Sky Watching

It is just too hot to knit. That is the sad and simple truth of it these days. All I can do is sit and gaze at the clouds, hoping that they will provide me with a little shade before I melt away altogether.

Since there is little to report on the Sticks 'n Strings front, why don't I do a book review instead? It's been a while since I stepped up for MotherTalk and I think I have one you might be interested in. Before I forge ahead, though, perhaps I should review the background behind these little side trips off the knitting path.

First, MotherTalk bloggers are charged with promoting books as much as they are with reviewing them. We are, to some degree, compensated for providing this service. At the very least, we receive a complimentary copy of the book being promoted. I also use the time spent on the project towards my teacher recertification credits. However, I am very careful to choose books that I feel I will be able to honestly and authentically recommend to young readers.

Secondly, my reviews are not from the parenting perspective. Instead, I discuss them using my background as a counselor, special educator and parenting resource consultant. While I've raised naught but cats and have little to offer in terms of mothering advice, I do have over twenty years of experience working with challenged readers in a variety of settings. I like to think I can provide something of use in that sense. However, I encourage parents to use their knowledge and expertise in the needs of their children when making decisions for them as young readers. No amount of professional experience can equal what a parent already knows.

That should cover the disclaimers on my end. Now...let's take a look at the book!

Daniel X

Watch The Skies

In this follow up to The Dangerous Days Of Daniel X, authors James Patterson and Ned Rust continue the story of alien hunter Daniel X. Orphaned as a very young child, Daniel must take on the job left by his parents and keep the earth safe from the threats that come from beyond the stars. Although a child by both human and alien standards, Daniel is armed with the ability to create almost anything he needs to continue working his way through the list of known trouble-makers, including replications of supportive friends and family.

This time, Daniel must stop a creature bent upon using the small town of Holliswood as the set for reality entertainment at its most horrifying. It will take all of his natural abilities, the assistance of his simulated associates, a little help from an attractive local girl and no small amount of luck to pull the plug on this made-for-alien-TV nightmare. But Daniel is more than up for the task.

The story is quickly paced, perhaps too much so for many adults. However, for young readers who struggle with longer novels or who have difficulty maintaining attention for extended periods, this is ideal. It is also appropriate for those who are sensitive to conflict driven stress and who require a quicker resolution in order to maintain a comfortable emotional level while reading.

As a character, Daniel remains as compelling and self-effacing as he first appeared in the series. One can't help but like him more for his flaws and the sense of humor he demonstrates over how they sometimes lead to failure. He seems to have grown up a bit after his experiences in the first novel. Then, I was struck by the depth of his loneliness and how he struggled with his singular nature on planet earth. This installment doesn't seem to connect strongly to the earlier events that brought Daniel to the place he is in the present and I couldn't help but wonder about that. However, focusing on the "here and now" aspect does make this more of a stand-alone book.

As always, I caution parents strongly against using "grade levels" as the sole means of determining the appropriateness of a book for their child. While it is helpful information, this is really only one piece of the puzzle and can restrict young readers if used inappropriately. I vividly remember being told by well-meaning librarians that I was "too young" to read certain books while still in first and second grade. ("Little Women?" Really???) I include reading levels to help parents make informed decisions about material, not to exclude readers. Children will often surprise us with their willingness to rise to a challenge if the story appeals enough.

I performed several informal readability tests on randomly selected passages throughout the book and the results varied greatly, ranging from mid 8th grade to early 11th. It should be noted that this process assesses only the text and not the content of the book. Lexile scores, a more comprehensive and thorough measurement, are generally not available on newer publications as it takes time to get them into the database. However, the first book is considered a 680 on the scale and I think that is a reasonable basis for comparison. Overall, I'd say that this novel falls into the category of "middle school reading." Again, I suggest you consider your own child's individual reading style and needs along with this data.

Those of us who work with children who have experienced challenges in their lives often have to be aware of the themes in the novels they are reading. Literature is a wonderful way to help children process life, but only if we are alert to possible minefields. Daniel confronts several issues that might bring up emotional reactions in some young readers. Among them, I would include:

Loss: Daniel lost his parents early and was a witness to their violent demise. This is handled very sensitively by the authors and could be a useful springboard for discussion. It could also be a painful thing for some children to read without support, especially if they have been victims of violence themselves.

Relationships: There are absolutely no overtly sexualized aspects to the book, however Daniel is a teenaged boy and experiencing the usual feelings one develops during that time. Again, this is handled very well and there is a rather charming innocence in how this character approaches the opposite sex.

Mild Violence: The very nature of the book requires that there be some physical conflict. It is certainly less graphic than other books in this genre and contextually appropriate. In addition, Daniel really does seem to try taking the high road when he can but this isn't often an option for him. Frankly, in a novel where the theme is good vs. evil, one can't help but destroy an enemy every now and again. I did not find myself overly concerned about the level of violence at any point, but sensitive children might find it to be overwhelming.

Possible Personal Agendas: PPAs are unavoidable. Who we are and what we value comes across in everything we do and writers are no exception. In fact, the best books are often those where the agenda becomes the vehicle for the plot and the author drives it along passionately. I couldn't help but wonder if there may have been some PPAs in this novel, especially around the issues of media and education. My strongest reaction, not surprisingly, was to the latter.

In two particular scenes, Daniel's "mother" must call him in as sick from school and her manner of dealing with the person who answers the phone is, at best, critical. I had a definite emotional response there. If the truth be known, my feelings were rather hurt. I've been on the receiving end of a few of those calls, the kind where you just happen to be in the main office so you decide to help out and pick up the phone then find yourself being blasted for enforcing policies you neither created nor have the power to change. And the thought of the person on the other end of the line being one of my favorite authors...ouch.

However, the research has shown clearly that comprehension is improved when the reader is actively engaged in the reading process. One of the tools authors can use to effectively engage readers is to evoke strong feelings or to cause them to remember similar circumstances. Further, this book wasn't necessarily written to meet my needs. Rather it was meant to be enjoyed by younger readers and, let's face it, what young person wouldn't be just a little proud of a mom who said the things they couldn't say to an adult?

Overall, this aspect of the book is a minor issue if, in fact, it even qualifies as that. Parents can and should use their own judgement around what may or may not be agenda-driven writing and how it fits with their own family values.

I was pleased to be able to read the second novel in the Daniel X series and believe that it is well written for its target audience. It should also be well-received by a wider readership in that it has some definite cross-genre appeal. All in all, a very good reading experience for me and one that I will definitely be sharing with my middle school classroom once school starts up in a week or so.

