Light Blogging

I won't be blogging much for the next few days in order to give bruised finger time to heal.
I can, however, still bring you the



and the dishcloth rows.

Yes, I know you are all wondering what in the world I did to myself. Well, I was tightening a retaining screw at work and the wrench slipped. The handle of the wrench came down squarely on my finger, smashing it against the steel frame of the machine. It was enough to make me curse--almost out loud.

I'll probably be sitting out karate tomorrow, too, as any sudden motion or jars sends bolts of pain shooting halfway up my arm.

Can't even take an ibuprofen for it...

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Lesson For Today

Don't try to knit lace while watching the Super Bowl. Trust me on this one...
Yes, much of today was spent in anticipation of and watching the Super Bowl, Cody being a big Indy fan. Even our pastor, who knows Archie Manning personally, moved the evening preaching service up to 4:00 PM so he could get home in time to watch it. In fact, being that Mr. Manning is native Mississippian, and he and Eli both attended Ole Miss, most folks around here are Colts fans.

We made some snacks and went over to B and J's for the game. J is a Chicago fan, and got really excited when Devin Hester of the Bears ran back the opening kickoff for a touchdown, and again as Grossman and Muhammed connected to give Chicago a 14-6 lead in the first quarter. However, since Chicago would never be in front again, his enthusiasm waned and he got downright ugly at times. Between his attitude and the heat in their home, I needed to get out of there. Since B is much more cold natured that I am, they had their heater set to "roast" and about halftime I began to swell up. I stood it as long as I could, then came home early in the third quarter and watched the rest of the game in the comfort of my own home.
This is when I tried to knit the lace. Not such a good idea. I finally just ripped it back to my lifeline and set it aside for the evening. Then I sat with idle hands and watched the Colts win their first Super Bowl title since Johnny Unitas was quarterback. It was 1971, and the Colts were still in Baltimore, and they defeated the Dallas Cowboys in Super Bowl IV. Since I am a lifelong Cowboys fan, we don't talk too much about that one.



The Pro Bowl is next Saturday, which is usually pretty boring since nothing is at stake. Then we count the days until next season.


The dishcloth is coming right along, and the pattern is showing just what I predicted. I finally delivered the prayer shawl for my friend who's mother passed right before Christmas. I got it all ready to take, then walked right out of the house without it. I initially thought I'd wait until next week, but by the time I got to the end of my road, I felt really strongly that I should go back and get it. I did, and when I got to the church, I discovered that my friend's Sunday School class had placed flowers in the sanctuary in memory of my friend's mother. It all just seemed to fit.

My Peculiar Aristocratic Title is: Milady the Right Reverend Becky the Decent of Praze-an-Beeble Get your Peculiar Aristocratic Title

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Singing Saturday

I can't sing. I've always enjoyed singing, but God in his wisdom did not see fit to bless me with talent in that area. But still, I'll sing around the house, and sometimes at work. I figure everyone at work has earplugs in anyway, so they're safe.

Not long ago, Cody told me to stop trying. I was quite taken aback, because he'd always been the one to encourage and support me.

"That's when I thought you were just pretending you couldn't sing."

Moving right along...

I've got one more thing to cross off my WIP list:

Yes, they are fraternal, but after having to frog most of the first sock due to running out of yarn, I didn't dare try to match the stripes. It's a good thing, too, or I wouldn't have had enough yarn to finish.

So, after removing the monthly dishcloths from my WIP list, and making a separate entry for each pair of socks, my revised list looks like this:

1. Prayer Shawl
2. Irish Hiking Scarf
3. Wavy Lace Shawl
4. Red Heart Strata Scarf
5. Branching Out Lace Scarf
6. Texas Longhorn Scarf
7. First Time Socks
8. Socks using Magic Loop
9. Socks on DPNs using Knit Picks yarn
10. Socks made from Red Heart Strata (I lost the ball band and forgot the name of the color.)

Notice that I did cast on another pair of socks in the #10 space. The yarn got so vocal that I couldn't tune it out any more.

I also did a crazy thing. I felted my wool socks. I did it on purpose because I wanted to see what they would turn out like. Besides, socks that are hand wash only aren't very practical for everyday use--at least not in my mind. But didn't they turn out cute?

Here is one next to a sock that still fits my foot, to show perspective.

