It's the cat's fault!

Recently, things have been disappearing on me. I'll put my glasses down on side table next to my bed, and when I wake up they won't be there. I end up frantically searching the house (not easy, when you're as near-sighted as I am), and they'll finally show up on top of the refrigerator or some other ridiculous place. I'll set my scissors on the end table next to me, and after a wild search discover that they're in my gym bag. My book walks quietly behind me, turning up wherever I've already looked.

You've probably already jumped to some crazy notion like maybe I'm getting old, or distracted, or the insomnia is finally getting to me. I really don't think it's me. I'm blaming the cat. I think she's still angry that we brought the puppy into the house, and she's trying to drive me crazy in revenge.

 

I mean, just look at her face...

It was a bargain!

Mom and I went yard saling this weekend and although we bought more than we should have we did manage to stay within our budget. (By the way, can I use "yard saling" as a verb? I'm getting a big NO-NO from my spell-check program on this. But we've always referred to it as going yard-saling. "We went to several yard sales" is just too much class and  legitimizes the process beyond its spontaneous cheesiness.)

I passed up a great bargain on a wooden daybed. A few months ago I would have jumped on the chance to get both the daybed of my dreams plus a matching dresser for $75, even though I know that it wouldn't fit into my tiny Kia Rio. Even taken apart, the suggestion given by the desperate owner at the "Moving Tomorrow--Everything Must Go Today" yardsale, the bed would not have fit into the car. Even for $50, it would not have fit into my car. (Although if she had gone any lower, I probably would have  attempted to carry it home on my rooftop!) But just a couple of months ago I was gifted with a wonderful full-size bed and mattress, so I really didn't need the daybed. And since my day's budget was $10, I stayed strong and passed up this terrific bargain.

At the next yard sale I did indulge in a pie crimper, which I probably overpaid trying to get it. It cost $.25 plus the promise of a home-baked pie. But the guy holding the sale was cute and single, so it may still turn out to be a bargain.

I also picked up a couple of nostalgia items: a dvd of the The Borrowers and a Barney-the-Dinosaur puppet.*

I thought I had talked about The Borrowers before, but I can't find that post to link to. When I was a teenager babysitting my younger cousins, I entertained them by convincing them that there were tiny people living in their house. I had read The Borrowers, and basically used it as a bedtime story. What made it fun was that the kids believed me for a really long time. My best friend/cousin helped me keep the story going, to the point that the tale passed into the realm of family legend. In fact, at the last family wedding, the story came up again. So of course I had to get the dvd of the original movie adaptation. It probably isn't as good as my retelling of the book was, but I'm looking forward to watching it. I think it'll be worth the dollar spent.

I'm even more excited to have gotten Barney, and he didn't cost me anything. The people having the yard sale were so entertained by my story of why I wanted him, they gave the toy to me for free. You see, my two oldest were young when Barney was all the craze. It was in the days when parents would fight over the last stuffed-Barney doll in a store, the show was that popular. We had bought a Barney for each of the children, and they loved him. Neither will admit it now, but there was no bedtime without Barney back then. One day I was taking my son for a walk in his stroller while his big sister was in school (kindergarten, age 4) and it wasn't until we got home that I realized Barney had dropped out of the stroller. I frantically retraced our route, but Barney was gone for good. That left us with one doll and two children. My husband and I tried to replace it, but we lived too far out in the country (not a lot of stores) combined with Barney's popularity (not a lot of product to be had). So I spent the next year going to elaborate lengths to share the one Barney between the two children in such a way that neither child would realize that their doll had been lost. It's been 22 years, and I finally have a replacement for the missing Barney. Of course, now neither child will want it. But I finally feel like a good parent again for having gotten the doll back.

By the way, my total purchase for the day, including a third item I'll chat about another time, was $2.25 plus a pie. I love yard-saling!

*These were not from the same sale as the pie crimper. Having a Barney doll for sale would have made me think creepy instead of cute single guy.

Random Guy Drawing

 

I didn't feel like going home and cleaning after work today, so I stopped at the local Barnes & Noble for a coffee and some knitting time. I had my Nook with me, and so I was able to sit and read while working on my My Simple Skype Socks that I started Saturday as an easy project for the car ride to Vero Beach. 

I was distracted by the gentleman sitting at the table next to me. He was sketching the other patrons sitting in the coffee shop. So naturally I had to secretly take a picture of him as he secretly drew a picture of the man across the way from us. Wouldn't it be funny if that man was secretly doing a picture of me knitting? Hmmm.

