Saturday morning something came down off the shelf for a visit.
After tinking back a couple of rows and picking up the dropped cabled stitch, and then wondering what the hell I had been doing while I was knitting, I then tinked back to the ending of the previous pattern repeat. What a dummy. The end is in sight, fortunately, because I did some math and I got approximately 28 pattern repeats out of the first skein. Now these are 8 row pattern repeats, and I’ve completed 10 on the second skein, so only 18 more pattern repeats to complete, which is equal to 144 more rows, or 6048 more stitches. Egads, according to my 7th grade math level, that means I should complete this scarf in time for New Year’s Eve. It was nice to have it fixed. And it was my companion during the Portugal/Iran game.
Later in the afternoon we headed out the door only to find, wait, what is that I see over the railing of this bridge?
Is that a Ferris wheel? I do believe it is! And a Ferris wheel on this weekend must mean that the Spencerport carnival is taking place. If there is a place where money is to be spent, then we must be there. Some of us rode the rides.
All of us played bingo.
One of us won, he who shall remain nameless, but he used his winnings to claim, no not brand new cookie sheets, but a Scarface poster. This should go well in his room along with his Tupac picture he won. For the record, those goldfish pictured in the front of the picture didn't even make it through the night. I believe we were chosen to help them onto the Rainbow Bridge. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. And some of us played shoot out the star and came very close to winning.
I know, look at those tight groups. In a few more sessions I bet I could win – but who wants to keep playing a game at three bucks a pop where the weapon only shoots in three round bursts -- it expends those 100 alloted BB's pretty quickly. I think it would be cheaper to go to a shooting range. DN2 even played this game and did quite well. I’m so proud.
We avoided spending money on t-shirts that perpetuate incorrect grammar -- check out design # 165.
Yeah, okay. Whatever. You had better get spell check for your t-shirts or you're going to go out of business.
It was time to head home and check on the animals. Oh, you mean I didn't tell you about the dog Designated Husband (DH) got? Yes, a German Shepherd that he promptly named Nikita, ignoring all my suggestions of heroines from Greek myths. Bah. But here she is, looking quizzically at the man she knows as "Daddy".
Benno is quite musical and moves too fast on the organ pedals for my slow shutter speed.
And Simone just can't be bothered with any of us.
Speaking of plants, we bought some snapdragons at the Farmer's Market that opened on Sunday. I do love Farmer's Markets, but there is one thing I don't like -- a Farmer's Market Cheater (FMC). Most of the vendors have their own farms and they sell things that they grow there, at least that is what most of us would like to believe, and for the most part this is true. But there was a blatant FMC there on Sunday. How do I know? Well, if you have an open 50 lb bag of potatoes on the lift of your truck and then you remove potatoes from this bag and place them in little quart containers, don't you think that's cheating? And no, they were not potatoes coming from a bushel basket. It would be as if one of us bought a large bag at the grocery store and then sold them individually. They were also selling "homemade" Apple Butter and preserves, but I thought, well I recognize those labels, and of course I did, because I'd purchased these same "homemade" goodies in Maryland, because they are all made in Frederick, Maryland. An FMC, for sure. And unfortunately for all I know, the guy from whom I purchased my snapdragons probably bought them at Wal-Mart. I'd like to think he didn't, but I'll never know, will I? We did enjoy some yummy, yummy strawberries from the Market and I wish I could bottle up their fragrance and keep it in my home. What's that? Yankee Candles has already done that? Oh, okay, I'll check into that. Honestly, strawberry season is a special time, isn't it?
Like all good things our weekend had to come to an end, but I'm sure that next weekend will bring more exciting events. I know for sure some of us are going on the Garden Club tour. Who would that be, you ask? Well the one living in this house who is a crack shot. Oh yes, that would be me.