Thursday, July 29, 2010

Things I hate

I'm not feeling all warm and fuzzy tonight. What is the point spending an hour at occupational health, getting put on work restrictions that say no lifting, pushing, or pulling anything heavier than 10 pounds and then being sent out, with my strenuous objections, to lift a person twice my weight?

I called in sick for tomorrow.

Let the worker's comp liaison, occupational health and my employer duke it out. I plan on taking motrin and muscle relaxers like I was told to do today, or more specifically, avoiding the things I was told not to do. My briefcase weighs more than 10 pounds for cripe's sake.

Since I'm hurting and feeling cranky, I made a short list of things I hate and thought I'd share.

# 1 on my list of things I hate: obtuseness in an employer. Really, I don't think them dumb or slow. They just act that way sometimes because God forbid anyone put a crimp in their day.

#2 on my list? Getting in line behind people who grocery shop at the drug store.

That said, I went to CVS at 11:50 PM, grabbed a cart and went shopping. I bought toilet paper, coffee cream, advil, paper towels, Campbell's tomato soup, Riesen chocolate covered caramels and a magazine.

Enough said.

I will counter all that I hate with the fact that I do so adore irony.

Wednesday, July 28, 2010


Note to self: stop lifting patients up off the floor. You are mere flesh, blood and a woman with a bad back.

I'm thinking it's just L-5 this time and not both L-5 and S-1.

Disclaimer: that is not my ass. Mine is much bigger with way more dimples. I completely swiped this photo from google images.

Monday, July 26, 2010

What's that old saying?

The more things change, the more they stay the same. Right?

At least that's what it feels like knitting this lace cardigan. I complete one lace repeat of the pattern, or 4 rows. I measure and get the same measurement I did before I knit those 4 rows. How is this happening? It's the knitting black hole. By this time, I would have thought I'd have been far into the neckline and armhole shaping. I haven't reached that point. Yet. Any lace repeat now, and I'll have something besides a frilly skirt to show you.

In complete frustration, I took Devon's suggestion to post a photo of my project, but really, I wanted to recreate the first photo so that once and for all, I have proof of progress.

It must be that black sheep tape measure that's lying to me.

Sunday, July 25, 2010

Relief at last

The first thing I noticed today was that for three days in a row, I've awakened with no alarm at exactly 8:54 AM. What's up with that? The second thing I noticed when I opened the door to let the beast outside is that the sky is blue, the grass is green again, everything is wet and the wind is from the north.

The north.

Thank you, Canada!

Blessed relief from the triple digit heat index that's enveloped metro Detroit is exactly what I've been looking for. If anything around here has worked harder than me this week in this heat, it's my central air. I shut it off and opened the windows.

The torrential rains we've had, for what seems like days on end, have not brought cooler conditions. Friday night, as I drove from one patient to another, I watched my car thermometer drop 20 degrees in five minutes when a storm front moved through, but this did nothing for the humidity. It was still up there. Today it's gone.

Yesterday I did nothing. The heat, humidity, approaching full moon and my schedule finally caught up with me. Spending most of the day in my jammies, I chose to knit instead and fell into that black hole of knitting. You know, the one where you knit for hours, use up yards and yards of yarn and still, whatever you're knitting fails to show any appreciable gains on the tape measure? That knitting black hole. Around midnight, I threw in the towel and went to bed. Today, I noticed that I only have around 4 more lace repeats before I begin the neckline shaping of the Vogue magazine cardigan. How in the world does that happen? I could have sworn I wasn't that close to a break in the pattern.

The knitting has to wait a bit today. I plan on enjoying this change in the weather with a walk and lunch at a local cafe.

Friday, July 23, 2010

I'll give you 3 guesses

And the first two don't count...

Who in the world would do the following:

Tell a 22 year old that he'd gotten him a birthday cake, then drag a half eaten ice cream cake out of the freezer with his own name on it?

Photo: Google Images

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Generally Speaking

I hate chin whiskers. More than that, I hate a zit anywhere on my nose.


I needed to get that off my chest.

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

The Unapologetic Knitter

The last time I went to spin, and believe me, it's been awhile, it was not so delicately pointed out to me that I have an inordinate amount of knitting projects going on. I didn't take offense, and I'm not about to count my unfinished objects out here or apologize for projects I've not finished. I don't know why I do this, but I do. I get bored, or in the case of the monumental shawl, I got hot and I moved on to the baby blanket. I still need to finish that, but it's more than half way done, and the baby isn't due until October. There's time, and I've said it more than once, I work better with a deadline. Such is the stressful life of a procrastinator.