They fuzzed and pilled quite a bit, but they already had a good start at that just from being used. I'm thinking about ordering one of those sweater stones that is supposed to remove pilling from knitted items.

And here are today's dishcloth rows:

It's been cold all day today. A perfect day to stay inside and knit, only I didn't do that...I decided it was time to flush and refill my radiator. I'd asked J to help me--which means he does the work and I stand there feeling useless. And cold. And guilty that I'm not helping more. But he had his oldest grandson Steve out there helping, so there really wasn't much I could do. I just feel like it's my vehicle, I need to be doing the work.

The way they make these engines these days, you almost have to take them back to the dealership to get even a simple thing like a radiator flush and fill done. I think they make them that way on purpose, so you have to keep paying them money. J had to take the whole engine apart just to get to the drain plug. Ok, well not really. It just seemed that way. I told him that if I'd known it would be so much trouble, I'd have just taken it into a shop. But we got it done, and now my Jimmy has a happy radiator.

That and three loads of laundry was the extent of my productivity today.

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And a Little Bit of That

I ended up working almost a full day today--7 hours. Way better than 0 hours. The bad part is that we did cleanup all day, and I am so tired. Cleaning is hard work. I definitely earned my pay today.


Strange thing this morning. When I got up to leave for work, I opened the door and there was this strange white stuff all over everything.



It covered the grass

and the wood pile.
It was even on Jimmy.
I couldn't figure it out. I thought maybe there'd been a forest fire and everything was covered with ashes, but there weren't any fires around here last night. Then I thought, may be ash from a volcanic erup....what?...huh?....

SNOW??? What the heck is that?

Sure enough, we'd gotten a bit of snow during the night. Now I know to some of you, this may not seem like much, but this is the most snow we've gotten this millennium. Cody was upset because the schools didn't close. And it all melted as soon as the sun came up.


Oh, well. That was winter, despite what the local groundhog forecast.


Today's dishcloth rows leave little doubt as to what the pattern will be. Rows of hearts--my guess is three rows of three hearts. We'll see if I'm right.

Ok, that's cheating I know. I've seen this pattern before, and know what it will be.

I've decided to alter my WIP list and remove the monthly dishcloth from it. I'll split #9 into two separate numbers, since it is two separate pairs of socks. One pair is almost done. I'll finish it this weekend, then have pictures for you.

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A Little Bit of This...

These people I work with just crack me up sometimes. We are having another unpaid plant shutdown day tomorrow. When they announced it, everyone was griping and fussing.

"I just can't make it on 4 days. What am I going to do? How am I going to pay my bills?"

Yet, when Johnny went around after lunch asking for volunteers to work tomorrow, do you know how many people said they'd work? Three. Yes, three. Count 'em: three. Out of the thirty some-odd people in my department, only three volunteered to work. Yes, I am one of the three. I mean, it's not like I can sleep in anyway, since I have to get Cody up for school, so I might as well go in and work--for however long they let us stay.

One lady told me she didn't volunteer because Johnny couldn't guarantee that she'd get 8 full hours. "I don't want 4 hours. I want 8 hours," she said. Yeah, I want 8 hours, too but 4 hours is better than 0 hours. She is choosing no pay rather than partial pay, because in her mind it's full pay or nothing. She is cutting off her nose to spite her face. She is one of the ones who complain the loudest about not having enough money, too.


Onwards...

I finished my hat and scarf this afternoon, except for weaving in my ends on the scarf.




The scarf turned out just the right length, too. I doubt I keep these, though. They will most likely end up in the gift drawer. Getting a head start on Christmas knitting...

Best of all, I can scratch another entry off of my WIP list:


1. Prayer Shawl
2. Irish Hiking Scarf
3. Wavy Lace Shawl
4. Red Heart Strata Scarf
5. Branching Out Lace Scarf
6. Texas Longhorn Scarf
7. First Time Socks
8. Monthly dishcloths KAL--two per month
9. Socks knitted from the yarn I got for Christmas (two pair)
10. One slot left open for a screaming stash project


Slowly but surely, I'm getting it done. However, #8 doesn't really count, since it is an ongoing thing, and won't really end. I'm even thinking of removing it from the list all together and replacing it with another screaming stash project. For those of you wondering what a screaming stash project is, it is when you find a pattern or some yarn in your stash that just screams out "KNIT ME!" I don't have any that are screaming yet, but I do have some yarn that is beginning to get rather vocal...