Snapshot: Let the cat out of the bag

 

I don't usually have paper bags at the house, since I prefer to use the cloth shopping bags, so this was the first time Missy Gray had gotten to play in a bag. Would you believe the silly thing got lost? I heard her crying and went to investigate. She had gone into the bag head-first, but then couldn't figure out how to turn around to come out. I had to tip the bag upside down to empty her out of it. 

Luckily, she wasn't scarred for life. A couple of hours later I found her back in the bag, this time with her head looking out.

You're just a text away

I don't have a picture for today's post, unfortunately. Which is really silly, since my favorite thing for today - my new iphone - has a very convenient built-in camera. And with the data plan and new app that lets me blog from anywhere, you would think that I would have lots of pictures. Give me time to get used to the phone, and I'm sure I will.

I am having a lot of fun with the iphone. I love how easy it is to text now. (Until this phone, I was still using a numeric keypad and pressing 1 over and over to get to "C", then again to get back to "A" and then giving up and just calling my kids and leaving a voice mail  rather than texting them to call me when they got off work.) Now I can even include pictures with the text messages. It's fun!

Yesterday I went to dinner with my daughter. She had come over to the apartment to wait for a package, so I treated her to dinner when I got home. Nothing fancy, just Pollo Tropical around the corner from me. (I can have their vegetarian TropicChop, so it's one of the few "cheap" restaurants I can eat at.) I always have a great time with Becka. We call her the Drama Queen, but it's not in the negative connotation. She's one of the best story-tellers I've ever had the pleasure to talk with. She notices the most ordinary things, and can portray them so that you can see the beauty or humor that she saw in them. Her people skills are amazing as well, and she's always got story or two from the people she's met recently. Needless to say, I thoroughly enjoyed dinner with her.

Toward the end of the evening, she pulled out her phone to check her messages before we headed home. Naturally, my new iphone came out as well. Just for fun, I sent her a text and soon we were texting back and forth and giggling at our silliness. (Oh, if only I had a picture of us sitting across from each other and interacting electronically!) Too soon we had to put an end to the evening, and the silliness, and actually go home.

As we were walking out, still laughing at how ridiculous we had been texting each other across the table, we noticed another family. All four - mom, dad, and both kids - had their phones out texting back and forth just as we had been!

Really? You need a rule about that?

Today I had to chase a group of teenagers off the roof, where they were skateboarding. Of course they didn't understand why I wouldn't allow them to do that. As one young man told me, "Then the church should change the roof so that that we're not tempted to skateboard it!"

I think that "No skateboarding on the roof" is going on my list of Stupid Things I Never Thought I'd Have to Say. (Other favorites on that list include: "You're not supposed to date other women when you have a wife at home" and "I don't know why God put buggers up your nose, but until we figure it out don't pick your nose.")

Sometimes you just have to step away from the madness

It's been one of those days. Actually, it's been one of those weeks. So I told my boss that I was taking a long lunch, and I went over to the park to knit. Which turned out to be exactly what I needed!

And if knitting socks in the park wasn't enough, I'm on my way over to meet my knitting group for an evening of dedicated fiber and friendship.

Yep. It's one of those days. (She says with a grin and a happy dance.)

If only I had a yard!

It's a garden gnome and a frog just chillin' out in the Florida sun. This has got to be the greatest, tackiest, yard ornament ever. I really want it.

My neighbors must be so glad that we don't have any personal yard areas. With the way I love anything   terribly kitschy, they'd have to form an HOA for sure!

What's the story behind your name?

If I see hear more public-service ad, asking for help for the devastation Sandy caused, I think I will scream. Please, add "Hurricane" in the sentence.

Seriously, I've been thinking about my name a lot today. Recently I've heard several introductions where the person was asked about their name. "That's an interesting name. Why did your parents name you that?" or "There's got to be a story, with a name like that." In one case it was, "Were your parents hippies or something?" which came across a bit negative. But still, no one has ever asked me for the story behind my name. And I have a good story.  I really like the story of my name. So even though no one has asked, I'm going to tell it.

My mom grew up in a tiny little seaside town in New Jersey. As a child, and especially as teen, she spent a lot of her time at the beach. If you've ever seen the old beach movies with Frankie and Annette, you can imagine what it was like. Then she met my father (on the beach, naturally), and they were married. He was in the Air Force, so they ended up stationed on a base in the middle of Maine. Snowy, far-from-home, no-beach-in-sight, Maine. And of course I was born in the middle of winter. Homesick for her family and friends, Mom decided to name me after her beloved beach. I suppose I should be glad that she chose Sandy instead of Boardwalk.

