Where is the queen these days?

Where is she, you ask? Why does she not post with any regularity? I mean, c'mon--how hard can it be finding a few minutes to sit at the computer?

Well, let me tell you. I DON'T HAVE A MOMENT TO MYSELF. Oh look. Here comes Eric now. I set him up with his new Bionicle, his blanket, and Tom and Jerry, thinking that I could actually have a few minutes to post. And yet here he is, ready to tell me that Tom and Jerry is on and get one more snuggle. Which would be great and adorable if he didn't want to snuggle every 23 seconds. It is a Ryan and Eric marathon around here. All day, every day. With quite a bit of Emily-the-neighbor-girl thrown in. And the laundry....I can't even talk about it.

But wait--don't you have a holiday weekend coming up? Well, let me tell you. We will be going to my parent's house on Whidbey Island and one sister and her family will be there. Which will be fun and great and the boys will run themselves ragged while the grownups set up for the giant barn sale to be held on the 5th. Seriously. Giant. Barn. Sale.

My parents live in a farm house on 6 acres and my mom has an antique shop on the property which she opens each weekend unless she doesn't feel like it. And my dad has this humongous barn, which is a front for the workshop of his dreams. They invite vendors to set up and they post flyers all over the island. And each year my sisters and I are summoned to the island to help run the sale because my parents are not helpful at all. Not helpful. (I actually did not go last year because it was the day of the Keith Urban concert and I thought my mom would have a coronary. But I held my ground. And she was going to hold it over my head forever until she picked up one of his cds and then promptly forgave me). My mom never manages to price half of her stuff and then she disappears for hours on end--into the antique shop, visiting with the neighbors, an impromptu trip to the sale down the street....while we are frantically trying to call her on her cell phone to ask how much she wants for the antique linen thing that I know nothing about. And the message I end up leaving on her phone usually ends with some kind of remark about TURNING HER PHONE ON.

My dad, on the other hand, also not helpful. He loves the sales. Loves them. Because he gets to hobnob with the other islanders and show off his 3 tractors, 2 airstream trailers which he says he will refurbish some day, all the work he has done on the house, the random metal things he is selling...all the while we are searching the acreage for him because my mom, who swore she would not do this again this year, has disappeared and people want to buy their stuff.

So, that will be my Friday and Saturday. And Sunday I work at the shop. Where everything is priced and in its proper place and no one will ask me questions about my dad's portable chicken coop.

And the knitting? Dismal. I have just the sleeve left on the sweater and then I will block it before piecing it together and then crying because it doesn't fit. I have a list of about 20 hats to knit and I wish they all could have beads. All of them. I'm knitting a pair of socks for Mike's mom and I've completed 2 whole inches. Pathetic, really, how much knitting I have to do and how little time I have to do it.

My house is dirty, my kids are dirty, I have to pack, I promised my mom I would bake a cake...you know what? Want more posts? My kids spend the week with you and I'll write every day.