The Saga of June 2009 Chapter 1

It would be so very groovy to say I spent June on some secret Bondsian or Bournean mission to save knitting from the forces of evil. It would be so awesome to say that I tracked down the miserable bastard who said that tragedy plus time equals comedy and gave him a good piece of my mind, as not only was he miserable, but also was stupid as the day is long. I am still waiting for some things to be funny. It would be something of such envy producing jealousy as to be legendary to say I had a private month in Ireland with the Yarn Harlot, Cat Bordhi, Lime and Violet, REM, U2 and several heartthrobs who shall remain nameless because I couldn’t bear the shame. Alas, no I couldn’t do anything that cool.

The truth is most of June has been spent with family in various venues and by and largely sober.

So, now that I am back in the Land of Blogdom, things might seem a little strange as past and present will be mixed on the blog. Things have been a bit intense in several ways, so I just needed some time to process them. I will be sure to give adequate documentation so that no one contacts Amnesty International and mounts a letter writing campaign respectfully requesting my captors set me free.

Without further adieu or mon dieu, as the case may be, begins the saga of June 2009.

I spent the first week of June getting ready for Hubby’s Family Reunion 2009. This reunion would be in a lake house in Gunthersville, Alabama (which should be renamed Hotashellabama), close to Huntsville. I made up the homemade ice cream mix, did laundry, and made three trips to Target in three days. I also learned that the return clerk doesn’t really consider cargo shorts that are too small even though Hubby wears that size as defective.

On Friday, we loaded up the rental car, a bright red Impala (drove like a brick and took years to get from 0 to 60 but only a nanosecond to go from 60 to 80) and headed South. I was starting the trip out low on energy, patience and good humor. This did not improve when it was my turn to drive. I wouldn’t call it driving. I would call it more like running the construction and bad traffic gauntlet. I also had to contend with a demon possessed GPS and a GPS obsessed husband. It could have been worse, but my imagination fails me.

We arrived at the lake house exhausted, but in one piece.