I know I am in foreign because the air is cool and dry and there aer exotic insects singing. Why does Piscataway have New Hampshire's climate while NH has, perhaps, one of the sweatier bits of Japan?
Also, why is my daughter's apartment bigger than most people's houses?
Saturday, August 09, 2008
Friday, August 08, 2008
not bad as these things go really
Kitchen creeps along, ingesting hge rolls of cash and producing plaster dust and mysteriously tarp-wrapped things in the driveway. I still have hopes for Labor Day. It is not entirely Paul-the-contractor's fault; the electrician kept standing him up, his client's mania for windows keeps intruding.
I am not coming off as very heroic, since I am doing a terrible job trying to get things put away before the room they are in is destroyed. I tend to creep away upstairs and murmur "This is not happening."
The switch on the washing machine needs fixing, as it now needs to be turned on freshly for each chunk of the cycle. I am trying to impress on Paul that we have a subsidiary fridge in Doug's kitchen and getting the washer hooked back up (he plans to detach it soon) is much more urgent. I may not eat but I do get clothes dirty. The subsidiary kitchen and bathroom have been helpful in not making me entirely bedroom-dwelling (like some species of lemur?).
It is raining every day. Often with serious consequences somewhere not all that far from here. A seven-year old drowned last night when her family's car was caught in a flash flood last night. This is not The Old West, here. I have never heard so many people complaining because they cannot get a spare, dry moment to cut their lawns.
The cats are not being very nice to one another. There are also two raccoons walking through the background, one of whom follows the other making heartrending grunting, squealing noises. Since they want to come inside and eat the cat food, I have to be careful to shut the cat door. The cats are not happy about this because it makes it harder to go hang out at the bar or the mall or wherever they go (I bet they smoke).
Today I am driving to New Jersey, to get my daughter (and drop off some possessions, or we would all be doing this by train) and take her to her boyfriend's house so his family can include her in their trip to Disney World. I don't want to be snarky about New Jersey, but I don't recall it as the Garden State from my life there in the 60's. My daughter is now working at the university where my father used to. She says it is often humid. I am trying not to say, constantly, "Well, that's New Jersey." She is loving the ethnic food in the markets.
Maybe it isn't having a monsoon there.
I am not coming off as very heroic, since I am doing a terrible job trying to get things put away before the room they are in is destroyed. I tend to creep away upstairs and murmur "This is not happening."
The switch on the washing machine needs fixing, as it now needs to be turned on freshly for each chunk of the cycle. I am trying to impress on Paul that we have a subsidiary fridge in Doug's kitchen and getting the washer hooked back up (he plans to detach it soon) is much more urgent. I may not eat but I do get clothes dirty. The subsidiary kitchen and bathroom have been helpful in not making me entirely bedroom-dwelling (like some species of lemur?).
It is raining every day. Often with serious consequences somewhere not all that far from here. A seven-year old drowned last night when her family's car was caught in a flash flood last night. This is not The Old West, here. I have never heard so many people complaining because they cannot get a spare, dry moment to cut their lawns.
The cats are not being very nice to one another. There are also two raccoons walking through the background, one of whom follows the other making heartrending grunting, squealing noises. Since they want to come inside and eat the cat food, I have to be careful to shut the cat door. The cats are not happy about this because it makes it harder to go hang out at the bar or the mall or wherever they go (I bet they smoke).
Today I am driving to New Jersey, to get my daughter (and drop off some possessions, or we would all be doing this by train) and take her to her boyfriend's house so his family can include her in their trip to Disney World. I don't want to be snarky about New Jersey, but I don't recall it as the Garden State from my life there in the 60's. My daughter is now working at the university where my father used to. She says it is often humid. I am trying not to say, constantly, "Well, that's New Jersey." She is loving the ethnic food in the markets.
Maybe it isn't having a monsoon there.
Sunday, August 03, 2008
I'm turning amphibian
Or maybe amphibious. Or just growing webs between my toes. It rains often. I rarely see the length of my driveway when I wake up in the morning.
I have been home from digging for just over a week, and only taken one mental health day since. My boss is in Palestine and environs, but business has actually picked up a smidge and there was enough work to actually work most of the time.
Quebec was great. It didn't rain very much, most of us found a few flakes or more (I am being brave; I found a few flakes, Dick and Heather and Matt found about 200, and George and Linda found flakes that had been used as tools. Will found part of a biface and Nathaniel got skunked. Ronan found most of a fluted point, but he is from Brittany and deserves something for coming so far. But the point was made out of either Mt. Jasper rhyolite or Jefferson rhyolite, New Hampshire either way, so we were able to share in the happiness. It is very fine to think of the PaleoIndians making the same journey we did) and the team from U.Montreal continue to make us feel very welcome and put up with people mangling their beautiful language.
I thought digging was like Boot Camp and so I would be able magically to do 30 minutes on the elliptical trainer. Indeed, I can, without any immediate ill effects, except that by 3 pm I start wondering how soon they will let me go to sleep. And my leg muscles say this was not the boot camp they attended, and my feet have decided that trendy people have heel-spur type issues. This has not been helped by the disappearance, upon my return, of one of the most comfortable shoes in the world (or they may be the Venice. They look similar. Mine are black and make my feet look like ninjas.). I have tidied the room in which the widowed mate was found repeatedly and I am baffled. The Chacos, former holders of Most Comfortable title, are apparently not being supportive and cushiony enough anymore.
It was sticky hot (high 80's F) most of the week so I tended to find myself reading The Curse of the Spellmans (this and the work to which it is sequel are very funny books) in the air-conditioned bookstore. My kitchen is making very slow progress (this is not a surprise), perhaps because my contractor is being played by his electricians. We hope for serious work this week. I am betting it will be mostly done by Labor Day.
We will not speak of the garden, which is FINE, but so are the rampant Queen Anne's Lace and Evening Primrose. Willow continues to try to add Toby to her dinner, and she and Marten had words at about four this morning. I tell myself they will be happier when we have a kitchen again (and family dinner, and do our homework and watch Laugh-In together).
I haven't been knitting or embroidering, perhaps because I lack the brain cells, or perhaps because I had to reread all of Armistead Maupin's Tales of the City so I can borrow the new one from Sarah.
And then I got my copy of the fifth Temeraire novel back from Doug (who persists in moving out, but slowly; I've told the cats but they don't believe me)and had to reread that.
And today, in between downpours, I stalked the League of NH Craftsmen Fair where strangers forced me to buy another mug...actually two, and a milk jug. Then I sat and spindled while Sarah spun on behalf of Canterbury Shaker Village. Now I am home hoping to stay awake till 9pm, which, considering how much sleep I had last night, is silly. I should feel fine till at least 9:15.
I have been home from digging for just over a week, and only taken one mental health day since. My boss is in Palestine and environs, but business has actually picked up a smidge and there was enough work to actually work most of the time.
Quebec was great. It didn't rain very much, most of us found a few flakes or more (I am being brave; I found a few flakes, Dick and Heather and Matt found about 200, and George and Linda found flakes that had been used as tools. Will found part of a biface and Nathaniel got skunked. Ronan found most of a fluted point, but he is from Brittany and deserves something for coming so far. But the point was made out of either Mt. Jasper rhyolite or Jefferson rhyolite, New Hampshire either way, so we were able to share in the happiness. It is very fine to think of the PaleoIndians making the same journey we did) and the team from U.Montreal continue to make us feel very welcome and put up with people mangling their beautiful language.
I thought digging was like Boot Camp and so I would be able magically to do 30 minutes on the elliptical trainer. Indeed, I can, without any immediate ill effects, except that by 3 pm I start wondering how soon they will let me go to sleep. And my leg muscles say this was not the boot camp they attended, and my feet have decided that trendy people have heel-spur type issues. This has not been helped by the disappearance, upon my return, of one of the most comfortable shoes in the world (or they may be the Venice. They look similar. Mine are black and make my feet look like ninjas.). I have tidied the room in which the widowed mate was found repeatedly and I am baffled. The Chacos, former holders of Most Comfortable title, are apparently not being supportive and cushiony enough anymore.
It was sticky hot (high 80's F) most of the week so I tended to find myself reading The Curse of the Spellmans (this and the work to which it is sequel are very funny books) in the air-conditioned bookstore. My kitchen is making very slow progress (this is not a surprise), perhaps because my contractor is being played by his electricians. We hope for serious work this week. I am betting it will be mostly done by Labor Day.
We will not speak of the garden, which is FINE, but so are the rampant Queen Anne's Lace and Evening Primrose. Willow continues to try to add Toby to her dinner, and she and Marten had words at about four this morning. I tell myself they will be happier when we have a kitchen again (and family dinner, and do our homework and watch Laugh-In together).
I haven't been knitting or embroidering, perhaps because I lack the brain cells, or perhaps because I had to reread all of Armistead Maupin's Tales of the City so I can borrow the new one from Sarah.
And then I got my copy of the fifth Temeraire novel back from Doug (who persists in moving out, but slowly; I've told the cats but they don't believe me)and had to reread that.
And today, in between downpours, I stalked the League of NH Craftsmen Fair where strangers forced me to buy another mug...actually two, and a milk jug. Then I sat and spindled while Sarah spun on behalf of Canterbury Shaker Village. Now I am home hoping to stay awake till 9pm, which, considering how much sleep I had last night, is silly. I should feel fine till at least 9:15.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Maximum entropy
After four weeks of field school, I am home till Tuesday, when eight of us will drive up and dig in Quebec. It is possible that some of us are a little tired, although we also have pretty much our chops as much we will get them: forearms like steel, livers like shoeleather, and a sense that six a.m. is kind of late to sleep in. And ten pm.m is definitely late to stay up.
I loved it.
The bugs were much much better the second two weeks. The weather was at times hot and often humid but we were only actually rained out on the last day. We found stuff.
Right now at home I am in contractor hell: he is waiting for things to arrive and we are hoping the tarp will stay on the pile of Future Kitchen of America on the front porch. Sarah brought me four fleeces to wash, which was fun given that I was already hot and sweaty and the fleeces smell agreeably like a fiber festival. Sarah has unloosed her Inner Tidy Person and is giving the anteroom What For, after sorting out a number of things in the loom room and making the living room much less awful (the living room is full of the Present Kitchen of America).
Sarah is a saint.
Soon we will have dinner.
I loved it.
The bugs were much much better the second two weeks. The weather was at times hot and often humid but we were only actually rained out on the last day. We found stuff.
Right now at home I am in contractor hell: he is waiting for things to arrive and we are hoping the tarp will stay on the pile of Future Kitchen of America on the front porch. Sarah brought me four fleeces to wash, which was fun given that I was already hot and sweaty and the fleeces smell agreeably like a fiber festival. Sarah has unloosed her Inner Tidy Person and is giving the anteroom What For, after sorting out a number of things in the loom room and making the living room much less awful (the living room is full of the Present Kitchen of America).
