Exciting News!

Well, for me at least: the first batch of yarn which I ordered when I was snowed in last week, arrived safely at work yesterday. Habu silk tweed, Xie bamboo, and Karabella Supercashmere Fine. Each glorious in its own way. Swatching to begin shortly.

Can’t find the Word document with my notes on Chutzpah’s sweater, so I will have to sit down with pen and paper to count stitches and reconstruct it. I want to reproduce it in the Habu and then the Xie, for my Etsy shop. And then in cashmere. I looked in my finished objects on Ravelry to see if I had saved the pattern there, but no such luck.

One wheel, reinvented, coming right up. And yes, I want fries with that, but I will happily take tater tots instead.

Work went well yesterday. It was so nice to be back. With permission, I left a little early to order the cake for Friday’s group birthday party, which was postponed from last Friday because of the weather. More of which we may get tonight.

Selfishly, I hope any storm we get hits after I bring home the second yarn shipment and after everyone is safely off the roads and tucked in at home. I will plan on picking up more snackage, as a friend’s daughter calls it, on my way to work this morning. I had enough to eat last week, and I ate well, and it would have been nice to have had more options.

There was a catalogue from a shipping supplies place, waiting in my mailbox last night. Now to compare its contents and prices with those offered at the Etsy shop. I would far rather support another crafter.

Packers 1, Glee 0

I have no explanation for it. I ransacked my brain, trying to figure out if I was just being a good sport so the new guy would like me.

Nope.

I watched an entire football game. I asked reasonably intelligent questions. I may even have made some noise when the Packers scored that second touchdown. [I should probably tell my sister, who inherited our dad’s football-loving genes. Nah.]

They are not going to believe this at work. Nor the fact that I, the Anti-Tamale, ate half of one and thought it was pretty tasty, too.

After the game and the blah-blah that followed, we watched the first few minutes of Glee. I don’t get it. It’s not funny enough to be a comedy. There wasn’t enough singing in what we saw, for it to be a musical (though what we saw was better than the half-time show). And Jane Lynch’s character is just boring.

That’s the big secret of the universe: evil is boring. [In case you were wondering.] It just hopes you don’t figure that out. Goodness, in all its infinite variety, is the only thing that matters.



He’s wearing that to work today. And I have five minutes to get dressed and out the door if I want a stress-free commute.

There is cheesecake in the fridge. Pippa was right.

Does this football make my knitting look fat?

This is too good not to share.

The adult session of stake conference was just glorious last night. I am still processing it. And I will probably go on at length about it, some other day. Right now I am figuring out what to pack, in case the roads turn bad tonight and I end up spending the night at the home of the new guy’s bishop and family.

If I prepare for that, the roads will be bare and dry. If I blow it off, we will get the next storm a few days early, and I will get stuck on the High Five until the Tuesday after Easter.

The High Five is an interchange in North Dallas, where Coit Road and Central Expressway and I-635 all come together and dance around one another. It’s like tatting, for cars. It’s called the High Five because of how tall some of the overpasses are (and there are probably five of them, but I’ve always been so busy staying in my own lane that I’ve never had time to count). Let’s just say that when I’m bearing west onto 635 from Central, I am further from the ground than I was at the Clapton concert in 1998. And nowhere near as happy about it.

So, once I’m packed, I get to figure out today’s church knitting. If the general session of stake conference is anything like last night, I will be too busy taking notes and wiping my eyes to do much knitting, but again it’s better to take knitting and not need it, than need it and not have it.

And I have Not Clue One as to what football knitting might be. So I'm heading over to Ravelry in a few minutes, because after stake conference, and after I drop my friend at her home, I am heading across Dallas to watch the new guy, and the one son I have yet to meet, watch the Super Bowl. My children find this almost as amazing as I do.

Ms. Ravelled visits Testosteroneville.

They say the natives are friendly.

It even makes coleslaw!

I have been shredding this week. All of my business records from when I was an independent beauty consultant (skincare and makeup), and now my old payslips, some dating back to 2000, which was my first full year working for my current employer. It’s lovely to compare my yearly gross from as recently as five years ago with what I am making now as a legal secretary. I can easily see the fingerprints of Heaven all over this.

I listened to a lot of podcasts yesterday. I love David Reidy’s voice, so calm and thoughtful. It may not be the male voice I most wanted to hear (there was supposed to be a dance for the singles last night, but it was canceled because of the snow and ice); however, it was an acceptable placebo.

I am nearly done with another doll hat. I’m trying something a little different with the shaping of the crown: 12 wedges in this size, as opposed to 10, and I knitted the straight part a little longer in compensation. This might be done before breakfast, but if not, then shortly thereafter.

I may have gotten a bit of inspiration while I was puttering about yesterday. Snoods. Basically an oversize doily with a band around the perimeter to bring it in so that it corrals the hair and frames the face neatly. Middlest and Fourthborn, do you think there might be a market among the steampunk resin crowd for something like that? (Maybe attach a miniature watch face to the band, instead of a flower or beads or a bow?) I need to run that by Mel and Onna and see what they think, too.

I did a little research this morning on pricing and availability for the Lendrum wheel. More pages bookmarked in the Spinning folder.

I also priced little clear bags to hold the finished hats. I asked the ribbon vendor where she gets hers, and I checked out that site. Very reasonable. Now I just need to figure out the rest of the packaging, my business card, what colors to use, etc. I’m supposed to have dinner with Brother Sushi next Friday, and I need to have him translate the Japanese bits on the Noro ball-band so that when I finish writing my ad copy, it is as perfect as I can make it in terms of description and care instructions.

I am hungry enough that my thoughts are starting to skitter about like drops of water on a hot griddle. I should probably do something about that.

Oh, and I finished that bobbin of handspun that I started before Christmas. It’s awfully pretty, but I won’t know if it’s any good until I’ve washed it and set the twist. Meanwhile, I have a new bobbin started, which may or may not be the definition of insanity.

We have the adult session of stake conference tonight, and the general session tomorrow, and it will be lovely to get out of the house and get some spiritual nourishment before heading over to the new guy’s for TexMex and cheesecake. I am trying to prioritize properly and to be more excited about the former than I am about the latter. Sometimes I even succeed.

Breakfast. Breakfast would be good.

9:37a.m.

This is what I saw when I opened my eyes (again) at 9:37a.m.



Because this is what greeted me when I first awoke at 3:00a.m.



Which is not all that different from what I saw on Tuesday morning, after putting the trash and recycling out on Monday night:



Yes, I am home again today. But since I got out of the house yesterday, and I got to interact with others in a non-virtual way, I am quite content. Also, I hit the grocery store on my way home from work, so I did not have to break out the almond milk.

Have had a lovely exchange this morning over on Facebook with my friend Jerry, formerly of California and currently of The Land of Ice and Snow. He knits. He spins. He’s 6’4” and can probably take anyone who thinks he should turn in his man-card. [The new guy also knows how to knit, thanks to a teacher in high school who gave him that task as part of his grade.]

More lovely things, for my girls who love shoes, or anybody else who does.

As for me, I am taking my poor sad misshapen toes over to the couch and curling up for some quality time with yarn and needles, while listening to David Reidy. I finished the last of Tuesday’s brownies when I woke up the first time, so there will probably be more baking later today.

Life is good.

429,392,425

Allegedly, that is the top score for Mah Jongg Dimensions (which I sometimes call Mah Jongg Dementia) on the AARP website. I suspect that that score was not garnered by somebody who belongs on AARP. I suspect it was somebody’s grandchild or great-grandchild, with faster reflexes or a symbiotic relationship with his/her computer. (Hello, Jane?)

My top score is in the 15,000’s. And I am neither blind nor slow of hand.

Management kept our office closed yesterday, saving me from having to decide whether to burn a day of vacation, because I really did not want to have to walk down my front steps to the car. I knew that once I got into Lorelai, I would be fine. I know how to drive on this stuff.

Mid-afternoon, I had had enough of sitting on the couch with my knitting, no matter how lovely the fire or the podcasts. I needed to get out, so out I went, all bundled up like the Abominable Snowmom. Only to find that Lorelai had no intention of starting. The last couple of times I made it out of the driveway, there was just the faintest hint of a suggestion that the battery might be thinking of dying. Yesterday I did not have enough juice to turn over the engine.

So I took myself back into the house and got back on the couch for more knitting and more podcasts, and I was in bed a little after 10:00, all knitted out, having arrived at that point I used to reach at 2:00a.m. when I would get cold and shaky and ready to weep from exhaustion.

