So here I am, reading blogs, surfing yarn sites, minding my own business. All of a sudden Claude De Van Damme Cat barrels up the basement stairs and starts meowing like Timmy's fallen in the well. I look over and he has a clump of black chewed up something in his mouth. Of course I think, "Oh God, what now?" because it IS always something around here. He lets go to meow yet again and the fuzzy thing shoots off toward the stove. Yay. The little bugger is going to die there, I think, just in time for Christmas cookie cooking. "Oh no, that's not small hairs, it's spices. Really."
Not to fear, Claude recaught his prey, meowed yet again, and the mouse took off, again. This time, he was headed straight for me, fangs bared. I screamed like a girl, which startled Claude, and he lost sight of the mouse as it scampered along the kitchen island base. As long as the little guy recovers to be caught again, I'm fine. For his brave efforts, heck for the only effort the bum has ever made, he was given a generous portion of lunch meat. He's such a laid-back cat, Claude makes a fuss over the fridge door or tin can opening. When it's just us girls and him, he's laying around in the traffic pathways of home with a 'whatever' look on his face. But when Hubs comes in the door, all hell breaks loose because Claude knows he has Hubs conned. The C-man meows and loves on Hubs so much that he's compelled to feed him. Fry and I are made of sterner stuff.
Thus was the excitement part. The action is scheduled for late afternoon when we deliver papers. Fry and Dad, um, prepared the papers for delivery. ::snicker:: I missed out on the fun due to a scarf class. One of my students, and you can see her in the background of November 20th's entry, brought me this:
Every time I see the picture, I 'hear' my Mom say "Oh aren't you PRETTY?" I actually don't suck in this picture, unlike most of the others taken in the past 10 years. Family portraits are awful. Fry is stunning, Hubs looks miserable because he won't smile, and I look like something the cat coughed up as demonstrated by this morning's mouse incident.
Yes, I did make the sweater I'm wearing. It was supposed to be a man's sweater to sell in a craft fair, but Hubs claimed it for his own. Said it was 'advertizing'. Um hmmm. At any rate, it's comfy, if really big on me. In the picture, I'd just shown my student an increase in the front and back of the loop, and was currently knitting to the other increase in the thumb gusset. That's why the work isn't angled toward her and why she looks bored.
Now that my first and last name is visible, as is the city I reside... People could stalk me, I suppose, but they'd be very bored very quick. Hm, on the other hand, I could put the stalkers to work. Mowing, whacking weeds, changing the litter box. This has possibilities... After mulling it over, I'm not overtly posting Fry's first name due to pedophiles, nor am I posting Hub's first name because of his Army status. I want to be able to be anti-Bush without worrying about his military career. Even if I don't type up anything inflamatory, I want to be able to.
While I have yet to turn Fry's mitten right side out and resume work, as you can see, socks are good. I'm working the heel, just started. Can't wait until I'm done, then it's on to Fry's second sock.
Do we want to read about my NaNoWriMo progress and word count of zero. Nope. My motto for that is "Ignore it and hope it goes away."