The News

I like the news.  Kate shows her bump, if you could call that a bump.  I loved my bumps, especially when my bump turned into a double bump.  Women didn't show their bumps 30 years ago, and nobody was interested in taking a picture of my bump.  A bump story....when father of double bump and I went to a  Jewish hotel in the Catskills for a Hadassah Convention, a photographer was taking pictures of couples walking in to the dining room.  We paused and he snapped.  Later on the photos were waiting at a table in the lobby for people to purchase.  I said, let's buy our picture.  He said, and I'm serious, why would you want a picture of yourself when you're pregnant?  I guess that's why I don't have any pictures of my beautiful naked belly full of twins.   And I also guess that's one of the many reasons why I am no longer in that partnership.  There we are.  For the here and now.  Oh, the news.  The Oscar and Reeva tragedy is taking a good deal of air time up on the telly.  Fascinating - love, sex and violence.  How sad.  That lovely, intelligent girl is gunned down by her IDIOT boyfriend.  I almost hope he was drunk, because that might account for him being such a stupid jerk.  Shooting at a noise through the door when you haven't even checked where the other person in the apartment is.  I hope she wasn't sitting on the throne.  I don't think he murdered her - I think he was too dumb to check where the person was before he opened up on a perceived threat.  Joe Biden tells the American public they don't need AR-15 assault rifles.  He says they need double barrel shot guns.  Okay, Joe.  Our President calls up Tiger Woods for a golf date.  Sorry - I think that's a bad move.  Why BHO wants to hob-nob with a philandering, lying  as*&^%le is unbecoming a Commander-In-Chief.  Not a good move.  The sequestration threatens to cut jobs and day care, and he's playing golf with Tiger Woods.  A poor girl gets thrown into a water tower on top of a hotel in San Francisco.  Now that's a good topic for a murder mystery.  Life on the farm is much more predictable.  I have my own problems to solve, like how I'm going to get all this wool picked, washed and dyed, and DRIED, so I can get it out to the mill.  John, my personal carder for years, read me the riot act last year and told me he had to have all my wool at least three weeks before Maryland Sheep and Wool or he would not do it.  No more last minute rush orders.  Gee, John, I thought I was your best customer.  Anyway, I'll do what I can.  Every lock from a mountain of fleeces must be pulled apart, allowing every bit of hay, burdock and manure to fall out.  I like to do it in front of the TV but that is a signal for new dog, Cooper, to sneak bit of wool away to chew on when I'm not looking.  He will learn what the other dogs know, that the wool keeps our farm going and Mommy must do her work.  I love when the big balls of beautiful and colorful soft wool comes home from the mill.  All the wool I don't sell at Maryland will come to the Bouckville show in June and the Hamilton Farmer's Market over the summer.  I have a pinkish red "Lipstick" run going, and a turquoise/salmon/brown/gold run.  I never know exactly how it's going to come out, but John works his magic with my fiber and it's always wonderful.  Better get to doing chores and picking more wool.  Day's a wasting.