My latest project was out of my control, if you call being possessed as out of control. Strolling through the magazine racks at Barnes and Noble, my gaze fell upon the fall issue of, Vogue Knitting. It was the cover photo that spoke to me as I usually never buy this magazine. Oh sure, the model is pretty enough, and I love her necklace, but that cardigan? Must be mine. Will be mine. I recognized the yarn without having to look it up, and a voice in my mind yelled at me, "hey, you have a boatload of Rowan Kidsilk Haze that's been waiting for a project like this!" Well, there's not precisely a boatload, but certainly enough. I have seven skeins. And look! The instructions call for exactly that.


I swatched. Not a whole swatch mind you (there are only 7 skeins), but enough (2 lace repeats) to let me know that I was spot on gauge with a size 6 needle. The needles I was using for the baby blanket. Yet another reason for that project to wait. I cast on yesterday afternoon and knit the beginnings of the picot border and then the lace part of that before I realized I should have done a provisional cast on so I could knit the hem instead of seaming it later. Too late! I'm not unraveling mohair. I knit the second half of the hem and began the lace. Only then did it become apparent that I had the wrong tools for the job. The Addi turbos were not going to do. I needed sharp tips and I didn't have Addi Lace needles in a US size 6. I had a 4, 5, and 7, but no 6.

What's a knitter to do? I headed to the yarn store to buy a pair. I ignored the yarn (though Leo got a snoot full of every basket at nose level), intending only to buy the needles. I escaped with Leo, the needles and the cutest thermal glass. It was close. I wanted to snoop in the boxes of yarn waiting to be displayed, but I was good. Besides, I wanted to get home and and transfer those stitches to the much sharper lace needles.

The weather is too warm here to wear mohair, but it's not too hot to knit with it. It's whisper light and the perfect thing to knit in this hot weather we have here in Motown. Besides, I have my thermal, non-sweating glass full of lemonade to keep me cool now.

So yes, while I have a lot of projects waiting for attention, yet again, I've been sidetracked. Who cares? I'm an ambitious little knitter and there are always fewer hours in the day to do all of the great things my mind says I can do.

Deal with it. I know I do.

Sunday, July 18, 2010

Apparently, it's good to be King

And when attending a traditional Albanian wedding, it's good to check your disbelief at the door.

Spending Saturday afternoon with Rachel is something we rarely cancel. We chose not to let Rachel down and did not go to the church ceremony for this wedding, and now I'm a little sorry I don't have stories to tell from that. We did get to the reception right at 7 PM like we think the invitation instructed, and took note that not a single car was in the lot. Wondering if we'd made an error in the translation of the invitation, we rechecked the date and time and decided to wait a bit. We drove around for another 30 minutes and went back when we saw 2 limos and a smattering of cars. The preponderance of guests were fashionably late and chose not to arrive until well after 8 PM. They knew something we did not.

As guests arrived, they walked through this ethereal tunnel of glittery fabric and were greeted by the groom's family. There wasn't a bride in sight. Shockingly, this is not the bride's party. It's the groom's. To my surprise, many of the guests wore white gowns. This fashion faux pas would make tongues wag at an American wedding. People would wonder if the guest who committed this crime was trying to upstage the bride. As you'll see later, when she finally showed up (she was sequestered in a room upstairs for several hours and was guarded by members of the bridal party), there was no mistaking (or upstaging) the bride. The 26 bridesmaids wore green. Not a single bridesmaid represented her--all of them were of the groom's choosing. His peeps.

The tables, all 80 of them that seated 10 each (you do the math), welcomed the guests. Each table had a bottle of cognac, a bottle of chianti and a bucket full of iced beers. There were several open bar areas and an ice sculpture for shots. The bartender would pour liquor at the top of the sculpture and the guest would catch the liquor, now well iced, at the end of the slide. That was fun, and I went to that station more than once.

If you couldn't find white roses in Detroit this weekend, I know the answer to the question of where they went. They're atop 80 tables in a local hall.

Desserts were amazing. There was chocolate, cake, fruit, cupcakes galore, white and milk chocolate fountains, and of course, a beautiful wedding cake. The white chocolate cabbage leaves held chocolate covered pretzels.

