It's been an intense day.
Tom noticed a bump on the belly of our beloved dachshund, Sarah, last night, so he took her to the vet today. The vet says it's a tumor, probably benign, but did a biopsy just to be sure. As Tom lost both his parents to cancer, he's hypersensitive, and had to have a good cry before he could get on with his day. (The dog looks and acts like she feels fine.)
After the vet, we drove out to the back of beyond to pick up the bread slicer I bought online yesterday. Yes, Virginia, Rancho Cucamonga is a real place, and we got not only the bread slicer there, but a very edible lunch at Farmer Boy's. I used to live a few blocks from a Farmer Boy's, which has a very good local reputation, but had never eaten there. It straddles the line between fast food and a family restaurant. I was tempted for a time to ask whether they sell franchises, but didn't say anything. Buying a franchise is no way to go, for someone who likes to be creative in the kitchen.
Buying the bread slicer was our first irrevocable move toward owning a restaurant. The scouting trip over the last couple of weeks could be excused as a vacation, but a commercial slicer weighing hundreds of pounds isn't something I'd use in my home kitchen.
There was little knitting, today. Even after we got home from Rancho Cucamonga, playing with the pets seemed like a better use of my time than more stockinette. I don't think I mentioned that I pulled out the sock I had been knitting for Tom, with the intention of felting it, as I didn't have enough yarn. I was knitting it huge, to allow for felting. Currently, I'm knitting another, in his real size, with the intention of washing it by hand. Felted socks are very comfortable, but knitting super-sized socks on size 1 needles requires more patience than I have.
I saw some sweaters I liked in an Irish catalog tonight, but I can't bring myself to buy them. I have yarn, and skill; I should be making my own sweaters.