Wooly Headed

Nameless no more

2012-01-25T14:34:00.000-05:00

After an extended debate (which went on far too long and was wearing on all of us), we would like to formally introduce the newest member of the family.

Please say hello to .... Leonidas!

(but you can call him Leo for short)

Plans: reconsidered

2012-01-23T15:08:00.001-05:00

Even before Duke died, we knew would get another dog. Not until spring, though ... with Duke gone and WB finally potty trained, I was looking forward to a break from Poop Patrol.

We knew we wanted another Labrador Retriever, and, since neither of our asthma kids were troubled by living with Duke, we wanted our new dog to be one of his relatives. We'd also been warned that established breeders frequently have more buyers than puppies, so it would be wise to get our name on their spring list early.

With all that in mind, in early December I called the kennel that Duke's mother came from. We could certainly get on her wait list, the breeder said. But if we were interested, she had a nice litter who would be ready to go shortly after Christmas.

"Oh, no!" I said, horrified at the thought. There were SO MANY reasons not to get a dog that soon, with "adequate time for mourning" and "house breaking in the winter" leading the list. Then Dad died, and getting another dog was the last thing on my mind.

Fast forward to shortly after Eldest's birthday. I was cleaning up the kitchen and ran across the notes I took during my conversation with the breeder. Scanning them, I was reminded that she had suggested I call her after the first of the year to talk about the litters she'd have available in 2012.

A few days later I gave her a call, she and I had a lovely chat, I sent her some pictures of Duke so she could see what type of dog we were looking for, she sent me back some pictures of pups she had ready to go now (yes, the same ones she'd told me about in our first conversation) .....

I'm pretty sure you know where all this is heading.

He arrived last night (he flew in on Delta! First we had dad's cremains mailed from Iowa to Tennessee for burial, now we got a dog via airmail ... I am pondering all of the other things I could have shipped to me, and thinking that it might be possible to never set foot in a store again), and has been the center of delighted attention ever since.

I am so glad we didn't wait until spring.

p.s. No name yet. We have many ideas, but next to no consensus. For now, he is "The Pup to be Named Later".

I don't have a title for this post

2012-01-17T14:12:00.005-05:00

Using NaKniMitMo to clear out the WIP section of my closet is working very well.

Freshly off the needles:

pattern: Vespergyles (Ravlery link)

While I am very happy with the way these mittens look, I realized too late that I should have used a smaller needle and/or cut a repeat out of the pattern ... they're hopelessly big for my hands. Her Ladyship was quick to point out that they are NOT too big for her hands ... that comment, when paired with some cooing over how soft the yarn (Classic Elite Fresco) is, was enough for me transfer possession to my daughter.

I'm still hoping to get a pair of mittens for myself knit this month.

*****

With all that was going on here during December, I forgot to tell you about the newest member of our household.

Meet Oscar ....

Bluebell died in July of 2010, but it wasn't until this past September that Her Ladyship felt ready to get another bird. Unfortunately, our local pet store (where Eldest has worked part time since last spring) didn't have any suitable parakeets available for most of the fall.

The weekend before Thanksgiving, Eldest came home from his shift talking about a new batch of parakeets the shop had received. They were very young, but hand tamed and quite personable. "You'll have to move fast," he warned his sister. "Birds this nice don't last long."

We made plans to pick out a new bird early the next week, but in the interim Duke took a sudden turn for the worse, and we knew that it was time to let him go. The last thing on earth I felt like doing was to bring a new pet into the house ... it felt disrespectful, somehow.

However, Her Ladyship had taken her brother's warning to heart, and was very anxious not to miss out on one of the "good" parakeets. Against my better judgement, we went to the store, where she promptly fell in love with this little guy, and decided to take him home.

And do you know what? It was the right thing to do. The last few days of Duke's life were terrible ... waiting for his final appointment as we watched his physical condition rocket downhill was heartbreaking. We loved on him as much as we could, but his last week was more bitter than sweet.

Having a baby bird in the house ... one who wanted to hang out and interact with the members of his new flock ... was just what we needed to make it through those difficult days.

In the two months he's been part of the family, we've learned a few things about Oscar. He prefers to perch nearby than right on someone's shoulder. He thinks it's really fun to run up and down the little ladder in his cage. And he's inordinately fond of Offenbach's Can-Can.

We're all very glad he's here.

Ephemera

2012-01-12T11:09:00.005-05:00

Thank you for the birthday wishes for Eldest. He celebrated by working all day, then going out for dinner and a movie with his girlfriend while we had carryout and wondered where the years had gone.

Sniff.

(We still had a family party, we just moved it back a day. On Sunday night we dined on the birthday boy's choice of steak, mashed potatoes, and green bean casserole, with pecan pie instead of cake for dessert. His family gave him books, a Starbucks card, this t-shirt, the promise of a laptop for college, a 4x5 spiral notebook, and a sheet of guinea pig stickers. It was very nice.)

*****

It's January, which means MITTENS. The NaKniMitMo knitalong is in full swing, and I am determined to redeem myself after failing to finish even a single pair of mittens last year.

To that end, I decided to use the KAL as motivation to get some of my half-finished mitten projects off the needles. First up .... the Ringo mittens I started for WB last September (Ravelry link). I remember finishing the first mitten in less than a week, and when I pulled out the project bag I discovered that I'd already knit the cuff for mitten #2, so it wasn't long before WB was the proud owner of a pair of "wacood" mittens.

These are seriously among the cutest things I've ever made, and not just because of the impish expression on Ringo's face. To get the full effect, you have to see the front AND the back ....

You can see why I had to add an i-cord leash. If (when) WB lost one of these, I would be very, very sad.

*****

Speaking of WB, I am happy to report that she is getting easier to live with. She now says I'm her best friend, and hasn't tried to eject me from the family in at least a week (although banishing Young'un is apparently still high on her to-do list).

The other day she was up before the big kids, so I enlisted her help in getting them out of bed. She had no trouble with Her Ladyship, but Eldest had been up late the night before, and wasn't responding to her calls.

"Give him a poke," I suggested.

"Wake UP!" she said, prodding her brother in the shoulder with her finger.

"Mmmmph!" said Eldest. I suggested she try again.

"WAKE UP!!" she said more loudly, giving his knee a shove for emphasis.

"O.k., I'm up!" said Eldest groggily, as he lifted his head off his pillow.

"Good job, WB," I said. "Now why don't you give your brother a good morning kiss?"

She pursed her lips and gave him a loud smack on the cheek. He smiled at her, I instantly melted and went all mommy-mush brain, looking at my bookend kids, so far apart in age, yet loving each other so much. Oh, I thought, how she is going miss him when he's at college! "There, Eldest," I said fondly, "Isn't that a nice way to wake .... "

"YUCK!" said WB, sticking out her tongue and shaking her head vigorously from side to side. "Blech! Bluch! Yuck!!!"

Alrighty, then!

It's o.k. We're all works in progress.

18

2012-01-07T10:45:00.000-05:00

At the beginning of last month Eldest and I were watching tv together. I was knitting, he was on the computer, it was all very companionable. Then ....

"You know," he said casually, "it occurs to me that in a few weeks I won't have to listen to you any more."

"You know," I replied, "it occurs to me that in a few weeks I'm no longer obligated to pay for your college education."

There was a brief pause.

"I could listen to you for a few more years," he said.

Smart boy.

Happy birthday, Eldest!

Love,
Mom

Dear 2011: Here's your hat, what's your hurry?

2011-12-31T23:14:00.017-05:00

I don 't think I have ever been so happy to see a year come to an end.

This has been a ridiculously hard year for our family. I thought things were rough last Spring (you can always tell how hard I'm working to keep my head above water by how many pairs of socks I'm turning out. I completed four pair in April alone), but this Fall was in a class by itself. Surgery in October, then no power for days on end, followed by having my sadness over the dog's death put firmly into perspective by my father's passing on December 10th, complicated by other things I cannot blog about because they are not my story to tell, but ENOUGH, ALREADY! ......

Dear God,

Uncle.

Love,
Me

*****

WB's behavior has been evening out, although she still has her moments. Over the last two weeks she has been over-the-top frustrated by the failure of her repeated attempts to oust one or the other of us from the inner circle. "You are not in my family!" she informs her target, sharply. "You are not my friend ANY MORE."

So far, the only person exempt from this treatment has been Eldest (who is, to WB's way of thinking, Practically Perfect in Every Way). When words fail her, she has been resorting to hitting ... although tonight I flummoxed her by grabbing her hand before it landed on my arm (my crime? asking her to brush her teeth) and covering it with kisses.

"There," I said to her. "Now, whenever you hit me with your hand, you're giving me lots and lots of love."

You could actually SEE the wheels turn while she tried to think of a way around this. Rather than concede defeat, I was informed that she was NOT going to have a blanket covering her tonight, and she would NOT be using a pillow. She glared at me defiantly.

"O.k.," I said, with (feigned) cheerful indifference. "Sleep tight!"

This was not the reaction she was looking for. She ordered me out of her room -- "NOW, MAMA" -- and was shocked, SHOCKED, when I gave her a quick kiss goodnight and did what she asked.

She doesn't know that I stayed within earshot until I was certain she was asleep, then slipped back in to give her another kiss and cover her with her blanket.

I love her beyond reason, but HEAVENS ABOVE, she is trying my patience.

*****

The sum total of my knitting for the year:

Missing from this collage are some mitts, two pair of socks, and a cowl for my mother, all finished since the end of October.

I know, bad blogger. But honestly ... photographing handknits has been a low priority around here lately. I'll catch up eventually.

****

Last but not least ... 2011, as summed up the first line of the first post of each month:

January: Happy birthday to a boy who has ALWAYS known how to wear a hat.

February: This week's topic is "10 Things on Your Beside Table", to which I say ... only 10?

March: Someone really missed her older brother while he was away.

April: We never planned to have WB share our bedroom with us for so long.

May: It is May 3rd, and I was never so happy to turn the pages on my wall calendar as I was on Sunday morning.

June: Someone does not want to share the strawberries.

July: Taking what she's learned in the classroom ... and using it in the real world.

August: So much for my grand plan to post at least once a week!

September: At this time last week, our house was a flurry of activity.

October: This morning's text exchange between me and Eldest:

November: My apologies ... I didn't mean to blog about having surgery and disappear like that.

December: Thank you for your kind thoughts and expressions of support in the wake of Duke's death.

*****

Wishing us all a happy, challenge-free 2012 ....

Finding the spirit

2011-12-23T22:00:00.004-05:00

I got back to Massachusetts on Sunday, and it's been a hard week, made even harder by the Mood WB has been in. She has taken four-year-old bossiness to new and dizzying heights ... she tries to control who can or cannot enter a room, tells anyone who attempts to talk to her that they cannot be her friend any more, asks for a hug or kiss and then barks "NO!" when you comply. At her class holiday party I learned that she'd gotten into trouble every day this week, mostly for refusing to cooperate with completely reasonable requests (e.g. putting her coat on before going out to the playground). My neighbor had her over for an hour this morning so that I could get some work done, and apparently the girl spent several minutes shouting at the baby gate that prevented her from going upstairs.

Being in her company is a PURE DELIGHT.

"You were gone for 10 days!" my friend Tanya reminded me. "In the middle of that they all came out to join you, then they left and you stayed behind ... did you think you were going to get away with that without paying for it?"

Poor WB. The world as she has always known it changed dramatically in a very short period of time, of course she's reacting by trying to control everything.

All we can do is ignore the negativity the best we can, let her know that it is o.k. to be sad about losing Grandpa and Duke, and, most important, show her through words and deeds that even when things change, there are an awful lot of people who love her (even when she's being a complete and total pill), and that she's going to be o.k.

I think another part of the problem is that it doesn't look very much like Christmas around here. When I left for Des Moines our Christmas cards had arrived, but as of today, they're still sitting in a box on my desk. I need to write our annual newsletter before I send them out, but my heart just isn't in it. I managed to get my shopping done (largely thanks to Amazon Prime), but the only decorating I've managed so far is to hang wreaths on the door and porch, and I did that the day I left town.

Well, now, that's not quite true. I have done some decorating, just not in my own house. My folks had planned to decorate their house the weekend Dad died, so one of the things my brother and I did while we waited for our families to arrive was put up their tree (already purchased, but not yet installed in the living room ... Dad really did dread getting the tree set up) and prepare the living room for guests with a few of the decorations I remember so well from my childhood.

Frankly, I'd really prefer to let things go this year ... but A) that wouldn't be fair to the children, who love Christmas, and B) it is the last thing on earth Dad would want us to do. "You have to at least have a tree!" he'd say.

And he would be right.

So this afternoon I shook off my own Mood and rounded up the kids to go shopping. We had to go to a couple of farm stands before finding one that had anything to sell (apparently waiting until the afternoon of December 23rd to buy one's Christmas tree isn't Done around here), but eventually found a nursery that had a handful left.

We BOUGHT the tree, but haven't put it up yet ... that will have to wait for tomorrow night, after B and the kids have finished their shopping and Eldest comes home from work. We'll decorate the tree and hang the stockings, but I'm not sure how much else will get done ... the cards have to wait until next week, for sure, and it's a safe bet I won't get any baking done. No matter.

It's slow going, but we'll get there.

And everything will be o.k.

A light shines

2011-12-16T19:31:00.004-05:00

The following tribute was written by my brother David, and read aloud on behalf of the family at my father's memorial service on December 14, 2011.

My family and I have been touched by many kind words about my father received over the past several days. Thank you. My favorite was offered by a close friend, Ellen Failor, who said, "to have known Gus Nelson was to have argued with Gus Nelson."

Christmas is coming. It's almost here. Our trees have been decorated. We are in the midst of finishing our gift shopping. Next week, our kids will be out of school, college students will return to their parents' homes, and we will start to plan holiday meals. In only 10 days we'll be singing familiar carols and lighting candles. Our children will go to sleep in eager anticipation of Santa Claus making his annual visit.

My father liked all of this very much. Well, almost all of it. He did not like trying to get the tree to stand straight in the stand. Nor was he particularly adept at getting the tree to stand straight.

For my father, the shopping was never quick work. Why run a sprint when you can run a marathon? For the one perfect gift for my mother, he would travel from one mall to another and back again, then to Mr. B's, then to Reichardt's, then to Badowers, then to a downtown shop, then stop for lunch, then start the circuit again, thinking maybe new inventory came in while he was eating. If my sister or I were available, he'd ask for our advice, then take us to all of the aforementioned stores once again to review his options. My sister and I made a point of looking busy.

When we were young children, my father had a sadistic tradition of forcing us to read the Christmas story from the Bible aloud on the stairs of the house before going downstairs to see our gifts. Then when we finally got downstairs, he had taped off the living room with old newspapers so that we wouldn't be able to see our gifts until after we ate breakfast.

My father liked holiday music, too. Last week, in the hospital, music seemed to bring my father some comfort. We placed an iPhone on the pillow next to his head. We listened to a lot of Christmas music. We had "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" as performed by Sinatra, Dexter Gordon, and Gerry Mulligan. To my sister's great displeasure, we even had a recording of Bob Dylan singing this Christmas standard. My father may very well have thought he was stuck in a particularly quiet department store, with a particularly limited play list.

The promise of Christmas -- the sacred promise of Advent -- is that "a light shines in the darkness and the darkness does not overcome it."

For my father the light that shines in the darkness -- the fulfilled promise of Christmas -- was reflected in the love, support, and laughter of all of you -- his friends, family and colleagues.

Gus Nelson reveled in his breakfast meetings. Wednesday mornings at HyVee, Friday mornings at the Drake Diner, were not to be missed. He was drawn to his lectionary group. Perhaps like a moth to a lightbulb, but drawn all the same. He enjoyed engaging in the lives of church members
-- understanding their work and meeting with their families. He savored opportunities to see friends from the other side of town and other parts of the country. He loved informal gatherings of neighbors (especially if there was popcorn involved). He was thrilled to be in Boston or Beloit or Minneapolis or Bristol or Chicago or Washington, DC or Blowing Rock or Hilton Head to be with his children, brothers and sisters, grandchildren, nieces and nephews, friends and loved ones.

My father kept small company with his own personal theological beliefs. He did, however, share something with me that was telling of his faith. He told me that "the love of Charlotte Bowers Nelson was evidence of God at work in his life." It was all the proof he needed.

Well, that ... and maybe an occasional national championship from the Duke University basketball team.

Christmas is almost here. A light does shine in the darkness. The darkness does not overcome it.

Thank you, God, for the life of Gus Nelson. Amen. Merry Christmas.

mom and dad in my kitchen, April 2010

May 19, 1927 - December 10, 2011

2011-12-10T14:19:00.002-05:00

The bustle in a house
The morning after death
Is solemnest of industries
Enacted upon earth,--

The sweeping up the heart,
And putting love away
We shall not want to use again
Until eternity

-- Emily Dickinson

2011-12-08T23:48:00.000-05:00

Thank you all so much for your kind thoughts and expressions of support in the wake of Duke's death. We're doing fairly well. Missing the big Goof terribly, of course, but grateful for the 12+ years we had with him. Your good wishes have meant a lot to us.

Unfortunately, Life is playing rough again. My father suffered a stroke last night, and as I write is in critical but stable condition.

I'll be back when I can.

R.I.P.

2011-11-26T14:36:00.001-05:00

Duke

May 19, 1999 - November 26, 2011

Why does doing the right thing have to hurt so much?

2011-11-23T17:43:00.001-05:00

In the last week, Duke's quality of life has gone sharply downhill.

We're taking the next few days to love on him and spoil him rotten (guess who's getting his own order of french fries tonight?), and on Saturday we will say goodbye.

How lucky are we to have had this dog in our lives?

Untitled from Ruth B on Vimeo.

We love you, Bubba. So much.

Power struggle

2011-11-17T11:10:00.008-05:00

I wanted something easy but not-a-sock to knit while I was recovering. Stockinette, no fancy technical flourishes, and ideally rather small, so I could feel like I was accomplishing something, even though I was spending most of every day parked on the couch. I pulled a child's cardigan pattern from my Ravelry queue, some yarn from stash and got started.

Things went smoothly at first. But really, why wouldn't they? The project was an almost seamless cardigan, in size 4T. I would be able to knit this thing in my sleep.

(Or while on oxycodone. Potato/potahto.)

The cardigan played nice at first. I finished the body in less than two days, then cast on the left sleeve. I was an inch or so from the top when I realized that I'd only knit the purl row that borders the switch from 2x3 ribbing to stockinette across three of my four needles. BACK WHEN I'D FINISHED THE CUFF.

I pondered my options for a while (Would anyone really notice that small missing section of purl bumps? Would I? Even if I did, would it bother me? Was it something that could be fixed with duplicate stitch and/or a crochet hook? SO MANY WEIGHTY QUESTIONS), but ultimately decided that A) the flaw would make me crazy and B) I had nothing but time anyway.

Riiiiiiiiiiip.

I fixed the offending stitches and knit the sleeve again. This time, I made it all the way to the top before I realized that I'd screwed up the increase rows.

Riiiiiiiiiiip.

My third attempt was the one that took. The right sleeve was no problem at all, so I joined the sleeves to the body and started to knit the yoke.

Like a good do-bee, I read the instructions (although I didn't really need to, since I'd knit several sweaters like this before, and knew exactly what I was supposed to do next). "Dec 2 sts on each side of all markers," yeah, yeah, I got it. I knit away, ssk-ing on the right side of the markers and k-ing tog on the left, smug in my certainty that I'd taught the sweater who was boss. When I was finished ....

I had twice as many stitches on the needle as I was supposed to.

Riiiiiiiiiiip.

I re-checked the instructions (but didn't bother to "SEE DECREASING TIP" as instructed -- all caps theirs -- because I know how to decrease a sweater yoke, DUH), got to the end, and ......

had too many stitches on the needle. Again.

Riiiiiiiiiiip.

It was as I was putting everything back on the needles for my third run at this STUPID, STUPID YOKE that WB came to see me.

"Whacha knitty?" she demanded.

"A sweater," I said.

"Da me?"

"Yes, honey, Mommy is making you a new purple sweater! Isn't it pretty?" I asked, holding the sweater out so she could see it better.

Her nostrils flared. "Huh." she said critically. "I wike pink."

I AM SO HAPPY TO HEAR THAT! GO SEE DADDY NOW.

Before my third try I did a little math, and realized that in order to have the right number of stitches for the neck, I needed to be decreasing twice as fast as I was. I searched the DROPS website for errata ... nothing. I pulled up other people's project pictures on Ravelry and zoomed in on the raglan seams, trying to see if they'd followed the pattern or decreased more often. Unfortunately, no one had taken any beauty shots of this portion of the sweater.

Half way into attempt #3, I could tell I was still decreasing too slowly.

At this point, the Purple Nightmare -- which was CLEARLY acting the age of the child it was being knit for -- was put into time out.

