Hard Exterior Reveals Chocolate Filling

Ok, Ok, you got me....I am actually looking forward to V-Day this year. The Dread Valentine's Day, as I've thought of it in years' past, is not so dreaded this time around.

Last year it was a day of endings, as it was the day of Grandpa's funeral. But this year I'm looking at it as a day of beginnings. It's the day I'll be signing my new lease. And I'll be spending it with the Dreamboat and his Funny Dog. I'm bringing over a cotton blend yarn, just for her to sniff. Color? Why red, of course.

Grandpa, Tell Me 'Bout The Good Ol' Days

My Grandpa called me "Dollgirl," He called my brother "Nason." And he called my sister "Dolly."

He lived 94 years, and was sharp, right till the end. He had heart surgery when he was 89, and they told the family to be there as he didn't have a good chance of making it out of recovery. Well, he did. He was with us for another 5 years.

He worked at Ford during the Union Riots. When I started working Downtown, we would talk about what stores were still open, which buildings were still there. Stores and buildings he used to visit. He told me I worked too much. And he was right. Still is.

He had a hunting camp, where they called him "One Shot Walt." Because he didn't miss.

He would tell me, "I don't like you driving at night. Don't pick up hitch hikers." And then send me on my way with a bag of treats, "something to chew on for the drive." And orders to call my mom to let her know I made it to my destination.

You never left his house with an empty stomach.

He cared deeply for all of his grandchildren and great grandchildren, and made us all feel like we were his favorite. In truth, he never treated any one of us any differently. Because we were all his favorite.

And a year ago today, he died. In his own bed, peacefully in his sleep.

Fashionable Fabulousness

Soon I will have an address that confirms my Fabulousness. Or maybe just a valid excuse for my eccentricities, as this neighborhood is home to some of the zaniest and nicest people in Metro Detroit. I shall very soon be signing a lease on a new place.

This place, I have been assured, has no major spider problem. It also has no creepy basement with monsters. It does have a creepy attic, but as access is through the ceiling I'll just never look up and pretend it's not there. It also has a lime green kitchen. Who could ask for anything more?

Pppffffttttt....Pickle Edition

Pickle has learned a new trick, making fart noises. This video is great because it also demonstrates his Very Expressive Face.

Public Apology

It seems that I owe an apology to one very cute, very smart dog. When she found out about my post, she got a little offended. She may have been a little embarrassed that I shared that story to the Internets. I found out from her human that she has started using some foul language. This has to stop, Good Dogs don't use bad words.

I think she may have misinterpreted my meaning. I like her so much that I've made her part of this blog. If fact, I'm delighted she shares my appreciation for yarn. I'm just not as uninhibited to sniff it (at least, not in front of anyone).

Dogs Are Weird

Last night I went to the Dreamboat's house to hide from the Blues. The Blues have chosen a prime spot above my bed, so that whenever I lay down my head, I'm completely overwhelmed. I warned him that I wasn't up for much conversation, and that I really just wanted to knit. He was fine with that, told me to bring it over and we could just watch a movie.

It was kind of a big deal, as I've never actually brought knitting over before (and no, that's not some kind of metaphor). But we both snuggled in, and it was comfortable. That's the only way to describe it. Until his dog made things a little awkward....

She shoved her snout right into my yarn bag in inhaled so deeply I thought we were going to be pulling strings out of her nose. What a weird dog. The cats love the yarn. They sit on it and bat it around, but they certainly don't try to inhale it. To this dog, orange wool-blend yarn is like crack, and she couldn't get enough. She just sat at my feet and stared intently at my hands, watching every little move I made. Very unnerving, I tell you.

This is probably why I'm a cat person.

As My Life Flashed Before My Eyes....

Last night I was talking on my cell as I got out of my car, which I had parked in my driveway, and I nearly died. OK, fine. That might be a little dramatic, but I could have injured SOMETHING.

I slipped on a patch of ice wearing heels. I told the person I was talking to, "just to let you know, I almost died right then." Their reply, "Huh." Which I took to be 'Huh, wow your delivery was pretty calm, I don't know if I can take that seriously.'

And that could be the end of my little story, but of course, it is not. I slipped on the same effin spot this morning. Only I wasn't talking to anybody at the time, so now I feel the need to tell the story to the whole Internets. I think I pulled my core. (As opposed to two weeks ago when I BROKE my core while shoveling my driveway.) This slip was a bigger slip than last night, I think I might have exclaimed. Something along the lines of, "AIiiIkkgGkkkhhh...unhh"

I just picture my reclusive neighbor watching me out the window (as I imagine she often does, I'm fairly entertaining in my klutzy-ness), and giggling between puffs on her Virgina Slims. And I thought in that moment, please don't let me go out like this.

And the little incident sort of solidified what I've been thinking about lately. That is, I need to move. My lease is up at the end of March, and I just didn't want to think about moving again. Ever. In fact, I remember very clearly, stating as I moved the last box into the house nearly a year ago, "I AM NEVER MOVING AGAIN."

But with all the Spiders, the insanely expensive heating bill I got last month, and now the latest of being nearly brained by the driveway...I think maybe it's time this house and I parted ways. For my own continued existence.....