Monday, August 30, 2010

Seams to me

I finished my work early tonight (shhh---we won't mention this more than once or I'm sure to curse myself) and took to knitting the trim for the sweater. Not only are there ruffles for the sleeves and the band around the sweater to knit, but there are miles and miles of hemming with 2 sleeve seams and then the setting in of the sleeves and a picot hem to sew. Sewing and seaming are not my strong suits. The results will be worthwhile, but the getting there will be hard.

I tried to think what music I'd put this task to, and came up with a few songs:

The James Gang, Walk Away.

Cat Stevens, Miles From Nowhere

Neil Sedaka, Breaking Making Up is Hard to Do

Led Zeppelin, Ramble On

Aretha Franklin, Chain of Fools

BJ Thomas, Hooked on a Feeling

Tiring of all of the pins, needles, measuring and shaping, I think I've settled on one final song to offer up:

There. Music to knit, or in this case, seam, by.

Sunday, August 29, 2010

True Confession

I am crazy about this dog. He is the most headstrong, trying and exhausting beastie boy and I am his slave.

This is him, my 80 pound lap dog, leaning back for a neck rub. When he does, he smiles.

He is perfection.

Saturday, August 28, 2010

Poison Darts

After a tremendously trying week, I was just sitting here typing in how I feel and before I knew what hit me, I googled the words, I hate my job. Not a few responses popped up. Apparently, a lot of people don't like what they do for a living. Google spat back 79, 500, 000 results in 3 seconds.

Misery loves company.

Just like there is a rate your professor site, there is now a rate your boss site. Or even better, your employer. Whew, a lot of people have some really scary employers! The company I work for is on that site and I have to say, I can't disagree with the general assessment of one reviewer, but find I can't add to that fire. I think I'll mind Shakespeare's words: "temptation is the fire that brings up the scum of the heart." I'll be staying away from that site. Besides, I don't really hate my boss or employer, and I love the general kind of work I do. I despise the small minded people who work in the scheduling office across town and who weigh me down with abandon. If I could slay them with my words, I would, but their small and petty brains are impervious to language, or pleas.

Perhaps I should use darts.

Thursday, August 26, 2010


What do you think of the new wall color?

Last week, my husband painted the living room and while he did, I took Leo to Camp Bow Wow. I just knew he'd be a paint in the butt while work was going on around him. He can't resist getting into things he ought not stick that giant snout (or butt) into.

Here is the real color. It looks good. I can't believe we finally have our stuff up on the walls. It's beginning to look homey.

What's that heaped upon the fainting sofa? Sleeves for the sweater, of course.

I've been staring at the sleeveless sweater that sits upon my headless mannequin long enough and I think she won't be sleeveless for much longer. I'm knitting the sleeves side by side on one circular needle, with two balls of yarn and have gotten to the cap shaping. That means every other row right now is a decrease row. Soon I'll be binding off, seaming and considering the ruffle. I think that's why I'm loitering in terms of this project.

The ruffle.

My itty-bitty knitter's brain is telling me I have to do it the way the pattern is written, or risk an outcome nothing like the original pattern. It was the ruffle, and the mohair that drew me to the pattern in the first place.

That tedious, fiddly ruffle will be meeting a needle near me, soon.

At this rate, it should be a wearable article of clothing by, oh, June of 2012.

eta...thinking out loud...what if I treated that cast on 15, knit 3 rows, bind off 14, cast on 14 knit 3 row and repeat above, etc., ruffle as an applied i-cord and manage to knit the ruffle onto the sweater on that bind off row? Are you following me?


Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Oh, great white orb that rules the night...

...please take it easy on me tonight.

The setting full-ish moon was beautiful last night and once again, its effect on lunacy was felt in full force.

First there was the caller who threatened to move the hospital bed into the yard if I didn't come pick it up right then and there. Okie-dokie, then. I don't think so, but I highly recommend this caller needs a chill pill, or at the very least, a cocktail--or 3 or 4.

Then there was the police officer who treated a natural hospice death as a "crime scene." His words, not mine. He was just a youngster, so I lectured the hell out of him and told him that whilst in school, he missed the classes, Common Sense 101 and Introduction to Empathy. I did manage to tell him that all of us experience death of loved ones and when his turn rolls around, I hoped that the police who show up at that "crime scene" demonstrate more respect than him.

