Houston: Marin's Mystery Hair Tour Continues

Welcome to the Four Seasons.†




Here is the living room...




...and the bedroom.‡




There is a work area for your convenience.§




A full marble bathroom...




...with fine L'Occitane bath products¶ and decorative toilet paper seals...




...along with the VERY COOL magnifying mirror with a light built right in.#




[SUMMARY: Cool is in the eye of the beholder.]

Besides the rather pedestrian accoutrements such as big, fluffy robes and slippers, the Four Seasons provides an umbrella.




Besides the rather pedestrian assortment of snacks, soft drinks and tiny bottles of liquor, the Four Seasons offers such useful items as Purell, Listerine Pocket Packs, bath salts, fussy green tea and a handy Four Seasons purse hanger.




Despite the old fashioned luxury you'd expect from the Four Seasons, there is also technological comfort.††






See the doorbell? Only the suites have doorbells. That's how you know‡‡ your next door neighbour isn't in a suite: he doesn't have a doorbell.

[SUMMARY: Competitive hotel residency.]

When you order room service from the Four Seasons, they call you by name.% They are solicitous. And when your food is ready, they call and say, "Your dinner is prepared. May I bring it to you now?

And there's an orchid in the white napkin origami surrounding your silverware.^




Yes, I did knit. And despite my hissy fit the other day, I did take a before picture of the bowl. Y'know... in the Four Seasons.




Four Seasons pencil for scale.§§




For the record, if you knit the felted bowl from Leigh Radford's "One Skein," but you bump it up to a 75-stitch cast-on, this is all the yarn you have left over from that one skein.¶¶




[SUMMARY: Still a knitblog! With terminology!]

Of course, Houston wasn't just about lounging around the Four Seasons knitting and ordering orchids from room service. Houston was about muttering, "I think you have my thtapler"@ to myself a hundred times a day and laughing like a loon.##




Also, wishing I could meet the IT guy whose desk sported these compelling items:








I think that IT guy and I could be friends. †††

And Houston was not just about lounging around the Four Seasons, not just about blogdorking a major client's office decor... Houston was also about Christmas lights:








And cranes.‡‡‡






And a decorated airport.




And 80 degrees and 112% humidity. No, I did *not* take a picture of my hair for your amusement. Macy Gray got nothin' on me.

Houston also brought the brief and subtle return of the Texas accent I acquired from ages five through ten. Don't make me mad this week -- I'm liable to "Whut in the naym of Sayam Hyoust'n are y'all doin'?" you without a second thought.

Just so's y'all know, I brought a pile of knitting stuff to the office today so I could take pictures in daylight so I could be sure to have plenty of fibre-related pictures tomorrow to show you this is still, at its heart, a knitblog.

Apparently, I'm willing to blogdork my way through any client's office.

[SUMMARY: Professionalism is our watchword here at the Rickety Blog.]


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Did I mention I was staying at the Four Seasons?

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Down comforter, down pillows, ironed sheets... televisions in both the living room and the bedroom, which was funny, 'cause the first night I settled in with my knitting in the living room, I pointed the remote at the TiVi and both TiVis came on. There were also padded hangers and cedar sachets in the closet. And spray starch. I might have mentioned I wanted to spritz spray starch around the room just because I love that crisp, fresh laundry smell of spray starch.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): And pleated for your pleasure!

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Which I'm madly in love with and it turns out they're wildly expensive. Of course. How can someone as inherently, basically, joyfully dorky as me have such expensive taste?

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): And when they do turndown service, they turn the light in the magnifying mirror on and it creates a lovely, soft glow in the bathroom and provides a nightlight so you don't bump into shit when you're navigating 600 squart feet of hotel space.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I am also in love with the dimmer switch, which is applied judiciously at turndown too. I want all my lamps to have dimmer switches.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): And, since my name is ten kinds of weird, they pronounce it four different ways throughout the course of your order. (wonky grammar intentional)

^FOOTNOTE (careted): Told you there'd be flowers in Houston. There are always flowers.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): And by "you," I mean, "me."

§§FOOTNOTE (hisssssssss): When was the last time I mentioned I stayed at the Four Seasons?

