Poor Pitiful Me

Saturday was my 41st birthday. It was such a bad day, it made me cry. Logan argued and harangued the kids all day, so there was much screaming, crying, wailing, and gnashing of teeth. Nothing went right. Logan told me happy birthday, but no card, no present, not even a kiss. The kids had even forgotten it was my birthday. The day was only redeemed (and only slightly) by spending the evening with Herbie, Susan, Eric, and Heather.

I went over to Herbie's to help bake for her daughter's bake sale which benefitted the Red Cross, but I was so cross that all I felt like doing was knitting (repetitive movements tend to calm me) and drinking red wine (numb the brain, doncha know?). Luckily, Susan and Herbie swung into full Happy Homemaker mode and baked up a storm. I was impressed. The bake sale made somewhere around $250 last I heard.

Monday, I got a gift card to Hobby Lobby in the mail from Louise. I bought (on sale) an encyclopedia of knitting (half price), several different sizes of knitting needles (half price), and some yarn (not on sale). I've started a lovely forest green scarf for Logan, then will make a variegated green (kelly green, dark green, white, and cream) one for Weyland. Once I'm skilled enough, I'll make a shawl for Brighid in black, and something for Louise (haven't decided yet). I wonder if I'll someday be able to make socks like Susan. She's gotten very good. Other things in the works are cross-stitched pieces, but they are not quite so interesting as knitting to me now.

In other news, Weyland finally had a sucessful dental appointment. He was able to see a lady pediatric dentist since I switched insurance companies to one which agreed that a 9 year old was still a child. (Everyone at Aeta DMO is going to hell when they die, to appropriate Granny's curse. She used to say all doctors, lawyers, and preachers would share that fate, but HMOs and DMOs weren't invented yet in her day.) He didn't even have to be sedated, which pleased me. He liked the fact that the dentist had video games he could play, the chair was his size, and she positioned a mirror so that he could watch what she was doing. Apparently, control was an issue for Weyland. I'll have to keep that in mind for later.