Still smarting from my interaction with the officer 2 bullets shy of a loaded gun, I channeled a little of the madness myself when I told my husband that something he has been saying often of late, reminds me of my ex. Wrong. Thing. To. Say. I can only hope I'm off the list and his shoulder warms up soon. Still, if he's reading this, he's nothing like my ex and I would think being together a quarter of a century would be proof enough to him.

At 6:30 AM, mind you, I worked until 2 AM, clerical staff at my office called wanting to know if I could fix some care plans from May 2009. Now, if those care plan updates were my responsibility, I'd have had them done correctly the first time. Additionally, if they've been missing for 15 months, couldn't the call wait 3 more hours? Who in the hell goes to work at 6:30 in the morning? Gah!

I was able to fall back to sleep after interacting with Rude Caller, but awakened later to find that Mr. Leo had gutted the second (and last) telephone handset. If you have my home number, don't bother calling it as I have no idea how to answer a mangled phone.

Leo did not get a lecture, but he his now behind closed doors at Camp Bow Wow. May he come home completely exhausted.

Now I need to go put some fresh elastic in my big girl panties. I have a feeling I'm going to need a little extra something to hold them up tonight.

Saturday, August 21, 2010

Baa Ram Ewe

While it didn't look promising when we headed out Saturday morning for the festival, it turned out to be not too bad. It was a wee bit muggy when we finally made it to the fairground. In fact, it was too muggy to hang out in the over crowded vendor areas for a long period of time, but that was OK. I found all of the things I really wanted in the barn where the musty, earthy smells didn't attract the larger crowds.

He looks hot, too, don't you think? The critters waiting for their stylists were panting. The newly fleeced were wearing blankets.

This fellow was getting annoyed with me trying to take his photo. What he seemed to want was to be left alone to eat.

This freshly sheared Blue Faced Leicester was sweet.

And so was this little Pygora goat. These goats have beautiful fleece and groovy little beards. I can't believe I just wrote groovy, but really, it fits. That beard would look just as good on a beatnik. This one was nibbling on the handle of my camera.

I didn't buy much, but did get what I wanted. I only went $18 over my budget. It was the tussah silk that done me in.

And this little beauty. It's a Trindle. I took all the different beads for a spin, but liked the weight of these green beads best. From what I gather, the weight of the beads helps determine the thickness of the yarn you'll spin. On the ride home, I was spinning a sample piece of tussah silk that the vendor gave me in the car. For people looking to get into this little art form (hello, Rose), I can highly recommend the Trindle drop spindle. Though I like my Louet spindle well enough, this one has stolen my heart. Silk isn't the easiest thing in the world to spin, but I got an evenly spun fingering weight yarn from this while fiddling around in the car. Amazing. This spindle spins forever (a plus) and didn't "drop" once. I can't say the same about my Louet.

Though one would think I would stock up on fiber at a fiber festival, I held back. I thought some of the prices were over the top for mill spun yarns and most of the hand spun was insanely priced. Why buy something there that I can get from the women I know who own stores? I have relationships with them and a deep interest in their success. As for the hand spun? Well, I can do that myself and have no burning need to spend $100 for 34 yards of anything. What I save these days is now dubbed as my early retirement fund.

The tussah silk in the photo above isn't represented well by this picture, but take a look at the 15.8 ounces of the alpaca/silk blend I scored. I know it looks like a pile of worms in a sort of a dirty dishwater blond color...

but look here at what happens when the light hits it just so. The shine. The softness. The magic.

Be still my little spinner's heart.

Friday, August 20, 2010

THE Plan

Last month's back injury was a wakeup call for me. I simply can't do this kind of physical work forever and a desk job sitting on my dupa is out, too. After all, that's where my sciatic nerve lives. What will I do when I can no longer do this? We all know that idle hands and minds are the kiss of death.

The thing is, I know what I love to do, so I believe that should be THE Plan. I'll knit. Not only that, maybe I could teach knitting for seed money.

To that end, I joined The Guild today. I'd join the local one, but their meetings are always when I'm working, so I joined the national guild. My plan is to continue working for awhile and at my leisure, I'll work to accomplish the three levels of becoming a Master Knitter through TKGA. When I achieve that, I'll get certification to teach knitting, although I'm pretty certain I don't need to go to that end, but it won't hurt, will it? In October, I'll enroll in level I of the Masters Program and begin this journey. This should give me time to clear my knitting decks. If you ask me, it beats a Master's in Nursing in terms of the kind of work required of me.

My husband has a two year plan to my early retirement, but I think 4 is more feasible. I'd like to spend the last 2 years squirreling money away, so to speak, as I do have a very high fiber diet that isn't exactly cheap.

