In which virtue and persistence are rewarded.

Some of you have heard part of this already.

I got a response from the online china replacement shop, asking a clarifying question; I will probably get another one today while I’m at work. Selling these four pieces would be the fastest and easiest way to scrounge up doll money for my share of the group order.

Edited to add: I checked my inbox. They made an offer: $5.00 for a piece which they will sell for $100.00. And they’re not currently buying most of the pieces that I want to sell. Does it say *stupid* on my forehead? I respectfully declined their offer. So it looks like (1) the antique mall is next or (2) eBay if that offer is equally unappealing.

I drove in to work yesterday, and after transcribing one report and making myself generally useful at the front desk, I took half a day of vacation and got the heck out of Dodge. I had put the basket of English china into the trunk, just in case the office manager cleared me to take time off, and I headed straight for the antique mall near my house.

In a display case not far from the buying desk, a dealer had three pieces in my china pattern for sale, at prices equal to those of the online stores, if not higher. Encouraging! The owner/buyer for the antique mall said he wished that the display were not quite so near the buying desk, because that dealer charges top dollar, and his pieces don’t necessarily move all that fast.

He asked what I wanted for my pieces. I told him what the online store was charging for the three pieces that I could find prices for. We agreed that he almost certainly wouldn’t be able to sell them for that. Again, he asked what I wanted for them. I countered by asking what he thought he could get for them. He named a figure. It seemed reasonable. He offered me half of that. I took it.

After tithing and the other charitable deductions I am making in order to keep a sense of proportion about this new hobby and to not get all tangled up with having *stuff*, I still have a significant percentage of the purchase price of Beyla, the little hoofie.

I celebrated by doing half of the remaining laundry.

And then I grabbed half a dozen DVD’s and three CD’s that I wouldn’t miss much, and I took them with me to Arlington when I drove over for Knit Night. Plus seven Clover circular needles in various lengths and sizes, because I have replaced them all with better needles. Sold all six DVD’s and one of the CD’s and came home with the Clover circs and another $13.00 in cash.

When I tried Brainless on Princess Firstborn’s dainty foot, it fit as if it had been made for her. Oh yeah. It was! So I have just another two or three inches of leg to knit, and then the cuff, and then I’ll cast on the second sock.

All in all, a most satisfactory day, and one that more than made up for Monday.

Ms. Ravelled v. the Chibi* Vampire

I knew it was going to be a crazy-busy day, as I would have three tapes waiting for me when I got to work, *and* the receptionist was out for the first day of school, which meant that I was going to be stuck at switchboard. What I did not know was that the scanning operator was also out for the same reason. So when I walked up to the front desk from the elevator to tell the data clerk that we were going to have to be flexible, she raised one eyebrow and said, “Oh, you need to go talk to the office manager! She has a project for the IT person to do today, and she needs you to do the scanning. I’m going to be up here all day, except for when I go get the mail.”

It was about then that I realized that my leg was stinging. I looked down to see that two or three of the DP’s for Firstborn’s sock were sticking out of my workbag. It wasn’t until I moved the bag away from my leg that I realized one of them was boring into my thigh.

You know that weird calm that comes over you [well, me anyway] when something mildly awful happens? I get this pop-up list that tells me to first do this, then do that, then check off the next thing, until some semblance of normalcy returns. Item #1 was, “I have to get a band-aid on this. And then I’ll go talk to the office manager.” So I reached down and pulled out the DP.



This happened in the short walk between the front desk and my own desk, a journey of maybe 25 feet, taking less than 15 seconds. I asked my friend in the next cubicle if blood made her woozy. She has a son, so, no. She captured the carnage, because of course when something unexpected happens it is going to show up here on the blog.

Yes, my tetanus shot is current.

One of the legal secretaries transcribed one of the tapes for me. The attorney’s regular secretary ended up doing the other two, because while the mail appeared to be under control when the data clerk went for the 9:00 batch and came back empty-handed, everything went to the place that sells handbaskets when I picked up a full bucket of mail at 11:00.

I had a 15 minute lunch, long enough to go down to the deli and bring back chicken salad on a croissant and inhale it. I went up to the front desk at 4:00 when the data clerk went home, and the IT person helped me finish up the last of the mail. She sent out the “Mail is finished.”
email around 4:45, and I sat at switchboard and twitched until I could shut everything down at 5:00.

I caught the bus to the station. Trainman was on the train. I was so weary, and so hungry, that more than once I nearly fell asleep in mid-sentence.

I really should have done laundry last night. Instead I grabbed the bread and the hummus and poured myself a small glass of juice. And when I was tired of that, I got in the car and drove to CVS and bought a pint of BlueBell. Sat on the couch and ate it bite by bite while watching Enchanted. Then I picked up Cuprit’s skirt and stitched down a few more pleats.

One really great thing happened last night. As we were walking up the steps to our cars, I heard recorder music. A guy who’d been on the train was sitting on a bench, presumably waiting for his sweetheart to come get him, and playing lovely slow folk tunes. I pulled my car around and thanked him through my open window, for making a difficult day immeasurably better. I pulled out of the parking lot and wept for weariness, frustration, and joy. And then I sang most of the way home.

I have no idea what I’m going to wear today. Definitely not the white pants, but beyond that your guess is as good as mine.

*Chibi. Because the best explanation for what happened to my leg is that a short, myopic vampire attacked me.

Pondering, and maybe a little purling

For most of my adult life, I have been relatively poor. I use the word “relatively” advisedly, because much of the poverty came from our choices that (1) I should be a stay at home mom and (2) we should invite five lovely daughters into our family, which effectively guaranteed that we could not afford to have me working outside the home, compounded by (3) the inability of the children’s father to keep a job.

I have learned many things from poverty. One lesson was to how to make a penny do the work of a nickel. Another was how to use my talents to bring extra income into the family. I learned how sweet it can be to sacrifice on behalf of one’s children, if one does not allow resentment to creep in.

I learned some false lessons as well, and I am still struggling with those, the worst perhaps being a sense of entitlement: this is mine, I worked hard for it, and I will share it or not, as I choose. When we lived in Fredericksburg, I knew a couple who had lived through the Great Depression. He was perhaps the most tight-fisted man I have ever met; she was perhaps the most generous, living by the maxim that “if you continually give, you will continually have”. The older I get, the better I understand his attitude. It is based in fear. And the more I want to emulate hers. It is based in love and faith and trust.

My patriarchal blessing states that I will have “enough and to spare”. There have been times when I thought that the Lord’s idea of “to spare” was considerably different from my own. And there have been times of some stability. One of the themes of my marriage was that he wanted to be rich. And I was afraid to be wealthy, afraid that if I were, I would entirely turn my back on the Lord and His children, and in the end be found wanting. It has since occurred to me that if I want to be a righteous steward if and when I am wealthy, it is absolutely necessary to practice that now, when I am still finding my feet financially.

When I added up how much money I had spent at the drive-through last month, it was appalling. It was dribbled away in $2 and $3 increments, a couple of tacos here, a mango smoothie there. So obviously it was “spare” money that I did not miss. When I got my check on the 31st, I made myself put that much into savings, and I divided an equal amount between two favorite charities, where it could do some real good. I have done better this month, both in terms of financial priorities and general health. I have not done so well with my time, but I am learning.

I went to the temple a week ago Saturday and was reminded of the covenants we make. One of my children who is not active in the church, scrimped for three months to save for my birthday gift. I have a pretty fair idea of how little she makes and what proportion of her take-home this gift represents, and how many hours she worked in order to be so generous. I am deeply moved. I think it must be a little like how Father feels when we hand over our tithing when we don’t know how or when all the bills are going to get paid.

