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.
About Me
- Lynn
- Eleven years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Retired, and mostly enjoying it. Still knitting. [Zen]tangling.again after a brief hiatus.
Tuesday, August 04, 2009
Monday, August 03, 2009
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.
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.
Sunday, August 02, 2009
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.
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.
Saturday, August 01, 2009
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.
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.
Friday, July 31, 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
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!
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
The Road Less Ravelled
I could have used a day less ravelled. Came back to work to find all sorts of small things I had done wrong the first time [over the past week or so; I must have been sicker and more distracted than I thought] and needed to do over. You may safely assume that crow was the entree at lunchtime.
I was reasonably useful to others, once I had unscrewed the inscrutable, and I have seldom been more glad to hit the door running at 5:00. Drove to Arlington and picked up Fourthborn when she got off work; we headed down to Firstborn’s for the birthday bash. A little pizza, a sliver of ice cream cake, a nice round of hugs, and we took off again a little after 7:00, because I was one tired cookie.
I am still not moderated on a doll site that I am chiefly interested in for patterns and the like. This makes me, shall I say, immoderately cranky. You have to do 40 posts in 25 days before you can access the marketplace, to prove you’re not a spambot. And you can’t do it in one fell swoop, either, it has to have at least the verisimilitude of genuine fascination with the site [not; how many posts can I read where people are having the vapors over the fact that their doll hasn’t shipped? Oh wait, that will be me in a few more weeks, if mine hasn’t.]
Yes, of course I am anticipating my own doll’s arrival, but it is not the chief object upon which I meditate. At least not for the moment.
I bound off the facing on the second front of Autumn Asters as my last conscious act, last night. The double YO seems to have done the trick as far as those buttonholes are concerned. I am not even going to try to get everything pinned out and blocked this morning. I am just going to ease into the day and focus on getting my trash and recycling out to the curb, and myself on the train in good time.
I may or may not be at Knit Night tonight. It will depend on how well things go at work today and on my general energy level. I feel ever so much better than I did at the end of last week, and I won’t have a free night until Saturday unless I take tonight off. And I want to see my friends.
My new PIN number came. I am now free to shop around the country! But for now, I am going to run the tub and run stuff out to the curb and try not to run myself any more Ravelled.
I was reasonably useful to others, once I had unscrewed the inscrutable, and I have seldom been more glad to hit the door running at 5:00. Drove to Arlington and picked up Fourthborn when she got off work; we headed down to Firstborn’s for the birthday bash. A little pizza, a sliver of ice cream cake, a nice round of hugs, and we took off again a little after 7:00, because I was one tired cookie.
I am still not moderated on a doll site that I am chiefly interested in for patterns and the like. This makes me, shall I say, immoderately cranky. You have to do 40 posts in 25 days before you can access the marketplace, to prove you’re not a spambot. And you can’t do it in one fell swoop, either, it has to have at least the verisimilitude of genuine fascination with the site [not; how many posts can I read where people are having the vapors over the fact that their doll hasn’t shipped? Oh wait, that will be me in a few more weeks, if mine hasn’t.]
Yes, of course I am anticipating my own doll’s arrival, but it is not the chief object upon which I meditate. At least not for the moment.
I bound off the facing on the second front of Autumn Asters as my last conscious act, last night. The double YO seems to have done the trick as far as those buttonholes are concerned. I am not even going to try to get everything pinned out and blocked this morning. I am just going to ease into the day and focus on getting my trash and recycling out to the curb, and myself on the train in good time.
I may or may not be at Knit Night tonight. It will depend on how well things go at work today and on my general energy level. I feel ever so much better than I did at the end of last week, and I won’t have a free night until Saturday unless I take tonight off. And I want to see my friends.
My new PIN number came. I am now free to shop around the country! But for now, I am going to run the tub and run stuff out to the curb and try not to run myself any more Ravelled.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Have you heard the one about...
...the minister, the priest, and the rabbi? Well, last night was even better. Dallas Stake hosted a fireside that turned out to be not just for the singles. This is the information that I received via email through the singles:
The Interfaith Council Meeting sponsored by the Dallas Texas Mission ... will be asking President Smith (Dallas Texas Mission President), a Rabbi, and a Moslem, what the Abrahamic Covenant means to them.
It was superb. We had people of all colors and faiths, including a Sikh gentleman in his distinctive turban. But mostly, we were People of the Book. I can’t wait to tell my Muslim friend when I get to my building this morning. You better believe that I put my name on their mailing list, because next time we are discussing Moses, and we will be meeting in a synagogue.
[Maybe there will be halvah for dessert?]
In knitting news, I added another inch or two on the scarf for my friend, thought a little about the facings on Autumn Asters, and resisted the temptation to think about Firstborn’s socks or doll sweaters. This morning I knitted the left facing, and il me plaît beaucoups [I like it big muches, as one of my girls used to say].
The right facing is protesting like a kid who doesn’t want to get up for early morning seminary. I think this might be the first, and only, design flaw in the pattern. The buttonholes, as viewed from the outside of the sweater, are horizontal: two stitches wide and one stitch high. The buttonholes on the facing are circular, formed by a YO [yarnover]; they are essentially one stitch wide and one stitch high. At this writing, I am about halfway along the purl row that stabilizes the YO’s. I think I will tink back and work a double YO, wherein I wrap the yarn twice around the needle and then drop one of the loops on the next row, to see if that sufficiently enlarges the hole without totally messing up the rest of the facing. It’s either that, or I work the bits between the buttonholes in sections for two rows before rejoining them, which to my way of thinking would be excessively fiddly.
There is fiddly, which I generally don’t mind [i.e., cables, bobbles, nupps], and then there is excessively fiddly [i.e., weaving in at least four more ends when I thought I was done with that nonsense].
My friend Joy asked at Knit Night last week why I hadn’t just knit the sweater in the round, using steeks, and then cut it apart after stabilizing the fabric alongside the to-be-cut edges. If I knit this again, that’s probably what I’ll do. I ain’t afraid of no steeks! But on this sweater, I have followed the pattern almost exactly, and the pattern says work it flat. Sometimes I’m a thinking knitter, and sometimes I am content to be a sheep.
Time to stop typing, gather up my stuff, and start getting ready for work. This is shaping up to be an I’m driving morning, and I can already see that there won’t be time to pin out and block the sweater before I go. Close, but no [bubblegum] cigar.
There is Nutella in my pantry, and there are whole-grain bagels in the fridge. Can life get better?
The Interfaith Council Meeting sponsored by the Dallas Texas Mission ... will be asking President Smith (Dallas Texas Mission President), a Rabbi, and a Moslem, what the Abrahamic Covenant means to them.
It was superb. We had people of all colors and faiths, including a Sikh gentleman in his distinctive turban. But mostly, we were People of the Book. I can’t wait to tell my Muslim friend when I get to my building this morning. You better believe that I put my name on their mailing list, because next time we are discussing Moses, and we will be meeting in a synagogue.
[Maybe there will be halvah for dessert?]
In knitting news, I added another inch or two on the scarf for my friend, thought a little about the facings on Autumn Asters, and resisted the temptation to think about Firstborn’s socks or doll sweaters. This morning I knitted the left facing, and il me plaît beaucoups [I like it big muches, as one of my girls used to say].
The right facing is protesting like a kid who doesn’t want to get up for early morning seminary. I think this might be the first, and only, design flaw in the pattern. The buttonholes, as viewed from the outside of the sweater, are horizontal: two stitches wide and one stitch high. The buttonholes on the facing are circular, formed by a YO [yarnover]; they are essentially one stitch wide and one stitch high. At this writing, I am about halfway along the purl row that stabilizes the YO’s. I think I will tink back and work a double YO, wherein I wrap the yarn twice around the needle and then drop one of the loops on the next row, to see if that sufficiently enlarges the hole without totally messing up the rest of the facing. It’s either that, or I work the bits between the buttonholes in sections for two rows before rejoining them, which to my way of thinking would be excessively fiddly.