There you go! A nice little book review to make up for my most pathetic amount of knitting this past week. With any luck, our heat wave will break soon and I can get back to business over here. I still need to get a few things done before the first period bell rings, not the least of which being the set-up of the classroom!

Watch the skies and think good thoughts for me, 'kay?

SA

WNBP: The "I Didn't Melt" Edition

The mercury shot back up to 90 today. However, it seems that tonight is going to be cooler and that tomorrow will be more along the lines of "seasonable." In celebration of that and the fact that I did not expire in a sodden puddle of my own sweat, I launch merrily into the Wednesday Night Bullet Post!

Well...maybe I don't so much "launch merrily" as I trudge soggily, but you get the idea.

*Everyone will be pleased to know that I finally made it back to Chicks With Sticks last night, thus resuming the proper summer schedule of activities.

*Of course, school is soon to start and this summer schedule will mean nothing just like it does ten months out of the year, but I still feel like it was a good thing to do.

*They have air conditioning there.

*I almost didn't go to the Farmer's Market today. It was kind of hot...

*Have I mentioned that in the last thirty seconds or so?

*But, since I'm all about the schedule and the routine these days, I ventured out into the hot shopping center parking lot in order that my crisper might be filled with veggie goodness.

Basil, carrots, zucchini, peppers, tomatoes, garlic and the most beautiful baby 'taters I ever did see!

*I didn't get to chat with The Guy Who Has The Little Stand At The End And Whom I Think I Might Be Dating But Who Really Knows Anymore?

*He was busy dealing with the tourists.

*Out-Of-State-Guests.

*Folks From Away (local terminology, there...)

Guy From Away: Do you have any lettuce?

Veggie Guy/Possible Boyfriend: Ayuh. Gut it right down hee-uh. I keep it nice 'n cold 'n wet in th' coolah.

GFA: Is it Maine lettuce?

VG/PB: It's from right off owah fahm. I won't touch that grocery stowah stuff! Godawful...

GFA: What do you do in the winter?

VG/PB: (assuming a put upon, but patient expression) Well, suh. I just don't eat th' stuff!

*Then he kind of rolled his eyes at me.

*Because the answer to all questions involved here were probably kind of obvious.

*There wasn't much to say after that. I bought my gi-normous carrots and went on my way.

*He cut the tops off for me without even asking.

*I always get the tops cut off.

They go to the goats and I like knowing that I helped feed the goats.

*The Veggie Guy and Me? Totally in sync.

*Tonight's dinner: grilled new potatoes and a huge garden salad with shredded cheese.

*The lettuce was from the grocery store...

*It actually didn't feel as hot to me today even though the thermometer looked exactly the same.

*Maybe I'm getting used to it?

*I tried to knit a bit on the sock I was working on last night.

*That's when I realized that it is, in fact, just as hot as it was yesterday.

*Sock go away.

*I think sock understand.

*I don't spend all my time looking at the new baby panda on the San Diego Zoo Panda Cam. Honest.

*Sometimes I look at regular pandas, just for variety.

Walking Panda

Snacking Panda

*But mostly I just look at the baby.

Dudes...seriously. Even I had to say, "awwww!" on that one.

He/She is growing up so fast! And mommy is a little more willing to step off a bit.

*He doesn't look like a naked mole rat anymore.

*Now he looks sort of like a guinea pig...

Yay! I made it through the whole post and I still haven't melted! I'm like a superhero or something! Now I'm going to head over to the window area and wait on that cooler air. It's bound to be arriving any time soon. I just know it! Happy Wednesday and may moderate temperatures be yours to enjoy!

SA

Creativity Is Cool!

We creative types see the possibilities in everything. When confronted with an empty coffee can, we don't necessarily see trash. No. Many of us see a container for straight needles. If we wash it out really well and put a hole in the lid, we know that we have something to keep the yarn ball from rolling all over the living room while we knit. It's a button container and it's a gigantic pom-pom winder if you are in need of a pom-pom larger than an infant's head. Heck, just a few weeks ago I made a coffee can into a portable sterno stove for no reason other than I thought it could be done.

There are possibilities in everything if you are just willing to take in the view from another angle.

And on a day when the temperatures soar into the nineties, the air quality is beyond poor and the symptoms of heat exhaustion grow ever closer, you can't help but see the possibilities in a sock bag. Sure, you could just start knitting a sock and hope that the very act will inspire chilly thoughts. That little bit of mental trickery could work. I, however, saw a different path. I saw the road to an ice pack, a little something to press upon my fevered brow while I worked up the energy to go get another soda.

I'm not sure that this is what Trek had in mind when she stitched this up, though...

Intentional or not, this thing was a lifesaver today. Even with the lowering of the sun and the approaching night, the heat still continues to rise over here. It is even hotter now than it was at noon which seems grossly unfair in spite of my understanding that there are any number of scientific explanations for this phenomenon.

It was too hot to knit after 10:00 this morning. But that doesn't mean I can't work in a knitting reference or find a use for my knitterly paraphernalia. And tomorrow I get to do it all over again.

Because it is supposed to be at least as miserable then as it is right now. Gah.

SA

Red Hot Sheepie

Sometimes a theme presents itself. Other times themes don't present themselves and then I have to make one up. But this is one of those times when I could work with the theme and we always celebrate those blogging days, don't we?

Our theme of the day? Red. Bright, blazing red.

The thermometer is showing a great deal of red these days. I knew this was going to happen. We had the chilliest summer in recent memory and shivered our way through June and July. I only just took the flannel sheets off the bed a few weeks ago. And now, right on time for school to start up and trap me in a room with a bunch of sweating teenagers, the weather takes a turn for the warm. The humidity, probably feeling left out, has also stopped by for a visit. The current temperature in the living room is 84 degrees, not such a horrible thing, but the moisture in the air makes it feel like soup.

I haven't gotten much done today. I'm not a strong swimmer. I'm afraid if I try to move through this air that I will drown right in my own kitchen.

Yesterday was also a muggy sort of day but I didn't mind it so much. Just when it got so bad I thought I'd melt into a grumpy puddle, I hopped in the car, blasted the A/C and headed over to Mommy and Daddy Sheep's house. From there, we all traveled to the annual lobster feed sponsored by my father's former place of hire.

There is nothing like the breeze coming off the ocean as you enjoy the marina views. I don't know how you'd top that...