Light. I see light at the end of the tunnel--and no--not that tunnel and definitely not that light.

Did you know that to achieve Level II, I'll have to knit an argyle sock?

Just shoot me now. I've obviously hatched another hair-brained scheme.

Thursday, August 19, 2010

When the going gets tough

The tough flee town.

Once again, it's time for the annual cruise down America's first highway. An event that began in the mid 90s as a fundraiser, has become a monster. Oh sure, to those who come to participate--and they come in from all over the world for this-- driving up and down Woodward Avenue may be fun. It's just not my idea of fun. People are either lining the streets as spectators, or driving their pristine, and sometimes not so pristine, old cars around and around and around in circles. The air becomes choked with exhaust only a vintage car can belch out and when it rains, it comes down in the form of pure testosterone. Traffic moves with all the forward motion of a snail.


I live less than one mile from this main artery that takes me to and from the freeways. The event isn't official until Saturday, but believe me, it's begun in earnest already and it makes the lives of normal commuters, area residents and most business owners miserable for an entire week. For the metro area, it will bring in around $50 million dollars. I've yet to meet a business owner who says they benefit, but someone must. Probably gas stations.

Lucky for me, with one exception, I've remembered to stay off this road this week. Also, the stars have aligned and Saturday just happens to coincide with the Michigan Fiber Festival. In the time it takes one vintage car to drive 3 miles down Woodward Avenue during the thick of the all day event, I will be 172 miles away in Allegan, Michigan. That is not an exaggeration.

Once there, I will pet the alpaca, fondle the fleece and ogle the yarn. Hell, I may even buy more than a little. That is not an exaggeration, either.

While I hate to disappoint you, I will not have photos of muscle cars, traffic or smog to show you proof of this hellacious event, however, check back Sunday for pictures of sheep.

Are you running away from anything this week?

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

How to recognize a bully

He'll be the one with the big mouth, no brakes on his thoughts and the cooler full of Bud.

There was a neighborhood barbecue on Sunday. Since my husband was working, I went alone. Not wanting to go empty handed, I brought along a plant for the hostess, my corn salsa, a fresh peach and strawberry trifle and settled in to get to know my neighbors.

Within five minutes, I finally met the man who lives behind us, but next to Isaac the pit bull. When I introduced myself, he said, "oh, I know you. You're the one who owns, Leo. Like the neighborhood needed another pain in the ass dog to bark and piss me off." He was serious. And mean. To be certain I knew that he meant what he said, he repeated himself twice. Not really knowing all the neighbors well, I was tongue tied and embarrassed. Here's the thing, yes, Leo barks, but we don't let him bark on and on. We call him in the minute he starts up. I know barking is annoying because I hear other neighbor's pooches out there yapping on and on about nothing. This goes on for hours. It's not Isaac, either, because that poor dog doesn't get much outdoor time. This man has a particular dislike for Isaac, which may explain why Isaac, in turn, seems to hate people on the opposite side of the fence.

I should have recognized this boor for what he was: a bully. I'm quite sure it's the reason he lives alone. After all, who could put up with a man so completely lacking in social grace? The big tipoff had to be his personal, extra large cooler full of Budweiser and while I'm no beer snob, (my nose just grew 6 inches), it seems to be the beer choice of bullies. After all, Budweiser, the king of beers, is what my ex drank to excess so I draw from plenty of experience.

After awhile, the bully, who fancies himself a master gardener, finally had enough to drink and became kind and generous. He offered me some of his famous homemade salsa (I'd have starved before accepting) and my choice of the tomatoes growing in his yard. Is this the classic kiss and make up move, or what?

Missing from this get together, was the next door neighbor to the hostess. It seems she committed a gardening faux pas by spraying something to control the spread of morning glories from the hostess' side of the fence. She's out. Isaac's dog mom was clearly not welcome. The young couple a few doors down were out. Don't know if it's because they have kids who may make noise, or because they have a dog. The lady down the street was out and that could be because the Fed-Ex man visits her house a little too often. Like, every single day. Talk about special deliveries.

So, the neighborhood has warts. Most of them are nice enough, but the bully is on my do not fly list, so to speak.

I'm thinking the next time Leo barks, I'll leave him out a little longer. Especially if I know the bully is out there gardening while listening to his radio that he blasts.

And if I was feeling bad for considering a privacy fence, those feelings are quickly dissipating.

Rant over...I can go back to spying on Leo who is at Camp Bow Wow while we paint.