While we are on the subject, it is time to begin another




I'm guessing this one will have something to do with hearts. Red or pink yarn required, February, Valentine's Day...Not hard to put those clues together.


And lest I forget, the

This is a tomato flower, drawn from a reference photo. Flowers are generally pretty easy to draw, and I enjoy doing them.

Heading for bed, now. I have a book by my bedside that is screaming, "READ ME!!!" I'm happy to oblige.
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The Problem

when you have huge clown feet like I do is that you have to sketch them really fast before your entire leg goes to sleep, so your proportions aren't always right and your toes run off the page. Not one of my prouder moments, but still a



I haven't posted any knitting progress in a while, so here is where I am. The second sock is coming along, slowly but surely.



The 8 foot long scarf has had another change of plans. You may recall this project from my WIP list. It was #4. A couple of weeks ago, I decided that the scarf would be way too long, so I was going to knit it wider to make it shorter. I didn't rip the whole thing, that's too much work. I just started at the other end of the yarn. It didn't take long, however, to realize that a) I just didn't like it that wide, and b) I didn't really want to knit the whole thing over again. So I ripped the new part and cast on a hat. Once I'm done with the hat, I'll pick the original scarf back up and finish it. Then I will have a hat and scarf that match. Cool, huh?

It is snowing outside as I type this. Very tiny flakes, and no accumulation is expected. But that's the kind of snow we usually get down here. Still, it's good weather for hot chocolate and knitting.

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Lots to Catch Up On

But I am soooo tired. Johnny was on one of his rampages this morning, and frankly, once he told me what had happened, I couldn't say I'd blamed him. First, I'd better familiarize you with the hierarchy at work.

The top position is the Production Superintendent, a guy named Jake Spears. This is only dealing with the shop floor. I won't get into the managerial structure of the front office, since they are insignificant to this story. They are pretty insignificant anyway, but that's another post.

So we have Jake, the production superintendent. He is over all the production on all the shifts. Under him, each shift has two to three supervisors. Each area (on each shift) has its own supervisor. On day shift, the supervisors are Ron Bourne (Air Handler area), Ronnie Patterson (A-Coil Assembly), and Calvin Miller (Component Parts). Under the supervisors, each department within each area has a group leader. This is where Johnny Lindley comes in. He is the group leader of my department (tubing).

Now, Johnny is not one to normally inspire warm fuzzies in a person. Quite the opposite, Johnny Lindley can drive a grown man to tears, so when I say he went on a rampage, I mean we were all walking on eggshells.

Some of the other shifts don't seem to like taking their scrap copper to the scrap dock, so they've been hiding it under conveyors and buggies and such. Now, neither Johnny nor Calvin can control what the other shifts do, but Jake can. Johnny had been complaining to Jake about the scrap being left in bins on the floor for weeks now, but Jake hadn't done anything about it. He hadn't made the other shifts take it to the dock. This morning, he had jumped all over Johnny and told him he needed to get those bins of copper up off the floor because we are having company. This made Johnny mad, justifiably so, and he decided we wouldn't just clean up the scrap copper, we'd clean up everything.

And clean we did--all morning. When I got home, I decided I wasn't going to clean a darn thing, and I didn't. I'd had enough of cleaning for one day. Even my sketch for today was a bit pitiful. By lunch time, my arms were so tired, I could hardly lift them, much less sketch anything.

Here is what I did:
It is the handle of my brazing torch. The left knob looks a little funny because I ran out of time and just threw something up there.

I sure didn't feel like going to karate tonight, but Cody was anxious to go and see if he'd been promoted. Sure enough, sensei promoted him to san-kyu. He's done a whole lot better since we started back. I hope he keeps his effort and motivation up.


The white belt on the far right started tonight. He just tickled me. He was so excited about starting. He said he'd always wanted to learn a martial art, but never had. For his latest birthday, his wife came and signed him up for class, bought his gi and some sparring gear, and of course surprised him with it. He was quite effervescent in his enthusiasm. He even said that he would bring his sparring gear up and leave it at the dojo so everyone could use it. I guess he didn't think we would have our own.