Well, maybe I do. A big ol' tray covered in red lobsters, steamers, corn and other assorted side dishes might improve an already delightful evening. I'm not saying that I couldn't consume two lobsters in one sitting. I'm sure that I could. But I always save one to take home for lobster rolls. A lobster feed is kind of like Thanksgiving. The best part is always in the leftovers.

In case you were wondering, I will solve the mystery of The Perfect Lobster Roll. The recipe is a bit complicated so you might want to print it out or take notes. It goes like this: Take your nice red lobster and pick off the meat. Shred or chop it a bit. Add just enough mayo to hold it together. Put it on a sub roll. Or a hot dog roll. You may have lettuce if you wish. It's better that way but I don't want to tell you how to eat your lobster roll.

I'm sure that there are a few people out there who are saying, "But, Sheepie! I went to a fancy pants restaurant and had a lobster roll with capers, truffles and shaved gold. That was surely the finest lobster roll ever created. I know because they charged me forty gazillion dollars for it!"

Feel free to your opinion. I'm just sayin'. Lobster. Mayonnaise. Bread. The End.

Also in the "red" family, we have my latest dishcloth. I whipped up another Darrell Waltrip since those seem to come together so quickly. This may be the one that ends my dishcloth frenzy for well and for good, however. It isn't my favorite. It's a dishcloth so it doesn't have to be high art or anything. Beauty is optional in a dishcloth. But I don't think I love this one. The colors just didn't seem to work with the pattern very well, in my opinion.

It looks like I used it to clean up the crime scene.

That's OK. If I ever really do need to clean up a crime scene, I suppose it would be nice to have a designated DNA moppin' cloth. I can't honestly foresee a need for one. I'm a pretty law abiding citizen and have never once had thoughts of dastardly deeds. Maybe it will work for spilled pizza sauce or a tightly sealed jam jar thrown in anger...

I'm sure that I could think of other things in the red family if I put my mind to it. But it's still really hot and my brain has started flashing the "check fluids" light. I think I need a beverage before I blow a gasket or something. I hear that's an expensive repair. There is also no sign of this ending any time soon, so I'd best pace myself.

We don't want that needle to go into the red zone, now do we? Having a new cleaning cloth is not enough to justify a 'sploding head.

SA

Panda-monium

The other night, I tuned in to the San Diego Zoo Panda Cam as I do regularly. There, I was treated to the sight of a panda having a nosh. This, in and of itself, is not all that unusual. A pandas gotta eat, right? And this one really seemed to be enjoying the process.

However, I was very disturbed by what I saw. This panda was nibbling on what I could only guess was one of those naked mole rats you hear about from time to time. (At least I hear about them from time to time. The things you hear may be different...) I was extremely upset by this. My first thought was that it was rather callous of the guy running the panda-cam to keep zooming in on this horrific scene. My second was to wonder who I could call because pandas are supposed to be jolly, rolly-poly creatures who eat bamboo. They are most certainly not supposed to be vicious carnivores with a taste for naked mole rat flesh. I wanted this blatant example of false advertising dealt with immediately!

It soon became apparent, even to someone in a state of high agitation over the murder of naked mole rats, that I had misread the visual just a bit. That was not a naked mole rat, nor was it being consumed.

No. It was a baby panda being gently licked by its loving mommy panda. No naked mole rats were harmed in the making of this panda-cam moment. They didn't even show up for the shoot. A quick visit to the zoo site confirmed my suspicions.

In my defense, I should say that I view the panda-cam from my computer's dashboard and there is no text to help me decipher what I am seeing. Frankly, I didn't think I'd need it what with my general panda knowledge and all. In addition, a baby panda bears no resemblance whatsoever to what we typically think of when someone says, "panda."

They look like naked mole rats. Hence, the confusion.

Later, I realized that I should have taken a screen shot because how many times are you going to see a baby panda? I suppose if you work in the panda field, you'll get a few opportunities. The rest of us are out of luck. It became my mission to get a picture of this little bugger.

This is harder than you think. First of all, baby pandas are tiny. Think "stick of butter." That's what the website used for comparison. Secondly, Mommy Pandas are very protective of their babies and like to curl right around them. I suppose the fact that baby has no fur and looks like a naked mole rat might have something to do with that. No one wants their offspring to be the target of laughter and harsh judgement. Then there's the fact that I can't spend my whole day watching the panda-cam hoping for a glimpse because that would border on obsessive. I had a challenge on my hands here!

But for you, I tried. I actually do have a little bit more time for this kind of nonsense right now and some of you do not. I made the effort because you and the baby panda are worth it. It took up some valuable knitting time, but there you go. I'm just that kind of gal.

And maybe a little bit obsessed now that I think about it...

Today, I finally managed to get something. Please understand that even the best shot is going to be fuzzy and remember what I said about the size of this thing. It's so small, they can't even tell whether it's a boy or a girl yet! But I did my best. What you are looking for is the little blob under Mommy Panda's chin. Just pretend you are looking for a naked mole rat and you should be fine...

"Oooohs" and "Ahhhhs" are perfectly appropriate here.

But anyone who goes, "Awwww" is going to be outed as a liar because there is absolutely nothing cute about a baby panda. Nothing.

There. Now I won't have to feel like I wasted my entire summer vacation. Or the last two days spent staring at the panda cam and yelling, "Move!!!!!" I have successfully captured a baby panda on digital media for you. I'm tired...

In all seriousness, though, I do suggest stopping by the website if you get the chance. Apple has a download for a widget that will let Mac users watch from the desktop and that has made panda ogling ever so much easier for me. Glimpses of the baby are rare, but the camera is now devoted entirely to this scene so you'll probably see something if you watch long enough. It's really rather amazing.

Once you get past the whole "flesh eating zombie panda" thing...

SA

Wii Have Bullet Points, 'Taters, REM Sleep And Dishcloths

I have had some difficulties with the routine of late. This has made it challenging to remember what day it is. But I know a Wednesday when I see one! And that means it is time for the Wednesday Night Bullet Post. Let's do this thing!

*Insomnia has had me in its grip of late.

*The approach of the new school year always stirs up a little of the stress for me.

*And the humidity hasn't helped either.

*I finally slept last night.

*Yay!

*Sleep is necessary for thinking, I've found. And thinking is necessary for all sorts of life functions.

*Like driving and buttoning your shirt right.

*Dishcloth mania continues unabated over here.