¶¶FOOTNOTE (prairie dogs): And by "you," I mean, "me." Seriously, as tight as I knit... your mileage may vary.

@FOOTNOTE (atted): For those of you scoring at home, I was *not* in Glenda's office, nor did I ever meet anyone named Glenda or see the name Glenda on a doorplate. It was a random Glenda stapler that fell under my radar like gigglefodder from heaven.

##FOOTNOTE (pint's a pound): And taking pictures of staplers. How much more dork? None. None more dork.

†††FOOTNOTE (telegraph hill): Maybe the IT guy and I should breed. Like pandas. With the soft rustle of ruffled kleenex. Nice segueway, huh? I just tied yesterday's post AND yesterday's comments in with today's post. Shouldn't I get an award or something?

‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (stitches!): There are *always* cranes.

San Diego: A Pig of Beauty

What do you think the chances are I can let these pictures pretty much speak for themselves?

[SUMMARY: Buckle up, it's going to be a chatty ride.]

First, the debarking passenger funnel at the San Diego airport. I was just fishing my blogdork camera out of my purse to take a picture of the stuff hanging from the ceiling when I heard to TSA employees talking about the decorations. Apparently, there's one woman who decorates the entire airport and she does something different every year.†

[SUMMARY: That's dedication.]




I landed about 10:30 and headed for the motel. Of course, I couldn't check in, but my cabbie‡ waited while I stored my luggage and I headed straight for the zoo.




My birds of paradise don't look like this.§




I wasn’t overly-impressed with the San Diego Zoo. Mostly, I found it big, hilly and not easy to navigate. But it was a good hike.

I think this is a case where it was a big zoo when there maybe weren't a lot of big zoos and it earned a reputation as a destination spot because it was bigger and more diverse than any other zoo in the country.

Now, it's kinda behind the times. The habitats haven't been updated to follow the trend in zoos of elaborate "authentic" habitats¶ and interactive, museumesque activities.

In the interest of full disclosure, I have to admit I'll never fully forgive the San Diego Zoo for not having a platypus. I want to see a live platypus in person before I die and I really figured San Diego was my best chance. This may be a large part of my disenchantment.

[SUMMARY: A little research could've saved a modicum of disappointment.]

I did get to see the koalas.




I have a theory that Quill (Cat for Scale) is part koala. It would explain the sleeping 18-20 hours a day and, well... just look:




There were lots of pretty flowers.#

I am mentally stuck on this as hibiscus, though I'm pretty sure the orange flowers below are actually hibiscus.

In any case, did you know this flower...




...comes from this?




And, apparently, goes to this?




[SUMMARY: They ran out of platypi, so I settled on the next best thing.]

I can't remember if Denver has pandas in its zoo, but if it does, they're certainly not as lauded as the breeding pandas of San Diego.††




We have hippos in Denver, but I really liked hippo underwater shots.




Ducks are like people.

Some are curious and want to be your friend...




...and some just ignore you and go back to sleep.




[SUMMARY: Philosophical ducks.‡‡]

The promised hibiscus. I think. I'm sure there was a time in my life when I knew what hibiscus looked like and I knew what those fuzzy pink flowers were.




[SUMMARY: Old and feeble.]

Of course, I had to find a lickable pig of my very own. I think these are fine pig specimens.




The zoo agrees.




After the zoo, I headed out to experience the joys of Balboa Park, where much of what you need culturally in San Diego is available for your one-stop shopping convenience.

In addition to flowers, I take a lot of architecture pictures. You will now be subjected to some of those.








The botanical gardens has mostly orchids and bromeliads. And these thing. I don't know what they are, but they look magical and fairy-like.




[SUMMARY: Whimsy is not dead.]

The Old Globe Theatre was staging "The Grinch Who Stole Christmas" and the courtyard was a Seussian wonderland.






I visited the Timken Museum of Art, which has primarily Christian art.

Here are saints and Holy Mother of God...




...and a calendar and a madonna and child Russian icon.




I took all these pictures, and it wasn't until I saw this...




...that I got caught and reprimanded.

