Is that thunder, or are they moving the dumpster in the alley?

I meant to blog yesterday, but there was a very dramatic thunderstorm preventing me from firing up the mac.
I had the most amazing time at Ravinia with James on Sunday. At first, I was irritated. There were some absolute boors who forced me to move my carefully staked out blanket twice. Because everyone needs eight lawn chairs, three tables, and four blankets when they go to a concert. So, there I was glaring wildly, enjoying the cicada free park and cool breezes. Oh, and a bottle of shiraz-cabernet, a little rotisserie chicken, and some green bean salad. We had a spread on our humble blanket. Seu Jorge, the opening act (and who I really wanted to see), was fantastic. I'd seen him live before at a much more intimate venue, but it was nice to hear him again in a more chill atmosphere. Cesaria Evora I could take or leave. James had such a great time that he returned from a trip to the bathroom with a season booklet to pick out his next concert.
He was surprised, as was I, at how painless it is to get up there. It seems like the back of beyond from the south side, but really isn't that bad by train. We might put together a little group to go see Rufus Wainwright at the end of the summer. I am definitely going back on Sunday to see my favorite band, Pink Martini with Arturo Sandoval. I've seen them twice before, but never so close to home.
Thank god the weather has decided to cool off a bit. I am really not a hot weather person. Most pale people aren't. I don't like to sweat while being still. It was even warm enough in the house to make my block of Jungle melty. My precious conditioner was quickly popped in the fridge, though I currently reek of it. I melted a little chunk of it in hot water and applied a disgusting amount to my hair as a deep conditioner/hair experiment.
The baby sweaters I have so swiftly knitted are at a standstill. They are a yarn eating project. The yarn consumed defies all expectations, that is the amount called for in the pattern. I even had *extra* yardage, I thought. Poo. I'll have to trot off to the LYS again tomorrow morning before heading into work.
Not that I'll get a ton of knitting done, since my boss asked me to work double my number of contracted hours this week. I usually work more than the number in my contract, since I think that is technically the minimum. This week, I have to squeeze twice into one less day, as I called in sick on Monday. I can certainly use the money, but these long days seem like a marathon. Now, I realize that I sound like a big whiner. Other people routinely work much longer days, but how many of them have a screwy internal clock and stay awake until three am? My body wants to work a theatre gig again, I guess. I'll have to get on that.