I get paid to read books!

At least, that's how my 11-year-old granddaughter expressed her excitement when I told her that I'm editing books for Jacqueline Druga.

I've loved post-apocalyptic books since I read Alas, Babylon then On the Beach and Level 7 when I was 14 or 15.  I read them over and over until the nuclear nightmares became so unbearable that I finally stopped reading p-a and sci-fi until I was in my 30s.

Growing up in the late 1950s and 60s did a number on my psyche.  One of the first big events that I remember, besides the space shots and Kennedy's election, is the Cuban Missile Crisis.  For some reason that really affected me deeply even though I didn't know much about what was going on.  We lived across the street to the entrance to what was then Byrd Airport (now Richmond International Airport) so planes went over at all hours.  Now that I frequently fly into that airport from Key West I realize that we lived right in the flight path.  About the only thing that I remember from the Cuban Missile Crisis is seeing odd-looking planes flying overhead and telling my sister that it was Cubans coming to bomb us.  Heh heh.  I was so scared that I reassured myself by scaring the crap out of her.  Nice of me.

(Mom has told us recently that Air Force One used to fly into and out of Byrd Airport to practice take-offs and landings.  I don't remember anything about that, either.)

Betty remembers the hide-under-your-desk drills at Sandston Elementary School.  I don't.  I guess I've blocked them out of my brain entirely; denial is a lovely state of mind.  She remembers bus drills, too, and I don't remember those.  The only thing that I remember Mom or Dad saying anything at all about the era is Dad saying something about sit on the floor, put your head on your knees and kiss your ass goodbye.  Maybe he didn't actually say "ass" back then, but I can hear him say it like it was yesterday.

Then there was the Cold War.  More talk about nuking Russia or them nuking us.  But eventually I found a few more good post-apocalyptic books and started reading them again.  I found my original paperback copy of Level 7 (not nearly as good as I'd remembered it) and bought new copies of Alas, Babylon and On the Beach.  When my nephew, a very smart young man who made straight As, was supposed to read On the Beach as part of his English class, I answered the worksheet questions on it for him.  Back then I could remember stuff like that.  You see, he prided himself on getting through high school without ever reading one of the assigned books.....  He did well on the test for that one, too :)

But it's hard to find paper copies of many post-apocalyptic books.  Once I'd read those I mentioned above and Lucifer's Hammer and The Stand, there really wasn't much left.  Occasionally I'd come across a new one (at least, new to me) and devour it.  But it was frustrating; I love the genre so much (I prefer nuclear holocausts to zombie ones) and there just weren't enough available.

Along came the internet.  I was able to read about more books and put them on my want list, but I couldn't find them in the bookstores I went to.  Once in a great while I'd come across one at a flea market or used book store, but that was rare.  Then--ta da!  Amazon.com arrived.  I could search for and keep a running wish list of the books I wanted online.  Once in a while I could afford to order a few.  It was so cool to be able to read more and more of these p-a books.

Then, the Gods of Amazon smiled down on me and gave us the Kindle.  And e-books.  Lots and lots and LOTS of e-books.  I started a collection of e-books on Kindle for PC long before I bought my Kindle after Christmas last year.  I was hesitant to get a Kindle; I've always loved reading and actually owning copies of the books I love.  But suddenly I wanted one; I don't know what "kindled" that desire, but I bought one.

And then I found the Amazon forums with discussions about all kinds of subjects--and there's a whole section devoted to post-apocalyptic fiction.  People recommended books and authors to each other.  I'd put 'em on my wish list and, when I could, buy them.  Two things that I like best about Kindle:  It's so easy to carry over 1500 books in my purse (my K3 will hold 3500!), and there are so many free and inexpensive books available.  And many of them are in the p-a genre.

I got to know a few ladies in the p-a forums.  One, Liz, seemed to like the same things I do, so when she recommended a book or author, I checked it out.  Once Kindle allowed loaning of e-books, she sent me some that she liked, and some she didn't (she wanted my opinion on them).  She's my age, is disabled and on a tight budget, but she bought e-books.

