Pigs are Flying

This has been the longest, hardest summer in a long time. I've not had a vacation since November when I took two days off and flew down to see my sister. Compared to all of my trips last year, I'm feeling, well, cranky.

My counterpart on the night shift has been on medical leave since May for knee arthroscopy and was due to come back to work the first week in July. She got a 4 week extension with a revisit to the doctor and won't be back until some time in August (if she doesn't find a way to squeak in more time). All of our contingent staff is covering her days off and there is nobody left to cover any time off for me. It probably wouldn't bother me so much if my colleague hadn't told me how much her shoulders hurt from painting her bedroom. I kind of figure if she can paint, she can work.

Yep. Cranky is the right word.

Today though, I managed to secure a 4 day weekend. I only nagged begged for a month to do this. We'll get up in the morning, pack a bag or two and then we're out of here. I'm not certain where we'll go. Kentucky sounds nice. So does northern Michigan. Toronto is too stinky with their garbage strike, but Chicago is a possibility. Maybe Cleveland and the Rock and Roll hall of fame. Anywhere but here.

Have a great weekend. See ya Tuesday.

Photo: Google Images

Was He Out of His Mind?

For the record, I know of 3 uses for Mother's Milk.  None of them include use of propofol (Diprivan) as a sleeping agent.  This drug is used solely for well monitored conscious sedation in an ER,  a longer term (but still limited) use in an ICU for sedation WHILE ON LIFE SUPPORT, and in an OR as part of sedation during surgery.

The drug's effects are short lived which makes it an ideal medication for each of those scenarios and would make it a poor choice for getting a good night's sleep.

Was the lure of $150,000 a month working for MJ enough to make someone throw away his career or even life?  What doctor in his right mind would administer a drug under such risky circumstances?  It may have been what his client wanted, but a jury of this doctor's peers are not going to think he acted reasonably.  He's done.

Greed.  It'll bite you in the arse every time.

That's So Yesterday

The beginning of July found me worried about my schedule. Would there be enough time to do all of the knitting I had to complete by the deadlines? I sit here tonight, mostly exhausted, but I can now say it's done. First the shawl, and now the squares.


I whipped through this twisted piece in no time. I gained confidence along the way. Most certainly, this was doable.



I started to get a little too full of myself by the time I started the church. There were several false starts all due to gauge. I started with US size 7 needles and had to immediately go down to a 6, then a 5, and finally, a US size 4. It's a smidge bigger than 12 X 12 but any smaller of a needle, and there would have been complete mutiny on my part and no stitch definition. Without that, what's the point?


I finished the church on Thursday and stared at the pattern for the bugs and leaves for 3 days. I couldn't understand the pattern as written. Maybe I was a bit burned out, but this was not written for the idiot novice, and when it comes to Aran knitting, that's what I am. I wouldn't call myself proficient yet, but I did conquer this square (that the book calls one of the most challenging) in a meager 14 hours. I only stopped to use the little girl's room, throw on another pot of coffee and scrounge for food. I am done.

And Mareseatoats? I changed my mind about the fourth square. I fear I'll need therapy if I take on another.

A Poem. Sort of.

Rudee Bo Peep had lost her sheep

and didn't know where to find them.

Into the car they hopped,

drove to where they shopped,

so she could do some rectifying.

Bo Peep bought wool for spinning

at $26 dollars a pound.

She swore to her mate this was a steal

and ultimately, she made a good deal

and her bargaining powers were sound.

She went down the street to Rapunzel's,

lured by the sign that shouted YARN on the door.

She and her mate had a schism

when she picked up the Prism

and dropped more money in that store.

THE END

As Usual Politics

G. Gordon Liddy is calling Obama a liar by saying he was really born in Kenya, not Hawaii and Obama is lying about his heritage. Really? Liddy? Now there's a man with stellar credentials. Bet he hangs with his far right wing Vicodin popping counterpart.

Besides my brother, who believes this crap? And don't we have more important work to do?

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

Only in this country, can one commit crimes, serve time in prison and then host a right wing radio show. Same deal with Mr. Bigmouth and his oxycontin and vicodin addictions. They behave as if they have cajones made of steel but their followers? They believe these guys as though nothing but the truth ever escapes their lips.

Like lambs to slaughter...

21

Twenty one years ago, I checked myself into the local hospital to have labor induced.  My son needed a kick start to get out into the world.  In complete opposition to this summer's weather, the summer of 1988 was sweltering and I couldn't wait to birth that child and be done with things.  He had other ideas and decided to be late.  Maybe he was late because we couldn't decide on a name.  On our drive to the hospital, we were still discussing the merits of our last two choices of either Matthew or Andrew as lifetime labels.  In the delivery room, we named him Brian. 

The hot temperatures began in April that year and didn't let up all summer.  Everything about me was huge: my belly, my face, my grotesquely swollen hands and feet, and my big mouth.  I don't think I ever complained so much in my life as I did during the summer of '88.  The last trimester was pure misery because of the heat.

As much trouble as this tardy boy was from the beginning, he has been a joy to have in my life ever since.  When he was 16 and his grandmother was ill, his grades slipped quite a bit as the importance of school began to pale in comparison to the importance of life and love.  Mimi was his best friend and he was losing her.  I wasn't concerned about his grades though as I caught a glimpse of the caring man he would become.  He took care of her everyday needs.  Every day.  No task of caregiving was too distasteful, hard or embarrassing for him to do for her.  It was his way of giving back to a woman who'd given him everything, but most importantly, unconditional love.  In the aftermath of this, he sees to his grandfather's needs which is no easy task.  He does this every day, too.

I'm proud of this young man and his accomplishments.  I forgive him for being late the first time I met him, but I have to admit it's taken me 21 years to say so out loud.

Happy Birthday, Bri.  

Gauge

Dear RudeeK Smartypants,

We saw that you whipped right through the Barbara McIntire square of the Great American Aran Afghan. We were particularly impressed that you got both row and stitch gauge and that your square measures an exact 12 inches. Good for you. You were even able to fix the stitches you accidentally purled instead of knit. We're proud of this because in the past, you'd have let the mistake stand and in our eyes, this would never do.

That said, we are gravely concerned with your work on the Suzanne Atkinson square of the afghan. Again, the directions state clearly that each square measures 12 x 12 inches. What you have so far is 14 inches wide. This piece doesn't have a lot of cabling that you can count upon to shrink the work. In fact, it has only a 2/2 LC and 2/2 RC that don't occur on every row. Do you think that's enough to shrink the width of your square by 2 inches?

At what point will you admit that tonight, you have no knitting mojo and throw in the towel?

Step away from the needles and yarn. Now.

Sincerely,

The Guild

P. S. We are concerned about recent events in your home. We suggest you offer up more to appease the spirits than scraps of merino yarn and a heel of Parmesan cheese. Clever though that was, we suggest you find some cashmere to leave out. And maybe explore the chicken bone, garlic and spitting ceremony.