eyes peeled for interesting things happening. Admittedly, it can be handy if there's something going on and we need info, but also difficult to ascertain the truth, as he's an experienced truth-stretcher. He gets a bit out of hand at times.

Knitting is fantastic! I'm on my second pair of socks. Yes, socks. I am now a sock knitter, and just so damn happy that I can create nifty things! And there's a knitting group! They (we) meet at Panera Bread (how convenient for my thighs, they were looking for a way to take over the world) twice a month. Unfortunately for me, so far the every-other-Saturday schedule seems to coincide with The Earner's working Saturdays. So I drag the Small Person along, and of course she loves it, she knits, she thinks they're her friends. And I'm left once again wishing I had one damn thing I could do BY MYSELF. Maybe in 10 years I'll be able to walk out the door, alone, without having to wrangle a certain someone's hair into a presentable shape, without barking orders about what to bring, what not to bring, and close the door behind you!

Has It Really Been That Long?

It only felt like three days!

I packed and got us ready for our Big Trip. Then we sat in the Philadelphia airport for 14 hours (well, the other two sat, I stood in line for over 8 of those hours), only to go home at 1am, exhausted, frustrated, and unsuccessful. Tried again 2 days later and finally made it out of the area, only to have our luggage lost for 3 days. Apparently persons with heavy accents sitting at desks in God-knows-where are not able to help me locate my luggage. Those sticky tags with bar codes placed on each piece of luggage? Just for show. "Well, Mees Bay-erg, if dey are not es-canned, den we cannot locate dem. Call beck in tree how-ars."

After finally getting a call from a lovely (English speaking) gentleman in Minneapolis, who was understandably concerned as to why MY luggage was sitting around in his area (not the airline we flew, not the airline our luggage flew) unclaimed for 3 days, I was thrilled to hear that he could get my luggage to me on the next flight to Denver. I think I told him I loved him (might have just been the dizziness from altitude), and we drove to the airport to intercept our luggage, not wanting to chance another mishap caused by the airline that was SUPPOSED to find the luggage and deliver it to our hotel. I can not even begin to describe the feeling of joy when I walked up to the spinning carousel and snatched our bags right off it. I stacked them up and wheeled them out of the airport and popped them right into the rental car The Earner had idling at the curb. Success!

After that the trip perked up a bit. We were able to wear our own clothes instead of the discount store specials I picked up on sale at Walmart. I was never so happy to see my blowdryer and shoes. Oh, how I loved the new shoes I got for my cousin's wedding. (which was the whole point of the trip.) (the wedding, not the shoes.)

Anyway, the trip was grand, up until the point my child ate a cupcake made especially for her. The cupcake that was supposed to be egg and dairy free. The cupcake that was not to contain any of the foods she is severely allergic to. The cupcake that got her an epi-pen injection, an IV, an ambulance ride, and a 3 hour emergency room visit while wearing formal attire.

ps. she's fine now.