Sarah is a saint.
Soon we will have dinner.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Sticky
I was home for the weekend, and now I am back in Randolph. At home, I awoke to solid fog beyond the deck off my bedroom on both days, and I am not sure it really cleared much. It rained most of yesterday evening and into the night. This morning it has been managing not to rain, but Coös County is under a flash flood warning, and back at home, my driveway is starting to wash out. I am sitting outside the cabin not being bitten by bugs, wondering at the cabin's ability to be stuffy even with all the windows open. It's said to be 81 F.
I did go to work yesterday,managed to clear up anything that had accumulated in about 3.5 hours, which suggests it is not very busy there this time of year. Even I find it hard to complain about a one-day work week, and they let me sleep late and listen to NHPR. I avoid such intimate contact with the real world (The NYT online is close enough) while digging but I hadn't missed anything there, either. About all that happened at home was the raccoons, maddened by our removal of the birdseed from their access, tore a hole in a large thick plastic bottle of the sort that sometimes contains bleach. In tis case it contained (note tense of verb) fish and seaweed emulsion fertilizer. While not anywhere near up there with dead moose, the smell in the anteroom is pretty awful and some kind of serious response will be called for when I get back, possibly setting fire to the carpet.
The raccoons also fought all last night while raiding the birdfeeders (you would think a daring midnight raid, they's be quiet, but no) ousdie the bedroom. The only wildlife I have seen in the Mt Washington Valley this trip was the bear and the woodchuck crossing the street in a nice residential area of Berlin on Friday morning, so I suppose being kept awake by raccoons at home fits in. The dig is going very well; we have been incredibly lucky with the weather, while a sister dig in Portsmouth has been rained out most of the days last week.
I was supposed to pack up the kitchen for the Great Leap Forward the contractor says will begin this coming week, but there were no boxes available in Concord on Saturday (well, there were, but they were too low down in the Borders dumpster to reach). The liquor stores had had a run on theirs. In the end I stole a bunch of Doug's boxes for packing to move to his GF's, (he has forgiven me) and got most of the kitchen packed up. I am wondering if the proliferation of soy-sauce bottles with about 1 2/2 tablespoons (say 20 ml)of contents left is something like what happens with wire hangers. Or maybe that's what knitting needles and ballpoint pens leave in their place when they disappear.
The dig is going very well. The more I think of it, the more a group of people getting together in a given location for a couple of weeks for a particular purpose and drinking and telling stories (and sharing the cooking, so one only cooks or cleans once a week or less) at night seems like shepherds getting like sheep. We still don't know quite what the paleo people were doing here (woodwork, among other things, and getting fresh tool-stone)but I hope they had good luck with the weather and as pleasant a time as I am having.
I did go to work yesterday,managed to clear up anything that had accumulated in about 3.5 hours, which suggests it is not very busy there this time of year. Even I find it hard to complain about a one-day work week, and they let me sleep late and listen to NHPR. I avoid such intimate contact with the real world (The NYT online is close enough) while digging but I hadn't missed anything there, either. About all that happened at home was the raccoons, maddened by our removal of the birdseed from their access, tore a hole in a large thick plastic bottle of the sort that sometimes contains bleach. In tis case it contained (note tense of verb) fish and seaweed emulsion fertilizer. While not anywhere near up there with dead moose, the smell in the anteroom is pretty awful and some kind of serious response will be called for when I get back, possibly setting fire to the carpet.
The raccoons also fought all last night while raiding the birdfeeders (you would think a daring midnight raid, they's be quiet, but no) ousdie the bedroom. The only wildlife I have seen in the Mt Washington Valley this trip was the bear and the woodchuck crossing the street in a nice residential area of Berlin on Friday morning, so I suppose being kept awake by raccoons at home fits in. The dig is going very well; we have been incredibly lucky with the weather, while a sister dig in Portsmouth has been rained out most of the days last week.
I was supposed to pack up the kitchen for the Great Leap Forward the contractor says will begin this coming week, but there were no boxes available in Concord on Saturday (well, there were, but they were too low down in the Borders dumpster to reach). The liquor stores had had a run on theirs. In the end I stole a bunch of Doug's boxes for packing to move to his GF's, (he has forgiven me) and got most of the kitchen packed up. I am wondering if the proliferation of soy-sauce bottles with about 1 2/2 tablespoons (say 20 ml)of contents left is something like what happens with wire hangers. Or maybe that's what knitting needles and ballpoint pens leave in their place when they disappear.
The dig is going very well. The more I think of it, the more a group of people getting together in a given location for a couple of weeks for a particular purpose and drinking and telling stories (and sharing the cooking, so one only cooks or cleans once a week or less) at night seems like shepherds getting like sheep. We still don't know quite what the paleo people were doing here (woodwork, among other things, and getting fresh tool-stone)but I hope they had good luck with the weather and as pleasant a time as I am having.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Packing, really, honestly
I am an hour and a half away from leaving for field school. I need to put things in the car. I am about 20 minutes from putting things in the car (wind a skein of sock yarn into a ball). It is pitilessly humid though not too hot yet.
Friday was the Only Beloved Daughter's Birthday. I went to meet her in Boston, with my my parents and her father and her boyfriend, and she made delicious chili and an even better cake. It was good, although the usual birthday discussions of the future were marred by our all having Done To Death "When are you Moving?" Sometime next week. It depends. She is fed up because too much is in flux nad the lease does all ow pets. This is a disappointment. She can't say much about her summer job doing research for the department chairman of her grad school, either. Flux. It is like limbo but with more blanket-tossing.
I spent the night at my parents', which is always pleasant. They have a back-patio container garden with many many pots of flowers. Sometimes they have a peregrine falcon living on the roof, but the chicks have flown and so has the falcon.
I went to see "King-Fu Panda" with a friend I have known for almost thirty-nine years. Since neither of us is over 25, this seems unlikely. "Kung-Fu Panda" (my friend likes pandas, I liked the clips on the NYTimes web site, we wanted to see one another) was enjoyable and I have seen many, many worse films. So the theme was stupid ("Believe in yourself and nothing is impossible."); it wasn't offensive or pernicious or suggesting I should buy anything. This movie did not make me ashamed to be a human being, and the animation and the art were really lovely. We had lunch at a Thai diner in Woburn with Daughter and Boyfriend and the company and food were lovely.
I may be the only person in the world who gets a manicure before setting off on an excavation. Digging tears up the hands. I have fragile nails and shreddy cuticles at best. Now my nails are short enough they won't break and the cuticles are as tidy as can be, and I have a very subtle glittery gloss of acrylic sparkles.
Then I came home and complained about being a 51-year-old mother of two who still has menstrual cramps. It was a great excuse to put off packing. Ithink I have run out of them... maybe I'll brush my teeth.
Friday was the Only Beloved Daughter's Birthday. I went to meet her in Boston, with my my parents and her father and her boyfriend, and she made delicious chili and an even better cake. It was good, although the usual birthday discussions of the future were marred by our all having Done To Death "When are you Moving?" Sometime next week. It depends. She is fed up because too much is in flux nad the lease does all ow pets. This is a disappointment. She can't say much about her summer job doing research for the department chairman of her grad school, either. Flux. It is like limbo but with more blanket-tossing.
I spent the night at my parents', which is always pleasant. They have a back-patio container garden with many many pots of flowers. Sometimes they have a peregrine falcon living on the roof, but the chicks have flown and so has the falcon.
I went to see "King-Fu Panda" with a friend I have known for almost thirty-nine years. Since neither of us is over 25, this seems unlikely. "Kung-Fu Panda" (my friend likes pandas, I liked the clips on the NYTimes web site, we wanted to see one another) was enjoyable and I have seen many, many worse films. So the theme was stupid ("Believe in yourself and nothing is impossible."); it wasn't offensive or pernicious or suggesting I should buy anything. This movie did not make me ashamed to be a human being, and the animation and the art were really lovely. We had lunch at a Thai diner in Woburn with Daughter and Boyfriend and the company and food were lovely.
I may be the only person in the world who gets a manicure before setting off on an excavation. Digging tears up the hands. I have fragile nails and shreddy cuticles at best. Now my nails are short enough they won't break and the cuticles are as tidy as can be, and I have a very subtle glittery gloss of acrylic sparkles.
Then I came home and complained about being a 51-year-old mother of two who still has menstrual cramps. It was a great excuse to put off packing. Ithink I have run out of them... maybe I'll brush my teeth.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
and so, forth
Getting two people graduated from college (considering they did all the work) and having a fit of pique because No One Understands Me and in Particular No One In New Hampshire (other than Sarah) Has ever Heard of the Blogisphere (I am not kidding. My knit shop doesn't read anything. I think they are seriously foolish but it's a darned good LYS), and also There Is No One in My Office But Me and my work verges on the meaningless
these things can surely not contribute to a lingering feeling of doom and depression, can they?
Maybe a little.
The terribly hot weather last week nearly killed me.
My feet would like me to lose about fifty pounds. Or five. I don't think it's going to happen. The hotter it gets outside the less inclined I am to garden or anything else. And the chickens have torn up my flowerpots and done no real good to the few places I have weeded.
I suppose the fact that Doug is moving out of here and in with his lady-love might not be contributing to a feeling of well-being either. And he won't take the rooster.
On the plus side, I have had three days of the Only Beloved Daughter's cooking and company, before she moves to New Jersey, where her apartment-mate (a Craigslist find) forgot she wanted to have a cat. And some other things. Her father and I have offered to have him killed but she asked us to hold off.
Her father, whose ankle is not really all better from being sprained last fall, has sprained the other one (and will wear heels less. Being a woman is hazardous.) and is the parent-of-transport for moving the daughter to NJ. I think I may end up missing some field school to help her move.
Part of me would like to be starting a new life and graduate school, even in New Jersey and even recognizing that the OBDaughter (by graduating) has lost a huge chunk of her social life and her home, and will be now (or once in NJ) about 3 times farther from her boyfriend, and the cats she graciously loves even though she did not grow up with them (of the four, the third one died the day after she graduated, leaving only Shenzi who lives with the daughter's father. More her brother's cat, really, but awful timing), and me, although since she hates where I live this is not such a trial.
Right, PLUS SIDE: it's now unseasonably cool and lovely, and I am not anywhere near a flooding river. I have regularly visiting indigo bunting, evening and rose-breasted grosbeaks, and a bunch of more monochromatic birds whom I like anyway. The peonies have been spectacular, if kind of sucker-punched by the heat.
Field school should be fun, although it is a historically amazing year for ticks.