There is fiddly, which I generally don’t mind [i.e., cables, bobbles, nupps], and then there is excessively fiddly [i.e., weaving in at least four more ends when I thought I was done with that nonsense].
My friend Joy asked at Knit Night last week why I hadn’t just knit the sweater in the round, using steeks, and then cut it apart after stabilizing the fabric alongside the to-be-cut edges. If I knit this again, that’s probably what I’ll do. I ain’t afraid of no steeks! But on this sweater, I have followed the pattern almost exactly, and the pattern says work it flat. Sometimes I’m a thinking knitter, and sometimes I am content to be a sheep.
Time to stop typing, gather up my stuff, and start getting ready for work. This is shaping up to be an I’m driving morning, and I can already see that there won’t be time to pin out and block the sweater before I go. Close, but no [bubblegum] cigar.
There is Nutella in my pantry, and there are whole-grain bagels in the fridge. Can life get better?
Sunday, July 26, 2009
I’m not buying it...
Or them, actually. Four salad plates and a serving platter, all of them 50% off. My office manager is winnowing her stock at her booth at Canton.
The colors and theme would do so nicely here in my duplex [which is spittin’ distance from the National Cowgirl Museum (no, they do not have any stuffed cowgirls, any more than Girl Scout Cookies are made with real Girl Scouts)]. But there is no room at theinn stable, Joe Bob.
Yesterday was a truly terrific day. I spent a good chunk of it getting to the Storehouse, serving at the Storehouse, and coming home from the Storehouse. They fed us lunch while we were there. All my “fronting” skills, learned while I worked as a stocker at the Container Store one Christmas season, came in handy. We worked with the welfare service missionaries who are assigned to the Storehouse, and the time just flew. I thought my feet and legs would be protesting mightily, but they are whistling “Dixie” this morning.
I did come home tired. I managed to keep myself awake by moving from one small task to the next, and I ran to the grocery store around sundown. I resisted a nap, because the sweater was pinned out on the bed. I didn’t get the facings knitted onto the fronts, so when it was time for bed, I just unpinned everything and told myself I would try again today, or tomorrow morning.
My new debit card came. Did I mention that I got a letter last weekend from my bank, saying that some of their customers’ debit cards had had suspicious activities, and they were issuing new cards to one and all as a precaution. Not a case of some twit(s) overseas hacking into the bank, which happened last year, but elsewhere in the pipeline. So I have had all kinds of money [relatively speaking] sitting in my account, and no convenient way to play with it. The silver lining is that it has kept me well within my budget and out of the drive-through at Taco Bueno. I’m sure my arteries are grateful.
Tomorrow I will notify the companies where my accounts are linked to my debit card. And then I will sit back and wait until the bank mails me my new PIN number.
It suddenly occurs to me to wonder [changing directions suddenly, hang onto something] that I have no idea how I am going to store/display doll clothes when they are not on the doll. Do they make hangers in that size? I had one of those big black trunks that held an [original] Barbie and a laughingly small portion of the clothing I made for mine. I might need to do something macramé-ish involving dowels and pretty cord, because I always did have a fondness for formals. [I will have to see if I can dig up pictures of me with various dates, my senior year. I made three formals and a semi-formal. Hog heaven.]
OK, time for me to do my impression of a grownup and start getting ready for church.
Happy birthday, BittyBubba! I saw them yesterday at the Storehouse; 2BDH was there to pick up a food order for somebody in their ward. How delightful to see them all walking up the sidewalk, and to give them hugs and kisses. BittyBubba read out every letter on my name tag: L-Y-N-N, and grinned at me.
BittyBit seemed a little confused to see me up at the Storehouse, rather than in her living room. Maybe this will prepare her for running into a teacher at the home center or post office. [I remember one summer after third grade, when my teacher brought her small son with her to Dad’s laundromat. I was old enough to understand that teachers did not stay at their desks 24/7, and young enough to still be thoroughly disoriented and shy.]
The colors and theme would do so nicely here in my duplex [which is spittin’ distance from the National Cowgirl Museum (no, they do not have any stuffed cowgirls, any more than Girl Scout Cookies are made with real Girl Scouts)]. But there is no room at the
Yesterday was a truly terrific day. I spent a good chunk of it getting to the Storehouse, serving at the Storehouse, and coming home from the Storehouse. They fed us lunch while we were there. All my “fronting” skills, learned while I worked as a stocker at the Container Store one Christmas season, came in handy. We worked with the welfare service missionaries who are assigned to the Storehouse, and the time just flew. I thought my feet and legs would be protesting mightily, but they are whistling “Dixie” this morning.
I did come home tired. I managed to keep myself awake by moving from one small task to the next, and I ran to the grocery store around sundown. I resisted a nap, because the sweater was pinned out on the bed. I didn’t get the facings knitted onto the fronts, so when it was time for bed, I just unpinned everything and told myself I would try again today, or tomorrow morning.
My new debit card came. Did I mention that I got a letter last weekend from my bank, saying that some of their customers’ debit cards had had suspicious activities, and they were issuing new cards to one and all as a precaution. Not a case of some twit(s) overseas hacking into the bank, which happened last year, but elsewhere in the pipeline. So I have had all kinds of money [relatively speaking] sitting in my account, and no convenient way to play with it. The silver lining is that it has kept me well within my budget and out of the drive-through at Taco Bueno. I’m sure my arteries are grateful.
Tomorrow I will notify the companies where my accounts are linked to my debit card. And then I will sit back and wait until the bank mails me my new PIN number.
It suddenly occurs to me to wonder [changing directions suddenly, hang onto something] that I have no idea how I am going to store/display doll clothes when they are not on the doll. Do they make hangers in that size? I had one of those big black trunks that held an [original] Barbie and a laughingly small portion of the clothing I made for mine. I might need to do something macramé-ish involving dowels and pretty cord, because I always did have a fondness for formals. [I will have to see if I can dig up pictures of me with various dates, my senior year. I made three formals and a semi-formal. Hog heaven.]
OK, time for me to do my impression of a grownup and start getting ready for church.
Happy birthday, BittyBubba! I saw them yesterday at the Storehouse; 2BDH was there to pick up a food order for somebody in their ward. How delightful to see them all walking up the sidewalk, and to give them hugs and kisses. BittyBubba read out every letter on my name tag: L-Y-N-N, and grinned at me.
BittyBit seemed a little confused to see me up at the Storehouse, rather than in her living room. Maybe this will prepare her for running into a teacher at the home center or post office. [I remember one summer after third grade, when my teacher brought her small son with her to Dad’s laundromat. I was old enough to understand that teachers did not stay at their desks 24/7, and young enough to still be thoroughly disoriented and shy.]
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Happiness is *not* a warm puppy.
Happiness is folding up one’s team-building shirt and leaving it at the office when one goes home early because one is (a) sick and (b) tired and also (c) sick and tired.
After eating my leftovers from Monday night’s dinner with Trainman, I felt infinitesimally better. After finding a nectarine bought who-knows-when and still miraculously in prime condition, and bringing it back to the keyboard to eat between words, I felt as if I might want to live.
You will note that the back, sleeves, and collar are pinned out. I remembered that I hadn’t yet attached the front facings, thankfully before I pinned them out and not afterward. I will take care of that small detail when I get home from the Bishop’s Storehouse this afternoon. I might be sleeping on the couch tonight.
Apologies for the funky color in this photo. Apparently when one has bright pink walls and red or pink towels on the bed, it makes one’s camera twitch.
I think the little yellow flower-headed pins were a good idea. They go into the mattress much more easily than do the T-pins. So glad that I no longer have a waterbed...
After eating my leftovers from Monday night’s dinner with Trainman, I felt infinitesimally better. After finding a nectarine bought who-knows-when and still miraculously in prime condition, and bringing it back to the keyboard to eat between words, I felt as if I might want to live.
