I heard it from both sides today.

Our friend Jean, Marguerite‘s mom, flew off to go visit her grandson, Marguerite’s nephew. He’s in the bishopric in the student ward where he’s finishing his doctorate.

And there, sitting in that church in Ann Arbor, was our daughter Michelle.

Jean has known Michelle since she was a year old.  Both of them had this jaw-on-the-ground moment of, What are YOU doing here?!

The answer, of course, was, finding themselves feeling very, very loved and treasured and suddenly very much at home.

An exit interview I found interesting, even if I often don’t agree with my uncle’s politics. Gotta love that secret CIA/Senate committee briefing in the secret room because Patrick Moynihan wanted it scooped on the front page the next day.

Note that my uncle’s son is helping the Democrat candidate’s campaign now that his dad is out. It’s the candidate that matters far more than the party.  Go Jim!

—————–

Update: PG&E was awarded nearly $5 million by the state three years ago specifically to replace that high-risk pipe that later blew up. PG&E did not replace it. They did, however, give that much in bonuses to their executives. And now they’re asking for money to… Yeah…

Go lawmakers go! This is the kind of thing we vote you into office FOR!

And then they grow! (Our older son, the father, being 6’9″.)

Okay, so, just to distract you from the rant below: I made great headway on a new shawl today but at one point put it down, picked up the tiny hat on the tiny needles that make my hands tingle to work on, and simply did those last few rows. I needed the satisfaction of having it done. The bluegreens are deeper (and I think prettier) in person.

Just looking at that tinyness makes the idea of our coming grandson more real. Richard looked at it and was reminiscing over newborns, holding his arms as if to cradle the little one right then and there.

We can’t wait!

Remember when I said I needed more rice bowls?  Mel and Kris answered and offered to drop by with some today so that I wouldn’t have to be out in the sun at Kings Mountain Art Fair.  They are *such* nice people; I couldn’t wait to see them.

RobinH emailed last night to say she was in town (she lives near where we used to in New Hampshire) and could she stop by?

Hey, let’s have a party!  And so it was that I got me some wonderful Mel and Kris time and then I got me some wonderful Mel and Kris and Robin time, and chocolate torte and much laughter was enjoyed by all–except, next time, Kris, I promise to bake something celiac-friendly. Does anyone have a good gluten-free cake recipe they would recommend? (Kris, if you want something other than chocolate, chime in for me, because I’m intending to put that same ganache glaze on it for you so you can finally have some.)

Robin was working on a sock and also a gorgeous green Aran that just grabbed me, and it took me a moment to figure out why my reaction to its heathery greenness was so intense: my mom had knitted just that coloration in an all-over diamond pattern for her father when I was a kid. He had wanted something formal looking, something he could wear in the halls of Congress without his suitcoat on and still be proper.

Mom couldn’t find yarn thin enough and ended up buying fingering weight in the form of–are you ready–needlepoint yarn.  Size 2 needles.  It took her a year. He wore it for decades, till he died at 95.

I watched that sweater coming to be and I adored it. I begged Mom to knit me a sweater next, and she let me pick out the yarn. And of course I wanted it in that pattern.

Worsted weight and much bigger needles and much faster, but yes, she did.  Now that I know what I asked of her…!

Mel and Kris headed out to Capitola for their next show.

I had to laugh, though, when Richard came up to the front door and a woman not his wife cheerfully pulled it open for him with a grin of Hi you live here don’t you.

Remember when I said I was researching treadmills? Ruth, whom I usually only get to see at Stitches every February, blew me away by offering hers.

Today, then, was the day.  Having gotten the master cylinder crisis already over with and the car okayed by my mechanic, my husband took the back seats out, mine being the car that was big enough, and we drove it to a place Far, Far Away.  (Shrek-and-see Deutsch?)

Where Ruth picked out a shawl and got a chocolate torte (frozen beforehand to be safe) and made us lunch and her son helped load the thing up for us. Hardly a fair trade.

“We have to take pictures for Chan.”

You’re right, we do.

She wanted me to model her shawl. Well, okay, blues with blue.

Never hand the husband the camera while teasing him.

Dear, wait–okay, could you take another one?  I think you got me at a bad moment. (As in, I *know* you did.)