"No pictures. No pictures at all in museum. Is big sign when you come in," said the man with the walrus moustache and the Russian accent.§§

And I was taking a picture of the thing on the stool because I didn't know what it was. An -ometer/-ograph of some sort, and being enmeshed in some stereotype of California, I thought maybe a seismograph.

"How interesting," I said to myself. "The museums need to know so they can move certain paintings off the walls?"

But my friend with the moustache, apparently feeling he'd been harsher than necessary in the face of my relentless agreeability and good cheer, said, "Is hydrometer. It measures moisture in air."

On the way out, I checked. I never did see a sign that said no photos.

I continued on to visit the Art Museum, the Museum of Man, the Friendship Garden, various other gardens... I walked a lot.

[SUMMARY: Vacations are rarely really about relaxing.]

I returned to the motel and checked into my room.¶¶

Everything in the bathroom was ruffled.






In fact, the kleenex sticking out of the kleenex box was also ruffled, but I had already destroyed it in the name of future blogdorkness.

See, I had peed, as I so desperately had to. When I reached for the toilet paper, I realised I should preserve the motel origami for photographic posterity, so I grabbed a kleenex instead. Just as I ripped the festive kleenex from its happy home, I realised it should probably be photographed too.

But it was too late.

Just imagine it.

But the festive folding wasn't my favourite thing in the hotel room

Oh, no. Get a load of this:##




Sunday before the wedding, I had lunch with Lyda††† and her Gorgeous and Available Engineer Brother.‡‡‡

I felt dopey as hell because I thought she lived nearby, rather than simply in the same state. I didn't realise she had to haul over county lines and drive two hours to get to me. I'm so glad I had yarn as an offering to help assuage the guilt.

Anyway... we had lunch at Andrew's on the harbour, where there are giant ants...

Lyda, an ant and GAEB.



...and turtles apparently climb trees.§§§




And there were cranes.






[SUMMARY: There are *always* cranes.¶¶¶]

My darlin' girl Jax and Dave got married at this temple.###




With red roses all 'round.




The bride was particularly artsy here.




This is the first wedding I've cried at in years. The hand ceremony (pictured here), where they each held each other's hands and said, "This is the hand of my beloved, the hand that will support me and guide me, the hand that will cradle our children and hold mine when we are old..." (totally paraphrasing), had me scrounging kleenex from my uncle.




The reception was on the top floor of an inn at Balboa Park. The view of the harbour was lovely.




Harry's wife, Isabel, gathered rose petals sprinkled on the table and made me this rose.




And there were Christmas lights.



See? I told you I'd show you the Christmas lights.

TOMORROW: Houston
FRIDAY: Knitting! (Still a knitblog!)


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Last year was snowflakes from the ceiling.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): By the way? San Diego Yellow Cab? Best. Cab company. Ever.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Granted, half of my birds of paradise are fake and the other half are a plant that's not big enough to bloom yet, but technically, my birds of paradise don't look like this.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Like the multitude of Tropical Rainforest exhibits at so many zoos, which I believe started at the Omaha Zoo.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): I came home with 600 pictures betwixt San Diego and Houston. Conservatively, I'd estimate 350 of those were flowers (including the orchid I took in the Four Seasons suite, which you'll see tomorrow,* teasetease*). You're lucky I'm not making you look at 27 different colours of hibiscus and the 60 pictures I took of a bee on a pom-pon flower. See? I *do* exercise some restraint once in awhile.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Denver breeds polar bears. Nobody is better at polar bear progeny than Denver. There's a chance the San Diego polar bears CAME from Denver. But I'm pretty San Diego has the niche market cornered on panda breeding in captivity.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Which I know y'all agree would make a great name for a band.

§§FOOTNOTE (whirled peas!): So, yes, all the photos you see there are HIGHLY ILLEGAL and I'll probably get PICKED UP BY THE FEDS for posting them. But I wanted to bring you the truth as I saw it. That's just the sort of blogresponsibility I aspire to.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (one foot in front of the other): I will spare you the story of how I managed, like I do so often it's uncanny, to be roomed amid a giant kegger taking place with about 30 people in three rooms.

##FOOTNOTE (like sand in a rathole, these are the pounds of our lives): I can't tell you how sorry I am I never got to eat any illegal pizza in San Diego. If only I'd had one more day...

