Rows to go: 0
Last night, thanks to The Apprentice
, a little Deal or No Deal
(which, incidentally, there's no way I'd watch if it weren't on before The Apprentice
, and if I weren't worried that I'd get to into the shawl and forget to change the channel), and some random MTV programming, I finally finished the last rows of the shawl. I started the bind-off, but I realized, with all the k2tog tbl's, that it was going to take a while. Eventually, I gave up and went to bed. But I'm almost there. Tonight's movie night, but I should have it ready to block tomorrow.
Yesterday was Monday again -- time to knit with the girlies. Miss AL was the first to arrive, and she hung out in her usual corner, re-starting her cell phone case. We were stunned that Miss S wasn't there -- and we both admitted that it was pretty strange without her. Miss AL, however, admitted that the quiet was both a good thing and a bad thing. It was weird, but it was okay -- and it also meant that she could eat all the candy she wanted, and I wasn't going to stop her, since she can hold her sugar well. It was after 5 when Miss H arrived in a flurry of explanations. She'd had a bad day, so she went to Target for some retail therapy. Then, as it turned out, she spent all of her money and didn't have any left over for Starbuck's. She was THIRSTY! So thirsty, in fact, that she was considering returning a shirt she'd bought to get the money for a drink. I offered her my water, but that wasn't good enough. In the end, after all the Target-talk and the obsessing over thirst, Miss H managed to knit up a row on her scarf before it was time to go. And I managed to rip out the bottom of my baby sweater and re-knit a couple of inches. I have no idea how tall small children are, so I really have no clue where to end it. Paul suggested knitting until I'm almost out of yarn -- and then adding feet. He's brilliant, my husband.
Next week, the store is closed -- and I'll be gone -- so I won't get to see the kids. After that, though, I'm thinking that it might be fun to take the chairs and knit outside. Hopefully the weather will cooperate.
In other news, (WARNING: SERIOUS RANT AHEAD) the feuds continue in our neighborhood. This time, though, it doesn't even involve the Noisy Neighbor with the Hearse (though they've decorated for summer now, and they got a plethora of new lawn ornaments -- all of which are pigs). The latest feud involves the people across the street -- or, more accurately, their unruly children. The people across the street have two kids -- a boy and a girl -- but, as it turns out, the entire neighborhood hangs out in their yard, right in front of my office window. Every day, I see the school bus come by to drop them off, and it makes me shudder. But they're kids, and there's nothing you can do about the constant squealing.
Recently, however, the children have taken to playing tag. To do so, they run screaming around the neighborhood, often racing past my window into our backyard -- or running through our flowerbeds, standing on our front steps, and screaming. Paul thought it was just over-reacting until he found the footprints that had torn up the grass he'd just planted. Not only that, but while we were outside on Saturday (which meant that they stayed out of our backyard), a few of them went running through NNwtH's yard and shattered some of their little ceramic thingies. After our other neighbor (who, fortunately, is perfectly normal) told us over dinner the other night that they often run out right in front of her car, Paul decided to talk to The Dad (who, incidentally, is the same guy who walked up to Paul a couple of weeks ago while he was watering the grass seed and asked, "SOOOO...how come your wife
[the one who, incidentally, was inside doing the laundry] is never out here helping you?" What the heck am I supposed to do, hold the hand while he waters the grass?).
Basically, The Dad said he talked to his kids (and to his wife, who's home during the day), but there's really nothing he can do about them being loud. That's fine, as long as they're not loud while running through our flowerbeds or standing on my front steps -- but he didn't let me explain that. Instead, he told us, "Well, maybe someday you'll
have kids, and you'll
see that you try to tell them things, but they never listen." He also pointed out that the people who used to live here loved
Well, excuse me, Mr. Smug Neighbor, but I was once a kid, and there's no way I would have gone running through my neighbors' yards. In fact, I happen to recall that I never once even set foot in our next-door neighbors' yard -- though I played with their daughter just about every day. They did a ton of gardening, though, and we knew we'd get in trouble if we messed anything up, so we just played in my yard (which was more fun anyway, since we had a tire swing). But I guess we must have just been strange little kids -- because normal kids, apparently, never listen. I guess moms these days don't have wooden spoons to threaten their children with...
Boy, am I looking forward to summer vacation...