My Cup Runneth Over . . .

. . . and I'm not talking about my bra, although I could be.

Thanksgiving is a distant memory -- the food was delicious and the company interesting. The day was perfect, except I didn't get a bike ride in. I fell asleep while the last two pies were baking the night before, didn't hear the timer go off and consequently they were burnt to a crisp. So, I had to re-make those in the morning. Plus it was a little cold outside for a bike ride. Well, maybe the day wasn't quite perfect, but it was darned close.

The Christmas knitting is coming along nicely, but I foresee being jammed up in a week or so--oh well, 'tis the season for hurriedly completed projects.

Lately I've been in a baking slump--everything I've baked has been gross. The expresso-hazelnut bread went in the trash. What a waste of innocent hazelnuts. Now that I think of it, that bread deserved to be gross--the recipe doesn't even sound good. The carmel-iced banana muffins went where all really bad muffins go--trash again.

I had a firm plan to move to Montana, raise a few Alpacas and play in yarn, darkroom chemicals and bread dough in the shadow of the mountains for the rest of my life. That fell through last week when some folks in Rhode Island got the powerball money I was counting on. Fortunately I had a back-up plan. Unfortunately that plan mostly involves working and paying taxes.

This weekend (Dec 7-8-9) I'm chaperoning some Bishop Kelley high school kids on a retreat at a state park. I thought the days of doing such things were over since my kids both graduated but I was asked and . . . You can call me Ado Annie cause I really cain't say no. (lame Oklahoma! reference--sorry). The retreat should be an opportunity for LOTS of knitting since the extent of my role is to be a warm bodied adult, a task for which I am remarkably well suited. BUT, that means the Christmas decorations and the attendant cleaning won't occur this weekend. Oh well.

To continue . . . on Monday I'm driving to get Meredith from school in Atchison, Kansas. (Meredith calls it Atchi-town, residents are Atchi-folk, and odors are Atchi-stink or Atchi-funk, etc. ). I'll leave at about 4:30 am and get back home by about 5pm. It always amuses me when I drive all day and end the day in my own bed where I started. The good news, aside from having Meredith home for a month, is that I drive through Lawrence and will stop at the Yarn Barn. Maybe I'll buy a drop spindle and some roving . . . I've never tried spinning and probably shouldn't. I do NOT need to enable my stage 4 PCD (project completion disorder). But DANG, as I sit here I am ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN that's what I'll do.

Even though the Christmas decorations haven't made an appearance at my home, I apparently got overcome by seasonal cheer because I invited my MIL to ride along to Atchison. ARGHHHHHHHH I figure 10 hours in a car with her following on the heels of spending a weekend virtually locked inside a cabin with 12 high school seniors ought to move my Karma-meter waaaaaay out of the red zone. OR, does talking about the Karma-meter counter act the stored good? I am not making fun here--I just like to know the rules. Regardless, the weekend and the drive will be certain fodder for future blog posts, unless those folks in Rhode Island give me my money, then I'll just blog about that.