Have I mentioned I hate the COLD?
Today, I had to make a milk run. Or so I thought until I came home with the groceries and found the fridge was already hording 2 gallons. How I missed that I will never know. It is bitterly cold here, wind chills in the single digits most of the night, and well, ya'll know how I feel about being cold. So not only did I rush off to beat the end-of-the-workweek grocery rush, I did it in the cold which meant lugging groceries into the house in the cold.
Why am I whining about picking up a few groceries in the cold? Because as usual, when I pulled into the Aldi's lot, there was an old man parked in the fire lane waiting on his old lady. Excuse my nastiness here but this really, really pulls my chain. Fire lanes are marked "NO PARKING" for a reason, dipshit. They do not exist for your private, always reserved parking spot. They are not a drop off lane although I have no problem with that as LONG AS YOU MOVE YOUR FREAKING CAR. The lot was covered with ice and snow so don't get me wrong, the older woman shouldn't have to trudge through that but her husband should not be PARKED in the clearly marked fire lane.
Hubster's socks are moving along, slowly. Several try-on sessions have revealed they are a smidge too loose but I have hopefully taken care of that with some decreases. With his diabetes, I would rather have them be too loose in a spot or two than fit perfectly while I am knitting them only to discover his feet have swollen and they are too tight. He is anxious to have them finished. Men. They are like that, we all know.
For some reason, blogger does not send me email when comments are posted. I have changed my settings several times and it never seems to work. So, Kris, I am glad you enjoyed the pic. I have a hunch you will be seeing snow in the coming year. Maybe you should knit AG some mittens now before the cold numbs your fingers and sucks the joy out of it. ::giggle:: And Tanya, I have another Aussie friend who thinks snow at Christmas is cool. I will think of you especially this year as we celebrate a "White Christmas". Think of me while you sweat and bake, will ya?
I am still sorting through the treasures my father gave me. One envelope, marked in my late grandmother's beautiful penmanship, said "J---'s birth bracelet and cards". No bracelet found but I did find his baby ring, a gift from a local jeweler, a letter from someone (maybe my great-aunt?) wanting to compare birth stories and the hospital bill. Hand written on a printed form, one page, for the grand total of $59.15. For 4 days back in 1949. I am thinking about having it framed with one of my favorite pics of Dad as a baby just because I can. But perhaps the most amazing discovery in this treasure-trove of goodies from 1949 was the fact that my father weighed less than 7 pounds at birth. He's over 6' tall and I won't mention his weight. ALL of his grandchildren weighed more at birth than he did, as did my sister and I. Just blows me away because my father has always been a giant in my eyes. Until recently (the past 5 or 10 years), I could not picture him as a boy, imagine what he would have done for fun or things like that. He's always been just bigger than life to me, I guess.
I seem to be all over the map with this post. In a month or two, when I re-read entries, I am sure I will be wondering what was in the air while I was writing this. Note to self: the magic of Christmas as seen through my youngest's eyes. Santa is a REAL person to her and therefore holds all sorts of magical, mystical powers. The thoughts she conveys have more energy than expresso. She is electric, alive, filled with wonder and all over the map herself. I guess she is just rubbing off on her mama. No complaints...she won't believe too many more years so I intend to enjoy this.
Why am I whining about picking up a few groceries in the cold? Because as usual, when I pulled into the Aldi's lot, there was an old man parked in the fire lane waiting on his old lady. Excuse my nastiness here but this really, really pulls my chain. Fire lanes are marked "NO PARKING" for a reason, dipshit. They do not exist for your private, always reserved parking spot. They are not a drop off lane although I have no problem with that as LONG AS YOU MOVE YOUR FREAKING CAR. The lot was covered with ice and snow so don't get me wrong, the older woman shouldn't have to trudge through that but her husband should not be PARKED in the clearly marked fire lane.
Hubster's socks are moving along, slowly. Several try-on sessions have revealed they are a smidge too loose but I have hopefully taken care of that with some decreases. With his diabetes, I would rather have them be too loose in a spot or two than fit perfectly while I am knitting them only to discover his feet have swollen and they are too tight. He is anxious to have them finished. Men. They are like that, we all know.
For some reason, blogger does not send me email when comments are posted. I have changed my settings several times and it never seems to work. So, Kris, I am glad you enjoyed the pic. I have a hunch you will be seeing snow in the coming year. Maybe you should knit AG some mittens now before the cold numbs your fingers and sucks the joy out of it. ::giggle:: And Tanya, I have another Aussie friend who thinks snow at Christmas is cool. I will think of you especially this year as we celebrate a "White Christmas". Think of me while you sweat and bake, will ya?
I am still sorting through the treasures my father gave me. One envelope, marked in my late grandmother's beautiful penmanship, said "J---'s birth bracelet and cards". No bracelet found but I did find his baby ring, a gift from a local jeweler, a letter from someone (maybe my great-aunt?) wanting to compare birth stories and the hospital bill. Hand written on a printed form, one page, for the grand total of $59.15. For 4 days back in 1949. I am thinking about having it framed with one of my favorite pics of Dad as a baby just because I can. But perhaps the most amazing discovery in this treasure-trove of goodies from 1949 was the fact that my father weighed less than 7 pounds at birth. He's over 6' tall and I won't mention his weight. ALL of his grandchildren weighed more at birth than he did, as did my sister and I. Just blows me away because my father has always been a giant in my eyes. Until recently (the past 5 or 10 years), I could not picture him as a boy, imagine what he would have done for fun or things like that. He's always been just bigger than life to me, I guess.
I seem to be all over the map with this post. In a month or two, when I re-read entries, I am sure I will be wondering what was in the air while I was writing this. Note to self: the magic of Christmas as seen through my youngest's eyes. Santa is a REAL person to her and therefore holds all sorts of magical, mystical powers. The thoughts she conveys have more energy than expresso. She is electric, alive, filled with wonder and all over the map herself. I guess she is just rubbing off on her mama. No complaints...she won't believe too many more years so I intend to enjoy this.
posted by jill at 10:30 PM
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