Potpourri

My dad and my brother both came down with the influenza, apparently. However, because my mom is a ninja and reads the same interesting things that I do (because we have the same Facebook friends, in this case), they've all been taking elderberry, which, as you may recall, is a magic gypsy remedy against the flu and all other diseases ever. As a result, my brother's already back in school and my dad was only really sick for a couple of days and is now just dealing with hoarseness and sinus congestion but not actual flu flu.

I am buying elderberry extract immediately. For serious. Apparently it tastes delicious, which is how you know it has to be magic, because since when does medicine taste good? Since gypsies invented it, that's since when.

Yesterday, I bought a sweater at Target. It was $20 on sale for $15 and tomorrow, after I get paid, I am going back to Target and buying the four other colors that they had, because it is a delicious and cozy sweater, and I'm a sweater addict.

One of my goals this year is to knit a sweater. I'm starting out slow with the knitting projects, though. For instance, in August and early September I knitted one (1) fingerless glove. That was to practice cabling, which you should look up on our good friend google. I didn't make a second glove, but I meant to. Now I am knitting two (2) socks.. that is to say, I'm working on a sock and hopefully will not be so bored with it by the time it's done that I refuse to start the second. Inertia is strong in knitting.

But next, oh, next I will attempt to knit a sweater. I feel like there is some degree to which one is not actually a knitter per se until something of that magnitude has blossomed forth from the needles.

Once again, I am delaying my leave for work until the very last possible moment, which means snuggling in bed with the computer and my husband under our heavy pile of blankets. The house is freezing, because we still haven't figured out how the heat works. When I woke up this morning, my teeth started chattering as soon as I made my exit from beneath the aforementioned blanket pile.

It isn't that I don't like my job, and I love making money, but it's so cold and 7:15 is so early in the morning to get up and 9 hours is a long day and you can insert more whining here. It gets repetitive after a while, I know.

I will bottle it all up inside of me for the rest of the day, and nobody will know. Except for you.

My husband is not awake for over-coffee conversation, so a blog is in order

Once again, I am freezing and Dave is bundled up under three piles of blankets to continue sleeping until he chooses not to continue anymore, at which point he will get up. I'm snuggling in bed with him and the laptop for 15 more minutes, and then it's time to go to work. It was 40 degrees last night--Is it seriously time to break out the winter coat already? At 8:15 in the morning, it is 45 degrees outside, with a projected high of 65 for the day. Tomorrow, I am told, it will be 59 and raining. 59, I tell you! What am I supposed to make of that?

I have tomorrow off, which makes today Friday, in a metaphysical sense, and I am blissfully happy about it. Long weekends are the best, even if only working 24 hours in a week means getting paid much less than usual. I will cope, for the sake of an extra day of sleep to gird up my circadian loins before working 45 hours a week all through October.

Sock number 1 is about 50% done. I'm nearly finished turning the heel, and then it's just basic knitting until the sock is long enough to fit Dave's foot. The problem with socks, of course, being that once you get one done, you get to bask in your sense of accomplishment for like five minutes before you have to cast on and start the whole thing over again, and without the sense of curiosity and adventure that came with a new sock pattern the first time you knitted it.

I have decided that, at least as far as the Internet goes, people do not use outmoded exclamations often enough, by gum! I won't commit myself so far as to say that I will make an actual effort to use them (more) often, but if it occurs to me--if the spirit moves, so to speak--I will not resist.

After work, I will take some pictures of the cats, and of my jelly, and perhaps of the sock, and then there will not only be blog entries, there will be blog entries with pictures. By Jove.

Wedding Weather

I admit that sometimes I can be weird. For instance, I will sometimes sit and watch the Weather Channel. All day. I just find it interesting, I guess, and I like to look at the maps and forecasts and think about all my many, scattered friends and what the weather is like in all the different places where they are. And then later I know and I mention it and they wonder if I've been stalking them. I haven't. I just like the weather channel.

A few days ago, I realized that I could actually go to weather.com and look up the 10-day forecast for the weather and actually see the forecast for my wedding day. Cue girly squealing and minor Impending Wedding Day freakout.

Then I actually checked.

Three days ago, the prediction was for 82 degrees and scattered thunderstorms with a fairly high chance of precipitation.

I was relatively (relatively) sanguine about this, though. After all, I told myself, in my secret heart of hearts I was expecting the probability of rain. It's Western Pennsylvainia. It's June. Of course it will probably rain. I knew that. And 82 degrees? Well, I mean, that's warmer than I wanted, of course. The same part of my heart that secretly admitted and planned for the possibility of rain also secretly hoped that the temperature would be at least in the 70's.

After all, Dave gets very, very cranky when it's hot, and he's wearing tweed on the wedding day, which is not exactly the coolest and lightest of materials.

But, weather can't be helped. I decided to just be peaceful about it and hope for the best.

And check weather.com obsessively, and pray for better weather, and ask other people to pray for better weather (specifically mid-70's during the day and not rainy, at least not until after the photos). After all, on my mom's wedding day it was raining in every single major city in Europe, except the one where she got married.

The next day, I checked. 81 degrees. Scattered thunderstorms. Sigh.

The next day, 80 degrees. Scattered thunderstorms. Oh well.

Today? A mere 77 degrees! And isolated thunderstorms! The chance of precipitation is down to only 30%!

I'm going to keep checking, and I'm going to keep praying. In my little wedding-day dreams it goes down to between 72-75, it will be a little overcast--not direct sun, but not gloomy--and there will be a breeze that will smell like rain. Late in the evening, when Dave and I are ready to get in the car, there might be some distant lightning and thunder, but the rain won't actually hit while we're driving, because he doesn't like driving in the rain at night. However, immediately after we get home, a thunderstorm will start, and we'll spend our first night at home listening to thunder, looking at lightning, and falling asleep to the sound of heavy rain on the bedroom windows, because that's one of the best sounds in the world.

One of the best... right after the sound of Dave's voice.

Shut up, I know it's sappy.