Tuesday, September 05, 2006

Dancing Widdershins Photos

The first Christmas present of the season are finished - if unwashed can be considered finished. I am starting a basket of knitted things that need to be washed, and/or felted and blocked. I figured I'll get a bunch of stuff together before I start washing them, then do it all in a batch. More efficient that way . . . and I can procrastinate some more until I can get some sock blockers. All of a sudden, they just seem like a "gotta-have" even though I've knitted socks for years without them.

It was a stretch to find any color in my garden, as my flowers are all fading here. Other than the annuals in the garden in back that I've used numerous times and the Russian sage and these black-eyed Susans, I'm running out of pretty flowers to use in my pictures. I'm going to have to get creative until autumn leaves start tumbling around here.

Today was are first full day of "official" school. Of course, it was a comedy of errors. The day started off with a flat tire. Because I had to have a functioning car, off I hustle to the tire place, first thing in the bright and sunshiny morning. In the past, I used to have to drag all four of the kids, with school books, with me to every appointment. This particular car joint has a waiting room the size of my master bathroom with exactly four chairs, two little cafe tables and a miniature picnic table with a box of building blocks as a diversion for the ankle biters, to keep them from trying to climb the very much more attractive towers of black tires that leave very permanent marks on every article of clothing and little body part that comes in contact with it. While I appreciate the attempt at diversion, the blocks are a very poor alternative to the obvious jungle gym built of rubber in the lobby, as viewed through the eyes of four active children who would rather eat dog doodoo than do their math pages in a miniscule waiting room.

So, with great delight, I decided to leave my younger two girls home with the older children, knowing that a 13 yo and an almost 12 yo who have both passed the Red Cross babysitting course can manage watching their siblings for an hour or so while I get the car fixed. And I don't have to keep them off those cursed tire towers. Oh, the freedom! I load up my knitting bag, my MP3 player and head off to get the car fixed.

I settle in, I'm blissfully knitting away on my two socks at once, listening to my worship music on my MP3 player when someone taps me on the shoulder. "Excuse me, your cell phone is ringing." Blast! It's the kids. WWIII has erupted. DS1 has done this and DD2 won't do this and DD3 is crying . . . blah, blah, blah. I calmly redirect everyone to their assigned tasks, calm the hysterical, assure the angry that I will assume control when I return. I hang up and return to my knitting, without my headphones. Better not risk missing another call.

Then the mechanic comes in. Bad news, my 11 yo car needs more work than we thought. Blast! We can't afford anything extra right now. I get the details, call my DH and he gets upset . . . "oops, that was a swear word that slipped out" upset. I start giggling, I'm not sure why, but somehow, it was just so funny. What I thought would be my happy little place had turned into a crazy, crabby, crummy zone and it just struck me as so absurd. I was still laughing when I told the mechanic what work to do, what to give me an estimate on, I sat and smiled through the remaining wait, while still knitting away on the socks, waiting for the next war bulletin from the front lines.

The irony is, the rest of the day didn't go much better. I had several more errands in the car, which is why it HAD to be fixed this morning, and I received regular news bulletins from the battlefront. It was not pretty. And now my house happens to look like a war zone, too. Yikes! Fortunately, with exception on one bloody nose, there were no serious injuries and everyone seems to have forgiven each other and to be on good terms.

As for me, I've had a glass of wine and I'm feeling much better now.

On a more serious note, my heartfelt prayers go out to Steve Irwin's family and friends. He was a personal inspiration for our family. My DS#1 is planning to become a vet and counted the Crocodile Hunter as his personal hero. One of his life goals was to meet Steve Irwin. He is disappointed that it will not occur on earth and is looking forward to meeting him in Heaven. My son asked how he'd find Steve in Heaven and I told him to just look for the wild animals and listen for the, "Crikey!" God bless you, Steve. Our prayers are with you, Terri, Bindi and Bob.

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