In case you’ve been wondering how I’ve been spending my time, let me report that Simons’ sweater, the one I’ve been knitting since Christmas, is at the finisher's getting its zipper put in. After all that work, I wasn’t about to screw it up by sewing it. All in all, this sweater will have taken two and a half months (three and a half counting the wait for the yarn to come from Uruguay) and about $200. I could have purchased him the same sweater made from the chin hairs of infant Ibex goats for the same price and he would have had it immediately. He wouldn’t have had to see me rip it out and reknit it at least four times and curse and cry and screech and rip, rip, rip, redo. God, I hope the damned thing fits.
We also took a trip down to Big Sur for the President’s Day weekend.
It was awesome. And I mean that in the Victorian sense of the word, because every time we turned a corner, our jaws dropped and Simons nearly swerved off the highway. There were so many tiny coves, smashed with spectacular blue waves and foam and insane rock formations, all very violent and dramatic.
I was terrified that Sim would try to surf something just on the principle of being there, but he did not. Instead, we found a bakery with croissants the size of your head, and we hiked in Los Padres National Forest, which allows dogs. So Beulah charged about on the trail and greeted everyone and swam underwater in extremely cold mountain streams with just her little wagging bottom poking out, because she is a crazy dog. We are determined to go back and spend three or four days backpacking there, so we can make it to the Sykes hot springs. At a ten mile hike, it was far too long to do in one day, and we’ve been looking for a place where we can bring Dog and spend a few days in the backcountry. The redwoods are unbelievable, and what better way to end a hard day of hiking with a soak in a secluded hot spring?
It’s a good thing the weekend was so lovely, because yesterday was a craptacular waste of time. I finished my work, wrangled with clients WHO DON’T READ THE WORK I SEND IN AND THEN ASK ME 45 QUESTIONS ABOUT IT THAT WOULD BE SELF EXPLANATORY HAD THEY BOTHERED. Said clients might also go back in their email messages and see where I requested photo specs WEEKS AGO, so how could it possibly be an emergency NOW?
Ahem, excuse me…
And then I stocked the house with food, baked muffins, cooked, stirred and chopped AND did eight loads of laundry. Eight, people. And when my husband came home from work, did he remark in the nicely folded mountain of boxers on the bed? No. Did he dance around at the scent of banana peanut butter muffins permeating our sparkly clean apartment? No he did not. Did he exclaim over the food I’d made him for him to take for lunch today, or over the penne with chicken, mushrooms and asparagus in lemon cream sauce I made for dinner? The answer is NO. NO! NO! and NO!
In other unpleasant news, I am growing horns. On my face. In the manner of an unattractive adolescent rhinoceros. Or maybe it is a second- third- and fourth-head sprouting, since I am so smart that my primary brain cannot contain my brilliance and requires backup for mundane matters…such as PARKING. Have any of you people ever gotten a $500 parking ticket? Does that seem somewhat unconscionable to you? Does anyone have any experience with persuading the California DMV to at least halve the fine? Who do I sign the firstborn child over to?
And for anyone who is already calling the SPCA on my landlord, go ahead and call it on me. Beulah has been spanked and tied to the back door this morning for stealing banana peanut butter muffins FROM THE KITCHEN TABLE, and later scolded and threatened about a jillion times with eternal bucketdom for feasting on her tasty ear medicine. God, I swear that stuff must taste like cream cheese frosting to her, because the second I put it in, she’s got half her hind leg rammed down there. Grooooooss! Anyway, this table thievery has to stop, since it’s giving her rotten indigestion. After she stole a bunch of lamb from the table during the 8th Annual I Hate Valentine’s Day Dinner Party Extravaganza, she had ED for three days. Now that is not cool.
I really need to get out more.