I think it is not accidental that I should receive a windfall on the same day that I learned of a friend who has a great and pressing need. When I first opened the envelope, my first thought was, “Oh, I can put this on my layaway.” And a few hours later, it was, “Oh. Now I think I know why the check came.”

It may turn out that my friend finds a ram in the thicket, without my pitching in. But I believe that it is imperative for me to remember my covenants and to be prepared to hand it over cheerfully and without regret or covetousness. And to remember that it is really not “my stuff”.

I wrote the above before church a week ago yesterday, while preparing a spiritual thought to share in ward council. As it turns out, there was no need for me to contribute to the solution of my friend’s financial problem. But I think it was absolutely necessary for me to ponder how I can do a better job of sharing my time, my talents, and yes, sometimes my money to ease the way and bless the lives of those around me. Because none of this is really mine; it is a stewardship, and part of the test of mortality is to help me discover what is really important to me. And the way I will know it and show it, is by how and where and with whom I spend my time, my energy, my talents, my devotion.

I worked a little on Firstborn’s sock after coming home from church and taking a short nap. I have done two and a half pattern repeats on the leg, with two and a half to go before I do the cuff and the binding-off. I think about how far she and I have come, together. She is the child of my youth and abysmal ignorance. She had the mom with two massive breast infections. She had the mom with post-partum depression. She had the mom who came down with hepatitis when she [Firstborn] was not quite one; she endured six weeks of near isolation when I had to literally bump up and downstairs tush-first to take her her bottle and change her diaper, because I did not have the strength to walk up and downstairs, or hold her and play with her.

It is a miracle that she has turned out so well, a real testament to the strength of her spirit and the grace of Heaven. She is currently experiencing some health challenges; nothing life-threatening, thank goodness, but trying, both for her and for her family. And she is battling the current dragon with intelligence and fiery humor, as near as I can tell.

I may not like the yarn I’m working with, but I love the sock pattern, and I love her. When these socks are done, Fourthborn will be the only one of the girls without some tangible, knitted love. This is the year that gets fixed. And then maybe I can figure out how to knit the AutoZone gift card that 1BDH says he wants...

A postscript: I thought I was finished with this post, but that was before my final meeting of the day. The stake operates a ham radio network as part of our emergency preparedness. Stake leadership requested at least one person from each ward’s Relief Society presidency to check in. So I drove to the home of one of the ward members and got the pleasure of hearing voices of friends old and new. And learning a thing or three. I think someday, maybe when I am retired [if I ever retire] or get to take off the RS President hat, I might like to get an operator’s license.

It was interesting, and I got to know four of my ward members a little better. OK, I’m done.

My busy, happy, productive day.

I updated some visiting teaching records at church early in the morning.

I took my creamer, sugar, gravy boat, and the little candy dish to the local china replacement service shop. The large serving pieces are all chipped or worn; plenty good enough for my own use now or to break up for a pique assiette project years down the road. I had printed off the shop’s retail prices for my pattern, and the prices from another replacement service, as talking points.

I came home with all my stuff, because they only purchase complete sets, but she said the best options were the antique mall not far from the house, or Replacements Ltd, online. I have emailed the latter.

On the way to my bank for lunch money and a roll of quarters, I stopped in at the antique mall. The owner buys on Monday through Friday, from 10:00 until 3:00. [I guess he doesn’t want to buy from me.]

I went to Central Market and spent $6.15 on two loaves of bread, an exceedingly ripe mango, and a couple of Pink Lady apples. I also got flirted with by a boy about BittyBubba’s age, who reached out and said “Hey!”and swatted at my sleeve. His dad apologized, and I told him not to worry, that I seem to be a big deal with toddlers but not so much with guys my own age. The dad said, “Oh, OK, I guess that’s fair then.”

Brother Sushi picked me up, and we met Trainman and LadyZen at the T&P Station to ride up to Chef Point Cafe in Watauga. Our experience was worth repeating. Three of us split the duck appetizer. Just about exactly the right amount of duck meat for me. Three of us had the lobster bisque in a bread bowl; two of us thought the bisque is just a smidgen better at Lucille’s but that the presentation is better at CPC. Brother Sushi had the duck a l’orange; he said it was good but that the appetizer was better. Trainman had either the seafood pasta or the pasta con gamberean di mare: lots of seafood over bowtie pasta. LadyZen had the chicken Florentine, with lots of fresh baby spinach leaves. I definitely want to try that sometime. And I had a side Caesar, because I was attempting to leave room for dessert.

The guys each ordered a bread pudding. LadyZen and I each ordered the “warm rustic apple flaky”, a “sugared crust filled with fresh apples and topped with vanilla ice cream”. We all shared bite-a’s before we dug in. Here is a link to the breakfast menu. Does not the Hot Brown sound like something worth driving for? Trainman said he would join me for breakfast there one Saturday, and I want to go back for lunch sometime and see how the pork chop compares with the one I had at Drew’s.

I even managed to make Brother Sushi blush, but whether it was something I said or something it reminded him of, doesn’t really matter, it was just funny [and now he’ll have to kill us ☺ ].

I came home happy from carbs and fat, laughing, and really needing a nap, even more than I needed to do laundry. I stalled for about an hour and a half, hoping to wake up a little, but finally gave up and went to bed and set the alarm. Naps are good. Naps when I wake up early enough to still get something useful done, are even better. The most critical part of my laundry is dry; I’ll wash the last of it on Monday after work.

Yesterday’s NonSequitur (8/22/09). Spew alert: cover your keyboard! Any male who thinks “score” is an appropriate verb when interacting with females, deserves to get his head bitten off! I laughed far more than is seemly for someone who [now, as opposed to 12 years ago] likes men in general and various men in particular. And who is allegedly trying to behave in a Heavenly manner.

Once I got the kinks worked out of the ribbing on Firstborn’s sock, I added a round here and there throughout the day. I look at the leg on that sock and think that it’s too small to fit an adult, but then I remember that Firstborn’s ankle is not much bigger around than my wrist. I probably shouldn’t knit any more on it until I try it on her; this yarn does not frog well. But I am finally, finally enjoying this sock, and it’s hard to stop.

I like this sock pattern so much that I could finish this sock and its mate and immediately cast on for another pair in a different yarn.

I was so full from lunch (eaten around 2:30) that I had nothing but water until 11:30, when I had a small glass of juice to celebrate clean laundry, damp stuff hung up to finish drying, and getting through all my Bloglines.

Now that is a good lunch!

Don’t know much about history...

And the best of it, I have learned from well-written historical novels like Sharon Kay Penman’s. When Brother Sushi and I had dinner last month, he told me he was reading a biography of Genghis Khan, and that it was informative and highly readable. I concur. He brought it to dinner last Friday, and I cracked it open yesterday at lunch.

I don’t remember the last time a book grabbed me by the lapels while I was reading the introduction. [Other than the Book of Mormon, and I had already read Third Nephi and Fourth Nephi and big chunks of Alma at that point.] Reading this book ~ so far, which is not very far ~ is like sitting down with a good friend who knows a lot about a lot of stuff and knows how to tell a story and pull disparate points together to help you see the world in a whole new way. [Kinda like the mutual nattering that goes on at dinner with Brother Sushi.]

Both knitting projects are stalled for a couple of days. I need more measurements in order to work on my Cuprit’s sweater. And I need Firstborn’s foot for about three minutes before I can continue with the leg of the sock, plus I have to figure out if I’ve dropped a stitch or just don’t read well at 5:15am, because my count is not coming out right on the beginning of the ribbing for the leg. I’m hoping it’s the latter and that when I pick up the sock to count stitches, they will all be in their places with bright shining faces.

