I'm adding increases in the center solid section on the back of the calf. What I don't like about this pattern is that the curls around while I'm knitting. It looks like I'm knitting on the back of the calf when I'm actually knitting the front portion. I'll try to get a picture in the daylight either Thursday or Friday when I'm off.
Just eight more posts to NaBloPoMo. I think I can consider at this point I've made it. My second try I succeeded in 2008, though I have to say it was pretty hard. I was home all the time watching my granddaughter 14 hours a day. It was hard to think of things to post about. Going out everyday, Tucson never fails to provide more amusement.
(This picture serves no real purpose other than something to look at)
This soul sucking, un-creative job has my mind just jumping with imagination once I'm unshackled from the phone. I officially dislike working Sundays. Not so much, the fact that it's Sunday, it's that I've officially dubbed it Stupid People Sunday. I get some of the dumbest people calling on Sunday.
For your amusement, I will tell you about the worst part of my Sunday. It's the bus ride home. The past three weeks, it's been the same fat, obstreperous, jerk of a bus driver. He glares at me when I ask for a transfer. Then he waits til I put in my very last dime and heaves his beefy arm over to push the button. He makes such a display of inconvenience in this act of moving his arm six inches to push a button.
(This one too.)
Even though it was 73F outside, today he had the heat running full blast. Besides making the temperature extremely uncomfortable, the bus smelled like a combination of a U-Haul full of unwashed Mexicans and urine. Halfway through the ride, a guy came on and sat down next to me reeking of cheap cologne. You know the kind, the $2.00 cheap spritzers they buy by the caseload at the Family Dollar. At that point, I actually considered getting off and walking the seven miles to my next stop. Just for some fresh air. Except, if I had, I would have missed the guy getting on at the next stop.
I have to say, most of the normal folk that get on the busses would be weirdos in other cities. In two years, I've gotten used to them and barely raise an eyebrow anymore. Full body tattoos, body piercings and enough metal to supply ammunition for a small war.
Riding the bus, I have my earbuds in with music blaring and only look up from my knitting long enough to figure how much longer til my stop. The guy that got on was enough for me to look up from my knitting with rapt attention. He looked normal enough with a t-shirt and shorts. Too clean to be a homeless guy. He carried three large duffle bags, two back packs, a brief case and what really caught my attention was what looked like a nylon rifle case.
He sat down and proceeded to arrange the overstuffed bags on the seats and floor around them. Then he laid what looked like a rifle bag across his lap. This really didn't seem too odd, as this is the conceal and carry state. It's said, they issue side arms as you cross the boarder into the state. What concerned me was when he began to unzip it and pull a wooden item that at seemed at first, to be shaped like a rifle.
Well crap, I thought, this guy sitting directly across from me is about to open fire on the bus. There certainly wouldn't be any help coming from the bus driver who had a hard time moving his beefy arm six inches and push a button.
It ended up being a small square body mandolin. It appeared to be homemade. The man then proceeded to pull out a tuner, tune it then carefully polish it. Relieved, I returned to my knitting.
Duane got to watch his Bears win on the TeeVee, this put him in a good mood. He asked me to take a picture of him in his Bears gear next to the grill. For those interested, he made barbequed buffalo ribs, barbequed pork roast, homemade German potato salad and applesauce.
This my Wednesday on a Monday. It doesn't bode well. The weatherman is calling for rain.
Try to have a good day, even if it is a Monday.