Rachael

Howdy there, my friends. It’s late, and I’m bleary-eyed, so this’ll be quick, but I have a favor to ask. Where does one buy nice cashmere roving? Copper Moose? I only need a little bit for socks for a friend who’s paying for the roving if I spin it up for her, and I’m DYING to get my little paws on cashmere in the raw, but I just don’t know where to look first.

Me? All I’m knitting recently is socks. Lots of socks. They’re good work projects — small enough to work on when I’m in training (I can still look at the study papers, and never down at my hands), so no one tells me not to (thank GOD), and I’m just doing miles of stocking stitch. Miles of it. Maybe someday I’ll make a patterned sock, but it hasn’t happened yet. The other day a coworker turned around and said, "You, you, you’re such a SOCK-KNITTER!" Said as an epithet, it’s mighty funny.

Still behind in email. Forgive me.

(sleepy) MWAH!

I’m not sure if I can get behind the knitted boot recently featured on Knitty Gritty. I completely applaud the designer for her daring, and I think it’s totally clever. Cute, even. But I could never wear them. And neither could you, probably. If you’re NOT a knitter, you might get away with it. You know? Fashion-forward, cutting edge. But a Knitter wearing them? Every friend and family member would know that you’d finally gone right around the bend, and you’d never live it down. It’s only a small step from that to making knitted chaps, and that’s just not okay.

Went for a walk in the rain today on my way to getting my hair done (the hairdresser confirmed my suspicion that I am almost sixty percent gray-haired at the age of thirty-three), and saw this little person:

Doesn’t she make you want to play in the rain? Or at least get a yellow slicker? Do they make grownup yellow slickers? ‘Cause that’s the cutest thing ever.

Well, since I’ve shown you the cutest thing ever, I’ll show you the toughest thing ever, too:

Five and a half pounds of pirate terror, man. Be afraid, be very afraid.

How flippin’ exciting is THIS? I mean, really. Go see Lala for the proof of what this album will do for you, but I’ve lost weight. That’s all I know. Makin’ no promises here, people, but there’ve been rumors that the pesky leprosy you’ve been worried about? It might help. Just a rumor.

Seriously. It’s great. Get it.

I’m all packed up to go to work:

Dayquil, check. (how does spellcheck recognize Nyquil and not Dayquil?)
Tissues with lotion, check.
Throat lozenges, check.
Tylenol, check.
Ginger tea and cold-care tea, check.

Bleargh.

BUT. I’m
now finally answering phones at work, having finally gotten the
requisite certs from the state, and I almost had my first baby last
night! Emergency medical dispatch is so different from all the cop
dispatching I’ve done, and so crazy-scary. I haven’t given unsuccessful
CPR yet, but I’m sure that’ll happen this week. Happens all the time.
But a baby! They award "storks" for births facilitated by dispatchers,
and I desperately want one. This lady last night, she was SO close,
pushing hard and steady, and she kept talking to me. I think I actually
did a little tiny bit of good calming her down (although a coworker
passed me a note that said "breathe." So I told her to breathe. He
points at me, no, you breathe!). Darn firefighters got there
just in time to pull the baby out, a little girl named Christine. So I
didn’t get to hear her first lungful of air, but I can’t wait until I
do get to hear that on the phone (I heard a coworker’s baby last week
— so little! I thought the caller had given birth to a mad cat!)

All right. Off to work. At least I can’t give my cold to the callers.

https://rachaelherron.com/im_all_packed_u/

Which is a word, you know. About a million years ago, I think I typo-ed it to Lala, and now we actually say it. "Bleee-hah." Bleha. Worse than bleah.

Don’t feel well — I’d been fighting a turned ankle and a sore neck and a chipped tooth followed by novocaine ache, and now I’ve got a terribly sore throat with cold symptoms thrown in for fun. First noticed it when I got Bounced this morning at Mom’s house by two sisters eager to wake me up to go shopping. Usually I shout and bounce back at them, at least roar some rage, but this morning I just felt like weeping into my pillow while I rummaged underneath me for the earplugs I’d ripped out in sleepy terror.

But we did have a very nice turkey day — Mom and the sisters made an amazing meal, as usual. As usual, I’d had little to no sleep and ended up napping, which was for the best, since I’m never useful in the kitchen until the dishes are ready (although I managed to slice up my thumb while doing them this year — it’s been a rough couple of days).

Mom and Cromarty:

Due to my desire to get home before I totally got sick and to my own poor planning, I ended up renting a car this afternoon to come back to the bay area, not something that’s usually that much fun.

But dude, when they give you the Mustang convertible for no extra, because they’re out of the economy cars, you get home QUICK. I mean, of course I’d never speed. You know that. Of course not.

Also, this was taken while standing still. Sure it was.

As was this:

And this was how it felt to drive a Mustang:

It did not, however, detract from my Mini Cooper lust, which will not be fulfilled for a while, much as I would like it to be. Wonder if you can rent one?

Now, to the couch to Be Sick for a little while. Just made some veggies and I’m also breaking out the brie, because it will help. This I know.

So sleepy, got off work this morning, slept for two hours, made noises like a dying fish when the alarm clock went off at 10:15am, and got myself to the dentist for emergency re-filling. (I heart my dentist. I’m phobic, didn’t go for ten years, but Bruce got me back into dental health. Plus, he always has all the latest gadgets, computerized teeth imaging, DVD-on-demand, today it was a new little camera on a toothbrush-looking thing, which took an instant image that they showed me on a screen in front of my chest — look, we’re going to fix this here and here, and OH MY GOD, no, I guess that’s okay, we’ll leave that alone.)

So little-to-no sleep. This to say: I am woefully remiss in emails — there are about twenty in my inbox of the Reply variety. You know the kind. There are emails that you can dash out and clear from your inbox in about thirty-two seconds, and then there are those lovely ones that you want to take your time with…. I’ve had no time. Slap-dashing this post together is all I’ve got today. If I owe you an email, please know it’ll be coming. Soon. Ish.

Tonight I’ll be seeing my girl, for the second time in almost a month, literally, and tomorrow I’ll be headed south for turkey. Hope yours is nice, loving, and yarnful.