I Was Expecting Locusts Instead

Thank you so much for all the kind comments following the death of my father. It really does help to know that others are thinking of you during difficult times, and I appreciated each and every note.

Although the past few weeks have been sad and draining, they also included many moments where I laughed through my tears. My father was a renowned smartass and I heard several new stories about him from friends and family members. His funeral was standing room only, and our many gatherings after his death were truly celebrations of his life. He was not a saint, but he was a wonderful husband, brother, and father. And I am lucky in that my grief is uncomplicated by bitterness, regrets, or unfinished business.
Now it's back to the minutiae of daily life. Everything is different, and yet everything is the same. I seem to be operating in a bit of a fog, but it's not unlike the months of sleep deprivation following the birth of a baby, and I have a track record for surviving that with only a minimum of psychosis.

Unfortunately, daily life lacks no excitement around here. A week after my father's funeral, at 10pm on a quiet Friday evening, my enjoyment of the audio version of Book Seven was interrupted by a loud popping noise followed by some rustling and a huge thud. I looked out my front window to see what was going on but my vision was obscured by a rather large oak limb.

Rather impressive, wouldn't you say? We are incredibly lucky because it did not damage the house at all, and no one was hurt. The arborist who came a few days later told us that the tree itself was healthy, but that this particular branch had developed a rotten spot that no one could have seen prior to its break. Just a random, scary thing. Since we already had to pay for the tree removal, we did choose to have that same arborist come and remove dead limbs from three of our oaks.

So. You would think that after a cancelled vacation, a volunteer commitment from hell, the illness and death of a family member, crashing tree limbs, and the as-of-yet-unmentioned-here death of our second car, the rest of my summer would be smooth sailing. But that would be a lot to ask. I joked with my sister that I was expecting locusts or plague next.

We got a bat instead.

He (or she?) showed up on Wednesday evening. DH and I spent several hours trying to direct the damn thing out of one of a multitude of open windows and doors. To no avail. At 1:30 a.m. he finally disappeared into a hiding place behind a built-in cabinet that even the "bat guy" could not access on Thursday (exorbitant fee notwithstanding). On Thursday evening Mr. Bat made another grand entrance and we THINK that he did fly out the door around 9pm. There were no witnesses but he has not been seen since.

Let me just note that I can handle many things, but bats are not on that list. There was much freaking out and anxiety, and possibly the beginnings of a nervous breakdown. I am on the edge, I'm telling you, and the rest of August better be kind or who knows where I will end up.

On a final note--and one that is actually knitting related--there are socks and a scarf in progress. This photo is several weeks old; I have now turned the heels on these "tiger socks" for my seven-year-old (in colors to match her favorite Webkinz).

I have also mostly finished the scarf below, which is knit from two skeins of my handspun. This picture was taken partway through when I discovered a small problem with my yarn; can you see what it is? More info and the details on my correction in a later post!