(R.H. Herron)
Got this from Bethany — hers was totally her, and this is totally me. Gotta love a stupid quiz.
You are a neurotransmitter. You believe in the
good-naturedness of man’s biology and soul.
You’re happy, everyone’s happy, and no one will
ever take that away from you. Or else you’ll
make them go insane.
Which Biological Molecule Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
With all the news on TV lately about the sub zero weather and snow that the east coast and upstate NY areas are experiencing, we shouldn’t forget that Southern California has its share of devastating weather also. I’ve attached a photo illustrating the excessive damage caused to a home from a west coast storm that passed through the Los Angeles area a couple of days ago. It really makes you cherish what you have, and reminds us not to take life for granted!!!
* Don’t know where this originated — my sister Christy forwarded it to me in my email. Love it.
DMV. Oy. Where do they find them? I understand that their job is to deal with unhappy people. But come on, that’s my job, too. No one calls the police department when they’re ecstatically happy.
But I needed to pick up my plates (I YARN). I had an appointment last week to pick them up. Appointments rock. If you have one, you usually wait less than an hour. But when I went to remove the old plates, right before the appointment, I couldn’t get them unscrewed from the car. It was like those stupid bolts had rusted right to the car. I sat in the driveway, in the rain, after being up working and moving for 30 hours straight, crying because I was skinning my hands on the damn screwdriver. There was a gardening crew working across the street, and when I started disgusting myself by hoping that a big ole gardener would come help me I gave up, went inside and sat on the couch. I breathed.
So earlier this week, after getting a friend to remove them for me, I went to DMV without an appointment on my day off. (Appointments take about three weeks to get, and plates are cancelled and returned if not picked up after 30 days, so I had a time crunch.) I waited in line for about thirty minutes to get my slip of paper that said I would be number B140. The wait time on the scrolling marquee said I had a two hour wait. So I left and had lunch. Came back an hour and a half later — they were up to B40. I went and ran errands for an hour. When I came back, they were at B55. Two hours later, I gave up and just sat there for another hour, working on Cromarty. Basically, six hours later, they were only up to B95, and I had to be somewhere and left. Frustrated out of my mind. And it smelled funny in there. Hot and stuffy. Way too much hair product.
Yesterday, I went back for my last attempt. I arrived at 7:30, half an hour before it opened. There were only about a hundred people in front of me. When the doors opened, there were at least two hundred behind me. We waited in the ticket line, which took till 8:30 to navigate. Then I sat down to wait my turn. I watched an elderly man with limited English skills deal with the woman who was going to issue him the driving test.
She said, “You’re late. I can’t help you.”
He said, “But I wait in line.”
Loud, exaggerated words. “You’re late! Your appointment was at eight. It’s eight-thirty. Make another appointment.”
“But I take day off work for this.”
“I CAN’T HELP YOU.”
Luckily, he had a friend who advocated for him, who pointed out that he had been in line since 7:15, and it was only the sluggishness of the lines that had made him late. She still insisted that there was nothing that she could. She was SO rude and SO curt. His friend asked for a manager who said to let him take the test. Oh, that chapped her hide, all right. I was so pleased.
But the pleasure left when they called my number at 9am. Yep. The plate was wrong. It said “IYARN,” no space between the words, and it was all grouped over to the right. So the second half of the plate was blank. I even thought about accepting it for a minute. I couldn’t bear thinking about dealing with this all over again. So I asked the woman helping me. “How does this look to you?” She raised an eyebrow and said without hesitation, “Stupid.”
All right. I waited another hour for them to cancel the plate and re-send my corrected request. So in six to eight weeks, I’ll be doing this all over again.
We had a marvelous day yesterday, and it was just like we thought. It was sunny, right up until the middle of the afternoon, when it clouded over. First thing, we went and looked at the most beautiful city in the world (next to Venice) from Alameda.
Then on to BART, where we went straight the Sony Metreon, a huge glass building that houses Sony shops and arcades and a theatre and restaurants. We gazed at the wonderful floors and high glass walls, buying nothing but touching everything, and spent a brief raindroppy period in Mel’s Diner next door. We’re talking big ole french dips and a sundae the size of my head (this is becoming a welcome trend, I think).
After lunch, the sun came out again! It was one of those perfect rare San Francisco days when the wind dropped and the sun shone and people smiled. We headed, of course, to ArtFibers (our second of three yarn shops), to see my friend Kira. Greta barely got out of there alive. It is only the size of her luggage that restricts her shopping at this point. She’s already putting a box together for me to send after her. This is what makes life, good, yes?
Two big YIPPEEs today.
Yippee #1: The Boys have extra Kersti for Cromarty. Different dye lot, but I SO don’t care. And thanks for all the comments — for a minute there I was feeling like the Wicked Sinning Knitter (forgive me, Father, I’m off in my yardage again). It’s a good lesson. For Starmore, buy eighty-seven skeins too many, and you’ll be all right.
Yippee #2: Greta’s here again for a couple of days! We’re going to play all day. It’s crazy when we’re together. We could sit and just talk. All day. Not exaggerating here. My friends have always thought of me as not a glass-half-full person, but the-glass-is-overflowing-all-over-the-table person. And Greta’s the same way. Wonderful, lovely, beautiful things will happen today, just because we know they will. If it rains, we’ll take shelter in a yarn shop somewhere and drink tea. And she and daughter-bird are the first two to stay with me in my new home. Two more perfect guests I could not imagine.
** She just said, “I love Hermann Hesse. He cracks me up. Especially when you read the German.”
She’s so fabulous.
It’s now official: I’m going to run out of Koigu Kersti for Cromarty. I’ve sent a panicked note off to the Boys to see what they can do, since the Koigu people apparently want to adopt both of them (which is so great – whenever I go into my LYS (mentioning no names, as I have several LYSs), the owner is complaining about how the Koigu people won’t work with her. Well, duh, lady. You’re such a whiner! Be nice, sweet, and utterly fabulous like they are, and Koigu will work with ya. Till then, get over your LYSelf).
Here she is right now:
I’ll need eight more skeins, if I’ve done my math right. What the bleeding hell? I got three extra skeins originally, just to be on the safe side. My row count is a little off, but I never really worry about that. The stitch count is spot on, and the sweater measures to the right proportions. I’m done with both sleeves and eight inches up the front, and it keeps eating up the yardage. Any ideas? Is it because I’m such a loose knitter and working on such tiny needles to get gauge that each stitch is eating up more yarn that it normally would? Can that be true? Was Starmore’s yardage off? Somehow, I doubt that. She wouldn’t be off by such a massive amount. Can anyone tell me how many yards were in the Rowan DDK the pattern originally called for? I thought they was pretty comparable to Kersti’s 114yds/skein, so I’m shocked at this difference. And scared. I know the dye lots won’t be the same. But will they be close?
It’s yarn. It’s color in yarn. It ain’t a national crisis. But I’m a little worried. Erp.