I have been well and truly SOOM’d. SOOM is the company which makes Cuprit. Cass was the monthly doll for July 28-August 15. Bygg and Beyla are the tinies which are the monthly dolls [singularly, or together] for August 21-September 15. They are unicorn babies, and they are precious! We wants them! Rather, we wants Beyla, and we wouldn’t mind having Bygg, even if he does have grey skin, which suggests that he might be an undead unicorn baby.

Beyla is currently not in the budget, but I am working on a plan. I have two or three pieces of furniture that I don’t really need and which are mostly in the way. I could clean them up and offer them for sale, cheap[ish; not garage-sale cheap, but pretty cheap].

I have a couple of serving pieces in my pink china that are in good condition, and there is a used-china shop down the street or I could offer them on eBay.

I have seven lamps in my studio, six of them in good condition, and nowhere to plug them in. This duplex is charming to the N^th degree and woefully lacking in electrical outlets.

There are probably more VHS tapes I’m ready to get rid of, and maybe a few DVD’s and CD’s as well.

Once I actually have my Cuprit in my hot little hands, I can probably earn enough cash via clothing commissions from other Cuprit owners, to pay for whatever doll might want to come home next. Or to justify buying doll shoes at $25-40 a pair. But I don’t expect to see her until the end of next month or maybe even October, so that doesn’t solve the current dolly angst.

I can hear Firstborn and Secondborn rolling their eyes. Hey, some people I know buy Coach bags. Just sayin’.

I don’t want to take commissions for people-sized sweaters. Been there, done that, 25 years ago. I might knit one occasionally as a gift, but that keeps it F-U-N instead of J-O-B.

I have some knitting needles that I never use [because I now have better ones] that I might be able to sell. I’m going to make an Excel spreadsheet, and every time I get an idea, I’ll write it down. If y’all have any ideas, let me know.

[I drafted all the above before I went to bed last night. This morning I sat down with Firstborn’s sock and the photo in the pattern, and I counted all the stitches, twice. Then I figured out where I’d misread the pattern and re-knitted it. One and a half times. Then I decided that for the leg of the sock, I want the cable at the front of the pattern round and not the back; otherwise, when I get to the end of the sock, I will have one row too much on the last cable, and it will drive me nuts. I know: not a drive, more like a short putt. But it’s fixed.]

Memo to self: do not even think of attempting to knit transition rows/rounds when sleepy.

The Week of Lunching Dangerously

Oye. I mean, seriously, oye! On Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, lunch consisted of ten minutes to inhale something, and then back to the desk or into a meeting, and taking the rest of my lunch hour around 3:30. This week has been crazy: a mandatory class for support staff on Tuesday, during my normal lunch hour. A conference call on Wednesday, also during my normal lunch hour, in the course of which I finished all but two fingers of a 20-oz Cherry Coke [and needed it]. Yesterday was the monthly support staff meeting, but it was in the morning and did not impact lunch other than my inhaling vast quantities of leftover pastries as my lunch and throughout the day. Not large pastries, but the general effect was to keep me off-kilter and a little wired.

I came home, ate a sensible dinner, and was in bed by 9:40 as we did not go visiting teaching. I also did this:



The heel is now officially turned. Isn’t it pretty? Yarnissima creates such pretty sock patterns, and this one is so easy. The sock will now go onto a spare 00 circ until I can get together with Firstborn to make sure it fits. But we are officially one-third done with this project. I will not miss working with this yarn ~ I may have mentioned that once or twice ~ but I will miss thinking about how much I love my daughter as I knit.

At lunch yesterday, the lunch which I took at my regular time even if I did not eat the things I would normally eat, I set up my ringtones on the new phone. Zut alors! no more sitting at the French café. But I found four tones that I think will not drive me crazy, nor anyone who is within earshot if my phone rings, and I picked a wallpaper.

The new phone barely fits into the cell phone slot in my Ubiquitous Red Bag. It goes in, barely, and does not want to come out again. I will either have to find the bag-within-a-bag which came with my tote or another bag [in a non-clashing color] on sale for half price at Franklin Covey and convert the URB into a knitting bag. Though I suppose I could grab the rest of the Malabrigo and make a felted bag large enough to hold my planner, my cell phone, and my bumbershoot, leaving the camera in its slot in the URB.

It is much too early in the day to be making decisions. I’m off to make a batch of pigs in blankets, instead.

QWERTY

I succumbed. This is why.



My phone did a face-plant into the gravel driveway last Saturday. Note also the hanging-by-a-thread cover on the recharging port. [I may have sprained it.] Plus, I had grown weary of hitting each button multiple times in order to text, and I refuse to use predictive text. I like being quirky and unpredictable, thank you very much!

Because I am so cheap about upgrading my phone, and do it so rarely, I was able to get a new one for $29.99, which I’m guessing is what the components cost my carrier. I will now have GPS capability, though I might not turn it on: it’s more than a little redundant, as I rarely get lost. But it might prove useful if my mind wanders off into east nowhere. Or the next time I get a flat tire and call one of the boys for help.

It’s red, of course. I almost went for one with a slide-out keyboard, but it only came in black. On this model I had a choice of screaming red or screaming purple or something tastefully bland; I was briefly tempted by the purple but afraid my kids would die of shock. I love my kids and I worked too hard to get them here; why would I intentionally do something to harm them?

When I got home on Monday, there was an email from my cell phone provider, saying that my phone had shipped. They said overnight shipping(!!!), so I thought it might arrive on Tuesday. And technically it did, but it was buried amongst a dozen or so big boxes and wound up in the supply room until our IT person started opening things yesterday morning.



Not only is it red, it is paisley! I stopped off at the store to have my contacts transplanted into the new phone and then to have it activated. [I didn’t want to activate it until I had everybody’s contact information nailed down.] I still haven’t picked out a ring-tone. I really like the one I had, but this phone is a different brand than the old one, so I’m not holding my breath. The old ring-tone made me feel as if I were sitting at a sidewalk cafe in Paris, watching the tourists walk by as I dipped chunks of croissant into a big bowl of hot milk.

OK, maybe not your idea of a Real Good Time, but this is my fantasy life we are talking about.

I was nearly done with the gussets on Brainless when I went to bed last night. Chances are excellent that I will turn the heel before going to bed tonight.

All kinds of knitting progress.

I’m at the waist on the doll sweater. Waiting on more measurements before I start increasing for the bust and armscye shaping.



Firstborn’s sock has not been neglected, either; I have knitted a little over half of the gusset rounds.



I ended up skipping Knit Night in favor of coming home and knitting before a [relatively] early bedtime.

Tha-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-at’s all, folks!

Polishing Things Off

The last of the rice with veggies.



The last of the tortillas.



A sizeable dent in the hummus.



The last of the orange juice.



The last of the return address labels.



Not the last of the Special Dark chocolate chips. Just a modest portion, rolling itself about agreeably until it had formed an impromptu heart.



Not pictured: the last of the Hawaiian barbecue, but it’s next on the agenda.

Use/eat it up.
Wear it out.
Make it do.
Sit and pout.
Scream and shout.
Do without.

I love it when nothing goes to waste.

I went in to buy HP 1.

I picked up the second Harry Potter movie several months ago, either at Half Price Books or Entertainmart. I was hoping to find HP 1 and 3, preferably for $5.99 or less. No such luck. But Saturday I did come home with The Ghost and Mrs. Muir and Enchanted, both of them very reasonably priced. And I have watched them this weekend while ensconced on the couch with my knitting.

I noodled around with waist shaping on the doll sweater yesterday. Today I am taking Brainless to work with me. I like being able to switch back and forth.

Uncle Sam hath befuddled me. You will recall that I came up short on April 15th, because I did not recalculate my withholding sufficiently early last year to allow for the emptying nest. I made arrangements to pay installments. There was a penalty attached for such an arrangement. I paid the penalty. On Saturday I got a check for them, for the amount of the penalty and odd change.