†††FOOTNOTE (holy crosses, Batman!): Who is every bit as charming and lovely as you may have guessed from reading her.

‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (I think I can, I think I can...): Should that be copyrighted?

§§§FOOTNOTE (whirlpools of footnotes): Imagine my giggles when I was looking at Stacey's blog the other day and found another in this very series of sculpture. Talk about blogstalking!

¶¶¶FOOTNOTE (trio!): And if you note the very faint outline of a Christmas tree in lights on top of the building to the left of the crane in the first picture (did you get all that?), I do have a picture from my motel balcony of it lit up. You're welcome.

###FOOTNOTE (triple pound! Good grief, it's hard to be uniquely clever after awhile): Not Jewish, just a temple.

Breathe in the Healing...

...breathe out the shitfuck.

Funny related story: SIL was going to take me to the airport Tuesday morning. In order to get me there and get Tallest, Hairiest Nephew back for school, she was going to pick me up at 7:15 am.

She called around 6:45 to say THN was running a 104+ fever and was complaining of not feeling well, so she didn't think she could take me to the airport.†

I hit panic mode full-stride and began calling Dad,‡ set up a cab pick-up just in case, panicked, stubbed my toe, lost the phone, hyperventilated, used foul language...§

After I sat down for a moment, I remembered my flight was at 10:40 and I had been set to go very early, so I called the cab company and re-set the time for something more reasonable. Dad called a few minutes later and I apologised for the supersonic tenor of my voice and explained that an 8:15 pick-up would be just dandy.

[SUMMARY: Why are so many of my summaries simply, "Dork"?]

Also? I woke up like a shot at 4:30 this morning, the lightbulb over my head apparently shining too brightly for me to sleep. The piece I did for the class -- the practice needle felting piece that impressed the instructor so -- is a finished product. It is a lovely pointsettia on a white felted background.

A little light blocking, a centre for the pointsettia and some pretty framing and I'm done with the Christmas project.

[SUMMARY: *whew*]

I also found I had a before picture of the original bowl% I took at the Four Seasons,¶ tucked in amongst the shots of the doorbell and the phone in the bathroom.#

[SUMMARY: *blush* *ahem*

Dad always said, "Panic later."

Now you know... the rest of the story.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Who did kindly offer to pay for a cab, by the way. I just don't want you to think she stranded me in any way.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Who had turned his fax the night before -- and the overriding answering machine that is part-and-parcel of the fax machine -- on and couldn't understand why he was hearing the phone ring once and no more.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): You know. The usual.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): Pre-blue.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Have I mentioned I stayed at the Four Seasons?

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): I was going to say, "I'm not making this up," but I figure y'all know they put phones in fancy bathrooms and you also know by now that I am quite dork enough to make a big deal about it.

Holy.

Fucking.

Cats.

I knit a bowl for a Christmas project.

A white bowl.

A white bowl to which I was going to apply a lovely needle-felted pointsettia.

For a Christmas project.

For the family Christmas party.

This Saturday.

I put it in my special zippered pillow case, purchased special for the felting thing.

I tossed in a couple of pairs of jeans and, oh, what the hell... how 'bout this beach towel that's sitting down here?

And realised I never took a before picture.

And decided I had a good opportunity to take a during picture.

And found I had missed the zippering part of the zippered pillow case and my white bowl escaped its earthly (pillow-casely?) bond and is covered in navy blue towel schrapnel and the towel schrapnel is pretty well felted in and I tried but its apparent that even if I could get the little navy blue towel schrapnel lint balls off the white bowl it still has this blue... *sheen* it has a fine layer of blue towel schrapnel fuzzing the whole piece and after much fussing and panicked deals with God, I have now completed anger and denial and am now firmly planted in acceptance... the acceptance that I'm going to have to knit the fucking thing all over again.

Shit.

Fuck.

Shitfuck.*


*FOOTNOTE (asterisked, because I'm too demoralised to get the cool footnote marks): Name that movie.

Lunch with B&N

No, no, no... too cold, no jacket, didn't walk to the Barnes & Noble at lunch.