- Happiness is a cold nectarine on a warm afternoon when I have spent all morning playing the Depends game.
- Happiness is being in my jammies at 1:15 on Pioneer Day and therefore exempt from sack races, taffy-pulling, and having to be polite.
- Happiness is being thankful that I was sufficiently disorganized that I missed the train and drove to work, so that I did not have to hang around my desk all day waiting for the first train out and pretending to be well.
- Happiness is a nap.
- Happiness is voicemail.
- Happiness is finding Lorelai right where I left her when I went out to the parking lot; maybe Thursday’s disappearance was her, not me.
- Happiness is stopping at Wal-Mart on the way into work and picking up a tape measure and two boxes of flower-headed pins [which may or may not be rustproof].
- Happiness is knowing that my knitting would be waiting patiently for me to wake up from my nap.
- Happiness is my CPAP.
- Happiness is my rolling chair.
- Happiness is reassurance from my doctor that the dizziness from the Corn Pad Episode will eventually pass.
- Happiness is a sweater pinned out for blocking.
You will note that the back, sleeves, and collar are pinned out. I remembered that I hadn’t yet attached the front facings, thankfully before I pinned them out and not afterward. I will take care of that small detail when I get home from the Bishop’s Storehouse this afternoon. I might be sleeping on the couch tonight.
Apologies for the funky color in this photo. Apparently when one has bright pink walls and red or pink towels on the bed, it makes one’s camera twitch.
I think the little yellow flower-headed pins were a good idea. They go into the mattress much more easily than do the T-pins. So glad that I no longer have a waterbed...
Friday, July 24, 2009
Holy Cow!
Better make that “Holy buffalo chips, Batman!” Here is Clara’s review of the door prize I won at Whirled Fibers’ grand opening earlier this month.
Sometimes I just love my inbox. Last night was one of those times. KnitPicks now makes their Gloss [70% merino, 30% silk] in DK and heavy worsted. For you knitting muggles, DK is short for double-knitting, though I have no idea why our British friends dubbed it that. It’s a little bigger than sport yarn and not as big as knitting worsted, which is what I grew up knitting. Heavy worsted is about Aran weight, a little bigger than worsted but smaller than bulky and super-bulky.
To put it in terms more of you can relate to, and guessing wildly since I don’t have the ladies all lined up here in my living room for your viewing pleasure:
Laceweight is Twiggy, or that Olsen twin.
Fingering yarn is Kate Moss or Heidi Klum.
Sport yarn is Sandra Bullock.
DK is Susan Sarandon.
Worsted is Catherine Zeta-Jones.
Aran is Kristin Chenoweth.
Bulky is Marilyn Monroe.
Super-bulky is Mae West.
Each of them lovely in her own way. [Your mileage may vary.]
I have a new iron. I bought it a few minutes after the oh-where-is-my-car adventure. I saw Lorelai when I stepped off the train at Richland Hills, but I was almost immediately swept up into theta-stage, designing a skirt for my doll or more precisely wondering how to tweak a pattern I saw on Knitty a couple of years ago. I walked down to where I usually park, and Lorelai wasn’t there. I looked back up the sidewalk. Multiple vacant spots, but no Lorelai. I walked farther down. No car. I walked back up to where I had stopped. She had not materialized. I was beginning to get worried, because the train had pulled out and nature was calling. [Rather in the mode of Minnie Pearl hollering HOW-DEE!!!] So I walked back up toward the platform, and I found Lorelai cuddling between two big, bad pickup trucks. The hussy!
Whenever something like this happens, I wonder if it signals the new normal. But I seem to have been perfectly lucid for the remainder of the evening, having ice cream with a friend from church, dashing through my email, getting things ready to make this morning’s departure a mite easier.
I was hoping to be able to say, “Behold Autumn Asters pinned out on my bed.” But my tape measure is still AWOL, and I probably need more T-pins. So I will be heading to Jo-Ann’s or Hobby Lobby after the stake Pioneer Day activity tonight. To which I will be late, because I am going to ride the train and have a nice visit with Trainman and some happy knitting, which I will need, because:
[cue the Music of Doom] I was not able to get to the laundromat to wash the infernal team-building shirt for work today. I may just pull it out of the hamper and swipe it with a damp washcloth where the banana ricocheted. Or I may wear something else and smile peacefully at the office manager. Either way, I will not be wearing that shirt on the train this morning. Or this evening. I will wear a nice blouse if the shirt absolutely has to go through the washer, or my dontcha shirt if the washcloth works.
It’s not like I have time to go to the laundromat every week. Or that I’m a 16-year-old parochial school student who has to wear a uniform or be expelled. Maybe it is time for some exquisitely civil disobedience.
Remind me to examine my forehead while washing my face: does it suddenly say Gandhi?
Sometimes I just love my inbox. Last night was one of those times. KnitPicks now makes their Gloss [70% merino, 30% silk] in DK and heavy worsted. For you knitting muggles, DK is short for double-knitting, though I have no idea why our British friends dubbed it that. It’s a little bigger than sport yarn and not as big as knitting worsted, which is what I grew up knitting. Heavy worsted is about Aran weight, a little bigger than worsted but smaller than bulky and super-bulky.
To put it in terms more of you can relate to, and guessing wildly since I don’t have the ladies all lined up here in my living room for your viewing pleasure:
Laceweight is Twiggy, or that Olsen twin.
Fingering yarn is Kate Moss or Heidi Klum.
Sport yarn is Sandra Bullock.
DK is Susan Sarandon.
Worsted is Catherine Zeta-Jones.
Aran is Kristin Chenoweth.
Bulky is Marilyn Monroe.
Super-bulky is Mae West.
Each of them lovely in her own way. [Your mileage may vary.]
I have a new iron. I bought it a few minutes after the oh-where-is-my-car adventure. I saw Lorelai when I stepped off the train at Richland Hills, but I was almost immediately swept up into theta-stage, designing a skirt for my doll or more precisely wondering how to tweak a pattern I saw on Knitty a couple of years ago. I walked down to where I usually park, and Lorelai wasn’t there. I looked back up the sidewalk. Multiple vacant spots, but no Lorelai. I walked farther down. No car. I walked back up to where I had stopped. She had not materialized. I was beginning to get worried, because the train had pulled out and nature was calling. [Rather in the mode of Minnie Pearl hollering HOW-DEE!!!] So I walked back up toward the platform, and I found Lorelai cuddling between two big, bad pickup trucks. The hussy!
Whenever something like this happens, I wonder if it signals the new normal. But I seem to have been perfectly lucid for the remainder of the evening, having ice cream with a friend from church, dashing through my email, getting things ready to make this morning’s departure a mite easier.
I was hoping to be able to say, “Behold Autumn Asters pinned out on my bed.” But my tape measure is still AWOL, and I probably need more T-pins. So I will be heading to Jo-Ann’s or Hobby Lobby after the stake Pioneer Day activity tonight. To which I will be late, because I am going to ride the train and have a nice visit with Trainman and some happy knitting, which I will need, because:
[cue the Music of Doom] I was not able to get to the laundromat to wash the infernal team-building shirt for work today. I may just pull it out of the hamper and swipe it with a damp washcloth where the banana ricocheted. Or I may wear something else and smile peacefully at the office manager. Either way, I will not be wearing that shirt on the train this morning. Or this evening. I will wear a nice blouse if the shirt absolutely has to go through the washer, or my dontcha shirt if the washcloth works.
It’s not like I have time to go to the laundromat every week. Or that I’m a 16-year-old parochial school student who has to wear a uniform or be expelled. Maybe it is time for some exquisitely civil disobedience.
Remind me to examine my forehead while washing my face: does it suddenly say Gandhi?
Thursday, July 23, 2009
*Well* nourished.