Since when has Uncle Sugar been concerned with the cash flow of the one, except to divert it into pork barrel projects and giving raises to our elected representatives? Before I spend any of this newly-returned money, I will make a discreet phone call or three and see if the left hand knoweth what the right hand doeth. I would really like to plunk this into savings, and I would really really dislike having to unplunk it.

Keepin’ it real, keepin’ it honest.

What you are seeing here, is one seriously overexposed sock, with about half an inch to go before the gusset increases begin. Lots of happy knitting progress yesterday.

What you are seeing below, is a mystery. No, I know that it’s my knitting toolbag. No question about that; I use those tools often. The mystery lies in where that smaller tape measure was, when I took virtually everything out of the bag before giving up the hunt and purchasing the new, larger tape measure seen on the right.



I had a great day yesterday: time at the temple, time at Entertainmart, a mango smoothie and tall water on the drive home, a stop at JoAnn’s for some thread and other items that may have fallen into the cart, pizza delivered on time via drive-by fooding to the missionaries, and a quiet evening at home, answering voicemails until my battery died.

Not entirely “Brainless”

I’ve said before how much I enjoy Yarnissima’s designs. “Brainless” is no exception. It’s a free download on Ravelry, and the pattern I’ve chosen to knit up Firstborn’s socks.

[I may have broken a personal record as to how many apostrophes I can cram into a sentence. Yay! for CTRL+V, as I do not like the default one, nor the default quotation marks.]

I was well into my third pattern repeat when I looked at the cabling on the sides and realized my count was off, somewhere. So I frogged back to just above the second cable twist and fixed that. This pattern goes quickly, and once I have worked a few more repeats of the chart, I will no longer have to put a tick-mark down for each completed round. Then it truly will be brainless knitting.

I may have commented on how much I dislike this yarn. Once or twice or eleventeen times. I love the colors. The multistrandedness [my German roots are showing] makes for exceptionally subtle color shifts, and visually it is almost as fun as knitting with Noro, just to see what happens next. I think it will make a supremely wearable sock and be easy to care for. But the softness of the yarn verges on deadness, kind of like alpaca only more so. And the splittiness, oye, the splittiness!

Nevertheless, it is going quickly, and I would not be surprised to begin the Beguine heel gusset later today.

In doll news, I seem to have organized a small meet toward the end of next month. Fourthborn and I may be the only ones there, and I might need to borrow one of her dolls for the occasion if my Cuprit has not arrived, but I am looking forward to meeting others in the local community. I’ll post details closer to the date, and if you are going to be in the area, come by and say hi.

I am learning my way around DoA [like Facebook or Ravelry for BJD doll collectors]. I have posted my statutory number of posts and am now just waiting for sufficient time to elapse before I have access to the marketplace, which is what I really want. I have already reached my limit with the number of O’s followed by M’s and then G’s which I see in sundry posts. Augh! Jane Austen would be horrified.

I have a new restaurant for you: L & L Hawaiian Barbecue on FM 3040 in Lewisville, just west of the Sonic. It’s a chain that started in the Islands, and I had [among other things] undoubtedly the best macaroni salad I have eaten in my life. According to Brother Sushi, in Hawaii macaroni salad gets served with pretty much everything. I could eat this salad three times a day, no problem. The pot-stickers were good, too. I don’t remember the name of the hot sauce, but it’s deep pink, fiery with a sweet aftertaste; I don’t think I will need to wax my lip or my brows for a couple of weeks.

I got the sample plate: teriyaki beef, Korean pork ribs, and teriyaki chicken. The beef was tasty but a little on the dry side; to be fair, we got there late in the day. I have about half of it left for another meal. The pork was garlicky, and is history. Even dealing with the bones, which I don’t like to do, didn’t put me off. The chicken was amazing. I only have any of it left because I had eaten all my pork and half my beef and two pot-stickers and my macaroni salad and all but a few bites of rice. Oh, that rice! I am not much for soy sauce because of the sodium, so I only dribbled a little on one corner, but underneath the mound of rice, where the teriyaki sauce from the chicken had run?

Bliss.

Houston, we have a peplum!

Click to embiggen. I’m setting this aside for a couple of days in order to work on Firstborn’s socks. It will be nice to work on something human-scale again.

My friend Sooz hits another one out of the ballpark! As someone who is a Planner in part of her life and a Winger in the important parts, I can truly relate.

Tonight is the monthly dinner with Brother Sushi. His turn to buy, and we are heading up to Lewisville or Carrollton to a Hawaiian barbecue joint. Which reminds me of a snippet of conversation overheard earlier this week. A stunning brunette on the elevator was talking on her cell phone, explaining to the party on the other end that there is a difference between grilling and barbecuing. I hadn’t pondered that before. Grilling = high heat = steaks. Barbecue = slow heat = ribs or chicken or brisket.

Must go get ready for work. Patting the peplum on Cuprit’s sweater before putting it back into the bag for later. I need to PM somebody and get a couple more measurements before proceeding.

When this sweater is done and Firstborn’s socks are finished, I will be ready for another fat-yarn project. Maybe a felted bag from the leftover Malabrigo?

To sleep, perchance...

Yesterday was weird. Even on the Ms. Ravelled scale of weirdness. I had my appointment for deep cleaning of half my teeth. They had a temp; she was good. It went well. [I did make some jottings while I was (briefly) at work but forgot to mail them home. It will be interesting to see if they are as witty as they seemed at the time.]

I showed up at work a little before noon and gave the receptionist her lunch break. Nearly finished opening the 11:00 mail. Anesthetic was starting to wear off, and I was starting to feel achy from before they had put the dental block thingie on the right side to hold my mouth open when the effort to do so on my own was starting to make me feel TMJish. So nice to be able to relax, bite down, and not have to think about keeping my teeth accessible.

My dentist’s staff was pretty amazed that I was planning to go into work after all that. [They were also pretty impressed to see and handle Autumn Asters; several of them are knitters.] I figured, no big deal. And halfway through her lunch hour, I was wishing she were back already. Just wanted my mommy, and to come home and put on my PJ’s and take a nice long nap.

So I signed out at 1:00 and drove home and ate soft stuff and took that nap, setting the alarm so I wouldn’t miss presidency meeting. Which went well, and then I took myself to Ol’ South for one of those German pancakes, and it tasted funny, but I think that was because I took three Advil yesterday: one at 2:30, one at 7:00, and the last at 11:00.

I never take that stuff. Never need to; I had to buy a fresh bottle. And transfer a smidgen of money over from savings before bedtime, just to make sure I had everything covered.

Life is good, but no real knitting yesterday, and I did not get the scarf pinned out before leaving for the dentist’s. [Nor will it be happening today; tune in tomorrow.]

I went back to bed at 12:15 this morning. And now I’m up again and feeling human, or a reasonable facsimile thereof. Between the nap yesterday afternoon and the sleep last night, I think I got enough rest. There is the merest hint of tenderness in my right jaw and ear. The bottle of Advil is in my red bag in case I need it later today, but I don’t expect that I will.

When we do the other half of my mouth, I am definitely taking the whole day off. And then we get to schedule [and budget for] the replacement of one of my crowns. When I am tempted to feel poor-poor-pitiful-me, I remember that my parents were smokers, and by the time they were my age they both had full dentures. [The only advantage I can see to that scenario is no further need to floss.]

I am hoping for lots more knitting today, beginning now while the tub fills...

Let he who is without Zin among you...

Please cast the first corkscrew. This is the bottle which LadyZen gave me in March. It has a real cork. [Philistine that I am, I was assuming a cap that came unscrewed.] I have not needed a corkscrew in thirty-four years.