I am nearly done with the top of a quilt in rows of pieced triangles -- something like eighteen rows of fourteen units -- for the OBD. It is very pretty and bright-- bright, though not loud, which is interesting. More interesting is a chirality-challenged person trying to make even, straight sides to a saw-toothed object. One who is too parsimonious to just rotary-whack down through the least common sided-ness (besides, since it took awhile for the realization to come upon me that the finished item should NOT be a rhombus but more of a rectangle, the waste would be huge and the result narrow). It may be finished by the end of July but not before field school, alas.
My sewing machine is patient.
My knees are pretty good.
I am mostly somewhat packed.
It is not absolutely certain that McCain will win.
Oh, and through the graciousness of an immediate ancestor I am having Work Done on my kitchen, which will probably improve my life.It will certainly make the kitchen and dining area less annoying and much brighter. Only I feel unworthy and wonder if I ought to be begging for help paying my taxes instead. Also, I think at this point I am supposed to be supporting my parents, and not being propped up by them.
Sometimes we wonder if my anti-depressant has lost its effectiveness.
Since I am not blogging my dig, as such, if you would like to get regular (somewhat) Tales of Life in The Woods and Test-pits, please email me at channelflakeATTTgmailDOTTcom.
these things can surely not contribute to a lingering feeling of doom and depression, can they?
Maybe a little.
The terribly hot weather last week nearly killed me.
My feet would like me to lose about fifty pounds. Or five. I don't think it's going to happen. The hotter it gets outside the less inclined I am to garden or anything else. And the chickens have torn up my flowerpots and done no real good to the few places I have weeded.
I suppose the fact that Doug is moving out of here and in with his lady-love might not be contributing to a feeling of well-being either. And he won't take the rooster.
On the plus side, I have had three days of the Only Beloved Daughter's cooking and company, before she moves to New Jersey, where her apartment-mate (a Craigslist find) forgot she wanted to have a cat. And some other things. Her father and I have offered to have him killed but she asked us to hold off.
Her father, whose ankle is not really all better from being sprained last fall, has sprained the other one (and will wear heels less. Being a woman is hazardous.) and is the parent-of-transport for moving the daughter to NJ. I think I may end up missing some field school to help her move.
Part of me would like to be starting a new life and graduate school, even in New Jersey and even recognizing that the OBDaughter (by graduating) has lost a huge chunk of her social life and her home, and will be now (or once in NJ) about 3 times farther from her boyfriend, and the cats she graciously loves even though she did not grow up with them (of the four, the third one died the day after she graduated, leaving only Shenzi who lives with the daughter's father. More her brother's cat, really, but awful timing), and me, although since she hates where I live this is not such a trial.
Right, PLUS SIDE: it's now unseasonably cool and lovely, and I am not anywhere near a flooding river. I have regularly visiting indigo bunting, evening and rose-breasted grosbeaks, and a bunch of more monochromatic birds whom I like anyway. The peonies have been spectacular, if kind of sucker-punched by the heat.
Field school should be fun, although it is a historically amazing year for ticks.
I am nearly done with the top of a quilt in rows of pieced triangles -- something like eighteen rows of fourteen units -- for the OBD. It is very pretty and bright-- bright, though not loud, which is interesting. More interesting is a chirality-challenged person trying to make even, straight sides to a saw-toothed object. One who is too parsimonious to just rotary-whack down through the least common sided-ness (besides, since it took awhile for the realization to come upon me that the finished item should NOT be a rhombus but more of a rectangle, the waste would be huge and the result narrow). It may be finished by the end of July but not before field school, alas.
My sewing machine is patient.
My knees are pretty good.
I am mostly somewhat packed.
It is not absolutely certain that McCain will win.
Oh, and through the graciousness of an immediate ancestor I am having Work Done on my kitchen, which will probably improve my life.It will certainly make the kitchen and dining area less annoying and much brighter. Only I feel unworthy and wonder if I ought to be begging for help paying my taxes instead. Also, I think at this point I am supposed to be supporting my parents, and not being propped up by them.
Sometimes we wonder if my anti-depressant has lost its effectiveness.
Since I am not blogging my dig, as such, if you would like to get regular (somewhat) Tales of Life in The Woods and Test-pits, please email me at channelflakeATTTgmailDOTTcom.
what the world eats
Sixteen shots of sixteen families with the food they eat for a week. It takes too long to load but it's fascinating.
http://www.time.com/time/photogallery/0,29307,1626519_1373664,00.html
http://www.time.com/time/photogallery/0,29307,1626519_1373664,00.html
Thursday, June 05, 2008
Emo kid
I am not feeling that life is full of mystery and wonder. I am feeling that whatever I do the reply is "That's interesting, but not really what we want." This is not tending to make me more optimistic or "passionate" (the human services buzzword of the year).
Specifically, today: Dick says he has received flak because "some of my comments, people think reflects badly on SCRAP as a whole." He then cited some remark I am supposed to have made about someone never emptying their own bucket, which I don't remember saying. I have really tried to be upbeat and cheery and honest.
I already do as much self-censorship and reaching out to people who don't know what archaeology is about as I can and it is boring me. So I am quitting blogging on New Hampshire Underground.
At least it rained, even if not very much, yesterday. The colorful birds continue to show up.
Specifically, today: Dick says he has received flak because "some of my comments, people think reflects badly on SCRAP as a whole." He then cited some remark I am supposed to have made about someone never emptying their own bucket, which I don't remember saying. I have really tried to be upbeat and cheery and honest.
I already do as much self-censorship and reaching out to people who don't know what archaeology is about as I can and it is boring me. So I am quitting blogging on New Hampshire Underground.
At least it rained, even if not very much, yesterday. The colorful birds continue to show up.
Saturday, May 24, 2008
here we are
Late spring, verging on summer, except that it has not been disgustingly hot or too boringly cloudy or sticky-cold-humid lately. We need rain, in fact. But given that it feels too hot at 70 F I think I am acclimatized to winter.
The tadpoles are not in sight. I hope they are hiding under the leaves and not dead. We have a single green frog, but I haven't seen the newt lately.
The shrubs over-pruned by deer are coming back. The metasequoia looks like a furry green pole, poor dear.
The violas I planted the first year here apparently found the winter too much, which is surprising; I thought they were indestructible.
The hummingbird has returned. So far I am pretty sure I have only seen one male, but he may have been seeing someone off; I couldn't tell if I saw another hummingbird of had a hallucination. Some of those hallucinations are pretty quick.
But the goldfinches and the evening grosbeaks and the rose-breasted grosbeaks are back and today we had a visit from the indigo bunting, which is pretty darn cool. This year he was in full sun instead of backlit and there was no doubt.
As to crafts, the quilt for the daughter was not far along, but that is okay because she does not like Laurel Burch and I do. Instead of giving her that quilt, I had the far greater pleasure of seeing the daughter zone out in a quilt store surrounded by fat quarters. She likes colors.
I wish I had a picture of that, but here's one of me taken by Sarah.
The tadpoles are not in sight. I hope they are hiding under the leaves and not dead. We have a single green frog, but I haven't seen the newt lately.
The shrubs over-pruned by deer are coming back. The metasequoia looks like a furry green pole, poor dear.
The violas I planted the first year here apparently found the winter too much, which is surprising; I thought they were indestructible.
The hummingbird has returned. So far I am pretty sure I have only seen one male, but he may have been seeing someone off; I couldn't tell if I saw another hummingbird of had a hallucination. Some of those hallucinations are pretty quick.
But the goldfinches and the evening grosbeaks and the rose-breasted grosbeaks are back and today we had a visit from the indigo bunting, which is pretty darn cool. This year he was in full sun instead of backlit and there was no doubt.
As to crafts, the quilt for the daughter was not far along, but that is okay because she does not like Laurel Burch and I do. Instead of giving her that quilt, I had the far greater pleasure of seeing the daughter zone out in a quilt store surrounded by fat quarters. She likes colors.
I wish I had a picture of that, but here's one of me taken by Sarah.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Annapolis was excellent
This will be exceedingly short, as I should go to work. The weather was condign, the flying was interminable (at least the part in terminals), the quilt was liked. The BA, the main thing, was obtained by the Only Beloved Son. More photos sometime soon, I hope.
Son and Son's LifePartner
Son and Son's LifePartner
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Yarn Harlot, pray for us
Though I had no speaking engagement (in fact the knowledge that it was Friday and this week's graduation is not till Sunday), this flying gig is not for the faint-hearted. I was supposed to leave Manchester at 3:30. I had thought it was 5:30, and planned a quick trip for some sock yarn (could not find my current unfinished project. Maybe it is time to Do Something about the condition of my house). Instead, left work either a half hour early (I usually leave at 2 ish) or half an hour late (I stayed to finish one of Boss's egregious demands that I should do work now and again) and rocketted off following the signs to the airport. This meant, as usual, a turn into unmarked suburbs and a harried U-turn with map, etc. Found airport, eventually found Lot D and walked to terminal. Checked in.
Plane delayed till at least 4:30. Then six. They decided to get rid of us after the plane, stuck in Philly, was scheduled to arrive around nine. Sent us to La Guardia, where I was one of four passengers and a very thoughtful air hostess. We arrived in NY around five. Connection scheduled for five, next connection at six. The six was delayed until at least 8. Decided to check status of alleged 5, now delayed until six. Then seven. Then eight. Around ten of eight, they got us onto a working airplane, and I reached Baltimore at 10:30, where my ex (who drove down from Boston) met me and took us to to the hotel, which had beds. So far, so good.
Manchester has free wireless. La Guardia claims it does, but they wouldn't actually work, though the $7.95 for 24 hrs. worked fine. I did not indulge. I ate an allegedly 'Healthy Vegetable' burrito, containing very tasty fried potatoes, iceberg lettuce, sour cream, and one of the hottest peppers I have ever eaten in public. Succeeded in getting my not-an-iPod to play me Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere. It is a sad pity he is married. Embroidered a tiny project that was intended to alleviate boredom from knitting sock or reading book (no book, either). The only good thing was that I did have food and chocolate and not too much to carry. I had to check my bag because of The Quilt, which might have fit the middle-sized bag hoarded by my daughter, but was certainly not going to fit in little bag. Big bag is huge and will be going home with ex.
Plane delayed till at least 4:30. Then six. They decided to get rid of us after the plane, stuck in Philly, was scheduled to arrive around nine. Sent us to La Guardia, where I was one of four passengers and a very thoughtful air hostess. We arrived in NY around five. Connection scheduled for five, next connection at six. The six was delayed until at least 8. Decided to check status of alleged 5, now delayed until six. Then seven. Then eight. Around ten of eight, they got us onto a working airplane, and I reached Baltimore at 10:30, where my ex (who drove down from Boston) met me and took us to to the hotel, which had beds. So far, so good.