See, I told you that I had a good story. I've even managed to include just enough facts to make it seem like it might be true!

Why did the duck cross the road?

There's a section of our parking lot that is single lane (divided each direction) with no room to pass. It's not a big deal, except if you're late for work and get stuck behind the duck. Especially if it's the duck with an attitude. Honking just earns you a glare from the bird. Yelling "Duck! Duck! Duck!" out the window earns you a glare from the neighbors. (And I really was just yelling "duck!")

Normal ducks  would try to get out of the way of a heavy, noisy car with a cranky, late-for-work driver. Those sensible ducks would realize that walking down the middle of the drive with the car inching closer and closer is not a good idea, and they would hurry to get out of the road.

Our duck, however, reacted by going even slower and slower as he walked down the entire length of the drive.

So why did the duck (finally) cross the road?
To get in the way of another driver, coming up the drive!

Sniff, giggle, cough

Even when I'm feeling totally miserable with a horrible cold (I hate winter!), the orange key to the Volunteer room makes me giggle. And the reaction of my volunteers, who have no idea why I'm so tickled, makes me grin even more!

Knit faster, she's naked!

Because of a staff meeting, I was still at the church when the choir started arriving for their weekly rehearsal. As I was gathering up my things to leave, the organist came into my office with a very odd expression on his face.

"There's a naked person in the sanctuary," he told me, clearly expecting me to do something about it. It took me a minute to process the sentence. After all, you don't expect naked people to wander into church. And if they do, shouldn't the pastor be the one to reach out to them? I really don't think nudists were covered in my job description. But obviously, something had to be done so that the choir could concentrate on their music.

From the back of the dimly lit sanctuary, I saw the naked woman sitting in one of the pews in the front of the church. As I went down the aisle toward her, I recognized her as a faithful member of the church. I also, thankfully, realized that she wasn't naked. The back of the pew had hidden her tube top from view, leaving her bare shoulders and back to give the impression of nudity. I imagine the organist, waiting in the back of the church, got a bit of shock when I slid into the pew to give her a hug instead of covering her up with with the shawl as planned.

Away from work, I've been spending a lot of time tatting. I am totally obsessed with the fun of flipping shuttles around to make rings and chains. I finished the second bookmark, using the spiral bookmark pattern I found on Threads of a Tatting Goddess blog. I clearly need more practice; there are a lot of sections that didn't turn out very well. But even with all the mistakes, I'm very impressed with myself.

I also found a pattern for a tatted bookmark using a jumbo paperclip, and for the past few days I've been obsessively making rose clips in various colors. I even got adventurous enough to try adding beads!

But don't worry, I haven't given up my sock knitting. I'm halfway through a pair of Cookie A's Crest socks using Knit Picks' Stroll in Dandelion. This has to be one of the most difficult patterns I've ever attempted to read. It's also one of the best designs I've ever had the pleasure to knit. I love Cookie A!

And the chorus, one more time!

All afternoon and evening I've had a song stuck in my head. It's really bad when that happens. It's even worse when the song is really bad.

This morning, after cleaning the cat litter box, I put the trash in the rear hatch of my car, intending to drop it off at the dumpster on my way out of the complex. Unfortunately, something must have distracted me because I didn't make the stop. I didn't realize it until after work, when I got into my car to run errands. I blame the toxic fumes for encouraging that stupid song to repeat over and over in my head. The song? "He's a Garbage Man," a (mercifully) short-lived favorite family ditty.

For some strange reason, my children had very odd career goals when they were little. My youngest wanted to grow up to be a cow. My son's dream was to be a garbage man. Since I was a very good mother who loved (and loves) her children dearly, I supported his ambition by allowing him to take out the trash everyday and by encouraging him to study personal hygiene methodology that would help him get along in the real world should his dream come true. Why, I even went the extra mile and made up a special theme song to show him how wonderful his life could be. His sisters took great delight in singing this song to him over and over again -- which I'm sure had nothing to do with his announcement that instead of a garbage man he wanted to be a policeman with a gun.

He's a Garbage Man
(sung to the tune of Frere Jacques*)

He's a garbage man, a very happy garbage man.
He's a garbage man, and he loves his job.
He can ride the great big truck,
And he makes a great big clang when he bangs the garbage cans.
He's a garbage man, a very happy garbage man.
He's a garbage man, and he loves his job.