Several days passed before I was able to face the sweater again. Before I got started, I decided that perhaps I should go ahead and read the DECREASING TIP. It wasn't going to tell me anything I didn't already know, but the nice people at DROPS had put it in all caps, so the least I could do was read it.

The first sentence told me that I was going to lose 16 stitches per decrease round. But ... how was that possible? Decreasing on either side of four markers would only give me 8 decreases total, unless .... my eyes went back to the original instructions.

"Dec 2 sts on each side of all markers". Two stitches! Ah. That would be .... not what I'd been doing.

So.

I decided to follow those DECREASING INSTRUCTIONS to the letter. Well, would you look at that!

It worked.

O.k., sweater, FINE. LET'S JUST GET THIS OVER WITH.

I knit the button bands, and it will probably not surprise you at ALL to hear that despite my previous experience I decided to punt the buttonhole placement, and ended up without enough room to evenly space the one on the collar. Well, I'd ripped and re knit this stupid sweater enough, I wasn't going to do it again. At this point, the sweater probably thought it had won (I am pretty sure it was smirking), but I had one last weapon in my arsenal.

Q: What sweater doesn't need a button on its collar band?

A: One with a hood.

Take THAT, purple cardi.

I win.

What remains

2011-11-10T21:44:00.002-05:00

As of today, most of the leaky slate roof has been stripped ....

Necessary structural repairs have been completed ...

And aside from a broken porch window, which is going to be fixed tomorrow, the only complication was an itty bitty ceiling collapse in the upstairs half bath (the one where the pipe burst in 2007), which resulted in the appearance of a skylight where none had been planned ...

which has already been repaired.

In fact, so far the only major surprise has been a good one ....

But I think this one deserves a post of its own.

Patience incarnate

2011-11-06T15:30:00.000-05:00

He's a wonderful brother.

Back to the land of the living

2011-11-04T14:02:00.002-05:00

My apologies .... I didn't mean to blog about having had surgery and disappear like that. At first I was too tired, sore, and fuzzy-headed to write, then Stuff started happening, and before I knew it three weeks had gone by.

The first thing to slow my recovery was the God-awful cold that someone brought home from school, which managed to bypass the men of the household and dump its considerable charms (cough, congestion, sneezing, fever) on the ladies. I was well enough by the end of last week to drive myself to my two-week followup appointment, where I was told that things are healing well, and to continue with restricted activity for another month.

This was unexpected (I had assumed that lifting restrictions would be waived after that appointment), but I have been trying to make use of the extra downtime. I didn't feel like doing much, anyway, what with all the coughing and wheezing (the nature of my surgery made coughing a particularly painful experience), so I did a fair amount of reading (The House at Riverton and The Distant Hours, both by Kate Morton, and both quite wonderful ... although if pressed I will admit to liking The Distant Hours more. This Beautiful Life was just o.k.), tv watching and knitting. I don't usually get the time to heal at the doctor-prescribed pace (which is part of the reason this most recent surgery was necessary in the first place), so the cold was sort of a blessing in disguise ... I felt too sick to push my recovery, so I just let go, accepted people's offers of help, and relaxed into a slower pace.

I enjoyed all the reading and tv watching, but my knitting didn't go particularly well. There's a story there, which I was planning to blog about at the end of last week, when my life of leisure was very rudely interrupted.

You may have heard that we had a bit of Weather here on the east coast last Saturday. The storm hit our area pretty hard, leaving trees and power lines down all over town. We didn't lose power during the storm ... oh, no. We were shut off DELIBERATELY, so that the power company could locate and isolate broken lines.

Which means that we were among the last to have our electrical service turned back on.

When all was said and done, we were dark for 51 hours.

It was quite an adventure. We farmed out the guinea pigs on Monday, and sent Duke (who insisted on sleeping on his usual bed in the family room, where the temp was a balmy 42 degrees) to the vet for the day on Tuesday. Thank heaven for our school superintendent, who opened the high school Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday evenings so that those without power could take a hot shower, eat a meal, and charge their phones and computers. We had power back by Wednesday, but ate in the cafeteria both Monday and Tuesday nights.

I usually complain about all the doors in our house (each room has at least two -- the boys' bedroom has four), but as long as we were without power they were a Godsend. When it became clear that getting power back was going to take a while we shut off every room but the living room, and used our fireplace for its original purpose .... heating the house. ("This is the way things were when this house was built," I said Monday afternoon. "Wow," said Young'un. "People were COLD back then.")

Things weren't completely awful -- the kids read books, played board and card games, WB and Young'un spent a lot of time playing a game involving knights, castles, and unicorns, and we all went to bed much earlier than usual. For once, the kids were glad I'm a knitter ... wool socks, hats and mittens for everyone!

By the time the south shore-based utility trucks turned up on our street Tuesday afternoon, we were so grateful to see them we cheered (crews from all over -- even other states -- were pulled in to help with the cleanup effort). I told one of the drivers that if I had a functioning oven, I'd have baked them cookies. We had a moment of panic when they drove off not 30 minutes after their arrival -- WITHOUT restoring electrical service to our street -- but five hours later they were back, having found and fixed the breaks that caused our power to be shut off in the first place. Within the hour, things were back to normal.

So ... that's where I've been. Next week, the saga of WB's purple cardigan.

Oh! And did I mention that we're getting a new roof put on the house? Considering how well our home-improvement projects usually go, there's probably going to be a story or two in that, as well.

You may consider yourself warned.

My plans for the weekend

2011-10-14T17:26:00.002-05:00

What I wish I were doing: seeing friends and getting high on wool fumes at Rhinebeck.

What I'll be doing instead: spending lots of quality time with This Beautiful Life, the October sock, my grandmother's afghan, high quality prescription drugs, and the remote.

And possibly some very Angry Birds.

This is because I had surgery on Wednesday. The timing could have been better re: going to Rhinebeck, but the surgery itself -- done to repair the damage done to my pelvic floor in childbirth -- was long overdue. Everything went well, and my family and friends are taking very good care of me.

So if you're looking for me over the next few days, this is where I'll be.

The best thing about Rhinebeck? There's always next year.

History geekdom FTW

2011-10-07T17:43:00.001-05:00

This morning's text exchange between me and Eldest:

Me: You need a code (and cash) to buy lunch starting today. Your code number is 1227.

Eldest: You told me last night. Besides, that's the year Genghis Khan died, so it's easy to remember.

image source: http://www.saudiaramcoworld.com/issue/200704/history.s.hinge.ain.jalut.htm

Not dead yet

2011-09-30T13:26:00.003-05:00

I think I have figured out how to keep Duke alive forever.

Whenever he gets sick or does something strange (and by "strange", I mean that he demanded that his water bowl be moved into the downstairs shower, then, once he quenched his thirst, climbed into said shower and stared at the corner until I realized he was still in the bathroom and went to check on him), all I have to do is write a fretful blog post or Facebook status update, and he'll snap right out of it.

That's not what did it.

Oh? Then what did?

I like all the solicitous attention, but there's only so much Dora a dog can take. Besides, do you think I didn't see you checking out the Big Fluffy Dog Rescue online?

But ... but ... you didn't eat anything for over 36 hours! And that business with the water bowl in the shower was WEIRD! As for "Big Fluffy Dogs", my friend Jen got a puppy through them. I was JUST LOOKING.

Whatever, lady. I saw how long you lingered on the pictures of that Great Pyrenees/Golden mix.

Now tell the Internet that the reports of my impending demise have been greatly exaggerated, and stop worrying those nice people.

Sheesh. After all these years I think you'd remember that I'm the only dog for this house.

Duly noted, Bubba. Duly noted.

Frankenponcho

2011-09-19T15:41:00.002-05:00

I was planning to make an afghan, that’s where it started. I spent a little too much time on Lucy’s site and got a hankering for a bright, stripey afghan, went out and bought a whole slew of Berroco Vintage in all sorts of yummy colors …. Sour Cherry, Kiwi, Blush, Dewberry, Aquae.

As happens all too often, though, once I got the yarn home and wound, my afghan-making mojo evaporated, leaving me with 12 single skeins of yarn in search of a project.

So how did the yarn for an afghan turn into a poncho for WB? If I were to reconstruct my chain of thought, it probably went something like this:

I don’t have enough of any one color for a single project. This stuff is all going to go to waste.
I hate waste.
Wait, stripes! I could do something with stripes!
In these colors? I’d look like a clown.
Little kids look good in bright stripes. I could make something for WB.
Maybe a poncho?
I hate ponchos.
On ME. I hate ponchos on ME. Little girls are the poncho's target audience.
ooo, I could fringe it! WB loves fringe.
I should make a poncho for WB.

I pulled out my pattern books, and didn’t find anything that was exactly right. I’d made the Children’s Poncho by Knitting Pure & Simple (Ravelry link) twice before, and it was as easy as could be, but I knew WB would prefer something with a bit more twirl to it. I pondered the problem for a bit, looked a few more patterns and rejected them for various reasons (who wants to seam a poncho?), then decided to cobble together the features I liked best (plus a detail or two from a sweater I bought a few years ago) and custom-craft something to my own specifications.

A sort of "Frankenponcho".

I cast on in September, 2010 and knit the body of the poncho in about two weeks. I got one side fringed right away, then ran out of gas.

(Fringe may be fun to look at, but it’s really dull to make.)

I stuffed the project bag into a closet and more or less forgot about it until this past weekend, when, in the spirit of the River Lace stole I decided to just get it done already. A evening spent watching a movie with Eldest here, a couple of quiet hours on a Sunday afternoon there, and voila! One fringy poncho, over and out.

After school today WB and I took her new poncho for a road-test at the local Arboretum. It looked great as she strolled and hopped along the trail:

and survived some fairly vigorous rock climbing.

Overall, I think I managed to put that yarn to pretty good use.

Just don't tell WB she could have had the poncho a year ago, ok?

4

2011-09-12T14:50:00.000-05:00

Dear WB,

On the day you were born, I told the nurse that as long as you’d come early, I wished it had been a day earlier or later. "Every time she tells someone her birthday, they're going to react," I fretted.

“Oh, no,” the nurse said. “What happened on 9/11 was terrible … but now your family has something good to celebrate on that day. A living reminder that life goes on.”

She was so right.

Happy birthday, my darling girl. I am so glad to have your sparkling sweetness in my life.

Love,
Mommy

Sock rainbow

2011-09-08T13:28:00.002-05:00

For Ten on Tuesday this week, Carole asked us to list 10 things that we’d like to knit this Fall/Winter.

I didn’t participate (mostly because Tuesday was a busy day and I didn’t have time to blog), but I have been mulling over what I might want to knit now that cool weather has returned.

I am SO glad for the return of cooler weather. It was a hard summer for knitting. Not only were things pretty busy around here, what with the elderly dog, and the kids all milling about underfoot (no one went to sleep away camp this year), but July and August were very hot, and we don’t have air conditioning. Under those conditions I can’t handle thinking about anything more challenging than remembering where I put my circular needles. Frankly, this summer I couldn’t even face the challenge of choosing what colors to work with. I wanted to knit, because I NEED to knit, but knew from experience that the projects I was working on should be small, and as simple and soothing as possible.

(Granted, I finished that lace stole, but the pattern was pretty easy, and lace is LIGHT. As far as I’m concerned, that’s the project that proves the rule.)

This is exactly the situation for which self-patterning sock yarn was invented.

In an attempt to prevent my brain from atrophying completely, I decided the following:

I would aim to finish one pair of socks per month.
I could only use yarn from the stash.
I would choose yarn that corresponded with the color of that month for Project Spectrum (I actually started doing this in May and wanted to continue).
Once the PS-themed socks were done, I could knit anything I wanted (as long as it was yarn from stash).

My hope was that setting those rules would give me just enough structure to feel like I was DOING something -- without setting myself up to fail -- and make a nice little dent in the stash in the process.

I’d say it worked.

The more astute among you have noticed that there are more than three pairs of socks in that stack. The red socks were knit along with Project Spectrum in May, and the stripy blue ones at the bottom carried me from May to June. I found the project bag containing the camo-striped socks near the top when I was clearing out a clutter-clogged corner of the living room ... thanks to Ravelry, I was able to figure out that I’d started them in May of 2009. What you do not see in this picture are the socks I finished when I went back to Iowa solo a few weeks ago -- it’s amazing how much you can get done when you have some time to yourself and a couple of delayed flights.

Finding yarn to correspond with Project Spectrum turned out not to be not much of a challenge at all. Turns out that particular rule wasn't "limiting" as much as it was "incentive to stop hoarding".

I’ve been enjoying this so much that I plan to continue. For September Project Spectrum is focusing on yellow, and, yes ... I had the perfect yarn in stash.

Which probably surprises nobody.

In honor of a "soft-spoken radical"

2011-09-02T14:58:00.004-05:00

At this time last week, our house was a flurry of activity.

Hurricane Irene was coming, so like everyone else we had water, batteries and peanut butter to buy and hatches to be battened down (not to mention fretting about the ancient, ailing maple trees in front of the house). In the middle of all that, I had to do all the packing and organizing necessary whenever I go out of town by myself ... because although I really, really did not want to leave my family with a hurricane aiming right for them, that Saturday was the day my mother was going to be inducted into the Iowa Women's Hall of Fame. There was no way on earth I was going to miss THAT.

So, two weeks after we came home from Iowa I was headed back, this time by myself (my parents and I calculated that it had been 18 YEARS since the last time I paid them a solo visit). I went back a day early so that I could help my folks set up for the luncheon they were hosting at the house after the ceremony. Friday was a rush of planning, errands and visiting with family members in town for the festivities. There was some concern about Mom's right leg, which was giving her a few problems; she kept telling me that I was going to have to give her speech for her. I was more worried about the leg than I was willing to admit, but reassured her that she'd be able to speak for herself.

(I believe my exact words were, "You can't get out of this that easily." SUCH a loving and supportive daughter.)

Saturday morning we were all up early. Mom tried to eat a little something and made last minute revisions to her speech, while the rest of us busied ourselves with party prep. My dad set the dining room table ...

while my brother and his son arranged extra tables and chairs on the deck and patio, and I made centerpieces using Mom's parfait glasses and $21 worth of flowers from Costco and Trader Joe's.

Mom was emotional from the moment we arrived at the Historical Society, as person after person she wasn't expecting to see came up to give her a hug and wish her well. She was so thrilled that they'd come she sat down right there in the atrium and started to pencil each and every one of them into her speech. With only a few minutes remaining before the start of the ceremony, this caused a problem for the nice volunteer who had been designated to assist her; she needed to preset Mom's speech on the stage, but every time she came over to get it, Mom was busy editing. In the interest of hurrying things along, I started acting as goalie ...while Mom wrote, erased, and double-checked names, I intercepted the people heading in her direction to offer hugs and congratulations, and told them that they couldn't talk to her right now, please, God, SHE HAS A SPEECH TO FINISH!

My mom's friends LOVE me.

The ceremony was wonderful, as was the after-party at my parent's house. Mom's leg was pretty painful, so she talked to people from a comfortable chair in the center of the living room. I greeted guests, found vases for the flowers they brought, and helped keep the food (and mimosas) flowing. It was a very special day ... people were telling Mom how much they loved and appreciated her, and although I know she (the most self-effacing person I know) was more than a little embarrassed by all the attention, I was thrilled that she could hear first hand how much her life and work were appreciated, and see how many people's lives she has changed for the better.

My father, offering a toast to his wife of 54 years.

I was originally scheduled to leave on Sunday, but my return was delayed for a day due to Hurricane Irene. While my family rode out the storm (we got off lightly ... no significant power outages, and no trees down), I enjoyed the gift of extra time with my parents. After my brother and nephew left Sunday morning, my folks and I went out for a leisurely lunch and then to a matinee showing of The Help. At least that was the plan ... but as we were heading into the theatre my father stopped short and turned to us with a horrified expression, having suddenly remembered the ordination he was supposed to be attending that afternoon. He had just enough time to get there, so off he went, leaving the two of us to see the movie by ourselves.

Despite the last minute change in plans, we both really enjoyed the movie. Mom grew up in the segregated South, so I was very interested in her perspective on what we'd just seen. We chatted, each returned a few calls, and played Scrabble on my phone while we waited for Dad to pick us up.

(Note to self: ask Mom for an oral history of her upbringing and young adulthood.)

Looking back at the weekend, I have to say that as happy as I was to be able to watch my mother receive her honors on Saturday, as wonderful as the party was ... for me, the best part of the weekend was the 24 hours I got to spend alone with my parents from Sunday noon until my plane left late Monday. Even if much of Monday was spent getting my mother's leg seen to by various doctors (a blood clot, heart, liver and kidney problems were all ruled out. Several days of bed rest and medication seem to have taken care of the problem), it has been many, many years since I had that kind of quiet, nowhere-special-to-go time to just hang out with my parents.

waiting outside the movie theater for Dad to pick us up

We'll have to make sure 18 years don't go by before it happens again.

p.s. "Soft-spoken radical" is the term used to describe my mother during the Hall of Fame ceremony.

Slow and steady wins the Lace

2011-08-25T06:00:00.024-05:00

Once upon a time, a long, long time ago (well, the summer of 2006. Which SEEMS like a long time ago), there was a popular knitalong called "The Amazing Lace".

Knitters all over the world chose yarn and pattern, then set off en masse towards Labor Day weekend. The competitors included some who had never knit lace before, some who were a bit more comfortable putting holes into their knitting on purpose but upped the ante by choosing a more complicated project than any they'd previously attempted, and some who just hoped to have the thing done in three months. The Lace had a dedicated blog where members could post updates on their projects, and in the end everyone who finished was a winner. Everyone couldn't get a prize, but they all had the internal satisfaction of a job well done ... not to mention an ethereal little something in hand to show for their efforts.

I was one of those knitters. And last month ... five years after everyone else finished or admitted defeat ... I staggered across the finish line.

While I crashed and apparently burned during the Lace itself, I never gave up entirely, as evidenced by the number of times the project (River Scarf and Stole by Evelyn Clark -- Ravelry link) has appeared on the blog over the years.

June 6, 2006 ... In which I officially join the KAL and my partner shows herself to be a bit of a diva.
June 27, 2006 ... Aflush with enthusiasm, I announce a goal of three repeats per day.
August 21, 2006 ... I confess to having taken the project on vacation, only to ignore it almost completely.
August 25, 2006 ... I accept that I am not going to finish The Amazing Lace by the deadline, and swear to have the project done by Christmas. Of that year.
February 9, 2007 ... I admit that I blew the Christmas deadline.
February 20, 2007 ... I describe the project as "delicious" ... but not, apparently, delicious enough to hold my attention.
June 27, 2007 ... Heavily pregnant, I started fantasizing about lace and dig the stole out of stash purgatory. I make pretty good headway, then WB is born and life is turned upside down.

That's where things ended. In the years since I've done a few little lace projects here and there, I've admired and coveted the shawls and scarves I've seen on others' blogs and on Ravelry, but my River Lace mojo was missing in action.

Missing, that is, until this June, when Kate started turning out one beautiful shawl after another, and I started itching to work on a larger lace project again. I resisted for a few weeks, but while I was looking for something blue to work on in July (oh, yeah ... I've been following along with Project Spectrum. Details later), I stumbled across the stole's project bag. "Well, now," I said to myself. "There's an idea."

But I had tried and failed to finish this project several times over the years ... did I have the mental wherewithal to finish this time? Well, I never hated knitting this shawl ... my lack of follow-through was due to two things: the incredible monotony of the long center section and my gnat-like attention span.

I assessed the situation. I only had 10 rows left before I could start the last chart. And the chart I had been stuck on (FOR FIVE YEARS) wasn't hard at all ... even with all four kids whirling about, I should be able to get through.

Yes. I COULD get through. I WOULD get through.

And I did.

Easy-peasy. The only thing issue I had while working was the niggling suspicion that once the project was (finally) done, I'd never wear it. I am short and round -- wrapping this thing around my shoulders was going to make me look like a squat blue mushroom. This shawl, I felt, wanted ... nay, NEEDED ... to be worn by a tall, statuesque blonde.

Fortunately, I happen to know one of those.

While we were in Chicago earlier this month, I gave the shawl to my friend Suzyn, who let out a gratifying gasp of delight and immediately tossed it around her neck.

The blue of the yarn matches the blue of her eyes, and on her it looks elegant and right. The shawl is home, and I have -- at long last -- finished The Amazing Lace.

You all know how I love a happy ending.

*******

"Let me tell you the secret that has led me to my goal. My strength lies solely in my tenacity."

-- Louis Pasteur

Up on the roof

2011-08-23T09:54:00.004-05:00

We had a fierce storm last Friday. High winds and driving rain left branches, trees and power lines down all over town.