I love my own company. We get along quite well, me, myself, and I. And I was not physically cold, thanks to my friend E. up in Oklahoma who reminded me, via Facebook, that the ceiling fan, reversed, would do a fine job of bringing the lovely hot air down from the ceiling, which it is. No, this was a case of my spirit and my body telling me enough.

I did wish, in that brief interval between lying down and falling asleep, that I were happily married and could snuggle with my spouse. I wonder how many sweet babies will show up in North Texas in late October and early November, who might not have were it not for this cold snap? (Pittsburgh and Green Bay may also experience a boomlet of their own. I read that we were expecting 150,000 of their citizens here for the Super Bowl. There may well be a few hundred more making the return trip.)

I mused last night that the ice storm has prevented what I was dreading: Super Bowl traffic on my daily commute. Again, our office is scheduled to open at 10:00a.m., but that is subject to revision. And I am scheduled to serve in the temple tonight, but when I called last night to tell them that there might be a problem getting in, there was a message saying that they were closed due to the inclement weather. [I will check back with them in a few hours.]

Which reminds me that my clementines, all but two of them, and a bunch of bananas are waiting for me at the office. At this rate, the yarn I ordered on Tuesday will get there before I do. I got an email saying that one order shipped out yesterday, Priority Mail. I haven’t heard back from the other vendor, but she lives just over the border in Ontario, and our storm was headed her way on Tuesday night, so she may be snowed in, too.

I am officially hungry, and there is a tad of leftover pizza in the fridge (I baked two mini Boboli last night, just the bread with generous shavings of Asiago, and it was heavenly.) And then I think I will make a nice pot of apple oatmeal and listen to the next installment of Sticks & Strings. I tried listening to the KnitPicks podcast last night, but I couldn’t get the volume quite loud enough.

I’m nearly done with the hat I was working on yesterday, and today I think I may take a break and knit a human-sized one for some knitterly instant gratification. It would give me a chance to try out a pattern I have in mind for a Chutzpah-sized hat.

The city says that the garbage trucks (which were due on Tuesday) will be going out today, but that they won’t come for the recycling until next week. So I will get a little exercise lugging those two bins back to the side of the house.

And I’m hoping my neighbor will be here to jump-start Lorelai if I really do have to go into work today. That trip would involve a quick detour to buy a new battery. But if I’m home again all day, there will be some serious baking.

Be good. Stay warm.

Love Me Tender (Clams)

The can says, “Now with more tender clams!” And [irreverent me] I wonder, do they mean it contains more claims, which were historically, and continue to be, tender? Or do they mean that they are putting in clams in the same quantity as before, only now they are tender?

The English, she is such a funny language.

If I were a betting woman, I would bet that Phil is not going to poke his head above ground today, Groundhog Day or no.

So, yesterday was a little expensive. I bought the burgundy (I think burgundy, maybe plum) laceweight tweed that I’ve been coveting for several months. Also a couple of small balls of laceweight silk tweed, one in dusty rose, and another in what may be celadon, or maybe just celery. She warned me that the colors on my monitor were not necessarily accurate. And then I went to another website and bought some ultrafine laceweight (possibly verging on cobweb?) in a silk, a bamboo, and a cashmere.

I had asked some of my DoA friends for feedback on pricing my work, and they were wonderfully helpful. Furthermore, one of them suggested that if I concentrate on things that would fit Chutzpah and her ilk, I could charge top dollar. There is just not a whole lot out there that is of proper scale. And she wondered if I would be willing to knit in acrylic (no!) or cotton (maybe, but probably not) for dolls whose owners ~ like Fourthborn ~ have issues with most animal fibers. Hence some of those very specific choices, above. Cannot wait to get my hands on that stuff.

I also spent some time washing and blocking the hats I’ve completed. Secondborn, we may want/need to reshoot them, plus the new ones I’ve made since I got together with you, because the washing and blocking has really changed the feel and the drape of them.

And I started another hat, to fit larger dolls like Blessing. There’s a lot out there for the mid-sized dolls, but the Super Gem size is seriously under-served. So if I focus on both ends of the spectrum, I have an excellent chance of building up a good clientele.

Work has been delayed until 10:00am, at the earliest, and the weather line should have an update around 7:00. I am hoping for another day at home with my knitting, although I’d have to switch to almond milk before the day is out. If this weather continues into tomorrow, I’ll be ready to chew off a paw. I don’t do stuck very well. I have my Gmail open and my my Yahoo! mail open and my phone turned on. As well as the rest of yesterday’s clam chowder nuking in the microwave, because my feet are cold and I don’t want to put on socks until I’ve showered. What I really want is mac and cheese, but all of my instant is at work, and I don’t have the right kind here at home to make it from scratch.

Sitemeter says 40,853 visits here since July 2006, and 48,384 page views. I remember how excited I was when I hit 10,000. Boggles. The. Mind.

Dallas, Arlington, and Fort Worth ISD’s are closed again today, as are most if not all of the outlying school districts. Our weather line says we will delay opening until 10:00 but that the message will be updated by 8:30, which gives me plenty of time to clean up, dress warmly, and dig out poor Lorelai in case I really do need to make that drive. I hope that everybody who has to drive in today, makes it there safely, and home again in one piece. And I hope that the roads will be in good shape for Friday night, when I have speed dating (ugh!) followed by a dance.

Love my new printer. Adore its scanning function. I just pulled all of my ID’s out of my wallet and scanned them front and back: TXDL, health insurance card, organ donor card, library card, etc. I also have a little folded-up piece of paper that peeks out from behind my TXDL and says “In Case of Emergency”. Now, mail comes in the front door, junk mail goes right to the recycling pile, bills are entered on my Excel spreadsheet (possibly scanned, definitely shredded), and I am steadily whittling down the “deal with this” pile.

Time to stop procrastinating my shower. The water is hot enough, but the bathroom is on the other side of a wall from the fireplace, and it’s colder than a bill collector’s heart in there.

Snow Day.

They weren’t kidding when they said the weather might turn interesting today. Fort Worth ISD is closed. Arlington ISD is closed. Dallas ISD is closed. And our office is closed. Which means a play day in front of the fire with books and knitting.

It’s still dark out there. I’ve been up for a couple of hours, blitzed through my Google Reader, nattered a bit on Facebook, put the makings of pumpkin soup into the crockpot, and nuked myself a bowl of apple oatmeal, which I am eating between phrases or sentences.

The fireplace hasn’t stopped since before I woke up. I’m glad that I put the trash and recycling out last night. No telling if the city will be by to pick up the contents; I would hate to have that job on any day, but on a day when it’s raining and maybe sleeting, brrr!

The latest doll hat only needs to have the ends woven in. I’ve put out feelers on Facebook and Den of Angels, for suggestions as to how to price them. I noodled about on Etsy last night, looking at people hats and doll hats, knowing that my workmanship puts me on the high end of the scale and wondering how to convey that in ad text so that people think, “Wow, that’s a great price for something well-made,” and not, “She is seriously underpricing her work” or [worse], “That much? For a doll hat?”

I’ve seen handspun, handknitted hats for humans in the $60-90 price range. I’ve seen doll hats and a few sweaters that are Honor-sized or Chutzpah-sized which are cleverly done, in beautiful colors, but with yarn that would be a better scale on a larger doll, so the total effect is more homemade than handmade. I’ve not seen a lot of exquisitely crafted work, but I have seen some.

I think there is definitely a niche for what I do. And I think I will spend the next couple of hours working on ad copy, so that when I can get down to Secondborn’s [probably not today] to pick up the pictures she has already taken, and to have her photograph the four new hats I’ve made since then, I can put it all together.

Meanwhile, I’m just glad for a quiet day at home with my fireplace and my knitting and my books and my thoughts. Brownies may ensue, later.

Be good, everybody. Try to stay warm.

1300

That was the number of yesterday’s post. Last year I hit 1066, amusingly appropriate because I was reading Sharon Kay Penman’s meticulously researched series of historical novels about William the Conqueror (a/k/a William the Illegitimate Person ~ more or less ~ and hard to say if it was because of his birth or his attitude). It looks as if I will be blowing kisses at Christopher Columbus’ ghost sometime before the end of the year.

The kitchen still smells like burnt bagel. I am the Death Star of small appliances.

Nearly done with the doll hat which I cast on before bedtime on Friday night [that was the first thing I grabbed after I found my glasses this morning]; may have solved the technical problem with the shawl; have an idea for a silk/wool lace beret or maybe even a sweater from the leftover Gloss Lace; and even put a few more rows on the moss green alpaca putative cowl before crashing last night.

Now it’s on to GoogleReader and a quick dash through the AARP games and get ready for work and scoot on out the door.

