Just Another Boring Blog

Here's a little update on the goings-on at the Showalter residence this week. Frankly, it's a bit boring. I've become a boring person. Oh well, I guess there are worse things to become - like a horrible, ugly, jerk. I'll take boring.

Knittery: I'll start with a week ago Saturday. I got up early (8:45 a.m.), on my own, without crying or whining, on a Saturday morning to go...to a knit-in at my local yarn store! I was a little nervous considering I wouldn't know anyone there. Would I fit in? Would they think my project was lame or that my stories were dull? Would they tell me, in as many words, that my kind was not welcome? When I got home at noon Brian asked how it was and I replied, "It was only the best time ever." Something about sitting around knitting with a bunch of people and having idle and interesting chit-chat, enjoying each others company and admiring their work is so relaxing and energizing. Conversation ranged from knitting projects to books we're reading to bras. Even though these are strangers conversation is easy and enjoyable. We do, after all share a common interest which is a good start. And everyone is pretty much looking at their hands, lest they drop a stitch, which provides a safety in sharing. None of this intense eye-contact business. They meet the first Saturday of the month and I intend to become a regular.

Here's the project I finished that day. I call it my "I am Woman, Hear Me Roar" bag. Because it's really the first project I've done completely on my own.



Cleanery: Last week was spring break around here, so I didn't have piano lessons. And the weather was beautiful and it made me want to spring clean. And so on Monday I turned into a mean, cleaning machine. (Here's where that "I've turned into a boring person" really comes into play.) I had to pick and choose my projects because I so wanted to turn this house upside down in my cleaning frenzy. But I got a lot done. What is it about a day of thorough cleaning that makes me feel like a productive and worthwhile citizen? Wow that was rewarding. I really need to wash my windows though. I'm embarrassed to say how long it's been. But the last time I did it a bird immediately flew into my clean window and dropped dead. I decided it was a sign from God that I should not have clean windows. But I think even Jesus would be shaking his head in disgust at the current state of my windows.

Friendery: We've recently started playing Rummy with friends of ours, which is a darn good time. That's how old and boring we've gotten. But I also had a great time at the Theater with my friend Heather on Friday night. We saw a great production of "Annie." Which leads me to...

Vacationery: On Saturday morning we had the most lovely and fun Easter breakfast with my family. We had to have Easter breakfast a day early because I then had to get Brian to Da-Lite so he could catch a flight to Holland. Again. (Over Easter? Really Da-Lite?) So he's trotting around Amsterdam right now and I have another week of solitude. Although this time I'm not quite as excited about it. I talked to him a few minutes ago and told him to tell me what he's seen. All he could say was, "Well, we've seen everything...You know." No, I don't know. Name some names. Give some detail. "Well, we've just seen a bunch of stuff. Everything really." Thank you for such a compelling and detailed account of your travels abroad. I can't wait to hear more about you seeing "stuff" and talking to "people" about "things." But, after finding out that he would be heading to Europe again Brian didn't feel any compunction about Heather and I heading to England!!! So, plane tickets have been purchased and travel guides bought and Heather and I are making plans to have tea with the Queen! (The last part is a lie but I would like a spot of tea while there.)

Pettery: So, for now it's just me and the animals around here. After the trip to the vet last week with Fitty, I now have another animal with undignified itching. Reggie's hind-end seems to be giving him trouble. So tonight I shall don my rubber gloves and attempt to do some unpleasant veterinary-type procedures and see if I can heal him. It should be a very fulfilling evening.

That's all for now. More boring blogs to follow...

Trip to the Vet

There's always a little song and dance that has to be done when I need to take one of the cats to the vet. And today was Lex's turn (a.k.a. "Fitty"). Fitty's been scratching like it's going out of style and he wants to get one last lick in. He's losing hair and losing weight and ugh, can't these animals just stay healthy?

So I'm driving home from work, plotting the best way to trap the cat. I figure the best thing to do is act natural. Fitty can smell a plan hatching a mile away and then he hides in some strange crevice in the house that I can't possibly get to. Then he hunkers down for the long haul forcing me to use the broom handle to scooch him out, which traumatizes him so he starts to drip saliva out of his mouth, and then there's a wild chase around the house which ends with me cursing and experiencing an unsafe elevation in heart rate. (Repeat this once a month for application of the flea preventative.)

I walk in the house as breezy and normal as can be. I don't have a cat carrier so I snagged a box and a laundry basket. I walked right up to him, scooped him up, placed him lovingly in the box and wedged the laundry basket down on top of it tightly. He did the crazy "distress" meow. I assured him he'd be fine. And then I walked away because we had an hour before needing to leave for the vet. (I didn't think I could act natural for very long I guess.) And then he popped the top off my cat-carrying-contraption and escaped! I knew things would now be considerably more difficult.

I went back to plan "a" - act natural. I acted like his escape did not phase me a bit. I then implemented plan "b" - do things that normally lures him upstairs. I opened up sandwich meat. No Fitty. I poured cereal in a bowl. No Fitty. I poured milk in the bowl. Still no Fitty. I went to the basement to scope out the situation. He was in a high area that would require broom handles. I didn't want to do that just yet. So I took the bowl of cereal down stairs with me. I don't like cereal and all we had was a box of year-old cornflakes. But, in a bid to act natural, I sat down and started eating the stale cereal. With trepidation he approached the bowl. He dipped his paw in a few times and started purring. Then I felt horrible for what I was going to do next. So I snatched him up and off we went...with the crazy "distress" meows providing the soundtrack to our car trip.