Aside from needing to empty the buckets in the attic (new roof this fall!) and sweep leaves and mud off our driveway and sidewalks, the worst thing that we had to deal with was a slew of sizeable willow branches on our family room roof. My first plan was to call a handyman and ask him to take care of them ....

and then I remembered that I have a teenager.

Yesterday afternoon Eldest spent about half an hour clearing and sweeping the roof.

The younger ones thought this was AMAZING.

It took all of 30 seconds for Eldest to press them into service.

One was content to do his part from the ground ....

one was not.

"What do you mean, I can't go up on the roof, too?!?"

Sometimes she wonders how I can sleep at night.

College shopping

2011-08-19T10:14:00.019-05:00

Eldest is going to be a senior in high school this year, so since our itinerary took us within spitting distance of several Quality Institutions of Higher Learning, we spent several days of our vacation on college tours.

He is not sure what sort of school he wants, so we used this trip to see a variety of settings. We visited a big university in a medium sized town, a small college in a small town, and another small college in an even smaller town. Just a few of the things we learned:

It is probably not a good idea for a tour guide to spend too much time describing all the wacky hijinks his friends get up to when they’ve had too much to drink.
When choosing which dorm room to show prospective students, it would make sense to choose one that doesn’t smell funny.
Even if the tour-ees don’t blanch when the guide makes a slightly off-color joke, it’s probably best not to mention the school’s annual Condom Races. There are some things parents really would prefer not to know.
Cafeterias have changed a lot.
Dorm rooms have not.

Another thing we learned?

That under certain circumstances, I am a tour guide’s worst nightmare.

For the majority of the tours we took, I don’t think I was any more irritating than the average bear, although Eldest says that I embarrassed him by asking about Smaller Town College’s underage drinking policy. (“I won’t lie to you and say it doesn’t happen,” our guide said. “I wouldn’t believe you if you did,” I replied. “What I want to know is how the college handles it.”)

However, on the tour of my alma mater? For which I do alumni interviews? (A situation they may be rethinking as I type.)

I am ashamed to admit that I was completely obnoxious.

It started when our guide (who had trouble making eye contact) assured one of the other parents that there were no bad freshman dorms. “Really?” I asked. “They’ve renovated Huntley?”*

“Uh …. no,” he said. “It’s still pretty bad.” (The plans for the dorm in question were originally intended for a college in Florida. It’s hurricane-proof and designed to maximize air flow … both HUGE assets in the Upper Midwest.) (And the rooms are really small.)

I reminisced out loud about the brouhaha that greeted the college’s decision to install a semi-circular patio in front of the student union. “Why was it an issue?” one of the other parents wondered. I explained that at the time, students were upset about the loss of green space, but agreed that 20+ years down the line, it looks just fine. “Students here have always been very good at self-righteous indignation,” I said, as our guide laughed self-consciously.

A bit later I forgot how much I hadn't wanted to hear about Small Town's Condom Races and very helpfully described the annual college-wide spring party as a “bacchanal” (I will note that our guide did not disagree … he just quickly changed the subject).

My only defense is that he was doing a lousy job. He told us that most of the students spend at least a semester studying abroad, but then told us to get the program he wanted he had to coordinate with another school. He showed us the fancy new gym, the library, and a well-appointed biology lab, but didn’t go into whether or not there are any opportunities for students to do original research. I wasn’t the only parent of a kid interested in studying science, so I asked him if that was a possibility … he said it was, then marched us straight past the hall plastered with presentation posters without giving us a chance to see what KINDS of research students are doing. He talked so much about the natural science programs that the only humanities classes he had time for were the language programs (and didn’t mention the immersion language – or other special interest -- housing options available for upperclassmen.)

(Until I asked about them.)

(I told you. I am obnoxious.)

When I met up with Eldest afterward (this school sends parents and students on separate tours), I could tell immediately that his experience had not been any better. His guide had ignored the sciences in favor of waxing on too long about the humanities (at least he got to see the theater building), but what really turned him off was the campus’s one-sided political tilt.

The school has always leaned to the crunchy-granola end of the spectrum, but seems to be much more aggressively PC than it was when I was there. (“The majority of our students are involved in some sort of civic engagement!” we were told. Well that’s great ... but what’s wrong with simply saying “volunteer work”?)

Exhibit A, from the group information session:

Parent from Texas: What is the Libertarian presence on campus?

Peppy Admissions Person: *blink*blink*blink*

(silence while the group waits for a response)

Peppy Admissions Person: Well, I don’t think we have any Libertarians per se, but we do have a small student-run GOP group! (uncomfortable pause) And they’re very vocal!!”

Eldest considers himself an independent, and plans to cast his vote (when he’s old enough) for the person whom he believes to be the best candidate, regardless of political party. He wants to find a school where he feels at home, not just barely tolerated, and it was clear that my alma mater will not be that place.

I was disappointed. Not because I am upset that Eldest won’t be sending in an application, but that his time on campus left him with such a bad taste in his mouth. I spent four very happy years there, and hoped he could at least see why it had appealed to me. Instead, I ended up feeling like I had to defend the school, while fighting the suspicion that in some ways, it has become – or is being sold as – a caricature of itself.

What is important now, though, is that Eldest find the school that is right for HIM.

Wherever that may be.

loggia between the dorms at Smaller Town College

* name changed to protect the innocent

*****

p.s. Young'un and his friends decided that his tattoo stands for "I love d*rty und*rwear" (asterisks inserted to thwart icky internet searches).

Swing and a miss

2011-08-16T14:38:00.004-05:00

A traditional part of my younger children's Iowa State Fair experience is collecting the temporary tattoos that are handed out like candy in the Varied Industries building.

By the time we leave, the kids' faces and arms are littered with half a dozen or more brightly colored school mascots ... Cy the Cardinal, Herky the Hawk, a UNI Panther, and, Spike, the bright blue bulldog representing Drake University.

This year, however, the good folks at Drake decided to go in a different direction.

Anybody care to guess what Young'un and his friends have decided "DU" stands for?

(You have to think like a nine-year-old .......)

Hello again

2011-08-15T09:12:00.006-05:00

So much for my grand plan to post at least once a week!

We came home last night from our annual pilgrimage to the Midwest. The trip went very smoothly overall ... fantastically so in comparison to trips past.

Our flights were smooth and on time. The dog (who is too frail to take along, too frail for a kennel, but not yet dead) had a wonderful time at Camp DogSitter. No one was hospitalized (no one even ran a fever). The first van we rented had some problems, but we were able to exchange it with no questions asked.

We saw friends and family, went to museums and the Iowa State Fair, visited a few college campuses, and had plenty of time to swim, eat, and hang out.

Really, it was one of the best trips ever.

And now we're back.

If it's July, it must be time for some tests

2011-07-21T13:53:00.018-05:00

I woke up this morning and said to myself, "It'll all be over by noon."

"It" being the appointmentpalooza WB has had this week. We really have been stupidly busy ... Monday, she was with the Gastroenterologist, Tuesday, Cardiology, Wednesday morning she had a speech evaluation, and bright and early this morning we were at Children's downtown, where she had a chest x-ray (to check on something that was noticed during her April hospitalization) and a sweat test (to rule out Cystic Fibrosis).

Overall, all of these appointments have gone very well. Her GI doc doesn't need to see her again unless something comes up. The Cardiologist gave her a thorough going-over, and doesn't think we have anything to worry about. Her speech evaluation was a bit of a let down ... she's made a lot of gains in the last eight months, but she's still about as far behind "typical" as she was in November. We're not losing any sleep over this, ... that was the appointment where we learned she'd gone from greater than two years delayed to eight months delayed in just six months, so we think this is just a little plateau. The evaluation gave us some specific areas to focus on, which we will do.

She's not yet four. She'll catch on.

All that behind us, all we had left was this morning's appointment with Pulmonology. The day started well enough ... I managed to leave the house on time AND get onto Soliders Field Road inbound for the first time in all our visits to Children's, only to realize that once there I had no idea where to turn off. I drove in circles looking for landmarks for a while, before throwing in the towel and pulling over on some random side street to activate my GPS (which laughed derisively and told me to take the next right, because the hospital was three blocks away).

(I HATE when that happens.)

All that bumbling around Boston ate up the time I'd gained thanks to the relatively light traffic, so I decided it would be best to take advantage of the hospital's valet parking. As we pulled into the drive, WB lifted her head like a hound scenting a raccoon and said, "Oh! Here I get a balloon."

"You sure did, honey!" I said. Last MAY, I thought. Back when she was still communicating through a combination of sign language, about 15 words in something that resembled English, and bits of Chinese and Spanish she'd picked up from Kai-Lan and Dora. I promised to get her a balloon when we were through for the day, and we made our way up the musical staircase to the clinic, arriving with two minutes to spare.

WB is a real pro when it comes to doctor's appointments ... she's been to so many that she knows the routine like the back of her hand. She greets everyone with a wave and a cheerful "hello", knows where to go to get weighed and measured, and which offices have bubbles and coloring books, and which don't.

This time was no different. She didn't think much of sitting still for the x-ray, but she was a good sport about getting her vitals taken and a CHAMP when it came to getting set up for the sweat test, a process which involved sitting on my lap for five minutes while her skin was prepped with gel, which was then pulsed into her skin by a low-dose electric current, followed by getting her wrists wrapped in gauze and Saran Wrap, putting on her winter coat, and going outside for a stroll in 97 degree weather.

(By the way, you want to get some nasty looks? Bundle your adorable little moppet up six ways to Sunday and march her around in public for 30 minutes on the hottest day of the year. There were a whole lot of people in the area around Children's this morning who clearly wondered what the heck I was doing to my kid.)

The sweat test may not be much fun, but at least you don't have to wait for the results. 10 minutes after the gauze was removed from her wrists, the nurse practitioner was able to tell us that the child absolutely, positively does NOT have Cystic Fibrosis. This was such a relief (we didn't really think she had CF, but once the question has been raised you can't help but worry), that we weren't particularly fussed to hear that the x-ray still showed some areas of concern. What's a few more months on the inhaler in the grand scheme of things?

Needless to say, she got another balloon today (Hello Kitty this time). She deserved it.

The kid's a champ.

Sibling rivalry

2011-07-14T23:17:00.006-05:00

When you're nine and your older siblings are 15 and 17, you don't get to blaze a lot of trails.

Almost everything you do, someone has done before you. Excited about your newest Lego creation? Someone has built something just as big or bigger. Proud of yourself for figuring out long division? Your brother and sister are taking algebra. Discover a wonderful series of books about a boy wizard, his friends, their school, and a terrifying Dark Lord Who Shall Not Be Named?

Not only did they read the books years ago, they read them when they first came out. AND they got to attend midnight release parties at the bookstore!

So now the last movie is coming out, and your big brother is going to see it at midnight on the day it is released. You REALLY wish someone would take YOU to a midnight showing, but know better than to ask ... it's way past your bedtime, after all, and your parents are big believers in the importance of a "reasonable bedtime".

You resign yourself to following in your brother's footsteps AGAIN, and get your Mom to promise to take you to the movie Friday afternoon. It won't have that right-out-of-the-box thrill of the midnight movie, but it's almost as good.

And then .... a friend calls. His dad's company has arranged a special preview of the movie at 6:30P the night before it is scheduled to be released, and he can take one guest. Do you want to go?

!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This is such a big deal that you don't even made much of a fuss when your brother lays claim to the Gryffindor scarf Mom made for the release of the fourth movie.

it's held up well ... NatureSpun for the win!

You may be the one who looks like Harry Potter, but after all .... she made it for him.

(Back when he was a full foot shorter than he is today.)

hey, look who's in the red plastic bin next to the boy's right foot! Guinea pigs pop up in the oddest places.

Labor Day weekend, 1988

2011-07-07T12:38:00.012-05:00

My roommate and I had spent the previous week cooking and cleaning our apartment, because Leanne was playing Catherine in Pippin at the Theater on the Lake, and had offered to host the cast party.

We threw a lot of parties in those days, and they were always BIG. Lea and I had both been toiling in Chicago's non-equity trenches for several years, so we knew a lot of the same people; one of them was Peter, who had been in Showboat with me a year or so prior and had just recently done Applause with Lea. Left to my own devices I probably wouldn't have invited Peter ... he was very nice, but I didn't really know him all that well, and in those days I was shy about inviting people over unless I was more or less certain they would come. Lea, on the other hand, was a come-one-come-all sort of hostess, and basically invited everyone in her address book.

The big night arrived. The party was going to start late, as most of our guests (not to mention my co-hostess) were in the show and had to get out of costume and makeup before they came over. The plan was that I would hold down the fort at home and greet early arrivals.

Our friends Tom and Tracy were the first to show. I got them drinks and steered them to the food, then we just hung out, talking about this and that. It wasn't long until the doorbell rang. I buzzed the new arrivals in, and went to the landing to say hello.

A minute or so later Peter came up the stairs. Right behind him was a man I'd never seen before.

My first impression: "Oh, he's cute!" was followed immediately by "God, he's TALL", then "I hope he's straight."

(I will remind you that this was a theater party. My caution was not misplaced.)

Not long after that the cast showed up and the party kicked into high gear. I remember that Peter's friend (whose name was Brian) seemed to be watching me a whole lot, even if he didn't say very much. Brian remembers that I was wearing a blue skirt and loose top, and that the bottoms of my feet were dirty.

("You always say that!" I said when I asked him what stood out about that night and this was the first thing he could recall. "They were BLACK," he said defensively.)

As we talked, we realized that we were both working downtown, not far from each other. He suggested that we meet for lunch someday, and asked me for my number at work.

He called Tuesday morning before 10, and we had lunch the next day.

Six months later, he asked me to marry him.

Sixteen months after that, I did.

(Peter was his best man. Leanne sang.)

newly engaged

Best cast party EVER.

Happy anniversary, sweetheart!

I love you.

Unstoppable

2011-07-01T15:00:00.004-05:00

Taking what she's learned in the classroom ...

and using it in the real world.

10 on Tuesday

2011-06-21T11:56:00.007-05:00

I've been having trouble sleeping lately, which I attribute directly to the insanity that reigns supreme as the school year winds to a close. The last few weeks have included parent/teacher conferences, Team meetings, end-of-the-season performances, and decisions about camp and summer school ... which all had to be fit in and around the usual complement of lessons, doctor appointments and grown-up obligations.

It's all been a bit much, and I tend to manage by focusing on the meeting/event right in front of me and putting off until tomorrow the stuff that I don't have to deal with until ... well, TOMORROW ... which is really not the best strategy, as I consequently spend an inordinate amount of time fretting about details I have almost certainly overlooked (the next time I lecture one of my kids about the Evils of Procrastination I fully expect to get hit by the Lightening Bolt of Irony), which in turn winds me up so thoroughly I cannot sleep, leaving me so tired the next day that I can't deal with anything that isn't directly in front of me .....

It doesn't take long before things get pretty ugly. I cannot tell you how grateful I am that today is the last day of school.

BACK TO MY POINT, I was up late the other night and -- having blitzed lots of jewels, tended my virtual farm and read all I cared to on various forums -- was casting about for something to do ... so I decided to go back into my archives to see what was going on in my life this time last year. The first post I saw was the 10 on Tuesday list, Books On My Summer Reading List. As I reviewed the list, I realized that I only finished four of the ten (to wit: The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake [meh], Half Baked (yes), The Devil Amongst the Lawyers (another yes) and Glittering Images (every bit as good as I remembered). I wound up passing over the other books on my list in favor of losing myself in Justin Cronin's The Passage, an epic novel about vampires and a virus that nearly destroys the world (highly recommended, by the way, especially for those of you who like apocalyptic vampire fiction).

At any rate, the sight of my 2010 reading list, all bright, shiny and full of good intentions, got me to thinking not about what books I'd like to read this summer, but what books I would like to share with other people. A few titles popped immediately to mind, so without further ado, I would like to share with you .....

10 Books You Would Recommend to a Friend

The Physick Book of Deliverance Dane (Katherine Howe). A historical mystery which alternates between the Salem witch trials and the present day.

The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks (Rebecca Skloot). Henrietta Lacks died in 1951, but cells taken from the tumor that killed her were the first to be successfully reproduced in a lab, a development which led to some of the biggest breakthroughs in modern medicine. This is a tale in and of itself, but Skloot also examines the impact Henrietta's death -- and the discovery that her cells have lived on -- had on her family. The book is fascinating, poignant, and challenging.

The Book Thief (Marcus Zusak). The story of a girl, her friends and family in a working-class neighborhood in Germany during World War II, narrated by Death. The first time I tried to read this book I couldn't make it past the first few chapters, the second time I couldn't put it down.

The Graveyard Book (Neil Gaiman). It opens with a family being murdered in their sleep ... all but the baby, who escapes up the street, and is taken in by the ghosts who inhabit the neighborhood graveyard. The book follows the boy, called Nobody Owens, from infancy to young adulthood. It is a rich and thoroughly satisfying story.

A Prayer for Owen Meany (John Irving). One of Irving's best novels, it's the story of Johnny Wheelwright and his best friend, Owen Meany, and their childhood together in Gravesend, New Hampshire. It's hard to say more without giving away the plot, but the characters are memorable and the story meticulously told.

The Ballad Novels, beginning with If Ever I Return, Pretty Peggy-O (Sharyn McCrumb). I had never heard of these books before they were recommended to me by a librarian at Sulzer Regional Library in Chicago. I am ashamed to admit that at first I was inclined to dismiss them, based on "Peggy-O"'s wordy title and the author's name ("If she can't think up a pen name better than "Sharyn McCrumb", I sniffed, "how good a writer can she be?"). Well, her name actually IS Sharyn McCrumb, and she's a FANTASTIC writer. If you like good stories, lyrical writing and well-drawn characters, give her a try.

And Ladies of the Club (Helen Hooven Santmeyer). The book follows the lives of the members of a book club in small town Ohio from right after the Civil War until the early 1900s. Far from the best written book on this list, but it's a soap opera, and I find myself caring about the characters. Certain chapters can make my eyes well up every.single.time I read them.

The Adam Dalgliesh Mysteries (P.J. James). Mystery writing at its finest. VERY British.

The Hunger Games and its sequels (Suzanne Collins). Great action books. Read them before the movie comes out in 2012 and bastardizes the story.

The #1 Ladies Detective Agency and its sequels (Alexander McCall Smith). The books follow the lives of Mma Precious Ramotswe, her friends and family in Gaborone, Botswana. Each book centers around a mystery to be solved by Mma Ramotswe and her detective agency, but also focuses on the personalities of the people involved.

In the time it has taken me to write this post the last child has come home from school, which means that summer has officially begun in the Woolyheaded household. And not a moment too soon; this morning I called WB's eye doctor in a panic, because I thought I'd booked her appointment right in the middle of her class party, only to be told that she's not due there until tomorrow. Whew! I said.

Then this afternoon I moved heaven and earth to get a babysitter so I could take Her Ladyship to HER doctor's appointment only to get there and be told that .....

You guessed it. It's not until tomorrow.

I think I need some down time. Perhaps with a good book?

I'm open to suggestions.

Father's Day 2011

2011-06-19T16:46:00.004-05:00

Me: O.k., guys, tell me something that you love about your father.

Eldest: He's caring.
Her Ladyship: Devoted.
Young'un: And very organized.
WB: Two and three and ten and twelve milks.

Me: Good! Now, can you give me one word that describes your father?

Eldest: Particular.
Her Ladyship: Neat.
Young'un: Nice.
WB: Ice cream.

I think that about says it all.

Happy Father's Day, B!

With love from the whole gang

Some days are like that

2011-06-08T12:49:00.016-05:00

The end of last week was a challenge, what with doctor's appointments and after school activities and the washing machine's decision to just stop working altogether Thursday afternoon. Actually, while our schedule did include a greater than usual number of appointments and activities, resulting in a ridiculous amount of to-ing and fro-ing, it was the death of the washing machine that really pushed things over the edge. That, and the fact that the repairman couldn't fit us into his schedule until Tuesday morning.

We are a family of six, with an elderly, incontinent dog. We NEED a washing machine.

Monday was another appointmentpalooza, so I was looking forward to Tuesday. There was nothing on the calendar but knitting group late morning and Young'un's school conference at 4:30P, and since the repairman was scheduled to come before 12N, I was looking forward to spending the afternoon letting WB entertain herself while I caught up on laundry and finished The Book Thief. (The first time I tried to read this book, in early 2009, I wasn't able to get further than the bonfire a few chapters in. I know where I quit reading because I'd left a bookmark at the spot, and I know WHEN I quit reading because I recognized the yarn I used to hold my place as a strand of the Malabrigo worsted -- in the "Emerald Blue" colorway -- that I used to make this cowl, and my Ravelry project page tells me that I finished the cowl in January of '09. Why I can remember all of that but not what I made for dinner the night before last is beyond me. At any rate, once I picked up the book this time around, I couldn't put it down. It's FANTASTIC.)