A good Sabbath almost guarantees a good Monday.

Odds. Ends. Puzzlements.

My W-2 arrived yesterday, and my taxes are filed. I am not entirely happy with TurboTax. I learned last year that one cannot downgrade to a less-expensive program without signing up as a new account and losing access to the former information. Furthermore, if one wishes to have the $29.95 service charge for the deluxe program (my bank subsidizes part of the cost of filing) subtracted from one’s refund, and the refund electronically deposited, there is an additional $29.95 charge for a temporary account at some mythological e-bank. Time value of money, and all that.

My 2009 and 2010 returns were exceedingly simple, just a W-2 and a dab of interest, but I had used the deluxe program for several years because of my stint as a purveyor of skincare products and cosmetics. (And was able to deduct the cost of filing as a legitimate business expense, which I will get to do again for 2011.)

I do believe that I will be saving the PDF’s for my old returns onto my hard drive (the few which are not already there), and next year I may look around for a more flexible product. On the other hand, I will have inventory and cost of goods sold, and that legitimate business deduction, and by next tax season I may no longer be miffed at TurboTax.

So, not sure if that was an odd or an end. I think the following definitely qualifies as an end.



It’s the end of the toast as we know it. It’s the end of the toast as we know it. (But I feel fine. And Mom always said that charcoal was good for the teeth, as well as for the digestion.) Or, put another way, looks like I was right when I suspected that my toaster was, well, toast.

The Steamfresh rotini with broccoli in cheese sauce is a Good Thing. Pasta, which I love, and cheese, which I love, and stupid broccoli, which I (h)ate.

I grabbed that last bit of the purple Manos Lace leftover from Lark’s shawlette, and my 0000 needles, and cast on for a simple shawl in doll scale. I am stuck midway through the second pattern repeat, unsure of where the decreases should start. I’ve tinked it back, twice. When I get off the computer, I will go grab my Barbara Walker stitch dictionaries and see if there is an approximation in there. The yarn informed me before church that it wanted beads, which took it out of the realm of mindless church knitting.

So I then dug out the remnants of the Alpaca Cloud ball which I had wound into a cake, then taken the ends and rewound into a two-strand cake, and repeated for a cake composed of a four-strand yarn, which I promptly decided that I hated (this was a couple of years ago; I cannibalized that ball for the cowl I made my sister for her birthday last year). And either my size 5 or size 6 circ, and off to church I went. Knitted happily on a funky little swatch before realizing what the yarn wanted to be, frogged the swatch, and started again while waiting for a friend who doesn’t drive to run a quick errand after church.

[She’s a relatively new member. I’ll save the we don’t shop on Sundays lecture for another time, and in the meantime she had a prescription in the mire, so to speak. I remember after Dad died, when two of my dear LDS friends kidnapped me after church and told the bishop that they were taking me out for Death by Chocolate, in case anybody else who happened to be beating the daylights out of the Sabbath at the same establishment, or saw us entering it, should choose to narc to him. He said, strictly off the record, that it was probably an excellent idea.]

Where was I? Oh. Knitting.



It’s a little fuzzy, but then it’s alpaca. I think it wants to be a sideways cowl, with short rows broken up by garter stitch ridges. All I know is, it’s not arguing with me or nattering on about beads.

I have a new email address. Those of you who write to me, email me at the old one or on Facebook, and I’ll give it to you. I’m not sure I’ve adjusted it here on the blog. Figuring that out just feels a little too much like laboring on the Sabbath at the moment.

My bank instituted a program year before last, wherein debit card purchases gave one points which could be redeemed for goodies. They discontinued the program at the end of last year, and miracle of miracles when I was purging files last fall, I found all the old certificates, which I needed to enter into their system. The last one came yesterday, and they will be mailing me some kitchen knives in a knife block. [I finished up 23 points shy of the next award level. Broke my heart.] I was torn between the kitchen knife set and a Swiss Army Knife, but I figured that the kitchen knife set would be harder to misplace and less likely to get me in trouble at an airport.

And now if you will all kindly excuse me, I am ready to head over to the couch and commune with yarn.

Minutiae

Another doll hat is finished, and a new one is on the needles. It’s a small one, so I may very well start and finish it today, although I think this may turn out to be a day for sewing, once I get the laundry and grocery shopping done.

I think my toaster may be fixin’ to give up the ghost. Twice in the past few days, the wires have remained on after the toast has popped up. I’ve had to push the lever down and pop it back up manually, to shut it off. I’ll watch it carefully, but I don’t smell any burning wires or anything.

I tidied the fridge before breakfast. There was baby spinach which was ready for a pension. And I am down to one egg, which means that this will not be a Saturday like last weekend, where I didn’t get out of my jammies all day.

But first, I think I will take a wee nap. I woke up at 3:45, which seems to be the new normal if this past week is anything to go by, and I think it’s time to show my pituitary or hypothalamus or navel, or whoever thinks they are in charge of how much sleep I get, who is really and truly in charge around here. [I’ll wait while you all stop laughing.]

I got through an entire week without Cherry Coke. I did it by willpower, stretching, and much giving-myself-a-good-talking-to. Also, in the interest of full disclosure, my friend who runs the deli in my building has not been carrying Cherry Coke, and I find that I’m no longer crazy about regular Coke. I’ve been wondering if some of my food sensitivity issues might be linked to Cherry Coke, and so far the jury is still out.

The fireplace just kicked on, so I am going to bask (or maybe baste would be a better word), and then I am going to make a mad dash for bed before I cool off. And then I will get up and deal with minutiae.

Middlest posted about the new Iplehouse limited edition doll. Male sculpt, and he weighs 3 kilos. Jessica was something like 1.94 kilos, and she was just too massive for me to wrangle. So, not even tempted, though the new limited edition tinies are both cute. I would love to have the flame wings and boots for one of my other girls, but I’m not willing to add that to my order for Naias, who is meant to be a water sprite. [The Iplehouse tinies are elemenals: Byuri is air, Naias is water, Efreet is fire, and the other one, whose name escapes me, is earth.]

Still waiting on my W-2 but am guessing today or tomorrow.

Naptime.

This is a test. This is only a test.

Though it might very well be one measure of how much I like the new guy. Girls, you might want to sit down, and brace yourselves. Ready? OK then.

He invited me to come have dinner and watch the game on Super Bowl Sunday. And bring my knitting, just in case he is not able to convert me to the true faith (i.e., football).

We all know how I feel about football.



But I like the guy. And he makes the effort to appreciate what I like. Remember the wee bear he gave Chutzpah for Christmas?

I don’t expect to like the game; I haven’t liked football since I joined the pep club my sophomore year in high school and had to stand and scream for three hours, and it wasn’t even a flattering pep club uniform (kelly green jacket and skirt; mustard yellow shirt; hello? so not me!). But I think it will be fun to watch him, watching the game. And I will get to meet the one son I haven’t met but have spoken to on the phone.

And he’s making cheesecake.

Boo!

Eek!

The musical equivalent of skeet shooting.

With my emotions as the target. It started with this song on the drive home last night. And I thought “amen!” and switched stations when it was over, only to hear this one. At which point I was seriously regretting having handed over the box of Puffs which I keep in Lorelai to a friend at church on Sunday.

The Wistful Fairy? She is one mean mama.

So I changed stations again, this time to hear Brad Paisley, always a winner in my book. And I was wiping my eyes from laughter, instead of simply wiping my eyes. Sly cowboy trumps soggy fairy every blessed time.

I was supposed to go visiting teaching last night, but my friend has apparently picked up the strep her son was so willing to share. So I came home and fired up the last half of “Truly Madly Deeply,” because the only thing better than Brad Paisley’s voice is Alan Rickman’s, and soon I no longer felt like howling at the moon or shooting out the lights.

The grey/taupe/tan doll hat is finished. A smaller one is underway in a rich, dark purple and whatever follows that out from the depths of the ball. Noro is addictive stuff; I keep adding one more row, one more round, because of the way one color flows into the next.

Spent some time this morning working on my budget and writing checks for the bills I will be paying tomorrow, so that’s done. I’ll make a payment on my Iplehouse Naias, which will put me a month ahead on her layaway. Still waiting for my W-2, which should be here any day now. I’ve already entered my interest earned for the year and only have to plug in the amounts for gross income and my 401K deductions. (I now have a regular 401K and a Roth.)

I need to gather up my lunch stuff and my dinner stuff and my temple bag, and then I can curl up on the couch for some guilt-free knitting before it’s time to hop in the shower. I got almost six full hours of sleep last night, which bodes well for my productivity at work and with my knitting today.