*I blame my sister-in-law. She mentioned in passing that there was this one time she didn't get a dishcloth from someone she knew way back when and I was suddenly overcome with the desire to right this tragic wrong.

*I have yet to give her a dishcloth. But now I can should the opportunity present itself.

*Plus they're wicked fast to knit and make a girl look productive.

*Even when she hasn't been sleeping.

*They range from the simple:

Grandmother's Favorite Dishcloth

*To the somewhat more complex:

Doily Style Dishcloth

*I won't lie to you. The latter has issues. The stitch count was a bit off as I neared the end.

*I didn't much care by then.

*If you'd been trying to do a doily on blunt wooden needles, you wouldn't either.

*Not to mention the whole sleep deprivation thing.

*It's lopsided, but fine. In fact, I think it looks pretty darned spiffy for something that will be scrubbing pots.

*That's the problem with "pretty" dishcloths.

*When you give them away, no one wants to use them.

*They end up under a vase or on the back of a chair.

*Which seems silly.

*Although if you did this pattern in crochet cotton, I'll bet you'd have an actual doily.

*I'd be mad if I saw that in the sink. But not if I saw the dishcloth floating in a soaking pot.

*Today was Farmer's Market Day!

*Also known as Visiting With The Vegetables.

*It wasn't raining.

*Hence, "others" were there.

*Makes for challenging shopping.

*But I managed.

Local wild blueberries, garlic, 'taters, onion and peaches.

*I've said it before and I'll say it again: when you think "Maine" you can't help but think "Peaches!"

*Not pictured: scallions

*aka green onions.

*Tonight's dinner: Potatoes, garlic and onion roasted in olive oil and seasoned with fresh basil.

*I guess I forgot to put that in the picture too...

*I was going to put chopped scallions on the 'taters when they came out of the oven.

*But then I realized I had an already "biologically combustible" mix in there. Probably best to wait on the scallions...

*After the market, I stopped at the local purveyor of digital entertainment and picked up a copy of Wii Sports Resort.

*Comes with the new Wii Motion Plus accessory.

*I had to ask the Game Guru behind the counter for it because they don't put those out with the other movies 'n stuff.

Game Guru: I can tell you from experience that this is a lot of fun.

Sheepish Annie: So I'm told. I like the Wii Sports game so I figured I'd get this one, too.

GG: That's what I thought when it came out!

SA: It's a little embarrassing, though. I mean, like, I used to play really cool games where I got to kill stuff.

GG: Yeah...

SA: And now I'm playing tennis, for heaven's sake! And golf? When did I become a golfer???

*He looked at me. And in his eyes I saw understanding, compassion and perhaps just a bit of relief at finding another who was experiencing such angst.

*We may be separated by life experiences, social groups and more than twenty years of age but, in that moment, we were kindred spirits.

*Then we got to talking about Wii bowling and I started feeling kind of geeky again.

*I had to buy a used zombie movie just to balance things out a bit.

*I made scones last night.

*Scones are easy and something I can do without sleep.

*I'm going to have one with fresh fruit later on.

*Once the garlic and onions have settled down a bit, of course.

I anticipate an evening of Wii Sports (the 'resort' variety) and peachy/scone-y goodness. I'll probably also knit another dishcloth. I think that is a fine way to celebrate midweek and the return of my sleeping ability.

Of course the garlic and the games will probably keep me up all night. But that's just more time for dishcloth knitting, right?

SA

Peachy Customer

There are lots of things I don't do particularly well. In general, the mishaps born of my fumblings are the stuff of this blog. They make for entertaining stories.

However, my self-esteem is not so low that I don't know about the things I do well. I have been hanging around me for a long time now and I'm pretty adept at identifying the good stuff.

For example, I am a rather delightful customer. If you are in retail, I am not such a bad person to have show up at your counter.

Sometimes I'm good at this because I'm generally comfortable with the idea that I don't know everything about everything. There are times when I am making purchases which require a knowledge base I do not possess. I've also learned that faking it is a sure path to disaster. My best bet is to find a vendor who seems relatively trustworthy and fling myself upon her mercy. Nine times out of ten, this works. On the tenth try, I end up purchasing the high end version of the product instead of the sale item I wanted and find myself with the extended warranty. These things happen sometimes...

Other times, I am a good customer because I know exactly what I am doing. Either through experience or diligent study, I have a solid understanding of the product being discussed. Today, for example, I was continuing my quest for a new pair of glasses and perusing the wares at the local Big Box Department Store Of Values. It went like something like this:

Glasses Guru: Hello, ma'am. Is there anything I can do for you today?

Sheepish Annie: Why hello, yourself! I do believe you can assist me today. Here's the deal, my good man. This is my prescription. I'm in the market for a Progressive bi-focal, preferably something in the Varilux line. Obviously, given the prescription strength, I will be needing a high index lens. I believe that a 1.67 should be plenty. Anything beyond that is overkill, in my opinion. Now, here's where things get tricky. I need a narrow lens width to minimize facial distortion. Of course, this will also help with the overall thickness of the lens and is a nice benefit. My current glasses are along the lines of a 44mm width and really pretty close to perfect. I'd say I can go as high as 46mm if we push things, though. Now this means that we will also be looking at a short corridor Progressive and I know that's going to bump up the price a bit but that's the way these things go sometimes, right? Given my needs, I'd say our best bet would be to start over here in the children's section and work our way up from there. We are going to run into some issues with bridge width, but I think we can find something that will work. What do you say, my fine fellow? Are you ready to make some middle-aged myopic magic here?

GG: Wow.

SA: Problems?

GG: Um, no. It's just that you really did your homework...

I merely smiled. The truth of the matter is that I actually did very little homework. It's really more that I've been buying glasses for almost as long as this guy has been alive and, to be honest, I've screwed it up more than I've gotten it right. Painful and expensive lessons are really amazing teachers, aren't they?

I'm also a good customer because, as much as I'd like to think otherwise, I know I'm not the only person in the world. Or the store. When the Glasses Guru is working alone, I know that I'm going to have to be patient while he answers the phone and deals with other customers. Further, some of those other customers are not as enlightened as I when it comes to recognizing this fact. But, patience is often rewarded with better service, especially when you can commiserate with GG over the guy on the phone who couldn't understand whom to call about his contact lens order. The fact that all orders are now going through 1-800-CONTACTS seemed to flummox him and required several repetitions.

CONTACTS. The thing you want to buy. Dial that. You will get your lenses...

