Much cuteness going on here–some of it is teeth grinding, but some of it really is just damned cute:
Last night, I made a big bowl of avocado guacamole, and Squish climbed up on my lap, wanting to know what it was.
“Guacamole,” I replied, and Squish looked at it skeptically.
“I want some. But I only want the guac. I don’t want the molee.”
All right then– all of the guac and none of the molee.
Dad took Zoomboy on a ‘homemade field trip’ to San Francisco and a King’s Game on Friday. Dad had a ‘quarterly’– a work sanctioned get-together, and Zoomboy had a minimum day, so, in order for Zoomboy to NOT be left at school for two hours (don’t ask. Damned San Juan website) Mate simply checked him out of school and took him on a boy’s day out. They had a great time–when I asked Mate for cute Zoomboy stories, Mate said, “Did I tell you about him quoting Star Wars in the car?”
Apparently, Zoomboy sat with a couple of McDonald’s Happy Meal toys on his lap, saying, “You killed my father! NO, I AM your father… NOOOOOOOOO…” Dad and I were so proud.
At present, Zoomboy’s big thing is drawing “I Love Mom” on all available surfaces– a dew covered car-window, the butter section of the refrigerator, the sandbox at the park–and then making me close my eyes and look (surprised, of course!) at his handiwork. He often drags me with closed eyes through the house and out the door, trying not to trip on thresholds or the various shit on the floor. I don’t have a punchline for this story, but I figured I’d better tell it on the blog so I could remember it someday when I really really wanted to throttle him. He’s a high strung poodle of a boy, and I need to keep the ‘I love mom’s’ firmly entrenched in my mind.
Big T got back from a school trip to Ashland, Oregon (where the Shakespeare festival is held) all excited. He saw Pride & Prejudice, Hamlet, and Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. He also bought a T-shirt with Shakespeare on it that says ‘Bard’ on the bottom. Bard is his middle name–he feels it’s a sign that he really WILL be a famous screenplay writer. And I say, why not?
And as for Chicken? Chicken will be laughing at me forever and a day. Why? Because I once again forgot how old she is. Apparently the difference between fourteen and fifteen is a chasm wide as the sea, and the thought it was hilarious as I once again, fell in it.
And me? I am currently knitting a cart load of socks, and a hat. The hat is for a student. Of all the requests–most of them careless and oblivious to the time and expense of knitting someone a gift–this was, perhaps the sweetest.
“Are you working on anything right now? I mean, do you have a long list of projects? I know you’re busy.”
“Some socks and a sweater for Zoomboy, why?”
Her face fell. “You know those hats you made student A & B? I *really* loved those… they were soooo pretty.”
*sigh* “Yeah, hon–I can make you one of those. NO worries.”
*brightens* “Really? That would be awesome. Thank you so much, Ms. Lane–that’s really nice of you.”
Okay– for the record? Is anybody listening? THAT’S how it’s done. The next person who walks up to me and says, “Hey, I’ll pay you five bucks if you make me some socks!” is going to be choking on a pair of size 1 circs for a year.
And speaking of knitting, here is a story only knitters will get.
I bought two experimental skeins of sock yarn. This particular brand is… well, let’s just say that the brand name is sort of a hallmark among knitters for cheap yarn. Low rent yarn. Yarn without class. But the colors weren’t bad (weren’t Regia, which I love with all my, uhm, beating organ, but weren’t bad) and so I found myself working on a sock for Squish in this yarn.
And this is what I was working on when a small horse rounded the corner at the vet’s, where we were waiting for Chicken to emerge with her psycho cat, who was getting his oozing skin sore looked at. Anyway, the small horse (okay, it was a mastiff… but it was really a small horse with pointy teeth, trust me) came out, all excited about people, walked right up to me and snuffled under my arm. She was pretty sweet, and her owner was promising that she was harmless, so I pet her wiggling little horse-face, and that’s when she made her move.
She killed my sock yarn. Took the whole thing in her mouth, her mortified owner looking at me in horror. Not only had his dog possibly destroyed someone’s property, but it was clear the guy had NO IDEA what in the FUCK the dog had actually tried to eat like a helpless baby bunny.
The yarn was useable by the time it was pried from the heaving monster’s maw, but there was no doubt it was dead. Seems there were two neat puncture marks through the label–right through the red, beating heart.
(Ignore that chortling sound… that’s me… I love me a good pun… but it’s true… the dog took to that Red Heart sockyarn like it was a fuzzy bunny, ready to be eaten… *snicker* Red Heart, get it? Stop shaking your heads in the back… it’s TRUE! I SWEAR! I even showed my LYS owner the label on the yarn as proof. She was highly relieved to know the yarn actually cost the same as Regia–and the colors weren’t as cool. i could see a little bit of merchant’s panic creeping in before I reassured her and she could laugh her ass off with me about the teethmarks through the label.)