Manchester has free wireless. La Guardia claims it does, but they wouldn't actually work, though the $7.95 for 24 hrs. worked fine. I did not indulge. I ate an allegedly 'Healthy Vegetable' burrito, containing very tasty fried potatoes, iceberg lettuce, sour cream, and one of the hottest peppers I have ever eaten in public. Succeeded in getting my not-an-iPod to play me Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere. It is a sad pity he is married. Embroidered a tiny project that was intended to alleviate boredom from knitting sock or reading book (no book, either). The only good thing was that I did have food and chocolate and not too much to carry. I had to check my bag because of The Quilt, which might have fit the middle-sized bag hoarded by my daughter, but was certainly not going to fit in little bag. Big bag is huge and will be going home with ex.
Monday, May 05, 2008
possibly
Sunlight on new leaves
After three days' rain (with frost)
But now it's Monday.
On the plus side, the enormous quilt is nearly done, largely because of heroic support (including more than a few knots) by Sarah. The only problem with working on a quilt essentially solidly for two days is that it left me exhausted and unable to talk except about what to do next (mostly put seven ties in each of 56 squares). The quilt is about a solid C (with a B+ for ambition). Definitely warm, not at all unattractive (picture next week), one major, visible fudge (I know it seemed like the only thing to do at the time) and after all is said and nearly all done, one upside down square. That I have noticed so far. Nor have I really plumbed the mystery of stitching in the ditch. But it won't fall apart. I hope Favorite Son likes it. It has little kinship with the magnificent actually quilt-stitched objects of Too Much Wool . But I never signed on to the intricacies of hand-quilting; this is a 20th century confection with big pieces of purpose-bought cloth. Something like the difference between this and this
. Both of them are perfectly valid embroidery but you you would never mistake one for the other.
I know the kitty would be faster to make.
So I have a small other quilt literally on the table (all over it, under the black and red scraps. There was some kind of dissonance when Sarah handed me a plate of steaming, bean-enhanced chips 'n'cheese'n'salsa and I hurried away from the dining table, away from handicrafts, to eat it sitting on the couch) that I hope to make before the second graduation on May 18, but I need to keep in mind that next weekend is totalled by the first graduation and I have less time than I think. It is essential not to decide it should be a double-bed size rather than a small charming wall-hanging. ESSENTIAL.
Sarah, as well as making food, tying at least twelve squares, and pointing out that I was Nearly Done when I began to faint by the trail, finished piecing her Rail Fence top, the project that began this terrible episode in our mutually-enabling craft lives. She also took studio-quality portraits of Marten and Willow for Catbook. Marten and Willow, who were bored with the weather, helped as much as I would let them and sometimes more than I wanted. Strips of cloth are a threat and they were determined to protect me. Pieced sheets hanging from ironing boards and pinned above doorways were obviously intended for them and they were very pleased. I am so glad Sam will get a cat that _comes with_ cat hair, which will save him a lot of time.
I have bought a few things at the plant nursery (there's one near the quilt shop), mostly scented geraniums I will have in the sunny windows where I work. I put violas and snapdragons in the sterile institutional planting (don't get me started about whoever put pachysandra into full sun) where I work and they make me happy every single time I park. I also planted two peony roots and a miserable couple of daylily roots from Home Depot there. We shall see if they make it. At home, my asparagus got frostbit (it tasted interesting; I think the tips I ate were fermenting) and the tadpoles are coming along. A newt has been around in the puddle. It's freakin' cold.
We actually have goldfinches again. The raccoons are letting up on the feeder depredation. No deer have been sighted lately.
After three days' rain (with frost)
But now it's Monday.
On the plus side, the enormous quilt is nearly done, largely because of heroic support (including more than a few knots) by Sarah. The only problem with working on a quilt essentially solidly for two days is that it left me exhausted and unable to talk except about what to do next (mostly put seven ties in each of 56 squares). The quilt is about a solid C (with a B+ for ambition). Definitely warm, not at all unattractive (picture next week), one major, visible fudge (I know it seemed like the only thing to do at the time) and after all is said and nearly all done, one upside down square. That I have noticed so far. Nor have I really plumbed the mystery of stitching in the ditch. But it won't fall apart. I hope Favorite Son likes it. It has little kinship with the magnificent actually quilt-stitched objects of Too Much Wool . But I never signed on to the intricacies of hand-quilting; this is a 20th century confection with big pieces of purpose-bought cloth. Something like the difference between this and this
. Both of them are perfectly valid embroidery but you you would never mistake one for the other.
I know the kitty would be faster to make.
So I have a small other quilt literally on the table (all over it, under the black and red scraps. There was some kind of dissonance when Sarah handed me a plate of steaming, bean-enhanced chips 'n'cheese'n'salsa and I hurried away from the dining table, away from handicrafts, to eat it sitting on the couch) that I hope to make before the second graduation on May 18, but I need to keep in mind that next weekend is totalled by the first graduation and I have less time than I think. It is essential not to decide it should be a double-bed size rather than a small charming wall-hanging. ESSENTIAL.
Sarah, as well as making food, tying at least twelve squares, and pointing out that I was Nearly Done when I began to faint by the trail, finished piecing her Rail Fence top, the project that began this terrible episode in our mutually-enabling craft lives. She also took studio-quality portraits of Marten and Willow for Catbook. Marten and Willow, who were bored with the weather, helped as much as I would let them and sometimes more than I wanted. Strips of cloth are a threat and they were determined to protect me. Pieced sheets hanging from ironing boards and pinned above doorways were obviously intended for them and they were very pleased. I am so glad Sam will get a cat that _comes with_ cat hair, which will save him a lot of time.
I have bought a few things at the plant nursery (there's one near the quilt shop), mostly scented geraniums I will have in the sunny windows where I work. I put violas and snapdragons in the sterile institutional planting (don't get me started about whoever put pachysandra into full sun) where I work and they make me happy every single time I park. I also planted two peony roots and a miserable couple of daylily roots from Home Depot there. We shall see if they make it. At home, my asparagus got frostbit (it tasted interesting; I think the tips I ate were fermenting) and the tadpoles are coming along. A newt has been around in the puddle. It's freakin' cold.
We actually have goldfinches again. The raccoons are letting up on the feeder depredation. No deer have been sighted lately.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
it isn't an event if you aren't hemming something in the car
But 'it' is apparently a king-size quilt (after I specifically told Son I did not have a king-size in me, but I figured out how many squares of pattern I could get out of five yards of batik), and I can't see me hemming it on an airplane, and in fact I hope I will get to that far, and all in all it is a good thing someone keeps sneaking extra weeks into April. I have apparently found the part of my brain that messes around, because I have been doing mirror-image idiocy and needing to unpick yards of chain piecing. Which slows one down.
It's also spring, and has been warm and lovely, not quite enough to get me to do yardwork, but perfect for not wanting to leave the porch swing and go into the dark and cold dining room. Finally--the first rain in at least three weeks-- it is supposed to rain and give the amphibians a chance to have hot-tub orgies. We have had brushfire warning as soon as the snow lifted, and though we dodged the melting-floods bullet, everything is still wet and the rivers are high, so we are having a floodwatch. It's not really dramatic, thank goodness, but it is confusing.
As of yesterday I had one tiny pile of snow -- about a gallon-size, but I think my driveway finally has ice-out, April 27.
It's also spring, and has been warm and lovely, not quite enough to get me to do yardwork, but perfect for not wanting to leave the porch swing and go into the dark and cold dining room. Finally--the first rain in at least three weeks-- it is supposed to rain and give the amphibians a chance to have hot-tub orgies. We have had brushfire warning as soon as the snow lifted, and though we dodged the melting-floods bullet, everything is still wet and the rivers are high, so we are having a floodwatch. It's not really dramatic, thank goodness, but it is confusing.
As of yesterday I had one tiny pile of snow -- about a gallon-size, but I think my driveway finally has ice-out, April 27.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Secrets of the Great White North
While Lucy Neatby was teaching us the intricacies of Inner Garter Stitch and the Australian Cousins, she mentioned the Canadian breakfast cereal Shreddies, to universal bewilderment. They look a bit like Chex, but (now it can be told) they are Knitted by Nanas. It makes you wonder about the true purpose of that sock camp Harlot was going on about. Maybe they made her an honorary Nana, for her service as an auntie?
I forgot to mention -- Sarah finished the quilt top, and I have a woodchuck living in what he (not pregnant, probably he) probably thinks is a Bad Neighborhood. There are cats dealing drugs and having gang wars outside his doorstep. His hole is in a retaining wall built by junior and only moderately competent Cyclopes, but I am not worried about undermining.
I forgot to mention -- Sarah finished the quilt top, and I have a woodchuck living in what he (not pregnant, probably he) probably thinks is a Bad Neighborhood. There are cats dealing drugs and having gang wars outside his doorstep. His hole is in a retaining wall built by junior and only moderately competent Cyclopes, but I am not worried about undermining.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Spring
No deer has been sighted since before the last post. The tree peony is pushing up three (four) sprouts from the roots, and crocus has given way to daffodil. On Friday it was 83 F. in Concord, which is too hot.
On Friday night, I heard one peeper and one woodfrog. On Saturday morning, there was an egg-mass in the pond-puddle, so I think it likely that there were two woodfrogs. I am pleased as punch. There is a distant hammer of sapsucker on something metal, and I am very grateful it's not the otherwise without-function TV aerial. Redwing blackbirds appear at the ravaged birdfeeder area (raccoons, who have not been spotted around since I quit filling the largest birdfeeder. Which is one story up, or we would be complaining about bears).
Actual birdsong. Sunburn. It's very pleasant. Much of the ground still looks like it has been belt-sanded, but grass is beginning to grow in.
On the minus side, one of our nicer chickens, Joyce, a duckwing, has not been seen for several days. The last time I saw her she was wandering around _alone_, not something she had done often -- I don't know if she and Faith, the rooster, had a falling out or what, although he has been paying a lot of attention to Buffy. And then when I went to let them out of the coop, I found Auk, a rather (what is chicken for 'androgynous'?) gender-unidentified black Cochin rooster, dead on the floor. The Cochin Bantam, Dawn, who was always with him, was sitting next to his body. But she came out and followed the rest of the flock later -- now reduced to Buffy, Ms. Callendar, Dawn, and Faith (the alpha rooster). Doug said Auk had been a bit listless lately, but it would not have been easy to tell.
On Saturday I went to a class on weird knitting things with Lucy Neatby, who has a rep as an interesting teacher. She well deserves it, and she's funny, and I thoroughly enjoyed the day. We did some strange things learning how to make a knitted-on edge, how to do entrelac in garter stitch (or start to learn how,) sweet little equilateral triangles, and some relatively free-form knitting. It was truly appalling to feel my intellect plummet as the day went on; the women who were taking all three days of her have my respect.