I also know that when the Glasses Guru is willing to spend 45 minutes with me even though he knew right up front that I am only shopping around at this point and not planning to give him any money today, I have probably found one of the good guys. He had a great sense of humor, wrote down everything I needed should I decide to order and never once made me feel like I was the victim of a hard sell. He saw the incredible irony in the my putting old-lady lenses in frames made by Disney and laughed at my commentary on this subject. He also beat my optometrist's price by about $150.00.

We need not discuss the fact that the kiddie frames I will probably buy are a shade of light purple. "Plum" to be exact. Whatever. I'm moving into bi-focals. I might as well get something that matches my varicose veins, right?

(I actually wore bi-focals in jr. high so this isn't really the big deal I'm making it out to be. But I do like to inject a little self-absorbed drama into things every now and again...)

I may be a great customer, but I'm sort of lousy when it comes to sticking to a yarn plan. In fact, I'm probably the worst sticker-to-yarn-planners in the world. Gripped as I am in the summer dishcloth knitting frenzy, I still decided that I would use up the cotton I have here before going out to get more. I need glasses. I can't be tossing money around all will-nilly on yarn when I still have half a cone of the stuff right in my living room! I swore up and down that I would not be buying any more yarn until a dent was made in that which I already possess!

But what is one to do when faced with the brilliant shades of Peaches & Creme available these days?

I didn't get the purple, though. That should count for something...

The glasses remain under consideration, but yarn I don't even have to think about. Even if I promised I'd think about it before dropping the cash. I suppose that spending money is another thing that makes me a good customer, but I sometimes wonder if my priorities are a little bit skewed.

Maybe the Glasses Guru would like a nice, new dishcloth...

SA

The Gr-8-est Love Of All

Oh, Octagonal Swirl Cloth! Even after all these years, I am still fascinated by you. The magic? It just never seems to fade. We have something special, you and I.

Each and every time we meet, I remain utterly transfixed by the way you form on the needles. You are a clever one and I look all the smarter for being with you. You aren't in the least snobbish. No. You are a humble sort, always knowing that you are destined for hard work. I find a simple, understated dignity in that.

And the way you adapt? Brilliant. You are cool with dpns or circs. You just work with what's available. Sure, you don't always act predictably during Magic Loop but that's OK. Sometimes a girl likes surprises. Yarnovers don't always have to be where you'd expect them, after all. It still works.

I've learned so much from you. Why the first time I knit you way back when, I didn't even know how to do a M1 increase! I learned just for you. You taught me the value of a loose bind off, too. Without you, I'd still be casting off to the sound of squeaking yarn as it travels ever closer to the breaking point.

Not that it's always been easy. Sometimes the cotton is hard on the hands and we need to take a little break from one another for a while. And remember yesterday? When I was watching that Baking With Julia Marathon and lost count? I think it was when they were making that chocolate ruffles cake...maybe it was the scones? Whatever. We had a bit of a time then, that's for sure. Tinking back three rows was certainly a strain on our relationship and things got kind of tense for a time.

But then it was over and oh how we laughed! This is the stuff of long term relationships. The road sometimes has a few bumps in it, but that's what makes us stronger and wiser in the end, right?

Oh, heck! I'm just gonna say it. I don't care if I'm the first to speak the words. Octagonal Swirl Dishcloth...I love you. There! I said it. I love you!!!

OK. Um. Yeah. This is awkward...

You need some time. I understand. I sort of threw that out there kind of fast. You probably want to sit with this for a bit. That's cool. I get it. You want some space? I can do space. Space is, like, my middle name! You just take all the time you need and don't worry about me. I'm not the clingy, needy type at all. I'm, like, all whatever and stuff. I'll see you when I see you.

Call me...

SA

Seeing It Is Optional

Now that I am officially in the "middle aged vision" category of the population and awaiting the arrival of prescription bifocals that will allow me to navigate the world without the aid of a helpful canine, I am grateful for the fact that seeing things isn't always a requirement. There is lots of stuff you can assume. Assuming is good, especially when you can't necessarily make out details anymore.

For example, when a truck shows up in the parking area and a dude with tools starts wandering around, you don't need to see what he is doing to know that he is a plumber. You can assume that fact when the water gets turned off. Repeatedly. All day. Without warning.

You also don't need to see what he is doing to know that bathroom trips will need to be carefully timed for the remainder of the day...

When you finally get running water back in your life and decide that a nice hot bath would be a good reward after such a dry day, you aren't able to see everything that goes on in the manse. You are relaxed and your less than perfect vision is even more limited since you've taken off the useless glasses. But when you hear the sound of growling, howling, yowling and thundering paws, you can be pretty sure that the resident felines have gotten into yet another tussle.

I've seen enough of these altercations to know how it goes. The Absurdly Gi-normous Kitty (always the instigator) will charge the Big, Fluffy Kitty, merrily ignoring all warnings to cease and desist. He will persist through the first couple of swipes, ever hopeful that this will be the day she gives in to his displays of affection. She will not. Ever. On a good day, she will make a break for it and hide until he finds something else to do. On a bad day, she will defend herself to the end.

I always know when it's over because the AGK wanders around crying piteously, broken hearted and wanting the world to know of his despair. Then he has a snack and watches some television because he is, at heart, just a dude.

Frankly, "seeing" isn't all that helpful in this situation. These two are beyond mismatched in terms of physique. The BFK is big only in name and fluff. She is a feline optical illusion. Underneath all the fur, I doubt if I have a quarter pound of cat. The AGK, on the other hand, is the very model of truth in advertising. He is huge and has the advantage of youthful reflexes. The BFK is somewhere in the vicinity of 17-19 years of age.

Going with what you see will not predict the outcome in this case. Not one little bit. When the BFK says, "no" she means just that. And AGKs who ignore this, do so at their peril.

She gots me rite on mah snooty!!!!! I cryd 'n cryd. Then mama gived me chikenz 'n I wuz OK.

See? You don't have to see stuff to know stuff. It's optional sometimes. Which is good for me since I can't see these days, but still need to know stuff. I know that, if the cats aren't cooperating and the water isn't running, that I am going to need a distraction or two. Happily, I happened to see some dishcloths yesterday. They were posted by the delightful April and crocheted...crocheted, I tellya! I can crochet! I can crochet faster than I can knit, truth be told. And that means I can whip out a leaf stitch version of this household essential in an hour or so!

By God, I can even craft up a lopsided border of sorts if I put my mind to it!!!