Take a look at this. This is the sort of thing I want to do for my doll: French hand-sewing or the feel of it, meticulously finished seams, oodles and oodles of details. This is like the best of the J. Peterman catalogue, scaled down to doll-size. And then take a look at this; yes, $237 for a ball gown, and just look at the workmanship. No, I wouldn’t buy it; that would pretty much pay for Arie or one of the goat-baby girls.
I finished knitting Autumn Asters while at the doctor’s office yesterday. Well, I do need to pick up the facings for the button band, but that shouldn’t take long at all.
What a delightful day, once I got to eat! The digital mammogram is considerably more comfortable than the previous ones I’ve had. And then I ran over to the bookstore and flipped through seven new knitting magazines, purchasing the summer issues of Verena and Knitter’s. I had my well-woman [no bone scan this time], and it looks as though I have officially achieved the ’Pause that refreshes. I say, give it another year to be sure and then bring on Brother Right. As my late mother-in-law used to say, “Trust in Allah. Trust in Allah, but keep your camel tied.”
After the poking and stabbing and nuking, I was ravenous. So I called Brother Sushi to see if he was at work or taking a day off [you don’t ask, you don’t get]. He was home and amazed that I had slipped my leash. We met up at Rockfish for some of their excellent cream of jalapeno soup. I had the lump crab salad, with every intention of eating only half of it and saving the rest for another meal.
Oops. I pretty much inhaled that salad. We sat and talked for a couple of hours, and then I drove over to Firstborn’s and hung out with her for about an hour and used her cellphone to call the IRS for a payoff on my 2008 taxes; I still haven’t received my coupons for that. I had to use her phone because mine cut me off halfway through voicemailhell, twice.
And then I drove over to Cheesecake Factory, had dessert and a lovely visit with Leslye, came home, fetched my RS notebook from the clerk’s office at church, and bought a dozen celebratory chocolate chip cookies at Braum’s to take to our presidency meeting. We don’t ordinarily have refreshments, but I wanted to share my delight at no longer being a stockholder in Fruitful & Multiply, Inc.
We had a good, productive meeting. Various VT companionships created or tweaked. What a lovely, joyful day!
Last but not least, happy birthday, Firstborn! I showed her Yarnissima’s Brainless sock pattern. She gave me the thumbs-up on it. I have frogged the purple ragg sock back to just before the end of the toe increases. Life is good!
I finished knitting Autumn Asters while at the doctor’s office yesterday. Well, I do need to pick up the facings for the button band, but that shouldn’t take long at all.
What a delightful day, once I got to eat! The digital mammogram is considerably more comfortable than the previous ones I’ve had. And then I ran over to the bookstore and flipped through seven new knitting magazines, purchasing the summer issues of Verena and Knitter’s. I had my well-woman [no bone scan this time], and it looks as though I have officially achieved the ’Pause that refreshes. I say, give it another year to be sure and then bring on Brother Right. As my late mother-in-law used to say, “Trust in Allah. Trust in Allah, but keep your camel tied.”
After the poking and stabbing and nuking, I was ravenous. So I called Brother Sushi to see if he was at work or taking a day off [you don’t ask, you don’t get]. He was home and amazed that I had slipped my leash. We met up at Rockfish for some of their excellent cream of jalapeno soup. I had the lump crab salad, with every intention of eating only half of it and saving the rest for another meal.
Oops. I pretty much inhaled that salad. We sat and talked for a couple of hours, and then I drove over to Firstborn’s and hung out with her for about an hour and used her cellphone to call the IRS for a payoff on my 2008 taxes; I still haven’t received my coupons for that. I had to use her phone because mine cut me off halfway through voicemailhell, twice.
And then I drove over to Cheesecake Factory, had dessert and a lovely visit with Leslye, came home, fetched my RS notebook from the clerk’s office at church, and bought a dozen celebratory chocolate chip cookies at Braum’s to take to our presidency meeting. We don’t ordinarily have refreshments, but I wanted to share my delight at no longer being a stockholder in Fruitful & Multiply, Inc.
We had a good, productive meeting. Various VT companionships created or tweaked. What a lovely, joyful day!
Last but not least, happy birthday, Firstborn! I showed her Yarnissima’s Brainless sock pattern. She gave me the thumbs-up on it. I have frogged the purple ragg sock back to just before the end of the toe increases. Life is good!
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
My Daughter, the Enabler
So I woke up to an email from Fourthborn, with links to commercially-made clothing for the doll she is giving me, and a request for input. Which I gave her, in detail. I really like the faces on the Dollmore dolls; they seem to be happier than a lot of the dolls I’ve seen on other sites. I also saw a red Victorian fainting couch [pictured with a custom doll which sells for $1300 ~ no, girls, I have not lost my mind; I want the couch, not the doll! If I won’t spend $325 on yarn for a sweater for me, rest assured that I am not going to spend over a thousand dollars on a toy!]. I did see another doll that I liked, which was far more reasonably priced. If she is still available when I get my bonus next year, I would consider getting her.
One of the Dollmore males, approximately 80cm high, actually has the little moons painted on his fingernails. His face didn’t do all that much for me [I was always way more into Barbie than Ken], but his hands were exquisitely fashioned. Now if they ever make a doll that looks like Sean Connery in his prime, I’m a gone goose, but the male dolls just aren’t masculine enough to suit me. I’m not fond of SNAGs [Sensitive New Age Guys] in real life; blessed if I’m going to pay $500+ for one that has to be dusted!
I am taking my body in for its yearly tune-up this morning and consoling myself with cheesecake and a visit with Leslye this afternoon. The mammography center has gone digital; it’s supposed to be considerably more comfortable. I have to do a return-and-report with my friends at work tomorrow.
Knit Night last night was wonderfully relaxing. I am within two inches of the last of the colorwork on the right front of Autumn Asters, and then a quick gallop to the top in the dark green. I will probably get that done before leaving for the mammo and bloodwork and bone scan, oh my! Had a good discussion with Monica last night about wet-blocking vs. steam-blocking the Malabrigo, and we came to the conclusion that steam-blocking will be better. Which means that I need to add “buy new iron” to today’s honey-do list.
I have enough KnitPicks Shadow leftover from MS3 to do the stitching-up, and probably enough to make a sweater or tunic for my doll. I was so pleased to learn last year that it is not only appropriate but sensible to stitch up one’s sweaters in a skinnier yarn than the sweater parts, to reduce bulk at the seams. The Sunrise Circle Jacket is [I think] the first project where I actually did it. Shadow is a lovely, smooth yarn, and I think a double strand will be just about perfect.
Must knit, must knit, to drown out the rumblings of my stomach. Mammo is at 8:00; well-woman is at 10:00. I’ve been up for an hour and a half, and my stomach thinks my throat’s been cut. But there will be cheesecake and good conversation this afternoon, and I’m about to guzzle as much water as I can hold, while the tub fills...
One of the Dollmore males, approximately 80cm high, actually has the little moons painted on his fingernails. His face didn’t do all that much for me [I was always way more into Barbie than Ken], but his hands were exquisitely fashioned. Now if they ever make a doll that looks like Sean Connery in his prime, I’m a gone goose, but the male dolls just aren’t masculine enough to suit me. I’m not fond of SNAGs [Sensitive New Age Guys] in real life; blessed if I’m going to pay $500+ for one that has to be dusted!
I am taking my body in for its yearly tune-up this morning and consoling myself with cheesecake and a visit with Leslye this afternoon. The mammography center has gone digital; it’s supposed to be considerably more comfortable. I have to do a return-and-report with my friends at work tomorrow.
Knit Night last night was wonderfully relaxing. I am within two inches of the last of the colorwork on the right front of Autumn Asters, and then a quick gallop to the top in the dark green. I will probably get that done before leaving for the mammo and bloodwork and bone scan, oh my! Had a good discussion with Monica last night about wet-blocking vs. steam-blocking the Malabrigo, and we came to the conclusion that steam-blocking will be better. Which means that I need to add “buy new iron” to today’s honey-do list.