Then I came home and did quilting-related activities with Sarah, whose blue and brown quilt will be lovely (in a blue and brown way, but the darkness of the brown actually makes it look less like a cloudy winter day than I was worried about) if the blood she is sweating on it doesn't stain too much. Curves are a bhitch, even when you are as good at measuring. So, to relax, she made me a pincushion out of some Japanese charm squares. It looks pre-war (WWII, all right?). It's lovely.
To my delight, I apparently took the lessons I learned making an attic window quilt in about 1995, because I haven't had to redo any of the blocks I made so far (or scream, stick a seam ripper in my eye, cry, you know). It may be a testament to successful aging or good medication. Either way, it is GREAT. I was not among the least comprehending of the knitting students, either, which made a change). This quilt will be much smaller than that one, thank God, and it's a gift so no pictures until it's done and given, which we shall have to hope happens before the Apocalypse. It might.
On Friday night, I heard one peeper and one woodfrog. On Saturday morning, there was an egg-mass in the pond-puddle, so I think it likely that there were two woodfrogs. I am pleased as punch. There is a distant hammer of sapsucker on something metal, and I am very grateful it's not the otherwise without-function TV aerial. Redwing blackbirds appear at the ravaged birdfeeder area (raccoons, who have not been spotted around since I quit filling the largest birdfeeder. Which is one story up, or we would be complaining about bears).
Actual birdsong. Sunburn. It's very pleasant. Much of the ground still looks like it has been belt-sanded, but grass is beginning to grow in.
On the minus side, one of our nicer chickens, Joyce, a duckwing, has not been seen for several days. The last time I saw her she was wandering around _alone_, not something she had done often -- I don't know if she and Faith, the rooster, had a falling out or what, although he has been paying a lot of attention to Buffy. And then when I went to let them out of the coop, I found Auk, a rather (what is chicken for 'androgynous'?) gender-unidentified black Cochin rooster, dead on the floor. The Cochin Bantam, Dawn, who was always with him, was sitting next to his body. But she came out and followed the rest of the flock later -- now reduced to Buffy, Ms. Callendar, Dawn, and Faith (the alpha rooster). Doug said Auk had been a bit listless lately, but it would not have been easy to tell.
On Saturday I went to a class on weird knitting things with Lucy Neatby, who has a rep as an interesting teacher. She well deserves it, and she's funny, and I thoroughly enjoyed the day. We did some strange things learning how to make a knitted-on edge, how to do entrelac in garter stitch (or start to learn how,) sweet little equilateral triangles, and some relatively free-form knitting. It was truly appalling to feel my intellect plummet as the day went on; the women who were taking all three days of her have my respect.
Then I came home and did quilting-related activities with Sarah, whose blue and brown quilt will be lovely (in a blue and brown way, but the darkness of the brown actually makes it look less like a cloudy winter day than I was worried about) if the blood she is sweating on it doesn't stain too much. Curves are a bhitch, even when you are as good at measuring. So, to relax, she made me a pincushion out of some Japanese charm squares. It looks pre-war (WWII, all right?). It's lovely.
To my delight, I apparently took the lessons I learned making an attic window quilt in about 1995, because I haven't had to redo any of the blocks I made so far (or scream, stick a seam ripper in my eye, cry, you know). It may be a testament to successful aging or good medication. Either way, it is GREAT. I was not among the least comprehending of the knitting students, either, which made a change). This quilt will be much smaller than that one, thank God, and it's a gift so no pictures until it's done and given, which we shall have to hope happens before the Apocalypse. It might.
Monday, April 14, 2008
They 1/2 E 10 Z rhododendron
And the fringe tree and the holly and the star magnolia and the arbor vitae and the tree peony and some daffodils and substantial amounts of pitch pine and metasequoia. We shall not be greatly troubled by azalea blossom this year. I have to see if they ate the rosebush I have never liked.
"They" being the deer. It was the second snowiest winter in something like 175 years of record-keeping; it was like no other year of the 15 my plough guy has been ploughing this driveway, in that he ran entirely our of places to put the snow. The first three years I was here I saw perhaps one deer a year, mostly eating fallen apples. It's been multiple deer daily for a couple of months, eating atoms and brambles.
I think many of the chomped shrubs will live, though their actually recovering enough to flower may not happen for a few years. I am taking it remarkably calmly, perhaps because not attracting deer has been such a good excuse for not doing more to terraform the garden area.
The recession of the glaciers here (don't mistake these things -- they may not be a mile thick yet but they are Just Waiting, the great icy baftards) has also revealed a touching sprinkle of failed presidential candidate spoor, Romney and Richardson signs coming up like rather bent snowdrops.
One of the weirdest things has been the persistence of light after dinner, usually a sign that it is time to put off raking and weeding, concurrently with huge piles of dirty ice. Land Comets. They are diminishing gradually.
It was supposed to rain all day Saturday, and Doug had scheduled a fiber day in a warm living room -- he even used the last of the wood to start the first in the the woodstove in a couple of weeks. At first this looked like an excellent call, but by noon it was in the 60's outside and we moved onto the porch, where we got sunburned. I was okay with that. Then I drove to Northampton, MA, basically to hang out with the nearly graduated daughter. They even have swelling lilac buds and fully open daffodils. Now it's sunny and clear and Monday again, for heaven's sake.
"They" being the deer. It was the second snowiest winter in something like 175 years of record-keeping; it was like no other year of the 15 my plough guy has been ploughing this driveway, in that he ran entirely our of places to put the snow. The first three years I was here I saw perhaps one deer a year, mostly eating fallen apples. It's been multiple deer daily for a couple of months, eating atoms and brambles.
I think many of the chomped shrubs will live, though their actually recovering enough to flower may not happen for a few years. I am taking it remarkably calmly, perhaps because not attracting deer has been such a good excuse for not doing more to terraform the garden area.
The recession of the glaciers here (don't mistake these things -- they may not be a mile thick yet but they are Just Waiting, the great icy baftards) has also revealed a touching sprinkle of failed presidential candidate spoor, Romney and Richardson signs coming up like rather bent snowdrops.
One of the weirdest things has been the persistence of light after dinner, usually a sign that it is time to put off raking and weeding, concurrently with huge piles of dirty ice. Land Comets. They are diminishing gradually.
It was supposed to rain all day Saturday, and Doug had scheduled a fiber day in a warm living room -- he even used the last of the wood to start the first in the the woodstove in a couple of weeks. At first this looked like an excellent call, but by noon it was in the 60's outside and we moved onto the porch, where we got sunburned. I was okay with that. Then I drove to Northampton, MA, basically to hang out with the nearly graduated daughter. They even have swelling lilac buds and fully open daffodils. Now it's sunny and clear and Monday again, for heaven's sake.
Saturday, April 05, 2008
Still not spring
As Aragorn might have said in these circumstances.
I had a very pleasant time last weekend. It stopped snowing around noon and I reached Northampton without incident. The ground cover of snow stopped a few miles north of the town. There were still a few piles hidden in the shrubbery but you had to look. Saturday was brilliantly sunny and colder than the whole previous winter, though the thermometer said it was above freezing. We were not.
And yet not one person in the spinning class tried to hurt me and they all learned to spin. One of them, the Dread Pirate Roberts, had learned to spin in junior high, so she remembered very fast and took off.
(Flickr set of needlefelting pics) She also came to the needlefelting the next day, except then she was Ms. Frizell. I find it very relaxing to be among science fiction fans(although figuring out who people are dressed as can be confusing since I haven't watched TV in a while). Several old graduates whom I liked had come back to campus for the convention and it was a delightful time.
After the spinning, we had impromptu needlefelting in the hall for people who needed to leave early the next day. After a while, I went downtown, _freezing_ in the wind, and got a haircut. A bunch of us met for dinner and then we went and sat in Ellie's room with all the lights turned off (it being the hour people were supposed to show their support for the earth).
Sunday I finished my socks, by refusing to put on any socks until I had cast off the ones I was working on. It only took about ten minutes.
Needlefelting the next day went well too, and it was warmer. I stayed around until dinner time and went home just before dark.
This past week my boss was away. He is taking a sabbatical this May - September and I will have an interesting balance of going mad from loneliness and boredom with the desire to pay my oil bill. Friday it snowed again. The deer are still everywhere, hungry.
Saturday we had enough sun to melt the snow back and reveal snowdrops and crocus
. Sarah came over. Doug went to visit his GF in COncord and Sarah NEEDED to go get 17 more swatches of blue fabric, since she had only come up with a pathetic 35 blues from her personal stash. She has fallen into the teeth of the Quilting Beast (so far I have escaped), so we went shopping. Then
although my house is hideous and guests were coming for dinner, we sat in the sun on the front porch and made like turtles (who knitted and embroidered, but very much into the basking). Afterward Sarah did the Best Friend EVAR thing and tidied the living room while I made food. Food-processor enhanced borscht. Saute onions, potatoes, cabbage, carrots; add shredded beets and water, simmer and then puree it. Serve with yogurt, lemon juice, salt and pepper. Amazingly easy and good. We also constructed pizza.
Doug reappeared for dinner, sadly minus the GF, and Cindy and Susan showed up pictures of their horse. It was a good evening. Then veryone but Sarah left and we put out the blues (Sarah had washed, dried, ironed, and cut them in what seemed like no time) and arranged them.
She brought a lovely book to look at, Last-Minute Patchwork and Quilted Gifts. The owner of Purl in New York wrote it, which goes to explain the affinity between the shop's logo and the clean light design of the book. Too Much Wool took me there a couple years ago (the entry is January 25, 2006). I had warm feelings for Purl and Too Much Wool and admired the Color Wheel Quilt that has bitten Sarah so badly that she put down all her projects and began a blue and brown version. Turned out to have been made for the book by Too Much Wool's secret identity. I went on turning pages to what turned out to be my favorite project picture in the book, a big multi-yellow randomized strip-pieced warm quilt. There was a closeup. "Holy cow," I said. "Some insane person hand-quilted the whole thing. And did a really lovely job." I read the copy. It was Too Much Wool. Way to go. Where does she get the time?
This morning dawned cloudy and bleak again.No sun-bathing. Sarah and I went in search of the perfect dark brown for her blue color-wheel quilt.
It will be a beautiful quilt, particularly if you like blue and brown together, but in some ways it looked too much like the snow/soaked, dormant vegetation/overcast sky we were driving through. Though we went even unto Keepsake (about an hour's drive from here), we have been forced to retire and work on other projects.
Willow is sitting on my feet and it is a good thing; we are both warmed.
I had a very pleasant time last weekend. It stopped snowing around noon and I reached Northampton without incident. The ground cover of snow stopped a few miles north of the town. There were still a few piles hidden in the shrubbery but you had to look. Saturday was brilliantly sunny and colder than the whole previous winter, though the thermometer said it was above freezing. We were not.
And yet not one person in the spinning class tried to hurt me and they all learned to spin. One of them, the Dread Pirate Roberts, had learned to spin in junior high, so she remembered very fast and took off.
