I've opened a new post at least twice, then someone needed the computer and I let them bump me off. Fry, Hubs, one of them. The dress, classes, wrapping up some sewing UFOs, decluttering the sewing stuff, all kept me busy. I stopped by C&C (a mostly cross stitch store that carries some yarn) on Thursday, then went to Stitch Knitch yesterday in search of the elusive Regia 5033. I ended up ordering it from Stitch Knitch, since they're so nice. I've got everything I need for the girls in my family a Christmas gift.
Also, there's been no posts because I don't know how to say this. Every morning, I look out of the bathroom window to check on Herbie. Saturday, I noticed Herbie's food overturned. This didn't look good. I went to his coop, and all there was left was a bunch of feathers. When something has got a chicken, sometimes that's all that IS left. Not so in this case. I found Herbie under the river birch, where some cat had drug him. We forgot to tell him when a cat asks you over for dinner, say NO. Fry was pretty soggy all day, and still very sad the next. Everyone fussing over her Pilgrim dress lifted her spirits. She and her dad went on an outing Saturday afternoon while I taught class in Parkville, then, I dealt with the chicken.
Sometimes, women's lib bites. We're still not treated equally, and when all is said and done, we still have to do the grossest stuff around the house. Herbie stayed together very well as I wrapped him in the fleece and put him in a shoebox. Happily, Fry watches "My Name Is Earl", too, so when I explained away my giggles by saying "The episode where Randy finds Crackers," she understood. Here are the quotes I thought of every time I saw the shoebox.
Randy finds a shoebox buried in the garden
Randy: Hey look Earl, somebody buried a pair of shoes.
Earl: Randy, hold on!
Randy: Aah! It’s a cat’s skeleton! I should name him Crackers after our cat that used to sleep in the street.
Randy: (to Earl)Number 67, ran over crackers. What kind of crackers did you run over? Saltines? Did it make a crunchy sound?
It's not cool to giggle at a chicken's funeral. Fry was saying, "I'm going to miss him, his little face, his little beak," to which I thought, "his little drumstick, battered and baked."
Clearly, I'm a finalist in the "Most Insensitive Mother" contest. Poor baby, she was really distraught. I did refrain from fixing anything chicken for dinner. I'm looking forward to taking down the coop and storing it for the next chicken, she's wanting to turn it into a shrine. Um, no.
I want to thank everyone for the suggestions, they were good ones and will probably be used for the next chicken.
Oh! I did start the second lacy sock, second verse same as the first, and will post pictures once I get to the heel. That may take a while, since I'd rather hit a comfort level on the Christmas knits before working on my own things. Toppa, Fry, Hubs and I are all going to the SSK this Saturday. Some are lured by the food and coffee, others by the internet connection. I, of course, am there for the great company and sheer fun. :)