So. Tuesday morning. We got up as usual, the kids all got out the door on time, preschool drop-off was uneventful, and I was back at home surfing the Internet and sipping coffee a full 10 minutes before the repairman was due to arrive. 45 minutes passed, and while the repairman had yet to show, I wasn't fussed; I closed my browser and headed toward the kitchen, intending to tidy up a little bit and put a pan of cinnamon rolls in the oven in anticipation of my knitting friends' arrival. I was halfway down the hall when the phone rang.

I glanced at it and noticed WB's teacher's name on caller ID. Warily, I picked up and said hello.

It is at this point that the day went to hell in a handbasket.

"Hi, Ruth, this is Miss D, calling from school," WB's teacher said. "First off, don't panic."

Oh, man.

"WB has had a little accident. Do you know the tree on the playground, closest to the fence? Well, apparently she was standing on the retaining wall next to it and fell, and her leg got caught between the tree and the wall. She's doing fine, but we can't get her free."

"O.k.," I said slowly, struggling to get a mental picture of what was going on. "Do you need me to come down?"

"Not right now," Miss D said. "We've called for help, and they should be here in a few minutes. I just wanted to let you know what was happening, and to tell you that we may need to cut the tree down to get her leg out."

"O.k.," I said again. I was having a hard time imagining WB being completely nonchalant about what was going on, but if she WASN'T fazed I didn't want to rush over there and make it a bigger deal than it needed to be.

Plus, I had a repairman and knitters to wait for.

"Well, keep me posted," I said to Miss D. "I can be over there in five minutes if she wants me."

I hung up the phone and wandered distractedly into the kitchen. I had just set the rolls into the oven to rise when the phone rang again. It was WB's teacher.

"Well, the firemen got her free!" she said. (Firemen?!? I had assumed they were calling the school janitor.) "The EMT is right here, and he'd like to speak to you."

This was sounding less and less like a no-big-deal sort of situation.

She handed the phone to the EMT, who introduced himself and told me that they hadn't had to cut down the tree after all (it would seem that four fireman > four preschool teachers when it comes to pulling trees aside to free a trapped three year old), and that WB had been upset when they got there, but was settling down and seemed to be using her leg pretty well. Her pulses were fine (PULSES?!? I'd been worrying about broken bones), but it was possible that once all the excitement died down she'd start having more trouble. He told me that they could take WB to the ER if I wanted, and ... wait a minute.

"You have the ambulance there?" I asked.

Yes, he said patiently. A fire truck, the ambulance, and a police car had all responded. So. As he was saying, they could take her to the local ER, or I could try to get her in to see our pediatrician sometime that day.

I was completely flummoxed. In the span of about 15 minutes I gone from looking forward to seeing my friends and getting my washing machine fixed to picturing my baby TRAPPED BY A TREE AND BEING FREED BY FIRE AND RESCUE.

"What would you do if it was your child?" I asked him. He hesitated, and I reminded him that I couldn't see WB, so I couldn't really tell if she was fine or not. I needed to rely on his judgement.

He paused a moment longer. "Can you meet us at the emergency room?" he said.

OF COURSE. I made sure someone could ride in the ambulance with WB, then hung up the phone and started gathering my things. While I searched frantically for my car keys (where the HELL had I put them when I got home from drop-off?), I called my neighbor Kathleen, who is in the knitting group, and told her what was going on. God bless her, she agreed to drop everything and come over to my house to let our friends in and wait for the repairman.

When I got to the ER I found WB sitting on a bed in an exam room. Her teacher was there, too, with her arm around WB's shoulders. I could tell that WB was working very hard to be brave, but as soon as she saw me her eyes spilled over and she began to cry.

"Mama, ma was stuck inna TWEE!" she wailed, as I gathered her up in my arms.

Within a few minutes, things had calmed down. Her teacher had hugged her goodbye and gone back to school, and WB had stopped crying long enough to show me the plastic fire hat she'd been given in the ambulance, and the toys she'd found in her goody bag from the ER. Her injuries were minor: some swelling, scrapes and red marks that will probably turn into very impressive bruises in a day or so. She's not limping and overall seems none the worse for wear.

The repairman called my cell just as I we turned out of the hospital parking lot, so I was able to get home in time to let him in. I wish I could say that WB's accident was only excitement we had yesterday, that the afternoon and evening unfolded without drama, but I can't. As it turned out, our uneventful morning had been the exception rather than the rule for the day.

Knitting was lovely, and the washing machine repair went smoothly, but first I smelled gas when I tried to run the dryer, then we discovered that the repairman had failed to re-attach the dryer vent before putting the machines back, so 10 minutes after I started it everything (and I mean EVERYTHING -- walls, cabinets, ceiling, floor) in my laundry room was covered in condensation.

By the time the repairman came back to fix the problem after school madness was in full swing, the house looked like a war zone, and I still hadn't figured out what I was going to serve for dinner. I dropped Eldest off at a graduation party, picked up something to grill, went home, started the charcoal, fed the smalls, and had just decided to turn a blind eye to the mess for a few minutes and sneak a glass of wine and a chapter or two of The Book Thief, when Eldest called asking for a ride two hours earlier than he'd said. It wasn't the end of the world, but I'd spent the whole day dealing with unexpected complications, and I had HAD IT.

I told him I couldn't be there for half an hour, turned on a video for WB, finished loading the dishwasher .... then sat down with my book and my wine and took 15 minutes to do what I wanted to do, when I wanted to do it. It wasn't much, but some days that's all you can hope for.

Even, I assume, in Australia.

Possessive

2011-06-06T15:12:00.003-05:00

Someone does not want to share the strawberries.

A Rose by any other name

2011-05-23T07:01:00.006-05:00

When last seen on the blog, progress on Samantha (Ravelry link) had ground to a halt, after I discovered that "Rose", the baby girl I thought I was knitting it for, was actually a little boy named Greyson.

This news did not knock the wind out of my sails right away ... I bound off the shoulders and started on the collar, but ran into trouble when I tried to finish the picots by sewing the stitches down live.

This did not end well.

Without an recipient in mind, I was in no hurry to try again. Not to mention the fact that a baby boy in Minnesota is still in need of a sweater -- a problem compounded by the fact that in figuring all this out, I had made my mother aware that a sweater for Greyson was forthcoming (and we all know where that will lead). Without further ado I consigned Samantha to stash purgatory and decided to knit some socks while I mulled over my options.

Two months and seven pairs of socks later, I was ready to try again.

I solved the problem of the collar stitches by binding them off before sewing them down (which had occurred to me the first time around, but I decided to try doing it as specified. Live and learn). Once that was done, everything else fell neatly into place. Two pretty little sleeves, a couple of short seams, a consult with Debbie the Button Whisperer at the Woolpack, and it was done.

And now that it was done, what was I going to do with it? It is a very pretty little sweater ... it seemed a shame to put it in a closet and wait for someone I know to have a baby girl. Well, to borrow a phrase from Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, I ended up looking no further than my own back yard.

O.k., my own front yard.

That is, the house across the street. Which happens to be the home of a little girl who is just the right size for Samantha.

It's as if I was knitting it for her all along.

12

2011-05-20T12:34:00.005-05:00

There have been times over the past few months that we were absolutely certain you would not be around to see this day.

But you proved us wrong.

Happy birthday, Duke!

(a.k.a. Duker D. Dog, Bubba, Goof, and Creaky Bones Jones)

Your family loves you very, very much.

Sisters

2011-05-16T12:05:00.015-05:00

With 11 years between them, it's not a surprise that my girls don't have a lot of shared interests.

The little one is a constant motion machine. She loves going on bike rides and playing outside on the swings. She plays with blocks and carries animal figures around in her little suitcase. She watches the Wonder Pets and Dora the Explorer, and wants Kitten's First Full Moon and The Very Hungry Caterpillar read to her at bedtime.

And oh, does she love horses.

Her older sister is quieter and more contemplative. She spends a lot of time drawing and searching out weirdly wonderful videos on YouTube. She is a voracious reader, who can chew through a five-book series in a matter of days, and expects to be taken to the book store the day a title she's been waiting for has been released, so that she doesn't have to wait a second longer than necessary to find out what happens next. She watches Law & Order and 1000 Ways to Die.

And oh, does she love horses.

Sometimes, having just one delight in common is all it takes to increase your delight in each other.

Well. THAT was fun.

2011-05-11T22:19:00.000-05:00

Friday:

Eldest had an AP subject test.
WB got the stomach flu. She was upset about being sick, but excited to A) be allowed to watch all the Dora her little heart desired and B) be given possession of the Big Green Bowl that is ONLY used during times of illness. In fact, she liked the bowl so much that she didn't want to do anything that might get it dirty.
Unfortunately, she no such compunctions about her bed, the couch, the rug, or HER MOTHER.
My mother-in-law arrived for a weekend visit.
The pollen count hit the stratosphere, and B's allergies kicked into overdrive. He would spend the next 24 hours on the couch.

Saturday:

Eldest had to be two towns over no later than 7:45A to take the SAT.
Young'un had karate.
WB hadn't vomited in 24 hours, but was still producing copious amounts of obnoxious fluids ... this time from a more southerly source, if you get my meaning (AND I THINK YOU DO).
B's allergies were still kicking butt and taking names.
Those of us still standing were washing our hands like Lady Macbeth.
Eldest appeared in the junior classes' entry in the "Class Play Competition" at the high school, which my mother-in-law and I attended. B was sorry to miss the show, but not only could he barely breathe, his eyes were swollen to mere slits, so he wouldn't have been able to see much of it anway.

Sunday (a.k.a. Mother's Day):

B's allergies were slightly better.
WB's issues were still unresolved.
Young'un and I accompanied my mother-in-law (who was being an incredible sport about the hash our various illnesses were making of her weekend away) to Mass. I'd never been to a Sunday Mass before, but was able to fake my way through responses, successfully navigated the trespasses/sins portion of the Lord's Prayer .... then outed myself as a Protestant by continuing on to say "for thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever" after everyone else had stopped talking. You should have seen the look I got from the little girl sitting in the pew just in front of ours.
Shortly after lunch, I started to feel queasy.
By 2P, I had to lie down.
I got up a few hours later and took Eldest to the grocery store to buy dinner fixings.
Then went home and took a nap.
Eldest made a lovely dinner, which I was totally unable to eat. I got one whiff of the scallions he'd added to the potato skins and had to excuse myself from the table.
My mother-in-law left at 9P. I went to bed at 10 ... and was able to sleep only a few hours before the virus hit in earnest.

I spent Monday on the couch. And my mother-in-law got sick on the plane ride home.

Are we the hostests with the mostests, or WHAT?

Moving in the right direction

2011-05-06T12:21:00.000-05:00

Guess whose hips looked REALLY good at her most recent ortho appointment?

Her hip angles are almost normal, and now that we've seen positive change two appointments in a row, it's looking like she's going to grow out of this without surgery after all.

Yippee!!

April showers

2011-05-02T08:05:00.007-05:00

It is May 3rd, and I have never been so happy to turn the page on my wall calendar as I was on Sunday morning.

Because April 2011 pretty much sucked.

From April 1-8, I juggled a birthday party, a service appointment for B's car, school, hippotherapy, a doctor's appointment, gymnastics classes (x 2), four nights of technical rehearsal for the children's play I was working on, and a karate workshop. I spent the better part of every day rushing from hither to yon, then, once there, cooling my heels until it was time to dash off again.

Meals were rushed, beds went unmade, and I was barely able to keep ahead of the laundry ....

but with all the waiting around, I was able to finish a pair of socks.

From the 9th to the 15th, there was another karate workshop, a play performace, a second birthday party, 24 hours in the hospital with WB, four doctor's appointments, regular karate classes and hippotherapy ... oh, and WB was home from school all week on doctor's orders.

I cobbled together some fairly odd meals out of food I had on hand in the pantry, ignored the clutter gaining a foothold around the edges of our living space, stared at the yard and thought, "We really should do something about cleaning that up" ....

and finished another pair of socks.

Week three was spring break. People needed me to take them to and from dentist, doctor, orthodontist and haircut appointments, as well as our regularly scheduled karate and gymnastics classes. Various children needed rides to friends' houses, or had friends over to play. We took family outings to North Bridge and the Higgins Armory.

The washer/dryer and dishwasher ran constantly, nothing got picked up until after dinner, I read (and LOVED) The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks ....

and finished a third pair of socks.

This last pair (which were for Eldest, and consist of legs one inch shorter -- and feet almost two inches longer -- than the ones I make for myself) absolutely FLEW off the needles. FOUR DAYS! I was shocked.

I knew better than to expect the boy to fall over with gratitude, but I wasn't expecting him to respond with SNARK. ("So when you say 'Your feet are too big to knit you more than one pair of socks per year', it's not so much that you CAN'T as it is that you WON'T?") (Hush, you.)

With three pairs of socks off the needles and a week left in the month, I decided to go for four. To up the chances of meeting my goal, I pulled a half finished pair of socks out of the stash closet.

Four days later ....

The end of April was slow, relative to the weeks prior, involving nothing more than school, the kids' regularly scheduled extra-curriculars, a long-awaited date night with my husband (we went into Boston to see the Handel and Haydn Society, and I've had Haydn's "Dixit Dominus" stuck in my head ever since), and another medical crisis for the dog, this one a consequence of his having snacked on one of WB's yellow robot socks. (He's better, but his cyst burst open again last night. Poor Bubba, he's had a rough couple of months.)

Since May is shaping up much like April (eight doctor's appointments, a concert, a visit from my mother-in-law, a play and Young'un's "friend" birthday party on the calendar already, and it's only the 3rd), I'm wondering how many pairs of socks I'll get done this month.

Anyone care to venture a guess?

9

2011-04-30T08:01:00.003-05:00

This is the most ebullient kid I know. He brightens my days.

Nine is mighty fine.

Happy birthday, Young'un!

Love,
Mom

A lagniappe

2011-04-26T14:15:00.011-05:00

There are Cookies who beg for treats ...

Cookies you make for a treat ....

and Cookies who send unexpected treats.

Damask, which was knit for me by the fabulous Cookie, out of yarn she spun with fiber from the Cupcake Fiber Company. It arrived on a very grey day earlier this month, when I was In A Mood, lifting my spirits and serving as a reminder that Spring would eventually arrive.

Thank heaven for friends and unexpected, perfectly timed treats!

To the bridge!

2011-04-22T11:05:00.004-05:00

After a lovely day Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday were cold and rainy, so when Thursday dawned clear, I announced to the children that we were going to GET OUT OF THE HOUSE AND GET SOME FRESH AIR TODAY, BY GOD.

Since I didn't make this declaration until lunchtime, time constraints meant that we had to go somewhere nearby. We are lucky to live in an area chock full of parks and recreation areas, but with Patriots' Day fresh in our minds (o.k., MY mind ... the kids were hoping I'd forget all about this crazy scheme and leave them to play computer games and watch videos in peace), North Bridge seemed a logical choice. It's outside, the grounds are huge, so the younger two could run off some stink, and it's educational.

Plus, there's a great ice cream shop nearby.

(That last bit is what really sold the idea.)

Decision made, the four of us headed out (Eldest had previous plans with friends). We stopped briefly at the Visitor's Center, then, with WB running ahead, made our way down the footpath to the bridge.

We spent 20 minutes or so playing Poohsticks ....

which was so much fun someone didn't want to leave.

There was cloud watching ....

and time for pictures ...

(even if not everyone felt like posing).

After an hour or so we were cold, windblown, and ready for ice cream, so we headed back to the car ..... some of us more willingly than others.

(I was so grateful Her Ladyship came along. Tag teaming makes it SO MUCH easier to wrangle an obstinate three year old.)

Patriots' Day 2011

2011-04-19T10:50:00.002-05:00

A weekend gang agley

2011-04-11T07:14:00.011-05:00

We knew it was going to be a busy weekend.

Saturday, in particular, was jammed full of activities: a karate workshop and friend's birthday party for Young'un, driving lessons for Eldest, a tutoring session for Her Ladyship, and a promised playground visit for WB. B and I formed a plan of attack for getting everyone where they needed to be on time, and I was planning to see the matinee performance of a local children's theatre production I'd been helping with vocal music. Any spare moments were to be filled with errands, meals and household chores.

We got off to a good start. WB had some cold symptoms on Friday and seemed to be breathing a bit quickly, so I began the day with two loads of laundry and a nebulizer treatment. A second treatment three hours later, then we were off and running. B held down the fort while the boys made it to their lessons on time, Her Ladyship went to see her tutor, I ran errands, then hightailed it back to the dojo in time to see Young'un's half-belt promotion ...

plus a special something he wasn't expecting ... he made it into the black coats!

Back home, I set WB up for another neb and checked her temp (fever? present! new wrinkle? noted!), then left her in her father's capable hands while I raced one town over to see the play. The show went very well, the kids' hard work really paid off (and I got to talk knitting during intermission with someone who saw me working on my newest pair of socks and -- it turns out -- shops at my LYS), but I was worried about WB, so I said my backstage congratulations as quickly as I could and hustled home to check on my girl.

When I got there, things were no better ... in fact, they were worse. She'd taken a short nap and was flying high on all the albuterol she'd had so far that day, so she wasn't ACTING sick, but there was no question she was working far too hard to breathe. I clocked her respiration rate at 70 per minute, shook my head, blinked, checked again ... then called the pediatrician, who told us to head to the ER.

It is human nature to second guess yourself in situations like this, and I have been over and over Saturday's timeline, trying to see a way I could have avoided that ER trip and (SPOILER ALERT) the subsequent overnight stay at our local hospital. I could have taken her to the doctor earlier in the day, but she wasn't sick enough at that point to cause undue alarm ... at our appointment this morning our pediatrician confirmed that if she had been seen, it is likely that they would have told us to stay the course and keep an eye on her. When I left for the play her respiratory rate was high but she wasn't retracting. Indeed, B says that she was sick but managing until right before I came home.

As soon as we were escorted straight from triage to a bed in the emergency room (Do Not Spend Time in the Waiting Room, Do Not Pay $200), I knew it was likely we were going to be there for a while. Add her terrible oxygen saturation and heart rates to an x-ray that was inconclusive for pneumonia, and it is not a surprise that she was admitted.

We had a rough night Saturday. She was receiving oxygen from a blow by tube (since the nasal cannula was an emphatic NON-STARTER) and every time she shifted in her sleep she moved away from the air flow. Then her saturation levels plummeted, the alarms on her monitor went off, and I jumped out of bed to fix the problem. This was happening every couple of minutes.

It wasn't long before I just climbed into bed with her, which A) gave her less room to move around the bed and B) made it possible for me to hold the blow by tube in position and get a little bit of rest at the same time. This plus breathing treatments every two hours and the constant activity in her room as her nurses kept tabs on her condition meant that she was the ONLY one who got any real sleep.

In light of how poorly the night went and her continued reliance on supplemental oxygen during the day Sunday, we were pretty sure we'd be in the hospital at least through today, but by mid-afternoon the second dose of prednisone kicked in and she started looking better. She eventually felt well enough to enjoy a visit from our neighbor, who came bearing some healthy snacks and a magazine for me, plus a butterfly balloon and sticker books for the girl ...

not quite clear on the concept

then, when the doctors tested her on room air alone, kept her numbers in a range that made it possible for her come home shortly after dinner time last night.

Today I took WB to the pediatrician, where he and I discussed a plan of action that will hopefully prevent something like this from happening again while she -- hopped up as she is on various and sundry medications -- rifled through the books in the exam room, weighed herself several times, checked out the contents of my purse, asked about the pictures on the wall, peeked at the contents of the trash can, tried to operate the doctor's computer, asked what was in every cupboard, showed everyone she met her purse and little blue cell phone, ripped the paper on the table to shreds, and sang one song after another. She's going to be home from school for the next several days.

I'm not sure the house is going to survive.

Moving on up

2011-04-05T11:00:00.005-05:00

We never planned to have WB share our bedroom with us for so long.

The plan was to move her in with Her Ladyship when she was six months old, figuring that she would be sleeping through the night by that point. When the time arrived, though, the girl was still nursing several times a night. I didn't want to risk her waking up her sister -- who had school, after all, and needs her rest -- so she stayed in our room, where B had conditioned himself to sleep (or FEIGN sleeping) through all manner of baby ruckuses and I popped upright every time she snorgled or sighed. Sleep deprivation became a way of life.

In January of '09, WB -- who was then 16 months old -- was liberated from the harness she'd been wearing to treat her hip dysplasia. And within two days she was sleeping through the night.

I pinched myself black and blue, then planned to move her into Her Ladyship's room during the February break. Her Ladyship was on board with the plan, but before we could get the crib moved, WB had an asthma attack that landed her in the hospital. It took a long time to get her breathing back to normal, then inertia set in, followed by more health issues ... and before we knew it, the child was three and a half and still sharing our room.