Incremental progress.

On a number of levels, in a number of aspects.

First, the scanner. When I got home last night, the annual statement from Social Security was waiting for me. I read the numbers, scanned and shredded the paper copy. Then I went to my files and pulled out last year’s and several others, going back to 2000’s statement for 1999, which was my first full year of full time work after getting my associates degree and my divorce in 1998.

My first year of paying into the system, 1970, I earned $21. My 2000 statement projected my monthly benefit at retirement, based on past earnings, at a little over $300. I am pleased to report that it’s somewhat higher now, after 12+ years of gainful employment.

The hat which I cast on, on Saturday, is nearly done. I began the decreases at lunch yesterday, and 75% of the stitches are gone, and it’s shaping up nicely. I am going to toss the smaller hat (which fits Honor) into my bag so that I can cast one on as soon as this one is bound off and the ends are woven in.

Last night turned into an adventure. After Relief Society, I went out to the car and discovered that my car key had disappeared from my pocket / the key ring. I have one of those key rings where I can pop the car key off so I don’t mess up the electronic ignition with the weight of the key ring as a whole. We had to call one of my friends, who came and picked us up (us being his wife, whom I had planned on taking home, plus the friend I had picked up to take to Relief Society, and me), drove us here, where I knew exactly where the spare key was and walked right back out again, and back to the church. At that point, the car which had been parked to the left of Lorelai was gone, and there was the first car key, lying on the pavement where it had bounced.

In other good news, one of my friends just lobotomized her computer, and she has a newer-than-mine tower to donate to the cause. (I have been grousing on Facebook about my computer issues.) I will pick it up tonight when I go visiting teaching. [She also promised homemade gingersnaps, as if visiting her were not reason enough to go.]

Secondborn says the problem is with my motherboard, and that 2BDH can work all kinds of wonders if I give him a new(er) tower to work with. So I think this is going to be another amazing day; I hope for significantly less nerve-wracking reasons than parts of yesterday.

Up against the wall, redneck motherboards?

Yesterday was something of a miracle.

I was up into the wee hours, then down again for a nap before work, and forgot to set my alarm. I reset the time, just didn’t push the button, and woke up ten minutes after I like to be out the door for a stress-free commute.

By the grace of Heaven, I was washed and dressed and out the door twenty minutes later, and I made it to my desk, breakfast in hand, with three minutes to spare.

Whew. [The only reason there was a blog post yesterday was because I wrote it before I went to bed and set it to publish at a plausible time.]

And it was a reasonably productive day once I got there. I did a little visiting teaching last night, was in bed by 10:00, and up again a little before 3:00.

Ahem.

I am nearly to the decreases on the doll hat I began on Saturday. I shall probably finish it tonight. We have a Relief Society meeting, so no Knit Night for me, but I am looking forward to seeing my church friends and getting ideas to tweak my budgeting skills. And of course I shall be knitting while I’m sitting.

I started researching a new computer last night. Sigh. Today I’ll check on what bargains might be available through the discount program at work. But I would really much rather be knitting up inventory for my Etsy shop, which *gasp* is scheduled to open next week.

This is the part where I get out of my pajamas and put on my jeans and grab the gym bag and leave the house. I would really rather just go back to bed, but I woke from the dream where I am an anti-terrorist assassin for the U.S. government (I know; I think it was probably the bean burrito I had for dinner), and I don’t think I can jump out of another helicopter before breakfast.

A plain block of frozen spinach.

One more thing that I took for granted until it apparently became extinct. Last week I bought a Pictsweet creamed spinach [serves two, if they’re not me], and it was tasty, but it wasn’t what I wanted. Don’t get me wrong: I love all the steamer bags of tarted-up veggies. I am insufficiently appreciative of veggies, unless they are potatoes, so anything that makes them more appetizing is pretty much fine with me.

But sometimes all I want is a big bowl of spinach with a little butter and some lemon juice, without the bother of washing it and chopping it and actually cooking it. And once you get past the color the noodles turn, a block of spinach and a block of ramen noodles, simmered together and drained, with a can of tuna rinsed and drained and stirred in, is comfort food that is cheap, fast, easy, and nearly guilt-free.

While I have made probably hundreds of tuna-noodle casseroles using Cream of Whatever soup, for some reason the idea of stirring creamed spinach into tuna and ramen just makes me gag.

My children are shaking their heads.

I spent some time last night (this morning) playing with the scanning function on my new printer. Scanned all of last year's tithing receipts with the reconciliation from tithing settlement, then fed all the paper to my shredder. I also scanned the paperwork related to that medical study on menopause and heart health. Over the course of the next year or so, I will be able to work my way through my file cabinets and eliminate most of what's in there, and then I can give away one or both of the file cabinets to someone who needs them.

This is going to be such a blessing, especially for things like my quarterly 401K statements from the movie theatre, which do not come electronically, and for random bills. I am also going through old duplicate check stubs, looking for particular information, and shredding as I go. I shredded several for LittleBit’s voice lessons when she was a senior. Fourteen pads of checks, in total, before I went to bed. Not bad for an hour or so’s work.

Lovely quiet day yesterday.

I did not leave the house. I did not get out of my pajamas. Mostly, I just knitted. I only spoke to one living soul, a brief conversation with Brother Sushi, followed by a quick text message, also to him.

I finished the pink and purple doll hat. I cast on another one in dark neutrals, intending to save the knitting of it for tomorrow, but I was already four rows past the ribbing when I stopped last night. It is set aside for the Sabbath, but it will be one of the first things my hands touch tomorrow morning.

I also cast on for a spiral-knit hat (or possibly just a cowl) in some of my leftover Malabrigo and Manos from my Autumn Asters cardigan of 2009. I’m using the same technique as for the green thingie, which did not see much play after Wednesday morning, when doll hat madness seized me. I’m not sure that I like the color combinations. It may very well get frogged tomorrow.

I finished connecting my printer and charged up my iPod, only to find out that I cannot presently use iTunes, because this dear dinosaur of a computer runs on Windows 2000 5.0, and I need at least XP SP2 (also, ahem, obsolete).

When the going gets tough, the tough eat chocolate. But I did not want to [get dressed and] leave the house, so I baked a pan of brownies in my new LeCreuset casserole and cut them into two dozen bites. Twenty-two of which are now reposing in the fridge.

I have not yet figured out today’s church knitting, and I have a narrow window of time in which to do so, as I need to leave in about 45 minutes to pick up my new friend for church.

Oh well, I do some of my best thinking while in the shower. Have a blessed and peaceful Sabbath.

Kureyon, my wayward son.

I don’t know, I was just suddenly reminded of the old Kansas song.

I have had an exceptionally productive week at work. When I went home last night, there were no ToDo’s undone. That will change; I expect a positive blizzard of them once my attorney comes in.

The singles are assisting with baptisms tonight. I will either wear a skirt to work, or take one (we wear our Sunday best to the temple). I don’t know if I am up for a third consecutive day of temple service, but I certainly understand how Anna, the prophetess mentioned briefly in the New Testament, could have served her entire widowhood there. Oh, the peace that follows you home afterward!

I am almost ready to begin the decreases on a doll hat. The fireplace is humming. Part of me wants to brew up a pot of Abuelita (Mexican hot chocolate, with cinnamon) and sit on the couch all morning, wool in hand.

We are doing lunch and a movie at work today, watching the last half of You Can’t Take It with You, with Jimmy Stewart and friends. Lovely. I don’t suppose men ever talked to their sweethearts the way he does to his, but all of us were sighing wistfully.

It’s supposed to be colder than a bill collector’s heart out there today. Bundle up. Drink some hot chocolate. Tell the folks you love, that you do.

[Y’all? I do.]

Knowing which side my shea is buttered on.

@ Pamela: mostly I found sources for shea butter online, but my need was too immediate to wait on shipping. Aveeno makes a product [Skin Relief Moisturizing Lotion] with oatmeal and shea butter, unscented, and between that and the Renew [from Melaleuca] which my friend Tom gave me at the dance the other night, my hands are mostly healed. I bought the Aveeno at CVS. You could probably find it at Wally World.

Yesterday was one wild and crazy day. The morning staff meeting ran two and a half hours. Thankfully, it was well-run and worth the time invested. Afterward, I got five of the six depo summaries done and the sixth one formatted. There are more reports from Attorney B in the queue. [Who decided that queue should be pronounced cue? When I was little, I thought it should be kwee-wee. Or cue-ee-oo-ee.]

There is little chance of my running out of work today, for which I am thankful.