“But the battery’s almost dead!”

I should have said, And we would need that battery for… what?…before we got home?

Oh. Right. Got to show those Central Valley tomato trucks, where you wonder about the ones at the bottom of that mound–now *there’s* a store-bought tomato for you! We tried to get closer, but there was a traffic jam and just no way to pass nor ketchup to it.

In Heinz-sight, it was probably for the jest, though.

(And yes, we did crank up that treadmill fast enough to flip me off the back, just to see if we could. But I’m ketchingup quickly.)

Thank you, Ruth!!!

Funky computer glitch. Many thanks to the resident geek who saved the day-ta daah, and it is quarter to midnight.  So this is it for tonight.

As long as I keep knitting my hands aren’t getting the ice cream out of the freezer.

Nor the raspberry sorbet that would go so well with that vanilla.

Just another row.

Go ice my hands.

Yeah I hear you guys yes I could use the calories but he shouldn’t. No I won’t sneak it past him; if I get some, he gets some. Fair’s fair.

Put icepack back. Ignore pleading freezer contents.

Do another row.

Raspberries are healthyyy.

I’m not *listening*!

Calcium is healthyyyyyy. Makes you grow big and–oh wait.  You’re right.  6’8″ might be enough.

Just another row.

Just another half a row while they thaw enough to serve–if I’m going to do anything painful on the hands it is not going to be serving up rigid calories. It can wait. *Sssssh, you guys.* This project can’t.

Another row just because I’m an addict that way.

Eat (and share).  Gotta build up my strength for these knitting marathons, y’know.

At 1 am, not sleeping, I got up and walked towards the light brightening up the room from under the door. Hey you–what else can I do to help?

She sent me to bed. An hour later, she went too.

We all got up at dark o’clock for Oakland Airport across the Bay and the upper edge of the sun just started to appear over the eastern ridges a little before we got to our exit.

One very tired Michelle threw her arms around me with a fervent “I love you, Mom!” as I got out at the curb a moment for that.  It was so early.  The place was not crowded; Richard had pulled in at the end of the airline’s lineup, a bit of a distance from the skycaps, and as a matter of fact it looked like it was the only airline gathering passengers at that hour.

Michelle in her fatigue tried to get her three rolling suitcases going towards those skycaps. The littlest kept flipping on her.  Maybe she could stack them. Then she had twice the flipping.  This just isn’t working!  I said to Richard as I got back out again, You may have to circle around; he, affirming my choice, said, Sure.

The traffic control guy nodded his approval at my helping her in her struggle, I was told afterwards, and together we rolled those suitcases to where she needed them to go.  I turned, expecting to see the Prius gone, but no; there he was still.

She and we had been silently wished Godspeed on our way by a man wearing bright traffic stripes who knew travel.

Lisa, bless her, picked her up at the other end.

We got home in time to take a nap before that early meeting of his.

What I said to LauraN after her daughter’s comment was, beats serpent-dip-it-thusly finding new uses for a fondue pot.

And on that quick note, I’ll go back to helping Michelle with her last-minute packing. Like covering up her lemon bars, finding her another shipping box, wrapping her cinnamon rolls carefully for eating on the way to the airport, finding another box, putting away her leftover baby bok choy tomato soup, helping her finish her homemade dark-chocolate nutella she wants me to have, making sure she has cocoa for her hot chocolate and don’t forget your mug, and picking and eating the first homegrown tomato (which needed another day or two but it was share it now or never), a little Durkees sauce on our three carefully carved pieces.

Go Blue! It’s going to be very, very quiet after tomorrow.  She made sure we wouldn’t starve.

So I had all these things I was going to do today, and one was a trek to the outlets in Gilroy an hour+ away to look for warmer clothes for the daughter about to need them.  On a whim, I threw a small knitting project in my purse, feeling a little silly but you never know.  On another whim, I said I’d drive  and Michelle went, Oh! I thought I was going to. Sure, and how about I do it on the way back?

Sure!

Which is why a more experienced driver was at the wheel and the other driver got to learn new things without having to make any decisions in the moment.

