Name that film.

"It's a thingie! A fiendish thingie!" Who said it, and under what circumstances? The first person to answer correctly wins a pat on the back.

Well, yesterday would have been perfect if I hadn't been somewhat stupid. Allow me to explain. I woke up yesterday feeling much better, and so developed instant cabin fever. What better way to alleviate such a terrible condition than by hitting a high-end yarn shop?

Much sinister chuckling and hand rubbing.

Off we went, with a quick stop at the maternity store for an orange shirt. Why orange? Because the news editor of our paper pulled me aside last week and forbade me from wearing orange until after Junior's arrival, as it makes me "look like a pumpkin".

Thank you sir, may I have another? Sheesh.

Being the subtle person that I am, and much better suited to evil than The Cretin, I promptly bought a new shirt in the perfect shade of basketball. I haven't painted thin black lines across it, but I'm tempted. Tell me I can't do something, Bub? Hah! I fart in your general direction, as John Cleese would say.

After the clothing expedition, we stopped at a place called The Studio, which features some exceptionally drool-worthy yarn, as does my own dear Yarn Barn. I found new sock yarn! One is called On Line Supersocke 100. Self-striping, bright colors, 420 meters, 75% superwash and 25% polyamid. The part that gave me a giggle was reading an entire label written in German, except for one line. "Made in Italy"

Ooooookay.

The other yarn is from Pagewood Farm. It's 70% merino, 20% bamboo and 10% nylon. Hand-dyed and gorgeous, in shades of browns, golds and hints of olive. There are 450 yards in a 3.8 ounce hank.

After a trip to a drive-through for some plastic food, we went to visit D and K, the swing musicians. They had some software after which Himself was, well, not lusting, but seriously yearning. Band In A Box. Look it up, it's cool. While the guys messed around with software, K and I looked at Google Maps. I had just asked if they got a lot of deer coming up to the deck. "Oh, sure. We feed them." As soon as the words left her mouth, I happened to look out the window. Four does, right outside. COOL!

We were having a fine time; them playing, me knitting, when the cool, damp air finally caught up with my traumatized lungs. See, told you I was kinda stupid yesterday. On came the coughing. Out into the rainy, soon-to-be-icy night went silfert and Himself, hoping to make it home before the weather got truly nasty. I was scarfing Halls cough drops like they were popcorn, my head against the window to soak up the chill from the glass. Himself went into full-on Mother Hen mode, practically dancing around the bed. "More blankets? Fewer blankets? Want some water? How about some orange juice? I can make something hot to drink. How much salt goes into the vaporizer? Do you need more Vick's? You look tired. Do you want another pillow?"

Such a good man. I love him dearly.

Today I put not a toe outside. I parked myself on the couch with knitting and potable fluids, music playing and a blankie tucked around my legs. There was even some entertainment provided by the city. We had some snow, you see. Sloppy, wet snow that melted as soon as it hit the streets and sidewalks.

They sent out the plows.

They actually sent out plows to scrape water off the streets! The last time we had a real snow (all of five inches), it stayed put in the street until the sun did its thing. Sigh. Our tax dollars at work. I suppose they have to start the plows sometime, or else the batteries will die.