Last night was the monthly singles’ temple night, where we band together to provide service to others. I was sitting in the inner foyer, waiting to enter the chapel, not-coincidentally seated next to the new guy. In walked NintendoMan.

He grinned. I grinned, then leaped up to give him a hug, then introduced my guys to one another. I was a bit of a space cadet for the rest of the evening. But at least I had no problem staying awake.

After NintendoMan went back to prepare for temple service, I leaned over and whispered to the new guy, “Now I have a greater appreciation for what you might feel when your petri dishes are talking to one another.”

He whispered back, “That’s [GreyhoundWoman’s] ex, right?”

“Yes, and mine as well.” Not that we were married, as they were for a quarter-century or more, but definitely one of my formerly typical bottle-rocket experiences.

And one of the other petri dishes serves in the temple on Wednesday night. I popped my head in and said hi, when I first got there. She is an amazing woman, very happy for me that I am now a temple worker, and said she wished that I was working Wednesdays, too.

Lots to think about on the drive home last night, and minimal difficulty remaining alert. Slept like a rock until just before my alarm would have gone off and have already finished the ribbing on a doll hat and worked the increase row.

Back to the temple tonight, woohoo!

Knitwit

Yesterday was an interesting day at work. I was able to stay busy most of the day, although at one point, after I had winnowed out my inbox, I was so desperate as to sign up on a link from the company’s wellness website. And read every article. Thankfully, things picked up shortly after that. I think it was the work equivalent of after the trial of your faith, come the blessings.

Knit Night was wonderful, as usual. I am very nearly done with the green thingie, which was much oohed and aahed over. I bought three balls of Noro sock yarn to make more doll hats, and I am itching to get started. They will not be church knitting, obviously. And I think I hammered out a useful-to-me inventory code for the finished hats, incorporating the doll size, the number of stitches cast on for the hat ribbing, the yarn used, and the colorway.

I still have no idea what I want to use for graphics, for the banner on my [future] Etsy site, the packaging, etc. I’ll let my subconscious chew away on that while I am typing what promises to be a somewhat complicated deposition summary [multiple plaintiffs; thankfully, no co-defendants] for Lawyer B.

I just did an assumed name search for what I thought might be a brilliant name for the Etsy shop. Somebody in Dallas County has a corporation by that name. Great minds. Plan B. Time for some consolatory knitting.

So, last night...

...I took ten cans of tomato soup over to Secondborn’s house. Along with my CPU, six doll hats, and four dolls. And the cheesecake that the new guy sent home with me on Saturday night.

I came home with fresh leftover cornbread *and* the USB port installed; when I left, Secondborn was photo-shopping stray hairs from the pictures of dolls-in-hats and dolls-wearing-jewelry.

It was Fambly. It was [not my] Home. It was BeliEvening. [Ergo, I was somewhat obedient.] And poor little Chutzpah was home alone, except for Dolly the Llama.



Well, mostly alone. She did have her new bear. I don’t have any hats her size, and it’s only fair that she has to stay home sometimes; she gets to go a lot more places than the big dolls, because she is so portable.



Secondborn got some amazing photos of the dolls. Not all of them will be the best choices for the Etsy shop. Some we will use to put together a banner for my doll blog. And eventually I’ll have her do one for the spinning blog.

So [obviously] the computer is back together, and tonight after Knit Night I will finish installing the new printer and maybe even get my iPod fired up.

I’m making a list of all the things I want to do and need to get before I open the Etsy shop. Rewritable CD’s for all the photos Secondborn will be taking. More yarn in different colorways. I need to decide on packaging. And I need to create enough inventory that joining the Fort Worth Etsy group and selling at one of the shows would be worthwhile, assuming that I would be able to sell on Saturday but not be required to be there on Sunday.

My attorney will be out of the office all day today and tomorrow, and most of Thursday. I will be standing by the door to the break room with a “Will Type for Food” sign.

Speaking of which [food], it’s time to pack my lunchbox and get ready to scoot on out the door.

Mamma Mia!

I didn’t know that Meryl Streep has a nice, clear singing voice. I shouldn’t have been surprised. And I didn’t know that Pierce Brosnan um, well, I give him full points for trying. I was all set to watch “The Quiet Man” after dinner last night, until the new guy said that he had “Mamma Mia!”

Sorry, Duke. I love you more than my luggage, but a musical will almost always outgun you.

In other surprising revelations, I learned that Darius Rucker, the country singer, is the same person as Hootie of Hootie and the Blowfish. Which would explain why I like “Come Back Song” as much as I’ve always liked “I Only Want to Be With You”.

Boggles. The. Mind. Almost as much as the fact that when I was listening to snippets of what the new guy’s oldest son was preparing to load onto his dad’s iPod, and I commented on how much I liked that second song, the new guy said, “Yeah, Darius Rucker is...” and I don’t remember what he said after that, because I was going “Butbutbutbutbut”.

It was a really good day. I drove at least 200 miles. [Felt like 500 on the last leg of the drive home.] I can still walk this morning, which is good because I need to sluice off very quickly and be out the door in a bit less than an hour. My friend the RS president asked if I could pick somebody up for church, which is certainly one way to make sure I’m there, on time, in my own ward.

I love Heaven’s sense of humor, even when it is aimed in my direction.

“Who was that masked (wo)man?”

“I don’t know, but (s)he left this silver bullet.”

I was in love with “The Lone Ranger” when I was a little girl. Clayton Moore was dashing and mysterious, but my heart secretly beat for Tonto. [I called him Jay-Yay Silverheels.] Oye, he started out as Harold Smith? That is just too funny: Trainman’s first name is also Harry.

*chortle*

I am going to have to be six kinds of superhero today. I need to leave for the temple in approximately two hours. Before that I need to do my grocery shopping, wash one quick load of laundry, eat breakfast, and make myself presentable. While remembering my temple bag, my insulated bag for the AWOL cheesecake slice that’s in the new guy’s freezer, my knitting bag, the Ubiquitous Red Bag, a snack for the dance tonight, a doll to take to my friend MizP’s house (for a size comparison with patterns for doll clothing which somebody gave her, which may come home with me) and to possibly leave at the new guy’s for MelMelChan to re-string (I made the second and final payment to Fourthborn for Honor yesterday). And my manners. And my marbles.

Wish me luck. My friend Tom is begging for brownies. Not even on the radar screen today, dreadful sorry, Clementine.

Those pre-fab posts were nice.

I could use another one this morning.

I had another great, productive day at work yesterday. I really enjoyed the novel sensation of being entirely rested. And of course it was lovely to be, and to serve, in the temple last night.

The sunrise yesterday, and the sunset last night, were both spectacular. Heaven’s paintbrushes have been very busy recently.

I’m not sure that I touched the teal green thingie yesterday, except to move it out of the way in my knitting bag. I hope to remedy that today. The little stripedy cowl is galloping along, because I can whip out a twelve-stitch row while stuck in traffic or sitting at a light.

Lawyer B brought me a report that needs to go out today, so that I could make a dent in it. I moved it to his outbox at 4:59 and ran a victory lap inside my head.

What? You don’t do that?

Today is all about hydration. I plan on drinking at least the recommended eight, 8oz glasses of water, just to play catch-up. And then some more for good measure. My poor hands are parched, cracking, and still red in a couple of spots where they bled yesterday. I woke up about 3:30 this morning and worked in four separate dabs of scented shea butter before going back to bed. I need to find a source for unscented (assuming it does not smell nasty in the wild) to use on my temple days. Shea butter seems to be the only thing that really soothes. I did put out an SOS on Facebook; I wonder if the responses will be as wildly varied as they were regarding that episode of hives?

Tonight is my monthly dinner with Brother Sushi. We are going back to Chop House Burgers, my nickel. And I need to stop of at the Nail Dude’s, because I have one nail that is fixin’ to fly.

OK, this is the part where I get ready for work, when I would much rather go back to bed. Good thing I love my job! It’s payday, and Lorelai wants more gas, so I think I will buy myself a nice mug of hot chocolate while I’m there.

Happy Friday, everybody!

Ten days of whatever. Day Ten.

Day Ten: One confession.

1. Religion works, for me. Even after 35 years, it’s hard for me to think of myself as a religious person, but by all conventional standards I most certainly am. I go to church every Sunday, health permitting. I strive to keep the Sabbath holy. I tithe, sometimes with greater faith in the promised blessings than at others. I repent (a lot).

Why? Because the Spirit has spoken truth to my heart, and because it is the only way of life that now makes sense to me. It has turned Sunday, formerly the longest and most boring day of the week, into a Sabbath which heals and cleanses and refreshes me from the inside out. It enables me to see the Creator’s love in every sunrise, in the chatter and play of squirrels, in the beautiful faces of my children and grandchildren and friends.

