Stupid Cupid...

[Stop Pickin' on Me.] Not one of my favorite songs. *Much* prefer Sam Cooke's lovely, mellow "Cupid, draw back your bow" but am not in the mood to sing that one, either.

Valentine's Day is ordinarily one of my favorite holidays, even if I don't happen to be dating. Which I don't usually happen to be, but ordinarily it doesn't bother me.

Thanksgiving is *not* one of my favorite holidays -- I don't like being told to be thankful at 2:00pm on the fourth Thursday in November. And I'm not wild about touching raw poultry or blowing what used to be a week's food budget on one meal. But last year at Thanksgiving I had rather more than usual to be thankful for.

And this year at Valentine's Day, while the status has returned to quo, and I ought to be used to it by now, I'm just a wee bit cranky. It's all about the attitude and mine, frankly, stinks! My kids are healthy, my leg is mending, I still have oodles of terrific female friends and three stalwart male friends, and I seem to have most of my marbles.

*B*U*T*

You knew there was a "but", didn't you?

*But*, because I am so disappointed in the formerly-dear Brother Abacus, my last conscious thought before duking it out with the Sandman last night was [edited for the Sabbath], "Cupid can just kiss my grits."

LittleBit's threatening to print it on a T-shirt for me and give it to me on Wednesday.

Obligatory knitting content:

Three rows to go on the second Lola sock before I start decreasing for the toe.

Thirteen rows to go before I start binding off at the underarms of the fronts on the granddaughter's bolero. I had one of them ready to bind off at the shoulder on Thursday morning and compared it [all too belatedly] with the completed back and realized that my gauge on the front was *way* more loosey-goosey than on the back. To the frog pond we marched, and I've been working both fronts simultaneously and measuring them diligently against the back. I hope to finish both fronts before bedtime, and my sock.

No nap, as they say, for the weary or the wicked or the whatever. I am ever so thankful that said granddaughter is willowy and that we are putting short sleeves on this puppy and not the long ones the designer had in mind.

Random question of the day:
Has anyone else noticed that Zantac 150 is shaped just like the profile of a brilliant-cut diamond? Which led me to warble to LittleBit on the way to early morning seminary one day last week, "A kiss on the hand may be so Continental, but Zantac is a girl's best friend!"

Edited to add that while I was trying to find a picture of the Zantac to insert for you antacid-muggles, I learned that it may make me more susceptible to pneumonia. Charming. Guess that means that I'll need to budget for the pneumonia vaccine this fall. On the other hand, pneumonia would guarantee me lots of knitting time, right? Decisions, decisions.