Sunday, August 15, 2010

Sewing Seeds

Yesterday evening, I was on the phone with my daughter getting an update on her injured friend when another call was coming through. I only use my call waiting for what I consider important calls and didn't answer, choosing instead to let it go to voice mail.

At my convenience, I made the call back to a former colleague who lost her job this year. She'd heard I'd hurt my back and wanted all the dirt. What dirt? I hurt my back, I'm on the mend, I'm back to work and there is no dirt. I'm not trying to make a federal case out of a muscle strain, so I was perplexed by why she seemed so interested. She kept using cryptic language like, "I'm worried you're going to lose your job," and, "I like you, so I want you to know you need to watch your back." My physical back, or a metaphorical one? Is someone with power going to take a knife and stab me in my back? She wouldn't expand upon her train of thought and concern.

I've had agida ever since.

This woman, still, six months after resigning, has her ear to the ground and I wonder if she hears hooves thundering toward me. Or is she so bitter about her forced resignation that she must sew seeds of discontent?

Out of the blue, she's worried for my safety in the territory I cover, but when I took this job, she pulled the seniority card and snatched the territory I had been promised. She had been slated to work the midnight shift, but changed her mind and took my job. Now she worries about my territory. She actually told me it would make her feel better if she knew I had a different job.

Me thinks I smell a rat, or at the least, I sense the incredible skill of someone who can build mountains from mole hills.

Saturday, August 14, 2010

Wishing for peace

This is exactly the effect I was aiming for when we left for Camp Bow Wow on Friday morning. I picked up a dog too tired to stick his head out the window on the drive home and this is the view I looked at for about 6 hours straight once we got home.

He's bushed. I'm thrilled.

Our camper did really well on his first day. The report I received was that he was playful and friendly, even if he did pee on another dog. Poor thing. Oh well, at least it was her bath day.

So we signed up for the warm up package which includes 3 half day visits and a bath. Just in time, too, since my back needs a break from a job like bathing this beastie boy (even if he is good in the tub). We'll see how the socialization of Leo progresses, but the doggie exhaustion is a nice little side benefit.

It's late now, and I've tried and tried to find a shooting star tonight, but it's just too cloudy and a little too bright near the city. I was hoping to find something to wish upon to aid the Detroit firefighters injured today. Seven of them in all, with 3 critically hurt. One of them is a friend of my daughter's. They went to high school together. It's sickening to think that life as this hero knew it (and he is a bonafide hero), will probably change, and likely because of arson. Really? Last year, my colleague's cousin was killed when he fell through the roof of a burning building fighting a fire. The man who started that fire did so for $25. Is life really that cheap? It makes me sick.

Fresh out of shooting stars, I'll continue to pray for all of them and hope the news isn't as bad as we've heard for Sara's friend.

Friday, August 13, 2010

Why, oh, why, oh, why?

No, no! Really, I'll be good and promise not to chew anymore sandals, tissues, traumeel, telephones, garbage, black walnuts, yarn, grass, garden vegetables, x-box controls, toothpaste and the like. I will not lick your sandwich when you aren't looking and I won't eat the butter from the counter, either. At least I swear I'll try not to do that. Butter is my weakness. I will not bark my head off at Isaac the Pit bull. I will not steal the master's chair and instead, I will lay on the floor or in my crate. Cross my paws. Just let me stay home.

See? I'm quite comfortable here. No. My butt is not too big for this chair. Why do you ask?

Yes, friends, Leo has a trial day at Camp Bow Wow today. He will play in the pool, the sprinkler and run around with a pack of about 15 like sized dogs. I will check on him obsessively periodically by doggie cam. He must be on his best behavior for a minimum of 3 hours, bite no handlers and absolutely must play well with the other campers.

It does not escape me that it's Friday the 13th.

Thursday, August 12, 2010

The straw and the camel's back

I could never do what this man did, but I get it.


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Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Be Honest

Does this picture make my nose look big?

Leocifer was accepted at the doggie day camp, and we're thrilled he did well. We do want to look at one other place that came recommended by a knitting friend. The second place has a doggie cam so that you can take a look at what your dog is doing while away from home. Additionally, they have half days which makes more sense for us.

I'm hopeful this will be the answer to the socialization this fella needs. I'm sure not getting another dog to cure that problem, so friends will have to do.

Good job, Leo!