The bride made her entrance sometime after 9 PM and before the dinner of chicken, lamb, pasta, salad and New York strip steaks were served. During dinner, she stood between the head tables (26 bridesmaids and 26 groomsmen need more than 1 table) where she was still being guarded the entire time by members of the wedding party. I think this is so she doesn't run away. As the bride stood, she assumed a look of indifference and was supposed to cry. Who wouldn't after being forced to stand in one position for two hours as guests dance around you and eat. She was also supposed to be fasting. Her reception was in the morning before the ceremony (same hall--five hundred guests)and last night's reception was for her king, the groom. On Sunday, they'll have a third reception. Above you see her dancing while surrounded by a sea of the groom's family and friends.

She doesn't look so miserable here in this photo that was taken at the end of the night. The king looks thrilled. He should be.

I am supposing that this is what it's all about. Here is hoping their arranged marriage is full of not a little of this.

My feet are up resting today and I've been into the motrin. I stayed on those stilts all night and only switched to flip flops when we left the reception sometime after midnight (it's considered rude to leave before). My head hurts from my one too many trips to the shot slide, where I made it a point to toast the unhappy looking bride and wish her well, while simultaneously thanking God for my own circumstances and independence. My ears are still bleeding from listening to unbelievably loud ethnic techno music.

Since I consumed a month's worth of calories, spending today fasting would be reasonable, but I have a date to go out with my best friend. It's a good thing that's much later today. Maybe we can ponder how to become planners for Albanian weddings, because it would seem that fabric suppliers, florists and caterers made a killing, though I think it would be more fun to plan how to help brides escape.

Thursday, July 15, 2010

And the heavens opened.

It was a sultry day in Detroit; one that ended with a line of wicked, wicked storms. I was stuck in a patient's home on the east side of Detroit, trying as best I could not to strip down to my skivvies and staying as close as possible to the tiny, overworked window air conditioner when the storm hit. There were torrential rains, impressive displays of lightning and high winds. What blew in was a little more forceful than the summer zephyr we'd experienced all afternoon.

While waiting for the ambulance to arrive and take my patient to the ED, my son called to report water above the sidewalks with trees and power lines down everywhere in our neighborhood. He was stuck on the outside looking in. While going through my mental checklist of what was in the basement, I kept thinking about the tree in our neighbor's front yard. It looks old and none too healthy. I tried to recall where I'd parked my car, because of course, if I'm in the city working, someone else does the driving. I'd put it far up the drive. I kept telling myself that if my house is still standing after 85 or so years on this earth, then it'll still be standing when I got home.

The tree was not.

More precisely, 1/3 of the tree was gone and was laying on Roy's house. As Pete, my driver, drove up my drive, my heart was in my throat. All I could think was that I had to check on my favorite neighborhood bread baker. Even our hair-raising drive through our storm damaged neighborhood and flooded streets didn't make me worry as much as I did when I saw Roy's house.

I like this man. So much so, when I cook and there is extra, I take him a plate. He's always so thankful and bakes me bread and shortbread in return.

Though the neighborhood had lights, Roy's house was dark. With trepidation, I opened his back gate and climbed the steps. There he was peering out his kitchen window. He was OK but badly shaken. It turns out he'd been closing the windows on his front porch when the tree came down, almost on top of him. As he surveyed his back yard, he took note of the bird feeders down with their contents scattered everywhere, and said, "oh well, I guess the birds will have a feast this week." Nothing rattles this 96 year old man and I assure you, this is a big part of his charm.

Tonight the boys were out entertaining Mr. Larger Than Life. It's his birthday, and he'd done nothing but bitch all afternoon. There were not enough people there to celebrate his orneriness and not enough gifts in his estimation. Nothing is ever good enough for him.

Sometimes I think trees fall in the wrong places.

Where in the World is Rudee?

Rudee has been kidnapped.

In her place is a woman who looks like her, and yes, even swears like her. You should have heard this woman curse at her dog last night when she saw all he chewed: the phone handset, an x-box controller, Stinkerbell's books, and, dammitall, her one and only tube of Traumeel. That's the best cream around to treat back pain. It sure sounded like Rudee, but after seeing what this woman brought home to wear to that wedding on Saturday, everyone is pretty certain it's not her.

Need evidence?