Knowing who I am, and Whose I am, gives me a feel for where I fit into the universe, and into His plan for happiness. It gives me a greater appreciation for my own gifts, and for the Giver, and it encourages and inspires me to use my talents to serve and bless others.



Another view of my new haircut. (The first picture is on Facebook.) I was laughing at something Firstborn said.

Ten days of whatever. Day Nine.

Day Nine: Two images that describe your life right now, and why.



1. Kaleidoscope: many facets, unexpected combinations, endless and evanescent beauty, colorful, fragmented, noisy when you shake it, only works when you aim it at the Light.



2. Line dance: orderly, rhythmic, cooperative, exhausting, episodic, achy-breaky, yeehaw!, ending up where you started, stay in your box please [and stay out of mine], les quatre coins de la terre (the four quarters of the earth).



And if this image is to be believed, maybe a little pixilated, metaphorically if not literally.

Great day yesterday. Much to-ing and fro-ing with Fourthborn, getting the legalities taken care of for our future respective businesses. I reactivated my Texas Sales Tax ID. She got hers. We had lunch at L&L Hawaiian Barbecue, browsed the really cool fabric store where I got the Dior grey silk for Faith’s outfit, and just generally had fun together. After I took her home, I went to Knit Night by way of Chop House Burgers, where I picked up a slice of pie for breakfast. Which I am now about to eat. Much progress on both knitting projects.

Tonight I’m getting my hair cut, and Secondborn emailed to say that the part has arrived for my computer. My dance card is full until Sunday night. 2BDH could come put it in tonight after Scouts, but I may already be asleep by then.

A girl can dream, right?

Ten days of whatever. Day Eight.

Day Eight: Three turn-ons.

1. torch songs [I have them; I just don’t listen to them (often) because there’s no sense being in the mood when I’m not authorized to share.]

2. the tango [I will know that I am really, truly a grownup when I learn how to dance this dance which requires that the woman have no opinion.]

3. Jeff Bridges in “Starman”; hence, one of my children [who just screamed “Mom, noooooo!” and dived under her computer desk]

I think this is going to be a pretty good day. I woke an hour or so ago with the hives from last night’s dinner mostly-gone. And some pretty creative solutions for stopping the itch, as comments on my Facebook post.

What’s on the agenda? Cleaning at the dentist’s. Helping Fourthborn with the legalities of setting up in business (sales tax permit, etc.) and maybe a field trip to the really cool fabric store if road conditions permit. Some of my outlying coworkers elected to take a vacation day yesterday. I haven’t checked on the roads yet, but they were OK when I drove to work and when I drove home again.

And of course there will be lots of lovely knitting. Starting now.

Ten days of whatever. Day Seven.

Day Seven: Four turn-offs.

1. Cigar smoke

2. Spitting on the sidewalk

3. Talk radio

4. The fight music from Dragon Warrior

And in that same spirit, some comments inspired by a friend’s blog post about the shooting in Arizona:

I was a child when President Kennedy was shot. I was a young mother when President Reagan was shot. I wept for both of them. The current state of American politics is frustrating (though still better than most or all other countries). I am not aware of any political party which truly represents what I believe.

I wish that more people, of all faiths, who hold themselves to the high standards which are required of those who attend the (LDS) temple, would quietly and civilly and decently run for office.

I dislike the liberal press and the conservative talk show hosts almost equally.

The way to effect change in government is through the ballot box, through thoughtful letters written to our elected representatives, and through prayer. Can you imagine the good which would happen in our country if we all prayed for one another? Consistently?

Naturally, since I do not watch the news or take the paper, I found out about this late Saturday night after reconnecting my computer to the outside world. Obviously, the people who did this are unfamiliar with, or have forgotten, the Golden Rule.

End of rant. I had a magical day yesterday. I was noodling around with my budget and let the time get away from me. Suddenly it was ten minutes to church, and I was still in my pajamas, unshowered. So I left a message on my RS president’s cell phone, and I called Firstborn to confirm that yes, they were meeting at 1:00 this year, and I went to church with them. And then I went back to their house and had leftover spaghetti and watched the fourth and fifth Harry Potter movies.

As the big project is too big and too bright for inconspicuous church knitting, I wound up some of my stash yarn and started my own version of the Kinetic Cowl in Claudia’s Fingering 55 (55% silk, 45% merino), colorway Desert Dusk. Twelve stitches per row on my four-inch size 4 birch DP’s. I will either knit until I have a few yards left so that I may do the chain-stitch join using one of my trusty crochet hooks, as the pattern specifies, or I will knit until it’s all gone, then get creative with a needlepoint yarn in a similar fiber blend from The French Knot.

Ten days of whatever. Day Six.

Day Six: Five people who mean a lot (in no order whatsoever)

1. (I have five daughters; that would be the obvious answer. But in the spirit of reaching beyond the obvious:) Winston Churchill

2. Queen Elizabeth the First

3. Queen Esther

4. Joseph Smith

5. My ninth-grade algebra teacher.

I am sort-of online again. The computer is plugged in until 2BDH gets the new part in the mail, which should be sometime next week. I do not want to think about what my Yahoo! mailbox looks like, but I am heading over there shortly to do a massive purge, and if I bob to the surface again before midnight, I will run out and get some celebratory ice cream at CVS.

I am knitting up the yarn which my sister sent me for Christmas. It is gorgeous stuff. I went to the bead store after a family birthday party yesterday, looking for half a dozen beads or whatnots to attach on the cast-on row where the colors change, but found nothing to my liking. These yarns are a color not found in nature.

I have an appointment with the hair magician whom Firstborn and Secondborn both recommended.

My attorney gave me a she walks on water in her spare time performance review (and gave me a printout of it). I went into his office, closed the door, and told him he was not supposed to make his secretary cry. He said his only fear now is that word will leak out how good I am, and they will take me away and give me to somebody else. I told him that would not happen without a fight on my part, too.

I got to dance with the new guy at the dance on Friday night.

Ten days of whatever. Day Five.

Day Five: Six things you wish you’d never done.

1. Gone out with a certain airman.

2. Turned away the first two sets of missionaries that came to the door when I was married to my first husband.

3. Not-filed a complaint with the EEOC against the man who interviewed me in Provo, when I was a student wife, when he asked when my husband and I planned to start our family.

4. Raced the next kid over during a spelling test in third grade. The teacher thought we were cheating, and I got an “F” on my test, and I had to tell my parents.

5. Eaten a Napoleon [sweet pastry] and chased it with a beer, back in my pre-LDS days. Both came up within fifteen minutes or so. Not fun.

6. Bitten my tongue quite so much, in my second marriage. I wish I had learned how to fight properly; i.e., respectfully and effectively.

Ten days of whatever. Day Four.

Day Four: Seven things that cross your mind a lot.

1. Am I going to remarry in this life?

2. Do I want to remarry in this life?

3. How bad are the utilities going to be this month?

4. I still have too much stuff.

5. Those dishes are not going to do themselves.

6. Is he thinking about me?

7. How many more rows can I knit before I fall asleep on the couch?


Random note: Staying up late on Wednesday night to deal with Mount Rushmore and rebellious technology, does not make for effectiveness at work, or reverent alertness at the temple, on Thursday.

Ten days of whatever. Day Three.

Day Three: Eight ways to win your heart.

1. Tell me the truth. Kindly, please, but tell me the truth.

2. Promise less; deliver more.

3. Dance with me.

4. Do your home teaching.

6. Drive politely.

7. Clear out a room for my studio. Or build me one. Or rent me one.

8. Honor your temple covenants.


FYI, my computer is in bits, elsewhere. I will be intermittently online until it is reassembled and back at home. Thankfully, there is knitting to soothe my internet-deprived nerves. If you need me, call or text.

Ten days of whatever. Day Two.

Day Two: Nine things about yourself.

1. I carry colors in my head. This is, supposedly, a gift rarer than perfect pitch. But I cannot force it. If I go to the store with the intent of matching something, unless I take the something along, my color sense will be skewed by the fluorescent lighting, and the result will be painful. But if I buy something because I find it beautiful, it will go with many things in my closet or in my home.

2. I love algebra, bookkeeping, and logic puzzles. I love online Sudoku. If Brother Fibonacci were here in this room, I would kiss him until his eyes crossed, assuming of course that there is no Sister Fibonacci who would object.

3. I used to think I was clumsy because I was forevermore stubbing my toes. It wasn’t until I had a mime class and had to lip-synch, with choreography, and watched the videotape, that I saw how beautifully I move when I am one with the music.

