I'm back!

I haven't been here in a while, mostly because I've been busy. I start my new job tomorrow (or I guess I should say, today). I'm nervous, but mostly about the heat. I haven't had to deal with the heat in a few years, so I'm not used to it. It gives me migraines. Yay.

I haven't done much knitting lately. I think it's just too hot to knit. I think about it a lot, but never seem to get around to it.

So sick of puppies. Still have five left. Sigh.

Holy shit.

I just realized that I'm gonna have to go back to work. Probably this week. I'm just debating on when I wanna go back. My regular days off are Sunday and Monday. My appt for the re-evaluation is Wednesday. I can probably get by with going back next Tuesday (my "Monday"), but I'm not sure that I want to be thrown back into the swing of things 1) on an early weekday, and 2) when I'll have to work five straight days.

Should I go back on Friday, which is normally crazy for the first few hours, and then slacks off? Or Saturday, just to get my feet wet, which is normally calm enough that I can even get some knitting done? I'm really leaning toward Friday, not only because it will save me a day of leave, but also because I can really get back to work as it normally is, and make sure I can handle it.

I am sure I can handle it. I'm just not entirely sure I can handle it without drugs. I'll be asking for a refill on my emergency pills, just in case, but I'd really like to be able to make it through my workday without needing to self-medicate.

The only part of it that still sends me into a panic attack is the thought of the phone calls. Particularly, the phone calls from psycho relatives of inmates, who insist that I, personally, will be going to federal prison for beating their son-husband-grandson-nephew-friend-babydaddy. Or the calls from the new girlfriend or fiance of the inmate who doesn't understand why she can't bring her child to visit him, because her child is a boy, and he raped his daughter. Or a repeat of my all-time favorite phone call in which I refused (at almost friggin midnight, by the way) to give a woman information on why her "friend" was in confinement, or when he would be released from confinement, to which she replied, "Thanks for nothing, you fucking bitch!" before slamming the phone down in my ear. Seriously, I can't make this shit up.

Remind me to tell y'all sometime of some of my more memorable, hilarious phone calls, like the lady who (I swear) must have escaped from the loony bin and then called me from a payphone, or the inmate's sister who called twenty-seven times in two days (seriously, we recognized her voice and kept track, just for fun) because she was worried about her brother (who was 35 years old, and in prison for beating a pregnant woman), including when she asked my clerk if the top bunks had rails, because he was afraid of heights.

I just keep telling myself that my truck will be paid for in less than three years, and then a change in career might actually be possible. Until then, it's deal with the psycho phone calls, or the inmates themselves, and at least over the phone, their families smell better.

One down, ten to go!

Well, the very nice man and his two little girls came to pick up a puppy today. They took the little brown and white male. He's such a sweet baby, and I know he will make them a good dog.

The man was so nice, he even helped me track down all the bad little pups that escaped the pen when I tried to get the one they came for. And his four year old told me that she didn't like the black dogs, because they were bad! That was pretty funny. Of course, they had knocked over their water and there was mud everywhere, and the children were in white dresses. Ugh. I ended up picking up the four year old to keep the escapees off of her while he went back to his car to call his wife.

We thought he was getting two of them, but the lady (his wife's friend) that wanted one changed her mind at the last minute. Sigh. Oh well. One more down, ten to go.

New Sweater

I've been working for a few days now on a raglan sweater. I've never made one before, and it's turning out really well. I got this yarn a while back with the intention of knitting a sweater out of it, but I hadn't decided on a pattern. It's about four inches past the armpit now, and so pretty! I've decided if I get tired of plain stockinette stitching, I can always take a break and do the neck finishing early, or work on the sleeves.

On the puppy front, we've got a guy coming out tomorrow to pick one out. I think he picked Oompa Loompa from the picture (the one in the middle who looks like she's smiling) but he wanted to see all of them before he made a decision. It would be really nice if he wanted two, but I'll just be happy to have a home for one of them.

I've had a migraine since six this morning, so I've been dealing with that all day. And the pups are inside because it's SO FRIGGIN HOT outside, so we decided that they could stay in. They've been pretty good so far, thank goodness.

Happy Mothers Day to all the moms out there!

It's really finished!

I only had to wash it once, and it turned out great! The straps are a little wider than I wanted them to be, but other than that, it's cool.

More pics

Here are a few pics of the purse, pre-felting, with a tape measure thrown in for scale. The bag itself measures 16 inches, and the straps are about 12 inches long after being attached to the bag.

Caution! Actual knitting content!