Last week, though, the big day finally arrived. The crib came down ....

turns out she's quite handy with a screwdriver, thanks to several viewings of "Wonder Pets: Save the Unicorn!"

and WB's big girl bed was set up in the room she is now sharing with her sister.

It's been a week since the change, and so far so good. Her Ladyship was ~~less than enthusiastic~~ ambivalent about sharing her space -- so much time had passed since we first talked about moving the girls in together that I think she'd allowed herself to believe that it was never going to happen -- but I think she's o.k. with it now; the first night of the new arrangement I went to check on WB before going to bed, and found Her Ladyship asleep on top of her covers with her head at the foot of her bed. The next morning she told me that she'd dozed off watching her baby sister. "WB's pretty darn cute when she sleeps," she said, by way of explanation.

So far, the only one who's having any trouble with all this is me. Having WB in our room made for a severe lack of privacy, but it was cozy, and as long as she was in the crib I didn't have to worry about her wandering around the house -- and possibly falling down the stairs -- in the middle of the night.

I'm adjusting, though. I no longer put my hand out to stop myself bumping into the crib when maneuvering around the room in the dark ... and after putting WB to bed Saturday night I was able to retreat to my bed for some quiet reading time, which was really very nice.

Sigh. My baby's growing up.

Oooooo ... maybe potty training will be next?!? Now THAT'S a transition I'd be more than happy to facilitate!

This one's for the knitters

2011-03-29T15:01:00.007-05:00

Knock, sock.

Who's there?

Opal.

Opal who?

Knock, sock.

Who's there?

Opal.

Opal who?

Knock, sock.

Who's there?

Opal.

Opal who?

Knock, sock.

Who's there?

Opal.

Opal who?

Knock, sock.

Who's there?

Fabel.

Fabel who?

Orange you glad I didn't use Opal again?

15

2011-03-23T09:19:00.011-05:00

A few years back, someone who had just spent several days with our oldest daughter took me to one side and said, "The box is not that child's natural habitat."

As her mother, I have to say: truer words were never spoken.

And I wouldn't have her any other way.

Happy birthday to my dreamer ....

I hope that all of your wishes come true.

Love,

Mom

Flummoxed

2011-03-17T09:09:00.014-05:00

Since finishing WB's Tuckernuck cardigan, my knitting has been at sixes and sevens.

I started a pair of socks using Petals, a merino/nylon/angora blend from Debbie Macomber. The yarn is BEYOND soft, the colorway I chose is a nice combination of white and shades of purple that seemed Spring-y enough, and everything was fine at the beginning. I cast on (soft!), knit an inch or so of ribbing, knit my way happily down the leg (soft! soft! soft!), turned the heel (oh, so soft!) and was almost at the toe when it hit me ....

The colors are lovely, they're a pleasure to touch and should be incredible to wear (did I mentioned the soft?) .... but they're not going to be particularly durable.

These socks have ANGORA in them. They have a visible halo. I do a lot of laundry every week ... I do not have time to spend hand washing my socks in lavender-scented fairy sweat. In this house, socks have to have enough intestinal fortitude to survive a trip through the washer (and, occasionally, dryer). Just waving these socks in the general DIRECTION of the laundry room would be enough to make them felt in self-defense.

I cast on a new pair of socks (using Regia this time ... Regia sock yarn is not intimidated by lackadaisical cleaning methods), but as much as I like the colors (and I really do), they aren't what you would call pretty. It's been a long winter, we have a ton of stuff going on here right now, and I want to be knitting something pretty.

I was staring into my stash closet, waiting for inspiration to strike, when I remembered. My cousin's son and his fiancee had a baby last month! A baby girl! Baby girl things are pretty! Oooo, and there -- right there -- were five balls of rose-colored Baby Cashmerino and the pattern for Kate Gilbert's Samantha, a match made in knitting heaven.

Perfect.

I cast on immediately, and knew right away that I'd hit the jackpot. The yarn is a treat to work with, and the pattern's balance of girlish frippery and stockinette kept me interested, but allowed me to knit on autopilot if necessary.

The back and left front fairly flew off the needles. I was just past the picot turning row on the right front when my mother called.

As they have a ton of stuff going on at their house, too, it wasn't exactly what you'd call a light-hearted chat. Mom and I touched base on the various issues of the moment, and then, to brighten the mood, I told her about the sweater I was knitting for my cousin's son's baby (who is, I believe, my first cousin twice removed ... is that right? I'll ask my mom. When it comes to how people are related to one another she's got a mind like a computer. I think it's a Southern thing).

ANYway.

My mother always loves when I knit for extended family, and she was delighted to hear about the sweater. "I think it's going to be really pretty, Mom," I bragged. "And I'm tickled to have found rose-colored yarn for a cardigan intended for Baby Rose."

"That is fun," Mom agreed. And then, after a short pause ...

"Are we sure the baby's name is Rose?"

"What? Of course we are!" I said, surprised. Another pause. "Aren't we?"

"I don't remember seeing that name," she said hesitantly.

"Well, where else would I get it?" I demanded, and proceeded to deconstruct the chain of events. "You sent me an email telling me about the baby, I responded asking if we knew a name, and you forwarded another email telling us the baby's name and that the everyone was healthy."

"I just don't remember seeing the name 'Rose'," Mom said. I heard clicking in the background as she turned to her computer and then, "O.k., I found the emails. Baby and mom are fine, everyone is excited, and the baby's name ...

is 'Greyson'."

There was a brief silence as this bit of information sank in.

"Do we have a middle name?" I asked, unwilling to concede the point. Names don't necessarily fall along traditional gender lines anymore ... Greyson could easily be a girl.

"Let me see," Mom said. "Oh, yes! Here it is.

The baby's full name is 'Greyson Michaelangelo'."

Well.

Shoot.

It's a lovely name, but I'm thinking that a pink, smocked matinee jacket with lace and picot edges is probably NOT going to work.

I'm going to finish it, though. I figure that SOMEONE we know will have a girl eventually.

__________________________

p.s. AHA! Still not sure where I got the idea that the baby's name was "Rose", but this is the email my mother sent telling me about the baby's arrival:

You all have a new cousin - first cousin twice removed!
M and his fiancee had a baby girl (emphasis mine) on Sunday. M is K and M's son. K is your first cousin - Aunt W's second child." (See what I mean about the family connections thing?)

It's good to know I haven't lost my mind ENTIRELY.

__________________________

p.p.s. Duke is doing much, much better. We have started calling him "Lazarus", a joke he does not appreciate.

Seriously, though, he's getting a little bit stronger every day, and we couldn't be happier.

We do love him so.

Cautiously optimistic

2011-03-10T18:33:00.002-05:00

Duke is home.

The cyst had been leaking clear fluid for a few weeks, which I had been treating with warm compresses. The theory is that the NSAID which he takes for his arthritis had also been half-heartedly treating the cyst; not curing the underlying problem, but keeping pain, fever and inflammation at bay. When we ran out of the NSAID, the infection was able to really take off, and and led to the situation we had this morning.

It is still possible that there is more going on, but we are going to start by giving him antibiotics for the infection and getting him back on his full medical regimen. If he is not much better tomorrow or the next day .... well. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

In the meantime, he's back where he belongs.

SUCH a good boy.

Thank you so much for your support and concern. It means a lot to all of us.

This old man

2011-03-10T12:50:00.006-05:00

is under the weather today.

If you'd asked me how he was doing last night, I'd have said, "Pretty well, considering."

Considering that his arthritis and nerve damage have gotten so severe that neither of his back legs function very well.

Considering that he has several accidents in the house per day.

Considering that he spends most of each day sleeping.

Considering that he's not hearing very well any more, so most visitors get all the way into the house without being properly greeted at the door. (When he realizes what's happened he gets all embarrassed and completely overcompensates, struggling to his feet while grinning as hard as he can and belatedly doing his best to making our company feel welcome by slobbering and shedding on them, then knocking them sideways when he moves too quickly and loses his balance. It's no use telling him that he doesn't need to get up ... he sees it as his duty to welcome visitors to our home, and welcome them he will.)

In spite of all that, for the most part he seems pretty happy. His hind legs got much worse right before Christmas, and we had a series of discussions with the vet about how far we were going to push treatment, tinkered with the dosage and timing of Duke's current meds ... and he rallied.

(I'm sure the change in his medical regimen made a difference. What I suspect REALLY did the trick, though, was changing his diet from a kibble/wet food mix to wet food only. While Duke was dismayed to realize that this dining option had been kept from him all these years, he was incredibly grateful that we'd finally gotten our act together and provided him with the food he hadn't even known he'd been missing. He went from picking sadly at his meals to checking hopefully in his dish every time he passed by and tottering eagerly into the kitchen when asked if he wanted to eat. I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say that changing his diet gave him a new reason to live.)

So for that last couple of months, things have been status quo. As the new drug regimen took hold his ability to get around actually got better ... he went from needing his hind legs supported when climbing the porch stairs, to no longer needing a physical boost (but still wanting us to provide moral support by standing next to him as he pulled himself up), to making it up and down the stairs without any help at all. I'd gotten used to being able to move freely about the kitchen during meal time ... sometime last month I realized that he'd been popping up under foot again while I cooked. After months of having to sweep under the table multiple times a day, he's once again taking an interest in hoovering up crumbs and helping the smalls dispose of any food they'd rather not eat.

I've gone from wondering how long we'd go without getting a new puppy to wondering how we'd manage taking him along on our summer vacation.

I remember being impressed with how well he got up and down the stairs when I let him out at bedtime yesterday, so was caught completely off guard when his response to being asked if he wanted to eat this morning was to remain motionless. I tried to help him up (he was on the family room carpet instead of his orthopedic bed), but he could not help at all ... he was just 94 pounds of dead weight. I managed to shift him a few inches, which is when I realized that he was lying in a growing puddle of urine.

I called B, who was able to lift the dog to his feet. After a steadying himself for a few moments, Duke moved slowly down the hall. I helped him outside, then back in, but he had no interest in breakfast ... just wagged his tail at me and headed back to his bed.

When I got back from running errands this morning, I found him right where I'd left him. I brought him food, which he ate, but then had another accident. I helped him back outside, put a new quilt on his bed, then went to clean him up before letting him back in. While I was washing him down, the cyst that burst last fall broke open again, releasing a stream of unhealthy-looking fluid.

I am taking him into the vet this afternoon. We are hopeful that treating the infection, plus getting his meds straightened out (we ran out of one the other day, totally my fault) will get him back on his feet, wobbly though they may be.

We are not ready to say goodbye.

Reunited

2011-03-02T20:43:00.003-05:00

Someone really missed her older brother while he was away.

How we spent our winter vacation

2011-02-26T00:04:00.001-05:00

Remember last week, when I was moaning about the 1:45A departure for Eldest's choir tour? I was pretty cranky about it ... not only was I sending my kid to another country (as in FAR AWAY FROM ME), I was having to stay up really, really late to do so.

As it happened, I fell asleep on the couch around 10P. Eldest woke me up so I could drive him to the bus, and I fussed at him about this and that on the drive to school (do you have your passport? will it be safe in that pocket? are you sure? you don't want to lose that, you know. did you pack sunscreen? do you have your swimsuit/bug spray/sunscreen/concert clothes? why don't you get a postcard to send to your grandparents?). He answered my questions so patiently that I could tell I was exasperating the heck out of him, so I wasn't really surprised when he tried to say goodbye with only a wave. I called him back with my arms outstretched ... the boy was about to go ACROSS AN OCEAN, I was not going to be denied my hug.

"Goodbye, have fun. I love you," I said.

"I love you too," he said. "Even though you're annoying."

And with that, he was gone.

The house was very quiet with him away. I had some half-formed plans to take the kids to a museum on one day, and perhaps fit in some one-on-one time with Her Ladyship and Young'un. I was worried that left to our own devices we'd just laze about the house all week, doing a whole lot of nothing in particular.

What I failed to take into account was how nice it can be to hang around the house for a few days with no deadlines to meet and nowhere in particular to be. We didn't make it to a museum, but we read books (I'm almost done with Alison Weir's The Lady in the Tower), got caught up on a few chores, played some video games (Her Ladyship got Kirby's Epic Yarn for Christmas, in which everything -- oh, be still my heart! -- is made of fabric or yarn. Things unravel. There are knitting needles. My getting sucked into this game was a foregone conclusion), and went through a lot of stickers and play-doh.

I did follow through on one of my plans; today I found a sitter for WB and Young'un, and Her Ladyship and I went to see a matinee showing of The King's Speech. It was really fantastic, both the movie and the time with my girl ... and I have to say that although I know I would have a good time out with Young'un, if there was only one Mom and Me outing to be had this week, I'm glad it was with Her Ladyship. 14 can be hard, and it was lovely to have some quiet, companionable time together. It's like money in the bank for the next time things are rough.

So that was our week. Eldest will be home sometime around 2A today (again with the wackadoo scheduling!), and on Monday the kids will be back in school and things will be as normal as they ever are around here.

Oh! I almost forgot ... one of us did a fair bit of knitting. Which raises the question: can a girl have too many sweaters?

Design C from Sirdar's "Little Speckled Chicks" (Raveled here)

Tuckernuck Cardigan (Raveled here)

(You don't need to answer. It was a rhetorical question.)

(But for the record, WB thinks not.)

The family that reads together ...

2011-02-22T10:57:00.002-05:00

April 2008

February 2011

About that rose ....

2011-02-18T11:07:00.008-05:00

So, after three days on antibiotics WB's strep throat is doing much better, but it has also triggered a very bad asthma episode. After 24 hours of very aggressive breathing treatments she's doing much better, but her doctor wants her to "rest" for a few days. Since WB is fever free and feeling pretty good, all things considered, what this means is that she's spending the day in her "Dora Nightgown Dress" and watching Dora's Pirate Adventure as much as she wants (sense a theme?), while I double check lists, do laundry, and dig out Eldest's passport; he's heading to Costa Rica with his high school choir during next week's winter break, and I have a LOT of organizing and fretting to do before his bus leaves for the airport at 1:45 Saturday morning, dear Lord, who books these trips?!?

But first, I promised to tell you about the rose.

Eldest and his girlfriend have been dating for almost a year and a half now. They had hoped to celebrate Valentine's Day by going out for dinner at a local restaurant, but had to revise their plans for two reasons.

They forgot to make a reservation, and
They have no money.

Switching gears, Eldest asked if he could invite his friend for dinner at our house instead. "Sure," I said, "but I can't imagine that eating with all of us would be particularly special."

Eldest agreed. Having her over to share a family meal wasn't exactly what he had in mind .... what he wanted to do was cook dinner for her BY HIMSELF, and share the meal privately, while the rest of us made ourselves scarce. "Have at it," I said. "You know your siblings won't mind having dinner in front of the t.v."

So, with minimal assistance from me (I gave him permission to use two of the filet mignons we had in the freezer, drove him to the grocery store to shop for the rest of the meal, and borrowed a card table from a neighbor when he realized that our 5-foot folding table didn't suit the atmosphere he was going for), my 17 year old set up the meal in the living room ... card table covered with a floor-length cloth, candles in crystal candlesticks, nice dishes and good flatware, a fire crackling in the fireplace, and one perfect pink rose in a vase as a centerpiece. He then cooked a more-than serviceable meal (filet mignon with whiskey cream sauce {recipe courtesy of The Pioneer Woman Cooks}, with salad and macaroni and cheese*, ending with a dessert of vanilla ice cream and strawberries.

After dinner they watched t.v. for a bit, while I (noisily) cleaned the kitchen and popped in to make a comment or ask a question at random intervals, just often enough to keep the evening from getting too romantic (I was willing to let him set up a bistro in my living room, but there are limits).

After she went home he thanked me for my help and headed off to finish his homework, clearly content with the way the evening had gone.

It was very, very sweet, and much more special than dinner at a crowded restaurant would have been.

I hope he will always be so thoughtful in his relationships, and lucky enough to be with someone who appreciates the effort.

******

* Apparently the two of them have been wondering what would happen if you mixed several different boxes of macaroni and cheese into one ... so that's what he did. They agreed that if he ever makes that meal again another side dish -- like mashed potatoes -- would work better, "but still ... it was macaroni with FOUR CHEESES!" his girlfriend exclaimed. "Four powdered cheeses," I said. "But still good!" they insisted.

I'll take their word for it.

What do you mean this isn't for me? It's pink, isn't it?

10 on Tuesday

2011-02-15T14:45:00.016-05:00

WB spent most of the weekend battling strep. She fell sick on Friday afternoon, went to the doctor on Saturday, where a rapid strep test and chest x-ray (for pneumonia) were both negative, and spent the rest of the weekend in my arms, doing her best imitation of a wrung-out washcloth.

A very HOT wrung-out washcloth.

Poor baby. She really was very pathetic.

She was a bit better -- but still sick -- on Monday morning, and I was trying to decide whether or not to call the pediatrician when they solved the problem by calling ME to say that the two day culture was positive. One prescription and a day later, we are nearing the end of the "fever free and on antibiotics for 24 hours" window, which means that the loud cheering sound you will hear emanating out of New England at 8:45 tomorrow morning will be me, celebrating the fact that (barring a setback in the night) WB will be back in school, HALLELUJAH.

Mind you, I don't begrudge the child a second of the time I spent with her this weekend, even though doing so meant that most of what I'd planned to do went undone. She needed me (well, me and a swig of azithromycin), and I was happy to be there. But she was much, much better today, and wanted to do her own thing, leaving me feeling at sixes and sevens. Many of the projects I want to tackle are really best done with her out of the house (she either tries to help or waits until I absolutely can't stop what I'm doing to get into Something Dangerous) .... so I spent today putting the finishing touches on a cardigan I'm knitting (for her) and surfing the Internet.

What? What's that? You want to know what on EARTH this story has to do with 10 on Tuesday?

Hold your horses, I'm getting there.

As I said, I've spent a lot of time today surfing the internet, which has given me plenty of time to think about today's topic: "10 Favorite Non-Knitting Blogs".

(See? Trust, people!)

I actually read a fair number of blogs that have nothing whatsoever to do with knitting; I am an inveterate link-clicker, and am easily pulled into a compelling story. Drama alone can't hold my attention for long, though ... what brings me back again and again over time is good writing. Give me a well-turned phrase or two and I'm weak at the knees and wanting more. Toss in some pretty pictures, and you're bookmarked.

Here are a few of my favorites:

Julia. I started reading Julia's blog when she and her husband were trying to have a second child. Remember when I said I like a good storyteller? Julia is a master.
Flotsam. I can't remember how I found my way to Alexa's blog, but I've followed her for several years now. Alexa's book is the one I went out of my way to buy during our trip to Iowa last summer. (Huh ... I just went back in my archives to link to the story, and realize that I never told it. Long story short: I took a detour to Prairie Lights in Iowa City on our way to Des Moines so that I could buy a copy of the book on the day Alexa was scheduled to be there for a reading. I was several hours early, so didn't get a chance to see her, but still! I had my copy DAYS before it was available in a bookstore near me! I thought it was totally worth it ... as did the children, since I secured their cooperation by buying books for them, too.)
Ali Blah Blah. I found Ali when Julia linked to her in May of '09. She described the ensuing uptick in her blog stats as "a bit like coming home and finding 100 people on your couch nattering and having a cup of tea", and I was instantly charmed.
BooMama. Sophie is funny, funny, funny, I love reading about her life with her husband and son ... and dear Lord, can this woman deconstruct a pageant.
The Itty Bitty Kitty Committee. Laurie and her husband Craig foster kittens for their local humane society, with the help of Charlene Butterbean, their feline-mentor-in-residence. The kittens are adorable, photogenic, and very easy to love.
The Spohrs are Multiplying. I found Heather's blog after the death of her beloved daughter Maddie, and have stayed as she and her husband Mike balance working through their grief with the joy they have found since the arrival of their second child, feisty, funny Annabel.
Tom & Lorenzo (Project Rungay). I probably would have stopped watching Project Runway two seasons ago if it weren't for these two.
Miss Doxie. Cookie and the Geese. 'Nuff said. (But not really. Read her archives.)
The Wonderwheel. Jordan is a friend of a friend, and went to the same college I did (albeit many years later), which means that she is Good People. She also writes lovely, thoughtful posts about life, work, and raising children.
The Pioneer Woman. Ree is going to be on a lot of these lists, and for good reason. Good writing, beautiful pictures, great recipes. I mention her last because she is tangentially involved in the story I have to tell you about this rose ....

Which will have to wait, because I just realized it's way past my bedtime.

This week, I promise.

In my own time

2011-02-08T08:16:00.010-05:00

This story begins in October of 2008, when, in the process of sorting through the stash, I found a box containing a purchase I made early in my knitting career.

You see before you two cones of Peace Fleece worsted (colorway "Kamchatka Seamoss"), purchased without a project in mind, just because they were having a sale and the price was right.