Long about May of this year Liz recommended Jackie Druga's Dust to me.  I had to wait a couple of weeks until I could buy it, but once I got it, I devoured it.  I was amazed at how well Jackie writes about such a dark subject as nuclear annihilation.  She researched it well (turns out she's very much a prepper in that department), but what really hit home with me is Jo, the protagonist.  She's a very strong woman who was determined that her circle of friends would live through a nuclear attack; she made lists of things they needed to be aware of, gave them prepper backpacks for Christmas, and they decided that they'd meet at her house if they could after the bombs went off, then eventually would leave for a cabin deep in the woods.  I won't give away any more of the story; just trust me that it's a lot more interesting than my description sounds.

I was so taken with the book that I reviewed it on Amazon, and Jackie contacted me.  She was blown away that Liz and I loved the book so much that we recommended it to others and went on to read her other books.  The one problem that Liz and I had with this and subsequent books of Jackie's is that they needed editing.  Jackie writes beautiful stories; they're about the human connections, not just the mechanics of an apocalyptic event, but she has problems with grammar, sentence structure, spelling of homonyms, etc.  She originally asked Liz to beta-read some of her books, but Liz is in poor health and decided that it wasn't fair to Jackie to promise to do so, so she suggested me.  I was absolutely thrilled!  This is the kind of dream job I've always wanted!

The first book that Jackie asked me to edit (I call it edit, but I don't think that's the proper word for what I do) was The Flu, which as you can guess, is about a pandemic that sweeps the world.  It was the second book of hers that I'd read and I'd loved it even more than Dust.  The characters in this one became friends that I loved (mostly), and when I got to the end of it, I cried for the last three chapters.  I did not see that end coming.  It was heartbreaking, and the novel and characters have stayed with me for over 5 months now.  I knew that I'd cry as I was editing it and really really dreaded getting to the end of it.  I warned Tom that I'd cry; I talked about it for days in advance.  And I cried; I must have gone through half a box of tissues, blowing my nose and wiping my eyes over and over.  When I finished the last page, I told Tom that I was so glad that it was over.  His comment?  "You didn't cry.  You thought you would."  I stared at him.  Turns out he thought my allergies were bad that night.......... ;)

After I started working on The Flu, Jackie was contacted by ***** Press (I won't link to them here because I'm miffed with them) (yes, I'm petty that way) and signed a contract for The Flu and for first shot at her next p-a book.  She insisted that I stay on as editor and they agreed.  ***** released The Flu on November 9 but has not done one thing to promote it.  Jackie thinks that maybe they're waiting for the paperback to be ready.  But they've announced several other books that they've released in the last month, on Facebook, yet they haven't made one mention of hers.  That irritates the shit out of me.  I've read books by one other of their authors, Craig DiLouie, who writes zombie apocalypse novels.  Normally I won't read z-a, but his are really good.  They promote the hell out of Craig, yet they haven't said a word about Jackie.

So I'm taking it upon myself to push Jackie's novels.  I'm in the middle of editing the 5th book for her since August; I'd already read Dust and The Flu; these others are new(er); the one I'm currently working on she just finished last month.  I've loved everything that I've read of hers, and fortunately for me she's a very prolific author.  I'm guessing that she's written and self-published about 50 books; I'm still working my way through them.

If you like this genre, give The Flu and Dust a try.  Dust just went up on Amazon a day or two ago and is already selling.  It had already been on Amazon for some time; this is the newly-edited version.  Another one, Beyond Fear (vampires!!!) will go up soon.  Again, she writes great characters and such good stories.  They aren't expensive e-books, $2.99-4.99; if you're familiar with e-books you know that best-sellers and top names go for $9.99 and up.  I think that Stephen King's new novel is $16 in the e-edition.  I won't pay that.  I've only paid $10 a few times.  Jackie's books are a bargain--and they're GOOD.

I'm making a small percentage of her sales, but I don't care about the money.  I'm getting to read really good books for free--and getting paid to do it :)

Electric Barracuda

Promo video for Tim Dorsey's new book, Electric Barracuda. I'm at 1:46.

My mom and dad are at *my place in the Keys* and I'm not

Sucks to be me right now, huh?

Mom and Dad are spending a week at The Cat House with Tom. Dad's a Renaissance Man and can do anything. At 80 he's more active and productive than I am. And he looks younger than I do.

