Friday, March 9, 2007

Eureka!

I think I have discovered the secret to getting quick service at the tax office. My original plan was to take plenty of WIP's to work on while waiting and if all else failed, threaten to turn the kids loose at their tiredest, whiniest most impulsive stage. Apparently having projects to work on had the same effect as scheduling a doctor's apointment for a sick child. All problems suddenly clear up and the child becomes the picture of health... as you pull into the parking lot, leaving you to look like a paranoid parent.

Everything went really well this year. I was pleased to see a diferent set of women working in the office (much more confidence-inspiring than the last crew). There was no line, so as soon as they switched off we were able to get started. The woman doing our paperwork was fantastic. She knew about deductions and regulations I had never heard of and helped us tremendously. Not only did she help with the taxes, but she's a mom too and quickly whipped out clipboards complete with paper and pens and asked the boys to draw her some pictures. She came up with all the appropriate "oohs and ahhhs" and even gave them tape to post their artwork on the wall. Mega Kudos to her.

There were a couple sections that applied only to my husband, so I did have a chance to work on the dishcloth. It's a lace pattern that I've been wanting to try and I really do like it. Please don't be fooled by the language you may hear while I work on it. The pattern has an eight stitch repeat. That's all... eight little stitches. Why, that's not even a whole handful. I still have two fingers left over. I enjoy math, I like numerical puzzles, I have even been known to use algebra in real life. So perhaps someone can explain why I appear to be unable to count to eight. Eight is a nice number. It's about as round as you get (It's twice as round as zero.) I have nothing against the number eight. As a matter of fact, I always thought that "8" and I had a good relationship. Apparently, I was wrong. I only had time to knit a couple rows, but on row 17, I finally was able to work the row correctly the first time.

I thought I would post a couple pictures of my projects, but my camera had other ideas. It has an old war wound from a run-in with a tile floor a couple years ago. (I swear I was using the wrist strap! To this day I'm not sure how it fell.) If the damage weren't to the hinge that keeps the batteries in, it wouldn't be a big deal. However, my camera seems to think it needs these batteries in order to function. Oh well, perhaps a portion of the tax refund can go toward purchasing a new toy visual-image-storage-device. I'll keep my fingers crossed. If I finish my projects before I get a new camera, I'll just have to cast-on something else...

The tax man cometh...

Ick. That pretty much sums up my feelings for this evening's activities. Ick. It's that time of year again. The time when we load the kids into the car, drive an hour or so to the mall, unload the kids and slog through the department store (please don't pull on the tags, Sweetheart), try to remember which side the toystore is on (No, guys, we are not here for toys. You already have wall-to-wall carpeting done in early-Lego. I'm sorry what was that? I'm afraid I don't speak "whine" and I think I already said "no".) and then try to find the tax preparer's new location. I'm not sure why they feel the need to grab a different place in the mall every year. I'm even less certain about their theory that an office in the middle of perpetual renovation will instill confidence in customers. It looks like they have set up shop for the night and may very well not be there if a problem pops up.

I probably wouldn't dread tonight's trip if it weren't our second attempt at getting our taxes done. The first time we finally got there only to wait in a line that moved at a glacial pace. The poor woman was working by herself and seemed a little overwhelmed. After nearly 45 minutes, her co-worker showed up. Yes co-worker... as in the singular form... as in, during the busiest season for tax preparers on one of their (apparently) busier days, there were only two people scheduled. I'm not sure who the other three desks belonged to but they worked nicely for holding jackets etc.

When it was finally our turn it turned out that we were missing one piece of paper that must have been fairly important. I found myself longing for the guy who did our taxes last year. We had a similar situation then, but he looked at the kids and either felt sorry for us or concerned for the condition of his office, because he went ahead and filled out everything else, saved the info and got the missing number from my husband the next day. We had to go back to sign the completed form, but it was quick and painless. Apparently, he was not in charge of training this year's crew. Oh well. At least we now know what we are probably going to be dealing with and I'll be more prepared. Last time I managed to leave part of my knitting at home. (I had yarn, needles and work-in-progress... everything I needed... except that pesky pattern. *sigh*) This time I'm taking the baby hat that is nearly finished (more on that later), the lace dishcloth that requires that I reknit each right-side row at least once to find the missing stitch and my drop spindle for calming my self when the re-knitting gets to me.

Thursday, March 8, 2007

Oh, what a night!

Yesterday, the schools were closed because they thought we were going to have snow... again. I don't think the kids have had more than one full week of school since mid-January (which thrills them, but is rapidly driving the parents up the wall.) Having the kids home would have been fine if we'd had any sort of precipitation... at all.. in any quantity. What we had instead was a sky full of clouds... that's it, just big, fluffy, grey clouds that hung there refusing to drop anything at all. Finally, late in the afternoon the snow showers began and it was like people suddenly developed automotive amnesia.

"What is this white stuff? I'd better go two miles per hour." "Whew. That's better. Thank goodness I made it up that hill. Oh gosh! That hill has a side that goes down, too? With a curve?!? I know, if I push down hard on that long, vertical pedal. I can get past that tricky bit really quickly..."

Yes, yes, you can get past that bit quite quickly, and after they dislodge your car from those trees (which were the only thing that kept you from plunging to your certain doom), perhaps you'll remember that you are driving on a mountain road. You live in a town established in the mountains, we get snow every year, the shady spots are always the first to get bad and the last to clear and gravity is not just a good idea, it's the law. The laws of nature have not changed, and neither has the number of the guy who has to pull your car out of the ditch every winter. (By the way, his wife says thank you for providing them the means to take that cruise next week.)

The snow brought us not only the chance to bet on how many cars were going to wind up in the ditch, but also the chance to look at various animal footprints... including the set on our deck. I was enjoying the chance to squeeze in a little bit of education on a snow day right until my darling offspring said, "Oh, I know that one, it's a cat print. You know, I just heard a cat outside a couple minutes ago." A cat? On our deck? A couple minutes ago? But nobody we know around here has a cat. It's absolutely freezing out there (low teens). This can't be good.

I took a peek outside and sure enough, there was the cat. It's a beautiful, fluffy, ginger cat with a great personality. It's very friendly and playful and I'm sure it has just lost its way. My husband stated in no uncertain terms that the cat was not welcome to our spare bathroom, but he acceeded the garage after I pointed at the temperature. I checked with the local vets and the shelter, but either no one has missed our feline visitor yet, or the cat's playing me for a fool. My kids think the song "The Cat Came Back" is oddly appropriate for this situation. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that our situation is just temporary. Please keep all smirks covered and remember, I'm a knitter, I have lots of pointy sticks at my disposal.