As it happened, right before I re-discovered this yarn, I bought a copy of Lisa Lloyd's wonderful book, A Fine Fleece. I'd knit one of her patterns before, but had no sweater to show for it (the finished sweater was lovely, but I was completely jerked around by the gauge goddess), and was still hankering after a comfy cabled cardigan/jacket to call my own.

As I ~~drooled over~~ perused the patterns in A Fine Fleece I was drawn again and again to October Frost, a heavily cabled cardigan. The pictures -- while very pretty -- do not show the sweater in its entirety; in one the sweater is folded, the other (which contains two sweaters) shows one hanging off a chair, with the second folded on the seat in front of it, and there are no pictures of the back at all ... but what I could see seemed to be exactly what I was looking for, and a perfect match for the Peace Fleece I had just re-discovered.

I cast on and started knitting.

Looking back, it was the wrong project for that time in my life. Everything else I made during those months was small and (relatively) quick; the biggest project was a stranded sweater for WB, who was one at the time, and relatively petite ... knitting a sweater in her size didn't take long.

Complicating the matter was my decision to complicate the matter. As my vision for the sweater was "comfortably oversized" -- and with the gauge issues that torpedoed my Fylingdales cardigan in the forefront of my mind -- I decided to knit the largest size and cast on extra stitches on the front and back to make sure I didn't miss the mark. I also planned to add a repeat or two to the sleeves (taking pains to write down exactly what I'd done), to ensure that they would be long enough to pull over my hands in cold weather.

I started off gangbusters; the yarn and pattern were perfectly suited to one another, and the first sleeve flew off my needles. I took a week's break and started on the second sleeve ... which is when everything ground to a halt.

The notes I had been so careful to take when lengthening the sleeves proved to be completely worthless. I stopped on row 8 of charts E and F and row 4 of chart A ... or was it row four of chart A and row 16 of E and F? ... or was that 8 a 6? Who knew? I'd used some sort of color coding method, but the Post-it note on which I'd recorded what the colors meant had disappeared. Frustrated, I ripped up the now-meaningless Post-its littering the pattern, jammed my needles into the sweater with unnecessary force, and stuffed the project back into the back of the closet.

Which is where it stayed until November, 2010, when I decided to break my self-imposed ban on KAL participation and join NaKniSweMo. I'd had success frogging, reclaiming and re-knitting the yarn I used for my Olympic project, and decided -- with no justification whatsoever -- that the time had come to do the same for October Frost.

Half way through the month I lowered my sights from completing the sweater to simply finishing the knitting -- and even then I blew the deadline by four days. Exhausted and free of external deadline pressure, I then took another two and half months to sew it together and knit the collar and button bands ... but despite the fact that I didn't completely finish my NaKniSweMo 2010 project until February 6, 2011 ....

finish it I did.

And it was worth the wait.

10 on Tuesday

2011-02-01T20:14:00.004-05:00

This week's topic is "10 Things on Your Bedside Table", to which I say ...

Only ten?

My beside table (actually a dresser) is where flotsam and jetsam go to die. Here goes, from left to right, but in no particular order of importance:

Drawing done by Her Ladyship, in honor of my most recent birthday.
Behind the drawing, the fan without which I cannot sleep during the summer.
A container of anti-itch spray.
Burt's Bees Coconut Foot Creme. Which works beautifully, when I remember to use it.
My alarm clock. It's from LL Bean, and flashes lights at me to wake me up. It's the gentler way to go about it.
A pair of swim goggles. I have no idea why (or when) those landed there.
Prednisone and Albuterol in liquid form, if WB and/or Young'un need a nebulizer treatment in the night.
Part of Eldest's bed frame. This one baffles me.
A thermometer labeled "dog". Again, not sure how this one ended up upstairs, but I must remember to take it back down before someone needs their temperature checked in the middle of the night.
Books. And a flashlight to read them by if I wake up and can't sleep.

Methinks I could stand to do a little decluttering.

Party time

2011-01-31T07:31:00.005-05:00

Yesterday was a special day in the WoolyHeaded household, and we celebrated in fine style.

Dinner was filet au poivre with creamed spinach and mashed potatoes, recipes chosen by me via the Pioneer Woman Cooks (her recipes have a high success rate in our house, but be warned ... the woman never met a stick of butter or quart of heavy cream she didn't like) and cooked with the able assistance of my two sous-chefs, Eldest and Her Ladyship (Eldest's mashed potatoes were a particular hit).

There was cake (with candles very carefully placed by WB, then lit by Young'un) and presents ... oh, how I do love a good family birthday party!

So happy birthday, B!!

With love from the whole gang

The snow snow snow came down down down

2011-01-27T20:40:00.013-05:00

If I took one thing away from NaBloPoMo in November, it should have been that sometimes you just have to sit down and start typing. I have several stories bouncing around in my brain, but have been having a very hard time getting them from thought to the virtual equivalent of paper. An idea comes to me, I spend a day or so thinking about how I'm going to approach it, take some pictures to illustrate the post ... and then spend the time I've set aside for writing blog hopping, playing Zuma or tending my virtual farm.

Once a procrastinator, always a procrastinator, I guess. I did the same thing in school, if you substitute hanging with friends and watching t.v. for goofing off online.

The weather we've been having has not helped. The last three weeks have included three snow days plus a holiday weekend, and between storms it's been horribly cold, the kind of cold that stiffens my joints and slows my wits.

So I've been off schedule, surrounded by my (deeply beloved, noisy and demanding) children, and cold, cold, cold. Makes it kind of hard to write. (Or, for that matter, finish a pair of mittens. Although I'm enjoying my moderating duties and have been inspired by the many beautiful mittens being produced by the KAL members, from a personal productivity standpoint, NaKniMitMo '11 has been very frustrating.)

We had ANOTHER snow day today, after a Nor'easter dumped a foot of snow on top of the three feet or so already on the ground. We spent the morning hanging out in our pajamas ...

some of us wore our new socks

and the afternoon digging out. You guys, we have So MUCH SNOW.

Our neighbors loaned us their snowblower, which moved the process along considerably, but there was only one way to remove the 5' high by 3' wide barricade the plows created at the end of the driveway. The smalls helped Eldest, Her Ladyship and me chip away at the pile for a surprisingly long time ...

before tiring of the chore and wandering off to plow trails in the front yard.

Now, because our house is so close to the street, the unfenced front yard is usually off-limits for play, but today it was fine with me.

Today, they were being protected by Nature's baby gate.

Thrumthing got me started

2011-01-18T17:19:00.009-05:00

The kids had Monday off for Martin Luther King day and a snow day today, so we're all feeling a bit punchy.

I spent yesterday watching as much of the BBC America marathon of The Tudors as I could (Young'un showed an unerring instinct for coming to find me at the exact moments when the characters were either tumbling into bed with one another or getting their heads chopped off. I spent at least half of every show switching channels abruptly). While I watched I worked on what I hope will be my first successful NaKniMitMo project ....

During the commercials, I entertained myself (and bugged my children) with terrible puns.

"I want to be starting thrumthing!" I sang at Eldest.

"What?" he asked, pulling his head out of his computer game.

"And ... I found thrumbody to love!" I informed him with my best R&B growl.

"Mom, you're not making sense," he said.

"Thrumwhere over the rainbow!" I warbled.

"You need to get out more," he sighed, putting his headphones back on.

And I will, if this snow ever stops.

(note to the non-knitters who read the blog: a "thrum" is a little bit of fleece that is knit into your project every few stitches. It's the bright, soft bits you see in the picture above, and will felt with wear, making the inside of the mittens very soft and very, very warm.)

Misadventures with mittens

2011-01-14T15:13:00.004-05:00

National Knit Mittens Month (NaKniMitMo) is here, and things are going great guns over in the Ravelry group.

Wait. I probably lost some of you there, didn't I? Let me back up a minute.

Two years ago, my friend Carol decided that she wanted to knit mittens in the month after Christmas, and wrote a blog post asking if anyone wanted to join her. A bunch of people -- yours truly included -- said yes, and one day I asked her if she wanted to start a group on Ravelry, to serve as a central message board for the knitalong.

She asked me if I wanted to come on board as co-moderator, and we were off. We had about 300 people knitting along that first year, and the numbers have been climbing ever since ... as of today, the NaKniMitMo group is over 800 knitters strong, and the finished mittens have started rolling in. Mittens are a favorite project of mine, and I always find a lot of inspiration -- and temptation -- in the pictures people post; wonderful color combinations, patterns I haven't seen before ... I have a hard time not casting on a new pair every other day. Even so, I usually end the month with several half-completed pairs of mittens on the needles, beautiful projects that wind up languishing in the stash closet only because something shinier came along and managed to catch my eye.

This year, I decided that I had a RESPONSIBILITY to finish some of these mittens before starting anything new. I liked these patterns well enough to start them in the first place, wouldn't it be nice to get them off the needles and into the mitten basket? PLUS, one of my intentions for this year (love that way of looking at things, Carole!) is to reduce the clutter in our house ... tackling the half-finished projects in my stash closet would be a sensible place to start.

The first project bag I pulled out contained the Swedish Fish mittens I started in December of '09. The first one was done in a trice ... I'd abandoned the project two rows before starting the decreases at the top. I can no longer remember why I didn't finish these mittens in the first place, but it may have had something to do with the needles. I had been using Inox dpns, which I normally love, but seem to be a bit slippery for this yarn.

Now, I know that it's a bad idea to switch needles in the middle of a project, but I thought that switching from dpns to magic loop wouldn't be disastrous. I'd use my Addis ... they're still metal and slippery, but less likely to allow stitches to drop off willy-nilly. I'll know to use my bamboo needles the next time I work with this yarn, I said to myself, and in the meantime, I'd found the happy medium.

Except not.

Back to the closet they go.

What he said

2011-01-11T19:12:00.004-05:00

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart

Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c

Arizona Shootings Reaction

www.thedailyshow.com

Daily Show Full Episodes

Political Humor & Satire Blog

The Daily Show on Facebook

17

2011-01-07T23:35:00.005-05:00

Happy birthday to a boy who has ALWAYS known how to wear a hat.

Love,
Mom

Looking over my shoulder

2010-12-30T23:35:00.009-05:00

In my world, 2010 was the year for small projects.

I didn't cast on anything larger than a baby sweater until August, when I started an Ella Funt cardigan for WB (Ravelry link). I had gauge issues from the start -- this was meant to be a stash busting project, so I was bound and determined to make the Rowan Wool Cotton I had on hand work, even if it meant that the finished sweater would come closer to a size 5 than the 2T WB is currently wearing -- and although I made great time at the beginning, the project fell off my radar once school started.

In the interest of clearing my slate before the beginning of 2011, I made a promise to myself to finish both Ella Funt and October Frost (all done but the finishing) during this vacation week, in order. I've had less knitting time than anticipated, so October Frost is still in pieces, but as of 1:00 this afternoon, WB's "Pink Ella Funt" sweater is done.

Presenting: my last FO of the year.

Thankfully, "comfortably oversized" is a look WB wears well.

*****

And, as has become a tradition .... my year in a nutshell, as evidenced by the first sentence of the first post of each month.

January: WB first tried to make me believe that she'd finished her nap by making fake snoring noises, followed by a short pause and a cry for release.

February: My Anna's Mittens (Ravelry link) project bag turned up after a completely preoccupying day-long search.

March: It was a dramatic race to the finish of the 2010 Ravelympics.

April: Today is the first sunny day in over a week, and frankly, it comes just in the nick of time.

May: Look what was going on across the street from my house this afternoon.

June: Yes, yes, yes .... I've knit another stuffed animal.

July: If you’d looked up “sloth” in the dictionary at any point over the last few weeks, I’m pretty sure that the accompanying illustration would have been a picture of my house.

August: A particularly timely ToT this week, as our annual trip to the Midwest is just around the corner.

September: It still is, although I am aware that my posts have been fiber-free for a while now.

October: We have been watching the FEI World Equestrian Games this afternoon, and now that the thrills and spills of eventing are over, we've moved on to the (pre-recorded) Freestyle Dressage competition

November: Another Halloween has come and gone.

December: I didn't intend such an abrupt ending to NaBloPoMo.

*****

Thank you so much for continuing to read, for your comments, and your support. I am looking forward to seeing what 2011 will bring.

Wishing you and yours a very, very happy New Year!

Who says miracles can't happen?

2010-12-30T13:00:00.007-05:00

I hate shopping for new glasses almost as much as I hate buying a new swimsuit.

Not only do I usually have to go through 17,428 frames (on average) to find the one that doesn't make my face look fat or my eyes squinty, since I do not own a pair of contacts I have to do so while being unable to see. It's a tortuous process, and after an hour or so I am completely burned out and wind up throwing myself on the mercy of the optician and/or any other people in the shop at the time. As a result, I am all too familiar with buyer's remorse as regards my eyeglasses; but since they cost a whole lot more to replace than a swimsuit, I usually wind up living with them until my eyesight disintegrates to the point that I can no longer avoid going through the whole painful ordeal again.

I bought my last pair of glasses during the last week of December, 2008, and while I was never totally in love with them, they were good enough to live with. The frame snapped over Christmas weekend 2009 (that would be LAST YEAR), and I was exceedingly cranky about having to spend the time and money to replace them ... until I took them into the optician and discovered that they were under warranty -- a warranty that was set to expire in TWO DAYS -- and that the manufacturer would give me new frames for free. Since my prescription was still working, all I had to do was sport duct tape on my glasses for a little while longer, pop my existing lenses into the new frames when they arrived, and go along my merry way.

Fast forward to last Friday. We were at our neighbor's annual Christmas Eve party when I realized that my glasses were dirty. No sooner had I started to polish them on my shirt when the frame snapped ... in exactly the same place they had snapped just a year earlier.

You can imagine how happy this made me.

I patched them up with packing tape and waited for the optician to reopen after the holiday. As it turned out, the new frames were not under warranty (it only applied to the original pair), but the optician was horrified that I'd had the same problem again so soon. "I'll call the company and see if the frames are still available," he said. "And if they won't take care of you, I will."

The frames were NOT available (they'd been discontinued. Gee, I wonder why?), so now I faced a conundrum. In the last year my vision has gotten progressively worse, to the point where I think I may need to move on to progressive lenses. I REALLY did not want to spend money on a whole new pair of glasses, only to have to replace the lenses in a few months when I see the opthamologist.

"Do you have any frames in stock that these lenses would fit?" I asked.

"Maybe," the optician said doubtfully, holding my glasses gingerly in his hand. "But I warn you, they'd probably be plastic and not very pretty. Why don't you take a look around, and if you find a frame you like that will work, I'd be happy to loan you them until you get a new prescription."

"But that could take a few months," I said.

"Not a problem," he said. "But you know ... even if we find a pair of frames in the right size, I'm going to need to keep your glasses for a few hours while I fit the lenses."

"I don't know how that will work," I said. "I can't drive without glasses, and these are the only pair I have." For the first time, I wished that we'd encouraged Eldest to get his driver's license as soon as he turned 16 ... he's taking Driver's Ed now, but until that moment in the optical shop, I'd been more than happy to have him safely unlicensed.

"I'm sorry," he said, sounding as if he meant it. Still holding my glasses, he moved to the wall of frames and started scanning the options. "Even if I had time to go through my entire inventory, the odds of my finding an exact fit are pretty small." He stared thoughtfully at the wall in front of him, then took a frame off the rack and compared it to my glasses.

"Unless," he said, "I manage to strike gold on the first try."

He disappeared into his workroom and came back three minutes later.

"A perfect fit," he said happily. "Here you go. You borrow these until you get your new prescription."

I stared at myself in the mirror. "I think I'd rather just buy them," I said.

Don't you just love it when things work out for the best?

The joy of giving

2010-12-27T23:34:00.009-05:00

I wasn't going to knit any Christmas gifts this year. I flirted with the idea of knitting mittens for WB's teachers and therapists, but then I realized that there are nine of them ... ten if you count the administrator (and if I'm including her, shouldn't I include her very kind and helpful secretary?) ... and came to my senses. WB loves these folks, and we appreciate them beyond measure, but my knitting time is hard won these days, and it was too easy to foresee a future in which I had mittens for only half of them and that wouldn't do at ALL.

So no hand-knit teacher presents ... that made life easier. Well. EasierISH. I am the room parent for WB's class, and sort of forgot that I was responsible for soliciting food donations for their Holiday Party and money towards a class gift. I spent last Wednesday trooping a progressively less cooperative WB through four stores -- none of which are in close proximity to one another -- in search of the items on the teacher's wish list. Despite the rush -- and the panic I felt as it started to look like I wouldn't have anything to give the teachers at the party the next day -- things turned out well in the end (although it may be a while before WB and I are welcome to return to that particular Wal-Mart. The child had a MAJOR meltdown in the checkout line. And entryway. And parking lot).

Back to my point, even though I wasn't going to do any teacher knitting this year, I was still itching to knit something for someone else. I really enjoy knitting for other people, and not knitting for some people didn't mean that I couldn't knit for ANYONE.

Besides, I had mittens on the brain. I made a pair of Holly Jeans -- another fantastic pattern from Mandy Powers' Red Collection (Ravelry Links) -- for myself ....

and have a mitten queue a mile long, so knitting another pair to keep would have been a completely rational thing to do ... but it just didn't sit right. Knitting things for friends and family is one way to show them that I care ... and Christmas was coming! It just didn't feel right to have the only projects on my needles be something I intended to keep.

So I asked Eldest if he would like me to knit a pair of mittens for the girl he has been seeing for a little over a year now. I was loath to step in where I wasn't needed (he has done a stellar job at gift-giving since they started going out, managing to strike the fine balance between "I like you" and "waaaay too much"), but she's a great girl, and I wanted to do something for her.

I was thrilled when Eldest thought that a pair of mittens was a good idea. We got as far as picking out a pattern and thinking about colors, when he came to me with a question.

"Mom," he said hesitantly, "I know she'll appreciate and use mittens .... but what she really likes is socks. Would those be too much work?"

Heck no! He could even choose the yarn.

(colorful ... and they glitter!)

Once the gift-knitting barrier had been breached, I found myself adding a few more things to the list.

Last year I knit a Habitat hat for a family friend who at the time had just been diagnosed with brain cancer. Word quickly filtered back that he loved the hat, and when my parents were here last Spring they wanted to see what I sent. I showed them a picture, and offered to make one for Dad (with no promises as to when it would be delivered. "By winter" seemed doable, but things are done when they are done ... it's best not to get all hung up on a particular date). I'd bought some Fleece Artist Blue Faced Leicester at Rheinbeck the previous fall, and he agreed that it would be a good fit for the pattern, so I set the yarn aside lest I accidentally use it for something else, and went on my merry way.

As I said, the plan was to make the hat for him before the end of this winter, but once I decided to do some Christmas knitting after all, naturally Dad's Habitat came to mind.

If I knit something for dad, I couldn't very well leave Mom out in the cold.

And hey! Didn't Eldest say he'd wear a hat if I made one for him?

(The conversation actually went like this:

Me: You never wear the sweater I made for you two years ago.

Eldest: I wore it once.

Me: For the picture!

Eldest: No, I wore it to the Senior High retreat. And it itches.

Me: It looks really good on you. And I made it with discontinued wool.

Eldest: I don't like sweaters.

Me: But I like making you sweaters!

Eldest: You can make me all the sweaters you'd like. I just won't wear them.

Me: *sputter*

Eldest: I'd wear a hat.

Me: Deal.)

He wore the hat for the first time today, while shoveling out from the snowstorm that hit last night. You will note that he is also wearing a hand made scarf ... and while it pleased me no end to see him using and appreciating two hand knits at once, that scarf is MINE.

I'll give you one guess what he's getting for his birthday.

Christmas Eve 2010

2010-12-24T10:00:00.007-05:00

'Twas the day before Christmas, when all through the house
The people who lived there did their best not to grouse.
The stockings were still draped over Mom's chair,
The pine tree was up, but its branches were bare.

The children were buzzing, all hyped up and eager
While their parents checked lists and felt all beleaguered.
The cards and the baking were still to be done
Mom fretted while kids dreamt of next-morning fun.

Dad's afternoon was spent doing last-minute shopping
With Smalls so excited they were literally hopping.
With time running out Mom made a decision ...
To survive this her plans would need a revision.

To grand decorating she'd just call a halt ...
A simpler Christmas would be theirs by default.
The kids worked together to garnish the tree
While Mom thought and sipped on her morning coffee.

The village will spend this year safe in the attic
('Twill be missed, but WB would surely attack it).
Maybe one batch of cookies, no wreath on the door,
No lights in the window, no train on the floor.

But the day will be filled with good time together
We can sled in the yard if allowed by the weather.
We'll play a few board games, spend time on the Wii,
Light a fire in the fireplace then sit still and read.
There's ham for our dinner, and pie for dessert
That there are no fancy candies will really not hurt.

