Congrats, Em and Crystal

The commencement speeches were very bizarre, especially the one given by the honored alumni. It went something like this...

Look around--half of you will commit suicide (yes, when I couldn’t figure out what the hell I was supposed to say to you people, I polled everyone I know…then I tried to poll people I used to know, one was DEAD BY HER OWN HAND [I'm sorry, I laughed, it was just so bizarre]), half of those left will kill off the other half, but if you’re
depressed–and everyone is–or a Jedi in a Star Trek world, we got brain stim, which is slightly more comfortable than that yucky old shock therapy of the past and just might actually work. We're not sure yet. We need more test subjects. Would you like to join my research study?

Someone, possibly the above person, said something like, "The person you were in high school does not define who you are for the rest of your life." OK, good. Something useful and relevant and oh, holy hell...uplifting and inspirational. Hopefully, those young people hanging on the edge of the abyss caught that and took a step back. The rest of it was just damn depressing. And bizarre. Did I mention bizarre?

I mentioned it to Holly and she said, "My brother's grad speech was all about the gimps and weirdos. True. It was from the football coach. Mine was about the baby mommas, and living dead girl. Zombie anyone?"

Wtf?

I have no idea how to embed a you tube video but this was a way better commencement address.

I told Em I'm very proud of her and she asked, "For what? All I did was go to school." Yes. For thirteen years. And participated and did well and rarely missed a day. But mostly, I'm proud of her for surviving school with her self intact. She's a brilliant and beautiful young lady and I'm proud she calls me Mom.

Print o'the Blocked

PS: Happy Birthday to my oldest original kid, Dave.

I love you!

And the winner is....

Miss Abi, with her President's Award for Academic Excellence.

An official certificate, congratulatory letter from President Obama and a pin (which I'm pretty sure she wore to bed on her nighty)

And...right after I wrote this, I realized I never shared a huge thing for Kai. Our elementary school has a program with Brainstormers. They come in and help the kids write stories. Later, they (Brainstormer people) select a few of the kids’ stories to come back and perform as little plays. Kai’s teacher called the night before their return on March 20…his story was selected!

The kids had no idea who’s stories would be featured. Teachers just found out the day before so they could invite authors’ parents to attend. We weren't to tell the kids and parents were hidden in the office to sneak in once the kids were seated in the gym. It was so much fun. Kai was thrilled he was chosen. He was also very comfortable talking about his story, Super Dog, before the play.

disturbed

The power supply in my computer died last night. This morning, our cable modem bit the dust. I had to move all my crafty crap around to get my puter out to take it to the ER. Then, Peter (in total panic at having his Slingo interrupted) moved more of my crap around to get to all the cables in attempts to get other computers back online, before he figured out the modem was fried. He eventually exchanged the modem with Comcast, Em loaned me her laptop, Dave brought over a printer (my printer's shared by the network but it doesn't have a USB connection so won't work with Em's laptop)--which only seems to have pink ink--and things are sorta up and running.

But my stuffs is disturbed.

Piles of my life are everywhere. I keep trying to use my keyboard and mouse but they're not connected. My monitor, however, is. Graham thinks it's funny to have dual monitors...I can shrink what I'm working on on the laptop, drag it to the right and onto my regular monitor. Which I can't fully see because the laptop is in front of it.

I'm confused.

And disturbed. Deeply disturbed.

Zombie Prom Date Knitters go to the prom

Crystal and Emily

Black alpaca w/teal wool

August 2008 046
Originally uploaded by Spinsanity

I picked up 8 oz of this at last year's Michigan Fiberfest. I was invited to spin with some new friends a few weeks ago and didn't have a wheel project going. Pulled this out of stash. Wugh. This stuff is awful. It's sooooo full of VM, I'm picking crap out every couple inches. I've got five alpaca blankets that I've been picking and washing and they're nothing like this garbage.

Note to self: unroll the fiber balls before purchase, even if they appear clean

Mother's Day

On waking up, without even a taste of coffee, I was greeted with "the dishwasher doesn't work anymore." Oh, yay.

But the day got better. My oldest original (pre P-man) kid stopped by to deliver a huge fountain iced tea, a Hershey bar with almonds, a red tulip, a yellow tulip and this card...

the front

middle

inside

How can I even begin to explain how perfect--and funny--this card is? The front...remember this? And then, on 6/6/06 (at 6 AM, I kid you not), I had surgery to remove the fragments of my tailbone. And then, back in March this year, I fell downstairs and bruised my stupid butt again.

No explanation for the left middle.

The right middle though...that's our dining room table (yes, we have a picnic table in our dining room, that is another story...and yes, that toaster on the table is plugged into a heavy duty orange extension cord...the wiring sucketh in this house, we can't make toast and coffee at the same time without blowing a circuit breaker). Anyway, P-man was here for my butt cracking surgery and returned to his work in Mexico a few days later. While lounging on the couch watching movies with the family, I lamented how part of my post op instructions was to check the incision daily and how the hell was I supposed to do that? Ever tried to peer inside your own butt crack? I needed my husband!

Dave stood up and loudly announced, "OK, mom, get up on the table...come on everyone, we'll do this as a family!"

No, I didn't. No, we didn't. But I laughed so hard my ass nearly split open. And "We'll do this as a family!" has become a favorite catch phrase for just about anything.

The bikes? When Dave was really little and his dad and I were still happily married, we bought an old tandem bike. We put a child seat on the back and spent many a day riding through the streets where we lived. Often belting out "We like to ride our bike, our bike. We like to ride our bike. To ride our bike is what we like. We like to ride our bike!" attracting stares. Eh, an entire family on an old tandem bike and loud, bad singing will do that. It was fun.

More recently, though not recently enough, Dave took me on some long, meandering bike rides through town. Not on the tandem--I still have it but it's in poor shape. We'd planned to do the Kal-Haven Trail Blazer a few years ago but it rained and I was wuss. Didn't want to ride 34 miles in the rain. We put it off for the next year. The year I broke my ass. We never made it. I haven't been on a bike since.

That same year, I was supposed to do my third Breast Cancer 3 Day in a row. I had to bow out. I stopped training. I stopped walking. I stopped...wow, this was supposed to be funny.

I need to get back on the bike. I'm 5'3", Dave's over 6'. He's 26, I'm 46. He's young and strong and healthy. I've got RA, way too much extra poundage (how did this happen?), a scarred butt crack and two bad knees. You think I can keep up?

I love that kid.

busy

P-man has been sitting here seeming like he thinks I should be doing something. He’s asked (about 10 times) if I have any ideas for dinner. I don’t. He’s asked if I needed anything from the wood store. I do. He’s suggested I get cleaned up and actually go to the wood store. I don’t wanna. He’s offered to go to the wood store for me, to get 1/4” oak dowels, because I’m out. I actually need to place an order online but first need to take some inventory and plan what I’m going to work on and figure out exactly what I need so I don’t end up with a bunch of some stuff, not enough of other stuff and have to make another run to the wood store. But I don’t want to do that. right. now. I am busy. I am knitting. I am doing something.

More than halfway to done, done, done with the edging. I have steeled myself to keep knitting this endless, repetitive, monotonous, interminable edging for all eternity. Leave me alone...I am KNITTING.

It will end. The yarn will run out, I'll turn the last corner, I'll run away from home. Something will end. The big question is--who, or what, will give first?