Well, I'm back from a nice vacation in beautiful Fredericksburg, TX. My husband booked us a cottage that not only was not wired for telephone, but also out of our cell phone providers footprint. So, we were deliciously out of touch for over a week. Yummmm
Lots of knitting progress, which is nice, as the prior week was full of crankiness, and ripping. I think I went backwards more that I went forwards. On the work front, I was getting so irritable that any set back was like fingernails on the chalk board. It was either vacation or prozac.
The vacation started out badly though with a near death experience for Shiloh. The cottage was part of a small ranch, and the owner's German shepherd was not happy about another male dog on his turf. So he picked up our little guy and shook him like a squeaky toy. The land lady tackled her dog before he got back in to do more damage, and I scooped up Shiloh. I thought I had a mostly dead dog, but was pleased to see that he walked fine, and there was no blood spurting about. His face looked well after he calmed down some, and no strange noises were coming out of his chest. In the background the landlady was shocked to tears - her dog had never done such a thing, and my daughter was near hysterical. She had a dream the previous night that was this exact incident, and graphically almost the same. Creepy. The landlady called her vet, who agreed to see us right away. My husband was all cranky about how our dog was about to get a weird hair cut, but I was happy just to have him on my lap. The vet checked out Shiloh, gave him some anti-biotic, and suggested a bath and some baby aspirin. No shave job, no stitches, just one sore doggie, and a freaked out daughter and landlady. I took care of the daugher and the dog; the landlady took care of the vet bill, so all ended well.