Dad and Tom are building walls, from what I gather from the daily (sometimes hourly) phone calls. They're building a wall between (I think) the master bedroom and its closet. It already had a wall, but I want a pocket door in it to save space, so they've worked on that. They've made soffits for the air conditioning ductwork. They're going to make a closet in the upstairs bedroom. There are no closets upstairs; lots of space under the eaves of the house, but the ceiling is so low in those that only "short" things can be hung. Where did the people who used to live there put all their stuff?

(Actually, Tom found a big stack of shirts left in one of them. And a lot of junk was just tossed into the backyard and under the house.)

Mom has been cleaning windows and sweeping. Those floors catch and hold onto dirt and dust; they're down to the subflooring and it's not in good shape. The cats shed enough to create entire new cats.

On Monday they'll head up to their favorite vacation spot near Daytona and spend two weeks there with some of their friends. It used to be a little 40s or 50s Mom and Pop-style motel right between A1A and the ocean. Maybe 10 rooms. It's been sold several times in the last few years for increasingly insane amounts of money and will eventually be razed and turned into luxury condos. I hate to see the remaining pieces of Old Florida sold off and gone forever.

We first went to Florida in 1955 or '56, after Dad's parents, sister, and brother-in-law moved to Miami. I vaguely remember that first trip. I was convinced that the ocean was in Muck and Poppa's back yard and I was terribly disappointed when it wasn't. That trip is when my life-long love affair with Florida started.

We visited them every summer for two weeks. At that time we didn't have any friends whose families took vacations anywhere, much less 1000 miles south. We spent most of the time inside--they had air conditioning. We'd play in the yard, go to the beach a couple of times (Dad absolutley hates getting sand in the car), go shopping some (I mean, wow, they had a K-Mart back when there were none up here!), eat at the very old McDonald's nearby, take walks in the evening, play with the colorful snails that crawled up the shady side of the house.

At least once each trip, we'd all pile into the car and take a ride through the Everglades (mosquitos are BAD in the summer; I can't wait to go in the winter) or out to the (then) new Miami airport, or, once, to Key West. I was five that year, I think. I was not at all interested in the gorgeous water, palm trees, and other sights; all I remember is that I was really really thirsty, and I remember bumping across countless bridges. When we got to Key West, it stunk of fish. There'd been a recent fish-kill; we didn't want to stay long. I remember nothing else of the island.

And now I'm going to live 30 miles from it. I still don't quite believe it.

Welcome to the Dark Side, Granddaughter

Last night, during a marathon call, my oldest granddaughter brought up Twilight. (She knows me so well.) She's never exhibited any curiosity about the book or movie; on the contrary, she couldn't be less interested. Last year she was irritated because her teacher was in love with the series and talked about it a lot in class. This time, though, she had some questions.

"Lots" of girls in her class are reading the series. She could even name three of the four books. She doesn't have a clue what Twilight Girl's name actually is, but she wanted to know if TG ever gets bit and turned into a vampire. I said, "Do you really want to know?" "Yes!" "But if you ever decide to read the books, it's spoiled for you." "I'm not going to read them. Does she turn into a vampire?" So I told her yes, she does.

"Which book?" "Breaking Dawn, the fourth and last book." "So why are all these books named night names? What do they have to do with anything?" I told her that I'd read about them but didn't remember what I'd read (note to self: research this), but I thought that they all have to do with the fact that, in other vampire stories, vampires couldn't go outside during the day because they'd burn to ashes if the sun touched them. In the Twilight series, that's not the case, because they can go outside any time they want to, but their skin sparkles in the sun, so people would know something weird was going on. And no one could know that there are real vampires.

Also, I told her, the names of the books seem to represent the story's progression, with Twilight being the one where Bella (or Twilight Girl) meets Twilight Boy and they fall in love. In New Moon, they're separated by Edward's misguided but heartfelt belief that Bella is better off, and safer, without him, and she goes into a deep depression, represented by the darkness of night during a new moon.

"What about Eclipse? Isn't that about the sun?" Well, it can be, but here it's the bright shining ring of moon around the dark shadow the sun throws onto it, representing the reunion of Bella and Edward and their happiness. And Breaking Dawn is the book that ends the story, with everything coming together and the dark of night giving way to the bright sunrise.

Damn. If I do say so myself, I'm impressed. I just pulled all of that out of my ass without any thought. It may be totally off-course, but it really does sound good.

