Sunday, August 5, 2007
Somebody made me socks!!!
I so do not have pictures of this...I really am the worst photospot in the blogosphere...I will have to post pictures tomorrow...
Anyway, Roxie remembered my birthday very early and send me an embarrassment of riches in the world's most adorable notions box--including four skeins of some sort of fluffy white yarn that has 'hat' written all over it in invisible ink and, as I said, SOCKS!!! And after making socks for everybody and their obnoxious sister all year, somebody made me a very clever pair of tube socks (they are ribbing all around--so warm and cuddly...and the colors just ROCK!!!) which is probably the only pair of handmade socks on the planet that will fit my fat, flat, 4xpreggers feet. Roxie rocks...thanks darlin'--tomorrow there will be pictures. (Or the next day...hopefully when you're back from your trip...)
And now eclectic weirdness from the Lane fortress of domestic bliss:
1. I'm not sure if I've mentioned this before, but my daughter told her teacher last year that she couldn't bring 'mom's books' to school because they were too trashy. "You mean trashier than the ones you bring now?" Her teacher asked, a little appalled. And to that end, the movie is coming out for one of my favorite series that I CAN NOT GET MY KIDS TO READ. (I need to read it again, actually, because it's been so long I've forgotten everything but that haunting resonance I had when I read it. Remembering plot might be nice.) So, THE DARK IS RISING is coming out this fall...and I'm so excited I could just about wee.
2. For anyone who read the Harlot's last post--the one about getting panties thrown at her when she was on stage (in a good, all in fun, I was rolling off my chair sort of way) I am currently revising my gauge for my own famous-osity. I was answering an, uhm, (Goddess, don't strike me down in the name of humility for saying this) fan e-mail from my web site (I get about two a week. I am inordinately pleased about this. Don't tell anyone--it's embarrassing.) when my oldest son said, "Mom, are you famous?" I laughed and said, "No, son, with the type of books I write, you know I'll be famous when the religious right pickets my house with torches and pitchforks." Now that Steph has gotten panties thrown at her, I think I need to find another hyperbolic phrase, because torches and pitchforks scare me.
3. I start school a week from tomorrow. If I wasn't on a big fucking river in Egypt, I might be freaked out, in tears, and totally pissed at how fast the last eight weeks have gone. As it is, whenever Ladybug does something cute, I burst into tears. This does not make me a very merry house companion. Mate is glad to be going back to work on Tuesday.
4. We went to a party last night--you know, where grown-ups are? It was actually great--the people had kids, they hired a bounce house, and, as is the case with everybody you visit, their toys are SOOOOOOOO MUCH COOLER than your own. We left the big kids home and my little kids actually left us alone while we talked to grown-ups until about ten o'clock, at which time, the cave troll came up and said, "Mom, we have to go home now. NOW, Mom. We have to go home, NOW." I mean, he is the boss, right? Mate's phone conversation with T as we drove home was pretty damned funny too--it seems that T couldn't think of a what we could have been doing until 10:00 at night. "We were talking," Mate said. "No--just talking. No...we were talking. I swear to God, T--, we were just freaking talking!!!" I'm not sure what sort of post teen-aged shenanigans T was envisioning, but the idea of grown people having nothing better to do than chat was totally blowing his mind.
5. On the book front? I have 66 total reviews on amazon.com-- 15 for BOUND, 18 for WOUNDED, and 33 for VULNERABLE. Again, I am inordinately pleased about this. Sombody hit me in the forehead with a dart, my noggin is growing again and I can't seem to keep it inflated to fat-middle-aged-English-teacher-with-the-world's-crappiest-house specifications. I am afraid the god of honor will strike me down if I get too much joy out of my praise. (I am so dying for someone else to read BITTERMOON. I'd better get my ass in gear and finish it, shouldn't I?)
6. I have finished 1 monkey sock and cast on another. As a reward for one finished sock, I cast-on a baby jacket in cotton yarn (which will be great in the fall) that washes and goes and works up at 3 1/4 stitches to the inch. After working on socks all summer and getting the equivalent of two pairs done without any actual pairs to show for it, I needed some instant freaking gratification.
7. And we went to the pet store to adopt a full grown cat for my children--I was going to do the civic duty thing, I really was, and adopt a three corner cat--but she didn't like dogs. And then I was going to adopt Milo, a cat who lost his last home because he was too bouncy. But he was pouting in a corner and wouldn't really introduce himself. And while he was pouting in a corner, this little nondescript gray kitten came up and started making sweet luuuuurrrrrvvv to my fingers, and by the time we could get Milo to even look at us, Henry was somehow attached to my shoulder and Chicken had renamed him 'Gordy' and now he lives in her room. He thinks he's another child. I'm the stupidist parent on the fucking planet, but damn he sure is cute.
Oh yeah--the pictures were taken on vacation--I just posted them, because with the exception of that big heifer in the purple sweatshirt, those are some damned fine looking young people, if I say so myself.