I have enough KnitPicks Shadow leftover from MS3 to do the stitching-up, and probably enough to make a sweater or tunic for my doll. I was so pleased to learn last year that it is not only appropriate but sensible to stitch up one’s sweaters in a skinnier yarn than the sweater parts, to reduce bulk at the seams. The Sunrise Circle Jacket is [I think] the first project where I actually did it. Shadow is a lovely, smooth yarn, and I think a double strand will be just about perfect.
Must knit, must knit, to drown out the rumblings of my stomach. Mammo is at 8:00; well-woman is at 10:00. I’ve been up for an hour and a half, and my stomach thinks my throat’s been cut. But there will be cheesecake and good conversation this afternoon, and I’m about to guzzle as much water as I can hold, while the tub fills...
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Nourished.
I drank at least a pint of Cherry Coke yesterday. Yes, I’d gone to bed at 1:30, where I tossed and turned for an hour before getting up and finishing the left front on Autumn Asters. I went back to bed at 4:00 and dreamed that I was knitting. And then I got up at 5:00 and slogged through the day on the dregs of last Friday’s Cherry Coke and about half of a fresh 20-oz bottle, plus a little real food to keep things interesting.
Only in Texas would the weather be as it was when I got off the train yesterday. Just the finest mist coming down from a mostly-sunny sky.
As we rounded the south corner of the train station toward the bus stand, the mist increased in size and intensity. When the bus dropped us off a block from the office, my scalp was getting a fat raindrop roughly every ten seconds. It was not a good hair day, but it was a good day nonetheless. I was remarkably productive at work, and I spent an hour or so putting together the semi-annual self evaluation for my performance review and emailing it to the office manager.
More good stuff:
1. Trainman was on the same train.
2. Both of us were wearing pale yellow shirts; we were almost twinkies.
3. I had arrived at the station early enough to park under the freeway, so my car was deliciously cool when I got back.
4. We tried to eat at Nonna Tata, but they were closed. So we ate at Benito’s.
5. I have a ton of leftovers, enough for dinner tonight or tomorrow.
6. After dinner we went back to the station so I could pick up Lorelai, but also to meet LadyZen as she got off her train and give her hugs.
7. I am about an inch above the beginning of the armscye shaping, as we speak.
8. I was in bed by 9:30 last night.
9. I slept like a rock.
I should have allowed one less row between buttonholes while tweaking the front to allow for five buttons instead of four. I had to fudge the top buttonhole a mite, but the collar should make that less obvious.
I am torn between driving in so I could bring home the ergonomic keyboard one of my friends no longer needs on his home computer ~ it is definitely bigger than a breadbox, as the saying goes, and will not fit into my knitting bag ~ and riding the train so I can savor those two extra hours of knitting. Finish-itis is upon me, to the point where eating and sleeping are becoming a nuisance. Though strangely, I didn’t [much] miss my knitting while eating Mexican food with Trainman last night, but we had some catching-up to do after his week on vacation.
When I went to bed last night, I was seriously contemplating skipping Knit Night tonight in favor of coming home and going straight to bed. The jury’s still out on that one. I need my chicks-with-sticks time, and this respiratory yuck is sapping my energy. Trainman was honking, too. I am mostly coughing and hacking. The office manager called out mid-afternoon, “Lynn, is that you? Are you all right?”
“I’ll live.” At the moment that is more mission statement or pure wishing, than reality. I don’t feel as stuporous as I did last Friday, but I am still only functioning on about two and a half cylinders this morning. I need to buy more Puffs. And maybe while I am in Arlington tomorrow for the annual physical exams, I will stop off at the Chinese herbalist and pick up a fresh bottle of ba nguyen.
When we are going to be out of the office, we are supposed to notify our team, in writing, two days in advance. This is what I sent out yesterday:
I will be out all day Wednesday for my annual physical. I will be back on Thursday, unless I cough during my EKG and they send me over for a stress test and I get the same incredibly handsome tech I had the last time that happened, in which case I may be calling you from the Chapel of the Chimes.
[Just wanted to see if any of you actually read these.]
Sometime this week I need to wash that infernal team-building T-shirt; I got banana on it last Friday. [Oh man, when stuff like that makes it into a draft, I know it’s time to hit publish and go do something else.] Mmm, knitting...
Only in Texas would the weather be as it was when I got off the train yesterday. Just the finest mist coming down from a mostly-sunny sky.
As we rounded the south corner of the train station toward the bus stand, the mist increased in size and intensity. When the bus dropped us off a block from the office, my scalp was getting a fat raindrop roughly every ten seconds. It was not a good hair day, but it was a good day nonetheless. I was remarkably productive at work, and I spent an hour or so putting together the semi-annual self evaluation for my performance review and emailing it to the office manager.
More good stuff:
1. Trainman was on the same train.
2. Both of us were wearing pale yellow shirts; we were almost twinkies.
3. I had arrived at the station early enough to park under the freeway, so my car was deliciously cool when I got back.
4. We tried to eat at Nonna Tata, but they were closed. So we ate at Benito’s.
5. I have a ton of leftovers, enough for dinner tonight or tomorrow.
6. After dinner we went back to the station so I could pick up Lorelai, but also to meet LadyZen as she got off her train and give her hugs.
7. I am about an inch above the beginning of the armscye shaping, as we speak.
8. I was in bed by 9:30 last night.
9. I slept like a rock.
I should have allowed one less row between buttonholes while tweaking the front to allow for five buttons instead of four. I had to fudge the top buttonhole a mite, but the collar should make that less obvious.
I am torn between driving in so I could bring home the ergonomic keyboard one of my friends no longer needs on his home computer ~ it is definitely bigger than a breadbox, as the saying goes, and will not fit into my knitting bag ~ and riding the train so I can savor those two extra hours of knitting. Finish-itis is upon me, to the point where eating and sleeping are becoming a nuisance. Though strangely, I didn’t [much] miss my knitting while eating Mexican food with Trainman last night, but we had some catching-up to do after his week on vacation.
When I went to bed last night, I was seriously contemplating skipping Knit Night tonight in favor of coming home and going straight to bed. The jury’s still out on that one. I need my chicks-with-sticks time, and this respiratory yuck is sapping my energy. Trainman was honking, too. I am mostly coughing and hacking. The office manager called out mid-afternoon, “Lynn, is that you? Are you all right?”
“I’ll live.” At the moment that is more mission statement or pure wishing, than reality. I don’t feel as stuporous as I did last Friday, but I am still only functioning on about two and a half cylinders this morning. I need to buy more Puffs. And maybe while I am in Arlington tomorrow for the annual physical exams, I will stop off at the Chinese herbalist and pick up a fresh bottle of ba nguyen.
When we are going to be out of the office, we are supposed to notify our team, in writing, two days in advance. This is what I sent out yesterday:
I will be out all day Wednesday for my annual physical. I will be back on Thursday, unless I cough during my EKG and they send me over for a stress test and I get the same incredibly handsome tech I had the last time that happened, in which case I may be calling you from the Chapel of the Chimes.
[Just wanted to see if any of you actually read these.]
Sometime this week I need to wash that infernal team-building T-shirt; I got banana on it last Friday. [Oh man, when stuff like that makes it into a draft, I know it’s time to hit publish and go do something else.] Mmm, knitting...
Monday, July 20, 2009
I Am My Sister’s [Ruler’s] Keeper.
I don’t know why this has survived so many moves, when most of my family mementos have not.
I wonder if it was once the bland beige of new rulers at the office supply store, before decades of handling brought it to this lovely warm brown?
