It goes without saying.

I love my family. They are a huge barrel of crazy, but I love them. I adore my mom because she wears the ill-fitting socks I made for her the very first day. Because she oooh's and ahhhh's with me over clear water full of Kool-aid dyed yarn, and wonders out loud with me about what Kool-Aid does to our insides if it does that to sock yarn? I adore my brother because we still act like siblings but now that he's a grown-up, we can talk about our childhoods - and there were definitely 2 separate childhoods going on at the same time back then. My stepdad is funny and lurks and makes googly eyes and drives me NUTS, but he makes my mom happy and for that I love him too. Even though I didn't grow up there, the house on the "farm" feels like home. The chickens are delightful, our ancient Peking duck named Donald still lets me pet him even though I've been gone forever, and the cats sleep on my feet. It's nice.

HOWEVER, I have learned something very valuable this weekend, and I'm writing it down so I don't forget next time. Going back to the farm for a "quiet weekend away" is a bad idea. My family loves me and so they make plans, which I then whine about because I just wanted to stay in a room that isn't in my apartment and be silent all weekend. So the next time I want a quiet weekend I'll do it somewhere else - home is more for family time than Tika time.

Speaking of heading home, my train trip didn't materialize due to the City of San Jose being completely incompetent. The train station for San Jose is across the street from the HP Pavilion, pretty close to downtown proper. And while it is on a direct bus line to my house, the bus doesn't run on Sundays. So I decided that rather than catching the bus to the station and then having to catch a cab home on Sunday evening, I would just pay for weekend parking at the train station lot. I packed and left my house in enough time to hit Starbucks so I could avoid train coffee (shudder!). I arrived at the parking lot and found a sign that read "24-hour maximum." At a train station. W.T.F? So I had to drive home instead of sitting on the train, happily knitting away. Grrrr. City of San Jose, I'm putting you On Notice. Having 24-hour maximums at a train station parking lot is stupid. When I am in charge, heads will roll.

I did do a few good things this weekend. I took my dyed yarn up to Ellen and she was properly appreciative. She also helped me with one of Cookie A's sock patterns, since I didn't want to email Cookie herself while she was at Sock Camp. And then, I ripped all 7 inches of that sock out and started over because even though I checked my gauge and even though I was so careful to knit tighter than usual, the size I should have been according to the pattern was too small. Or maybe I like my socks too tight - one or the other. Thankfully, I was diligent all weekend and I'm back to where I was before I headed home, having lost nothing but some time - which although in short supply isn't that big of a deal. And now I'm going to watch Scrubs and work more on that sock. I highly recommend Scrubs, by the way. Great knitting television.