Instead, I indulged in the Annual Holiday B&N Online Shopping Spree.

My nephews can now go to the best colleges.

Armpit vs. Iceblind

That's Houston to Denver in one pithy phrase.

Weekend Update

It is Saturday.

I am working.

[SUMMARY: Despite the Four Seasons thing,% I plan on currying sympathy.]

Well, blogging, but at work. Y'all know. And I plan on starting back up on the work thing any minute now.

The client wanted me for two weeks,† but I couldn't swing that, so I agreed to stay for the weekend and work all day today and part of the day tomorrow.

It feels lovely, though, because all week I've been in heels and skirts and war paint and today I'm just me, Marin, in jeans and cleavage‡ and bare face. Well, and curls untamable by man, mousse§ or ponytail holder.

Last night I had a spectacular seafood dinner@ and the client drove me through River Oaks, a subdivision of architectural excess and old oil money.

I couldn't get pictures, what with not wanting to drag the client into the blogdorkness that is your dear ol' AntiM, but I can report there is a new fashion in massively expensive outdoor holiday lighting y'all& should know about.

First, let me hip you to the fact that I don't believe I have EVER travelled in December. Not beyond Cheyenne, Wyoming, in any case. Christmas lights around the world is kind of a new obsession for me.

And decorated airports.

That digression leads us directly to the set-up for this bit.

Y'all have probably seen, right in your very own cities and towns, the trend toward wrapping the entire trunk of a tree and its lower branches in lights, creating a night scene of bare fairy forest when done right.

Well, River Oaks has gone one better.

The trunks are still wrapped, and that wrapping continues to the lower branches, but now there is a fall of light from the branches. Every six inches or so, the wrap stops and the string of lights is left to dangle. Then the wrapping of the branch picks up with a whole new string of lights for another six inches and the lights hang again. Each tree looks like a weeping willow of light, a veritable waterfall-cascade-rain of light.

I lost count, but I figure a minimum of 100 string of lights for a medium-sized tree.

And in a yard the size and consistency of a forest with a budget similar to my annual income, it is breathtaking.

I have a tiny fruit tree out back by the garage...

[SUMMARY: Lights: $600. Electricity: $350. Look on neighbour's face when tiny, shared fruit tree collapses under the weight of $600 worth of twinkle lights: priceless.]

But back to my hair: have you checked the weather in Houston?^ It's 80 degrees and, I dunno... 112% humidity or some damned thing. It's like walking through a carwash with those long strips of wet felty stuff smacking you in the face with every step.

[SUMMARY: Holy fucking cats, are we¶ really talking about the weather?]

No, no, let's talk about knitting. 'Cause I've done some. The ultra super-special Family Christmas Party Project is knitted. It took me one night in the hotel room.

Now to felt and embellish.

[SUMMARY: Felt and Embellish would be good names for pet alpacas.]

I have been working madly on Brother's Father's Day$ Socks. They look a lot like socks now, and are almost ready for the Arrrgyle portion of the program.

Pray for me. End-weaving isn't my strongest suit.

[SUMMARY: KNITBLOG!]

And on another happy note, Kate texted me yesterday# to say they tracked down a yarn shop in downtown Houston, only four miles from me.

I'm pretty sure I can get there by tunnel.


%FOOTNOTE (percented): Did I mention I'm staying at the Four Seasons?

†FOOTNOTE (crossed): For those of you scoring at home, that means I'm now missing out on TWO FULL WEEKS of Four Seasons. If you're a glass half-empty person, I mean.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): What? You don't consider your cleavage part of your wardrobe?

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Moose!




@FOOTNOTE (atted): On expense account, which tastes all the sweeter.

&FOOTNOTE (ampersanded): Particularly Cheryl. It should also be noted, Cheryl, that, if you allowed far-distant travel in search of contest-winning Christmas display, I would so win after last night. But I abide by the rules...

^FOOTNOTE (careted): Because I know y'all are sitting around wondering "What's Marin doing? How's the weather where Marin is? What can I do to strengthen my spiritual bond with Marin today?"

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): And by "we," I mean, "I."

$FOOTNOTE (moneyed): *cough2007cough*

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): And used the term "emergency yarn."

