Little Ones

Next week is Amy's Sale at which I get to try to sell my beaded jewellery.

My inventory is pretty decent, all-in-all, as I've been adding to it continually during the year.

Still, it's always nice to be able to add a few pairs of earrings at the last minute.

Some of the Panspora beads had been made some time ago, just resting in a baggie.

Some I made today.

And some were made in the past couple of weeks.

Now I'm debating what to do with the oddies: try to make another one the same to get a pair of earrings, or combine with coordinating beads for a pendant or semi-mismatched earrings, or (if there are big enough families) into necklaces.

Jury's still out.

Julia came for a short visit this weekend, and as we're both pretty damn good at knitting while we talk, I finished a sleeve. No photo, but it's true.

The worst of my plumbing problems may be over (we're waiting for the grout to be completely dry before it's truly tested) and all I can say is that there must be some sort of weird karmic balance in the world of water and pipes, because fixing the water supply to the tub in the second bathroom (and the incidental and unwanted water supply to the basement floor) resulted in a drip-drip-drip (sound; nothing visible) to the commode in the master bathroom. I'm a light enough sleeper that use thereof has to be preceded and followed by turning its water supply on and off. A little irksome.

And the plumber insisted it was the flapper.

I may not be trained in the plumbing sciences, but I'm a pretty decent problem-solver, and logic is not foreign to my thought processes. If the toilet tank is allowed to fill after a flush, but the drip stops (with a full tank) after the water supply is turned off, I fail to see how it's the flapper that's the problem. If it was the flapper, the dripping would continue until the tank was empty, but it doesn't, so it can't be.

The guy who did the leak-fixing work may or may not have been competent (the test will be one of my daughter's marathon showers; she insists they can't be hurried, followed by an inspection of the basement floor) but I'm definitely dissatisfied with his professionalism (minimal courtesy, audible swearing, leaving a mess, not bothering to arrange a time to return to complete the job which he insisted would take a single day, not telling me that he hadn't finished in a single day), not to mention his lack of communication. It's left a sour taste, quite frankly.

My remaining annoyance? This company has done work for me before, big work (in terms of cost), two to three times the size of this job. They've never had to ask more than once (as in giving me the single invoice) for payment, but somehow this time they needed to leave three messages on my answering machine on Saturday asking if they could come and pick up the check IMMEDIATELY.

You'd think I'd been a past non-paying nightmare.

Sour taste indeed.

The actual drama this weekend sounds way cooler and more dangerous in summary than in detail.

My son was stabbed at his high school homecoming game.

What actually happened was that a kid with a pocket-knife on his keychain thought it would be funny to wave it around as if he was going to hurt someone. My son saw and heard the keys but not the blade and blocked the kid's jab, so the knife went straight into his arm between the hand and the wrist.

It was quite a deep wound, and there was lots of blood, though fortunately it missed the main artery. The ER doctor didn't think that there was tendon damage, but we'll see the hand surgeon to make sure. We're hoping that no surgery is necessary; two stitches were quite enough, thank you.

He was annoyed at the blood on his clothes, and after we ascertained that it wasn't life-threatening, his main concern was being late for his part in the elaborate scheme of cars and clothes and rides in preparation for the after-party. He had his priorities, after all.

Thank goodness for the foolishness of teenage boys. We all need a bit of drama now and again.