4. I wish I could grind my voice like some of the really good blues singers do. Maybe when I get my resurrected body, but for now I can no more do it, than I can turn cartwheels.

5. I have written what is possibly the world’s largest collection of p’d-off-wife poetry. All of it therapeutic, though I haven’t needed to read it in years, and some of it very, very good.

6. I went into the waters of baptism a Frank Church Democrat and came out a Goldwater Republican. It took me a couple of years to realize it, but it was the darnedest thing.

7. My surviving toenails embarrass me. They grow at odd angles on my feet, and one of them is rolled up like a Torah, and there is no point in getting eight nails painted when they would resemble tiny jacks scattered on the floor, rather than two rows of perfect pearls. I am a little jealous of my daughters’ normal, healthy toenails.

8. I really like my mouth. People pay good money to have lips like mine, and they’re the one part of me that time and gravity have not had their way with [much]. And I like the fact that, notwithstanding the adversities I have weathered, my mouth still turns up on both ends.

9. I am utterly stunned [gobsmacked!] at how not-anxious I am about the glacial pace of this dating experience with the new guy. It’s as if my comfort zone had been miraculously redesigned.

Ten days of whatever. Day One.

Stolen from the blogs of some of my offspring. I needed to wait until I could draft all the answers at once, because we see how well I did in posting the Twelve Days of Christmas.

Day One: Ten things you want to say to ten different people right now.
Day Two: Nine things about yourself.
Day Three: Eight ways to win your heart.
Day Four: Seven things that cross your mind a lot.
Day Five: Six things you wish you’d never done.
Day Six: Five people who mean a lot (in no order whatsoever)
Day Seven: Four turn-offs.
Day Eight: Three turn-ons.
Day Nine: Two images that describe your life right now, and why.
Day Ten: One confession.

Day One: Ten things you want to say to ten different people right now.

1. Yes, some people are wishing you well in your new relationship, but you’re still married, and therefore you do not have the right to be in a relationship, and anyone who is congratulating you on a relationship that is as wrongful as your still-husband’s with The Other Woman, does not understand how the universe works and/or does not have your best interests at heart.

2. Stop chasing Barbies. They only want you to pay for their plastic surgeries, and once their bodies have healed, they will take off with Kens. [No, I am not volunteering for the job; we would make one another crazy in record time. But somebody our age would be a step in the right direction.]

3. Why are you so cranky with most of your co-workers? What has happened in your life to incline you to suspect the worst of others, and to speak as if you had razor blade soup for breakfast every day?

4. Thank you for marrying a shattered woman, even though neither of us dreamed how badly I was broken, and for loving me, and forgiving me, and for asking if we could be friends again after two and a half decades. I know you wish the girls were yours. Sometimes I wish that, too.

5. Thank you for baptizing me into the church. You saved my life, and this road not-often-chosen has been and continues to be a marvelous adventure.

6. Because of you, I have read all of Shakespeare, learned to love classical music, had the courage to take voice lessons, learned to milk a goat, and [briefly] starved. I have a working knowledge of King Benjamin’s statement that “there must needs be an opposition in all things.” Thank you for our girls. There is a part of me that will always love you, but she does not get a vote.

7. Thank you for taking me out for Death by Chocolate after Dad died, and for loving me when I was so depressed that I could barely manage to brush my teeth. Thank you for holding my hand while the midwife stitched me up. Thank you for those nights with our nursing babies at the greeting card rack in the grocery store, when you and I were both so poor we couldn’t pay attention, and we read cards to one another until we were shaking so hard from suppressed laughter that we couldn’t stand upright.

8. Thank you, dear roommate, for saying, when the boy du jour recited his list of what he required in a wife, “So, if she’s perfect, why would she marry you?” And for making me crack up, even after all these years, when I sing one of our hymns that contains the last name of that boy, as I remember you cracking up while conducting it back in the singles ward [and not being able to look me in the eye for the rest of the hymn]. Good times.

9. My favorite Nintendo partner, ever. I miss the bickering and the bantering and the crazy chemistry. I cherish your honesty. You’re a far better man than you think you are. May you finally let go of your obsession with her, so you are free to love somebody who will respect you and love you back.

10. Thank you for praying me into the church. I am happy to have my grandchildren call me by the name by which I called you. I try to live up to your feisty example.

“The Lord My Pasture Will Prepare”

I cannot think that that lovely hymn was penned by a youngish person. Why not? “And all my silent, midnight hours defend.” I know that Middlest struggles with insomnia, but I like to think that it is chiefly an indignity foisted upon the middle-aged and the elderly. It was the closing hymn in sacrament meeting yesterday, and when we got to that line, it moved me to tears.

I am frequently awake at midnight, not because I am burning the candle at both ends, but because I have crashed earlier in the evening and, having gotten my allotted five hours of sleep, am officially done for several more hours.

I own a copy of Our Latter-Day Hymns: The Stories and The Messages, by Karen Lynn Davidson (ISBN 0-87579-137-9). On pages 136-137 she tells the story of this hymn. Addison published it in 1712, the year he was 40, which in those days would have made him an old man. The melody goes back to 1825 and was written by the then-director of the Imperial Russian Choir in St. Petersburg, Russia.

Over the weekend I got a notification on Facebook about this year’s DFW Fiber Fest 2011. Anne Hanson, one of my favorite knitbloggers, will be teaching. After my nap yesterday, I went to the website and discovered that her advanced lace knitting class, which would have been my only reason to attend, is already sold out. (Not that I would have registered for it on the Sabbath, but I am not [yet] above window-shopping online, on the Sabbath.)



Even experienced knitters are not always careful not to twist. I have since frogged this and cast on fewer stitches, on larger needles, and am past the point where I stopped before.

Heading back to bed now, having just put “Hope” or “Charity” on layaway. I will probably pay her off later this month, or early next month. Had she not been a limited edition, I would have simply saved up for her, but the sales window closes in six days. They do this on purpose...

When did that new year sneak in here?

I was up to my ears in finish-itis, so no posting on Friday or Saturday. But Lark’s shawlette is done and awaiting its rendezvous with my yoga mat, a pile of towels, and two boxes of pins. And the color below is reasonably close.



I used up 91% of the yarn, which leaves a ball of yarny goodness a little larger than a golf ball. It has gone into my gallon Ziploc bag with the other remnants of laceweight yarn, to be turned into something dollish in the future. That was my last conscious act, last night.

And my first conscious act, this morning, was to rendezvous with my umbrella swift and ball winder and turn six hanks of yarn into this:



What I am envisioning is something like the Noro cowl I made for Lark last Christmas, where I cast on from both ends of two balls, a quarter of the stitches with each end, and knitted until I ran out of yarn. This time I am thinking of casting on one-sixth of the stitches in each yarn and working in a spiral until something runs out, then binding off with one of the non-mohair yarns at the top.

Next step is to play with the color arrangement until I have a lively alternation that does not clump the three balls with nearly identical values all together. In terms of size, I think I have enough yarn that I can make the bottom edge come out nearly to my shoulders, and if I knit it on what are [for me] oversize needles, possibly the size 7 circ I just used for Lark’s shawlette, I will get a loopy, fluid fabric that drapes nicely about my neck and upper chest.

The actual yarn is much greener than what you see here, something like an electric version of the jade of the mid-1980’s. As usual, my sister batted this one clean out of the ballpark!

I mentioned getting two gift cards. One from a co-worker, with which I bought this organizer and rounded out my collection of crochet hooks:



And one from the new guy, with which I bought a miniature trunk ~



~ cool clasp, no? To hold doll clothes ~



~ which I bought from Fourthborn; she had me at petticoat. I will study it within an inch of its life and use it as a template to make similar petticoats for the other girls. Speaking of which, there’s a new kid in town:



Her name is Honor. As in “return with”. She’s the size between Celeste and Faith, and she is in serious need of restringing, but even all floppy she’s beautiful. I look forward to knitting a sweater for her, and that will have to wait until I finish Faith’s outfit. Which will have to wait until I do a quick pick-up in my studio now that all the Christmas creating and birthday creating is over.

But some of you do not come here for knitting news or doll news. Some of you want to know how it went at the dance on New Year’s Eve. Breathe easy, I’m ambling in that general direction.

First, some technology news. I bit the bullet and bought myself a new printer on Friday, only to find out after getting it mostly set up that it has the new-style cable to make it speak to my computer. Which is old-style, and has no USB ports. No, not one. So I had to email my printouts to myself and to Secondborn, and she printed them off for the dance, and I got my bulletin board decorated.