*I know that the meter is somewhat forced. Okay, it's outright tortured. And the rhymes are horrible. But the intended audience loved it. At least for the first fifty times, anyway...

Old enough to know a bargain

 

I went to the movies with a friend tonight, and when I bought my ticket the girl gave me the senior discount. I've never even been asked if I was a senior before this, and this girl just assumed that I qualified for it. Sigh. I can't decide whether I should be excited that I got away with a cheaper ticket, or depressed that I looked old enough not to be carded.

Oh yeah - the movie that we went to see?

Oh. Yeah!

No cupcakes

When I was at the wine store, I picked up a cute little mini-bottle of Baileys Mint Chocolate with the intention of using it for cupcakes. Tonight I decided that I couldn't bake with it until I knew what it tasted like. I mean, that's just common sense. So I put a little bit in a shot glass to sip, and then poured a bit more on my ice cream. Unfortunately, there's none left for the cupcakes. It's a shame, too, because Baileys Mint Chocolate is very, very good.

Rainbow Cake

It really isn't safe to leave me alone, bored, in a kitchen. I didn't have the ingredients for cookies, or good cupcakes. So I settled for playing with a cake mix.

The result is that I'm still alone in the house, I'm back to being bored, and there is pretty cake.

K. loves his Grandma R!

I am so jealous of my cousin. She has the most adorable little grandson that she gets to spoil to her heart's content. She posted a couple of videos on Facebook this weekend, which is what has me so green with envy. I would love to have a grandchild to spoil.

Before I go any further, let me put in a quick disclaimer. I am very pleased that none of my children have decided to present me with a grandchild this early in their lives. It makes me proud that they have each recognized that they are not in a position to have children yet. (For pete sakes, my youngest is just finishing her first year of college!) Despite my desire for a grandchild, I am perfectly willing to wait for one.

In the meantime, however, it would be nice if one of my younger relatives or friends, many of whom are  having babies, would grant me the privilege of being an honorary grandma (or great-aunt, or whatever) so that I could have a child to spoil. Just think of all the adorable baby outfits, and toys, and stuff I could have fun making for him or her. Not to mention all the wonderful ideas I have gathered over the years for cards and letters and books. I'd offer free babysitting and even some parental spoiling, too. All I would want in return is an abundance of pictures (easy in this day of digital camera and internet connections) that I  could show off.

Oh well. I'm probably too young to be called "Nana Sandi" anyway.

Just tell me what I want to hear

I went out shopping this evening for a table. I would have settled for a desk, or even a decent TV tray. But since I actually had money to spend, naturally I couldn't find anything I liked. (Does anyone else live under that axiom? You can only find what you want when you're not shopping for it.) Being in a mood, I decided that if I couldn't find a work space, I'd just get something to work on. So I bought yarn to weave kitchen towels.

Yeah, I know. Buying the yarn makes absolutely no sense at all. Which is probably why I greeted the cashier with, "Your only appropriate response is Yes." Naturally, his response was, "Huh?" So I explained further. "Just remember that the answer to my question is Yes." "What question?" he wanted to know, clearly confused by the crazy lady. "Do you think I can have the towels finished by Easter?" I asked. "Oh, no," he assured me.  "There's no way they'll be ready by then." 

Now he had me confused. He sounded so sure.  "You were supposed to tell me Yes." He just shook his head sadly. "I want to tell you Yes, but I can't. They won't be ready. Not by Easter. But maybe somebody at the Customer Service desk can help you if you really need them by then." 

I know that I probably won't have time to warp, weave two kitchen towels, and hand-sew the hems in the next five days. And I definitely won't get the matching dish clothes knit. But to have a complete stranger (and a teenage boy at that!) tell me that I was being unrealistic was just too much. I thought about crying.

As I was gathering up my bags to leave, he had one last question: "What are we talking about, anyway?"

Bearded Lady

This has nothing to do with anything that's going on today. But since today was nothing special, and I didn't want to come back just to whine, I decided I'd share a picture of my beautiful daughter. She's very special, you know.

I mean, it's not every girl that can carry off a knitted beard.

Not to mention that not every girl has a mother that will knit her a bear.

What's for dinner?

One of the joys of living in Florida is finding lizard in the house. I don't really mind. They're kind of cute. I just wish that they would find a better place to hide than my oven...