No photos of the downed tree, because it's still pouring out there (but the wind has died to just really windy in a normal way) and because the tree is already gone. The testosterone was thick in the air, let me tell you - as soon as the wind dropped below hurricane force, men with chainsaws were out there in 60mph gusts and driving rain, cutting up that tree and experiencing much male bonding. Arrr rrrr rrr. They enjoy these damn storms way too much.

So does Murphy - we had to go out and watch the Manly Men with Chainsaws cut up the giant tree, and visit with the neighbors. The storm isn't over, everybody's just over it, so we were all out there in it. We don't have any above-ground power lines (which also at least partly explains why we still have power) or flooded streets, so we weren't really taking our lives in our hands, at least not that crazily. Anyway, the rain kicked up and the wind blew really hard, another hurricane-force gust, and Murphy LOVED it - he was soaked to the bone, as was I, and trotting along in the wind, sodden hair blown back, tongue hanging out - this was a fine doggy moment. I could barely stay upright, but he's a low, ground-hugging dog, he thought it was cool. Though when he lifted his leg to pee and was actually blown over, he conceded that going in was a good idea. Besides, the wind driven rain was really hard enough to sting. I changed my clothes and used the dryer on my hair and his. Electricity - it's a good thing.

So let's talk about yarny things. I made a hat today, pink Cascade 220 from the stash, for charitable donation. Pattern from the Knitter's Handy Book of Patterns, and I'll top it with a pom-pon. A one day wonder, it got me through endless hours of wind speeds and radar images.

I tried to input my stash into a computer database and quickly got tired. I am just not that anal-retentive, and I prefer to go wander through the shitload of yarn to remember what I have, touching and feeling and planning. I often go in with the idea of one project and find something else entirely. What would a database really do for me?

I was already on a yarn fast, embarrassed by the stash excess, and the words of wisdom on No Idle Hands certainly rang true. When you're worried about the roof falling in, a massive yarn stash is little comfort. And that's coming from the queen of retail therapy - after a while enough big things happen in your life that retail therapy no longer feels right or makes sense, it just seems like pointless excess. I don't WANT to buy more yarn. I want to use the yarn I have.

I'm working on yet another felted pouch from Weekend Knitting. I think that's going to be a standard Christmas gift this year - well, not for the guys.

Oh, I thought the wind was dying down, but I was wrong, another huge blast is howling right now. This has been going on since 2 a.m., and got really bad at 5 a.m. It's almost 7 p.m. Jeanne needs to go the hell away.

Rants about "Why Is It So Hard to Find a Female Friend Who Isn't Insane and/or Totally Narcissistic?" to follow, when I have energy. I've been up since about 3:30, I'm going to retreat to my TV and my felted pouch knitting soon, and revel in Electricity. Without the noble efforts of Thomas Edison and William Haviland Carrier, there is no way in hell I'd live here. Of course, Edison's winter home in Ft. Myers had electric lights but no A/C - but then, it was his winter home. It's a wonderful place, if you ever get to Ft. Myers, do check it out. Edison & Ford Winter Estates Somewhere I have a picture of the Girlchild in front of the 400 ft. banyan tree.

Off to rot my brain on television and mindless fiber manipulations, and fall asleep as early as I can, meaning as soon as the wind quits howling.