Buncha Hooligans

It occurred to me over the weekend that my children may have a hard time finding their best path of rebellion against me, what with my belonging to a motorcycle gang, and all.  True, the "gang" are all my siblings, and we are pretty tame, all things considered, but I think my kids may have to become arch conservatives or something if they really want to shock and appall me.

 L to R:  Ian, my brother's dog, Monica, my SIL, David, my brother, Lindsay, my daughter, me, and Susie, my sister

L to R:  Ian, my brother's dog, Monica, my SIL, David, my brother, Lindsay, my daughter, me, and Susie, my sister

Here are some of us, after about 100 miles on Sunday.  You will notice that I am not knitting in this picture.  Yeah, yeah, I know: them sweaters cain't knit theirselves.  But sometimes you just have to bust out and do something, even if it's wrong.  And if riding motorcycles is wrong, baby, I don't wanna be right.

During the unscheduled interruption since my last post, I have

Celebrated my brother in law's 50th birthday, which resulted in 15 houseguests for him and my sister
Put 300 miles on the bike's odometer
Took on a design project for Knit Picks (this is so cool I couldn't say no - stay tuned for sneak peeks!)
Finished and blocked a sweater body
Started 2 sleeves
Kidnapped my mom to in an effort to trick her into helping me knit (or at least cheer me on while I do)
Had a meeting with the lovely and talented Linda Roghaar (the Literary Lovely who has been my agent for half a year without ever having slapped eyes on me)
Broken my vow of yarn abstinence (it wasn't my fault:  Linda made me meet her at Village Yarn & Tea, where they were having a sale, and you know the rest - just don't squeal to my husband and nobody gets hurt)
Returned Phillip and the Smallies to School, kicking and screaming (just Phillip, actually; the kids were pleased to go)
Washed, dried, folded and stored 472 loads of laundry, resulting in a small crater (okay, indentation) on the north face of Mount Washmore
Continued trying to teach two kittens that my blocking board is not a kitten amusement sliding aparatus (good luck with that)

So, nothing much is going on here at Knitting Book Ground Zero.  I don't sleep anymore so much as enter temporary comas.