WOW!

I have been resisting change since the beginning of time. I'm one of those that keep the same sneakers because they are 'broken in'. Blogger has been begging me to change over to their new format for months and I've blithely ignored them, until today. Finally, I decided to change over to the new blogger format, and so far, I'm impressed. They give me font choices (though none of them are exactly exciting. It's still a choice). I get font size choices! See that? I can make things big or small, or in different colors! Though I'm resistant to change I do like having choices, since in my home my only choice is between putting the dog out NOW or cleaning up some one's mess NOW. The senile dog usually wins.

This weekend happens to be camping for the cub scouts, which means the menfolk are sleeping in the wilderness and doing muddy boy-type things. It's supposed to be around 32 degrees tonight, so we'll see how much they complain when they get back.

Little One and I are having 'girl time' which means at the moment I get to watch cartoons while she plays in her room. If I turn the cartoons off I'll get yelled at. Other than that, things are quiet. I like quiet and changeless. Unless the change means I'll get font colors!

The Dog's POV

POV is point of view, for you non-writerly types. Yesterday the dog celebrated his 12th birthday (he was a Thanksgiving Puppy). Here's his take on it:

8AM: I woke to children pressing their faces in mine and singing this horrid song. Then THE ONE I WORSHIP joined in--I can never fault her for bad singing--but it definitely made me thankful I am losing my hearing.

9AM: More off-key singing. THE ONE I WORSHIP fed me bones to ward off the headache brewing in my skull. I went out to escape the tone-deaf children. Dammit, it's raining out, so there's not a single squirrel to chase and now my butt is wet. And to make me more miserable, the yellow-bus-thing isn't coming. THE ONE I WORSHIP said so. :::sigh::: Back inside.

Noon: I have napped, dreamed of rabbits, and was woken by THE ONE'S mate to be petted. I think there's a conspiracy afoot.

3:00 The Yellow-bus-thing isn't coming to deliver the children because they are still here. Singing. To me. ::sigh::: If I were a bad dog, I would rip their vocal cords from their throat but THE ONE loves them for some reason. I must stay on THE ONE'S good side. I will accept bones from the children.

5:00 THANK my lucky paws, they are all leaving and going to that place called 'grandma's'. Though I like GRANDMA's because there is catfood and other delights, I am glad I don't have to go out into the rain and listen to more singing.

8:00 They have returned. The pups are going to bed, and no one is singing. They must have gotten it out of their systems at Grandma's. Grandma has lots of squirrels to chase. Maybe they did that. THE ONE has sat next to me and told me a story. I liked the petting and cuddling, though I have no idea what she was talking about. Even THE ONE'S mate seems happy. THE ONE has promised me a WALK!, but I think she means tomorrow. I'm tired, anyway.

Flipping Fish and Banquets

My mom wanted to know why I knitted if it drove me so insane. I have to admit, usually I find it quite enjoyable. I'm not good at knitting new stuff, though. Like the socks. Some of the patterns aren't quite what I want, so I have to modify them enough to make them perfect for me. Unfortunately, I have huge feet.

We spent the weekend very busy with lots of different things. I had a craft show to drag my stuff to (thanks to another mom who watched it for half the day while I worked), then there was the racing banquet, and lots of other things going on. K ended up as Rookie of the Year for our club, a great honor. Both kids got huge trophies and (almost) everyone was happy. The Little One is very odd about people and crowds and stuff. We used to take her to Thanksgiving Dinner at my parent's in FL and I don't think they saw her for the first two years. She'd hide until dinner was done then come out and I'd feed her a bowl of something.

In other news, we're teaching the fish tricks. Well, I'm trying to, anyway. The biggest goldfish is silver with a huge red bulge on his head. He's very deformed looking and floats around like a bus amongst little taxi cabs. Because of his big head he's able to flip over easily, so he tends to get caught in the currents and do barrel rolls, end-o's (tail over head flips) and corkscrews.

DH didn't believe me that Nemo (the babysitter named him--we were calling him Big Brain) could do barrel rolls, so I stood next to the fish tank and coached Nemo through his paces. The damned fish did every roll BUT a barrelroll, then he'd get bored and go the other side of the tank. When I walk up the stairs, he comes rushing over thinking he'll get fed, so when he got bored I'd stomp stomp on the stair and he'd rush over and begin to flip. After about 15 minutes the damned thing finally did a barrel roll. Thank goodness.