(Flickr set of needlefelting pics) She also came to the needlefelting the next day, except then she was Ms. Frizell. I find it very relaxing to be among science fiction fans(although figuring out who people are dressed as can be confusing since I haven't watched TV in a while). Several old graduates whom I liked had come back to campus for the convention and it was a delightful time.
After the spinning, we had impromptu needlefelting in the hall for people who needed to leave early the next day. After a while, I went downtown, _freezing_ in the wind, and got a haircut. A bunch of us met for dinner and then we went and sat in Ellie's room with all the lights turned off (it being the hour people were supposed to show their support for the earth).
Sunday I finished my socks, by refusing to put on any socks until I had cast off the ones I was working on. It only took about ten minutes.
Needlefelting the next day went well too, and it was warmer. I stayed around until dinner time and went home just before dark.
This past week my boss was away. He is taking a sabbatical this May - September and I will have an interesting balance of going mad from loneliness and boredom with the desire to pay my oil bill. Friday it snowed again. The deer are still everywhere, hungry.
Saturday we had enough sun to melt the snow back and reveal snowdrops and crocus
. Sarah came over. Doug went to visit his GF in COncord and Sarah NEEDED to go get 17 more swatches of blue fabric, since she had only come up with a pathetic 35 blues from her personal stash. She has fallen into the teeth of the Quilting Beast (so far I have escaped), so we went shopping. Then although my house is hideous and guests were coming for dinner, we sat in the sun on the front porch and made like turtles (who knitted and embroidered, but very much into the basking). Afterward Sarah did the Best Friend EVAR thing and tidied the living room while I made food. Food-processor enhanced borscht. Saute onions, potatoes, cabbage, carrots; add shredded beets and water, simmer and then puree it. Serve with yogurt, lemon juice, salt and pepper. Amazingly easy and good. We also constructed pizza.
Doug reappeared for dinner, sadly minus the GF, and Cindy and Susan showed up pictures of their horse. It was a good evening. Then veryone but Sarah left and we put out the blues (Sarah had washed, dried, ironed, and cut them in what seemed like no time) and arranged them.
She brought a lovely book to look at, Last-Minute Patchwork and Quilted Gifts. The owner of Purl in New York wrote it, which goes to explain the affinity between the shop's logo and the clean light design of the book. Too Much Wool took me there a couple years ago (the entry is January 25, 2006). I had warm feelings for Purl and Too Much Wool and admired the Color Wheel Quilt that has bitten Sarah so badly that she put down all her projects and began a blue and brown version. Turned out to have been made for the book by Too Much Wool's secret identity. I went on turning pages to what turned out to be my favorite project picture in the book, a big multi-yellow randomized strip-pieced warm quilt. There was a closeup. "Holy cow," I said. "Some insane person hand-quilted the whole thing. And did a really lovely job." I read the copy. It was Too Much Wool. Way to go. Where does she get the time?
This morning dawned cloudy and bleak again.No sun-bathing. Sarah and I went in search of the perfect dark brown for her blue color-wheel quilt.
It will be a beautiful quilt, particularly if you like blue and brown together, but in some ways it looked too much like the snow/soaked, dormant vegetation/overcast sky we were driving through. Though we went even unto Keepsake (about an hour's drive from here), we have been forced to retire and work on other projects.
Willow is sitting on my feet and it is a good thing; we are both warmed.
Friday, March 28, 2008
modest proposal
So yesterday, I got up (sort of) and there out the window was a doe eating a)molecules, because that's what seemed to be on offer on the muddy, newly-deprived-of-glacier soil at the edge of the woods. There is still PLENTY of glacier. In town, the glaciers are quite dirty and will probably melt faster as a result of losing their natural coloration. Not here in the thinterlands.
The doe, who was not one of your small deer, appearing to be the size of a small SUV like a RAV or that one two of my friends have (but I am apparently not having a good morning for brain cells) or a post-modern refrigerator, did not greatly care that I was looking at her, even though she or her ilk (or elk?) were likely responsible for making my poor little pitchpine into a troffula tree.
I feel sorry for the deer, they are hungry. I do not feed them because they need to eat twigs and bark this time of year, not hay or chicken food, and because they should not associate this place with food in case I ever terraform it and garden.
They don't look starving (assuming I would recognize it), they look truculent.
She left and the tom turkey came and did the whole 'gobblegobblegobble' fluff display, which is pretty cool.[By the way, the soundtrack here is stupid. The sounds on this one are much more like it. The thing to notice, by the way, is that generally, the hens could care less only with great difficulty.] I am not a turkey hen nor that way inclined, but the American peacock thing is simply fine.
And it was sunny and you would have thought it might, possibly, be spring.
This weekend is the Smith science fiction convention and I am teaching spinning and needlefelting, traditional science fiction and fantasy crafts. So I worked an extra 3 hours and got the thing for Friday done yesterday afternoon, I could pack today and leave perhaps around noon. Leisurely travel, little streams, melting glaciers. WEBS. You know.
Only it's snowing really a lot and will get worse until tapering off about 4pm. When I will leave.
I think perhaps the Jews were right this year and we might have just put in an extra February and lowered our expectations.
The Spellman Files is really funny.
Monday, March 24, 2008
It was Easter.
And it didn't actually snow, so just because it's still going to be in the 30's most days this week.... ahhhggg. I know, Easter is early this year.
I spend Good Friday, a day off, reading supernatural urban fantasy, of which there is an awful lot available these days.
Saturday morning was the first day Doug was home later than 10 am at the same times as I was in a what seems like a long time. Supported by the presence of a fellow-human I actually tidied house until about 1 pm. The house is now only very messy instead of alarming. Then I did bills. Then I went to the bank, and eventually Bruce and Sue's, where Drew and Mary Ann and Donna were as well. I had not been to see Bruce and Sue in about three years, because their house is 91 miles away and I am basically no good. But I had such a good time (including beef not-unlike Bourguignon and newly legal absinthe -- this was Lucid, it tasted MUCH better diluted and louche, and it is very strong) and friendly people I hope I will do that again. There were three reflective non-practicing Catholics and a secular Jew, whom I persuaded to tell the story of Esther (it was Purim on Friday. We think they stuck another month in the Hebrew calendar this year. I always think of Purim as part of February). Everyone learned to make noise when Haman's name was mentioned, which Drew pronounced "Cheney" more than once.
Then I went to my parents'. They had been at the Easter Vigil. I had to beg them to let me go to sleep, because they are made of sterner stuff than I am. We had an informal Easter morning and went to Legal Seafood for Easter dinner (no garlic shrimp. I was sad. The mini-quiche was good, though), and then we went to Logan to pick up the Daughter and the Ex, who had spent the Daughter's spring break touring obscure Roman sites and their relatives in Southern England.
Daughter in Bath.
They had a good time. I am wistful. Boy, were they tired. Daughter had considered drivbing herself back to college and then to New Jersey for grad school interview on Wednesday, but fortunately the car in her father's driveway had a flat tire, forcing her to rethink and possibly saving several lives. After some discussion I drove her to Northampton, and then drove home. My accelerator foot wants to learn to use the cruise control.
And the archaeological unit I and the ex met working for in 1978has found a real goodie. More power to them.
I spend Good Friday, a day off, reading supernatural urban fantasy, of which there is an awful lot available these days.
Saturday morning was the first day Doug was home later than 10 am at the same times as I was in a what seems like a long time. Supported by the presence of a fellow-human I actually tidied house until about 1 pm. The house is now only very messy instead of alarming. Then I did bills. Then I went to the bank, and eventually Bruce and Sue's, where Drew and Mary Ann and Donna were as well. I had not been to see Bruce and Sue in about three years, because their house is 91 miles away and I am basically no good. But I had such a good time (including beef not-unlike Bourguignon and newly legal absinthe -- this was Lucid, it tasted MUCH better diluted and louche, and it is very strong) and friendly people I hope I will do that again. There were three reflective non-practicing Catholics and a secular Jew, whom I persuaded to tell the story of Esther (it was Purim on Friday. We think they stuck another month in the Hebrew calendar this year. I always think of Purim as part of February). Everyone learned to make noise when Haman's name was mentioned, which Drew pronounced "Cheney" more than once.
Then I went to my parents'. They had been at the Easter Vigil. I had to beg them to let me go to sleep, because they are made of sterner stuff than I am. We had an informal Easter morning and went to Legal Seafood for Easter dinner (no garlic shrimp. I was sad. The mini-quiche was good, though), and then we went to Logan to pick up the Daughter and the Ex, who had spent the Daughter's spring break touring obscure Roman sites and their relatives in Southern England.
Daughter in Bath.
They had a good time. I am wistful. Boy, were they tired. Daughter had considered drivbing herself back to college and then to New Jersey for grad school interview on Wednesday, but fortunately the car in her father's driveway had a flat tire, forcing her to rethink and possibly saving several lives. After some discussion I drove her to Northampton, and then drove home. My accelerator foot wants to learn to use the cruise control.
And the archaeological unit I and the ex met working for in 1978has found a real goodie. More power to them.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Warm idea
http://www.craftster.org/forum/index.php?topic=233971.0
Meanwhile, in the land of Beer Labels, on the back of my shirt I started building a house. I am making a Good Times at Gault shirt. I am not looking forward to the Clovis points, many many curves. Stem stitch, I guess (stemmed point stitch? would never do for fluted!).
The beer label, by the way, started off canted like the original, but the tracing paper warped and shifted as I sewed through it. I was glad to have it at the end of the bed, wrapped around a pair of new trousers, when I realized I could not freehand the alleged goat (You think that's a goat? ('bock' beer is named after goats)(perhaps the capering that ensues) Sarah and I think it's a perfectly nice Dall sheep), but after this experience, next time I will stagger downstairs and try the Sulky stabilizer.
Meanwhile, in the land of Beer Labels, on the back of my shirt I started building a house. I am making a Good Times at Gault shirt. I am not looking forward to the Clovis points, many many curves. Stem stitch, I guess (stemmed point stitch? would never do for fluted!).
The beer label, by the way, started off canted like the original, but the tracing paper warped and shifted as I sewed through it. I was glad to have it at the end of the bed, wrapped around a pair of new trousers, when I realized I could not freehand the alleged goat (You think that's a goat? ('bock' beer is named after goats)(perhaps the capering that ensues) Sarah and I think it's a perfectly nice Dall sheep), but after this experience, next time I will stagger downstairs and try the Sulky stabilizer.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Could have been a tattoo
Comes a time in one's life when one, or you, or I realize I may have become what my grandmothers most feared: Trashy. My mom is not keen on Trashy, either, but she has rather different ideas what constitutes it and also a sense of humor that my grandmothers perhaps never had the comforting feeling of distance from Trashiness to acquire. They would have been more comfortable with something like this.
