Hither and Yon

Firstly, I am feeling better. I told my doctor this past Friday that I really wanted to get off of my current anti-repressant, as I had been taking it for six or seven years and I thought that it was making feel dead inside. She said okay, and told me how to taper off of it. I am to continue with the generic wellbutrin for the nonce, though.

I wasn't able to finish the socks for her, as I have made so many mistakes and had to rip back and redo and so on; but I took the partials to show her and I was able to ascertain her shoe size. I am now at the gussets and safari so goody.

One thing I have learned and wanted to share is this: when knitting with double pointed needles, to truly avoid the little gap between needles, to knit the first stitch tightly, and then knit the second stitch even more tightly. I have been using this technique on these socks, and I can honestly not tell where in my knitting the needles change.

I wish I could remember where I saw this; I thought it might have been Fleegle's Blog or Techknitting (see links in my sidebar as I am getting tired of html,) but I just checked and it wasn't them.

Here is a little treat for you Stephen Frye fans, which I found at this website.

Feed every two hours.

God damn it.

This morning, there was a fat and dead possum right in front of my house. I wasn't about to let it stay there and stink for days, so I took a plastic bag out to collect the carcass. One dead big possum, one dead baby possum, and one living baby possum.

Fuck.

I checked her pouch for other babies and there were none, so she and her dead baby went into the dumpster and I was left with this tiny thing whose eyes weren't even open. Jeezow. Man, I don't like possums, but what could I do? I couldn't just kill it or let it die without trying to save it. I brought it inside and googled "baby possum."

I went to the general store and bought some Gatorade because they don't carry Pedialyte. I wrapped it in a wash cloth and held it close to my chest, as it was cool. Not cold. The next directive was to get it to a wildlife rehab person asap.

Again, Google to the rescue. I found this place not too far from me, over in Kentucky.

Monica just happened to have a mama possum with older babies, and she was still producing milk, and when she put the tiny one into her pouch, she accepted it and it began to nurse. Yay!

Monica had a baby beaver, several wild bunnies, a heron, numerous birds including a duck in her hospital. She takes in everything that is brought to her.

So. If you have a few extra dollars, consider donating to her or your local rehabilitation center.

Thank you.

Be sure to read the directions first.

Good Neighbor Nancy wanted us to look at the tadpoles she found in deep, wet spot near her house. She said that there were bunches of them, and she was so excited. Gleeful, in fact.

So, we went and looked.

They were mosquito larvae. hundreds of them.

We said, "Those aren't tadpoles! What you have is a plague in progress."

She's out there still, dumping soapy water onto them.

Bad Language

Hugh Laurie in drag. Also, swearing. Enjoy.

Hemp for Victory

I present without comment, this WWII propaganda film.

Please Do Not Feed the Wild Life

Henny Penny, Roostifer, and Omelet



Big Red and Fried Chicken

Postage Due.

It's a cool and rainy day here in Lovely LA. Not a hard rain, which is good because the Ohio River is already high, but a slow and steady patter. A good day for reading and sleeping and playing Scrabble online.

I saw my doctor Friday. I love her, and since she has been my "primary care giver" for fourteen years, she knows me. She gave me a scrip for Wellbutrin, generic, along with some good advice. She also directed me to make something, to get creative. Make something for you? I asked and she said, Yes. Make me something. When I went to pay at the desk, I was told that there was no charge for the office visit. Already weepy, I became even moreso. She knew I had no insurance.

So, I have been working on the entrelac socks for her, and they are moving along without a hitch, finally. I may also knit her a stethoscope, because I think she would really appreciate the humor of it.

The chickens, all of them, are doing just fine. Little Omelet has grown so much and I need to take a picture of him/her. The second-tier rooster has begun courting Henny Penny again, so he is happy, and I think she is, too. As happy as chickens can be, I mean. The Girls have also grown; I think they are about 12 weeks old and their plumage has taken on adult shape and markings.