While sensei was teaching him and another guy who was observing, I led the big class. We did basics and kata, which is what karate is really all about.

James asked sensei when he was going to test for his full black. Sensei was hemming and hawing around trying to think of a diplomatic answer, but I felt no need for such hesitation. I promptly told James, "When you're ready." I wonder how he thinks he's going to get ready if he doesn't even come to class. He wouldn't have even dressed out tonight if I hadn't leaned on him a little. Even then, he didn't do anything. Somebody's going to have to get it through his head that he is going to have to earn his belt. The board isn't going to baby him. Neither are they going to give him a rank he doesn't deserve.

He needs to just grow up a little.
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Another Short Post

Between suspected tendinitis, possible carpal tunnel trying to develop, general muscle soreness from work and the fact that I can't take any anti-inflammatories for them, I'm trying to stay off the computer as much as I can here lately.

But I won't forget the
This is the computer cabinet from work, and the rack thingy in which we put our completed orders. Oh, and the funny looking blob is the telephone. It was the hardest to draw because it is black, and the cabinet is also black. Black on black makes it hard to see.

I'm going to have to print out some more reference photos. I'm getting bored with sketching my workplace.

It was pretty nippy here this morning--15'. J called and said he'd take Cody to school since it was so cold. He thought it was too cold for Cody to be standing out there waiting on the bus. Cody appreciated it, but I couldn't help but contrast that with my sister's latest e-mail, in which she stated, "It's 5', plenty warm enough for Nate to play outside." They live in Alaska, by the way.
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I Know It's Sunday

But here is yesterday's Saturday Sky:

It has been rather chilly today, with a strong North wind blowing all day. It was a good day to sit inside and knit. I really haven't gotten all that much knitting done, but I have accomplished something pretty major today. I got my taxes done! This is the earliest I've gotten them done in a long time. I usually procrastinate until sometime in March.

Unfortunately, now my brain is too worn out to think of decent things to blog about, so I'm going to go watch some TV and work on my second sock.

Curses! Foiled Again!

The plan was to go to Memphis to the zoo, but as soon as we got onto the highway, it began to rain. It rained the whole way, so we didn't go all the way into Memphis. We decided to go to the Petco in Olive Branch, since I had a 10% off coupon that was about to expire.

Once we got to OB, instead of turning left into the Petco parking lot, I thought, "Let's just go straight here and see what's beyond this stop sign." So we did, and discovered an absolute wonderland right there behind Wal-Mart and Office Max.

There was J.C. Penney, Dillard's, Yankee Candle, Sportsman's Outfitters (or something like that), and so many other stores I don't remember them all. Best of all, a Books-A-Million! I couldn't believe it! A real bookstore! One in which you can browse and thumb through, and even sit down and read! I was in Heaven! But I practiced restraint. I only bought three books for myself and two for Cody.

The bad news is, I left my camera in the car so I'll have to post my Saturday Sky picture tomorrow. Right now, I'm going to go curl up in bed with a mug of hot chocolate and one of my new books.

I'll tell you more about the trip tomorrow.
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Kid Pics

Yesterday, Buck posted some adorable pictures of his youngest son climbing on stuff and fiddling with switches and levers (of a sort). They reminded me so much of these pictures I had of Cody driving the kitchen sink that I just had to dig them out and post them.


Then he discovered the inner workings of the garbage disposal, and I had to intervene:

Fortunately, this was right before we moved in and neither the water nor electricity had been turned on.

These last few days, Cody's been trying real hard to convince me that he's got a mustache. I don't quite see it yet, but offer the following proof that he is indeed a man:

September 1995. One month shy of two years old, and he's already got the remote figured out.

Finally, another picture of my nephew Paul, taken when he was a week old.

On to weirder things...Last night I had the strangest dream. It was very long, and had a few blurry bits in it as dreams are wont to do. I dreamed that I was in a huge medical complex. I mean it was enormous. There was an inpatient hospital, outpatient care, private practice offices, and even it's own pharmacy all in one huge building. I had gone into see my doctor, and as the dream opened, our appointment was just ending, and we were standing in the corridor talking.

