Rachael

Okay, Emily’s done it again. I don’t always blog my friend’s patterns, even if I heart them. That’s mainly because I just forget. But dude, go look at her sweater. If I wasn’t loving knitting cables again, good old sturdy cables, I’d cast on for that, like, now.

Also, Nathania mentioned in Emily’s comments that Emily looks like a Vermeer painting. I think that’s just right. Isn’t she purdy?

However, right now? I need big cables! I have lost patience for all else! It’s the only kind of knitting making me happy right now. All this more than 5st/inch…. ack. Gives me a headachle. (Heh. Typo, but I like that.) Come spring, though, I’ll be all over the fine knitting again, and I’ll make Emily’s lovely sweater. Something about fall approaching makes me want sturdy yarn, good definition, and no more than 4.5 st/inch. I’d admit to preferring 4st/inch, but that would make me look lazy, wouldn’t it?

I wasn’t really going to write about knitting. Whoops. What I meant to write about was going to the beach the other days with the you-know-whats.

There was this woman there, a nice, older woman. A sensible looking woman. Nice looking dog with her. My dog Clara ran up to the lady and said hi. She gave Clara a carrot.

NO! No feeding my dog without asking! And even then, I’ll say no, because she’s turned, recently, into this huge beggar dog, the annoying kind that smells a treat in a stranger’s pocket and stands there, looking and demand-sitting, then nuzzling and pushing with her muzzle. Extremely not-okay behavior in my dog, so now no one is allowed to give her treats but me or Lala.

So this lady gave her a carrot. And then looked at me. I said,  "Thank you, but no more, please."

She said, "Why not?"

I could have gone into the above discussion with her, how I don’t want a dog that begs because that’s a horrid trait, but I was feeling anti-social and didn’t want to interact with humans. So I said, "She’s allergic."

She said, "She can’t be."

I said, "Carrots make her sick."

"That can’t be. How is that? I don’t believe that."

By then, of course, I was deeply invested in and believing my own lie, and offended that she would dispute the absolute truth I was making up. "Carrots give her diarrhea. She gets very, very sick. Violently ill." (This WAS just after Clara’s mystery illness, and I was treating her tummy very carefully. That part is true.)

"No, they don’t."

"Even one carrot will do it."

"No."

"Yes."

Then she shrugged, and I humphed, and we pretended to be polite about each others’ mangy curs. I felt vaguely guilty about my lie.

It wasn’t until much later that what I was feeling wasn’t really guilt, but irritation. How are you gonna argue with someone about what their beloved pet is or isn’t allergic to? Huh? I think I’ll try that soon with a kid allergic to peanuts. I’ll tell mom that the kid can’t be allergic, that she must be wrong. That’ll go over well.

This soccer-dog mom thing is making me protective. Grrr.

https://rachaelherron.com/okay_emilys_don/

Holy COW am I sleepy.

Two things this early morning: One, if you’re in the area of Tahoe this weekend, come see The Whoreshoes play the Sugarbowl Festival. Dude, they’re playing with the likes of Ozomatli, and The Old Crow Medicine Show. Oh, yeah.

And two, yesterday I was at the dog park, right? Sitting on a chair, knitting, watching the dogs gambol. Something bit my neck, hard. I thought at first it was a wasp, but when I hit it away, it was a ladybug! Ladybugs bite? Quel horror!

I was offended that the old girl didn’t remember how many times I’d talked her into going home and rescuing the kids.

https://rachaelherron.com/holy_cow_am_i_s/

I just ran across’t a post by Lala, written almost two years ago when I moved into the condo. It still makes me laugh. (Scroll to bottom of page.)

Update (annotated).

Well, here we go. I’ve been angsty lately, haven’t I? I’m sitting here at work, and it’s quiet, but my brain is not, so I’ve decided to lay it all on you. All my random thoughts and worries and junk. Seriously, better here on the screen than rattling in my brain. I’m going to list things, since my brain is jumpy anyway.

1. Janine told me the best advice in a comment the other day: Do not have conversations with people who are not in the room. That has saved my brain a few times recently. On Monday, she and Becca and I went out to coffee, and she told me another zen-like statement. I shoulda written it down, but it was SO good I thought I’d remember. I celebrated the wrong birthday this year, so we know my memory’s bad. Janine, what was that?

    1b. What a random way to start a list. With something I don’t remember.

2. Money worries. Niggling worries, made stronger by the fact that Miss Idaho’s surgery today (mammary tumor, think good thoughts, please — she’s home and recovering) set us back the price of my plane ticket to Europe. Of course, that doesn’t really mean anything, since we’ve already bought our tickets, so it’s just money charged, and money charged on pets is always okay by me (ask my three grand cat Digit), but I ask you this: How does ANYONE save money? Do you? And if you do, I don’t want to hear about it. Unless you have a genius-like idea on turning couch cash into gold bars.

    2b. I remember what Janine said! She said, "If you have a problem that can be solved with money, you don’t have a very interesting problem." How much do you LOVE that?

We heart Janine:

and we heart Becca:

I love meeting with these ladies for knitting and coffee and sammiches. I love it a lot.

Wait. I was listing.