Here is the dress she bought. While Rudee admits that she is way more comfortable with something that provides coverage only slightly less revealing than a burka, the woman who went shopping with Rudee's credit card today bought nothing more than a dark magenta slip with a sheer negligee-like overdress. It's utterly feminine and has not a trace of black.

The shoes have left everyone speechless. What got into her? Was it the shine of the patent leather that lured her into these dark and murky waters, or something else? These are definitely not Danskos. Please, when you go to church, light a candle in prayer that by Sunday morning, Rudee is not in surgery getting her hip replaced.

For those only interested in the dog...funeral arrangements have been set for Friday.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Gone Shoppin'

While I love the colors in this, ahem, dress, I think something may be missing and for sure, my Spanx would show through. Can't have that.

I struck out at the resale shops. Well I can't say that completely. There is one dress that's a definite maybe. It's royal blue with silver beaded straps. It's cute and on the list. It's been in the store since May, so I'm not too worried. If I strike out at the discount stores today, I'll go back and snatch that dress up.

However, there is another option...

There are many reasons I love Ravelry. Finding the link to this dress store is one of them. So what do you think? Should I hop a plane to Florida?

If I get lost, I can use this map to find my way (scroll down the link page to see map).

I particularly like the music. It's easy on the ears while shopping.

Photo: by, David Shankbone, Wikimedia Commons

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

Pushing Comfort Levels

How did this happen to me? Once comfortable being a clothes horse, I now avoid buying clothing that I may wear once, then never again. Before I moved for the first time last year, I donated bags and bags of clothes. I did it again when I moved this year. My closet now contains only a few musts like casual trousers, jeans, a couple of blouses, navy blue scrubs and not a few hand knit items. Apparently, I even gave away the ubiquitous little black dress.

None of what's hanging there is appropriate for a wedding this weekend.

As panic sets in, I realize I have to shop for a dress. And shoes. It simply won't do to pair a dressy little thing with Danskos. Even the leopard print patent leather Danskos won't fit in at such an event.

As if that's not bad enough, my life in capri pants, scrubs, t-shirts and tank tops has given me some odd looking tan marks (but that will be fixed with a spray tan). My hair needs to be cut and my nails need a miracle worker.

I'm about to do something I've not done in a long time: go dress shopping. Fancy dress shopping. I'm surrounded by resale and consignment shops, so I'm going to start there. If I see nothing by the time my shift starts, I'll branch out to discount retail stores by tomorrow and if there is nothing there, I'll bite the bullet and go to Nordstrom later in the week. I only have until Saturday to find something to wear. Lord knows I don't look as good as the woman in the commercial who looks in her closet, finds nothing to wear and so goes naked to the party. My ACLS skills are rusty, and I don't want to be responsible for anyone's cardiac arrest.

When in the world did shopping become such a chore?

And where did I pack my Spanx?

Wish me and my fat rolls luck. We have a little miracle to perform by week's end.


Monday, July 12, 2010

Why I Love July

July, despite the heat, has always been my very favorite month of the year. When I was a youngster, it was the month we decorated our bikes for the annual Bike Regatta. The child with the best decorated bike won, which was never me, still, it was a fun thing to do. As I grew up, I lost my fondness for bikes. After all, I lived in the Motor City, and once you're of a certain age here, it's a given that a love affair with bicycles will give way to one for cars.

All of this doesn't explain my inexplicable adoration of the sport of cycling and Le Tour de France. Perhaps there is a genetic cause; something passed down from my Belgian cycling grandfather, Leon. My mother said that back in the day, before he emigrated to the States, he'd actually cycled in Le Tour. I don't know if that's true, but I do know that he did love cycling. I was just a youngster when he passed, so I never got the opportunity to question him about his youth and his passions for pigeon and bike races.