Monday, August 9, 2010

Leo the delinquent

For our anniversary Saturday, we decided to go to the ball game. Los Angeles creamed the Tigers, but we had fun, great seats (on deck circle), ball park food and a lot of laughs. I think I'm still a little puffy from all the sodium I ingested in one night...or maybe it was the beer. I paid for all that walking on Sunday, but today I start PT, so I'm hopeful for some quick results in the recovery department.

In the knitting department, we are seeing gains. Tonight I'll cast on and hopefully finish the sleeves for the sweater. Now don't go thinking that my lace looks rather blobby and hideous. It hasn't been blocked (or hemmed) yet, but that will happen if the therapist doesn't make mincemeat of me later on. Blocking is where miracles happen with lace and the knitter must have great faith in water and wire (or pins). The photo itself isn't great as I took it with the Mac. I can't find my camera, nor my son's.

As I write this, Leo is being escorted by his master to Doggy Day Camp. He is going to be evaluated for inclusion into the pack of dogs that visit this joint just a mile down the street. His master doesn't have faith. I'm not so sure myself. He barks at every dog he sees when he's on the leash or in our yard, but things may be better when there are others around to put him in his proper place. Doggy Day Camp costs $23 a day, but it's all day long from 9 AM to 6 PM. We're hopeful it'll help him play well with others.

Heard as they were leaving for the assessment:

"Please don't embarrass me."
"I'm sure they'll kick us out"

Wish Leo well. He needs all the help he can get.

Saturday, August 7, 2010

Hallmark Days

It's a crisp refreshing morning in Detroit. The weather has finally changed, the humidity has taken a hike elsewhere, and I'm hearing neighborly noise I haven't heard all summer. Everyone has their windows open and the a/c off. The woman across the street is playing jazz that I hear between sounds of the vacuum and laughter. My next door neighbors are having a chat about garden plans in the backyard, and the dog on the corner the next street over is yapping.

It's glorious out there today. The high will be 80 degrees with a humidity too low to be mentioned.

It wasn't like that 23 years ago when I stood in a sweltering church in a long sleeved wedding gown and said, "I do." It was hot, hot, hot. And don't forget Hot's friend, Humid. Talk about wilted, I was.

Twenty three years doesn't seem like a long time, but with the challenges we've had raising our youngest, there have been times when it's seemed longer. We persevered though, which is more than I can say for many of the couples we know in the same situation. Marriages are often casualties in the families of children with special needs. I think I can attribute our success to my husband's sense of humor. It's pulled us through incredible difficulties and helped us survive the rough times.

Even if the long sleeved wedding gown was a mistake that day, saying, I do, was not.

Friday, August 6, 2010

Life goes on

I've been off work since Wednesday night to give my back an opportunity to heal and I'm trying hard to ignore the dust bunnies growing around the house. I think it's improving, though the therapeutic massage today was torture painful. My back is in spasm and none of the meds I'm taking seem to help. Of course, if I could get in to see a physical therapist, I think that might help, but they can't see me until Monday. By that time, I'll be two weeks post injury and time is a wastin'.

Tick, tick, tick.

Because this is a work related injury, I can't see anyone or do anything without the approval of occupational health and the worker's comp liaison. If I'd avoided occupational health and sought treatment the way I ordinarily do for back pain, I'd be better by now. Between massage and a chiropractor, I'd be cured and working my usual schedule. Instead, I've wasted an insane amount of time and been subjected to alternative work that made everything flare. Today I took a two hour spontaneous nap which seemed to help. I was awakened by the phone ringing and I had no idea where I was, what day it was, or the time. I must have needed it, but I worried my caller with my apparent confusion. The amazing thing is when I woke up, my back didn't hurt as badly as did this morning. Seems it pays to fight the higher ups for at least some therapeutic relief. I negotiated 3 massages and the first was today. We'll have another go on Monday afternoon. The MRI is tomorrow.

While I can't lift, clean or file, there have been no idle hands here. I have been knitting and I'm a few rows away from casting off on the lace sweater. I'll knit the sleeves, sew the seams and contemplate the ruffle. Since lace is a difficult project to carry around and really needs an attentive person at the other end of the needle end of things, I've been working on the ruffle border. This is a piece that can travel. It's knit separately, then sewn on and is kind of fiddly. I'm not loving it. I'm thinking of altering things and knitting a traditional ruffle just around the neck and instead of a ruffle on the sleeves, I'll do the picot border which would match the hem of the main body. The two ruffle swatches I've knit will work, but they will be different. The big advantage to knitting the ruffle I want will mean I pick up the stitches around the edge knit the ruffle and once it's done, it's done. No more sewing. Decisions, decisions.

