“I believe the nicest and sweetest days are not those on which anything very splendid or wonderful or exciting happens, but just those that bring simple little pleasures, following one another softly, like pearls off a string.” — L.M. Montgomery
I still don’t have picture taking ability, due to my prematurely dead camera battery. Photos taken with Photo Booth are okay for spontaneous LOOK AT THIS! sort of things, but not for sharing such subtleties as stitch definition, etc.
I just spun a few more yards of lush green corridale/romney blend. To see the fiber, look at my title bar up on top. (It’s not really a lush green fairy cave, you see. It’s wool!) Anyway, my singles are getting a little more even, and the drafting business is becoming clearer (I think).
This helps.
I hope embedding YouTube videos gives credit where credit is due. That is most certainly NOT me doing that drafting. It is someone who knows what they’re doing. I just happen to be able to click with this clip, in that it makes sense to me and my hands.
I got my time off for Rhinebeck! It’s still three months away, but with my vacation time now written in stone, I feel like I can really start thinking again about it. I’ve started a wish list.
a Bosworth spindle, most likely a midi
That Golding spindle that looks like tree branches inside the whorl, with an owl sitting on the branch
Fiber. Duh.
Enough yarn for a sweater, pattern as yet unchosen.
At least a look at the Socks That Rock, although I may not stand in line for something I can order, unencumbered, off the internet. I like the stuff, just maybe not enough to get into groupie mode.
If I could find the jasmine tea I bought a few years ago at Rhinebeck, that would be lovely.
I think I’ll skip the chocolate dipped potato chips this year.
The little girl who grew up across the street from me when I was married also grew up, I guess. She is a few years younger than my daughter (23). Evidently she had a baby and is living with her mother. Friday night her baby, just a year old last Tuesday, accidently drowned in their swimming pool.
She was a sweet girl back when I knew her, and her mother was a really good mom. We all had pools back then, but we managed to escape the horrible tragedy that she’s now living through. I can’t begin to imagine her pain. You have your baby’s birthday party on Tuesday, and the following Tuesday is the baby’s funeral. I can’t wrap my mind around it, and I’m a distant observer. I feel so horribly for them all.
It’s humid. Life in western New York often resembles life in the bottom of a simmering tea pot. Constant moist, bubbling, heat. It’s so humid the a/c can’t even cut the water out of the air. Combine this with my own internal combustion system (thank you, middle age, and thank YOU, menopause), and I am a sticky, whiny mess. I heard Primrose Oil helped. With the internal combustion. Not the weather.
I have this desire to reread the Vampire Chronicles by Anne Rice. It started last night at the bookstore when I was looking at the pile of ridiculously attractive vampire novels set up by the back door. I was going to buy the first in the series, until I realized they were geared towards the high school set. Now I’m all about exploring different genres of fiction, but I can’t bring myself to purchase books geared towards teens. It’s bad enough I still sneak peaks at Glamour magazine now and then. (I finally gave up on looking at Seventeen magazine when I was in my 30’s.)
So anyway, I’ve got a taste for vampires today. One of my favorite classes in college (first run through, in the ’70’s), was a Gothic Lit class, where we read Interview With A Vampire. It had just been published. I’ll never forget the professor. Anne something or other. She had long, black, witchy hair with gray streaks and floated around campus in a black academic robe that she wore like a vampire’s cloak. But damn, she was cool. She talked about vampires and angels (she was way ahead of her time) like they were real creatures who walked around with us every day.
She was so authoritative. ”Angels do not ‘graduate’,” she told us. ”It’s not like a promotion from angel to archangel. When you’re an angel, you’re an angel, you stay in your class. You don’t move up. And when we die, we don’t become angels. We become dead.” Oh, she was a hoot. I can’t believe they gave out grades for that class.
Look at this. Nearly noon and I’ve done nothing but drink coffee and spin.
Thursday afternoon. 75 degrees. Sunny. A little breeze. No work. A sidewalk cafe and jazz on the speakers. Is it possible to get any better than this?
I have this list of things I wanted to do on vacation. It is Day #4, and most of my list is done. One of the things - spend the day at a cafe with my laptop and knitting. Check.