I downloaded KnitPicks’ free Classic Lines Cardigan pattern Saturday night. It will be waiting in the queue until I finish a fewdozen other projects. I like it as designed. And I think it might be a good way to use up the Alpaca Cloud that I regret buying, as the accent yarn in place of the Shimmer. The pattern requires two hanks of accent yarn; I have three. But the golden question is, do I use the Shadow, which I already know that I love, or do I go with Gloss Lace in a compatible color? I really want to work something up in the new Gloss Lace “Kiss” colorway. It’s a very sassy pink. Maybe I will have to make two of these: one in hot pinks using the Shimmer as accent, and one that is closely-toned in greens. I could tweak the shaping on one of them so I could have a similar fabric but not two essentially identical sweaters.
Stop just a minute and go read my friend Alison’s post. I’ll wait. You need it for background on what I’m about to post next; otherwise I am going to sound like the Pharisee announcing her righteousness on the street corner (Luke 18:11) while the widow casts her mite into the temple treasury. (Mark 12:42-43)
Thursday I drove in to work. On the way home I stopped at Taco Cabana, where I usually get a chicken fajita quesadilla. Light, tasty, and eminently affordable. But Thursday night I found myself ordering two burritos and being dismayed when they were huge and rather floppy. Too much food for the appetite I had, and too messy to eat while finishing the drive home. I pulled up to the light and saw a man with a sign that proclaimed “hungry”. I handed him the bag with a smile as he blessed me and said that Taco Cabana was his favorite.
I share this not so that you will think I am some wonderful, ethereally perfect creature. We know better. What I want to share is what Alison shared, the joy of being in the right place at the right time to do the small thing that matters only to perhaps one other person, and to Heaven.
I fell in love after church on Sunday. I stayed behind in case the bishop needed to talk with me, and when I came out of his office there was a woman sitting in one of the chairs. She was visiting her daughter in the other ward, and she has lived in San Antonio for many years and knows our friends from the Fredericksburg ward. She was born in eastern Europe and is probably about my sister’s age. Her English is flawless and enchantingly accented, and she has served twice as Relief Society president. [She told me that a woman who was very kind to me when we lived in Fredericksburg, has served as the stake Relief Society president in that stake; I am not in the least surprised.] And I think I must have known this sister well before we came to Earth, because there was that sense of coming home as we spoke.
She told me how much she had loved serving her ward in her calling, and that the thing she missed most was knowing, often without words, how the sisters were doing. I am coming to understand exactly what she was talking about. I spent Sunday School out in the hall, talking to sisters who were not comfortable being in class. And just before Relief Society began, I caught one of them trying to slip quietly out the door, and I put my arm around her shoulder with a “We need you in class” and a smile, herding her into the Relief Society room. She gave me a sheepish grin.
[Perhaps I will be able to get them into Gospel Doctrine class next week; I miss it when I’m not there.] I am still feeling my way in this calling. Bishop needed to correct me on something a few days ago, but he did it gently and privately. I may have put my foot in it again, today, but at least it was a different (possible) mistake. Like Anne of Green Gables, I do try not to make the same one twice.
My days and nights were all turned around this weekend. This comes of spending Saturday on the couch, knitting and listening to movies, except when I dashed out to do the drive-by fooding of the elders. It was nearly 3:00 when I got home from church, and I ate a little something and went to bed and slept for four hours. I set the alarm last week and got a decent nap without disrupting my sleep pattern. I really should have done that yesterday as well. Now it is 1:22am, and the alarm will go off in three and a half hours. Part of me wants another nap, and part of me wants to stay up and finish the left front of Autumn Asters. I am done with the armscye shaping and have (I think) four or five decreases left on the V-neck before doing the shoulder shaping.
This is madness; I think the sister’s keeper, needs a keeper.
I wonder if it was once the bland beige of new rulers at the office supply store, before decades of handling brought it to this lovely warm brown?
I downloaded KnitPicks’ free Classic Lines Cardigan pattern Saturday night. It will be waiting in the queue until I finish a few
Stop just a minute and go read my friend Alison’s post. I’ll wait. You need it for background on what I’m about to post next; otherwise I am going to sound like the Pharisee announcing her righteousness on the street corner (Luke 18:11) while the widow casts her mite into the temple treasury. (Mark 12:42-43)
Thursday I drove in to work. On the way home I stopped at Taco Cabana, where I usually get a chicken fajita quesadilla. Light, tasty, and eminently affordable. But Thursday night I found myself ordering two burritos and being dismayed when they were huge and rather floppy. Too much food for the appetite I had, and too messy to eat while finishing the drive home. I pulled up to the light and saw a man with a sign that proclaimed “hungry”. I handed him the bag with a smile as he blessed me and said that Taco Cabana was his favorite.
I share this not so that you will think I am some wonderful, ethereally perfect creature. We know better. What I want to share is what Alison shared, the joy of being in the right place at the right time to do the small thing that matters only to perhaps one other person, and to Heaven.
I fell in love after church on Sunday. I stayed behind in case the bishop needed to talk with me, and when I came out of his office there was a woman sitting in one of the chairs. She was visiting her daughter in the other ward, and she has lived in San Antonio for many years and knows our friends from the Fredericksburg ward. She was born in eastern Europe and is probably about my sister’s age. Her English is flawless and enchantingly accented, and she has served twice as Relief Society president. [She told me that a woman who was very kind to me when we lived in Fredericksburg, has served as the stake Relief Society president in that stake; I am not in the least surprised.] And I think I must have known this sister well before we came to Earth, because there was that sense of coming home as we spoke.
She told me how much she had loved serving her ward in her calling, and that the thing she missed most was knowing, often without words, how the sisters were doing. I am coming to understand exactly what she was talking about. I spent Sunday School out in the hall, talking to sisters who were not comfortable being in class. And just before Relief Society began, I caught one of them trying to slip quietly out the door, and I put my arm around her shoulder with a “We need you in class” and a smile, herding her into the Relief Society room. She gave me a sheepish grin.
[Perhaps I will be able to get them into Gospel Doctrine class next week; I miss it when I’m not there.] I am still feeling my way in this calling. Bishop needed to correct me on something a few days ago, but he did it gently and privately. I may have put my foot in it again, today, but at least it was a different (possible) mistake. Like Anne of Green Gables, I do try not to make the same one twice.
My days and nights were all turned around this weekend. This comes of spending Saturday on the couch, knitting and listening to movies, except when I dashed out to do the drive-by fooding of the elders. It was nearly 3:00 when I got home from church, and I ate a little something and went to bed and slept for four hours. I set the alarm last week and got a decent nap without disrupting my sleep pattern. I really should have done that yesterday as well. Now it is 1:22am, and the alarm will go off in three and a half hours. Part of me wants another nap, and part of me wants to stay up and finish the left front of Autumn Asters. I am done with the armscye shaping and have (I think) four or five decreases left on the V-neck before doing the shoulder shaping.
This is madness; I think the sister’s keeper, needs a keeper.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Yesterday was brutal.
I started this post at work yesterday, between phone calls and incoming faxes.
You know how I always say that it’s better to have a headache than to be a headache? I may have changed my mind. It feels like there is an elephant sitting between my right nostril and my right eye. An elephant with the hiccups. An increasingly unhappy elephant who is contemplating the example of Lizzie Borden while casting about for the nearest axe.
I am most devoutly hopeful that the elephant’s name is not “Sinus Infection”.
I am probably allergic to this team-building T-shirt. I am definitely not allergic to the concept of team-building. I am rather fond of my team, in fact of all the teams that I am on: the admin team, the support staff team, the Relief Society team, the women of a certain age team, the mom team, the Gram team, the type like the wind team, the wearer of ridiculous T-shirts so as not to incur the wrath of the person who bought it team.
Later in the afternoon, maybe around 3:00, it dawned on me that I was feeling significantly better. [Dad would have laughed and called it Sundown Fever.] And I decided that maybe the elephant behind my face might be named “Resentment”. Yes, I woke up with significant congestion; yes, it got worse during the day. I have been speaking with my 1-900 voice for the past several days, the one that makes plaintiff lawyers become civil [a little lawyerly pun there; we practice civil law, and some plaintiff attorneys forget that]. But I really, really did not want to be up there answering the phone, and there was nobody else to do it. I felt stuporous and slow for most of the day.