So now, Fitty's on the roids. (He got a steroid shot.) Let's hope he doesn't get roid rage - because I know where he'll be directing that hostility.

Disturbing...

Friday is trash pick-up day at the Showalter house. As we pulled into our garage last night Brian said, "Huh, there's an extra trash can sitting there." We inherited another trash can. Weird, but not so weird.

This morning we were sitting outside drinking coffee and playing fetch with Reggie. All of sudden Brian says, "I hope there's not like, a dead baby in that trash can." I gasped in horror, nearly choking on my mouth-full of coffee, wondering what in the world could have made Brian come up with this possibility.

He walks to the trash can, checks it, returns to me and reports, "No dead baby."

A few moments later he says, in a matter-of-fact tone, "It happens you know."

Phew! I guess we narrowly averted that messy situation.

The Flair Fairy Has Struck Again

The Flair Fairy continues his or her sneaky work at church, further intriguing me. Who in the world can this possibly be?

My most recent pieces of flair:

My sister suggested that I should knit an item such as a hat or scarf to place these wonderful buttons on. I think that's a FANTASTIC idea. What to knit, what to knit...

A Little Knittery Update

My sister was here this weekend and we have both become huge fiber fanatics. She is probably a bigger fiber fanatic than I am. And it is oodles of fun to have somebody here who totally gets my obsession and can talk fiber lingo with me. And she brought a hysterically funny knitting book from her library, Mason Dixon Knitting (they also have a website here). I sat at my dining room table and read bits of the book that would make me giggle with joy, and then I would share the excerpt with my sister who would giggle with me...and admittedly our giggles sound creepily a lot alike. And our husbands would look at us and then at each other feeling lost, and say, "I don't get it." Which would make Lanie and I laugh even harder. The book even had a section that was written as if for the characters of The Red Tent which is one of my favorite books of all time. I could have died and gone to heaven, it was the funniest thing I have read in ages.

AND, my local yarn store was having a customer appreciation night on Friday and so my sister joined me and I bought yarn and it was delightful. So we sat together and I knit and Lanie crocheted and all was right in the Showalter house. Here are projects I completed this weekend:

I finally finished my socks! Hooray!

And here is my uneasy male model, Brian. His hat I had made him was just too small. It fit my nephew, Casey, really well. So I gave his hat away and it made Brian really sad. So I knit him up a new one and he is quite pleased...and so am I.

A Hillbilly Christmas Treat

Last year I heard tales that it is quite spectacular to keep one's (real) Christmas tree until the summer and then burn it. And the wheels, they started a turnin' in my head. And this last Christmas I just happened to decide, for the first time in about five years, to buy a real Christmas tree. So on January 2, I deposited said Christmas tree on my back patio and just let it lay there. Sure, I could have put it in my garage to dry out but where's the fun in that? For the last three and a half months that tree has laid on that patio as a sad reminder of how horrible Brian and I are at the whole "curb appeal" concept.

This past weekend my sister Lanie and her family came to visit. They spent the night at our house Friday and then the plan was to move the party to my brother Tim's glorious slice of heaven way out in the country on Saturday. We'll call his homestead "Schmucktopia." Schmucktopia is 19 acres of private grounds, surrounded by trees which are surrounded by corn fields. They have a fire ring area out back where the stars shine more brightly than you can imagine and happiness abounds. Robust political debates are had. (Tim is right-wing, I am left-wing. Together we make a chicken.) The dogs roam freely and Reggie gets muddy and the frogs sing their mighty song. And the time had come to burn the Christmas tree.

We hauled the tree over there and Saturday night we gathered every person by the fire to watch the ceremonial burning. I wanted the tree to stand up straight in the middle of the bonfire but Brian and Tim thought I was crazy (considering that the fire had been already built up to an unsafe level). Brian grabbed the tree and I waited with baited breath. All chairs were moved far away from the fire and all humans were behind them (I don't know what we thought was going to happen). Brian threw the tree on the fire...and that darn tree just kept jumping off the fire into Brian's arms where he attempted to throw the tree back on. After dancing around with the flaming tree for several rounds we finally screamed at him to "LET IT GO!" And that tree took off and it was all I had dreamt of. 25 foot flames, loud crackling, wild sparks flying, small children shrieking in fear. Three minutes later it was all done. And it was totally worth it; every second of it. If only I had 10 trees to burn. It was that good. I would highly recommend this to all of you who deal in real Christmas trees. And perhaps you all already knew this and wonder why I haven't tried it before. I was a rookie this year...but next year, I might even buy two trees.

I'll Beat You With My Shillelagh (Pronounced shi-LAY-lee)

BLARNEY! I'm happy to report that the St. Patty's Day party was a lot of fun. Irish music, a quiz of all things Irish, a limerick writing contest, Irish pictionary, a game of heave-ho, silly prizes, and loads of people dressed in green. Oh yeah, and a whole bunch of green food that I hope did not have a "greening" effect, shall we say, on every one's "digestive systems."

My Limerick for Brian, who was, sadly, absent for the festivities:

(To be read with an Irish brogue)

There was a big doofus named Brian

Couldn't win, but he always was tryin'

He'd argue with me

But the best fighter I be

And our spats always leave him a'cryin'.