Romancing The Stone

The last 30 hours have been from hell! Today at 3:03 p.m. I passed a kidney stone. I would have taken a picture of it for my blog, but some things are just too personal! It felt like a boulder, but it was just a tiny stone. And that's one stone I never plan on romancing again!

Today I had planned to have some knitbuds over for a cookout, swimming, knitting and, of course, a drink or two or three. But unfortunately I had to cancel because of the kidney stone from hell! So I apologize to the knitbuds (Erin, Susan, Elizabeth, Becky, Sarah , Sky, Anne and Kelly) who were planning on sippin' and knittin' today. We will have to plan another day.

What was really bad about the entire ordeal was that I could not even pick up the needles. The pain was excruciating and I just couldn't knit, though I tried. Okay, enough whining; I'm starting to sound like a man!

Hope all is well with everyone! Toodles....

Poo-Poo on Spammers!

Darn! My blog has been spammed. I'm going to continue to allow comments (because I love them!) but will initiate the highly annoying word verification thingie. Hopefully that will eliminate the spam, and then I can go back to the regular comment format in a week or two.

What's up with that crap anyway? My blog has enough bullshit in it, that it doesn't need additional crap added in the mix!

ON SPAMMERS!

Reality Check!

I am sweatin' my ass off knitting sweaters this summer. Yea, we have central air conditioning, but when you have a big honkin' sweater sitting in your lap, which is being knit in a big fricken bulky weight yarn, you break out into a sweat! So then I switch to sweater #2, which is impatiently waiting on the needles begging to be finished and meet his little owner, Simon. This sweater is being knit in DK weight, which is more tolerable to knit. However, switching from size 15 to size 5 needles is a shock to the hands. For the first 15 minutes, I keep dropping the needles and saying shit over and over again. (Darn, I need to clean up my language!)

Then the whining out loud commences, and my husband says, "Do you want me to adjust the temperature in the house for your hot flashes?" Yadda, yadda, yadda, blah, blah, blah. Yea, he's right.... It's not the weight of the yarn. It's my age. Why does he have to be so smart?