Now that I can't see, I can do stuff all lopsided and not feel badly. No one can say anything mean about it. Everyone has to be nice, at least to my face. And at close range since anything anyone does outside my abbreviated field of vision is not something I'm going to catch anyway. I rather like this dishcloth, in spite of the border issues. It's very squooshy and we all know how important the tactile element becomes once the sense of sight is lost.

Lastly, there is one more thing you may or may not be seeing in the coming days. I am experimenting with the idea of blogging when I have something to say rather than the 6 posts per week I've been doing for the past few years. I truly do love to write and blogging has allowed me to do just that. I also love connecting with others out there in the fiber world, not to mention keeping up with family and friends. However, the word well sometimes runs a little dry and material isn't always easy to find. I think I do fairly well with crafting posts, but it's felt more like work lately and that was never my intention going into this.

I'm not done. Far from it. Pulling back a bit isn't about letting go of the blog. It is about holding onto it. I think that giving myself permission to not blog will keep it from becoming an obligation. (Blogligation?) It's a hobby and something I do to challenge myself in a fun way.

So if you don't see me, don't panic. It just means that I took an extra long nap that day and missed good blogging stuff. Or that I'm busy breaking up a kitty battle. Or crocheting a dishcloth. Or patiently waiting out the lack of water situation.

Or I can't see well enough to find the laptop...

SA

Same Church, Different Pew

It's time once again for the Wednesday Night Bullet Post. It's been a fun-filled day and one that was simply overflowing with the glad tidings. Let's hit 'em hard!

*I had an appointment for an eye exam today.

*It's been about four years.

*We like to stay on top of these things, you see...

*I was late because I was knitting on the Invisibility Shawl and lost track of time. Not by much...just a little late.

*It is also entirely possible that I could not see the clock clearly.

*It was a pretty standard sort of exam. Routine, really. I can sum it up like this:

Dr. Eyeball: Well, the good news is that you are no longer myopic.

Sheepish Annie: Yay, I'm cured!!!

DE: The bad news is that you are now presbyopic.

SA: Boo! Now I have to change churches...

*The doctor thought that was funny.

*Truthfully, I already knew that I was due for a change in prescription. I also knew that he was going to be telling me about the need for bifocals.

*When one is making a debit card transaction and has to ask the store clerk to hold the keypad at arms length so that the little numbers can be seen, it is usually a pretty good sign that the vision has gone wonky.

*I'm old. It makes sense that my eyeballs would be following suit.

*The plan was to just get the exam today. I was going to wait on glasses.

*My insurance doesn't cover optical services.

*Dr. Eyeball is somewhat well-versed in the "hard sell." No foul there. It's his living, after all.

*I am a tough fit for glasses.

*My needs are many. It's not that I'm picky. It's just that my face won't cooperate.

*Lots of issues with fit.

*The doc picked out an ugly pair of glasses for me from the children's rack.

*I need small glasses.

*Small glasses do not work well with progressive bifocals.

*I still wasn't going to buy glasses from him today. Or contacts.

*For the record, when you start asking your optometrist about your pupillary distance measurement and if he wouldn't mind writing a little more clearly on your prescription form, he will get suspicious.

*Things might even get a little awkward and tense even if you've been seeing this doctor for 33 years. He's probably thinking that you are going to go shopping on some cheap-o Internet glasses site.

*The fact that he is right about this doesn't make it any less uncomfortable.

*The ugly glasses he picked out for me from the children's rack, once combined with the special lenses and whatnot, totalled well over $400.00

*Dude...Seriously?

*I didn't go to the Farmer's Market today.

*Too tired from the eye exam. I wonder how The Produce Guy With The Little Stand At The End is doing?

*Tonight's' dinner: Hot Pocket right out of the microwave.

*Don't bother. I know. It's a comedown from my regular Wednesday fare...

*I literally spent the entire day perusing the Internet trying to find a pair of glasses with lenses around 44 mm in width, high enough to accommodate bifocals, and not so ugly as to make me the subject of laughter the world over.

*Or with cartoon figures dancing on them.

*For a reasonable price.

*Not easy.

*I also had ice cream for dinner because this was not a productive day overall.

*I have a headache from being on the computer all day looking for new glasses.

*Because I need glasses...

*In answer to a question that came up yesterday regarding the names of my cats:

The Big, Fluffy Kitty (BFK) = Persephone

The Absurdly Gi-normous Kitty (AGK) = Prometheus

*They do have real names.

*It's just that they are very long and it is easier to use initials.

*I also forgot to run any other errands I was supposed to take care of today so now I am a day behind.

*Which is going to mess up my Thursday, but I can't really see the clock anymore so I don't think it will matter too much in the end.

And now I must bid you farewell. There is much more for me to do this evening. Spending a day shopping for the ever elusive pair of child-sized frames with old person's lenses will really take a chunk out of your day...

SA

Surrender

I made sure to put in some sock time today. I did this bright and early because I didn't want to forget. I needed a project ready to go for Knit Night and there would be no last minute rushing about for this knitter!

I managed an inch or so of sock, enough to make knitting relatively mindless, and put the project aside. It was ready to go. I set about enjoying the rest of my day.

I'm not exactly sure just what happened after that. It's kind of a blur. What I do know is that the next time I looked at the clock, the 6:00 hour had just passed. Odd, that. I can't help but wonder where the rest of the day went, but I'm not one to question a timepiece. I also happened to notice that I didn't appear to be rushing about like a madwoman and trying to get ready to leave in order that I might salvage some of the evening. I didn't feel like moving at all.

Sometimes you just have to accept the inevitable. Surrender isn't necessarily a bad thing. Sometimes it's the only thing.

In lieu of a report on my Summer Of Compensatory Knitty Socialization (S.O.C.K.S) time, why don't I tell you a story? It's amusing and, I assure you, quite true. I should probably tell you two things right up front, though. First, it is a bathroom story. While not an icky bathroom story, I like to ensure that those of you with delicate constitutions are aware of the context in which a tale is told.

Secondly, I wish you not to think this story is about me. While I have nothing against the bathroom in general, I like to think that I have transcended such things. No. Let's say that this little slice of life is from someone else's plate.

Once upon a time, there was a lady who was enjoying her summer vacation. However, with school starting soon, she knew that the time had come for her to start going to bed a bit earlier. It would not be long before the alarm began going off at 5:00 in the godforsaken a.m. and it wouldn't do for her to be going to bed mere minutes before that. Each night without fail, she would make her way to the bed just a little bit earlier, always trying to get closer to the "normal" routine.

