There’s been lots of holes being put into things lately around here. Like this.

And this.

Yep, that’s the mystery stole - or chart A plus a few rows! Woohoo! It’s a lovely knit. This yarn is thinner than the Knitpicks Shadow I used last year, and I feel like I’m going to rip/hurt it with every stitch, but hopefully that feeling will fade the more I knit! The beading was difficult at first, but I’m getting the hang of how to do it without it being a huge hassle.

Here’s another hole.

That one’s in my garden. In the middle of what’s left of my rabbit-eaten lettuce, and… a bunch of weeds. Gophers are thick this year. Like flies. Seriously. For a while, you couldn’t get two feet down the highway for 60 miles without running into yet another dead one killed off by traffic. I wish something would get this bastard….

And here’s one last deliberate hole for you this week:

Weren’t expecting that, now, were you? Yes, it’s a bullet-hole - in the window at work, where some lunatic fired at A.’s head [she’s okay, wasn’t hurt at all, save a healthy, heart-pounding dose of mind-numbing terror] as she covered a shift for me.

Actually, said lunatic also fired shots at 8 other businesses (that we know of) in town, including my parents’ bar. Eight businesses, plus the freaking sheriff’s office. A. was the only real live witness or victim, though at my house, I heard shots being fired. A. handled being shot at like a champ, after the initial dive for cover on the floor, and did everything right, from locking the front door to crawling to the back office to use the phone were it was likely to be safer. Since, you know, our freaking desk is right there in front of the freaking WINDOW. Who knew working in a small town sheriff’s office could be so bloody dangerous?

Evidently, A. called up the deputy on duty, shaking, and in a very calm, subdued voice (if you knew A., you would’ve known right then that something was terribly wrong, because A. is not calm… or subdued… EVER) said that someone had shot at her (or at the windows, whatever). And our bright and shining hero asks: “With bullets?”

Way to win the Dumbass Question of the Year Award, pal! That said, he and our undersheriff spent all night looking for the guy and collecting evidence, and after daylight, all the reports of damage around town flooded in, and the Giant Rumor & Gossip Machine that fuels this town roared to life.

Wanna see some more?

Above is the window right by our desk in the dispatch center, where A. was sitting when she was shot at.

This window is on the other side of the counter - only a few feet to the east.

This is what happened to that second window.

Here’s a window at The Roadhouse Bar - which my parents own. The door was also shattered completely, but it was replaced within hours, so the damage isn’t visible in this photograph.

And here’s another window at the bar. I’d have taken pics of the other businesses, but I didn’t want to sneak all around town at 6am snapping photos like a bloody tourist, you know?

For anyone wondering… no, we didn’t have bulletproof glass, and yes, we are getting some, though the fucking moron county commissioners are still balking at getting bulletproof glass over the counter in our reception area. WHY? That’s where I’d be most concerned! We have psychos IN the office all the freaking time! Drive-by lunatics are rare! So it looks like I’m going to have to write up some sort of petition. I’m pretty sure most everyone in town will sign it. Clearly, the emergency dispatchers need to be safe, you know, in case of emergencies.

Anyway, we caught the guy within 48 hours. [Note: The media got everything wrong… There were 9 shots fired AT THE SHERIFF’S OFFICE ALONE - and more fired at all the other businesses, for example, and the windows at the bar were not shattered, just shot, and the doorw as shattered - there was no hole in it…] He’s in jail now. But we’re all still a bit jumpy down at the office. I mean, the windows are still all riddled with holes and shit. This is the first time any such thing has ever happend in our county. Deliberate attempted homicide just isn’t a common hobby around here. Of course, everyone’s saying, of the culprit: “Gosh, that’s just so out of character for him!” Don’t they always say things like that about psychos?

Now I’m off to make some more holes with my knitting, and maybe look into personal handgun prices. For protection.

Or more likely, that gods-be-damned gopher.