Heavy traffic, lots of braking ahead, I was slowing down–when suddenly the brakes felt dead. Boom just like that.  My car is old but well maintained but oh well.  I was sure I was going to slam into the guy up there ahead of me, but no, the brakes actually worked even if they didn’t feel like it while I was pushing as hard as I could. Thank heavens!

I was in the next-to-left lane and there was an exit just ahead. I managed to get over several lanes and the traffic just opened up for me when I turned on my signal, how in that mess, I don’t know, thank you everybody and somehow it worked without all the things that could have happened happening.

Off. I got far enough down the ramp to where there was, for whatever reason, a stretch of suddenly cleared-off pavement in the margin, not much longer than one car’s length. I took it.   Before and after that point, the breakdown lane was all covered in dry tinderbrush that believe me you do not want to touch with a hot car in a California summer.

And that’s when I saw the smoke.  Just a little, then pouring out from under the hood on the right.  Please don’t blow up on us.  Just please don’t blow up on us.  (I flashbacked: I once saw a car with its engine on fire shooting massive flames fifteen feet high and it was three blocks from my house: the driver had pulled over right under a very dried-out olive tree. In front of a gas station.  I thought, flashback, you are not helping me here.  Shut up. It shut up.)

Meantime, behind us, people were speeding and cutting over the line on the offramp, seeing us and veering back into their lane and I was glad for every inch away from them we had–and very glad to be off that freeway!

Where, while we waited for the tow, grateful for cellphones, we saw a fire truck and then an ambulance making their way forward as the traffic started to back up past that point.  Someone was having a way worse day than we were. Gratitude check there.

AAA towed us to the nearest AAA-approved garage.  While I gave the owner our contact information, the tow driver quietly said to Michelle, This is NOT a good end of town.  Would you like me to drop you two off at Denny’s to wait for your ride home?

I almost hugged the guy. I did hug Richard later.

A shout out to KatherineL, who offered to rescue us when we couldn’t reach Richard at first. Thank you *so* much.

Coming home, trying not to feel weird about leaving my car to an unknown fate in the hands of strangers, Richard had a doctor’s appointment he was only going to make to on time now if he could go in the carpool lane.  We swung by home, let Michelle mercifully out, and I went with him.  He told me I didn’t have to, he could risk it if I wanted to get out too; I told him, You rescued me; I rescue you. It’s only fair.

And I was so glad I had that little knitting project.  My coming grandson’s little hat finally got all but the decreasing done while I waited. I think I really needed that.

And yet–Michelle and I were talking afterwards and we were both saying, You know? For all that that could have been, that was as pleasant as it could possibly have been under the circumstances. The tow truck driver was a sweetheart, the garage owner seemed a decent type, KatherineL was ready to run right there, Richard enjoyed the pumpkin pie piece I bought him to go while waiting at Denny’s. It could all have been so much worse.  We got off easy, we really did.

At least someone’s going to be warmer because of that trip!

(Actually, I should have positioned those in an oval and captioned it, “Braaaaaaains…”)

So I had another bright-eyed idea on that same endless project, with the result that I was late for Purlescence because I ended up frogging four rows x 434 stitches, tinking that last one carefully stitch by stitch back onto the needles.  Slow way no how was I going to leave that mess in the middle, stranded.

And then I had to leave Knit Night less than an hour later because I had to pick up my husband at the airport. But in between!

I’d brought the unrepentant wool with me and I never got to it. (Funny how that was probably going to happen anyway.) I got saved by Susan, if I heard her name right, from Abstract Fiber.

She was there with samples.  There were projects made–oh, man, were they gorgeous! And she had a large bag full of sample-size skeins.

“Take some!” Gigi and Jasmin and Pamela urged.

How much are they?

“They’re free!”

Since when… okay, why? Alright, I’ll take one. And I picked out a few and tried to decide which, while they explained that they’d already chosen a whole bunch and that Abstract Fiber does not sell skeins with knots: so if they come across one, snip right there, you’re out of here. Eventually they have enough of those that they give them away as samples.

I’ll take one. I assume it’s one per customer. (That got me a lot of, Nah…!)

They kept egging me on. I kept saying, but…! Here, you, did you get to see them yet? And you over there? I want you to pick out all you’d like, I don’t want to hog all the purples or the anythings.