And while it is tempting to try to go big
In the long run those trappings don't matter a fig.
When my kids think back on this Christmas day
There is something I'd like them to remember always;

That though our holidays sometimes feel a bit scattered,
In the long run, a family's love is what matters.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Ending the weekend with a bang

2010-12-20T09:34:00.007-05:00

Up to that point it had been such a lovely weekend.

Well, it didn't start all that well ... on Saturday morning Young'un pushed a limit to its breaking point and had his computer and electronic game privileges taken away for the day (and ultimately through Sunday, as not two hours after the first incident he thought he'd found a loophole and tried to slither through it, only to get caught and have his punishment extended until today, with the added threat of having them taken away for the week if he dared bug me about the situation again), which wasn't a particularly happy moment for either of us, but once the dust had settled I was able to run a whole bunch of errands and get through a huge portion of my holiday to-do list.

With my errands finished and the kids all absorbed in various activities, I lit a fire in the fireplace and spent the rest of the afternoon knitting, watching tv and napping on the couch. Dinner was a combination of leftovers and carryout from the local sandwich shop, WB's bedtime was particularly snuggly and sweet, and I finished my mother's Christmas gift while watching tv with my husband.

Sunday we slept in a bit, had some coffee, read the paper, fielded one question about playing computer from Young'un ... o.k., this was funny. Saturday afternoon, apropos of nothing, the boy wandered into the kitchen to ask me a question.

"Mom," he said casually, "do you have a good memory, or do you forget things a lot?"

"It depends," I said, pretty sure I knew where this was going.

"Like, when we're in trouble, do you ever forget what our punishments are? Because I forget things a lot," he fretted. "You know, I might forget that I'm not supposed to have computer time and ask to play Wizard 101. And if I do -- and you remember -- I won't be able to play ALL WEEK, and my dandelions will DIE! And if you forget, too, when you do remember I won't be able to play all week, either."

I assured him that I was not going to forget his punishment, but that I understood that sometimes it's hard to remember in the morning what happened the day before. So we agreed that he could ask me about computer once on Sunday without getting into further trouble.

Which, of course, he did, within an hour of waking. It was no big deal, though .... I reminded him that he was off the computer until after school Monday and that I expected him to remember that for the rest of the day, and that was it.

Most of Sunday was as low-key and lovely as Saturday afternoon. It was pageant Sunday at church, and while my kids didn't want to participate ("WB could have been a sheep," Young'un said. "She could," I agreed, "but then they would have had to cast you as a border collie.") it was very sweet, and we got to sing a lot of traditional carols.

Sunday afternoon B went in to the office, and I started working on a gift for my dad (did I mention that I wasn't knitting anything for Christmas this year? At least that was the plan), did a little reading, and dragged Her Ladyship outside to pose for me while I experimented with the lenses on my new camera. Later that afternoon I downloaded a trial of some photo editing software and spent a happy hour or so experimenting while Eldest went to rehearsal and the other kids did homework/practiced piano/played.

artsy!

About 5:30P, I pulled myself away from the computer to start dinner, which is when it all went to hell in a handbasket.

Between 5:30 and 6P:

I started the lasagna, but realized that I didn't have enough marinara sauce, so I had to cobble something together from what I have in the pantry. In the meantime, the younger kids are demanding mac and cheese, and the dog wants to be let out (an involved process, as he can no longer make it down the stairs into the back yard, and needs to be tethered outside the front door, where there are fewer, shallower stairs), and Eldest calls to be picked up from rehearsal, and the water for the mac and cheese starts to boil, and the dog needs to be let back in, and as I'm trying to hustle him back into the house (not happening, he doesn't "hustle" anymore. He wobbles) I don't see WB standing behind the heavy porch door and swing it shut on her fingers.

Twice.

So she's (understandably) screaming, the macaroni is boiling over, the dog needs to be fed before he falls down, Young'un is buzzing about my ankles asking, "What's happened to Baby?", and MAN I needed an extra adult in the house right about then. Her Ladyship jumped into the breech, getting ice and a clean dishtowel for WB's poor fingers, dialing the phone for me so that I could ask Eldest to find a ride home (he couldn't), and then, once I got WB calmed down a bit, taking her sister into her lap and cuddling her so that I could dash to the high school for my son.

When we got back the big kids both swung into action .... Eldest finished the mac and cheese and Her Ladyship fed the dog while I tried to determine whether or not I needed to take WB to the emergency room (I ended up giving her some Advil and keeping her fingers well iced, and will take her to the pediatrician today if necessary). The dust had JUST settled when B walked through the door.

WB's bedtime was the polar opposite of Saturday night (Me: "Do you want me to read?" WB: "NO!" Me: "O.k., let's just snuggle." WB: "No! READ!" Me: "O.k." I reach for the book. WB (clutching it to her chest): NO! MINE!" I held her close and stroked her hair until she fell asleep), and Young'un needed some cuddling of his own (between rule breaking, unprecedented -- for him -- punishment and the finger calamity he was feeling very stressed), and when they were all asleep I made myself a cup of hot chocolate and collapsed into my green chair, where I picked away at my dad's present and tried to relax enough to fall asleep. It took until midnight.

I've said it before and I'll say it again ... thank God it's Monday.

A book signing and more guinea pigs

2010-12-13T14:41:00.012-05:00

I went to see Patricia Cornwell at my local book store on Saturday. I got there 15 minutes early, but the place was PACKED ... I have to take a moment here to say that never in my life have I seen an author come to a signing with such an entourage. There seemed to be at least ten of them, a couple who seemed to work for the publisher or press agent (one perhaps a tour escort?), two manning video cameras, several bustling about sporting really cool tour jackets, three or four taking pictures, and a stone-faced and most intimidating security guard. (While I was in line to get my book signed the nice elderly lady waiting behind me started asking me questions about Ms. Cornwell ... obviously taking me for one of the more INVESTED fans, which I really am not. We had moved to within earshot of the security guard when she started asking me where Ms. Cornwell lives. Cornwell said during her talk that she has a home in Boston, but the woman wanted to know where in Boston EXACTLY. "I don't know," I said nervously, trying not to shift my eyes sideways towards the guard [whose ear seemed to be twitching in our direction, and who was probably packing HEAT, OMG, why are we talking about this RIGHT HERE?] "I wouldn't have any reason to know that," I added hastily, assuming my most innocent and non-threatening facial expression. Dear Lord, but that man made me nervous).

ANYway, I found a spot behind a greeting card display where I had a really good view of of the podium .... as long as I stood on my tiptoes and leaned to the left so that I could peer around the poinsettia plant which -- while undeniably festive -- was sitting squarely in my line of sight.

After craning my neck for a few minutes it occurred to me that no one would say boo if I just moved the plant, so I picked it up and was looking around for a place to put it down, when I saw them. A collection of Beanie Baby Christmas ornaments, hanging towards the bottom of the shelf in front of me. There was a bear, and a kitty, and reindeer, and a husky, and one I just had to buy ....

afraid this is giving me ideas

Ms. Cornwell, by the way, was lovely ... she didn't read from her book, but gave away a tour jacket and a few mugs, and answered lots of questions from the floor, most of which revealed a level of familiarity with Ms. Cornwell's collected works that I do not come anywhere near matching (see: not one of the more invested fans, above). The last time I was at a book reading attended by such an ardent crowd was the Yarn Harlot's last appearance at this same store in 2005.

This time, however, I was the only one knitting.

Fooling no one

2010-12-10T15:48:00.005-05:00

Hey, guinea pigs?

The frantic wheeking you do whenever someone crinkles a plastic bag or opens the refrigerator door is piteous indeed, and trying to scale the front of the cage certainly conveys desperation, but if you really want to convince us that you're starving, I feel I must let you know ....

showing off your nice, plump little tummies diminishes your argument.

She's a puzzlement

2010-12-07T23:11:00.005-05:00

Around the world tonight, children sleep cuddling their lovies.

Some have teddy bears.

Some dolls.

Some find security in the blankets that have kept them safe and warm since birth.

My daughter drifted off to Dreamland snuggling her pink cat t-shirt and a brown paper lunch bag full of puzzle pieces.

Little kids are weird.

Monday, monday

2010-12-06T13:23:00.003-05:00

I didn't intend such an abrupt ending to NaBloPoMo. I thought I'd take Wednesday off, then post a little something on Thursday. Friday, for sure.

And now here it is Monday already. I am sorry about that. I'm not sorry that it's Monday (a day with which I have a love/hate relationship, because a lifetime of "Oh, God, it's Monday" -- ingrained during the days that meant the end of the weekend and the start of the school and/or work week -- is hard to overcome, even when these days Monday means that everyone ELSE goes off to school and/or work and I get the house to myself for several delicious hours in a row), but it just feels wrong to have posted EVERY SINGLE DAY during the month of November and then drop off the face of the Internet for almost a week without so much as a by-your-leave.

Well, I'm back now, and one of the things I'm taking away from NaBloPoMo (aside from a greater respect for bloggers who manage to post every day) is that I would like to get back to writing here more regularly. It won't be every day -- there were days last month when I spent way too much time looking for blogable moments -- but I think that getting into the habit of writing more often would be a good thing for me.

While my NaBloPoMo was a success, I'm afraid my NaKniSweMo efforts fell a bit short. You will remember that I adjusted my goal from finishing October Frost (Ravelry link) to finishing the knitting ... but even with that, I went four days past the November 30th deadline.

And I don't care. Because it was a joy to knit, it's beautiful, and it's DONE.

on the blocking board

If this sweater doesn't fit, I am going to cry.

10 on Tuesday

2010-11-30T18:06:00.007-05:00

I came out from under my rock late yesterday and discovered that it was something called "Cyber Monday", and that all across the Internet there were deals to be had for those of us who ~~are still pretending that we have months to shop~~ couldn't bring ourselves to brave the weekend scrum at the mall.

That would have been WONDERFUL news, if I had any idea at all what I'm going to be buying for Christmas. The kids haven't given me their lists, and we have yet to receive the names we've drawn in the family grab bag. I did manage to get an excellent price on some gifts for B (who would like it made known that he was 100% awake yesterday morning when he heard WB saying that she "wike(s) it hot", so we're chalking it up to preschool weirdness instead of a sleep-fogged daddy brain. I think either scenario is likely, but so since he's so sure, I'm giving him the benefit of the doubt), but ended up deleting the many, many emails alerting me to the Fantastic! Holiday! Prices! at my favorite online shops.

Buried in those emails was notice of the new 10 on Tuesday topic ... which is timely, to say the least. Between yesterday's missed opportunity and my increased awareness of the calendar's inexorable march towards December 25th, it is not at all difficult for me to come up with this week's ....

10 Favorite Places for Online Shopping

Amazon. I buy an awful lot of things from Amazon, from WB's crib to used books. Their prices are competitive, shipping is usually fast and reliable, and they have almost everything I need.
Target.com. Target has been one of my favorite stores as long as I can remember (we had a Target in Des Moines years before they became a national chain), but we're 20 minutes away from the closest bricks-and-mortar version. Their online store doesn't have the dollar bins (where I find the majority of WB's socks and all sorts of bits and bobs that we don't really need but can't live without), but more often than not stocks things my local store doesn' t have or has run out of so .... not much to complain about.
Back to Basics Toys. Looking for a favorite toy from your childhood, like a Fisher Price record player or the Original Bozo Bop Bag? This is where you go to find it.
Chinaberry. Although over they years their stock has expanded to include toys, games, and other small gifts, I will always think of Chinaberry as The Place to buy children's books. The books they stock are thoughtfully chosen, and the well-written descriptions help you find exactly what you're looking for.
eBay. Sometimes the best place to find hard-to-get or discontinued items. You do have to set a ceiling price and stick with it, though ... and always check the seller feedback before bidding. A great source for second hand children's clothes that are otherwise out of my price range.
LL Bean. Excellent quality, fast shipping, and incredible customer service.
Hanna Andersson. Well constructed children's clothes in bright, fun colors that do not fade in the wash. They're not cheap, so I haunt their frequent sales.
Mini Boden. Adorable kid's clothes, but very spendy, so while I would happily buy one of everything for WB, the pieces I've purchased have primarily come from eBay or been found in their clearance section. It's still cute, and a three year old doesn't care if she's wearing last year's design.
Eddie Bauer. One of the only places we've found that carries reasonably priced, relatively fashionable clothes in sizes that fit my 6'7" husband.
WEBS. You didn't think I was going to make it through this list without mentioning a yarn site, did you? WEBS has an incredible range of products, competitive prices and good customer service .... and their sales are FANTASTIC.

What online stores do you like?

Hallelujah!

2010-11-29T22:56:00.006-05:00

I have been wracking my brain for something to write about today ... the kids didn't do or say anything particularly cute today (although B claims that when WB woke up this morning she announced "Ma wike it hot". Or "Sum wike it hot", he wasn't sure ... which isn't really cute as much as it is BEYOND WEIRD. Between you and me, I suspect he wasn't entirely awake at the time) and there's really only so much complaining about cleaning up after the incontinent dog a blog (or its readership) can stand.

Today was short on bloggable moments, is what I'm saying.

But then -- just before I was about to toss up another picture of the guinea pigs -- I logged onto Facebook, where a friend had just posted this ...

("That's so cool!" Her Ladyship said when I showed it to her. "Right there in front of the Panda Express!")

Thank God for viral videos.

*******

Being a curious sort of cat, my first response (after playing the video five or twenty times) was to go to Google to see what more I could learn about the singers and the people who organized the mob. If that's the sort of thing you like to know too, let me point you at this article.

Photoshoot fail

2010-11-28T23:32:00.008-05:00

Since all of the kids were home today, I thought I'd seize the moment and take a group picture for our Christmas cards.

It went as well as you might expect.

Wading through molasses

2010-11-27T23:23:00.005-05:00

I started feeling ill last night, and quickly found myself in that horrible place where I felt exhausted, but couldn't get comfortable enough to sleep. I finally dropped off some time after 3A, but could only sleep lightly before my alarm went off at 6A so that I could drive Eldest to work.

I got in to the Urgent Care clinic this morning where I waited for two hours before seeing the doctor, who diagnosed an infection before sending me on my way with prescriptions in one hand and a referral in the other.

Between my illness and the lack of sleep I have been bogged down all day -- I took my van in for a service appointment this afternoon and tried to knit while I was waiting, but my fingers felt heavy and clumsy, so I tried reading and ended up napping instead. Right there in the dealership waiting room ... despite two cups of the complimentary coffee.

Tonight I picked away at October Frost and watched Elf with the kids.

We're now going to using "I'm a cotton-headed ninnymuggins" in conversation whenever it's appropriate.

This 'n that

2010-11-26T23:02:00.005-05:00

B got up with WB this morning, and I slept in until 9:45. This was HEAVENLY.
You know how sometimes when you come to after a Very Long Sleep it takes a while for your brain to get up to speed? After I woke up I drifted downstairs and started a pot of coffee and rubbed the dog's ears as I made my way back to the family room where I said good morning to the children. "Goo mornig!" said WB happily. "Ma go jigadee?" Which was when my brain snapped to attention and I remembered my promise to take WB and Young'un to Open Gym at the jigadee (gymnastics) place ... which started at 10A.
It was then 9:55A.
We made it to the gym by 10:20.
I brought a travel mug full of coffee, but the gym is less than five minutes from our house, so my 90 minutes at Open Gym (where WB was her usual crazypants self and Young'un flung himself about with surprising abandon) were woefully undercaffeinated.
Young'un now wants to take gymnastic lessons.
I brewed a new pot of very strong coffee when we got home.
The rest of the day was filled with housework and errands.
One of our stops was my LYS, where I looked for yarn to make a Tuckernuck Cardigan. I have been itching to make one for WB ever since I saw the pattern preview a few weeks ago.
I didn't buy anything ... too many options.
Besides, I really, really want to finish October Frost, and if I have the yarn for a Tuckernuck in the house, I know myself well enough to know that I will not be able to resist casting on, destroying any chance I might still have at making my NaKniSweMo goal.
Which I have already revised from "finishing the sweater" to "finishing the knitting". I think I am still on solid ground here ... after all, it is a KNITTING challenge, not an ASSEMBLY challenge.
I have finished the back, both fronts, and two repeats on the first sleeve.
It's going to be close.

Thankful Thursday -- Thanksgiving edition

2010-11-25T21:50:00.004-05:00

I have many blessings in my life: good health, good friends, hobbies that I enjoy, books to read, a warm house to live in and enough food to eat ...

but today I am most thankful for my family. They add richness and joy and so much love to my life, and I wouldn't trade a single one of them.

Not even the ones who have trouble sharing the whipped cream.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Drawing a blank

2010-11-24T22:46:00.004-05:00

I'm having trouble coming up with a post, so I'm putting up a picture of the guinea pigs and calling it a day.

they don't appreciate being used for an easy out

Frankly, I'm shocked hasn't happened sooner.

10 on Tuesday

2010-11-23T22:33:00.004-05:00

Thanksgiving is in two days, people. TWO DAYS!!

I'd be a lot more panicky about that if I were hosting this year, but since I'm not (thank you, Lauren!), I have time to focus on this week's 10 on Tuesday topic .....

10 Things You Love About Thanksgiving

Spending time with my family. With no school and no work, I get to spend the day with my five favorite people.

Turning off my alarm clock. I am usually up before 6A on weekdays. On Thursday and Friday (WB willing), I will be able to sleep until at least 7A. I consider this a luxury.

Dinner with friends. We have no parents or siblings living in the area, so shortly after we moved here we started celebrating the holidays with friends in the same situation. It's something we look forward to every year.

Cooking. Even in the years I'm not the hostess, we contribute side dishes and desserts to the table. This year I am bringing the green beans, mashed potatoes, and a french silk pie. If I have time, I am thinking about trying the Pioneer Woman's Burgundy Mushrooms.

The food. Turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, gravy ... I love it all. Over the years I've gained an appreciation for "real" cranberry sauce, but must admit to a deep and abiding fondness for the cranberry jelly in the can.

The hours after dinner is over and before bedtime. The table is cleared, the dishes are done, we light a fire in the fireplace and enjoy each other's company.

Reading the Black Friday circulars. I avoid shopping on the Friday after Thanksgiving like the plague, but do enjoy leafing through the advertisements. Sometimes they even help me figure out what to get that impossible-to-shop-for teenager on my list.

Setting up my Christmas village. We don't have room to display every piece, but the kids are now old enough to choose what they want to display and set everything up. It's a little different every year, and I always look forward to seeing what they come up with.

Having time to sit and knit. This has been in short supply lately ... I am looking forward to watching a movie with my kids and getting in some quality time with October Frost.

Leftovers. There's nothing like 'em.

What are you looking forward to?

(We shall not talk about the fact that there are only 31 shopping days left until Christmas.)

A new philosophy

2010-11-22T23:22:00.005-05:00

It's been a challenging few days with WB ... she came down with the family cold last week and her breathing disintegrated rapidly, so her doctor put her on antibiotics and increased the number of times per day she uses her inhaler. Which has worked beautifully to stave off pneumonia, but has hyped her thoroughly annoying (and completely age-appropriate, which doesn't make it any easier to live with) contrariness to brave new heights.

We're having a TON of fun.

Today was easier, though. I tried a new approach which seemed to work ... whenever it looked as though she was going to bust out a reflexive "NO!", I'd give her a little job to do. We went to the hardware store after school and when she started to pitch a fit because I wouldn't let her use a shower curtain rod like a bat (she was about to take out a plumbing display) I asked her if she would help me out by carrying the suet cake we were buying to the register. Worked like a charm.

Dinner time was heading south until I remembered the giant sheet of Hello Kitty stickers I found in the dollar bins at Target yesterday. She wasn't interested in being diverted for diversion's sake, but when I asked her to make me a picture to put up on the fridge, she was all over it.

She calls Hello Kitty "Hi Cat".
This is one of those things -- like a three year old Her Ladyship's "leaping lillow" trees -- that I think is so cute that I can't bring myself to correct her.

I'm not sure how long this will work ... but I'm running with it.

At the very least, we'll get some snazzy new artwork for the kitchen out of the deal.

Absorbed

2010-11-21T21:30:00.002-05:00

If you want to ask your son if he's enjoying the book you gave him, but first have to call his name four times to get his attention ....

I'm thinking the answer is yes.

Saturday cute

2010-11-20T16:46:00.002-05:00

It's been a busy day here, what with karate and Harry Potter and shopping for groceries and Cabaret Night at the high school and picking up prescriptions (both canine and human), so in lieu of a blog post, I give you this .....

Hope you're having a great weekend!

Now I remember

2010-11-19T20:01:00.002-05:00

I haven't knit an adult sized sweater in slightly over two years, and had completely forgotten how LONG they are.

