• I’m on one of those pills that allows only three periods a year. Or maybe it’s four. I never can remember because my doctor’s prescription indicates that I skip the placebo pills and avoid that period business altogether because it makes me certifiable. On the months when I’m supposed to have a period – like this one – I still slightly boarder on certifiable. I love this, but no one seems to love it as much as I do.
  • Probably at least a little because of this, I had a spell this weekend of feeling really unnecessary and unneeded. It wasn’t fun.
  • I popped my knee Saturday afternoon and hurt it badly enough that I had to bail on seeing “Sex and the City” with the Dog Balls Knit Club. I’m crabby about this, and thinking maybe I should take Clara Jane to see a matinee of it tomorrow because I’m out of things to do with her.
  • Fucking hot-ass summer weather already.
  • Remember those strawberries we picked last week? Ten half-pints of jam and six pints of strawberry-lemonade concentrate in my pantry. Booya. The gory details will be on Paper Palate in the near future, along with a shit-ton of other things I wrote this weekend.
  • I’ve got eight billion unfinished knitting projects so what did I decide to do last night? Start knitting scarves for charity. Ravelry’s Knitters for Obama group is doing a drive to donate scarves, hats, and such to a shelter for homeless veterans. The fact that the phrases “homeless” and “veteran” are so often paired makes me insane with rage so I’m going to knit scarves until my fingers bleed.
  • I’ve got a book idea kicking around in my head but I’m too busy knitting rage scarves to do anything about it.
  • We’ve continued the trips to the pool and Clara Jane’s still making progress, although we nearly had a setback yesterday. Apparently it was open swim hour for “Lord of the Flies” characters when we were there. If you were an 11-year-old boy, would you be terrified by a big fat tattooed lady reading you the riot act regarding what will occur if they splash her daughter one more fucking time?
  • Buy a hat and get ready to hold the fuck onto it.