Rachael

And on different a topic, does anyone understand dirty Scottish humor? I mean, I’m half-Kiwi, so I understand sheep jokes. I love sheep jokes. But this one is beyond the reach of my funnybone. The indomitable MaryB in Richmond sent me a card that neither of us get. If it’s VERY dirty, I apologize.

    "Why eye ba ba black sheep,
    Who did this to you?"

    "Shearer."

Apparently it was with all the other dirty cards, so it must be good and bad. Anyone?

And this, from my final birthday hurrah on Tuesday:

All full of Indian food and happy.

Have a good, safe, peaceful weekend, all y’all.

Couldn’t and didn’t blog yesterday. It’s just too much, too sad. And I don’t know about you, but as an American I feel directly responsible in a small way. Even though I voted against him, even though I stand for everything he is trying to pull apart, I still live in this country and am counted as a citizen and pay his salary. America’s actions in the past three years have guaranteed that this kind of atrocity will continue to happen. Just a question of when and where, and that’s a hard thing to comprehend.

Aargh. It’s too difficult to write about, and what do my small words mean, anyway? I meant to give you something light and upbeat today, the day after, something bright and hopeful. But I’m having a hard time thinking of anything that’s not rather bleak.

So it’s time to pull out the big guns. Isn’t that what Americans do, after all?

Mom’s homespun Cormo socks:

And these, from the last time I was home:

Doesn’t the angle make them look small? Or is it that my little wheel is so big in these photos? Whatever, they do my heart good.

Love someone hard today. Okay?

* I have closed comments on this post, since I saw them going in the direction of heated argument. While that may be amusing on another day, I don’t feel like arguing today. Peace, all. Now, go knit. Mwah.

https://rachaelherron.com/couldnt_and_did/

Is today. And I’m exHOSSted. I’ve been partying for days, and seriously, I’m all tuckered out. Diamonds on the soles of my shoes and all that. Let me recap:

Friday: The Whoreshoes played in Bolinas. We drove up in Lala’s car, and little Miss Idaho had had another unfortunately timed butt problem (we won’t discuss it — it’s gross, but it’s okay per the vet, and just takes time to heal). But I can tell you authoritatively that nothing makes you giggle more in a car than having a diapered five-pound dog on your lap.

We had a room at the old saloon, Smileys,
and we got into town early enough to walk to the beach and back, and
there was time to sit up on the old saloon’s porch while I knitted and the girls
made their set list.

    Don’t Joni and Camilla look like rockstars?

    Harriet keeps an eye on the townsfolk.

    And Miss Idaho recovers.

The show was so much fun — there was much dancing and a lot of knitting at the bar, too. I got half a sock done between carousing on the dance floor. It’s a small town, with all the reg’lars you’d find anywhere else, plus a special bunch of purely Bolinas people, people born and raised on the beach, in the water, eating organically and smoking the same way. The owner of the cafe opened up just for us after the show was over and made root beer floats and quesadillas for everyone, band and entourage, which at that point was about fifteen strong. I never knew a quesadilla could taste that good.

Crashed late that night, and overslept my surf-call, which was Camilla yelling from the front porch, which was okay, because it was overcast and foggy and cold and I didn’t feel like learning to surf half-hungover. So we went to the beach and sat and watched, and I have to admit that by the end of the day I rather regretted not learning — the waves were so low and mild that you could walk out to the break. I think it would be easier to learn in stand-able water. But another time. I did have a great time sitting on the blanket with friends, knitting on the Lara sweater, hugging on the Lala person.

    For warmth, you know.

    There were other knitters among us.

    With the Scary 4th of July Bear

So we got up and brushed off and walked back into town, meaning to head right for Dharma Trading to look at fiber dyeing supplies, but we ran into Steve and Alena who had been busking, but the busking turned into jamming.

   

    Note the wee dog.

So we got to Dharma Trading a little late that day….

The next day, Sunday, was my partay. I had invited everyone I liked that I could remember, and if you weren’t invited, I just forgot, that’s all, no ill intent. I thought a few people would show up for dinner, but dude. Twenty people showed! We had the whole back side of Chachacha, and part of the bar.

But all this skin is part of my party, so I was happpppy. (Note how hot Lala looks in her blue suit, talking to Camilla…..) I made a rule that everyone had to dress UP (since, really, when do you get to really dress up anymore besides company Christmas parties, and those blow, we all know), and everyone did. I was thrilled. Everyone looked like a million fucking bucks. It was a beautiful thing.