As for Le Tour, it has everything a person could want in a sport:
  • Incredible physical feats of accomplishment as men cycle about 2,200 miles in 3 weeks. Some tours have exceeded this with one, in 1926, that was 3,570 miles long. Whew. That must have been especially grueling!
  • Intrigue, especially with the ever changing team compositions from year to year and the constant doping accusations.
  • Men who look good in spandex.
  • Strategies galore.
  • The best scenery in any sport. Don't believe me? Check it out as cyclists spend hours flying past enormous fields of lavender and sunflowers, or agonize during steep mountain ascents with breathtaking (literally) vistas. I'm quite certain while descending the mountains, the cyclists see nothing except the road beneath them. Descents are so fast and rather hairy.
  • Men in spandex.
  • Nobody in the crowd seems to have a vuvuzela. Thank God.
  • It's a sport where one can win without winning. There are several winning categories, each with their own jersey color: white belongs to the best young rider, green goes to the best sprinter, the white with red polka dot jersey goes to the best climber, and the maillot jaune, or yellow jersey, belongs to the overall leader who has the best time. Right now, it's on Australian, Cadel Evans. He deserves it, though he best watch out for my favorite, Andy Schleck, who was amazing on the mountain today.
  • Colorful announcers like Paul Sherwen and Phil Liggett. In my mind, they're the best pairing of sports announcers ever.
  • Men in spandex.
So you see, it's an interesting sport that one becomes easily attached to watching. I'm sorry I was traveling and forgot to record the first few days. I missed the hellish cobblestone race, though I've seen some video. If you feel you can't possibly like this sport, give it a try. Unsure about the rules? Because of course, there are rules, you can find them here. You can find the race, broadcast daily, on Versus. This year it's in HD, and the views are simply spectacular.

I'm hoping to make it to the finish line with my own yellow sweater by race end.

Photo: From wiki commons of the 2006 Tour de France.

Sunday, July 11, 2010


I spent the better part of an hour today trying to untangle one of the skeins of no longer stinky silk that I washed. I should have known better than to throw all of those skeins into the spin cycle of my washing machine. One of them appears hopeless, but I won't know until I try. No way will I get it on a swift, but I'll try to get the job done by hand... a good thing to do while watching hours of cycling. The sweater bodice is done, and now there are only a few miles of stockinette to complete. The nice thing about this sweater, since I'm weaving and trimming ends as I go, is that once it's done, it's done. Attach a button and it's good to go. I'm in no hurry since it's hot as hell here. Again. No chance I'll need a sweater anytime in the near future.

After lunch, I spent a couple of hours helping the search party on Ravelry. This required me to go through all of my booklets, magazines and books to be sure everything I own is uploaded in my notebook first. It was fun to thumb through items I haven't looked at in years. Years. I saw all over again, the reasons I bought those publications in the first place. The search party is a win-win for Ravelry and knitters. Of course, the reason I did it at all was the 35 attempts to score one of the prizes. We'll see. Every pattern I added labels to is entered to win. I still have 11 that I skipped, so if nobody else tries, I'll go back and label those. I got bored looking at that book.

Did you label any of your patterns for Rav?

Friday, July 9, 2010

Murder in Detroit

With nothing better to do, I was reading the Detroit murder statistics, and so far, it would appear they're down a smidgen at 140 to date. Since we're half way through the year, I think the city may come in under 300 by year end as compared to 379 for last year.

However, in calculating their stats, the FBI missed one.

A beheading.

A particularly gruesome crime, in addition to the beheading, it would appear the victim, a hapless tape measure, was gutted. A witness, who happened upon the crime scene, told police that the suspect appeared to be cheerful, gloating and was pleased to show off his crime.

A BOLO (be on the lookout) has been issued for the suspect. He is tall with spindly legs and is said to have a rather large nose. He was last seen wearing a black coat with a rusty brown colored bow tie. Do not approach this dangerous criminal as he is considered armed with sharp claws and massive teeth. If you've seen this suspect, please notify the police.

Thursday, July 8, 2010

The Many Shades of Yellow

There's supposed to be relief in sight with the temperatures and precipitation in Michigan tonight. One can only hope. The lawn feels like concrete and my flowers are wilting. Lord, it feels like Hot is here to stay and let us not forget Hot's friend who is also in town. Humid. Humid is a beast.

I got word late yesterday afternoon that I'd be doing a start of care in Detroit. Knowing what I do after 2 years of home visits, I started tanking up on fluids well before appointment time. In the 3 hours I was in that patient's 90 plus degree home, I didn't have to pee once--fluid loss in the form of sweat was doing my body's job of fluid elimination. Though I'd showered at 3 PM, I came home, showered again at 7 and began replenishing my body with fluids. Still, it was a good 2 hours before I needed to use the facilities. That's remarkable for my admittedly weak bladder.

