Bits and Blobs.

If my life was a load of laundry, it would have been beaten against the rocks on the river this week.  After shuffling into work in my slippers, furry teeth and all (snort) when we last spoke, there was Wednesday.  It took me over two and a half hours to get home - with two very close calls.  I am convinced there is a regional condition called "seasonal amnesia", where a person's mind is wiped clean over the summer of all thoughts and experiences of winter, and all the joys it brings - like driving in it.  I cut my driving teeth on the southern shore of Lake Erie, so I know winter.  There was one winter where I went to work on my cross country skis because I couldn't dig my car out of the parking lot.  Only to find I was the only one there - they had called everyone BUT me to inform them the office was closed.


The very first and foremost rule of thumb to maintaining life and property when the roads are hazardous, is to drive slowly, steadily, and go lightly on the brakes.  Last night, at least three nimrods were driving too fast, realized it, then slammed on their brakes.  One hit the car behind me, but I was watching and maneuvered out of the way.  The second bounced off the exit guardrail to the left of me, but cleared me by a car's length.  The third hit the same guardrail, and then skittered across the road in front of me (about three feet from my car), hit the guardrail to my right and ended up facing the wrong way in the lane to my left.  JM&J.  With rapidly rising blood pressure and the coiffure of a hedgehog, I inched ahead and was finally able to exit off the freeway.  The roads were not that snow-covered, but they were sure icy.  Even with all my 'expertise', I came very close to going off the road and down an embankment.  By the time I got home, I was a wreck. 


Thank goodness it snowed enough to justify working from home, because I couldn't face getting in the car and retracing that route yesterday. 


Then Peanut hurt his back again.  Mysteriously, as always.  We are back to the crate for 4-6 weeks and I am picking up his meds tomorrow.  Tomorrow, I need to get everything done because we are in for another snow 'event' (Winter Storm Xavier, anyone?) from Sunday into Monday.


The domino effect in my side woods:

You'll have to biggify to see the toppled trees

The 'dusting' of snow predicted for Wednesday into Thursday:

Note the roof of the quail hutch.

A couple of gems unearthed in my stress-bashing purge mission:


Dad's first resume from graduation.

Ancient photo from my trip to South Dakota between
my junior and senior years in high school.  I'm holding
Lester Leadercharge - he of the double dimples.
(Hey!  What ever happened to my eyebrows???)

Yesterday, during my lunch break, I went through an entire box of photographs and recycled about 95 percent of them.  As are the contents of my freezer and canning shelves, about 1 percent were labeled, leaving the rest in a vague veil of mystery.  I had the unmitigated pleasure of shredding old boyfriends and keeping all the cat and dog photos.  Hindsight is always so clear, isn't it?


I finished my fancy socks, but haven't taken a photograph of them.  I have started to work on my large stash of forgotten knitting kit projects.  Although the thought of sock-knitting makes my eyes cross, I ran across a kit for Fancy Feet Anklets - Socks for the Week.  Anklets, I thought.  Snap.  I wonder why I haven't worked on these...

Cute, no?

This is why I have not touched them in over
six years. 

Since I was determined to get a least one pair done, I gritted my teeth and slogged through the 61 rows required to make the heel.  61 rows, including 122 wrap-and-turns, then having to pick up all those bloody wraps.  Well, needless to say, I missed a few and I DON'T CARE.  They are worn on my feet, in my shoes, so pffft.  Need I say that I will not be knitting Tuesday's through Sunday's anklets?   I can't even indulge in an adult beverage while knitting this heel, for fear that my socks will look like they've been hit with a scourge of pox if I miss picking up those dadgum wraps.


However, right after the vet, hairdresser, folks, and grocery, I will be hitting the local package store.  Along with everyone and their Uncle Mick, with Winter Storm Xavier looming on the near horizon.
Cheers!