I told A that I'll send her Twilight if she ever wants to read it; I have no problem with a 10-year-old reading the first three books in the series. (I told her she can't read Breaking Dawn until she's 16, which may have been the wrong thing to say.) She said she doesn't want to read it since I can tell her all about it.

But today I ordered Twilight from Amazon to be delivered to her house with the note: "A, you don't have to read this book now, or ever, if you don't want to. I've had so much fun talking to you about it that I want you to have a copy of one of my favorite books." Maybe eventually she'll read it, maybe not. It doesn't matter.





I may or may not have also ordered New Moon the Movie and a Pocket Edward™. We won't discuss that.

*snork*

So. If you like to laugh until you cry and make the very kind people you work with think that you just got bad news because you're quietly shaking and tears are running down your face and you have to blow your nose before you can say anything,



then you have to read this.

Do yourself a favor and wear Depends, okay?

Quick update

Two weeks in Florida, lovely (if somewhat cooler than usual) weather, work around The Cat House, lots of FaceBook time on the Crack (and utter irritation for several days when the Crackberry network was down and no one had told me about it) (by no one I mean RIM, of course, the people who own the company), walks around our new neighborhood, observing the wildlife, playing with grandkids, floating in a warm pool on Christmas night, three days of driving seven hours a day each way (my butt cheek gets numb, okay?), living in our place in the Keys, having to leave and come home, then the little surprise of finding 6" of ice and snow on our driveway in WV, two weeks after it snowed and over a week since a minor ice storm, not being able to drive up the driveway, cracking the front bumper of our less than 2-months-old Prius, getting stuck and having to walk uphill to the house in the dark in the snow and ice and 10 degree temperature with 40 mph winds while wearing clogs because one doesn't need real shoes in Florida even in the winter with no depth perception in the dark and faulty balance on a smooth surface on a sunny day while trying to balance several large tote bags on my shoulders and falling down and losing a clog while screaming "WHY ME?" (or something like that only a lot more profane) at the cold stars as I sat on the ice without one shoe not being able to balance enough to stand up to look for the damn shoe and Zippy had run ahead up to the house and was patiently barking at the front door for someone to let him into the nice warm house while I was crying and snotting without any tissues halfway up the driveway thinking that I was going to die within sight of my own house and no one would ever find me and a bear might eat my barely-frozen carcass and it's all because I can't move to Florida until we sell our house in WV or I get a good-paying job in Florida which isn't likely this time of year (either one) then the next morning I called the guy with the tow truck who came after daylight to pull the car out of the ditch (where I almost took out the side of the new car by getting this---------->close to a huge bolt on a fence post) then dragged my crap back down to the car after deciding that I was not going back to that house until the spring thaw or June, whichever comes first then still being stuck in the damn driveway about 6' from the actual road and spending half an hour trying to get the car that six feet while getting this------->close to the For Sale sign in the ditch by the road until a nice man took pity on me and pulled me out of the driveway and I will not go back to WV until I'm sure that I can make it up that damned driveway and last night my shoulder muscle spasmed and Betty had to help me to bed because it was agonizing to move and it hurt so bad I didn't sleep well even after taking some percocet or something like that so today I went to the doctor who prescribed a muscle relaxant that shouldn't make me dopey but sort of has so I'm going to go to Betty's house and take another one and see if I can sleep.

*deep breath*

Zippy and I are living with Betty for a while.

I wuz tagged

By my dear friend, Deedee, I was tagged for this meme. I'm not going to tag anyone because I've got to hurry and finish packing/getting things ready (meaning my yarn and needles) to leave in the morning. Three weeks. I won't be home till the end of July.

The Rules: "The rules of the game get posted at the beginning. Each player answers the questions about themselves. At the end of the post, the player then tags five people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs, leaving them a comment about being tagged, inviting them to read your blog. Let the person who tagged you know when you've posted your answers."

What was I doing ten years ago? Can I even remember that far back? Maybe moving from one townhouse to another? I hate moving. No grandkids yet, not even thinking of any. I didn't know I wanted them till my daughter told me she was pregnant, which was 9 years ago in May. I don't think I'd started knitting yet. I read a lot and dealt with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, had 3 dogs (all of whom are gone today) who kept me going throughout my illness. Without them, I don't think I'd have gotten out of bed most days. I certainly didn't think I'd be married now!