I realized I had sunk into the gutter when I looked at the deathless piece of fiberart I was concocting and realized that I was indeed embroidering a beer label.
Shiner, if you have read the blog over at NH Underground is a nectar, a proof that God wants us to be happy, an anodyne for the pain of the world (and knees). It's also not available north of Virginia, so we don't get it often, like only on archaeology gigs in Texas, and it is possible that I am affected by the context I find it in. A Shiner Bock and Salt Lick barbecue constitute a SERIOUS candidate for the Best Meal in the World, particularly when you have a hangover.
The lady at the quilt store said "I hope it's not Bud Lite." At least, by local standards, I am yuppie Trash.
Meanwhile, it's sneeting outside. We see deer daily, eating wild rosebushes and my pussywillow, poor things, and the squirrels I usually don't see that often, who don't wreck my birdfeeders, are frequent visitors. Some people talk about daffodil sprouts; here, you'd need an auger and a laparoscope to see them through the snow.
I realized I had sunk into the gutter when I looked at the deathless piece of fiberart I was concocting and realized that I was indeed embroidering a beer label.
Shiner, if you have read the blog over at NH Underground is a nectar, a proof that God wants us to be happy, an anodyne for the pain of the world (and knees). It's also not available north of Virginia, so we don't get it often, like only on archaeology gigs in Texas, and it is possible that I am affected by the context I find it in. A Shiner Bock and Salt Lick barbecue constitute a SERIOUS candidate for the Best Meal in the World, particularly when you have a hangover.
The lady at the quilt store said "I hope it's not Bud Lite." At least, by local standards, I am yuppie Trash.
Meanwhile, it's sneeting outside. We see deer daily, eating wild rosebushes and my pussywillow, poor things, and the squirrels I usually don't see that often, who don't wreck my birdfeeders, are frequent visitors. Some people talk about daffodil sprouts; here, you'd need an auger and a laparoscope to see them through the snow.
Friday, March 14, 2008
At last
I have finally got my Week in Texas Supposedly Getting Warm blog up, with pictures (rather smaller than I had in mind, but I am tired of feeling the weight of getting the thing done). You can find it here. If you look hard, there will be cows.
Now I can go back to feeling guilty about not knit-blogging. I have been reading C.E. Murphy the last few days and she is pretty rivetting, so that's my excuse.
Now I can go back to feeling guilty about not knit-blogging. I have been reading C.E. Murphy the last few days and she is pretty rivetting, so that's my excuse.
Monday, March 10, 2008
I am back
I like it here. I liked it there. My feet are not so good, as I M@US@T get Wellington boots with no heel and some arch support. Let me tell you about water-screening when it's under 40 and windy.
Better yet, wait till I upload some photos and get the text up. I remembered the secret word fine, but tried to send it to 'blogspot' instead of 'blogger' so it didn't post.
I come home and there is potting soil and birdseed in the bath tub and laundry all over the bed. The bathtub is not really much worse than I left it; Doug kept my plants alive when the cats played either Tarzan or "those-Motorcycle-things-that-fly-in -the-woods-in-The Return of the Jedi" with my plants. My amaryllis are in full bloom. The birdseed was from his keeping the birdfeeders going through the wind storms and the raccoon invasions. The laundry on my bed is clean and folded and stacked neatly at the end, lot of room to sleep.
I have the Best HouseMate EvAr.
I still like archaeology and may have learned some stuff about lithics. Unfortunately, this is really neat and exciting.
I almost finished a pair of socks in Lorna's Laces Tuscany.
more soon, I hope.
Better yet, wait till I upload some photos and get the text up. I remembered the secret word fine, but tried to send it to 'blogspot' instead of 'blogger' so it didn't post.
I come home and there is potting soil and birdseed in the bath tub and laundry all over the bed. The bathtub is not really much worse than I left it; Doug kept my plants alive when the cats played either Tarzan or "those-Motorcycle-things-that-fly-in -the-woods-in-The Return of the Jedi" with my plants. My amaryllis are in full bloom. The birdseed was from his keeping the birdfeeders going through the wind storms and the raccoon invasions. The laundry on my bed is clean and folded and stacked neatly at the end, lot of room to sleep.
I have the Best HouseMate EvAr.
I still like archaeology and may have learned some stuff about lithics. Unfortunately, this is really neat and exciting.
I almost finished a pair of socks in Lorna's Laces Tuscany.
more soon, I hope.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
This is a test.
I am testing the blog-by-email feature of Blogspot. Today they had
school in all the relevant districts, but I got lucky -- about 10" of
white and fluffy. Given that yesterday I spent most of my time not
having anything urgent enough to cut through my miasma of self-pity, I
am taking today as a sick day. And I plan to pack.
school in all the relevant districts, but I got lucky -- about 10" of
white and fluffy. Given that yesterday I spent most of my time not
having anything urgent enough to cut through my miasma of self-pity, I
am taking today as a sick day. And I plan to pack.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Update in haste
It should be haste, I need to get dressed, etc. Second night on Benedryl (diphenhydramine, an antihistamine and off-label soporific): _excellent_ slumber, drugged as hell and dizzy in the morning. I haven't coughed yet, which is good, because my back and rib muscles are not happy (and my head may yet explode. Would you want to risk it?). Dizziness may be the glop in the sinus, or the aftereffects of doping.
BUT! I need to say that my knee has gone back to its Clark Kent identity of mild-mannered and not all that wimpy (not that I am pushing off on it or anything silly).
I also heard chickadees yesterday seriously making 'personal column' calls. Northampton, that well-known den of free love and free thinking, had cardinals and woodpeckers advertising, as well as swelling lilac buds; it's a good sign that Bird Romance is in the air here, along with the threat of little white flakes.
BUT! I need to say that my knee has gone back to its Clark Kent identity of mild-mannered and not all that wimpy (not that I am pushing off on it or anything silly).
I also heard chickadees yesterday seriously making 'personal column' calls. Northampton, that well-known den of free love and free thinking, had cardinals and woodpeckers advertising, as well as swelling lilac buds; it's a good sign that Bird Romance is in the air here, along with the threat of little white flakes.
Monday, February 25, 2008
So on Saturday
ON Saturday I woke up and the end of the world was not all over my driveway. I had just decided to call my daughter and warn her I was coming after all, when my daughter called and hoped, very politely, that I might reconsider and come, bring the suitcase with which she hopes to accompany her father to England over spring break. So I put my luggage back into the car, and it was a very pretty drive with sunlight and snow caught in the trees, and they only had maybe 8" in Northampton. I made a small pilgrimage to WEBS and bought yarn... well, it was murky green, and beautiful, and who can say, if I don't do seed stitch I might make a sweater. And some sock yarn. Two skeins, one of which I will offer Sarah, since yarn you give away has negative calories, it's like not having bought any. (She took the brighter one, which is fine; I have a murkygreen and red Trekking now)
We went to the paint-your-own pottery and I think my Minoan octopus will be a worthy tribute. I won't get to see it fired until April (Conbust). Then we had Tea in her room until dinner time, which was quiet but fine. I think maybe my lack of ambition to Shop Northampton should have tipped me off that the scratchy throat I woke up with was not a good sign. We had tasty Indian, and then we walked back to her dorm. This made two trips to and from her dorm to downtown. To prove that no good deed goes unpunished, the knee I sprained two years ago-- the one that has been sulking and softly swelling once I started going on the elliptical thing again, once I could breathe after the horrible cold in January-- that knee? began to have big time temper fits. Back in her room, I translated French summaries of articles on Roman North African villas (Ellie took German, because that is what classics majors are supposed to take, so now she's stuck in a francophone research paper). Although this was fun, I don't think any of the articles she had found were useful to her, and I was tired and my throat hurt.
By the time I crawled into Grace and Debbie's apartment I could barely walk and I developed this great little dry cough (amazingly similar to the one I had in January). Grace made me healthful lemon and honey drinks and at least after two of those I had a reason to need to crawl in to bed.
It would be good to be lively sometime when I visit them. They keep getting a guest with the muscle one of a dead possum.
I drove home the next day wondering if my clutch leg were going to fall off (can you get surgical reattachment at a service station?), in time to find Sarah at the bottom of the driveway. She could drive most of the way up. My Subaru said, "Snow? what snow?@@" and we pacified the cats and had tea until the quilt shop opened. I only wanted to take her to see it. Entirely Sarah's own problem that she bought four yards of discreetly 19th century prints. Which she washed, dried, and cut into strips before she left (and says she hopes to sew all the strips together tonight, except she was cutting them up and Rail-Fencing them together, which slows you down).
I made dinner and continued to needle-punch my sheep. Very calming, and I am stabbing myself less.
I spent last night having the kind of punctuated sleep where you are sure you haven't been asleep, and maybe I wasn't. Today at work I had only light alphabetical lifting, which was good because when I coughed my head threatened to explode. Olivia who sometimes works in my office was also coughing and my boss came out and told us to please get well. I came home and took a two-hour nap and will be returning for, I hope, another 8 soon.
Guess what it's doing tomorrow? AND the next day?
We went to the paint-your-own pottery and I think my Minoan octopus will be a worthy tribute. I won't get to see it fired until April (Conbust). Then we had Tea in her room until dinner time, which was quiet but fine. I think maybe my lack of ambition to Shop Northampton should have tipped me off that the scratchy throat I woke up with was not a good sign. We had tasty Indian, and then we walked back to her dorm. This made two trips to and from her dorm to downtown. To prove that no good deed goes unpunished, the knee I sprained two years ago-- the one that has been sulking and softly swelling once I started going on the elliptical thing again, once I could breathe after the horrible cold in January-- that knee? began to have big time temper fits. Back in her room, I translated French summaries of articles on Roman North African villas (Ellie took German, because that is what classics majors are supposed to take, so now she's stuck in a francophone research paper). Although this was fun, I don't think any of the articles she had found were useful to her, and I was tired and my throat hurt.
By the time I crawled into Grace and Debbie's apartment I could barely walk and I developed this great little dry cough (amazingly similar to the one I had in January). Grace made me healthful lemon and honey drinks and at least after two of those I had a reason to need to crawl in to bed.
It would be good to be lively sometime when I visit them. They keep getting a guest with the muscle one of a dead possum.
I drove home the next day wondering if my clutch leg were going to fall off (can you get surgical reattachment at a service station?), in time to find Sarah at the bottom of the driveway. She could drive most of the way up. My Subaru said, "Snow? what snow?@@" and we pacified the cats and had tea until the quilt shop opened. I only wanted to take her to see it. Entirely Sarah's own problem that she bought four yards of discreetly 19th century prints. Which she washed, dried, and cut into strips before she left (and says she hopes to sew all the strips together tonight, except she was cutting them up and Rail-Fencing them together, which slows you down).
