Finished the blonde sox, made a pair of striped socks for Josey (my six year old) and now I’m working on a pair of blonde sox for my husband.
Speaking of which, he’s just snoozin’ away– it’s so cute when my thirty-four-year-old decides to take a nap on his own. 
Oh dear Lord! After all the ranting I did about the neem, turns out the stupid stuff was at my husband’s store the whole time. He brought home a large container of it and dug the gallon sprayer out of the tool shed for me. I have to wait until the bugs start settling (just a few more hours) before I start mixing and spraying– yeah! You just can’t imagine how silly I feel right now being excited over a garden spray.
My son fell on his head and has a huge lump now (hardwood floors). He’s settled down on the couch with a book in his hands and a cold pack on the lump. The amazing thing about children is that when you ask them “What happened?” they will sniffle and say “I was just playing.” Like somehow we adults are total morons for asking such stupid questions.
I asked Josey and he said “I hit my head.”
Duh…
I think I could have guessed that.
How hard can it possibly be to find one stinking supplier of neem oil that is local?
I could just scream, neem is an organic oil that is used for fungus and pest control in gardens, I’d never heard of the neem tree before the oil was recommended to me, but it’s too late to dormant spray our apples this year and I really need to treat the trees before the next big infestation so organic is the only available option if I still want to eat the fruit.
I spent several days late last year trimming back the branches and limbs and then raking all of the infected fruit and leaves up to be disposed. Hygene is very important in a garden because it’s impossible to control pests just by adding to the soil and spraying the sh&t out of everything with chemicals.
I learned to knit from this book, and it still confounds me but it’s a really good reference when I’m trying to figure out a new technique (you have to remember that I’m a sinister knitter.)
Currently working on trying to figure out the looped stitching for borders because I’ve drawn out a hat that I’d really like to make for myself but need to knit in the loops (otherwise, I’d have to knit the hat and then go back and carpet weave all the loops– not fun.)
Knitting Without Tears is another really good book, some people don’t like EZ’s chatty style, but I really enjoy her books and “recipes” for knitting. Much less formal than Mary Thomas.
So far, no calls from Brindle. But his client did email my husband, telling him that she was changing her email address and would be gone on vacation for (I quote): “several weeks”.
I really doubt she intends on returning from her vacation, in fact, I’d venture that she’s planning on going to Finland with the kids and never returning.If I were a gambler I’d put money on it.
I was recently informed by an uninvolved party that I could be sued for writing about all of this and publishing it online, here and other places. I say SUE ME I could use the free advertisement and it’s not like I’ve given out her name, address, social security number, email address, or employer information. Of which such information I readily could provide to the public but don’t because I’m not that mean, not yet anyway. I will say that she has vanity plates on her Toyota 4-runner that say (creatively enough) “vanity”.
Vanity?
The chicks are finally outside in their own little abode. I’m not sure that the dogs are completely comfortable with this arrangement, Tasha and Greta are laying on the porch staring suspiciously at the chicken coop. I’ll have to keep a close eye on them.
Well, it’s 4:12 pm and no word from Mr. Brindle (the evil witch’s attorney)– hmm? Very strange, he was supposed to keep Matt in the loop as to what is supposed to be going on– perhaps he’s a chicken too? If he is I’m not going to let him share the coop! There are laws about that sort of thing in Oregon.
Easter was amazingly pleasant. My mom complained that she didn’t have enough time to cook the roast (she’s a notoriously bad cook) which was why I’m presuming that (for once!) the roast tasted just fine. Good even. I had seconds– it was really a nice roast. Matt and I are still in total shock over the quality of the food and the fact that not only was it edible, but palatable too- and we didn’t get food poisoning. Incredible.
Back on the blonde sox. I have one finished now I’m working the leg for the second one. Knitting good, morning sickness bad.
I think after I finish up the runner (have just under two feet to go) I’ll start a crib bumper and layette set for my baby (due in mid-August), I have five-g’zillion layette and reception sets, but some of those are slated for charities and others aren’t really my style. I like bright colors on babies, or sometimes what would be considered classic on adults, like charcoal and burgandy, or demin and white. Knitting pure whites and pastels for layettes is to me the equivolent of making an ashtray in ceramics class– it’s done and over done and a cop out.
We’re hoping for a girl (yes we’re old fashioned and won’t let the ultrasound tech tell us) so I’m graphing out a woven green grass and daisy pattern for a reception blanket, and a lady-bug jumper and hat. Should we have a boy, I have a grasshopper jacket and leggings ready to roll.
My dear sweet husband can be such a goober some times.
He’s really lucky I love him so much because I could just about kill him for not calling me, coming home late, grabbing my card, kissing me and going off again– and still not being home by mid-night like Cinderella! Damn those glass slippers.
Ladies,
Take my advice, when it’s little irritations from your man– just smile, nod, pretend it’s cute and stare out the window if you have to– because homocide is still illegal in most states. When it’s big irritations don’t spend too much time bitching or steaming silently over the manly cr@p– I tell people he’s my oldest child.
It’s just not worth destroying the nice stuff with bitterness, besides sooner or later they pay… money or suffering.. (just kidding). Seriously though, I’m irritated but I’m not terribly sensitive about the occassional slight– after all, the poor man has to live with me so I should just cut him some slack.
I think the last time he pulled this particular stunt was over three years ago, so it’s not a regular problem with us.