But I have it on good authority that I have executive ability; remember the fortune cookie fortune which I framed? I figured something out.



Pictured here with the biography of Marcella Hazan which I found on sale for $4.98.

Well, I thought I had solved the problem. I got the corkscrew in just fine. I have drilled all the way through to China, as a matter of fact, but I don’t have strength to pull the cork.

Where is Monica when I need her? Oh, yeah. Home, sleeping, or maybe getting ready for work. And Trainman is probably stepping off the TRE as we speak; he is usually at his desk by 6:15.

Sigh...

I even tried pulling the corkscrew out carefully and dribbling a cupful out through the mangled cork. No dice. I guess I had better cancel my enrollment in sommelier school.

But wait. I think it budged. [At least ten minutes later...] Success!

Now you are sitting there, wondering why a good teetotaler like me needs a glass of virgin white Zinfandel at 6:01am.

Lace blocking, my dears. Lace blocking. Rebecca brought her blocking wires to Knit Night.

And after taking a sip of my hard-won Zin, me no like. Into the crockpot this will go, with a quart or two of chicken stock and who-knows-what else. It shall not be wasted. It shall also not be tasted, except as condiment.

Trying to remember why I liked wine, back in the day. [But at least I got to use the blog title, which like the wine has been parked since March.]

“You have a feather in your hair.” *snort*

This is what one of my attorneys said as a bunch of us lined up for a photo op behind the table of goodies we are sending to two soldiers the office has adopted.

I may have had the feather in my hair, but he is the one who was tickled. What can I say? Cheap pillow that really needs to be retired. I rarely grab the mirror and check out my head in back, otherwise I might have seen it. No guarantees. Sometimes I think my eyes wake up long after my stomach and related organs do.

I’ve gotten Firstborn’s sock re-knitted to the point where it was when I hollered, “Aughh!” and frogged it back to a nubbin. I’ve redone the increases, made my peace with M1L and M1R and have to concede that they make for a sturdier-looking toe. But I think I will always prefer my simple lacy YO increases, even if they are incompatible with all the KTBL [knit through back loop] on this sock.

Yarnissima is a sock-designing genius, and while I’m still not crazy about the feel of the yarn [and can’t imagine a good reason to buy more of it] these socks will nevertheless be enjoyable to make because of the deceptive simplicity of her design. Not to mention how fond I am of the eventual recipient. I think they will feel good on Firstborn’s feet, and I think I will garner all sorts of good-mommy karma if I stop whining and just shut up and knit.

[Yes, BittyBit, I know we don’t say ‘shut up’. I’m saying it to myself, and as far as I know, you can’t read. (Yet.)]

While I am in snarky-mode, I’ll share a change I made to my profile on the Churchboy Dating Service:

One parting shot: My weight fluctuates. If you’re not interested in getting to know me when I’m plump, I’m not interested in getting to know you when I’m skinny. (The bishop didn’t ask me my dress size when he called me to leadership in my ward.)

Wouldn’t it be a hoot if I went to one of the local doll meets and found a guy who is age-appropriate, godly, competent, and harbors a secret longing to know more about the Church and to use his pickup truck to help people move, every Saturday? And likes to build doll furniture?

Frankly, I think my chances are better of that happening, than of meeting Brother Right at one of the dances. A fireside, maybe; guys who go to those tend to have a greater grasp on implementing church doctrine in their personal lives. But almost certainly not at one of the dances. The odds, as I’ve said before, are not good. And the goods are odd.

Trainman and DecoratorDude and I put our pointy little heads together on the train and are planning an outing to the Italian restaurant in Watauga later this month. Brother Sushi can make it; we’re waiting to hear back from LadyZen. Trainman and I plastered her driver’s-side window with sticky notes when we got to the station tonight. She was still burning the midnight debits.

Must. Go. Knit.

Making Tracks

For months and months, the south track at Richland Hills Station has been unusable, i.e., nonexistent. As I zipped across the footbridge to catch the train on Friday, I noticed there were new concrete ties, and workers had begun to replace the rails. I made a mental note to snap a few pictures when I got off the train after work.



This is the view as I stood on the bridge and pointed the camera eastward. I like the play of light and shadow on the concrete. This is a longer view.



No, that is not an incoming train. Those cars are parked way across the road.

You can see that they have not begun to replace the ties on the northern track. I suppose that will come next.



Speaking of making tracks, here are swatches for Cuprit’s welcome-home sweater. I whipped these out while waiting for the frogged yarn on Firstborn’s socks to relax.



I managed to mislay my HiyaHiya’s at the welcome-home party for BestFriend’s son-in-law. I let his mom know, because there were all sorts of pint-size lobotomists running about. She called me about an hour after I’d gotten home. Somebody had found them and put them on top of a bookcase. I’ll pick them up at her house when I’m in town for Knit Night tomorrow.

I guess we should call them Bye-aBye-a needles. [Cue the Backside Boys; I miss Emily Gilmore!]

So, at bedtime, I had 193 stitches cast on my trusty 00 circ for the peplum of a sweater that is only halfway envisioned. I decided that the 5-stitch-wide knit sections should be 4 stitches wide, and the gores should start out 7 stitches wide. The gauge on 000 needles for the section above the gores, is 4 stitches per cm. The gauge on the knit part of the peplum is just a smidgen looser. Which is why I needed those 0000’s, although I might even need to gear down to 00000’s. But first I will do a single knit row using my 000 circ, and then I will put it aside until I get my Hiya/Bye-a’s back.

Oh, and there are beads along the cast-on edge, to go with the ones you can just barely see on the second swatch, up at the top of the gores. These are beads leftover from MS3, on the yarn leftover from Secondborn’s birthday scarf.

Take my hand, I’m a glutton for punishment. [With apologies to Tony Bennett, and Kismet.]

Cannibalistic me...

To my great astonishment yesterday, I found myself eating M&M’s imprinted with my best friend’s face. Her hubby ordered several bags of them for her birthday earlier this year, and I got one. The only thing better than sitting on the couch, knitting and watching Persuasion, is sitting and knitting and watching with an open bag of M&M’s.



The Lace Ribbon Scarf is done. More pictures to follow after it’s properly blocked. That’s two, two finished objects this week, bwa ha ha ha ha! [And I have frogged M. le Clapotis. Swatching for new project will commence later this week.]



How sad is it that I was so antsy to finish this scarf that I did very little puttering yesterday? Behold, one happy couch.



And one happy bathroom sink.



As you can see, I still haven’t painted the bathroom. Firstborn’s socks are next on the agenda.

Do you have any idea how long it takes to frog 250 yards of laceweight silk? You can’t go more than five inches without one stitch hanging onto its neighbor like a reluctant kindergartner on the first day of school: “No Mommy, no Mommy, don’t make me gooooo!”

“In Case You Are Arrested”

That’s what I thought the subject line of the email said. But it said, “In Case You Are Interested”. Which I was not. [Not arrested, either. (Neither?)] I really do have new glasses. Maybe I should clean them.

I managed to stay somewhat busy at work. Bills to pay for a couple of secretaries, one deposition summary to transcribe. Oodles of scanning when I was up at the front desk. Rather more time for daydreaming than I would have liked. Not that I have anything against daydreaming; I just think I shouldn’t necessarily get paid for it.

I skipped the dance last night. Came home and nibbled some dinner: waffles as soon as I got home and took off my shoes, a nuked potato with wasabi ranch a couple of hours later, a cup of pudding sometime after that, all washed down with milk or juice or water. Mostly I stretched out on the couch and knitted and watched August Rush and cried. Not the kind of tears that mean trouble, the kind that are a response to truth and beauty, wherever found.

Every time I watch that movie, I give thanks that Fourthborn’s Fiancé told me I would probably like it. And that Brother Sushi told me about Entertainmart and their discount table.