I'll need one soon. What would you suggest?

Leo was sick yesterday and for the life of us, we couldn't figure out why. Today we got the answer for his bowel incontinence and vomiting. See the pedal on the trash can? He figured out how to step on the pedal and open the can to help himself.


This beastie boy is a lot of work.

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

A day in the life

Excuse me. Excuse me, please. Do you need help slicing that bread? I really like ciabatta bread and I see you're discarding the heel. There are starving dogs all over this city and it would be a shame to see that bread go to waste. May I partake?

Oh! I see you plan to grill the bread first and you've slathered it in olive oil. Mmmm. My favorite! Can I lend a paw to help you out? You should be resting. Really. You go sit on the heating pad and I will have that done in no time flat. I'll even remember to scrape the garlic on the grilled bread when I'm all done. I loves me some grilled garlic toast. Yum. Better than bacon if you ask me, though it would be better with bacon on top.

See? I can be good. I'll just wait here for you to drop the bread. No problem. I'maverypatientdogI'maverypatientdogI'maverypatientdog. Patience is my middle name. I know it's girlie, but if it works, I'll let you call me that.

As we prepare here for day two of the torture of Rudee, let us all pray that it's not as bad as August 2nd where I was forced to review documents for 7 hours while sitting on my injury and file for another 1 hour (bending and squatting to get the job done). The drive to this office took 45 minutes to get there and an hour and ten minutes to get home. All in all, I literally sat on my sciatic nerve for 10 hours today. The education of Rudee continues in an all out effort to let me know it's much better to suffer in silence then to speak up and be labeled as a thorn in the side.

The monkeys are now doing flips and we are drawing on the power of the Buddhas to help out. Does it count as double since we can see their reflections in the granite? I'd like to think so.

Monday, August 2, 2010

A word from the wise

Dearest Rudee:

The knitting universe has been smiling upon you of late. We don't know why you were chosen. After all, you've been knitting lace without a lifeline again and as a whole, we believe you to be completely out of your mind and in direct violation of several knitting rules laid down by The Guild. It's especially remarkable because you've been taking pain killers and muscle relaxers and noted that as soon as Mr. Larger Than Life walked in the door today, you popped the top of a cold one. However, your techniques and the cosmos seem to be working for you and we can't argue with that. You are nearly done with the body of the green mohair sweater and we beg of you, please do not take it to the office to dabble with while on break. Someone there is certain to see it and try to strong arm, or at the least, guilt you into donating it for their charity event. We are fully aware that you don't have the words, bite me, in your vocabulary to fend off such assaults. Instead, take something less glitzy like your yellow cardigan. In fact, offer to donate the stinky silk sweater instead! It's a win-win situmacation for all involved.

In addition, we wish you well on your transitional work assignment and would like you to channel this silent message from our monkey friends while you're traversing shark infested waters this week:

You can't go wrong following this sage advice.


The Guild

P.S. It's only too late to sink a lifeline after you've found you need one. Think about it!

Sunday, August 1, 2010

In a mood

Tomorrow I begin a transitional work program designed to make me never report another back injury get me up and in the proverbial saddle, so to speak. I will file or perform some other seated task for 8 hours straight. By the end of my day, my back will be all better and once again, I'll be capable of single handedly picking people up off the floor.

Cooking dinner this afternoon, I decided to listen to Quadrophenia while I sliced, diced and tossed everything together. Leo and Rachel are most excellent mooches and Leo would like you to know that Sugar Babies are his favorite type of watermelon. The rest of the menu is burgers, grilled bread salad, corn on the cabibble (as I like to call it), and cheesy potatoes. The melon is for dessert. I'll sprinkle mine with sal de mer while others will watch and grimace in disgust. So sue me...I like salt on my sweet watermelon.

Anyways, while cooking, one thought led to another and I began to recall a weekend in coastal Georgia some 8 years ago. It was right after I'd lost my dad and I'd accompanied my husband to a training agency for federal employees. During the day, he'd train and I'd mosey down to the beach, pop on the Bose head phones and listen to, The Who. At night we'd go out and eat the most excellent crab cakes I've ever had in my entire life.

Most people know bits and pieces of, Quadrophenia, but not much more than the singles like, Love, Reign o'er Me, or 5:15. If you've never listened to this work as a whole, you should give it a try. It really is a remarkable work of art.

Now, if you only have some Bose head phones, a nearby beach and some crab cakes handy, you'll get the whole picture.