Windmills of My Mind

I know it’s been a while since my last real post, so I wanted to let you guys know I’m still here!  Actually, I’ve been having quite the time trying to think of something to write about, and I guess I’ve just been busier than I realize with work, finding another part-time job, building my resume and filling out applications (and preparing for a possible interview--no more on that since I don't want to jinx it), and cleaning out my closets, dresser drawers, and *gulp* the stash (which wasn't as much of a yarn stash as it was a useless junk stash).  That’s been a major undertaking with all the crap I’ve accumulated. 

Anyway, I thought this would be a good time to take a breather, and to share some of what's been going on lately.

 

 Back to School?

 

Normally at this time of year, I would already be sucked into the mad whirlwind that is back-to-school season:  getting ready for classes, complaining about textbook prices, cramming the car with all the essentials and nonessential alike,  moving back into the apartments. 

Now that I've graduated, I'm kind of in that awkward in-between phase where I'm happy I don't have to board that crazy train, but at the same time, I kind of, maybe, almost miss it.  I think it might be the nostalgia for a more idealized version of school; I might be a victim of what I have dubbed "freshmanitis".  

We've pretty much all heard of senioritis, in which the afflicted is a senior in high school or college, distracted from his or her current tasks by the overwhelming desire to "just get it over with already" and be done forever with further scholastic chores.  Symptoms include a decrease in motivation, occasionally coinciding with an increase in daydreaming and/or partying (usually if the patient is a college student) or other social activities. 

 

On the other hand, freshmanitis usually affects former college students, and can trigger a longing for those "happy" days in the freshman dorms where everyone got to know each other, future lifelong friends were made, independence was finally realized, and the pressures of college applications were just a recent memory.  Symptoms include an inexplicable desire to shop for new school supplies, occasional nightly dreams of attending lectures (and sometimes nightmares of being late for class), memories of what may be an idealized freshman year, and forgetfulness of what really happened during your actual freshman year--good, bad, or indifferent.

My mind has been pumping me up for the (nonexistent) trip back up to the central coast, new classes, and new roommates, all with absolutely no sense of dread, anxiety, or reservation. Yep, there's no denying that I have it bad.

As far as the question mark after my "back to school", it has been suggested that I do indeed go back and find something to further my career path.  I have thought of hitting the books again, but let's just say it's going to be quite a ways off.   

 

 

The Dog

I love my dog.  I’ve had him since he was three months old, and he will be 7 years in September.



Here he is then (I love this picture, especially the way my mom is looking at him and. talking to him)...





...and now.  As of just this minute as I'm posting.

 

However, there are times when he can be a little pain in the butt, especially when he wants attention—this can be particularly messy if my knitting is unsupervised.

A couple weekends ago, I went up to get the mail.  I had left my door to my room open to catch the lovely breeze that was coming through the house.  Little did I realize that my lace-shawl-in-progress, which I thought was well out of the beagle’s reach, was in danger.  I came back in to find this:

 

The horror!!

 

Of course, this was taken after I picked my dear project up off the floor.  Fortunately, it was just the ball of yarn and not the knitting itself that he had gotten to, and even then it’s not entirely beyond repair (though actually doing so is gonna be a b***h), but you get the idea of the sheer horror I felt.  I just wish I could have captured a photograph of the culprit’s very guilty beagle face. 

Sadly, this is not the first time this had happened; the first time, I was working on spinning the bundle of roving into my first yarn when I heard a rustling coming from under my bed.  Generally, I’ll let the beagle in my room if he just stays under my bed or on top of his own, so this rustling wasn’t unusual.  However, the way he was dashing to the living room made me suspicious.  About two minutes later, my dad came into the kitchen with a very familiar ball of blue merino/mohair/silk laceweight.  Turns out, the little scamp had gotten to the second half of the skein and had swallowed about three feet of yarn, and still had some sticking out of his mouth.  I wish I could have been there to see it, because Dad’s story keeps changing.  The moral of the story: there’s no hiding anything from a hound dog.  Oh yeah, and fool me once shame on you, fool me twice shame on me.