I’m at Spin Cafe on Park Ave. Most of you Rochesterians probably know the place. Decent coffee, and the wireless is free.
Knitting is the new socks from Apple Laine yarns — Apple Pie. On size 0’s, the inch of 2×2 ribbing is a slow go, indeed.
I cleaned out my bureau drawers yesterday and found a Kitty Pi I had started several years ago. I just have to finish another couple of rows around the rim and then felt it. Voila. A new bed for the man-cat, and another project jumps from the UFO bin and into the light.
There are three people sitting at the table next to me. Two men and a woman. They are all talking about their marriages, past and present, and their therapists. Words I hear, caught in the breeze: ”Abuse.” ”Drinker.” ”Apologetic.” Also heard, “I just came from a meeting”, and “early recovery.” Is it wrong that I think their coffee is paid for by their SS disability checks, earned after several letters from their respective psychiatrists, verifying the severity of their mental illnesses? And this is how they spend their days…chatting in coffee houses about their meds and shrink appointments, engaging in miniature therapy sessions among themselves?
It wasn’t too many years ago that I, fresh from the trauma of separation and divorce, and engaged in my own weekly visits with the psychiatrist (old man with prescription pad and little else of any use to me), spent many an unemployed hour in coffee houses (Okay. Maybe not. I spent my time in Perkins.) chatting it up with my fellow sufferers.
At least then I had some friends.
I am one of those people who never learned the necessary skills of making friends. It is beyond difficult. It is nearly impossible. Three young women just met on the street in front of me, all hugging and exclaiming to each other, acting like long lost sisters. Sisters. I think that’s a key word. Sisters. I don’t know how I can miss something I’ve never had for more than a couple of years at a time, but I miss the closeness of another woman friend. Even if it’s just someone to laugh off a stupid-man-moment with. Oh share the bittersweet days of mothering adult children who have little use for us anymore. Or someone to reign me in when I want to shop until I drop, which is something I do because (I am keenly aware of this) I am longing for some kind of community, and where else to find it but at the local mall, where someone is always happy to see you?
So I have to work this out, somehow. At the ripe old age of 49, and what could best be described as in the crone period of my life, how on earth to I teach myself the mechanics of making friends.
The receipt says 8/18/07. The warranty says the battery is not covered.
Isn’t that convenient…
Which just means I have no way of adding my usual high quality photographs to the blog. I’m fairly certain the difference will be negligible. But that doesn’t mean I’m not pissed off. What the hell? They should make it clear at the outset that the actual cost of the camera will be retail plus the additional yearly cost of a replacement battery. I know. $29.00 is not likely to break my bank. It’s just the point of it that bothers me.
My pond scarf is morphing into some kind of hippy bag. This was after I was planning a trip to the lake to find a piece of driftwood to make it into a wallhanging. Now I’m thinking it’s just a mess and I should toss it in the closet.
I got some Apple Pie sock yarn (Apple Laine) from Spirit Works yesterday. After I cleaned and sorted and exhausted myself with housework, a little treat at the yarn store seemed like a good idea. You can’t see the colors, but they’re bluish-purples and golds.
It’s HOT here. I’m thinking that either an afternoon in an air conditioned coffee shop with my knitting, or a trip to the museum, are in order. Another idea is a trek out to the Apple store to get a laptop sleeve for my Macbook. Or I could stay home in the a/c and knit one.
God, my life is boring. I really need my camera back to ‘pretty’ things up and make me believe (and you) that I am not really so boring, after all.
My days of struggling with Vista are over. And none too soon. (See high velocity trajectory of PC through glass window.)
I love this little guy. (Wouldn’t Mac be a male?) He’s fast and efficient and knows exactly what I’m telling him to do.
There will be no comment on the Macbook user who could not figure out how to right click on a Mac for nearly two weeks, however. (Please note I did figure it out, eventually.)
And the software. Yum. I got this totally free software called FreeMind that is stunning in that it maps out your thoughts in outline/bubble form. So it seems as though I make sense…at least on paper.
(If I had the skills to show you a screenshot, I would.) Maybe this will do, instead.
Note that I have all the skills necessary to show you this utterly useless wonder.