One night, a Monday if you must know, she informed her cats that it was time for everyone to settle down. This was met with nods of understanding and the resuming of their frantic racing about the house. The kitties were not quite so enamoured with the thought of "routine" as was their mommy.

The lady sighed, but doggedly pursued her earlier bedtime. On this night, she remembered that she should visit the restroom prior to retiring. This lady was of a later vintage, you see. As part of her routine-building, she had developed something of a proactive stance regarding certain things.

No. This is not me we're talking about. Remember the whole "transcending" business? I have evolved beyond such things as bladder maintenance...

The lady was tending to this aspect of her routine when, suddenly, a Big, Fluffy Kitty rocketed into the room, looking for all the world like the devil himself was after her. Close upon her heels was an Absurdly Gi-normous Kitty, an expression of outright glee on his face as he closed in on the object of his affections.

The lady quickly scooped up the fluffy kitty. She was already sitting down so it wasn't much of a reach. She carefully held the poor, flustered creature away from the paws of her nemesis.

This posed something of a conundrum, given the circumstance. Certainly it would not do to let go of the Big, Fluffy Kitty. The feline had come to her for protection. And sanctuary, once granted, cannot be withdrawn. On the other hand, it did not appear that the large orange beast at her feet was giving up any time soon. "Woe is me," thought the lady, "I fail to see how this situation could possibly be any worse! Surely I shall perish here and my corpse found in this most undignified of positions!"

The lady was clearly of an innocent breed and unwise in the ways of the world. She did not realize that any situation can, and probably will, take a turn for the worse. While she sat there, pondering all possible ways to extricate herself from her predicament, the Absurdly Gi-normous Kitty suddenly became aware of the strings on the lady's sweatpants. Given her "situation," they were within easy reach. Suddenly, he no longer found his pursuit of the Big, Fluffy Kitty to be quite so interesting. He lunged for the strings and quickly subdued them, along with a significant portion of the fabric from which they dangled. This, of course, would be the same fabric the lady had hoped would soon be rearranged back into her sleepwear for the evening.

"Gadzooks!" she cried, "I am undone! However shall I free myself and keep to the bedtime routine?"

The lady thought and thought. The Big, Fluffy Kitty clung and clung. The Absurdly Gi-normous Kitty wrapped himself ever more firmly into the sweatpants. Time passed. Finally, the lady realized that there was nothing else for it. The sweatpants had to be surrendered. They were a casualty of war and the war was well and truly lost. With a sigh, the lady (still clutching her fluffy cargo) carefully extricated herself from her beloved sweats. She completed those activities required in order that one might call a visit to the restroom "finished," and fled the scene.

The Absurdly Gi-normous Kitty celebrated his victory by dragging her sweatpants about the manse for ten minutes then collapsing on the bed in utter exhaustion. The Big, Fluffy Kitty fled and was not seen again until the morning feeding time.

The End

At least I think that's how it went. It's how I heard it anyway. As I said, I wasn't there so I can't be certain of all the details. But I'm pretty sure I've got it right.

Or it could just be one of those urban legends...

SA

Bloody Heck!

It is Monday and August is upon me for real now. I awoke this morning filled with the need to start getting things organized around here. It won't be long before I need to get back in to school and start tacking up those posters, after all.

We won't discuss what happens after the posters go up. It is too horrible to contemplate. I can only say that it involves middle school students and the need to contain them for seven hours a day.

One of the things that required tending today was the mailbox. I am notoriously bad about picking up my mail. I never bother on the weekends. There may be bills in there and I find those distressing and distasteful during my time of rest. I was pretty sure that I needed to go get the mail today. You can only let it marinate for so long before it gets all fermented and stuff.

As I suspected, there was a bill in there. It was from the lab that did my bloodwork back in June. I'd forgotten about all that, frankly. I hate it when bills come with the unpleasant memory of a new nurse wielding a needle. However, you can't let a case of the heebie-jeebies keep you from opening a bill so I forged ahead.

I've had this lab work done before. As a precaution, I am screened for possible signs of arthritis every now and again. It's been a while, though. I could easily have forgotten the billing portion of the festivities. But I really do think I would have remembered a two page summary of services. I seem to recall a simpler format.

Apparently, the technology has advanced. Instead of testing for one or two factors, they run a massive panel. How they got all that out of my tiny little blood sample I'll never know, but they squeezed a whole lotta information out of that vial. 16 tests were billed unto me. After the insurance was done picking the carcass, the bill came to just shy of $84.00

I just don't recall this being such a "thing" the last time I had bloodwork done. I felt the need to Google a few of those tests since only one of them rang a bell. Or sounded even remotely like what I'd asked to be checked. I mean, sure, it's good to know that I have Double Stranded DNA. But I think that's really between me and my genes, don't you?

Surprisingly, pretty much everything on there was related to the condition for which I am periodically tested. I did happen to notice a couple of tests that my doctor snuck in there but I don't blame her for that. I am a lousy patient and she does what she has to in order to tend to my health. Overall, I've decided to just be grateful for a thorough screening process and let it go.

Besides, my insurance is pretty good. It's not what it used to be, not by a long shot. However a great deal of this grand medical experiment was covered. Not everything, but a lot. For the record, Alpha-2-Macroglobulin costs $9.55 to put under a microscope and it is not covered under my plan.

I am now very well educated in the ways of blood. Of course, a great deal of time was spent searching the internet for references to procedures that may or may not related to my popping a positive test for Rheumatoid Factor. ($19.30 to test, $17.35 of which my insurance company found worthy of payment) It got in the way of most of the stuff that I was going to do today.

I managed a few repeats on the shawl. Since no one has bothered to tell me the actual results of these tests and since the nurse I spoke to last June had no idea what I was talking about when she called me with my other information, I am assuming that I have gotten a clean bill of health. I am safe to knit for another few years without the pesky specter of sore digits looming over my shoulder.

I may have to wait to write that check, though. Anything could happen. We don't want to overstrain the joints, after all. Better safe than sorry, right?

SA

Wii Are Humbled

I talked to my parents on the phone today as I do every Sunday. I call them...they call me...either way, it's a weekly thing. We "catch up."

I used part of this catching up time to grumble to Mommy Sheep about how I couldn't connect my new Wii to the internet. It seems I'd secured my connection and managed to forget my password. Further, I'd not gotten around to emailing my service provider for that bit of information, mostly because it is embarrassing to admit that you've forgotten such a thing. Mommy Sheep's response wasn't entirely illogical. She asked, "Didn't you write it down?"