"Try that prescription," he told me, "and if that doesn't work, come back and we'll try something else." About that time, a rather extremely large woman entered the hall and started to hit on my doctor. As in, flirt with him, not pound on him. She inserted herself firmly between the doctor and me, began chatting him up, and at the same time sort of draped herself over my shoulder as if trying to push me down and out of the picture. I finally got tired of her leaning against me, and pushed her off. She then began to raise a ruckus about how I'd assaulted her and she was going to file charges against me, sue me, etc, etc. I think she was just trying to impress the good doctor.

I just rolled my eyes at her and walked down to the pharmacy window to pick up my prescription. The pharmacist had seen the whole thing and wanted to know what had happened back there. I told him, explaining that I hadn't assaulted her. She was draped over me and I just wanted to get her off my back--literally.

After picking up my prescription, I wandered over to the patient lounge area, which was next to the pharmacy. I walked in and the TV was turned on. The show Deal or No Deal was playing, only some of the models on the show were bare breasted--and no, it wasn't Howie. I was shocked. "They can't be doing that on network television! They will get in big trouble with the FCC!" You know how sometimes in dreams you just know stuff without having to have it explained? Well, I just knew that they were trying to see how much they could get away with.

My friend John, who in real life is a pastor, in this dream was a doctor in this hospital. I went to his office and told him what had happened. "They can't be doing that, can they?"

"Naw," he replied. "They can't be doing that." So saying, he stormed out of his office determined to find out what was going on, and to file a complaint with the FCC, muttering all the while about how low this country's morals have become if they will show this kind of garbage when our children can see it.

As I was wandering back toward the lounge, I just happened to glance into an operating room in which they were preparing a baby airplane for surgery. Yes, you heard right. A baby airplane. An infant 747. Another of those "in a dream you just know" moments, I somehow knew that the baby airplane was scheduled to have one of its wings removed on orders of its father. The father feared that when the baby grew to be a teenage airplane, it might try to fly away from its poverty stricken, Spanish speaking, Communist controlled country (we don't know any that fit that description, do we?), and seek a new life in America. So he'd ordered that one of the baby's wings be removed so that it would be unable to fly.

As soon as I saw this, I charged into the operating room and snatched up the baby airplane. There was no way I was going to let them maim and permanently cripple this darling little infant because of its father's paranoia. The doctors tried to make me give him back so they could amputate his wing. It was his father's orders, after all, but I wouldn't let him go. The doctor called security to tell them to send someone to arrest me, and I ran over close to the phone and began yelling at the security guard to call child protective services. All the commotion frightened the little baby airplane, and I began trying to soothe it. It was at this point that I woke up.

I really do need to see about getting my prescription changed...

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All Thumbs

Everyone needs a hobby. In the old TV show M*A*S*H , Colonel Potter's hobby is painting. In various episodes, he paints Hawkeye, Charles, and even himself on Sophie the mare. In one particular episode, it appears he is painting the Korean landscape. He holds up his thumb, studies his model carefully, then paints a bit. When the viewer actually gets to see the finished painting, we discover that Colonel Potter is painting, not the scenery, but a picture of his thumb.

Ladies and Gentlemen, for your


I present to you, my thumb:

We had rank tests tonight at the dojo. Joshua and Barrett were testing for their Ik-kyus. Tuesday night, after doing basics, then kata by the numbers as a class, we had an open workout for the rest of the class. Watching Josh and Barrett going over kata, and bunkai, and self defense...I almost felt jealous. They were concentrating. They were focused. They were serious. They were working. I thought to myself, "If I'd had someone like that to work on my black belt stuff with, I might have felt a little more prepared for the test."

But no. I had to work with James.

"Come on, James. Let's do bunkai." "Come on, James, let's work on some self defense." "James, let's do kata." "James! Let's do something. Anything."

When sensei would send us off to work on stuff for our test, James would make a beeline straight for the chair, grab his cell phone and start texting. I might get him to go over one kata with me, but then I'd end up working out by myself. Even the two man routines, like two man basics and bo vs bo kumite, he'd maybe do them one time, then he'd run right back to that cell phone. I finally taught bo vs bo to Josh, just so I'd have somebody to practice it with.

I find it extremely funny that James is still mad because he didn't get his full black belt. He said only Tuesday night, "It was only two months until my birthday. They could have given it to me." I guess he doesn't realize that his age wasn't why he didn't get it. He didn't get it because he didn't earn it.