I had hoped to finish my friend’s scarf before going to bed, but I didn’t quite make it. When I turned out the lights, I had a ball of yarn about the size of a double-yolk extra-large egg and two happily weary hands. I’ve added a few more rows this morning, and I just spread the scarf out on my bed to measure it. Something like 51 inches long, unblocked. I think I have just enough yarn left to do half a pattern repeat and then the few rows of garter stitch at the end. This yarn is 70% merino and 30% silk; it will grow somewhat when I wet-block it. So I should be done with the actual knitting before BestFriend gets here, and if I remember to ask to borrow Rebecca’s blocking wires, I can block it next Wednesday morning before leaving for work.

This is looking like the week of Finished Objects. Which leaves me with three UFO’s:

1. My second Clapotis, from the Claudia Handpainted Silk I bought for my birthday last year. It has been sitting in timeout for several months.
2. Firstborn’s birthday socks, which are next up for finishing.
3. The Anatomically Correct toe-up socks, which have been languishing even longer than Clapotis Deux.

I need to make some time to tidy up around here. The couch is looking sad again. I can and will fix that before BestFriend gets here. And then there is the bag with leftover Malabrigo, the basket with leftover Chelsea Silk from the Sunrise Circle Jacket and a previous incarnation, and the bag of Telemark which I bought to make Autumn Asters without [much] considering grist and gauge.

I also need to put together my gift for tonight’s wedding reception. I am so glad that I bought those candle holders on clearance at Pier One a year or two ago. I sat down when I brought them home and took off all the price tags and popped in a votive candle and wrapped the tissue around them again. They are in a drawer in one of my plastic organizers in the studio, and they are dwindling to a precious few. When I get an invitation, I grab one of them, embellish them, put them into a gift bag with a card, and off I go to eat cake.

If you are getting married and I’m invited, you are getting a nice candle in a pretty holder, with a card that bears my well-thought-out sentiments. I promise not to eat too much cake. Should I marry again in this life, we are not having a reception. We are having a dance and a sheet cake and some punch. Brother Sushi will be the DJ, and it will rock, and nobody needs to bring anything but hugs and their dancing shoes.

As some of my children will be happy to tell you, I. Do. Not. Need. More. Stuff. That doesn’t seem to stop me from acquiring it, though I’ve managed to slow the influx considerably.

In doll news, they have started shipping Cuprit. The first one arrived at its new home the day before yesterday. [I may have mentioned this in yesterday’s post. Or not.] I PM’d the owner last night, asking if she would mind taking specific measurements that are not on Soom’s website. She said she would be happy to do so. I am toying with the idea of frogging Clapotis Deux and knitting a sweater or tunic for my Cuprit. Fourthborn is keeping the default costume, most of which is not to my taste. And I do not want to post pictures of a doll in her birthday suit. There are way too many “cheesecake” shots on the manufacturers’ websites as it is.

I think some of the people who collect these dolls are decidedly strange, rather like stereotypical comic book fans. I aim to remain firmly grounded in reality, while having fun with my daughters and our [growing] resin tribe.

Middlest came up with what we both think is a great idea. Remember the child’s rocking chair I bought at the estate sale which BestFriend’s daughter hosted? The one like the rocker that Dad made for Firstborn? Middlest thinks it is just about exactly the right scale for Cuprit [who will have a different name when she gets here; I have one picked out that is deeply symbolic of what she means to me, but I need to see if it fits her]. She is just over two feet tall, with very long legs. It might give her a safe place to perch while I am at work. And it’s wide enough for two dolls her size to sit. I’ve seen one who looks a lot like Firstborn and LittleBit. I might be saving for her, as well as my Arie.

Breakfast. Breakfast, and then knitting.

“As soon as I take my dad’s phone out of the rice.”

I hear the funniest things at work.

One of my attorneys has an elderly father, and what he thinks happened, is that his dad had the cell phone in his pocket, leaned forward, and it fell into the commode. So my attorney dried off the phone, took out the batteries, and put the damp phone into a container of uncooked rice for several days.

[His wife’s cell phone took a bath a few years ago, and they did this, and it dried out and has worked fine ever since.]

Remind me to pass up any invitations for stir-fry at their home.

Much knitting on the eternal teal scarf yesterday. And pictures of the first Cuprit [that we know of, on DoA] which shipped. Even bald, without makeup, and in the be-nudies, she’s ever so much prettier than the default photos on Soom’s website. She has a killer mouth: Angelina Jolie better look to her laurels!

The Little Knitter Who Could

Here is the collar spread out in all its glory.



The left lapel.



The collar back.



That’s all I have for you this morning. I came home from Fourthborn’s last night and spent 20 minutes waiting for a large red wasp-like flying insect to light on the wall long enough and low enough for me to smack it into oblivion with my flyswatter and flush the remains. I couldn’t tell if it was one of the ones that is harmless but loud, or one of the aggressive ones. It was inside. I was taking no chances. [Or prisoners.]

Once I had that little detail taken care of, I put Runaway Bride into the player and listened to it while finishing the embroidery. When I was done, it was 12:30. This time I reset the alarm for 6:00am. My tub is full. My bag is packed, including or should I say especially the scarf, with the spare partial ball of yarn.

I discovered a small mistake on the scarf, about eight inches from where I am. No, I am not frogging back. I will embroider it shut, or something.

I am outta here in about seven minutes. Bishop gave me some homework last night. Which means no knitting on the couch tonight. But I think there might be a celebratory chocolate muffin when I get to work today.

Autumn Asters, c’est fini!

Most instructive, as Spock would say.

For several weeks, I have not been in the mood to cook. I grab something here, something there, in part because I seem to be living in my car. I try to make relatively healthy choices. I decided to tot up everything I had spent on fast food for the month of July. And then to consider putting an equal amount into savings and as a donation to one or more of my favorite non-church charities.

Why? Several reasons. Enlightened self-interest, for one. I think I would feel better physically if I spent some of that money on healthy snacks so I can graze all day if need be, guilt-free. [There is a nectarine on my desk, as we speak. Was. I should have put it into a paper bag to ripen; I left it one day too long inside the plastic bag. Eww.]

Another point: if I can “afford” to eat that money, I should also be able to afford to save that money.

Third point: I think that money could be put to far better use. The $164.46 that I spent, which does not include sit-down dinners with friends, would buy feed 22 kids for a month OR provide 10 months of clean water for 40 refugees OR five surgical kits through Doctors Without Borders OR buy four goats OR half a cow OR 320 chickens through Rising Star Outreach.

So I logged on to Rising Star and sent them two virtual goats. I like goats; I try really hard to be a good, obedient sheep, but in my heart of hearts I am a goat. And I transferred $164.46 into savings. And I logged on to DWB/MSF and sent them $85.00.

[I have resisted doing my impersonation of a grownup, i.e., paying my bills, but I have them all together, and I’ll do that in a minute. You financial types will be pleased to know that I have barely even glanced at a drive-through since forking over all that cash, though I am contemplating turning over the money I’ve been tempted to spend but haven’t, next payday. If I don’t practice generosity now, while things are still a little tight as I pay off debt, how can I expect to be generous when I am debt-free and solvent?]

And then ~ THEN ~ I went online and almost bought Arie, but I just could not make myself turn loose of all that cash for a doll, all at once. It was the shipping, mostly, but Trainman assures me that that is the going rate for overnight shipping for overseas, and Middlest and Fourthborn tell me that the shipping on larger dolls is even higher. So I put half the money into savings, and when it’s all saved up with some to spare I’ll put on my SuperGem-sized p@nties [on my fingers, you goosies!] and make PayPal very happy.



