There's too much on my to-do list. Not just today, not just this weekend, not just this coming week. There are too many things I need to do, too many things I should do, too many things I want to do--and there's just not enough time or even enough Barbara to do them all. So I nibble away at the list(s) as I can and spend (waste) time not doing any of them through the paralysis of "too much!" Do you get paralyzed when you're facing too many chores and shoulds? I sure do, so I'd like a clone, maybe two. The clones can do my work work -- housework, lawn & garden chores, that kind of stuff, and I'll personally tend to the fun work -- sewing, knitting, reading, writing, that sort of thing. I think that's an excellent plan. Now to find someone with an E-Z-Clone machine and get to work. Uh, play. Oh, you know what I mean.
Durwood and I spent most of yesterday surfing the web for lodging for our upcoming vacation, calling for info, and making reservations. I will say that the oil boom in North Dakota has sure impacted motel rates.
I glanced out the window yesterday and saw the last Dad's rose being eaten alive by Japanese Beetles. *sigh* They aren't as bad as in past years, at least that's what MW says, but seeing them gobbling up that pretty red flower makes me sad.
I worked on the Comfort Baby Blankie at Friday Night Knitting last night making the first color shift. It was hard to decide whether to add in the pale peach or the bright tangerine. I picked the peach thinking "bright, pale, bright, pale, bright" would be a good color spread. I like it, I guess. It'll be easier to judge when I've got a bit more done. The big needles (US13) made my hands tired fast so then I worked on the Oriole Wings Wrap. It was a fun night. We have a good time rehashing our week's adventures and helping each other with new things we're trying to learn. I think that's one of the things I like best about Friday Night Knitting, that one knitter helps another when things turn to crap. Even the newest knitter can help an old hand with something, even if it's just having a tool handy.
August 9--India, Cuirass. "Boys are all about shooting things and killing things," Tally said. "I'm not," her friend Antelope Jack said, "I don't know one end of a gun from the other and if I ever killed something I'd puke, I know I would." Tally sputtered on a laugh that she mostly swallowed. "Yeah, and you a Native American savage." AJ bumped his shoulder into hers. "Oh, right, me heap big Indian brave--that's never been out of the city." Tally looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "Maybe you come from a tribe of city Indians." "How would I know?" He flung his hands up. "I'm adopted. My family's all blond and Norwegian. I'm from the Nordic tribe, we don't go hunting, we buy our herring at Olson's deli."
Today's a housecleaning day. Ol' Cesspool (the monster Mom said lived behind the toilet) gets it, the floors'll get mopped, the rugs get vacuumed, and dust gets chased (Grandma Angermeier always went out to "chase weeds" so I figure I can chase dust). We've got the house opened up to the fresh air (last night's kohlrabi fumes hadn't left) so I'm ready to get a move on. I'll crack the whip and get Durwood moving too. It'll be fun. Bah.