That picture (it’s Styrax japonicus, shot in May) has nothing to do with what’s going on outside (where it is gloomy and very wet, with rain last night and still continuing. The photo is, however, part of a list built “just one more thing” by “just one more thing,” a list that is steadily nudging me Over. The. Edge.
Our S&B group was due to get together this morning at the coffee house, in the grown up section, no less. It was not to be: the last cancellation came this morning in a 6:45 email, reporting that S had doggie flu to clean up after and a trip to the vet to work in before heading out of of town. W had a conflict with Waldorf preschool home visit (Quick, hide the older sibs’ cartoon character underwear!) M’s second boy scout camping weekend in a row was looming; (Did I mention M is very pregnant?). And me: I probably should have not been going in the first place, as I have deadlines hovering as well as an honoured house guest (“HHG”), my father in law visiting all the way from England, but I was craving the stitching and the bitching, in equal measure.
The twitchier of the two cats hid upstairs for 24 hours after HHG’s arrival – and oh, how I understand: it’s shocking to me really how much a creature of habit I am, and equally, how much the intricate routine we have holds the whole show together. Yesterday, with HHG along, it was off to the library, the grocery, the camera shop (to drop off a memory stick holding that photo, for an enlargement, for a photo show); out briefly, on my own, to pick up the enlargement, drop off soccer gear for Nine’s carpool, and pick up Eleven from school. And again, with HHG, to piano, to dance class, to soccer practice (HHG stays to watch), return to dance class, return to soccer and reunite with Seven, who had gone home with a friend from school, a friend whose older brother’s soccer practice conveniently co-coincides with Nine’s, making it possible for Seven to be delivered there post-play date for me to retrieve.
And so we all watch, as Nine’s U10 girls team scrimmages with their field mates, a powerhouse crew of U12 boys, and so proud to see them hold their own. Final score was 5-1, but as the girls pointed out, last weekend those very boys had won their match 40 – nothing (absurd, but apparently true). A moral victory on the girls’ part – or one of Mason Dixon Kay’s Civ Div Wins, surely. And so home, with HHG, Eleven, Seven, Nine and three of her ecstatic teammates, eventually distributed to their various homes. Then the rain begins.
And continues all night, through the one remaining open window in the van.
Thank you for listening, virtual knitting circle that you are.
There is, in fact, knitting going on (apologies for the lack of photo evidence): I’ve started the second sleeve on the EZ baby sweater, and I cast on for a second pair of socks, after finding myself missing having the first pair on the needles. (The lace on the baby sweater still has me counting out loud, and requires way too much concentration to be a travel with me project). Joined Socktoberfest in the socks’ honor. (I’ll do my first sock story here in the next post or two.)
Oh, and just one more thing: Over the past two weeks, with D variously in London, and Boston, and Atlanta (and me working the fax and phones here), we have just about bought a house in New Hampshire. Because we are moving. From Virginia. In January. New list: snow, wool, Red Sox …