This was in the neighbor’s yard when I had dinner at my friends’ home on Monday night. I think it is clever, attractive, and a good use of vertical space.

In knitting news, no progress whatsoever on the embroidery on Autumn Asters yesterday, but oodles and oodles of progress on the lace scarf for my friend who moved to Missouri. And I am nearly to the end of the first ball of yarn and I know where the partial ball is that is leftover from Secondborn’s birthday scarf.

I did a load of laundry last night. [Is it sad that that is news?] No Knit Night, just straight to the laundromat from the train station and be done with it. There’s more to do, but it’s not critical. Yet. Tomorrow night will be just fine. I think that tonight I will come home and put my feet up and not-have-meetings and let yard after yard of lovely soft wool glide between my fingers.

The Washerwoman Formerly Known As Bridget

There has been a series of articles over the past couple of years about a sign in Boise that is iconic, to say the least. This is the most recent one, inspired by this one, to which my sister and I objected politely but firmly.

OK, she wrote the polite letters. I wrote the testy ones. [Good sis, bad sis? It worked for us!]

Dad would probably roll over in his grave if he knew that Maytag washers were sullying the premises. Oh, how he loved his Speed Queens!

Girls, Tempa is FirstHubby’s mom. His folks and mine were friends when I played with jacks and he was just one of those stinky boys who lived across the street from the laundromat. I don’t think he and I met until I was 20.

Samwise Gamgee

It occurs to me, after watching The Fellowship of the Ring, that Gandalf is not the only Christ-figure in LOTR. And that Sam is a nearly perfect example of Christian forbearance and forgiveness. Frodo wavers, under duress. Sam never does. He keeps his promise to Gandalf to keep Frodo safe, inasmuch as it is in his power, despite weariness and slander and heartbreak. He is like a [short, hairy-toed] stripling warrior from the Book of Mormon.

Sam is Everyman, serving the best he knows how. Like you. Like me. Knowing that he serves a cause far greater than himself. Knowing that it may cost him his life. And finding within himself a nobility and courage that are all the more profoundly moving for being wrapped up in such a seemingly ordinary and insignificant package.

Remember who you are.

And Whose.

I’m not the only one. (Random thoughts.)

[Just like your friendly local RS president] Brooklyntweed has been burning the candle at both ends. Yes, I will probably be buying his book. He has an amazing eye for beauty.

Speaking of an amazing eye for beauty, this blog is consistently delightful. And yes, I am the Lynn who commented on her post. I think Robi or Shiela might be the only ones who have seen that dress. Shiela, it’s the one I made for my first date with Doug, the midi in various shades of mysterious green, that I wore with my orange belt. Robi, I may still have had that dress after Secondborn arrived, but I blame your good cooking [though not you] for setting my feet on the path of zaftigness! I think I gave it to one of the skinny wenches in our ward when I was pregnant with Middlest. Or maybe it just went to Goodwill.

I found this on Unclutterer’s archives. It would be a good addition to one’s emergency preparedness stuff, and it’s red!

Yesterday was a little weird. I was drowsy after breakfast, so I went back to bed for “just a little nap” and woke up after 1:00 from a dream where I was discreetly but enthusiastically kissing someone I know. [No need to blush, Brother Sushi, it wasn’t you. ☺] I have no idea where that came from. I hope it wasn’t something I ate!

So, no romantic comedies for Ms. Ravelled whilst sewing the final seams of Autumn Asters. And no laundry in the cool of the day. I threw the laundry bag in the back of the car with the thought of doing a load of wash after the baptism. Um, no. Maybe Monday after work.

Natural peanut butter. I started eating it about a year and a half ago. I’ve known for decades that it was better for me. And I also knew that it wouldn’t fly with the girls. The PITA factor with a new jar is truly annoying. And since it has no preservatives [at my age, I need all the preservatives I can get!], you have to keep it in the fridge. But I keep a small jar in the fridge here at home, and another small jar in the fridge at work, and it makes for a satisfying snack or lunch, washed down with a mug or two of milk. Particularly since I can now get whole-grain saltines at Wally World prices.

I think I am finally starting to like the taste. I was that way about freshly-grated nutmeg, too. When you grow up on the stuff in the tiny can with the shaker top, fresh nutmeg can be Whoa, Nellie! [And Whole Foods has a little disclaimer that says pregnant women should not eat fresh nutmeg, in case you didn’t know. There’s your public service announcement for the day.]

Memo to self: in future, avoid most if not all sweaters which have collars. Seaming up sleeves and sides, where the right sides come together, is a piece of cake. Seaming the right side of the collar to the wrong side of the sweater body, and remembering to do that from the inside of the sweater so the seam will be covered by the collar when the sweater is worn, is a royal pain.

Memo to friends and family: do not ask how many tries it took to get this right; I was ever so slightly distracted by Viggo Mortensen as Aragorn. Ordinarily I would prefer Orlando Bloom, as in the Pirates trilogy; in LOTR his integrity in the role of Legolas was all I could see. Not even a blip on the testosterone meter. Sorry, I guess ElvesRNotUs. At least not the male ones. I keep wanting to tell Elrond, “Honey, you need to be eating more than that elvish flatbread; you look like David Bowie in Labyrinth! Get some meat on those bones!”

Maybe I have lived in Texas too long. I like men who are dark [or silver, or nicely bald] and solidly built and not excessively tall. They don’t need to be any taller than, well, fold your arms as if you were a Latter-Day Saint in prayer. Now raise those elbows three to six inches above shoulder level, as if you were kissing somebody goodnight.

About that tall. That way nobody gets a neck-ache.

The baptism. The baptism was great. Very well attended; the Relief Society room was about three-quarters full. He had some non-LDS friends who showed up to support him. Afterward, we teased him that now we had to start dragging him to the singles’ dances, and that it didn’t matter whether he could dance; if he can’t, he has plenty of company. He raised one eyebrow and grinned, “Well, maybe I can dance.” I told him in that case we really needed him at the dances!

Mr. Rogers wants to know if you can say frog in a blender?

We have buttons. I took the mostly-stitched-up Autumn Asters along for the ride when I went to the baptism. And then I drove down to Jo-Ann’s, where I spent 20 minutes looking at buttons and pushing them through buttonholes. For once, there were a lot of definite-maybes that almost made the cut.



Next up? Embroidering the collar, and then all we need is the return of cold weather.

Two brilliant posts, *just* out of reach

Yesterday I had another “need to look busy, typety-type, typety-type” day at work. In which I worked out the majority of two blog posts, which was the good part. And thought to myself, “OK, we’re all on Word 2007 here, no need to save it in 97-2003 compatibility mode.” I felt pretty smart until I got home after the dance last night and sat down to pre-blog.

My computer does not speak Windows 2007. So it sat there, blinking and muttering “Adobe? Excel? Paint?” And probably swearing under its breath in binary.

You will get those two brilliant posts sometime next week, assuming that I remember to (1) re-save the document in compatibility mode and (2) mail it home again.

I could have just as easily called this post “Fiber Therapy”. When I was in the lunchroom, stitching up the second sleeve cap on Autumn Asters, one of my attorneys read a blurb from the weekend section of the paper: fiber therapy at Whirled Fibers [the new yarn store in Duncanville, a few miles southwest of downtown Dallas] from 5:00 until I think 9:00. Open to all knitters, crocheters, spinners, and weavers. And I needed something useful and interesting to do until the dance started at 8:30.

Woohoo!

So I went, early enough to snag one of the particularly good chairs. It was lovely to sit among people I knew [Victoria, who owns the shop and has a great new summer haircut, and Monica and her mom and her daughter] and get to know some new people, several of whom turned out to be doll folk as well.