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Aren't knitters the best? And the most monomaniacal?

My Living Will

Last night a friend and I were sitting in the den and I said to her,"I never want to live in a vegetative state, dependent on some machine and fluids from a bottle to keep me alive. That would be no quality of life at all. If it ever happens, just pull the plug."

So she got up, unplugged the computer, and threw out my wine.

FO in Action!

TTHFCIF

I got a picture of the Tulip in its natural habitat:



All together now: Awwwwwwww...

+12 Radiant Pants of Warming

I know it's been said, many times, many ways, but... SERIOUSLY...

Rechargable radiant heat pants.

You need to know and I'm here to help.

This Just In...

There is a Houston underground.

Seriously. Tunnels throughout most of downtown Houston with shops and restaurants and stuff. It's definitely the coolest thing I've seen in Houston so far.

Other than the Four Seasons, I mean.

Did I mention I'm staying at the Four Seasons?

Houston...

...loves the Nuggets.

Seriously, I've seen dozens of Nuggets jerseys† wandering the streets of here to two blocks from here.‡ And the Four Seasons is only a couple of blocks from where the Rockets play.

Huh. Maybe those guys in Nuggets colours really were Nuggets. Maybe they were staying at the Four Seasons with me. Ooooh... possible brush with fame.

Also, every time I see Gary Kubiak on the TiVi, I have to jump back just a little, 'cause I'll never get over him being a Bronco.§

Speaking of football, the Houstan Texans logo, like Nuggets gear, is EVERYWHERE. I note that, like Broncos fans,¶ some Texans fans don't know which direction the logo should point and it looks very odd, say, sideways on the rear window of a Suburban.

My fantasy football website is barred at this company and I must rely on the kindness of strangers% to set my team for this week. With any luck, strangers won't be my opponent this week and be tempted to trade in my running back core for Michael Vick.

[SUMMARY: I'm your dork with the sports report.]

Did I mention how lovely the weather is? And my skin is getting all pretty from this week in the not-desert climate. My hair, however, is heading# in new and exciting directions and no amount of silicone-based mousse can tame it.

[SUMMARY: Houston is opposite world.]

On the way from the airport, there was a body ornamentation barn†† with a giant billboard that said, "Tattoos! Piercings! $15."

[SUMMARY: Caught between temptation and horror once again.]

I must work now. But now you know all the important stuff about Houston.

You're welcome.



†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Tanks? Tops? Blouses?

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): The grand sum total of my Houston geography.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): For those not Bronco fans (*coughKellycough*), Gary Kubiak backed up John Elway at QB for some time, then came back to coach such luminaries as Brian Griese and Jake Plummer before achieving the head coaching job for expansion team Houston. "Luminaries," for those scoring at home, is a dry, sardonic joke.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): You may not want to get me started on people who put the Bronco logo flat on its neck like the horse is rearing, rather than on its point like the horse is running as it clearly should be. I apparently have too much time on my hands and not enough to worry about and we could be here all day while I rant and foam about that particular issue.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): Well, Brother... and it doesn't get much stranger than Brother. Except maybe Brother progeny.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Ha! Pun!

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I am neither indulging in hyperbole for the sake of humour nor am I making this up. It was a frickin' barn.

My New Superpower

To forget the name of a person as their name is being said.

Saves time later.

Hey! Over Here!

...behind the enormous flower arrangement.

The weather in Houston is *gorgeous* today -- very San Diegoesque.

San Diego, not counting the very cold and rainy Saturday I spent in San Diego, of course, which all the cabbies and the bride herself told me "never happens."

The three minutes I've spent so far in my Four Seasons room was lovely, thanks for asking, and I'm sure I'll take lots of pictures, since that's just the kind of blogdork I am.

No pictures until next week, but I'll try to peek in with an anecdote if I get a moment among all the working.

Yes, I do have a picture of lovely Lyda herveryself, so we can put to rest all those rumours that she's a myth. Gorgeous and Available Engineer Brother, too. With a giant ant.

Yep, I'm teasing so you'll come back next week after I've abandoned you for all this time.

Only 20 more knitting days until Christmas.

You're welcome.