The garden is OUT OF CONTROL.
I need to find some stakes today, and get those tomato plants standing up, before they rot.
The herbs are going wild, too.
I’ve been spinning my favorite color of green.
And knitting a new Clapotis in Noro Silk Garden Lite.
Quite inadvertently, the stitch markers match the yarn.
I am now a Reiki II practitioner, which is something I’ve wanted to do for a long time. The class was held last weekend — Friday evening, all day Saturday, and all day Sunday. Reiki is something I can use both at work, and at home.
Work. Yeah. Still the same. The agency, and more specifically, the hospice, is undergoing multiple management changes all at once, so it’s not an especially peaceful time. But this too shall pass.
The boyfriend is all moved in. Things are going well. We generally get along quite well. Sometimes he reminds me of my grandfather, though. My grandpa used to yell from the living room, “Helen? Where are you?” like he was some sort of lost lamb without her sitting next to him. The boyfriend does this, too. This generally drives me insane, until I remember my grandfather, and then it seems like this is the natural order of things. So I go with the flow.
In terms of animals, things are much the same. Harrison P. Cat, Little Man, and That Goddamned Cat (synonyms for the same creature) is fine. He is involved in the same activities as always.
We had a couple of visitors a few weeks ago. Both times we are woken up by soft flapping of leathery wings and the muffled ‘thump’ of body hitting wall, presumably while their radar system failed them.
They were both escorted outside peacefully. But not before at least one photograph was taken.
I know you feel neglected and unloved. The fact that I have caused you this pain hurts me greatly, too.
I have no excuses, other than life has gotten away from me.
The boyfriend is all moved back in. Sometimes it’s hard to take time away from playing house with him to make time to blog.
There was a little issue of a cancer scare in the family that had my mind occupied for several weeks. Join me in screeching from the rooftops, would you? ”Benign! Benign! BENIGN!!!!”
My internal furnace (hormones and hot flashes, oh my!) coupled with the humidity of summer in western New York make the fondling of wool rather unappealing. Hence, there has been limited activity in the knitting/spinning departments.
While I’d like to be the type of blogger who posts regularly, so as not to disappoint the readership; I’m afraid I am quite lame in that department.
Though it could also be argued that one has to actually have a readership in order for anyone to be disappointed that there are no new posts.
So it’s the chicken vs. the egg, isn’t it?
I don’t post because I have no readers. I have no readers because I don’t post.
Whatever. I have bigger fish to fry beyond overthinking this one.
Knitting Projects:
Noro Silk Garden Lite Clapotis in blues and greens.
Socks That Rock in Tinklit (a Raven colorway) socks. Soon to be frogged, because I’ve proven to myself that I can indeed knit lace socks, and they are too big.
Schaefer Laurel Clapotis in reds and greens.
In the past few weeks I’ve planted a garden. The tomato plants have grown twice their original size already.
Tomatoes. Such a shocking word.
We used to be afraid of terrorists. Now we have been instructed to fear tomatoes.
Green. The word says Life. Spring. New. Grass. Buds. Flowers. Trees.
And kale.
Big, leafy, cheap, and so-nutritious-it’s-almost-illegal, kale.
My daughter (the above mentioned Liana) has been extolling the virtues of kale for some weeks now. Evidently a college friend has turned her onto making smoothies out of vegetables.
I know. YUCK.
But get this. It’s not that bad. It’s actually good. And if you check out this nutritional calculation website, maybe you’d like to try it, too.
Liana’s Green Drink
Take one handful of kale leaves
Take another handful of spinach leaves
Wash them. Put them in the blender.
Add some water (I cheat. I add Arizona Diet Green tea. It’s really, really good.)
Whirl around.
Throw in 1/2 of an apple, skin and all. Seeds if you don’t mind them.
Ditto with 1/2 a pear, or whatever you’d like.
(I added 1/4 of an avocado here, too).
Throw in some flax seed. And some oat bran.
Toss in 3 ice cubes.
Blend. Blend. Blend. Until you get this thick green thing substance that smells like the stuff you wipe off the bottom of the lawn mower.
Then drink it. And feel good. Because there’s your vegetables/fruits for the day. That’s it. You’re done!