Happy Thanksgiving a day early! We're going to try to catch "Alice's restaurant" on the radio at noon. I hope it's on in your neck of the woods!

Knitting and Death

Yes, you read that correctly. This could mean that I'll croak if I have to knit one more scarf (two down, two half way done). It could mean that I've been sentenced to knit until I die (not a horrid fate at all). But however, it refers to about one minute, the amount of time it would take for me to die if I was stabbed in the heart by a knitting needle.

Gory, I know. The conversation came up when I was knitting in the dark on a road trip. Yes, it's possible to do because you can feel the yarn split and all that. Plus this was a scarf on huge needles. How can you mess up?

So after my friend asked if we skimped on electricity, I informed her that I would knit in the dark on the way to visit in my mom when she lived in NH. Of course, this was after DH and I had a huge battle about the fact that we could crash and I could be impaled on my needles and croak.

So me, being curious and ever-the writer, asked my friend (a doctor) how long it would take to croak on a knitting needle. Her reply was probably a minute, maybe a little longer.

Now, to those that think a minute isn't long, you're wrong. Oatmeal in the microwave takes about a minute to cook. When my camper exploded while we were driving, we had less than 30 seconds to get out. Let me tell you, that was the longest half-minute of my life. And knowing me, I wouldn't be saying good-bye to the world, I'd be looking at my watch screaming, "You were WRONG! See? It's been 1 minute 45 seconds and I'm not ready to move to the white light!"

But as you can see, I'm still here. No knitting accidents, thank goodness. Now to get to work on the scarf.

Updates Galore!

My my, I haven't posted in eons. Mom even emailed me to say, "Blog so I know what's going on!"

Racing: Was postponed from last weekend to this weekend because of a huge rainstorm (the remains of Paul or some tropical thing from California--that didn't sound very good, did it? I don't know if I want Paul remains coming here anyway). So instead we carved pumpkins.

Racing went AWESOME, the boy-child's new kart arrived and he raced like a little demon. He ended up 4th for the entire weekend (they do a points system for 3 feature races). He won his first money and was so excited (except he had to split it with Dad). He also learned a bunch of things, which was good. I was so proud because it was a true regional race, with top-notch competition. It was awesome.

I have to give a special shout-out to the Jackson's and the Iovinos for their hospitality. They had big heaters, kart scales, a microwave and hand warmers that saved the day for each of us at some point in the weekend. The Iovinos had quite the bachelor pad, with a grill, microwave and quite the assortment of food (steaks and burgers, dudes). I'm thinking we'll steal some of those ideas for the next race.

The Girl Child, as usual, amazed everyone. She only had two races, was dead last in the first one, but she had a good time. Unfortunately, she was timid about passing kids, so even though she was fast she was last (see, Ricky Bobby was wrong--you can be fast and still be last, if you don't pass).

The second race, she approached the first car, and I told DH, "She's going to pass!" He said, "Nah, just watch." And she proved Daddy wrong by blowing by the kid. Then she passed the next, and the next, until she was fourth. She almost had third at the line, too. It was a neck-and-neck finish. She thinks she was second (it's hard for them to keep track of where they are) so we let her believe that.

Knitting: I triumphed over the sock, but I still had to fix it. I also made myself another pair of socks, but I didn't like the toe. So I have three socks I don't like, am starting a fourth. I also worked on 2 presents with the Girl-child. She's making scarves (or rather, she does a row, I fix it, then I do a few rows).

The Old Dog has Lymes Disease. The poor dude has been hobbling about but is feeling better since the beginning of his antibiotics. He can even get into the car now. We went to Dunkin Donuts this morning and I got the girls to give him munchkins for getting into the car. He was stoked.

I think that's about it. Today I have to drag the kids to the dentist (though they actually like going). I have to hit Walmart and buy daffodil bulbs for the kids to plant at school, and tomorrow is a day off. They get two this week. I may have to invest in duct tape to strap them down so I can get some work done.