What are five things on my to-do list for today? 1) finish packing for 3 weeks of vacation. One carryon, honest. With a tote bag for my book, camera, and several easy knitting projects. Almost finished with this one. Except the tote. That requires more thought.
2) Update my blog. 3) Take photos off this laptop and put onto backup drive. 4) Talk to my daughter when she's seen her breast surgeon. (turns out the appointment is on Wednesday.) 5) Download photos from camera. Oh well.

What are some snacks I enjoy? buttered popcorn, potato chips, m&ms, just about anything that's not good for me. I allow myself 15 m&ms each evening, don't eat potato chips, and can only have buttered popcorn on weekends. And today I tried on some pants that didn't fit me a month ago, and they fit!!! I haven't weighed in two weeks, but something must be working.

Oh, and wine. Red wine with anything.

What would I do if I was to become a billionaire? All of my family and Tom's would have everything they needed for the rest of their lives; I'd contribute a lot of it to animal rescues; travel travel travel; retire in Florida and California and maybe France and Germany for a while; give money to fight neuroblastoma (just a few million would really get it going well); fly anywhere we wanted on a moment's notice and not worry about how much it costs; never live in a cold place again. Ever. And I'd buy the books I loved as a child, and not worry that one of them costs $450.

And I'd pay Last Train Home to play at our house four times a year. What the heck, six times. And to fly up Steve Wedemeyer to play with them each time, along with Tom Mason, and both of the steel guitar players, and anyone else they wanted to bring with them.

Where are the places I have lived? Virginia and West Virginia.

What are the jobs I have had? Mommy, teaching assistant for 26 years, which I hope will turn into school secretary in August (and it looks good!!!), yarn technician. But I think I got fired from that one two weeks ago.

So! Back to laundry!

Back to reality

You know, real life isn't so hard to deal with when it's warm and all of summer is ahead. I had a great time in Orlando with my daughter, J, and her family. A totally unexpected, unplanned week in Florida was just what I needed. I think that J appreciates that I flew down so quickly after she saw the doctors, and I appreciate the school that I work for, for letting me go to my daughter when I needed to.

So I'll work all of June. I did that last year, so it's no big deal. I won't get much extra pay since I have to work off those 5 days I missed last week, and probably a couple of sick days, but I don't mind. It's so nice to work here when everyone's gone (except the summer school people, but they won't be in this hall too much); we got so much done after school was out last year.

And it is hot; yesterday was 96 at one point. But it wasn't as humid, and it felt good when I was outside; the school building, as I noted before, is so stinking cold all the time. Oh well. I can deal with it.

It's summer.

Statcounter and Hamburg, Germany

I love this statcounter thingy. I checked my stats today to see who's been by in the 24 hours or less since I added it.

Someone from Hamburg, Germany checked out the "House Concert" post. Our musical bud Eric Brace is in Hamburg today, so, hello, Eric! Have a wonderful time in Europe. I am so jealous; I'm ready to do some traveling far away from here.

We'll see Eric and his friend, Peter Cooper, at Ashland Coffee & Tea on May 24.

LTH will perform at the Vintage Virginia Wine Fest at Centreville, VA, on June 1. Wine and music, my favorite combination!

And Steve Wedemeyer will be with them that weekend, too. An added bonus.

What is this "house concert" thing?

I'm old. I might as well announce that up front. I am completely un-hip, un-cool, un-in-the-know. About anything.

So when Last Train Home's website (and yes, I do keep that link on my desktop so I can easily copy and paste it, thanks for asking) showed a "house concert" on their schedule, Tom and I were interested but puzzled. You see, we've been going to all of Last Train Home's shows that are within a reasonable driving distance, reasonable being within 6 hours on a weekend night. This "house concert" was in the DC area, with the note that anyone interested could email for information. DC is "within a reasonable driving distance", it was on a Friday night, so if we could be there, we'd be there.

Tom emailed Eric (Brace, lead singer and all-around-good-guy-extraoidinaire) (spellcheck tells me that last word is incorrect, but it doesn't tell me how to correct it so it stays) and Eric sent the info, giving the address and show times. It was at an actual house, people. In Chevy Chase, Maryland. Chevy Chase, a suburb of DC, is a very upscale area. Upscale is not my scale at all.

