We’re still waiting for the roof to dry out enough so that we can repair the leak above the bathroom, and get to work remodeling the bathroom. This weather needs to start cooperating with my plans– I find it totally unacceptable that it insists on drizzling right over our house.

One bright side is that this gives Matt and I more time to argue over materials, colors and fixtures. I am trying to convince him to let me clean up the old tub (which is quite good and usable) and shower doors and sell them, so that I can put the money towards a nice old clawfoot tub and hardware.

He doesn’t think that cleaning it up would be worth the effort because it’s so old and ordinary, and that in order to sell it we’d have to refinish it. I looked it over (yesterday, when I was taking a bath) and I can’t see any wear or scratches so I’m not quite sure what he means. I think he thinks that I am not going to have the patience to sell it.

Admittedly we have wildly different tastes when it comes to materials and colors.

We’re like that song; he’s a little bit country and I’m a little bit rock n’ roll punk rock.

And I’ve been knitting!

Possibly the ugliest socks I’ve made to date. The yarn is Lion Brand sock yarn, I forget the colorway (or I’ve successfully blocked it out of my memory because it’s so fugly.) The needles are sized 1 us (2.25 mm.) The first sock is finished except for that fussy bit of weaving in the toe and the second sock is underway.

I’m hoping that there will be just enough yarn to knit a teeny hand grenade out of it (the colors are appropriate.)

I have absolutely no clue why I would buy that yarn. None. What the heck was I thinking?

Now she’s a big girl, and at the end of this summer she’ll be a whopping 5 years old.

Now it takes a dedicated evening to come up with almost a pair of plain jane socks with short row heels and toes; almost but not quite a pair. Pictured is where last night tapered off.

For her part Lexi takes these delays for finished socks in stride. She’s very analytical about it, pointing out that it takes much longer to make Josey socks because his feet are “very very huge.” (Which indeed, Josey does have gigantic feet for an eleven year old.)

We also managed to work a new camera into the budget. R.I.P. old camera, you served us well right up unto the middle.

Buying a new camera that was within the budget was a difficult task. First I had to get the husband into the store. This might have been easier had I not divulged the fact that it was to purchase a new piece of electronics. (Note to self: next time hint that they may have a sale on Star Wars items and start a rumor that they are giving away free cookies.)

Then I had to actually get him to compare cameras, we’d chosen another camera awhile back, made comparisons on function and agreed that it was indeed the best one. So I’ll admit that choosing another model (as in a model that we could afford right at that very moment) was probably a bit of a shock to his system. He kept saying “If we wait we can get this one for only $110 more.” and I kept saying “How long will that wait be?” and he kept shrugging, so I’d answer his shrug with “We need one to get us through that wait.” and then he’d repeat “If we wait we can get this one for only $110 more.”

Lather, rinse and repeat for the next 40 minutes.

Let us not forget that while I only want a camera to document every second of my adventures in motherhood and knitterly activities, the husband actually needs a camera in the course of his professional life (as in if he doesn’t have a camera he can’t send very important photos to his clients in order to be paid.)

Eventually this all lead to buying the camera that we could afford: Canon PowerShot A470. Which, as it turns out Matt is absolutely delighted with, and I’m not going to turn my nose up at the macro setting. As my friend Opal points out “It’s all about the macro.”

Law of mohair #143 All mohair articles larger than 2 cubic inches knitted on metal circular needles will reject said needles when the article is in a resting state prior to completion.

Law of mohair #143 appendix a) articles larger than 2 cubic inches that have successfully rejected knitting needles in a resting state will spontaneously begin to unravel.

Further scientific study on the unique and often frustrating physical nature of mohair is required. The laws of mohair although baffling seem to be finite and immutable.

If you aren’t familiar with this style of truck, relax, close your eyes and envision a gun rack. Slowly let the truck form itself around the gun rack and a tattered John Deere baseball cap in your minds eye. This is one of those machines that if it gets in a serious wreck you just hose the old driver off the dashboard, fix the chrome, replace the radio antenna, and you’re good to go.

Ours is just that kind of truck, sans gunrack (we believe in keeping our firearms out of the reach of redneck teenager social deviants, thank-you-very-much.)

My darling husband is giving me driving lessons in this thing. I see the little white Kias and Toyotas with the “student driver” sign on the top of the car and I want one of those signs– except my sign should say something like “Caution: *You* are my crumple zone” or “WTF!?” or “How good *are* your airbags?”

It’s really nice to see that so many drivers on the road are completely at peace with their maker. Those of us that aren’t quite ready to hear the sweet song of the choir invisible would appreciate it if they’d mind not taking us along for the ride. I’m certain of my salvation and all, but I’ve still business in this life so I’d like to stick around for a while.

Speaking of which, is it a bad thing that instead of seeing my life flash before my eyes I see my unfinished knitting projects? Just curious.