I juggled, rearranged, and creatively avoided all invites to places far and near for the holiday weekend. I twisted myself into a pretzel to be able to stay home and enjoy a quiet, restful, who cares if I’m still in my pjs at noon, weekend. The check engine light is on again in the car reminding me a catalytic converter is waiting to suck a very large sum of money from my bank account with far more efficiency and speed than my Hoover vacuum sucks up dirt. The farthest I wanted to travel this weekend was a quick 35 minute drive to the only pet store in the area that carries the only pet food Yarn Rascal will eat. This is destined not to be.
Admittedly, I sometimes operate for long periods of time in my own little knitting and crocheting universe. Knowledge of the world at large extends only to my 83 year old parents who can get into more trouble than two toddlers, my successful, work driven sister, my two nephews, The Skipper and his family, and The Yarn Rascal. Most days, the parents, The Skipper and The Yarn Rascal are enough to keep me busy from dusk to dawn. I have no time to fritter away keeping tabs on celebrities and their movements. And because of this lack of knowledge I am going to pay big time starting today.
The short of it is Yarn Rascal needs food. I need to get to his food store today. In order to do that I need to drive certain roads that will be closed because a big celebrity is in town for the next two days. The celebrity will be attending a big celebrity wedding that is smack dab in the middle of my getting from here to there. The precise route I need to take is the precise route that will be used to ferry the President of the United States to and from the places he needs to be.
Yes, there may be detours I can take, but I doubt it. The last detours I embarked on landed me in a Leper Colony one time, and the other a ghost town, only the ghosts were real people with guns and their own government. Both were right here in New York State. Neither was the type of place where I felt comfortable rolling down the window and asking for directions. No, detours don’t work out well for me.
So today, as I enlarge my awareness of the universe, I deal with the reality that there is no way I can get there from here. Yarn Rascal will be dining on organic chicken and home-grown garden vegetables all in a light sauce that I will cook up for him. While the First Lady would be proud of the organic goodness of the meal, I just hope my dog will eat it. That’s really all I want today: food my little guy will eat.
Have a great holiday weekend.