What a beautiful, glorious weekend!

I almost overslept Saturday morning - well, I did oversleep, but managed to run around in a mad panic enough to still meet Julie on time. And in that mad panic, I asked GB for money (I had some already, but I didn't want to spend that on frivolous things like food - my money is for yarn!) and in his waking, dazed state, he gave me more than I expected. That meant I got to splurge on some lovely yarn, enough to make a sweater, and still feel like I was getting most of what I wanted, and didn't leave at all unfulfilled. The splurge yarn was some stunning Tess superwash merino, in the Lime Splash colorway. Mostly a bright blue, there's just enough lime tossed in that when rolled into a ball (which was such a lovely sinfully silky experience I'm not sure it should be legal) it seems to sparkle. I think that yarn wants to be a cardigan, if I can find the right buttons. I also tried out several wheels, and am at a true dilemma as to which to get - two have my heart, for different reasons, and I have resigned myself that I must have both, it's just a matter of which to get first, and which will be my second wheel some years down the road. Since I'm determined to buy a wheel, I had to buy some starter fiber (ha! I've already got 5 pounds of gorgeous stuff at home, some silk, some wool... but that whole "starter" thing sounded like a good excuse, didn't it?) and I got a great deal on enough merino/silk blend to mess up a few times and still come out with a nice head wrap - maybe a mobius scarf? Then I ran across Anna Zilboorg's book Knitting for Anarchists and had to have that as well, since Annie Modesitt has spoken so highly of it. (It's not too obvious that I've just learned how to add links inside my posts, is it?) So there my money was gone before lunch, but I didn't feel bad about it - my purchases were well worth it, and it meant I could drop things off at the car and not get loaded down while I set off to play a little more. We had a wonderful lunch with the Knitters Review ladies and spending time with Bess and Jenn and Martha and Clara and Lissa... heavenly anytime. Spending time with them on a grassy spread of grass half covered with yarn and fiber and the faint smell of sheep and other wee beasties is just beyond it all.

I was so lucky to be able to be back both days! The threat of rain meant the crowds were significantly less on Sunday, and GB and the worlds greatest stepson Dylan came with. My excitement must have been contageous, for in the car on the way there (in addition to a sing-along of "(The Sun'll Come Out) Tomorrow" in attempts to sway the weather) Dylan started asking if he could try a spinning wheel. When we got there, we wandered towards the Woolie Winder booth, where they had a Lendrum set up, and I asked if we could try it. I spun for a moment, and was reminded of how very much I love to spin on the Lendrum, and Dylan sat down a moment later and did VERY well! (Of course, we weren't 5 feet from the booth when the poor man working there had to set about breaking off the yarn and starting a new thread because of the useless over-spun yarn Dylan had made, but for a first time he did heroically! It's a lot to put together, and I'm sure made even harder by being in a body that's growing faster than you can keep up!) He was obviously enjoying himself a great deal, and at lunch, Bess taught him how to drop spindle - he immediately started asking for one, so I've given him the one I've had for a few years, along with some scrap fiber I already had. He's also asked me to teach him how to knit, and we've decided we're going to knit him a hat. How exciting! I hope it's something he can love, even though it's not a typical activity for a young boy in this culture. To hear him say "I made yarn!" ... well, knitters and spinners know that feeling. When he left for home he was spinning on his way to the car, and GB said he started up again as soon as he got to his mother's.

I settled down to snuggle with my new yarn (that Tess really is breathtaking!) and it started to hail. Which means in comes Oscar, who normally spends most of his nights outside, if the weather's nice. Aslan didn't feel that hail meant the weather was bad enough that that ... that ... dog should have to invade on his domain, but I got them settled down enough to take a shower (um, me shower, not the cats or dog). I heard a few odd noises while I was in the shower, but didn't think too much of it, figuring it was the storm.

But then when I got out of the shower, no one was there. Not to imply that me looking like a naked drowned rat is something that most would enjoy, but Aslan tends to glue himself to my side when I'm in the house, so having him not sitting on the sink while I shower is a bit unusual. And Oscar hadn't come in either, so it wasn't C.A.S. (Canine Avoidance Syndrome) which is occasionally the excuse.

The rest of the house was silent.

I called Aslan.

Still silent.

Now getting a little worried that Oscar had figured out that he is a 50 pound pitbull who didn't need to allow himself to be bullied by an 8 pound declawed cat, I called for Oscar, and still got silence.

I walked timidly into the living room, almost afraid of what I might find.

Before I tell you what it was that I did find, let me explain the set up briefly. There is a bookshelf just to your left when you enter the house. Next to that bookshelf is a large recliner. The space between these is approximately... hmmm... I'd say the exact width of a pitbull's shoulders.

I would make this guess because what I found upon entering my living room was Trevor and Aslan sitting on the recliner, calmly keeping Oscar wedged between the chair and bookshelf, terrified. The poor baby *ahem* pitbull-for-goodness-sake had been chased into that small space, and was now there, obviously not permitted movement by the cats. Even with me right behind him, when I said his name, he didn't even turn his head, just twitched an ear... which prompted a growl from Aslan, immediately stopping all movement entirely. Fortunately, GB came home at just that moment, providing enough distraction that I could sweep up the cats and he could grab Oscar and put him to bed (the only furniture Oscar is allowed on is a couch, covered with a sleeping bag in a spare bedroom, and he leaps onto it with reckless abandon) saying to him "I feel it will greatly improve your quality of life if we put a door between you and the cats." Poor sweet baby.

For those who have been asking, Oscar is doing very well. Aside from his life as a feline torture device, his jumping up is now a rarity (so the bruises on my legs and hips should be able to heal!) and he knows exactly what to do when someone says "sit" - granted, it's often more of a "brush your butt on the ground for the briefest of moments" because it's so difficult to sit when you're that excited, but he tries. "Down" means lie down, and he wants so much to do the right thing that I'm surprised he hasn't broken his own ribs slamming himself to the ground the way he does. We've taken a few steps back in command response, since we've been spending afternoons with some other dogs who's parents are out of town, but I think in the long run the socialization will balence out his slide in training. It's important that he learn that it's not neccessary to jump all over every new dog and person he meets! I think he's doing marvelously, and he's going to be a fantastic dog when he gets a little maturity... wish we could keep him...

Well, since I got nothing done Thursday or Friday, I suppose I should get some work done today... I imagine I'll still spend most of it daydreaming about my glorious Sheep & Wool weekend!

Thoughts for the Day:
William Wordsworth - “One of those heavenly days that cannot die.”

Georgia Witkin - “Cultivate more joy by arranging your life so that more joy will be likely.”