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Last Date

Hot on the heels of yesterday's post, I'm reminded of the last date I went on. It was so long ago that I'm embarrassed to tell you how old Cody was. Not only that, but I hesitate to even call it a date since we (the man and I) took all our kids to the park for a picnic. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Years ago, there was a man who attended the same church as I do. He was divorced also, and had twin sons about a year and a half older than Cody. The boys were cute as buttons, but wild as march hares. Paul was the director of the local church camp. His responsibilities included maintaining the buildings, scheduling camps and retreats for local churches, and planning activities for summer camps. I had met Paul on occasion, but he was not someone I could see myself dating. Besides that, he was pretty tight with another recently divorced lady from the church. Rumor had it that she really wanted the boys, rather than Paul, but I couldn't tell you if it were really so.

My cousin just loved Paul and thought he was "sweet sweet sweet". She was constantly pushing me to "encourage him". But I just wasn't interested. I didn't find Paul attractive, and it didn't seem that we had much in common, other than both of us being divorced with sons.

One day, seemingly out of the blue, I get a phone call from Paul. I wondered how he got my phone number, since it is unlisted. When I asked my cousin about it, she admitted that she had given it to him and told him that I'd wanted him to call me. She justified it by saying she'd felt I just needed a little push in the "right direction". So Paul called and asked me out. I didn't really want to go out with him, but I said yes anyway. Here's why:

Just a couple of days before that, I'd gotten into a spirited discussion with a co-worker of mine who was telling me that I wasn't giving guys enough of a chance. This co-worker, Duane, was really pretty cool. He was someone that I could talk to. He became my source of information. Many a time I would ask him why do men do this, or why did that man react that way, or what does it really mean when men do or say this or that, and he would explain it in a way that made sense to me. Duane told me once that I had an air of unapproachability about me, and in the same conversation he told me I shouldn't throw myself at men because that makes me look desperate and is a turn off. To this day, I have yet to figure out how I manage to unapproachably throw myself at guys.

Anyway, Duane and I had this discussion about me not giving men enough of a chance. My position is that sometimes you just know when a man is not right for you. You don't have to live with him x number of years or have sex with him x number of times to figure it out. You just know. Straight away. The example I used was a man from work who was unintelligent, unclean (he was always dirty and he stank), rumored to be an alcoholic, suspected of being violent from time to time, and had the reputation of being unfaithful in his relationships. He wasn't nearly good looking enough to make up for all that. I told Duane that with a man like that, I didn't have to spend any time in a relationship with him to know that I didn't want to be with him. I just knew. Duane's answer was, "No, you don't because you are not giving him a chance!" So when Paul called, I thought "Maybe Duane is right. Maybe I should give him a chance and get to know him." On the strength of that, I agreed to go out with him, though I didn't really want to.

The first night we went out, well it wasn't really a date because we had all our kids with us. He wanted to show me the camp where he worked, so we went out there and he showed me around. As part of his compensation for being the director, he was provided with a house to live in at the camp. When we walked into that house, I swear I wanted to hurl. It was the filthiest place I'd ever been in. The floor was filthy, there was very little furniture, and the carpet looked as if it hadn't seen a vacuum in it's entire life. The couch was so grungy and grimy, I didn't even want to sit down on it. When I asked to use his restroom, there was feces floating in the toilet. I was revolted. If I hadn't had to go so badly, I would have passed on using the toilet.

Shortly after we got there, Paul asked me if I wanted a soft drink, and I said yes. To my horror, instead of getting a can out, he poured me a glass from a two liter bottle. I was afraid to drink it. Seriously.

Paul sat in his recliner, and I sat on the couch--holding my drink the whole time because there wasn't any where to set it down--and we talked. The first thing I asked about was this other lady he'd been seeing. I wasn't jealous, but I didn't want to cause any trouble for her. Well, truth is, I didn't want her coming after me in a rage. Paul told me that they'd talked and agreed that they would just be friends. However, her behavior, even after that day lead me to believe that he'd somehow forgotten to tell her about that little talk.

