Okay--I just tried to load a hella precious photo of our Lady of Bug, preening over her little Cindy-Lou Who palm trees in her hair, and I couldn't do it. But the story is also hella precious--I can give you that instead:
Little Cindy Lou Palm Tree got groomed by Chicken on Thanksgiving morning, and her hands immediately moved up to take out her pig-tails. As quick as I could, I swept her into the bedroom to check out her new 'do' in the mirror--as soon as she saw it, she asked to be put down. We put her down and she took my hand, walked to the computer and sat, as pretty pretty princess as you please, and waited while I took a bijillion and three (+ a crap one of me!) pictures of her with her hair. She's let Chicken do her hair ever since.
In other news I've got a pair of Chicken Toes socks on the FO list--I could try for pictures but I'm not optimistic. Next up, worsted weight fingerless mitts by the score. (Or at least an even number, because, like, you usually use two.) I've got three patterns, Fetching, Dashing, and one from a book whose name I can't remember but most of the patterns are pretty simple (i.e. lame) and the only reason I bought the damn book was for this really cool fingerless mitt pattern. I don't know, people--I've been looking at what you people create, and is anyone getting to the point where we look at pattern books for ideas, but really couple of stitch dictionaries, Anne Budd's book of numbers (as I think of it) , and a crap load of graph paper are really all we need? Yeah--I thought so. It could be my fault--I keep such exalted knitting company. You guys all blow me away. (Strikke-along news? It's still on the back burner. Suddenly IT has taken over, and instead of making this pattern a part of IT I am now putting it off until after IT so that I might enjoy something difficult and finicky without the deadline.)
On the job front? Well, I had a yearly update with an administrator--the good kind. I'll call the guy 'Jimmy' for the sake of privacy, but he's the best kind of administrator--he was GREAT in the classroom and works his ASS OFF as an admin, and he believes--sincerely--in things like student rapport, classroom autonomy, and supporting your teachers through the crap times. I love him dearly--so dearly that when he expressed surprise that I hadn't been put on his 'review list' after my last review administrator moved on, I didn't have the heart to tell him that it was because the prickweenie put a target on my back. He was, however, sympathetic about the assholes (my word--Jimmy is a classier guy than that, and he sincerely likes his colleagues) in my department, and pretty much told me to forget about them. "We still have autonomy on this campus, whether or not they want to believe in it. Don't worry about it--you are always working for the kids."
I love him. I love him I love him I love him--in a purely non-sexual way that would not preclude throwing myself down in traffic to save him so that he might go on to do much better things. I told him--almost tearfully--that the ten minutes in his office was the highlight of the week. I did not tell him, because I was running late, that he very possibly saved my life, or at least my career. Seriously--good good thoughts to this man, he is one of the freakin good guys.
There are a few things though that we won't talk about tonight--and all of them are related to my faulty genetic code being perpetuated through the ages. Here--I'll give you a taste:
1. The cave troll and Ladybug laughing their asses off on the way to work this morning. I looked in the rearview and saw that he was dumping milk from her bottle onto her head.
2. I left the short people with Chicken this evening to take her brother to karate lessons. When I got back, the Cave Troll was running around 1/2 naked after a trip the the bathroom, and Ladybug was chasing him squealing "poop poop poop".
3. After giving Ladybug a bakery cookie that I had purchased for a staff function tomorrow, I put the whole plastic container of them on the counter while I was bathing the Cave Troll in the sink. Do you know what I heard next? Suffice it to say that' it's a good thing I bought a back ground box of cookies, and my family, who all firmly believe in the 5 second rule, is gowing to be packing on the lbs. from a staff sized helping of butter cookies.
4. Chicken's psychotic cat must now sleep on my chest. (Psycho kitty, ques quese...run run run run away...)
5. I'm totally cracking up, even as I write this, because Mate's beloved King's have actually won a freaking game, and Mate is jumping up and down in the living room cheering. (*hee hee hee*) Freakin' goober. Goddess bless him.
I had a GREAT teaching day today. Goddess bless us all.