3. Writing: I’m thinking about it a lot. And I’m not doing it. I could be writing tonight, but I’m not. I’m stalled at a point where I need to block off some time to sit and read and sort what I’ve done over the last six months, and put it in some order, make notes, and decide where to go from there. Instead of doing that, I write one or two pages while I’m at work, and I pretend the body of work doesn’t exist on my weekend — preferring instead to veg out on the couch. I need to schedule the time, and STICK TO IT.

4. Speaking of being on the couch, I’ve ordered the first season of Project Runway from Netflix, because you all love it so much.

5. Knitting: Fast and furious. New object to show you by next week at the latest if all goes well. And at my new dog park, it’s clean enough that I can knit on the perpetual Sock in Progress. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t require cleanliness to work on a sock. They’re going on feet, after all. But the beach, oh, I couldn’t do it at the beach. I leave the beach coated in sticky damp sand, sand in my ears and in my pockets, sand down my shirt. The SIP lives in the car, so it’s usually full of sand anyway, but at least it’s not wet, sticky sand. There’s a difference, you know.

6. It is suddenly busy here at work. However, I’m only on phones tonight, and I’m sitting in what we call the mush-pot, which is far away from the other three people working. I’m hidden behind a half-cubicle wall, and I don’t have to participate in all the chatter if I don’t want to. I love that. I still do all the same work, I just don’t have to be as highly social. I love the mush-pot.

7. There was so much more rattling in my head. But now I feel better, thanks. Also, oh, yeah, I feel better. I slept all day, for possibly more than seven hours, if I’m doing the math right, and it’s all due to Lala. She got up early and took the poor wee dog to the vet, and then she worked from home and kept the other two dogs quiet all day. Lovely sleep. I plan on getting some more sleep today, too. I like sleep, as often as I can squeeze it into my busy schedule.

8. I need to exercise! I need to run! I have no time until Monday (literally, NO time, not even 15 minutes is unscheduled right now) but then I will run. And write. And budget.

    8b. Excuse me? There is too much to do. Just thought you should know. Again, HOW DO MOTHERS DO IT? Because I think y’all might just be crazy. That might explain it.

9. The End.

I don’t feel so good. I keep thinking it’s outta control allergies, but I’m at work tonight and I’m feeling all squoodgy and shaky, and I’ve been freezing for two days. I never have a chill, and on the few occasions that I do, I normally enjoy them, usually running too hot.

And this is a long week. This isn’t my normal night to work, but working tonight gets me an extra night off for the Europe trip. (YAY! Yay!) But that means five nights in a row, 12 hour shifts, 2 hours of commute time. Not much time at home, none to left over to wash dishes. Lala, reuse your glasses, okay?

The good news is that I found a new, wonderful dog park right close to the house — it’s only 10 minutes up the road in Castro Valley, as opposed to the beach, which is 30 minutes each way in traffic out on the other side of town. (Every afternoon before work, I take the dogs to the park — Clara needs to run with other dogs every. single. day. or she eats things. Like yarn. And magazines on Buddhism. (I hope she needed the dharma more than Lala.))

(This is for visitors searching for the Castro Valley Dog Park: Because it is so hidden that it took me over an HOUR to find the dog park near my house, and there exist no directions online to find it, and the address listed is not actually where you need to go,  here you go: exit at Center off 580, head north on Center (NOT as you would think, on Crow Canyon), and go right on Paradise Knolls, the parking lot is all the way at the end. You’re welcome. Enjoy.)

Lala took this at the beach — Clara goes FAST. And the little dog that was chasing her was one of the funniest, bossiest little dogs I’ve ever seen. They had a ball.

And the one-handed dog:

https://rachaelherron.com/i_dont_feel_so_/

Y’all are amazing. If anyone out there has problems with another person (as if), please scroll down to yesterday’s post and hit the comments. I have the best, smartest, nicest, sexiest readers in the land, and I can prove it. So there.

During a conversation with my mother today, I finally figured out how to describe a typical conversation with The Owner Who Drives Me Crazy. It goes something like this:

Me – "Please have some chocolate cake."

Him – "But I want some chocolate cake! You don’t understand, I really want chocolate cake. I want it so much. I wish you would listen to me. No matter what I do, I can’t get any cake. I wish I could have some cake. I really, really want chocolate cake."

Me – "Here’s some chocolate cake. How big a piece do you want?"

Him – "You don’t get it! I want chocolate cake! Can you even understand me? If you stopped trying to interrupt me — no! Don’t you interrupt me when I’m trying to tell you something that is imperative for all of us to understand. I want chocolate cake, and I’m going to do anything I can to get it. You should be aware that perhaps legal counsel is the best way to persuade you to give me chocolate cake. I wish you would just listen to me once in a while."

Me – "Hell, pass the cake to me, if he’s not going to eat it. And buddy, you can have some if you want some. I’ll put it in front of you"

Him – "No, I just wanted chocolate cake. That’s all. But never mind. I see how it’s always going to be."

But really, if you have that person in your life that makes you want to stick a fork in your eyeball just so you get some peace and quiet at the hospital, please go read those comments. Bless y’all and thanks.