Then I told him that because of my recent divorce (ok it had been five years, but he didn't need to know that) I wasn't ready to get involved in a serious relationship so soon. I assured him that I wasn't ruling out a relationship in the future, but at that moment, I just wasn't ready to get involved. I didn't want to rush in to a commitment I felt I wasn't ready for. He told me that he understood, and that we'd just be friends, but by the end of that evening, I was pretty well convinced that he had no intention of respecting my wishes in that area. I think he was already picturing us married, and may have even mentally set the date.

The next day, Saturday, he came to my house and we visited a bit. Then we decided to take the boys on a picnic out at the lake. By this time, I'd seen enough red flags that I knew I didn't want to get involved with him. At all. Ever. So after we'd eaten and were walking the trails through the woods at the boys' request, when Paul tried to hold hands with me, I didn't let him.

I'll tell you why. Holding hands is not something "just friends" do. I didn't want to give him any encouragement that would just make it harder to end things later. I didn't want him to come back accusing me of leading him on then dumping him. I didn't want to give him any ideas, therefore, I didn't want him holding hands with me, and apparently, that shamed him.

He pulled a switch off a tree, stripped it of its leaves, and switched me across the back of the legs hard enough to leave a red whelp for three days.

"That hurt!", I exclaimed.

"Yeah, it did, didn't it?", Paul replied, his tone implying that he was proud of himself for having hit me.

We continued the walk, barely speaking after that. I kept waiting for him to apologize. He didn't. When it became apparent that he wasn't going to do so, I began to hint that he needed to apologize. I said something to him about the red marks on my legs, and in a mocking tone, he said, "I wonder where those came from?" Even though my hints got stronger, he never did apologize.

Would it have made a difference if he had? Of course.

Would I have gone out with him again? Not if he were the last man on Earth.

Then what difference would an apology have made? Well, I might not have hit him back...

But then again...

As we approached the end of the trail, Paul did a very stupid thing. He handed me the switch. Now, I must point out that this was before I began training in karate. That point must be clearly understood. I would never use my karate for vengeance or to attack another. Nevertheless, when he handed me that switch, I wore his tail end out!

"Oh," he whined. "You're just like my ex-wife. She was so abusive. I was a battered husband." Blah, blah, blah...whine, whine, whine...

By that time, I was thoroughly disgusted with the man, and was so glad when the afternoon finally ended and he took Cody and me home.

When all was said and done, I think the part that hurt the worst was when I told my cousin what had happened. Her response:

"Oh, no, no, no! Paul wouldn't do something like that. YOU must be mistaken."

Even after I showed her the red marks on my legs, she still insisted that it had to have been an accident, because Paul was "so sweet". That just didn't sound like him. What? Did she think I was lying about it?

Her husband was a different story. When I told him, and showed him the marks, he didn't say anything for a long time, but I could see the muscle in his jaw pop out and the vein in his neck start throbbing. He finally said, "He has just made himself unwelcome in this family". And that was the end of that attempt at matchmaking.

Now the best part about the whole thing was when I went back to work the next Monday. I found Duane and told him what Paul had done. Then I asked him,

"How many times do I have to let him hit me before you think I've given him enough of a chance?"

Duane had no answer for that. He did stop advising me about my love life, though. I never went out with Paul again. He eventually got fired from the camp and left the church. I have no idea where he is now, and I don't really care. As I said yesterday, I'd rather be alone for the rest of my life than with someone who will abuse me.


Strangely apropos, today's sketch is the safety rail around my striker at work. It doesn't protect me from the flame, but protects passersby from inadvertently walking into my lit torch.

It's all about being safe, whether at work or in relationship.

Stay safe. Always.
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I Love Eggs!

but eggs don't love me! It seems egg commercials are everywhere these days. Or maybe I'm just noticing them more. I think I could live on eggs, if I weren't allergic to them. Sigh...and my search for fake eggs continues...

Meanwhile, for the
I present an egg, drawn from imagination. I wanted a simple shape so I could work on shading a bit. I can see now some things I would have changed if I'd had time. But the end of break buzzer went off, so I had to stop.

While we are on the subject, here is yesterday's sketch, my tape measure. I had a hard time with the shadow under this one because we have multiple light sources in there. They cast multiple shadows. I finally had to just pick one and go for it.