I chuckled and said that I'd apparently thought it so simple to remember that it didn't need writing down. Jokes on me! I was the model of lighthearted.

But on the inside, I did that mental eye roll. The one that means, "OmigodMOM! Like I wouldn't have thought of that! Sheesh!"

Don't look so innocent. You know the mental eye roll. You've done it. It is the universal, internal gesture of human offspring everywhere.

When the call ended, I happened to notice the scrap of paper upon which I illegibly scrawl my various and sundry passwords. I picked it up to review it because there is no finer feeling in this world than justifying a mental eye roll and...there it was.

On the back of the paper.

Written in that oh-so-crafty-and-probably-easily-cracked code of mine.

The password.

Written down.

Like Mommy said.

This was just like that time I told her about my new plan for organizing the cutlery in the dishwasher. "Like with like," I proudly proclaimed. "Now I'll be able to put things away with ease and efficiency!" Mommy Sheep patiently explained why this might not be such a great idea but I didn't listen. I was too busy doing the mental eye roll except that time the eye roll came with spoons that needed to be rewashed because they all stuck together just like my mother said they would.

I just never learn. My mother is smarter than I am. All mothers are smarter than I am. The fact that they are too nice to point it out doesn't make it less true. The best I can hope for is that I'll start catching myself sooner, maybe even do what my mother says before wasting precious eyeball energy on an ultimately foolish gesture.

The password was correctly entered, the Wii happily accepted it and now..

I can haz the interwebs on my Tee-Vee!

It probably would have been better had I used a flash. I find that "context" is a useful thing sometimes. A flash can help provide that on dark days when you want to take a photo of your television. But I got all caught up in the excitement and wonder of living in these here modern times and forgot.

Besides, it's Daddy Sheep's job to remind me about that kind of stuff. Not that it would have mattered. I think we are all clear now regarding my need to ignore any and all solid parental advice since I know soooooo much more than everyone else.

With the wireless connection established, I was able to download the browser and even purchase a game through the online store. I didn't play it right away, though. No. I did many rows on the shawl as penance for my eye-rolling ways. Then I did another repeat to make up for the fact that the game I purchased was of the table tennis variety, thereby proving yesterday's theory that I am becoming something of a gaming wimp in my old age.

It only seemed right. However, I fear that this shawl is starting to turn into my own, personal rosary. When it is finished, it will be so laden with the weight of my sins that I fear it will crush me the first time I toss it jauntily about my shoulders. I'll probably give one last eye roll before being smothered by it.

Mothers are smarter. Mine probably could have told me to not imbue the shawl with that much penance...

SA

Wii Can't Believe This

Back in the day, I was quite the gamer. This life phase occurred sometime around my mid to late thirties. My platform of choice was the PS2 and my preferred genre was survival/horror. I had to spend more time than I liked dealing with condescending store clerks who wanted to make sure that this unsuspecting soccer mom understood she was purchasing a somewhat graphic game for junior, but it was worth it. I got pretty good.

I didn't spend my entire life in front of a screen clutching a controller. I never quite made the move over to being one of The Pale People. I had a life. But I was a player. I'm not saying I was great. I was, however, quite good. I took some pride in that fact.

Time passed, though (as time is wont to do) and one day I decided to revisit an old hobby. I picked up a pair of knitting needles, one thing led to another and soon I was spending more time wrangling the wool than saving the world from the zombie scourge. The PS2 was used more often as a DVD player than anything else. When I got the new TV back in April, it happened to come with a handy player already installed so the game console began gathering dust. I finally put it away. I wasn't ready to get rid of it altogether, mind you. I figured there was still some play time left in there should the spirit ever move me again.

This brings us to last Tuesday. I bought a Wii. I've been eyeing them for a while now. It is marketed to a pretty wide audience, including adults. Many of the games are designed to help people move along towards a fitness goal or two. Having become bored with my workouts of late, I found myself getting a bit lazy about the whole exercise thing. Frankly, I'm breaking more of a sweat trying to button my jeans these days than I am doing anything else. I figured the Wii would be a nice way to spice things up a bit. And besides, I'm a gamer...or at least I used to be. I could use this thing on many levels!

And so it is as a former gamer with a background in the slaying of all manner of ghouls, monsters and gigantic arachnids, that I tell you of my shame. How did it come to this? How did I become someone who prefers dancing for hours with a monkey in a sombrero? I used to be one of the heroes. I used to shoot first and ask questions later. Now I'm passing over the chance to explore darkened warehouses so I can go bowling. I'm horrified by this turn of events.

I'm blaming the whole thing on the need to traverse the learning curve. I keep telling myself that I should learn to manage the controllers before I go running pell mell into virtual danger. And I suppose that this is a very logical thing to do. But a part of me just can't help but cringe a bit when I get a mental picture of me playing golf. It's a short hop from there to shuffleboard. And I'm pretty sure that activity is available on the Wii Resort game that I'm picking up soon. It's only a matter of time.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen...

There is really no going back, I suppose. However, in an attempt to redeem myself (at least in the eyes of the knitters) I have cast on for another Invisibility Shawl from Charmed Knits. I knit one a while back and it gave me no end of difficulty. I don't quite know what the drama was there. It's not like it's a hard pattern. I suppose it's got something to do with the tinking difficulty that S1, K2, PSSO's present. One missed yarnover and you have to work back through a billion of these things, most of which are just dying to unravel on you. The final result, though, was rather lovely. Even considering the simplicity of the stitches, it just looked nice. I decided to do another one.

It has taken me three tries to get back into the groove with this pattern. But I've finally got it. Maybe it's all that dancing with the monkey. It is possible I've developed some rhythm over the past few days.

The red isn't part of the shawl. I don't really trim delicate lacy wraps in squeaky acrylic. Honest. I just like to really see my provisional cast on. Makes life easier later when I'm picking it out.

It's a small gesture, the knitting of a shawl in laceweight. Even if it's your own handspun laceweight. It is never going to make up for the fact that I've turned into the gaming equivalent of cream of wheat. But it's the best I can do right now.

Maybe I just need to bowl one or two more frames. Shake my maracas with the monkey a couple more times. Look into that shuffleboard game. You know, keep practicing with those controllers.

Then maybe I'll be ready to go back to that darkened warehouse...

SA