In case I haven't mentioned it before, I'm not big on social occasions. I'd just as soon go to a show where I know no one but Tom or my sister(s), so I don't have to talk to anyone else. I don't do small talk graciously. It's a real source of anxiety. Yes, I have meds for that, but Xanax and alcohol aren't supposed to be mixed, and I enjoy music with a glass of wine (red, to be exact, or inexact, as the case may be).

Tom really wanted to go to this show. I really wanted to stay home. We haven't been home for a weekend in ages and I needed some down time. I work around people all day; by the weekend, I'm worn out from having to be upbeat and polite and chatting with people.

And this "house concert" thing would definitely require being around people I don't know in a social strata that I can only gaze at from the outside and I'd have to make small talk with these people. We have nothing in common except a mutual interest in Last Train Home. It scared me to death.

I couldn't even take my knitting in with me; the act of knitting soothes my soul and allows me to feel human. I was knitting my Red Wagon socks and had gotten to the part where I had to follow a chart to make the hearts on them. I can't read charts and chit-chat at the same time, so I had to go in without my knitting, my security blanket.

This was a huge house, people. Huger than I can imagine having to clean, ever. And it was in a neighborhood, a beautiful one, of other huge houses, all perfectly landscaped, tulips and dogwoods and azaleas blooming. I so wanted to take photos, but I figured someone would call the police. It's that kind of neighborhood. Someone taking photos would have to be considered a potential thief.

By this time, people were starting to gather and go inside. We'd done a drive-by earlier and saw no one, so we figured we had plenty of time to find a quick dinner. It took a while to find a "business" area, but we found a nice little restaurant (with a very noisy bar; it was, after all, a Friday evening and something called the Nationals was playing some game on tv) and had a quick bite to eat. (I had potato skins, the first good ones I've had in years. Lots of potato, cheese, and bacon. Yes, I'm committed to losing weight. I've lost 7 pounds so far. Weekends I'm allowed to eat what I want. But that's another post.)

The house is beautifully decorated, but there are touches that women everywhere can appreciate: small toys lying under coffee tables, the gorgeous bay window in the kitchen filled with children's toys and a small table, other children's items mixed in with wedding photos and a plaster handprint of a small child. Actual people live there.

And then there's this:

That's Wilbur. He's a very large, friendly Bouvier. He's so big that even I was a little uneasy about walking right up to him and burying my head in that fluffy ruff of his. But he initiated the get-to-know-you session; he came right up to me and slobbered all over me (he must have just drank a gallon of water) and gave Tom that male-dog-to-male-human greeting, snout in the crotch. Ahh, male bonding!

That's a rather large coffee table next to him (with a little doll underneath the far right side), just for proportion.

The media room, which opened to the "deck", which was most of the back yard with lots of landscaping in the undecked areas, was set up for the show. Folding chairs (at least 40 of them) and plush sofas filled the room. The front of the room was set up for the band; they were really scrunched together, but I've seen them on smaller stages.

The two children, T and M, both beautiful and omnipresent like Wilbur, weaved through the crowd, playing with toys and talking to people (M was very tired and a little crabby, but for a 3-year-old, she managed very well), were invited to play with the band on one of their numbers. The kids had been in the formal living room next to the media room watching the band, especially Steve Wedemeyer who really gets into his guitar. M strummed that tiny guitar ferociously, occasionally raising her leg and doing some patented SW moves. It was adorable, and the kids didn't want to leave the "stage" afterward. Eric apologized to their parents for starting their kids on the road to rock and roll, and off they went.


Turned out that it wasn't as uncomfortable socially as I thought it would be. Most of the people there either work for the government or are attorneys or have other high-powered jobs, but they were pleasant to two strangers who came just for the show. Next time we do a house party, we'll take a nice bottle of wine, maybe wrapped in a hand-knitted-by-me bag, and some good beer. There was lots of food there and lots to drink.

Absolutely lovely! We might try this "house concert" thing again.

Saturday night's show

I mentioned before that we saw Bill Kirchen at AC&T on Saturday night. It was a great show, fun, lively. See if you can guess how old he is: (Not you, Tom; you know how old he is!)

He is 60!!! Tom is 62, and he looks a lot younger.

He's a really personable man, friendly, upbeat. This is Joan with us; she's my younger sister (one of 3).