Jasmin dumped the whole bag out for everyone so it would be easier to see. I was assured it was not the first time that evening; I’d just come in late.

The end result was, I said I was going to choose some and put the rest back, that this mound was embarrassing–and then I turned my head for one second after boxes of regular skeins went past, to go ask about those because I really really like Artfibers yarns, and Gigi madly and gleefully stuffed miniskeins in my knitting bag behind me. (There were way more than those still left, honest.)

I was stumped when they grinned, “So what are you going to do with them all?” Uhbuhduhbuhduh. I dunno, but I’m sure going to have fun finding out!

(Burnside Bridge. I LOVE their Burnside Bridge colorway, always have. Look what followed me home too!)

I have a ton of work to do to justify all that woolly greed. And if you too love Artfibers and are in the area, Purlescence in Sunnyvale stocks them.

Oh. Yes. Hubby is home (yay!)  I managed to wait a whole half hour after we walked in the door, showing that of course my priorities are straight, why would you ever wonder, before I went and balled up that first Burnside.

And one last thing, one non sequitur to top off the evening: Michelle is madly and suddenly in need of laptop shopping. She found one with lots of features, except for one: it’s apparently put out by a videogame company with their name emblazoned across the top, and as she put it, “I have my pride!”

I offered to knit it a tattoo to cover it over.

“Nice try, Mom.”

In anticipation of our own nest about to empty: Veer, the baby peregrine tiercel (male) hatched last year at City Hall, has clearly found and established his personal space, having been found there, repeatedly.  Although he won’t officially be a mature adult till next spring, his adult featheration is pretty much in–and he has a falcon (technical term for female) hanging out with him these days. Look at that lovely white line over her beak. Just like his mom’s, only a bit poofier, even shaped like knit stitches across a row; ya gotta love it. (His father’s is dark all the way down.)

I guess it’s official: everybody’s into knitting now!

Kyle and his wife and small children were here visiting today from the Boston area.  His is still one of my favorite stories ever. We caught up a bit, and I got his tired new babe-in-arms to grin and play peek a boo and to start to giggle. Success!  It was so good to see them.

A total non sequitor, but, I haven’t seen a possum in our yard since we cut down our date palm years ago.  Brought back memories.  But there was one on the back patio tonight and it ambled away at the sight of me, sniffing at the birdseed can and then hunkering in a corner behind the earthquake-supplies larger trashcan; I called out to Michelle. Hey! You want to see a possum?!

She came, but in the dark it was hard to tell where it had gone off to. I went out there in my stocking feet (not handknit), thinking one should only be so stupid about this (have you seen the teeth on those things?), camera in hand, and hoped the flash would find it for her and me both. Flash flash flash. Or if nothing else it would discourage it from staying.

Next time.  And surely there will be one.

Meantime, I pulled up the tight-fitting handle over the lid on the birdseed to lock it shut for the first time in a long time.

B R R R R R I N G!

88, 89, 90,

B R R R R R I N G!

91, he’s home ninety- too, 93,

B R R R R R I N G!

94, 95, 96…

He pops his head around the corner a moment later. “It was for you.”

“I was counting. And I was almost done.”

Ya gotta love a man whose reaction to that was to grin–he gets this knitting counting thing–and then to go tell Michelle himself over the phone what other grocery item to pick up.

Weight bearing exercise.  Steroid-induced osteoporosis.  My stationary bike, though I use it, isn’t the right tool for the job and my bum knee would prefer I be walking briskly anyway thankyoukindly.  Richard suggested something I’d actually been thinking of too, and so I was researching treadmill machines when Michelle came home.

She asked me what I was doing. I told her.

“Mom. You DON’T need more yarn!!”

Huh??

I suddenly pictured monster hanks of yarn and walking hamster-ball-style in the loop they made.  Red. Big Red Yarn. Really big.  We did the confused look/what on earth are you talking about/you DON’T, Mom! thing a few times around before she laughed, “TREADMILL! I thought you said trade mill, like, you know, maybe, some cooperative for farmers, or…!” You know, to pool their wool or something.

And then perhaps it would all come here?

Where on earth would she get an idea like that?