Yes, yes I am a good girl

You know how you knit for-flippin-ever on a sock and swear there's no progress being made, the ball gets no smaller and the sock gets no longer but time drags by? Well, once I get to the start of the heel, I just can't stand it, I've GOT to keep going. It's so exciting to see the sock develop this whole SHAPE thing. It's fascinating and I watch with baited breath like I don't know what's going to happen and I'm all pleased as punch when the damn thing does just what it's supposed to do. Anyway...

I was doing the whole knitting as I waited at stoplights thing while running errands. Today I had to actually put the sock DOWN as I drove down the street as the current sock is with handpainted opal yarn and on size ONE dpns. (I may or may not have been sighted driving with my knee and knitting along on a pair of artyarns socks previously, but it was a straight road and it was big yarn and I was to the just knit forever part of the tube between heels and toes...) It was driving me batty as I HATE getting stuck in the middle of the pattered needle with the buttload of stitches on it. HATE THAT. So, I pulled into the Wal-Mart (said like Jeff Foxworthy as a two to four sylable word with big emphasis on both words) and immediately picked up the sock and finished the row before getting out of the truck, or putting it in park if you must know.

I get out of the car and hear this giggling in the backseat of the car next to me. Granny Rose is sitting there crocheting her heart out while her daughter got frustrated with her and went huffing into the store. She said to me, "she HATES it when I do this, but YOU understand. I want to finish my row." I said "Of course, what else would you do?" and she said "You are a good, good girl." I swear, I almost kissed the little old lady right on her cheek. GOD I love old people and especially those that KNIT and CROCHET. LOVE THEM. Except when they smell like pee. Then not so much. Or at least from a distance.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO AMANDA!!!!! Happy Happy Happy Happy and all that!! I'm excited about our evening out! My daughter's doing a sleepover with a friend, Jeff's going to watch my boy with his boys (he doesn't actually know that yet) and I'm gonna have AT LEAST three margaritas. I think strawberry foo foo with salt instead of sugar. mmmmmmmmmm. Don't have too many before I get there, as I need to buy you a drink! OH and go buy some of those CHASERS pills (from Walgreens or Osco or somewhere) Take 2 with your first drink of the night. Just in case. Not that you'd over-imbibe or anything inappropriate like that. :)

You've probably already seen this, but my mom sent it to me (which being Madam Appropriate Behavior herself, made this doubly funny) so read it again and chuckle with me... from an email sent around and around and around...

I was due for an appointment with the gynecologist later in the week. But early on Monday morning, I received a call from his office to tell me that my appointment had been rescheduled for that morning at 9:30 A.M. I had just packed everyone off to work and school and it was already around 8:45 A.M. Since the trip to his office would take about 35 minutes, I didn't have any time to spare. As most women do, I like to take a little extra effort over hygiene when making such visits, but this time I wasn't going to be able to make the full effort. So, I rushed upstairs, threw off my pajamas, wet the washcloth that was sitting next to the sink, and gave myself a quick wash in "that area" to make sure I was at least presentable. I then threw the washcloth in the hamper, donned some clothes, hopped in the car and raced to my appointment. I was in the waiting room for only a few minutes when I was called in. Knowing the procedure, as I'm sure you do, I hopped up on the table, looked over at the other side of the room and pretended that I was in Paris or some other place a million miles away. I was a little surprised when the doctor said, "My, we've made an extra effort this morning, haven't we?" I didn't respond. He finished the exam, I heaved a sigh of relief and went home. The rest of the day was normal...some shopping, cleaning, cooking, etc. After school when my six year old daughter was playing, she called out from the bathroom, "Mommy, where's my washcloth?" I told her to get another one from the cupboard. She replied, "No, I need the one that was here by the sink, it had all my glitter and sparkles saved inside it."