Oh, and if you have current textbooks or other books in good shape, check out this website. There are a plethora of books in my living room, and the piles grow larger every time Sweetie comes home.

Call Now!

Sometimes? It's a good thing to make another person cry.

Good Neighbor Nancy is, as her soubriquet explains, a Good Neighbor and a Good Friend. She babysits my dogs, she watches out for and feeds my chickens and bunnies as needed. She move turtles across the road. She is a kind woman, a good mom and aunt and grandmother, and a better sister than her sister deserves.

She is on disability because of a back injury, and is in almost constant pain. I cannot remember how many operations she has had just since I've known her.

She does a lot for others, but few do for her.

So, yesterday, Sweetie and I gave her a Tracfone so she can be safer while driving, and at home.

I gave her the green Cat Bhordi socks first, with a fancy keychain stuffed into one, and a Tracfone minutes card in the other. Then, we gave her the phone. Her very first cell phone.

And she cried.

Just Breathe

Now, a word from our sponsors...

Just a short post to say thank you to all of my friends, who have expressed concern for me.

Love you all.

I'll get through this.

Do Not Pass Go

So what is wrong in this photo of my current socks? The very cool and fun to knit entrelac socks?

Oh, just one extra motif in the one on the right.

Crap on a stick.

Do not freak out!

Way back in my twenties, you know, well before dirt, I went through this phase when sometimes, as I was driving with my first husband as my passenger, I would have an almost overpowering compulsion to veer into the concrete medians on the left-hand side of the freeways. And crash the car. You know, just to see what would happen.

I once asked him if he had these thoughts. Umm, no. Apparently sane people don't have these thoughts. Who knew? After he freaked out, I never mentioned it again. I was learning about boundaries then.

I don't think it was just the Atlanta traffic that put me in the mood, as awful as it was.

I have recently learned some disturbing news about my mom, and her desire, way back when I was about eight years old, to make an auto-driven getaway from life.

Damn that thick blood. Guess I came by my strange thoughts honestly.

She at last achieved her release, nine years later, with no cars involved.

So many new twists to this horrible story.

I will never actively act to end my life, but…but what? The possibility to do such is just a neuron's synapse away.

Yeah. We be Bad.

Flash Flood Warning

I have nothing, or rather, very little.

I have drank just a wee bit much lately, (really?) and then commenced to Drunk Facebook, which, in some ways, is much better than Drunk Dialing, but still. My inhibitions get thrown out the window and my nontheistic, my non-tolerant self, gets pulled to the forefront and I end up starting groups and replying to offensive posts in offensive ways. Then I wake up the next day and worry that I have pissed off dear friends and new friends.

I delete what I can.

I don't want to piss off people, but even my sober self gets tired of the rampant christianity that is out there. And the fact that they don't worry, or care, about mysensibilities at all. Sigh. If my friends want to believe in invisible entities, should I sit by quietly when they ask for prayers, or worse, spend bandwidth praising Jesus? Should I just not read and delete? I don't know. I am normally not combative.

(for example:for ALL MY FRIENDS I WOULD LIKE TO SAY THANKS FOR ALL YOUR PRAYERS OUR SON DILLAN CRASHED HIS CAR EARLY THIS MORNING AROUND 430 ON WESTPORT ROAD. THE CAR IS A LOSS BUT GOD WAS WITH DILLAN AN NOW WE HAVE HIM HOME AFTER 6 HOURS IN THE ER HE IS OK JUST BRUISES AND A CUT ON HIS NECK THE AIR BAG AND SEAT BELT ALONG WITH JESUS PROTECTED HIM.)

Airbags and seatbelts and a good ER team are what worked. Hope he wasn't out drunk at 4:30 in the morning. I don't think Jesus really gives a crap.

Raining lots this weekend. Flooding everywhere. Livestock is drenched, but fine, and this is better than just-above zero temperatures most any day. Sweetie has made a second attempt to get into Louisville to work. Early today, all the roads around were flooded and he returned home to sleep a few more sweet hours. Haven't heard from him, so I am assuming all is well.