As my supervisor would say, "That went over like a turd in a punchbowl!" Our hunt for meteorites was less than successful. The first place we stopped was plagued with light from the local Evil Empire Distribution Center. The second place, a minimum maintenance road, turned into Grand Central Station two minutes after we parked. The third place was great. We could hear frogs, coyotes and trains in the distance. Almost no lights within several miles. Himself leaned against the Big Red Beast, I leaned against him. I saw two meteors, fourteen planes, three satellites and a really spectacular streak of gold across the sky that turned out to be...a lightning bug.
Then the clouds rolled in.
We went home, where I indulged in several rounds of what the Yarn Harlot's husband calls "angry knitting". This was followed by an intent perusal of the newest issue of Vogue Knitting. The articles were neat, but I spent several pages mumbling, "Well, I won't be wearing THAT...or that either...oh, certainly not...Yeah, right!" The section on knitting in the fashion industry had me on the floor. A giant, cocoon-like poncho thing made with yarn as thick as my arm was just one of the items worthy of dismay. Oh, well. At least knitting is being pushed into the public eye in a way that strips away the stereotypical "boring old lady" veneer. I have yet to meet a boring old lady knitter, myself. I don't think they really exist.