I was thinking at one point that I would need to call the elders to tell them there would be no drive-by fooding tonight, and call my counselors to ask them to handle Relief Society tomorrow, and call the bishop to tell him I would be MIA. And just stay in my jammies all weekend and drink chicken stock and hot lemonade and try to get myself properly oxygenated. I was even thinking of canceling dinner with Brother Sushi last night. That’s how bad I felt. But we were both in the mood for spicy food [and I thought it would help me feel better], so I picked him up and we went to Nelda’s. He tried a different combo; it looked nice, but I couldn’t smell it. I tweaked my usual enchilada plate, going for two rather than three [so I could have dessert] and having them substitute salsa verde for the crema sauce on my spinach enchilada. I always have a sour cream chicken enchilada; theirs are superb.
The first bite of salsa verde just about took the roof off my mouth, but after a couple more bites everything went pleasantly numb and tingly. And I was able to taste most of my dinner, and dessert? Oh. Amazing.
I am a flan fan. This was, bar none, the best I have ever tasted. I think they used pure cream to make it, and it took me at least half an hour to eat it, listening to Brother Sushi’s stories [always as good as the food] and nodding and smiling. He said he could watch the relaxation slide down my face as I ate. Dinner de-stressed me from the hairline to about my eyes. That first bite of flan dropped the line about an inch. And I could feel it from within.
I was so chilled when I dropped him off that I didn’t have the oomph to get out of the car and hug him goodnight. So I popped my hand out the window, and we bumped fists. I just b-a-r-e-l-y made it home awake. Came in and put on my jammies and skimmed my inbox and was in bed by 10:00.
Life is looking a lot better this morning. I woke a hair before 5:00, and I can mostly breathe. I think a mug of broth is called for, and I think horseradish potatoes are not out of the question for later today. I just want things I can taste.
I have already watched Shall We Dance and put two inches, the first bit of waist shaping, and another buttonhole on the sweater fronts. I have eaten a clementine, and I think I will make a pan of pigs in blankets while it’s still relatively cool outside. I can always have a bowl of cereal for lunch, or I can pick up a bowl of orange chicken and an egg roll with Chinese mustard if I go out to get more paint-stirring sticks and a couple of organizing boxes.
I am toying with the idea of painting half the hall today, all the bits that are visible from the living room and the wall with the bathroom door in it. And then next weekend, or maybe tomorrow after church, I could paint the bookcase wall.
I got up on the bed yesterday before work and tightened the light bulbs in the ceiling fan. I was down to one that functioned consistently; the others had loosened enough that they might as well not have been there. Now my room is so bright that I see a few spots I missed while painting last month.
I am incredibly hungry now and I want to knit. Decisions, decisions.
You know how I always say that it’s better to have a headache than to be a headache? I may have changed my mind. It feels like there is an elephant sitting between my right nostril and my right eye. An elephant with the hiccups. An increasingly unhappy elephant who is contemplating the example of Lizzie Borden while casting about for the nearest axe.
I am most devoutly hopeful that the elephant’s name is not “Sinus Infection”.
I am probably allergic to this team-building T-shirt. I am definitely not allergic to the concept of team-building. I am rather fond of my team, in fact of all the teams that I am on: the admin team, the support staff team, the Relief Society team, the women of a certain age team, the mom team, the Gram team, the type like the wind team, the wearer of ridiculous T-shirts so as not to incur the wrath of the person who bought it team.
Later in the afternoon, maybe around 3:00, it dawned on me that I was feeling significantly better. [Dad would have laughed and called it Sundown Fever.] And I decided that maybe the elephant behind my face might be named “Resentment”. Yes, I woke up with significant congestion; yes, it got worse during the day. I have been speaking with my 1-900 voice for the past several days, the one that makes plaintiff lawyers become civil [a little lawyerly pun there; we practice civil law, and some plaintiff attorneys forget that]. But I really, really did not want to be up there answering the phone, and there was nobody else to do it. I felt stuporous and slow for most of the day.
I was thinking at one point that I would need to call the elders to tell them there would be no drive-by fooding tonight, and call my counselors to ask them to handle Relief Society tomorrow, and call the bishop to tell him I would be MIA. And just stay in my jammies all weekend and drink chicken stock and hot lemonade and try to get myself properly oxygenated. I was even thinking of canceling dinner with Brother Sushi last night. That’s how bad I felt. But we were both in the mood for spicy food [and I thought it would help me feel better], so I picked him up and we went to Nelda’s. He tried a different combo; it looked nice, but I couldn’t smell it. I tweaked my usual enchilada plate, going for two rather than three [so I could have dessert] and having them substitute salsa verde for the crema sauce on my spinach enchilada. I always have a sour cream chicken enchilada; theirs are superb.
The first bite of salsa verde just about took the roof off my mouth, but after a couple more bites everything went pleasantly numb and tingly. And I was able to taste most of my dinner, and dessert? Oh. Amazing.
I am a flan fan. This was, bar none, the best I have ever tasted. I think they used pure cream to make it, and it took me at least half an hour to eat it, listening to Brother Sushi’s stories [always as good as the food] and nodding and smiling. He said he could watch the relaxation slide down my face as I ate. Dinner de-stressed me from the hairline to about my eyes. That first bite of flan dropped the line about an inch. And I could feel it from within.
I was so chilled when I dropped him off that I didn’t have the oomph to get out of the car and hug him goodnight. So I popped my hand out the window, and we bumped fists. I just b-a-r-e-l-y made it home awake. Came in and put on my jammies and skimmed my inbox and was in bed by 10:00.
Life is looking a lot better this morning. I woke a hair before 5:00, and I can mostly breathe. I think a mug of broth is called for, and I think horseradish potatoes are not out of the question for later today. I just want things I can taste.
I have already watched Shall We Dance and put two inches, the first bit of waist shaping, and another buttonhole on the sweater fronts. I have eaten a clementine, and I think I will make a pan of pigs in blankets while it’s still relatively cool outside. I can always have a bowl of cereal for lunch, or I can pick up a bowl of orange chicken and an egg roll with Chinese mustard if I go out to get more paint-stirring sticks and a couple of organizing boxes.
I am toying with the idea of painting half the hall today, all the bits that are visible from the living room and the wall with the bathroom door in it. And then next weekend, or maybe tomorrow after church, I could paint the bookcase wall.
I got up on the bed yesterday before work and tightened the light bulbs in the ceiling fan. I was down to one that functioned consistently; the others had loosened enough that they might as well not have been there. Now my room is so bright that I see a few spots I missed while painting last month.
I am incredibly hungry now and I want to knit. Decisions, decisions.
Friday, July 17, 2009
If you’re looking for brilliance today...
... you might want to head on over to the next blog. It is not yet 6:30, the tub is filling, and I am ready for the weekend.
My new VT companion and I went out visiting for the first time last night. New sister in the ward, married, two sweet little kids. Upstairs. Possibly the longest flight of stairs I have climbed in a decade, but well worth the climb. The kids were shy at first; she’s 3, he will be 2 in a couple of months. When she was ready, she walked up to me, wrapped her arms around me, and laid her head against my chest. He followed suit before the end of the visit. Those kids are so smart! They figured out that I am a hugging-grandma and that my companion is a playing-aunt. She’s the one who ended up with all the toys in her lap. We were both very happy with that arrangement.
Afterward, I took my companion home, and I threw the laundry into the back seat of Lorelai. On the way home, I stopped for a late dinner of party tacos and strawberry smoothie, then went to bed. I left the folding and putting-away for this morning.