I finally finished the soon-to-be felted bag. I actually over finished it. I had been mindlessly knitting away on the second strap, which last night had seemed like it would NEVER be long enough. Then I measured it this afternoon, and it was three inches too long. Dang it all to heck!

So I threaded a lifeline at the appropriate length and ripped it back. Then I sewed it all up, and took pictures for your enjoyment, and also as documentation of the felting process. Here it is, with the knitting and finishing completed:

Back from shopping, yay!

We just got back from shopping, momma and I. We had fun. We ogled all the yarn at Hobby Lobby (love that store) since we have no LYS to shop in. I got some fuzzy mystery fiber yarn to knit a throw with that feels softer than a cat's fur. Yeah, it's some kind of acrylic. I don't care. It's reallllly soft and will make a pretty throw, something I can zone out and knit while watching TV.

And I got the Groundhog a new BDU camo jacket. He has worn out three of these since we've been together, and I've been meaning to get him another one. He'll be a happy Groundhog when he gets home.

Momma came inside (to use the bathroom, duh) and checked out the kitchen remodel we did. She loved it! I knew she would if she ever got to see it. She didn't come inside this morning, out of concession to the Groundhog (he was home and embarrassed that the house was messy). She said she didn't care what it looked like, she knows I'm a slob, and we have more critters than are manageable in a house this size.

She brought us some green beans and new potatoes from her garden, so I'm gonna cook them for supper. Yum. She looked at the puppies, and said they needed to go before they get to that awkward leggy stage. They're still little and cute right now, so it's the time to take them to the grocery store parking lot on a Saturday morning and give them away. I may just have to do that tomorrow.

I'm so tired

I'm up early, so I can get ready to go out with momma. I had to puppy wrangle, and now I'm dirty and exhausted. Is it too much to ask that they just go get in the damn pen??? No, I had to chase all eleven of them this morning, some from the front forty (acres) and some from the neighbor's yard.

Gotta go get ready so I can leave when she gets here. Hope to get some knitting done during the drive to wherever we end up.

Ugh.

Does anyone else have to do a frantic house cleaning when their mothers are going to visit? Of course they do. Everyone does. And it's impossible to clean to mom's specifications, isn't it? Unfortunately, we live in a house my mother owns, and therefore, inspections are just kinda part of the deal. We've been scrambling around, trying to make the house acceptable. It's still pretty bad, but what can be expected with all the critters? And the Groundhog has the flu. Yay.

He's hoping I can convince her to stay outside when she picks me up. I'm betting she's going to need to go to the bathroom when she gets here (we're about an hour from her house), and it's inevitable that she's going to come inside. I told him that she's likely to be so pissed about the holes the puppy chewed in the wall that she won't even notice the dirt. We can only hope.

Didn't get any knitting done today. I had to spend a few hours with my in-laws, and I'm wiped out emotionally. They just suck the life out of me. I'm off to do more cleaning, and take an emergency tranquilizer to recover from the in-laws. Ugh.

Blogging, huh?

Never thought I would end up doing this. I've never been much for writing in a journal or anything like that. But I figured, what the hell? I'll do this as long as it's entertaining.

A bit of background: I live in farm country in North Florida, aka Bum Fuck Egypt. Our house is situated smack in the middle of eighty acres of hay field, which are owned by my uncle. We have three big dogs, currently eleven puppies (anybody want a puppy?) four cats and three fish. I've been married to the Groundhog for six years as of tomorrow (Happy Anniversary to us!) and we have no children.

I work at a prison as a Sergeant. I'm currently out on "stress leave" which is a nice way of saying that I threatened to kill myself and take people with me. Only people who needed killing, but still. Not a good feeling knowing that I was required to carry the keys to the mini arsenal when I was at work. It's one thing to feel like killing people, it's entirely another to have that urge and access to four shotguns, four .38 caliber revolvers and two nine millimeters, and a whole lot of ammo.

So my doctor decided to change my anti-depressant meds. Which I needed to do months ago, but I put it off, because I knew I would end up on extended sick leave from work during the transition. But what is accrued sick leave for, if not to keep you from killing people? I should probably state here that I doubt I would have actually killed anyone, or myself, but I did have a very strong urge to do so, and it scared the hell out of me.

I've been on the new meds for three weeks now, and I'm starting to feel better. Good enough that the Groundhog and I feel like it's okay for me to stay home alone when he goes to work, which I was unable to do for the first three weeks I was out. I'm seeing a shrink, and a counselor, and it looks like I'm going to recover from this mess afterall. I wondered for a while there.

I'll get to some knitting progress eventually, I promise. In the mean time, would anybody like a puppy???