Left front: almost done

Songs of the (pre) season

2010-11-18T23:07:00.007-05:00

Our grocery store puts certain items on sale the same day every week. Thursdays are the day you can get a deal on a rotisserie chicken , and since I invariably forget to start dinner before taking Young'un to his 5P karate class, more often than not he and I run by the store on the way home for a chicken (a.k.a. the "Five Buck Cluck") and some side dishes from the deli so that the family can eat as soon as we get back.

Tonight we got our dinner plus a few extras (they're still selling pumpkin whoopie pies! Young'un was ecstatic), schlepped our groceries back to the car and buckled in for the ride home. On the drive there we'd been listening to All Things Considered, but it ended while we were shopping and Marketplace was on. I wasn't in the mood to hear what they had to say about GM's reentry into the marketplace, so I switched to an "oldies" station (which I like because the music they play is appropriate for everyone in the family, and because it is also the music of my youth, which is why I put the word "oldies" in quotation marks).

ANYway.

I changed the channel and realized to my horror that at some point in the week or so since I'd listened last, the station had switched to its holiday programming. The song currently playing was that stupid donkey song .... as soon as the singer started braying Young'un lifted his head.

Young'un: Mom? What kind of song are we listening to?

Me: It's a Christmas song.

Young'un (outraged): Christmas music? It's not even Thanksgiving yet! (shaking his fist) A pox on you, you ... dastardly holiday jumpers!!!

Me (not even trying to hide my laughter): How on earth did you come up with that?

Young'un: I just DID. It's too early for this stuff! What will be next .... EASTER music before VALENTINE'S DAY?!?

Me: I KNOW!!!

And home we drove, him wondering what the world is coming to, and me tickled to death at the idea of a radio programmer throwing up his (or her) hands in despair when tasked to fill six weeks of air time with Easter songs, and finally solving her (or his) problem by putting Handel's Messiah on a continuous loop and heading out for coffee.

Thankful Thursday -- Wednesday edition

2010-11-17T14:21:00.006-05:00

I know that A) I expressed my thanks for the gains in WB's expressive speech last week and B) I'm doing this a day early, but we've just had news that must be shared.

WB had a speech evaluation this morning at Children's. She worked with her speech pathologist for a little over an hour (while I was cooling my heels I met another knitter in the parent's waiting room ... we talked about types of needles and socks and mittens and felted bags and knitting as a form of relaxation, and she was SO NICE! I enjoyed our conversation so much I entirely forget to worry about how WB was doing), and when the results were tallied ....

She has been reclassified from "severely" to "mildly" delayed.

In just SIX AND A HALF MONTHS!!!!

justifiably proud of herself

Today, B and I are grateful for WB's indomitable spirit, and for the doctors, therapists and teachers who listened to us when we said we thought something might be wrong, recognized a problem, and moved swiftly to provide our daughter with the support she needs. She wouldn't have come this far this fast without them.

She's still apraxic, there is still a lot of work to be done, but today's testing exceeded expectations, and our family is celebrating.

We are SO proud of our girl. What a champ.

Ten One on Tuesday (and some other stuff)

2010-11-16T15:36:00.011-05:00

My heart sank a little bit when I saw this week's topic for 10 on Tuesday, 10 Movies You’d Like to See in the Theater.

There was a time, not so long ago, when I was up on what movies were playing, and knew which ones I wanted to see. These days, though, it is just easier to watch movies at home, and I am hard pressed to name ANY movie currently showing or soon to be released. They're simply not on my radar screen ... if they make enough of a media splash, I'll hear it, then wait for them to come out on DVD or On Demand.

That said, there is one movie that my older three children and I have all been waiting for, and it's coming out THIS WEEKEND! So, without further ado I give you ....

One on Tuesday

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (Part I). Get your house scarves ready! This is the first HP movie Young'un will see in a theatre ... I'm really looking forward to seeing it with him (Eldest will want to go with his friends, and Her Ladyship hasn't decided yet whether or not she's going with us or with friends). I will confess to being a little concerned that the movie will be too scary for him ... we can always walk out if he gets overwhelmed.

The other stuff:

The Goof's appointment went well yesterday, but the antibiotics the vet prescribed don't seem to be sitting well with him. He has been on his bed all day today, refusing to eat and having to be forced to go outside every now and then. He's not running a fever, so we're discontinuing the meds and hoping he'll feel more like himself in the morning.

I found my neti pot on the family room mantle. Which means that WB probably had it and someone took it away from her, put it up there for safekeeping and forgot about it (that someone was probably me). Since she was involved but not entirely culpable, I'm downgrading her from perpetrator to accomplice.

I dropped down and fixed the errant cable on October Frost yesterday morning, and finished the back last night while watching Dancing with the Stars. Do you know the Bill Cosby routine where he talks about natural childbirth? How after the baby was born he says he turned to his wife and said, "Darling, I love you very, very much. You just had .... a lizard." (here's a link ... the part I'm talking about starts at 4:38)

Well, after binding off I stretched out the sweater, admired the cables, and heard Bill Cosby's voice in my head, saying, "I just knit .... a rectangle."

That's probably funnier when you're hopped up on Robitussin.

Earlier this afternoon, WB climbed up on the window seat in the family room. She looked out the window, considered her options among the toys at her feet, then turned to me, held out her arms, and said, "I need hep."

Not only is the window seat only 2' off the ground, the child has been climbing on and off it for over a year now. I am still not feeling well, and had -- have -- no intention of getting pulled into an endless loop of the "hep-me-down" game. Not to mention ... she is my fourth child. I did not fall off the turnip truck yesterday.

"You can get yourself down, honey," I said.

"Need HEP, Mama!" she insisted, stretching her arms out a bit further and wiggling her fingers for emphasis.

"You can do it, WB," I said. "If you got yourself up you can get yourself down."

She stared at me for a few seconds, then sat down and waited. When I continued to ignore her, she turned and started to poke through the bin of toys.

The stand off went on for over 20 minutes (until Eldest got home from school and helped her down while I was switching the laundry). I sat in my green chair and worked on October Frost while she put things in and out of her toy doctor bag and ran trains over the window seat. Every few minutes she'd try again ("I need hehhhp," she said, stretching out the vowel to maximize the pitiful factor), and I would calmly repeat my faith in her abilities. After a while, this exchange was so perfunctory we didn't even bother raising our eyes from our tasks at hand.

It was the most peaceful afternoon we've had since she stopped napping.

The camera spies what the eye denies

2010-11-15T12:57:00.005-05:00

I've been struggling a bit with October Frost (Ravelry link) ... had to rip and reknit twice because I lost my place in the charts, then, once I managed to get back on track, fell into a black hole and seemed to make no progress at all, no matter how many hours I knit. The march to the armholes of this sweater took me along the longest 15" in knitting history, but last Friday I finally got there (thank you, God).

High on the heady fumes of relief, I made the mistake of announcing in Friday's post that I was hoping to finish the back and one of the fronts over the weekend. So naturally, having made my goals public, Saturday turned into one of those days when I had lots of places to be and things to do, and while I was able to pick away at my Red Scarf project, I had nowhere near enough quiet quality time to spend with a pattern that requires me to follow two charts simultaneously. Sunday, I vowed, would be the day. In the afternoon. The kids would entertain each other and I would get this project back on track.

Well, you know how the morning went. My cold worsened as the day went on, but at around 2P I saw my chance. Eldest was at rehearsal, Her Ladyship was reading, and B was taking the smalls out to run errands. I figured that I'd have about 90 minutes to knit .... not enough time to finish the back, probably, but I could make a serious dent.

First, though, I wanted to take a progress shot. I cleared the window seat, took a few pictures, and thought everything looked fine ... in fact, this shot seems to have captured the color better than any of my previous attempts.

It captured something else, too.

Yesterday was absolutely One of Those Days.

TMI, but it's all I've got

2010-11-14T19:38:00.009-05:00

WARNING: this post recaps my day, which has involved waaaay too many kinds of bodily fluid. If you have a vivid imagination, you might want to come back tomorrow.

With that out of the way ... this has not been the best day.

Saturday wasn't bad, really. There were a horrible few minutes late in the day when I found the Sharpie on the dining room table (Young'un was responsible, by the way, WB was just helping me with the clean up), but the toothpaste remedy worked as the Internet promised it would, and for the most part it was a good, ordinary sort of day.

Today was different from the start.

When I woke up I was almost immediately aware that what I thought was seasonal allergies is, in fact, a cold, complete with a cough and a nose that is simultaneously stuffed shut and running like a waterfall. I went looking for my neti pot, only to discover that someone had run off with it (I have a suspect, but no proof).

I am not thrilled about this state of affairs, but this morning, at least, not being able to breathe through my nose had its advantages, starting with one of the foulest diapers I have ever had the misfortune to change, and on through having to clean up (and stepping in!) yet another of the Goof's trails of shame and wiping up after WB somehow managed to pee PAST her diaper, soaking her pants and leaving a nice little puddle on the (hardwood, thank you, God) floor.

All that was nothing compared to what happened next.

Shortly after the Pee Incident I looked over at the Goof, sleeping on his bed by the bathroom door and saw a line of matted fur trickling down his side, starting up near the (hen's egg-sized, but benign) cyst he's had near his left shoulder for about a year now. It looked like someone had spilled something on him (a not-infrequent occurrence, as he likes to be right.there whenever anything fun -- like eating, or doing craft projects that involve paint or glue -- is going on).

It clearly wasn't bothering him, seeing as how he was SLEEPING and all, but I was in cleaning-up mode, and decided to get rid of it while it was still on my mind. I fetched a warm, soapy washcloth, started to dab at his fur ... and the cyst blew like Vesuvius.

It was gross and fascinating at the same time. Poor Goof was incredibly patient as I did my best to empty the cyst. I pressed as gently as I could, but I can't imagine it was any too comfortable for the old guy; WB joined us on the bed and patted him gently while the clean up went on and on ("Der, der, bubba," she cooed. "Das a goo boy"). I collected some of the contents to take to the vet tomorrow -- fortunately, Goof's annual physical is already scheduled, so he can have it properly treated in the morning.

dear, sweet guy still isn't feeling well

What a day that starts like this one calls for is a do-over ... or tucking oneself up in bed with a pot of tea, the laptop, Netflicks, a book or two, and napping/knitting/idling away the hours until bedtime. With a cushy spot on the bed and a handful of biscuits for your ailing pup, of course.

Sadly, my life doesn't lend itself to retiring from the world when things go poorly, so instead I pumped myself full of cold medicine and ploughed ahead. I've spent the last twelve hours doing chores, running kids about, going to the grocery store ... doing what needed to be done in order to wade through the day.

This was not how I hoped to spend my Sunday. But oh, well.

There's always Monday to look forward to.

FYI

2010-11-13T21:51:00.001-05:00

If you're looking for a way to take Sharpie marks off your dining room table ....

toothpaste works wonders.

The week that was

2010-11-12T14:24:00.010-05:00

This week ....

Eldest found out that he'd won a role in this year's musical (the unfortunately-titled Urinetown), and I went to the parent information meeting. This is actually a "rope 'em in and sign 'em up" meeting, and no one would have made a fuss (or, I dare say, noticed) if I'd skipped it, but Eldest really, really wanted me to go. He had to work that night, you see, and therefore missed the rehearsal that preceded the meeting ... I suspect he thought that if I went -- and, most importantly, SIGNED UP FOR SOMETHING -- his absence would matter less. I left after two hours, committed to be crew chief for one meal and (with Her Ladyship) to help with set painting.

Her Ladyship decided that she was ready for a change from her waist-length hair, and had her first salon haircut. She looked through a few books after we got there, but ultimately left the decision-making to the stylist, who exclaimed over the color and thickness of Her Ladyship's hair, gave her a cute asymmetrical bob, and left me with a daughter who loves her new 'do, and looks about five years older than she actually is.
Best of all, we were able to send 21" of my girl's hair to Locks of Love.
No naps + the end of Daylight Savings Time has made WB fairly hard to live with. She's aces with a knock-knock joke, but words tend to fail her when she's tired and/or upset, so she resorts to hitting, spitting and scratching. She gets more wound up and irrational as the day wears on; Wednesday night she was very happy about the butter noodles she saw me putting on her plate, but lost it when I added a small serving of applesauce. Even removing the applesauce didn't pacify her ... apparently, the damage had been done (a very early bedtime solved the problem). Bless her heart, she is wearing my patience very thin these days.
The kids had Thursday off due to Veteran's Day, and it threw me completely off my game. I get most of my chores done while they're in school, and felt like I was behind the eight ball all day. While my routine tasks suffered, the three older kids did help me tackle some things that have been piling up ... the house was a wreck by 2P, and not much laundry got done, but I did manage to sort through several boxes of outgrown clothes (the kids and -- sadly -- mine) and set aside eight bags for charity. Bonus .... Eldest disposed of the two mice (one fresh, one less fresh) that the refrigerator repair man (waiting around for him was the OTHER reason I was off my game yesterday) found in the basement.
I monkeyed around with the blog late last night, and while that was most likely a job better tackled in the light of day, I am not unhappy with the new background color, really like the drop-down menu for my archives, and am pleased to have cleaned up the sidebar. I also got rid of the commenting system I have been using since Haloscan went out of business; I was never happy with the fact that Echo didn't provide me with links to commenter's websites, or that they didn't give me access to email addresses so that I could respond privately to comments. I've installed Discus, and we'll see how it goes. Thoughts? Suggestions?
Prize donations are coming in for NaKniMitMo (Ravelry link). Carol and I are very excited about the way things are shaping up for January ... we think this could be the best year yet.
I have not yet finished the back of October Frost (Ravelry link), and while I would still love to have the whole sweater finished by the 30th, have decided that having all the PIECES knit would be a victory in itself.
Not having time to knit October Frost (aside from everything above I've had the usual mess of doctor's appointments, classes, and drive-and-wait) means I've had lots of time to work on my November socks. I didn't realize how much until last night, when much to my surprise, it was time to kitchener the toe of the second sock.

In theory, we have a quiet weekend ahead. I'd like to use it to get caught up on chores, finish the back and one of the fronts of October Frost, and do some baking. Then again, on Monday I thought we didn't have much going on this week, and had all sorts of goals set for getting things done ... which I did. Just very few of the things I had planned.

So we'll see how it goes.

Thankful Thursday -- Gabigail edition

2010-11-11T12:13:00.003-05:00

Six months ago she had only a handful of words, and spoke in one to two word sentences.

Now she's telling knock-knock jokes.

I cannot tell you how thankful I am to be hearing this stupid joke 100 times per day.

The Elf and the Sweatermaker

2010-11-10T23:30:00.007-05:00

The other day WB and I were in the family room. I was working on October Frost (Ravelry link) while she buzzed about keeping herself busy.

After a bit I started to feel dozy and decided that a little pick-me-up was in order. I went to the kitchen to microwave a cup of leftover breakfast coffee, and then returned to my chair, where I found someone hard at work:

Naturally, as soon as I found my camera she was ready to move on to other things.

I know the quality of the video is poor, but can you see what "guys" she's holding? The ones whose movie she wants to see?

Yes. It's Buzz and Woody.

I don't think I need to tell you how whole-heartedly Young'un approves.

10 on Tuesday

2010-11-09T18:29:00.012-05:00

As an avid fan of The Amazing Race, it wasn't hard to think of ten items for this week's 10 on Tuesday. I add another country to my wish list with every season (although some are higher on the list than others).

I don't have to look that far for inspiration, though ... my parents have visited some truly wonderful places, and someday I'd like to follow in their footsteps. (They're just back from a trip to South Africa ... and as happy as I am to have them back safe and sound, I am a bit sad that I can no longer say, when people ask what's going on in my life, that my parents are currently in South Africa. I like to ~~pretend~~ believe that a bit of world-traveling cachet rubs off on the relatives of those actually doing the traveling.)

With no further ado, I present my version of ....

10 Dream Vacations

England/Scotland/Ireland. At least a week in each. I actually think of these as three unique trips, but they're so close together that it seemed like cheating to list them separately.
Scandinavia. Particularly the parts of Norway and Sweden my father's people immigrated from.
Switzerland. Mountains. Cheese. Chocolate. Watches.
Austria. Art. Mountains. The Danube. Music. Strudel.
Russia. Architecture. St. Petersburg. The Volga River. Vodka.
Spain. Beaches. Mountains. Wine. Art. The food.
Africa. I'm not even sure what country. I just want to visit the continent.
Australia/New Zealand. Sydney. The Great Barrier Reef. Ayers Rock. The Maori culture.
Mexico. Beaches. Archeology. The Aztecs. The food.
Costa Rica. I have to admit that this country wasn't on my list until Eldest's choir director announced that they would be touring in Costa Rica next year. I left the parent meeting jonesing to go along. They're going to be seeing volcanoes and touring a rain forest on hanging bridges! I am jealous.

It's going to be a while before I can realistically visit any of these places -- I'm in a "trip" phase of life. Eventually, my time will come.In the meantime, a girl can dream.

Necessity/Invention

2010-11-08T20:34:00.003-05:00

You know all those toddler hangers you have cluttering up your laundry room? The ones that are designed to hold a top and a pair of pants or skirt, and while you can re-use the main hanger part, there is really no secondary use for the part that holds the bottoms?

What? You don't have any of those hanger sets? Well, I do. More than I've known what to do with.

Until now.

I am feeling rather brilliant today.

I'm tired and I want to go to bed

2010-11-07T20:33:00.014-05:00

Before I had children, I dreaded the days immediately following the beginning of Daylight Saving Time, when I struggled to adjust to the time shift (oh, how early those mornings are!) and looked forward to late fall, when the clocks turn back and everyone gets an extra hour to sleep in the mornings.

Having young children turned my perspective on its ear. They are in tune with their internal clocks, and tend to wake up at around the same time every morning no matter what the clock says.

As I said, I used to love "fall back" for the additional sleep it gave me. No more. I went to bed dreading this morning ... for good cause, as it turned out. WB woke up at 5:30A and was ready for the day.

What I didn't anticipate was that Eldest would need a ride home from a party at 11P, or that I wouldn't feel tired until an hour and a half after that. I also failed to foresee the nightmare that sent Young'un weeping into our room at 3A, and left him too shaken and upset to go back to sleep. So with the exception of a few cat naps here and there (one, I am ashamed to say, during the sermon at church this morning) I have been up since 3A, and all I can say is that I AM TOO OLD FOR THIS.

Oh! Speaking of church, this morning Young'un took communion for the first time. We don't do a "first communion" per se, our denomination practices open communion, and he and the other children had been instructed about the meaning of the sacrament during Sunday School. He was quite excited to be included this morning, and watched the passing of the elements intently. When the deacon came to our pew with the bread Young'un chose his piece carefully and studied it.

"Hey, look! It looks like SpongeBob!" he (sort of) whispered as he turned to me and danced his square bit of white bread up and down.

"Shhhh!" I said, giving him a brief frown. He deflated quickly and simmered down. We sat quietly for a minute while I looked at my bread with fresh eyes, then leaned toward my boy. "You're not wrong," I whispered into his ear. He smiled and rested against me as we waited for the rest of the congregation to be served.

When the grape juice came by he was clearly trying to stay on his best behavior. His hand hovered for a second or two as he chose his cup (probably trying to decide which held the most juice, that was important to me when I was his age). He steadied the tray while I took my glass, then helped pass it back and thanked the deacon solemnly. I was just starting to feel all mushy and sentimental about how grown up he is getting to be, the SpongeBob episode forgotten, when the boy turned to me with a twinkle in his eye and clinked his plastic cup against mine.

"Cheers!" he said.

this child is never blah.

The gift that keeps on giving

2010-11-06T16:49:00.008-05:00

The first Valentine's Day B and I were together, I gave him a red scarf and a card. I bought the scarf at Marshall Fields, but had to search several stores to come up with the card. It was vitally important that I find just the right one; I needed it to convey how very, very much I liked him as casually as possible. I wrapped the gift in newsprint, tied it with with red ribbon, and just before I sealed the envelope, tossed a handful of red heart-shaped sequins into the card.

Whimsical, I thought. Jaunty. The perfect touch.

Those hearts have been turning up ever since. They exploded out of the card when B opened his gift in the apartment my friends and I shared on Addison Street in Chicago, and even though I swept up as best I could, I wasn't really surprised to come across them here and there over the next few weeks. Stuck in a corner of the living room, say, or lurking underneath the hall table.

I was not expecting to find one nine months later, when I looked down as I was waiting for my train at the Grand Avenue El station and saw one stuck to my leg -- under my pantyhose.

I was nonplussed when I found one three years after that, in the bedroom of our apartment on Wabash.

I didn't know what to think when one turned up as I was sweeping our garage in West Chicago, seven years further on.

And you could have knocked me over with a feather when I found several of them scattered in WB's crib this afternoon.

Love is just full of surprises.