The emergency rooms are hopping with heat related incidents and two people have died. One, a homeless woman who, for whatever reason, was inside a car, and the other, an elderly man who died in his home in Grosse Pointe. It was well over 100 degrees in the elderly man's home when he and his wife were found. He'd elected not to put central air in his home, though from the looks of his neighborhood, it wasn't because he couldn't afford such a luxury. Still, the main problem was likely because he became dehydrated. We should take a lesson from these people.

Remember my hot friends...thirst is a LATE sign of dehydration. Better to assess your hydration needs by the color and amount of your urinary output. Pale yellow is what you're aiming for and any more of a color show is a good indication to keep filling your tank. No output? You are way behind and likely need medical assistance. Severe dehydration can cause kidney failure. It's a good idea to alternate your choice of fluids between water and diluted electrolyte solutions, though I prefer to eat my salt in the form of salted snacks like pretzels, crackers or nuts. Electrolyte solutions and I don't get along. No caffeine (ya right!) and no alkyhawl. I can comply with no alcohol, though a cold one sounds tasty in the late afternoons, but the caffeine? If I didn't start my day with a cup of joe, well it wouldn't be a good start at all. I'll have to drink extra water to make up.

I hope you're staying cool. Me? I'm hoping for inpatient starts of care for tonight. In the meantime, just in case of a repeat of last night, I'm going to start tanking up early. In addition, I'm praying hard for rain.

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

To market, to market to buy me some figs

One of the things I love best about visiting my sister is the inspiration I take from her kitchen, and in this case, her bar. Wasting no time at all after arriving home, I went to the Italian market across town and bought 2 pounds of dried Turkish figs, fresh squeezed orange juice and a fifth of Grey Goose vodka. Once home, I diced all of those figs and plumped them up in the heated juice. Now the figs are in the bottles and soaking in the vodka. The Fig Preserve Martini recipe (along with how to make the infused vodka can be found here). Talk about delicious...this martini is amazing. In about a week, I can make one and though I can't recreate my surroundings, at least I can recreate what I drank. To clarify the recipe, I decanted the vodka and kept it to the side. Cook the figs only in the heated orange juice. Strain the figs, put them in the bottles (in this case, I doubled the recipe to use the whole fifth and had an empty spare bottle on hand--you could put it up in mason jars), and then top with the vodka. Let it infuse for a week to ten days. Believe me, it's worth the wait.

Maybe the martinis are the reason I didn't do a lot of knitting in Charlottesville, but I managed to get some done in the car during the boring parts of the ride. Like Ohio. Sorry to my Ohio friends, but Toledo to Cleveland is one dull drive. I did drag my wheel out in Virginia and spun some pretty yarn. Above you see about 100 yards of 3 ply BFL in the Sangria colorway. There's more on the wheel right now and I'm hoping to get, fingers crossed, another hundred yards to make this shawlette.

It's back to work for me today. It's hot and miserable here in Detroit, though I'm sure it's no better elsewhere. We reached 98° on the thermometer yesterday, but the expected high today is way better: 92°. I'm going to try to stay cool, but that all depends on my patient's homes. Sure hope they'll have central air.

In answer to Pam's question yesterday...that twisted stone path is in my sister's backyard. Wish I was still there.

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Home again, home again, lickety split.

While it was good to sleep in my own bed last night, I find myself missing the scenery of the Blue Ridge Mountain range intensely today. What a beautiful place to call home. I'm a little tired today from the drive last night, so I'll let my pictures do most of the talking.

From Skyline Drive on Friday:

Moorman's River and the Charlottesville Reservoir in the Shenandoah National Forest as seen from the Skyline Drive overlook:

I love the wildflowers, but the bees? Not so much. Still, they do good work and I bought some honey while I was in the mountains. It's a beautiful amber color and the label says it's a goldenrod honey. That will be a first. I should go taste it right now.

I liked the way the middle tree looked to be leaning against the tree on the right to have an intimate though sharing information of great import.

From Cricket Crossing:

The path to the potting shed taken with a wide angle lens. I love this picture.

The place the dogs cooled off after running crazy on the mountain.

We wrapped up our trip on Sunday with an elegant feast cooked at the house and then a spectacular fireworks show in town.

It was a great getaway. I'm still on vacation until tomorrow (though apparently, some at work did not get those multiple messages I sent and away messages I left and actually emailed me assignments last week--duh--too bad I wasn't there to get them). I have a nice short week planned for this week though I'm quite sure the heat will make for rather wretched work assignments.

Thursday, July 1, 2010

See Ya Next Week

Have a great holiday weekend.