The drink and the girl –
Other reasons I like green
Gardening.
Yup. We even put up Tiki lights on the patio.
Cool, huh?
Knitting is socks. STR, Tlinkit, Waving lace pattern. Just ready to start the heel now.
Got to run. It’s Memorial Day, there’s a parade, and I’m told my son’s name is being put up on a veteran’s plaque of some kind at the town hall. He’s a veteran now. But he’s alive, and home. We’re so lucky. Many are not. Remember them today, okay?
I have jumped on the Socks That Rock bandwagon, you see. So far, every year at Rhinebeck I have missed the booth that sells STR (The Fold). So I had no idea what I was missing.
But at the Flower City Knitting group last earlier this month, I saw some real, live, in the flesh, STR. Oh. My. Gorgeous. So I dashed off to the Blue Moon Fiber Arts website and grabbed me some Raven Clan medium weight sock yarn in Tlingit and then I ran to Village Yarn and bought me two sets of Addi circulars in Size 1’s, and then I ran home and started some socks.
I did a plain stockinette sock cuff nearly 6″ in length before I realized it was a waste of beautiful yarn. And it was boring as hell. So I frogged, and dug out my Favorite Socks book and settled on The Waving Lace socks. Never mind that I’ve never done socks on two circs before, and I’m not quite sure how to manage the gusset with this technique — I’ll figure it out. Right?
Right.
Today’s my 49th birthday. The weeks leading up to it have sucked, and in a big way. But the actual day…maybe not so bad. I took the day off from work, and I’m heading out to the yarn stores soon, and maybe Eastview for some shoes (The Walking Company!), then I have a facial scheduled for 4 PM, and dinner with the boyfriend at Dinosaur after that.
Two more days of work, then it’s a long holiday weekend for us folks in the US. My daughter’s helping me pick out flowers and tomato plants on Saturday, and (sweet girl) is buying me garden tools and gloves for my birthday, so we’ll be doing some serious planting this weekend.
It’s freezing here. Like 46 degrees. Saturday I went to the boyfriend’s graduation from SUNY Brockport and sat in the pouring, freezing rain for an hour and a half. Which I’d gladly do again to see him graduate; my point is simply the weather around here has SUCKED.
But it’s supposed to be a nice Memorial Day weekend, in the 70’s and sunny.
And Happy Mother’s Day, too, to all who participate.
I visited my mother this weekend, and gifted her with the Montego Bay scarf she wanted to knit for herself last year, but had to frog numerous times.
I beaded her a necklace to wear with it. The furnace glass bead in the center is the exact same color as the yarn (Handmaiden Sea Silk in periwinkle) and reminds me of a star fish or some other ocean creature, so there you have it.
My brother’s Noro striped scarf is finished. He was deeply into the Grey Goose by the time we arrived at his house, and he knew perfectly well that his picture would end up on my blog, so this is the reaction I got to my photography attempt.
And that’s all.
I’m on call AGAIN this week, so if there’s a post, it will most likely be filed under ‘bitching and moaning’.
***Edited to add. For some reason I cannot fathom, my brother hated the idea of his actual face on my blog. So I doctored him up. But you saw him first…here.
Traditionally, for reasons unbeknown to me, May is a damned shitty month. Starting sometime in mid-April, and culminating into a full-fledged funk by my birthday in May…this is my yearly pilgrimage to the dark side.
My mind. Don’t go in there alone.
I am working, but not enjoying it in the least. I feel myself going “terminal”, in spite of my reasonably good health status. Like I’m waiting for the guillotine to drop. The diagnosis to come. The bus to hit me. I mean, why not? Everyday I watch people die. Men and woman younger than I are now dead. People who scaled ice capped mountains in Greenland a few months ago are dead, and you can bet your ass they didn’t expect that outcome when they were savoring the view up there with the musk ox. Lesson learned. Why plan for a future when there may not be one?
See. I told you I am in a bad way.
If history repeats itself as expected, I can expect to feel much better towards the end of the month. In the meantime I am trying very hard to ride the wave without going under.
There is knitting being done, and other things, but the upcoming Mother’s Day holiday prevents me from posting photographs.
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