It occurred to me in the wee hours yesterday morning, while I was working on the short-rows on Lark’s shawlette, that no USB ports means my new iPod cannot speak to my computer, either. But 2BDH thinks he can rig something up.

The new printer is seriously cool: it prints, it faxes, it copies, and it scans. Or it will, once we solve that pesky connection problem. So I will be able to gather up all sorts of records and scan them and shred them, which is something I’ve wanted to do for a good long while.

OK, OK, the dance. I had a very good time. Saw a lot of people I don’t usually see at the dances, got to hug a lot of friends and visit and eat too much party food and yes, dance some too. Two members of the new stake presidency were there. One of the counselors gave a few opening remarks to welcome us. And later on the stake president and his wife graced us. That is not a snarky comment; they are two of my favorite people in this stake, even lovelier on the inside than they are on the outside, and they are truly a handsome couple.

Had several nice conversations with the new guy during the course of the evening; we sat at the same table but were both up and around, visiting and dancing, sometimes even with each other. There was only one other petri dish at the dance that night, but in his car on the drive over, were the ex-petri, the wannabe-petri, and the non-petri for whom there is no room at the lab table.

I will confess to feeling the merest smidgen of envy when he was dancing with the other petri dish, but I got up and asked a friend to dance, instead of sitting there feeling sorry for myself. He came charging up to the table a hair before midnight with a glass of sparkling cider for me, for the toast, apologizing for having been waylaid. And by that time I was long past my fifteen-second pity party, and we danced some more while waiting for breakfast to be served.

When he and his passengers were ready to leave, so I was I, and I played pilot-fish to get them back to the freeway more efficiently than they had arrived. [The online map lied. What can I say?] At which point I went north for home, and they went east, just sufficiently delayed to be held up by a really bad accident on Central Expressway for an hour and a quarter, when if they had been five minutes earlier they might well have been part of it.

And now it is 7:15, and I have church at 9:00 and no idea what I’m wearing, or what I’m taking for church knitting, so I had better go figure something out. I am really going to miss my Sunday morning naps this year.

Better.

We are standing alongside the fence to Glass Is Half Full Land. Knitting is not arguing with me. Computer and I behaved ourselves all day. Spent my gift cards after work. And the next row on the shawlette will be the second decrease row. Also, I did not have a nail in my tire yesterday, and getting them rotated cost me nothing, and that errand used up my last hour and a half of PT. Which I wish I had this morning, because I am going to have to scoot if I hope to be to work on time. I should be leaving now. But there is jalapeno cream soup spilled on the T-shirt I wore to work yesterday, not to mention the cherry pie filling from my leftovers at lunch, and I have a slice of sawdust pie from Chop House Burgers sitting in the fridge. Which almost makes up for the tic which has suddenly appeared in my forehead and causes horizontal ridges that make me resemble a geriatric Shar Pei.

No goo-goo eyes at Christmas dinner.

[No Goo Goo Dolls, either.] Nor any perceptible sulking, from either of us. We exchanged a few pleasantries. I kept my head bent over my knitting when I was not warbling with our girls.

Christmas cards are still staggering in. My front door is metal, and I have them plastered all over it with one magnet or another. This is one of those cases where a picture comes nowhere near a thousand words, so I will forbear, but the display makes me grin.

I just finished the last lace row before the decreases begin on Lark’s shawlette. I had to tink half a row last night at Knit Night. I don’t have trouble keeping to the pattern when I’m knitting at the office, but there’s a whole lot less OhLookShiny in the break room than there is at a table surrounded by fellow knitters.

Work has been intermittently frustrating this week. I’ve lost two documents in the process of saving them but in the middle of erasing the tape. [This is 99% operator error and 1% the system. Maybe not even that.] My attorney had to re-dictate a motion for summary judgment on Monday. Neither of us was happy about that, but I was apologetic, and he is ever the gentleman. Yesterday it was a small and simple transmittal letter, which I was able to reconstruct from a similar one on another case, with only one of us the wiser.

So I am changing my procedure for erasing tapes. I am going to try tossing them in a drawer, to reduce visual clutter, until the end of the day and then erasing them all in one five-minute purge while shutting down my computer.

Got my nails done last night, after work and before Knit Night, using the new genteel pink polish that my friend and I picked out last week. NailDude tells me that the *in* color for 2011 is going to be honeysuckle pink, which is almost exactly the color I chose, so I am at the leading edge of the curve. Fancy that!

In other maintenance news, I called to see if my hair magician was working last night, and she is no longer there. Which means that I am going to have to find a new hair magician. Before Friday night.

And on that note, I’ll bid you all a happy Wednesday.

Visible to the naked eye.

Not much of that sort of thing going on, Chez Ravelled. A row of lace, and then a little breather. And then another row of lace. Five more rows, and the decreases will begin on Lark’s shawlette.

When I left the office last night, I was in puttering mode. So I took my gift cards and went to JoAnn’s and Michael’s. Found two of the last three steel crochet hooks I was looking for and will probably pick up the last one tonight, when I’m in Arlington for Knit Night.

After the first JoAnn’s and before Michael’s and the second JoAnn’s, I stopped briefly at the Container Store and picked up another red document box for out here in tower bookcase in my living room. I divvied up the printer paper [pretty, seasonal paper vs. plain vanilla] and collected all the labels [printer-friendly or not] into one spot and sorted all of the envelopes and greeting cards.

It just occurred to me that one of these document boxes would be perfect for sorting my archived duplicate checks. Which, strictly speaking, are not archived at present, merely taking up space in several boxes in my studio and/or boudoir. I would like to be able to mine them for historical data before permanently disposing of them, and for what I want to accomplish, riffling through them twenty-five at a time would be more useful than looking up PDF’s on my bank’s website. [Once that task is accomplished, I could reuse the box for scrapbooking supplies.]

Yes, I know that eventually I need to make peace with Quicken or some other program, where sorting data is faster and easier than Samantha wiggling her nose and saving Darrin’s hide. I got stubborn when they (A) wanted me to pay for an upgrade and (B) stopped supporting the version I was using.

I wish I had bought some of the purple document boxes when the Container Store was still carrying them. I wonder if anybody else does? I have one purple magazine holder in the bookcase in the hall, holding my cooking magazines. I would like to have another one. And I think that document boxes would be a neat (literally) way to store my computer manuals and such, and my office supplies. This is what those two shelves look like now.



And



I am going to have to bite the bullet and buy a new printer next year. I bought this one sometime between June 2000 and April 2003. We were living in the formerly-elegant gated and portered apartments when I bought it, before we moved into the penultimate apartment [the one that was invaded by the 24/7 Mardi Gras denizens after Katrina]. I guess, technically speaking, I have gotten my money’s worth, and this printer doesn’t owe me anything.

If you came here looking for profundity, today might not be your day.

☺

Oops.

I’ve been saying that Lark’s shawlette is knitted from Malabrigo Lace. Wrong. It’s Manos del Uruguay Lace. When I went into Ravelry to set this project up, I discovered my mistake.

In other oopsness, the last beaded row is done. Comic note: I did not spill the small bowl containing the beads I had decanted, until the last working bead was on my crochet hook, and there were only about a dozen beads left in the bowl. I *think* I got them all swept up, but you are welcome to walk around barefoot and see if I'm right...

Next up are ten eight rows of a simple lace pattern, and then another ten rows with the first batch of decreases. At which point I will have worked 11,718 stitches. When those rows are done, we have 46 rows of short-rows remaining, and I think they will go pretty quickly. There is a decent chance that Lark’s shawlette will be done, or nearly done, by the end of the week. [You are not invited to speculate upon how long it will take me to block it.]

The surviving beads are put away. My crochet hooks are all in their new case, with spaces for the three steel hooks which I need to replace. And I have all the red hooks (which I have been patiently collecting over the past couple of years) that I am likely to need, all the way up to size K. I know they also make an N, and I think they make a P. But since you’ll rarely find me in the vicinity of a bulky yarn, I’m not mourning the lack of those two.

Today I go back to work. It’s been a lovely long weekend, with another one just ahead. I need to focus on the display I’ve promised to make for the New Year’s Eve dance on Friday night. It probably wouldn’t hurt for me to check my regular email for updates from the friend who is in charge.

Time to pack my bag for work and figure out what I want to wear. Part of me wants to sit on the couch all day and knit. More of me is ready to get back to the job I love. I think I got the proportion of people time and solitude just about right, this past weekend. I have started filling another bag with items to donate, and I’ve picked out the CD’s I want to listen to next.

Can’t wait to see how the day unfolds.