Knitting content:

By the way, I'm wearing the bamboo t-top (Oat Couture, Tropical Tee, love the pattern) that I knit last year and never blocked. The side seams twist, which I don't like, but not having the motivation to block it, I just ended up wearing it and pulling it into place occasionally. It really doesn't pull that much over my boobs; it's a little loose, and by the end of the evening it was really droopy (not my boobs. I'm wearing my Soma bra.). I washed the tee in the washing machine last night (no hand-washing for me) and it came out looking a lot better. I laid it to dry and I'll see how it did tonight. I hope that takes care of the twisting seams, but I'm not counting on it.

I'm going to knit another Tropical Tee in coral bamboo, a size smaller, a couple of inches shorter, and with longer sleeves. Maybe a tiny bit of shaping at the (I wish I had a) waist. This one is knit with Southwest Trading Company's bamboo; the second will be Classic Elite Bam Boo. I'm curious to see how the two compare.

FO: I finished Joan's birthday socks this week, too late to give them to her this past weekend, but they're finally done. I started them in August of last year for her early September birthday. Now they're finished and I've cast on for a pair of (black)hearted socks in Claudia's Red Wagon colorway, all bright and springy.

Joan's socks, fini:

On to springtime with Red Wagon!

I love Google

Have you noticed the cute things that Google does on holidays, like clovers and stuff for St. Patrick's Day, to the heading "Google"? I expected something big from them yesterday, April Fool's Day, but apparently they're a lot smarter, and quieter, than I am.

I even told A, and patiently waited while she laboriously wrote www.google.com, to check it and see what cute thing they did for April 1. She was really excited about googling something.

Then I got to school and checked, and nothing. Nothing at all. I was so disappointed and hated that I'd apparently lied to my granddaughter.

But last night before I went to bed, I went to google something and there it was, in a tiny link underneath the search box. A link to Virgle, an enterprise founded by Virgin Records owner and the founders of Google, complete with application to join their venture. From Wikipedia:

"Virgle

Google announces a joint project with the Virgin Group that aims to establish a permanent human settlement on Mars (http://www.google.com/virgle/index.html). This operation has been named Project Virgle. it also includes videos of Richard Branson as well as Larry Page & Sergey Brin (The Founders of Google) on YouTube , talking about Virgle.[1] The site even includes a comedic "Application" to join in the settlement. The application includes questions like "What is your major?" A. Physics, B. First Aid, C. Engineering, or D. Guitar Hero II. After submitting the application, the site either notifies you that you are not fit for space, or that application is fine and that "all you have to do is submit your video [as a response to their video on YouTube]." The creators of Virgle wish to convey the following -- 'So long, and thanks for all the fish!'"

They didn't let me (and the world of Google fans) down. But how on Earth am I going to explain that to an 8-year-old???

The History of the Middle Finger

Sent to me by my cousin:

Well, now......here's something I never knew before, and now that
I know it, I feel compelled to send it on to my more intelligent
friends in the hope that they, too, will feel edified. Isn't history
more fun when you know something about it?

Before the Battle of Agincourt in 1415, the French, anticipating
victory over the English, proposed to cut off the middle finger of
all captured English soldiers. Without the middle finger it would
be impossible to draw the renowned English longbow and
therefore they would be incapable of fighting in the future. This
famous English longbow was made of the native English Yew
tree, and the act of drawing the longbow was known as 'plucking
the yew' (or 'pluck yew').

Much to the bewilderment of the French, the English won a major
upset and began mocking the French by waving their middle
fingers at the defeated French, saying, See, we can still pluck
yew! Since 'pluck yew' is rather difficult to say, the difficult
consonant cluster at the beginning has gradually changed to a
labiodentals fricative F', and thus the words often used in
conjunction with the one-finger-salute! It is also because of the
pheasant feathers on the arrows used with the longbow that the
symbolic gesture is known as 'giving the bird.'

And yew thought yew knew every plucking thing.

Girls?

So, what do you say? The house is perfect.

We're off!

to Parrot Jungle Island in Miami. I love that stuff! We may go to the Everglades, too, to Robert Is Here, a great fruit stand/milkshake place. Key lime milkshakes!!!

Family

We're at my cousin's hotel in the Blue Ridge Mountains of NC. Gorgeous up here, and it's so good to see family I haven't seen in 15 years and some I've never seen.

Family's the best.

Then, tomorrow morning, on to Florida!