I felt very welcome, if not entirely comfortable with some of the conversations going on around me. Blessedly, no F-bombs. It’s a diverse bunch, wonderfully creative, and I’m glad I went. I would love to get back there once a month or so.

Even though it was payday, I walked out with no new yarn. Not that I didn’t see lots of pretties, but I have some serious stash-busting to do once I finish this sweater. There is the little matter of all that Telemark I bought, thinking I could use it to make Autumn Asters.

I am planning a quiet, productive day. I need to leave for the laundromat in a little while. I am nearly done stitching up the second sleeve, which leaves the side seam and the collar, and then I can start embroidering. I worked blanket stitch around all five buttonholes yesterday, changing them from sloppy slots to neat little circles while connecting the facing firmly to the right side of the work. It just made no sense to me to leave the buttonholes in two distinct layers knitted at right angles to one another. Too great a chance of only halfway buttoning my sweater.

Not happening.

And there is a baptism tonight. I need to be there in my official capacity as RS president, and in my unofficial capacity as his friend. He got a grin when I told him that. Nice man; he used to work with the husband of one of my friends in the ward. I also need to plan what I’m taking to the break-the-fast tomorrow night.

The dance last night was good. A better turnout than we’ve had since the last singles’ conference [where we had the same DJ, not coincidentally], and great music. A friend and I line-danced lazily to all eight minutes of “Sweet Home Chicago”, followed immediately by “Boot-Scootin’ Boogie”. Needless to say, I was drenched from the top down by the end of the second song.

My feet are deliciously happy campers this morning.

The knitting and the laundry are both calling my name. I think I’ll set the timer and play with needle and thread for 20 minutes before taking on the day.

Then the drink takes a drink...

You know that old saying, “First the man takes a drink, then the drink takes a drink, then the drink takes a man”? I think there must be some sort of ABJD* equivalent. Here I was, knitting away in blissful ignorance, and my child thinks, “I have finally figured out how to connect with Mom in ways that won’t make me break out in hives.” [Poor dear, she is obscenely allergic to wool.]

Some people have visions of sugarplums dancing in their heads. Me? I have increasing numbers of *Asian Ball-Jointed Dolls dancing in mine. While washing my latte cup at work [lest you think I have fallen off the wagon and am consuming lattes leftte and rightte, I use mine for cereal, soup, and the occasional vat of hot chocolate], I had a sudden image of how cute it would be to pose a Dream Of Baby like Arie in the cup, as if she were a teacup poodle or had fallen in tush-over-teakettle. Little flailing hands and feet, a froth of hemstitched petticoats (I don’t care much for her default costume, except for the color) and that distinctively astonished expression she wears.

I like all three of the horoscope-inspired babies. I think Libra’s face is my favorite; she reminds me of Middlest when she was little. Give Libra grey eyes and dark brown hair with the merest hint of wave at the ends, and there’s my baby. The little ABJD dolls don’t do much for me as a rule, but I like these three.

However, I don’t think I have the energy to deal with triplets, human or otherwise. Second-sock syndrome is bad enough. Can you imagine sixth-sock syndrome???

I will want to make a trip over to Kay Fabrics in Richardson; they’re the only people I know who stock fine cotton batiste and handkerchief linen, and they have the best local selection of Ultrasuede. I have always wanted to learn the techniques of French hand-sewing; dolly-scale may very well be the way to go. I have that tiny spade-headed seam presser which my sister gave me when I was quilting as madly as I am presently knitting. It would be perfect for pressing hand-rolled hems and entredeux, also for spiffing up rumpled petticoats and the like.

Speaking of quilting, I am thinking that my Cuprit needs a small quilt to welcome her when she arrives. I need to have Middlest ask her friend Jared how high his Beryl can reach; a quilt ought to be at least that long. I have all manner of small bits of fabric leftover from the family quilting frenzy of a few years ago. I could make a Trip Around the World quilt top fairly quickly and tie it off with beads or miniature buttons at the intersections. Or a Rail Fence. Or I could do an Amish-inspired quilt; that would be even faster.

Can you tell that I had lots of time to think and type yesterday? Not much time for knitting or for sewing things together.

Seams, to me

First shoulder is joined, first sleeve set in. It’s raining like mad out there, so Autumn Asters will not be going to work with me today. The KnitPicks Shadow, doubled, is proving an excellent choice for putting this sweater together.

Lots of happy knitting on the scarf yesterday. I may well reach the halfway point today.

Nice chat with Trainman last night. He’s driving in today and tomorrow. I am planning to ride the train today and drive in tomorrow. It was good to catch up. DecoratorDude got on the train, as well, and sat in front of us until I got off at Richland Hills. His kids have gone back home for the rest of the summer. He’s been driving in while they’ve been here.

We are planning an outing to a restaurant north of FW which is owned by an African who couldn’t get a permit for a restaurant per se, so he opened a stop-and-rob that is way more about the food than the gas or the oversize sodas. Allegedly the [Italian???] food is out of this world.

Life is, knock wood, fairly calm at the moment. I would love to squeeze in a day off between two regular days of the week, one that nobody but me knew about, so it wouldn’t discommode anyone. I had a very productive, peaceful day at work yesterday and am hoping for another one like it today; that doesn’t mean that I couldn’t enjoy a day here on the couch with my movies and my knitting. Not to mention dry feet. I could use feet like Soom’s Cass in about half an hour.

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Momday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday. Works for me!

As Well As Ornamental...

Making myself useful, that is. I try to do it as a matter of principle. It keeps me out of the pool halls, for one thing. It also keeps me from chewing off a paw. Kinda hard to knit with only one paw.

I spent yesterday looking for stuff to do. I paid invoices for a couple of the legal secretaries. I did a little drop-filing. I recorded a few expenses in our expense-tracking system. I drank about half of a non-Cherry Coke in an effort to remain vertical and somewhat coherent. [No snickering from the peanut gallery, if you please.]

I ate way too much pepper-Jack cheese. And nowhere near enough chocolate.

I did a few piddly things for the office manager, who was working remotely. I helped scan the incoming mail. I twitched a lot. And I was the one whose “may I please go home early?” email hit the office manager’s inbox first. So I negotiated with the switchboard operator, who was equally at loose ends. And I left the office at 3:15 after covering the front desk for her break. [I love getting three personal days a year, and the option of converting up to five vacation days into PT.]

I plugged my phone into the car charger and called NailDude. Could he see me around 4:00? He could. So I got the popped-off nail replaced and the others tidied up, went from there to LittleBit’s work to see if she was there [she wasn’t] and on to the bookstore for Knit Night. I stayed while my friends came in, one and two at a time, visited a little, showed Monica how to cable without a cable needle, said goodnight, and headed for home just as things were getting exciting.

It was a good, restful evening filled with people I like and a reasonable amount of solitude. I put a few more rows on my friend Jenifer’s scarf: something like three or four inches total for the day. My eyeball tells me that I am more than halfway through this ball of yarn; I am not particularly interested in walking over to the coffee table and firing up my digital scale to confirm it. I have another partial ball, leftover from Secondborn’s birthday scarf last year, which should be sufficient to make this scarf the perfect length. I think I am just over one-third done. And suddenly, I am enjoying working on it again.

Once it is finished, I will pick up Firstborn’s birthday socks. If I time it right, they will be done about the time my doll arrives from Korea.

I am hoping to have Autumn Asters assembled and its collar embroidered in time for Knit Night next week. I might even have found buttons for it by then, but if not, there is a JoAnn’s not far from the bookstore, or Fourthborn and I can make a field trip to the one by Secondborn’s house, not-coincidentally also near the bead store. I would love to reproduce some of the necklaces in the Sundance catalog in doll scale.

Or there is Benno’s in Dallas [oh please, oh please, don’t make me go to the button store].

This is probably enough nonsense for one post.