A bright, shiny New Year…I hope

20 days until the inauguration…5 months until my 50th birthday…5 months until my children graduate (on the same day, thank you) from their respective colleges….

So much to look forward to this year, yes?

I have every intention of purchasing that camera battery this week.  Every Intention.  Really.

In the meantime, here’s that cowl I mentioned last post.  Grape purple Manos del Uraguay, in a feather and fan pattern.

It’s hard to see, isn’t it.  Maybe this is better.

That’s a silly hairdo I have going on, but it’s New Year’s Day, I’m on call for work, and I’m just trying to lay low.  No expectations, no plans, just take the day as it comes.  Note I might better spend some time weaving in the ends of this cowl.

My brother.  I adore the guy.  I made him some wool/cashmere blend fingerless gloves for Christmas, in a simple 4×4 rib.  No, no pictures.  There was no time for photography.  I barely had time to wrap and send them.  Anyway, he has these gloves.  And today calls me and says, “they’re great, I love them, can I have a pair in black?”

You haven’t seen my cat in a while.  He’s here.

He seems to enjoy sleeping around my fiber.

Speaking of which, let’s end this New Year’s post with a little unintended humor, shall we?

Liana’s green drink and why I like green

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?

Happy FO day

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.

Officially sick

No more “officially” sick than I was yesterday, but as of yesterday, I thought maybe I was just being a whiny chucklehead, and was not sick at all.

Mais non, my little ones. I am officially sick with fever and cough and muscle aches, oh my.

SO…

As a way to amuse myself, I made a list of what I’d do if I won the lottery. And I don’t mean what I’d do if a scratch-off paid $400, but what I’d do if I hit the big one.

1. Pay off all bills. This would take a chunk of the winnings, but if we’re talking millions here, then that’s really chump change.
2. Give my kids each a huge nest egg to start post-college life with. 5 million enough?
3. Each of my parents get a chunk. A mil?
4. Ditto my brother.
5. Boyfriend’s family gets their chunks, too. (BF is pretty much family at this point, so we’d be sharing this windfall.)
6. QUIT MY JOB. Experience life without the constant reminder of mortality. Mine or anyone else’s.
7. Buy a house. Hell. Buy two houses. One here and one somewhere warm.
8. Charity. I’d give mega bucks to animal shelters, both kill and no-kill. Maybe I’d start a no-kill shelter?
9. Charity again. Funds to cancer research.
10. Charity again. Funds to HIV research.
11. Charity again. Big funds to the hospice I work for. A certain percentage to the medical and social work staff (ahem…the ones that keep the place on it’s feet…hello?? Remember them??) to be used for more frequent time off to rest and take care of themselves, and perks like facials and massages and routine oil changes and gas, a paid conference out of state every year for each, and stipends every two years for a new vehicle.
12. Charity again. Big funds to the hospice I work for. This time a fund for patients/families who don’t know where the money for a decent burial is going to come from. Funds for airfare for family to come and say goodbye, if that’s what they’d like. Funds to build a resource center directed at healing — not so much physically as in it’s a miracle; you’re cured! — but healing of the soul, both for the dying and those left behind later on. A list of programs for kids. Programs for parents who’ve lost children. I could go on and on. I suppose a bit of research needs to be done to see that services aren’t duplicated anywhere else in the community (Gilda’s Club, etc.), but now I’m getting w-a-a-a-a-y ahead of myself.
13. Invest and save the rest.
14. Cannot stop at 13. That’s bad luck. Open a yarn/bead/fiber shop. Raise sheep and alpaca and those furry little bunnies in the back (acres). Hire someone to do the care of said animals, as I’m afraid my skills in animal husbandry don’t go much beyond keeping a cat alive. (And if you ask the cat, sometimes not even that.)

I managed a little knitting last night. I need something mindless but pretty to carry me through, so yet another a Booga Bag is a good project. At least it’s better than another scarf.

That’s Noro Kureyon, colorway #213.

I have some beads that I might sew onto it after it’s felted. I have to think about that a little bit further, but here’s what I have in mind, plus turquoise chips.

I have some jump rings and pins that are coppery/natural toned, and some turquoise, hematite, those ceramic beads, and some green glass ones, that I have earmarked for stitch markers. Did I ever mention that I loved green? Or turquoise?

Anyway. Stitch markers. That’s my plan. Will let you know how they turn out.

Mulligan

Size 9’s and sort of sloppy vs. size 5’s and…better?