Then there was dancing and seriously expensive drinks with umbrellas over at the Tonga Room, where the band is on a floating boat in the middle of a lagoon and there’s a thundershower every hour. Then we moved on to Encore Karaoke on California Street, where we had a BLAST. As someone said (bless me if I can remember who), "all your friends are good looking AND they can all sing!). Well, yeah. Of course. There was a great moment when Nathania was up, singing an Alannis Morrisette song, and our whole table turned around saying, "Is that really her? Really?" She’s fab. And Celia? Great voice AND she yodeled. Just for me. The entire bar went nutso. And she brought knitting:

    My gorgeous sis in the background.

    Oh, yeah.

We closed the bar down. Oy. So we got to bed REALLY late. The next morning, the 4th of July, we woke early after about four hours of sleep and drove up to the Russian River where we went canoeing!

Have you ever done that? Really? Why haven’t I? You get in the canoe, spend the next four-ish hours going down the river, stopping to eat and play in the water, and then you paddle some more. At the end, you get out and take the shuttle back up to your car. Totally worth the $30. Burke’s Canoes. I’m telling you. No photos, since I was convinced we would capsize and I didn’t want to risk my baby, little Treo, getting wet.

The best part of the canoeing was that I learned I’m a bigbig stud. Apparently knitting has given me more arm muscles than I thought, because whenever I paddled, I spun the canoe. I think Lala was a little irritated at first. But eventually we traded spots and I was in the back, steering more than paddling. Just floating down, leisurely. One of my new favorite things to do.

And then when we got home, fireworks! Seen from the Emeryville marina, no parking problems, just walked in and watched the Oakland, Emeryville and Berkeley fireworks. I heart fireworks. Majorly. I can’t even tell you how stupidly giddy they make me.

And today is the actual birthday, and I’m being lazy and not doing anything I don’t want to, so I’m going to spin and read and take a bath and later go out to dinner. It’s the most drawn-out, best birthday EVER. And Lala got me this:

Exactly, prezackly what I wanted, lusted for, and couldn’t justify buying. Oh, she’s good. And Mom sent me this:

which has patterns like this:

I’m so lucky. I know it, think about it, every single dern day. I do. And thanks for reading. Y’all are a great part of my birthday, too. Thirty-three! That’s three times my favorite number! Woooot!

Sister Bethany signs off her almost-two-year-long road trip. She’s finally put down roots. (Go tell her she can still blog when the mood takes her, and bloglines will notify us, because she should write more because she’s GOOD at it. But that’s just her older sister speaking. Proud of her.)

https://rachaelherron.com/sister_bethany_/

But I just can’t stop. I just found this article on how PETA is encouraging an anti-Australian-wool campaign, which made me raise my eyebrows in that "oh, yeah?" way, but then I read it, and it’s horrifying, and my very own Christina of Article Pract is listed as one of the few in the nation who are doing the right thing.

That’s rad.

Bathroom update: They say they fixed it. Let’s hope, shall we? It’s just weird how they can cut a hole in your ceiling, do things, then patch it back up. That doesn’t seem right, somehow. It’s like skin. It shouldn’t just be opened up like that.

He asked, "Do you have the right paint so I can cover up the patch?"

"Nope."

"Well, do you think the owner has the paint?"

"Pretty sure she doesn’t." Nine months later, still WOOT! Me! Owner! They’ll be back next week to paint the ceiling all one color. Along with the garbage disposal repair-guy. Don’t ask. It’s been a week.

And I’ve just been chugging along on Lara. I remember sitting in Cari’s living room, watching Iris work on hers. She said, "I have no idea how this works, but I’m hoping it will be a sweater when I’m done." And it was, so she is to be admired.

She’s so right. I have no idea what part I’m working on, since it’s done side-to-side, and it’s Debbie Bliss and she thinks that schematics are tools of the devil. (What is so freaking hard about adding a line drawing? I’m missing something.) I might be working on the back right now. Or a collar. Whatever. If you know, don’t tell me. I want it to be a surprise.

I’m using handspun, and I’ve had NO time to spin, so I’m about to run out of yarn. I’d really like time to spin.

But alas, this weekend promises to be a busy one — I’ve got five days off, and there’s a show in Bolinas tonight I want to catch, and I think I might try surfing tomorrow for the first time (although I’m legendary for chickening out and sitting on the beach knitting instead), and then Sunday there’s a little party I might attend, and Monday I’m going canoeing on the Russian River, and Tuesday is a birthday kind of day. I might spin then. Wait, I see spinning time on Sunday, too. Yay. That means banjo/dobro/lap steel/computer video games time for Lala, so I’m sure she’ll be happy to hear about me scheduling spinning time. I actually told sister Christy yesterday that I was going to just sit and spin. She laughed at me, as was right.

So. Have a good, busy, fun weekend, and just tell me, who’s a sweet wee dog?