I used to post my daily sketches on a drawing forum, but they just didn't seem to get what I was trying to do. Line sketches, with a little bit of shading if time permits, done in 10-15 minutes. Without fail, every time I posted a sketch, someone (or multiple someones) would tell me I needed to add more detail, or more shading, or work more on my background, or rework my perspective, or this, or that, or the other...As many times as I tried to explain--quickly drawn line sketches--they just didn't seem to get it. I finally quit posting my sketches, and eventually quit visiting that forum. I don't even miss it.
There is a lady I work with who seems determined to get me married off. We were talking about this man who also works there, but he's in the front office. I don't know what his job actually is. I don't think anybody does. Come to think of it, I don't think he really even has a real job. He's just there. He has been a supervisor in the past, as well as filling in when we were between Operation Superintendents. (We seem to go through those like water.)
Susan and I were talking about how our co-workers can act like totally different people outside the work environment. She mentioned this guy--John--and how she'd gone to a party given by his hunting club. She said that at the party, he was really, really nice. I remarked that, yeah, I liked John, as long as I didn't have to work for him.
Susan then said, "He would be a good man for you, if you could get past the weight thing*." (John is very overweight.)
I replied, "No, I like him as a friend, but I'm just not attracted to him that way. Besides that, he's been married and divorced four times." In other words, he doesn't have a good track record. She responded that no, she thought it was only three. Uh, three failed marriages still isn't a good resume. I then stated that besides being married and divorced four (or is it three?) times, I'd heard he was abusive to his wives.
She said, "I hadn't heard that, but I've heard that he is real mean to his wives."
DUH!!!! Isn't that was abusive means? Not all abuse is physical, and a man doesn't have to hit you to be abusing you. There is also verbal, mental, and emotional abuse. Being mean qualifies as abuse in my book.
Susan then told me that the reason he got divorced this last time was because his wife went to Wal-mart and bought something for her daughter. He got into her face, yelling and cursing, saying she had no right to spend his money on her daughter. Yeah, she said, she'd heard he was mean to them, but he doesn't hit them. Then she looked at me and said,
"But I think you could handle it, anyway."
Excuse me???? I could handle it???? I'm not going to handle it, even if I could. I shouldn't have to put up with abuse just because I "could handle it", and I'm not going to. I'll stay single the rest of my life before I'll get involved with someone known to be abusive.
Sheesh.
So here is this friend of mine, recommending a man who uses food as his drug of choice, has been divorced four (or three) times, and is abusive (or maybe just mean) to his wives as a "good man". Does she really see a man like that as a good man? I think I now know why she seems so bitter.
*The Weight Thing: Susan is attracted to overweight men. I'm not talking about basically fit guys with a bit of a spare tire or belly. She likes them fat. Really fat. She once pointed out a man that she thought was attractive. She said he had a nice build. The guy was about 5'10" and pushing, if not exceeding, 300 lbs. Heck, Peyton Manning is 6'5" and he doesn't even weigh 300 lbs. At least, not according to that phone commercial thing he does. Susan thinks the body types I'm attracted to are too skinny. I don't like men to be skin and bones, but I just don't find obese men to be attractive. So, according to Susan, I have hangups about men's weight.
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Sock, Take II

I finished the first one, with barely a yard of yarn to spare. Toward the end, I was getting a bit nervous, thinking maybe I hadn't shortened the leg enough, but I made it. Do you see the little bit of blue at the toe? The yarn ran out before that turned back to grey. The second sock will not be identical, because the first bit of color on that ball is blue. After what happened with this one, I don't dare try to match the colors for fear I won't have enough yarn to finish.



Looking at this picture, I can tell I really need some sock blockers. Maybe not, though. After all, they will get unblocked every time I wash them.

Speaking of washing, I'm really wanting to felt my first pair of socks that I did. They are 100% wool, and not superwash either. They have to be hand washed and air dried, so they really aren't practical for everyday use. I want to felt them, just to see what they'll turn out like. I'm trying to resist because they are keeping my feet toasty warm at night. Maybe once I get one of these other pairs finished...

When I came in to update my blog, I surprised Sunset in the act of shedding:

Cindy, if Robbie or Aaron wants the skin, e-mail me your snail mail addy and I'll send it to you.

I left my sketch book in the car again, so you'll have to wait until tomorrow to see today's sketch.

Sorry for the abruptness of this post. I really had more I wanted to talk about, but I wanted to get that sock finished so I could post it. Now I'm headed for bed. Good night.

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