Things have quieted down at work just a little (insert knock on wood here). At least today I got a chance to take a breath and catch up.

I might be going to a conference in Scottsdale in March. The desert in March is not a bad thing.

Warm.

Dry.

Yep. I’ll go.

I’m renouncing traditional Christmas. Sure, I will do the Christmas Eve thing with my kids so as not to trounce yet another of their traditions. But Christmas day is mine, all mine. I will knit and watch movies and nap. I think my mother and her boyfriend (the word ‘boyfriend’ over the age of 24 is absurd, but ‘lover’ is way too much information and ‘partner’ is just weird, so ‘boyfriend’ it is) have the right idea in driving up north on Christmas day and draping pine trees with stringed popcorn and cranberries for the wildlife. I think a feast for the birds and squirrels out back, and maybe some apples in the woods for the deer is a good idea. Can’t forget the little beasties who share the earth with us.

Then my ‘boyfriend’ (see above) and I might go see a movie, and call it a day.

If I can remember to take a few minutes between now and then to just sit still and breathe, it might be all right, after all.

*****

Look what I found in the bookcase last night. The LCPL in Afghanistan, back in…what…2003? No…2004.

Hard to remember. Look at that gun. Just the picture scares me. I can’t imagine my child actually using it. But. He still loves guns, and he loves firing. My daughter tells a story how this summer he was target shooting with his father, got down on the ground, assumed the “position” (whatever that is) and fired straight into the bullseye. Causing his father to frown and say, “hmmmmm.”

Sort of like, “ruh roh! Baby boy’s done gone and grown up. Now what.”

*****

Tonight’s cat activity shot is…Harrison at his post, between the slats of the blinds, keeping watch on the backyard. Because you never know what might be going on back there…

*****

The two sides of Harrison P. Cat. Or…

…how can a creature this sweet…

…look this damned evil?

Startitis?

If startitis is the disease that is manifested by the uncontrollable urge to start a new project while current projects hang limp on the needles…then I have a roaring case of startitis.

Clapotis in Silk Garden Lite.

Those are not enormous dropped stitches up there. Those are the yo’s that are supposed to stop the ripping when I drop a stitches on purpose later on. Or so the story goes….

Green is my favorite color.

At least it is today.

I’m knitting on size 9’s, and hoping my stitches aren’t too loose. I don’t think so. I’m aiming for an easy rip of the dropped stitch portion of the scarf, later on. And I want a nice drape. (Well. Maybe it is too loose. Crap.)

So I’ll soldier on and hope for the best.

In the good news department — Christmas boxes were mailed today. Phew. Cross that off my list.

Wouldn’t it be nice if it was okay to be happy with just a string of pretty lights, and maybe a candle to illuminate the dark at Christmas? But every year I succumb to the power of the Xmas machine and the demand to do more more MORE.

Buy more, spend more, wrap more, give more, clean more, cook more, plan more, drive more. Only to end up looking forward to next Wednesday, because then I can rest.

Next year I’ll do better.

But I tried. I kept decorations simple. Just some (okay, they’re fake) candles to light the way.

Someone at work said something today that stuck with me.

“My ghosts come out at Christmastime.”

That’s exactly what I would have said, if I’d known it was what I wanted to say at all.

“My ghosts come out at Christmastime.” Indeed. They do.

*****

But there’s tons to be happy about, too. My kids are home safely from college. There’s still money in the bank, even after the shopping is done. I have next Tuesday off. Tomorrow is hump day. Tomorrow morning I get to bend the ear of my medical director about some of these nightmare discharge plans I’ve been dealing with, confident that she’ll listen and hear only the important stuff in the midst of all my chatter, and give some really decent advice like she always does.

And…

Harrison says, “Mom may not like the Christmas season very much, but I sure do loves me my tree!”

A post for Saratoga

I wore the usual baggy linen Flax outfit. (Note to Saratoga. The goofy expression and stance are all for you, dear. All for you.)

And managed not to set myself on fire checking the turkey.

Later the kiddos stopped over for pie and to hang out. This is their rendition of the turkey coma.

The BF wasn’t doing so well, either.

At least I’m still awake.

The daughter thinks she is going to get up at 4 AM to do Black Friday shopping. Me…no way. I’m sleeping in and then checking out my Christmas light inventory, and hopefully getting the tree up tomorrow.

Best not to let one holiday slip away before vigorously jumping into the next, you know.

And I may have to tell Typepad to take a hike if I can’t get this formatting straightened out. Blogs have pictures, no? So why the hassles in posting them?