And of course, this morning I realized that my very clean new bras were still very damp, because they had spent the night in the hamper underneath my linen tunic, which also doesn’t go into the dryer. All are now hanging from the shower rod. Thankfully, I had not yet thrown out the painting bra [the one with the dead underwire, the one that I wear when I’m washing the good ones], and thankfully today is the day that we wear our black T-shirts to work in a display of Customer Service Initiative solidarity. So any discrepancies in the workings of gravity upon this middle-aged body will be somewhat camouflaged.
I hope.
That’s it, guys. I have just spent the past hour doing the folding and stowing that I was too pooped to do last night, and the tub is full, and I have about a ten minute window if I want to make the train from T&P Station. I will be sitting at switchboard all day. So I am already looking forward to 5:00 and the train ride home and the postponed dinner tonight with Brother Sushi.
There are plenty of things I am thankful for, but at the moment my brain doesn’t want to talk to my hands. I sure hope this changes by the time I pull my knitting out of my bag!
My new VT companion and I went out visiting for the first time last night. New sister in the ward, married, two sweet little kids. Upstairs. Possibly the longest flight of stairs I have climbed in a decade, but well worth the climb. The kids were shy at first; she’s 3, he will be 2 in a couple of months. When she was ready, she walked up to me, wrapped her arms around me, and laid her head against my chest. He followed suit before the end of the visit. Those kids are so smart! They figured out that I am a hugging-grandma and that my companion is a playing-aunt. She’s the one who ended up with all the toys in her lap. We were both very happy with that arrangement.
Afterward, I took my companion home, and I threw the laundry into the back seat of Lorelai. On the way home, I stopped for a late dinner of party tacos and strawberry smoothie, then went to bed. I left the folding and putting-away for this morning.
And of course, this morning I realized that my very clean new bras were still very damp, because they had spent the night in the hamper underneath my linen tunic, which also doesn’t go into the dryer. All are now hanging from the shower rod. Thankfully, I had not yet thrown out the painting bra [the one with the dead underwire, the one that I wear when I’m washing the good ones], and thankfully today is the day that we wear our black T-shirts to work in a display of Customer Service Initiative solidarity. So any discrepancies in the workings of gravity upon this middle-aged body will be somewhat camouflaged.
I hope.
That’s it, guys. I have just spent the past hour doing the folding and stowing that I was too pooped to do last night, and the tub is full, and I have about a ten minute window if I want to make the train from T&P Station. I will be sitting at switchboard all day. So I am already looking forward to 5:00 and the train ride home and the postponed dinner tonight with Brother Sushi.
There are plenty of things I am thankful for, but at the moment my brain doesn’t want to talk to my hands. I sure hope this changes by the time I pull my knitting out of my bag!
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Yarnfidelity
The lust you feel when you open the catalogue and see a new colorway in a favorite yarn. No matter that you already have four projects on your needles. There is no known antidote. Even flagellating yourself with a rolled-up budget spreadsheet only takes the fever down a notch or two.
My solution is to keep the catalogue on my reading shelf in the loo, far away from the keyboard, the phone, and the debit card.
Today would have been Dad’s 104th birthday. He died 19 years ago last month. I wonder if there is birthday cake in Heaven, a brief celebration to mark a life well-lived, in the midst of all he is doing to build the Kingdom and bless this family from the other side of the veil. Middlest shared with me, when we were talking quietly one night, some of the things he did for her when she was a small child, after his passing. They are her stories, and they are sacred, so I will not share them here. But I know by the witness of the Spirit that they are true, and not idle fancies or vain imaginings.
We are all connected, and we remain connected by bonds of love even after we leave this earth, and the sealing powers which are exercised in the temple are the welding links between the generations and will continue throughout the eternities.
Some of you came here for the knitting. I am looking at the fallow end of the couch.
Infive ten fifteen minutes it will not look like this. [I forgot to allow for shredding time.] The grocery store fliers will be in the recycling totes. The dry-cleaning will be ready to go out the door. The magazines I’ve read will go into my give-away pile, and the ones I’ve yet to read will go onto that shelf in the loo. The RS stuff will be back in its tote. Why all this flurry of domesticity? Because I strongly suspect that my tape measure is buried under there, and I need to gauge the depth of the armscye to know if it is time to bind off for the shoulder on the back of Autumn Asters.
Well, I was wrong about the tape measure. It wasn’t on the couch. I pulled up all the tuckings-in on the slipcover. Nada. I suppose the next item on the list is to get down on my hands and knees with a flashlight and see if it is under the couch.
But the flashlight is out in the car. [I do know where the car is!] And thankfully, I also know where the ruler is that belonged to my sister when she was a girl; it tells me that I need to work two more rows before I can begin binding off the shoulders.
And some people think that knitting is boring... This morning I have had mystery, archaeology, and recycling, all before breakfast!
My solution is to keep the catalogue on my reading shelf in the loo, far away from the keyboard, the phone, and the debit card.
Today would have been Dad’s 104th birthday. He died 19 years ago last month. I wonder if there is birthday cake in Heaven, a brief celebration to mark a life well-lived, in the midst of all he is doing to build the Kingdom and bless this family from the other side of the veil. Middlest shared with me, when we were talking quietly one night, some of the things he did for her when she was a small child, after his passing. They are her stories, and they are sacred, so I will not share them here. But I know by the witness of the Spirit that they are true, and not idle fancies or vain imaginings.
We are all connected, and we remain connected by bonds of love even after we leave this earth, and the sealing powers which are exercised in the temple are the welding links between the generations and will continue throughout the eternities.
Some of you came here for the knitting. I am looking at the fallow end of the couch.
In
Well, I was wrong about the tape measure. It wasn’t on the couch. I pulled up all the tuckings-in on the slipcover. Nada. I suppose the next item on the list is to get down on my hands and knees with a flashlight and see if it is under the couch.
But the flashlight is out in the car. [I do know where the car is!] And thankfully, I also know where the ruler is that belonged to my sister when she was a girl; it tells me that I need to work two more rows before I can begin binding off the shoulders.
And some people think that knitting is boring... This morning I have had mystery, archaeology, and recycling, all before breakfast!
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Oh, My Darlings: Clementines!
Love them. I was talking with a friend last night. We both like oranges, but neither of us likes all the fuss and peeling to get to the good stuff. With clementines, there’s very little bother. A bit of skin, hardly any stringy bits to peel off, and only the occasional seed. Breakfast yesterday was two slices of pizza in the car and two clementines once I’d gotten to work. Lunch was a bowl of granola with a sliced banana. I will probably do the same again today.
I took that hour of comp time yesterday and got my nails done before heading over to Knit Night. I hit the bookstore a little before 6:00, walking in right after Monica and her daughter to see Rebecca and hers. Thanks to the grace of my young friend, I got one of the soft chairs and a promise of assistance if I couldn’t climb up out of it under my own steam at the end of the evening.
I’d grabbed a small mango smoothie on the way to the NailDude’s, so around 7:30 my stomach was saying, “Hey, that was all very well and good, but what about dinner?” Before I left the bookstore, I called Middlest on my cell phone, and sixteen of us sang “Happy Birthday to You” in at least a dozen keys.
I have nine more rows of colorwork before I begin the solid bit at the top of the back, and I will probably begin the shoulder and neck shaping while on the train this morning. I just finished weaving in last night’s ends. I don’t like doing that on the train; I’d rather do it at lunch, when I have that nice long table to support the fabric, or while sitting on the couch here at home.
I almost called 1BDH last night to tease him, “It’s Tuesday night, and surprise! No flats!”
I have a modicum of church work to do tonight. No presidency meeting this week. And then maybe I can catch up my laundry? We are rapidly approaching critical mass, chez Ravelled.
Work, praise be, is going well. Over the past two days I have sent out over 80 vacation letters for two attorneys. I have three letters to send out today, and a tape to transcribe, and a few invoices to pay for my favorite legal secretary. But first, there is more cold pizza in the fridge, to enjoy while the tub fills...
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