I made dinner and continued to needle-punch my sheep. Very calming, and I am stabbing myself less.
I spent last night having the kind of punctuated sleep where you are sure you haven't been asleep, and maybe I wasn't. Today at work I had only light alphabetical lifting, which was good because when I coughed my head threatened to explode. Olivia who sometimes works in my office was also coughing and my boss came out and told us to please get well. I came home and took a two-hour nap and will be returning for, I hope, another 8 soon.
Guess what it's doing tomorrow? AND the next day?
Friday, February 22, 2008
Winter Wonderland. I cannot take much more of it.
It's snowing again. We had enough melting that the immediate danger of not being able to plow the driveway seems to have passed. It has (somewhat lower, now) frozen mini-Alps on either side, extending a yard or so out from each side of the roadway. The tractor can only lift and dump so far. The Alpinini are frozen solid; I have suggested dynamite.
Doug and Sarah C (not the former housemate Sarah D),perhaps GFSarah (for girlfriend, not gluten free; and she's a real, interesting, lively person, so you should understand that GF is a very minimal description) are on their to Spa, or perhaps not. I was supposed to be in Northampton, MA, but discretion overcame valor as the path from here to there is apparently exactly the path of the heaviest snow this evening. I wanted to go. I wanted to have wild creative time with my daughter (the last hurrah of a china-painting shop), and see Grace and Dahlia, and also get a haircut, but it is not to be.
So I am having wild creative time with the cats. It is strongly to be hoped I will pack for the trip to Texas in the next couple days, as I am leaving here Friday ( a week from tonight)(not that I am counting. My mother is even counting, vicarious trips to warmer climes being better than none. And she's sending me camping equipment. Very kind). If it doesn't snow obscenely. It's not that it isn't beautiful, it's that you get kind of ENOUGH ALREADY and start remembering that once you could wear short-sleeved shirts.
The thermostat where I work always says 70 F. The more-dedicated-than-I- ever-will-be, environmentally aware person who is working for all too short a time for another non-profit in my office, Olivia, says she thinks it's maybe 65F. The floor is carpet over a concrete slab and one's feet are cold unless one wears TWO pairs of handmade socks and the furry-inside Merrells. At home, I can wrap Polarfleece around myself and drink tea, or more to the point, go to bed. I do wish we had a tradition of hibernating, or at least officially sanctioned torpor (as opposed to the slackjawed drooling torpor I try to fend off at work).
My mother's hat is nearly nearly done; I need to make the other braid. It is curiously shaped; if I had made it as deep in the crown as the pattern suggested, my mother could have worn it quite comfortably like a turquoise paper bag over her head; it's kind of wide. If, however, you pull the earflaps down it feels very snuggly, and she says she doesn't mind looking funny. Perhaps a picture tomorrow. Willow, who is now capable of being within a few feet of Marten without turning into an insensate spitting fury (Toby is just never in the same room, and I wish he would get over his fearfulness), is sitting on my feet. This is a warm thing for both of us and makes me unwilling to move her off.
Doug and Sarah C (not the former housemate Sarah D),perhaps GFSarah (for girlfriend, not gluten free; and she's a real, interesting, lively person, so you should understand that GF is a very minimal description) are on their to Spa, or perhaps not. I was supposed to be in Northampton, MA, but discretion overcame valor as the path from here to there is apparently exactly the path of the heaviest snow this evening. I wanted to go. I wanted to have wild creative time with my daughter (the last hurrah of a china-painting shop), and see Grace and Dahlia, and also get a haircut, but it is not to be.
So I am having wild creative time with the cats. It is strongly to be hoped I will pack for the trip to Texas in the next couple days, as I am leaving here Friday ( a week from tonight)(not that I am counting. My mother is even counting, vicarious trips to warmer climes being better than none. And she's sending me camping equipment. Very kind). If it doesn't snow obscenely. It's not that it isn't beautiful, it's that you get kind of ENOUGH ALREADY and start remembering that once you could wear short-sleeved shirts.
The thermostat where I work always says 70 F. The more-dedicated-than-I- ever-will-be, environmentally aware person who is working for all too short a time for another non-profit in my office, Olivia, says she thinks it's maybe 65F. The floor is carpet over a concrete slab and one's feet are cold unless one wears TWO pairs of handmade socks and the furry-inside Merrells. At home, I can wrap Polarfleece around myself and drink tea, or more to the point, go to bed. I do wish we had a tradition of hibernating, or at least officially sanctioned torpor (as opposed to the slackjawed drooling torpor I try to fend off at work).
My mother's hat is nearly nearly done; I need to make the other braid. It is curiously shaped; if I had made it as deep in the crown as the pattern suggested, my mother could have worn it quite comfortably like a turquoise paper bag over her head; it's kind of wide. If, however, you pull the earflaps down it feels very snuggly, and she says she doesn't mind looking funny. Perhaps a picture tomorrow. Willow, who is now capable of being within a few feet of Marten without turning into an insensate spitting fury (Toby is just never in the same room, and I wish he would get over his fearfulness), is sitting on my feet. This is a warm thing for both of us and makes me unwilling to move her off.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Not pretty at all.
Unlike these sheep (enjoy caption).
Do I mean the really, I think TEN inches on top of the four-6 of crunchy, unyielding older snow, the ten inches (of which we got about six or seven got between about 1:30 and 6:30 this morning -- it must have been something) now being tucked in with a steady supply of freezing rain? It's 32.5 F (say 0.25 of a degree C) outside. It will be interesting.
I could mean the kitchen floor, with tastefully distributed groceries, or the bedroom floor (laundry, much in baskets, clean), or the living room where I cocoon, covered in a nasty combination of beads, embroidery floss, a few fat quarters (I have been frequenting the quilting store in the village, which is not Keepsake quite but is really pretty darned (buttonhole stitched, punchneedled) good.
I have been downstairs several times, trying to get the woodstove to start and feeding the cats and looking for a camera cable so I can download the beaded Valentines I made my daughter and our friend also named Eleanor. I am afraid the cable is in the car, which is entirely surrounded by water in its more solid, less gaseous phases.
I found a cable in my room, with real cobwebs.
I did want a snow day. This may be excessive.
This is the deck outside my bedroom, with redpolls. Note that the feeder-tree is set in a joint-compound bucket. Which you can't see.
By the way, check out these chocolates. Read the interesting thing in the NYT about milk chocolate.
The weather in happier times, about two weeks ago.
I finally realized I should make my Photobucket album public. You might be able to click for bigger. We'll see.
Do I mean the really, I think TEN inches on top of the four-6 of crunchy, unyielding older snow, the ten inches (of which we got about six or seven got between about 1:30 and 6:30 this morning -- it must have been something) now being tucked in with a steady supply of freezing rain? It's 32.5 F (say 0.25 of a degree C) outside. It will be interesting.
I could mean the kitchen floor, with tastefully distributed groceries, or the bedroom floor (laundry, much in baskets, clean), or the living room where I cocoon, covered in a nasty combination of beads, embroidery floss, a few fat quarters (I have been frequenting the quilting store in the village, which is not Keepsake quite but is really pretty darned (buttonhole stitched, punchneedled) good.
I have been downstairs several times, trying to get the woodstove to start and feeding the cats and looking for a camera cable so I can download the beaded Valentines I made my daughter and our friend also named Eleanor. I am afraid the cable is in the car, which is entirely surrounded by water in its more solid, less gaseous phases.
I found a cable in my room, with real cobwebs.
I did want a snow day. This may be excessive.
This is the deck outside my bedroom, with redpolls. Note that the feeder-tree is set in a joint-compound bucket. Which you can't see.By the way, check out these chocolates. Read the interesting thing in the NYT about milk chocolate.
The weather in happier times, about two weeks ago.
I finally realized I should make my Photobucket album public. You might be able to click for bigger. We'll see.
Saturday, February 09, 2008
Something else to do with your knitting machine
http://geckogrrl.wordpress.com/2008/02/06/cool-all-knitted-video/
Sunday, February 03, 2008
A poem for the Poetry in Cyberspace project (only it was yesterday...)
A Bat Is Born by Randall Jarrell
A bat is born
Naked and blind and pale
His mother makes a pocket of her tail
And catches him. He clings
to her long fur
By his thumbs and toes and teeth.
And then the mother dances through the night
Doubling and looping,
Soaring, somersaulting-
Her baby hangs on
underneath.
All night, in happiness,
She hunts and flies.
Her high sharp cries
Like shining needlepoints of sound
Go out into the night and
echoing back,
Tell her what they have touched.
She hears how far it is,
how big it is,
which way it's going:
She lives by hearing.
The mother eats the moths and gnats
she catches
In full flight. In full flight
The mother drinks the water of the pond
She skims across.
Her baby hangs on tight.
Her baby drinks the milk she makes him.
In moonlight or starlight,
In midair
Their single shadow,
printed on the moon
Or fluttering across the stars,
Whirls on all night.
At daybreak,
the tired mother flys home to her rafter
The others are all there.
They hang themselves up by their toes,
They wrap themselves in their brown wings.
Bunched upside down, they sleep in air.
Their sharp ears,
Their sharp teeth
Their quick sharp faces
Are dull and slow and mild.
All the bright day, as the mother sleeps,
She folds her wings about her sleeping child.
A bat is born
Naked and blind and pale
His mother makes a pocket of her tail
And catches him. He clings
to her long fur
By his thumbs and toes and teeth.
And then the mother dances through the night
Doubling and looping,
Soaring, somersaulting-
Her baby hangs on
underneath.
All night, in happiness,
She hunts and flies.
Her high sharp cries
Like shining needlepoints of sound
Go out into the night and
echoing back,
Tell her what they have touched.
She hears how far it is,
how big it is,
which way it's going:
She lives by hearing.
The mother eats the moths and gnats
she catches
In full flight. In full flight
The mother drinks the water of the pond
She skims across.
Her baby hangs on tight.
Her baby drinks the milk she makes him.
In moonlight or starlight,
In midair
Their single shadow,
printed on the moon
Or fluttering across the stars,
Whirls on all night.
At daybreak,
the tired mother flys home to her rafter
The others are all there.
They hang themselves up by their toes,
They wrap themselves in their brown wings.
Bunched upside down, they sleep in air.
Their sharp ears,
Their sharp teeth
Their quick sharp faces
Are dull and slow and mild.
All the bright day, as the mother sleeps,
She folds her wings about her sleeping child.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
How long?
Dear Internet,
So I leaned over my laptop keyboard this morning, somewhat squashing it with my umm, tracts of land (GREAT tracts of land, thank you), and when I sat up again the display was 90 degrees counterclockwise. So instead of typing into a candy or cigar box, I now have a keyboard awkwardly mounted on one leaf of book. It is going to do interesting things to my neck. The touchpad was a whole vertigo-inducing experience, and ly Solitaire and not looking at it has lent me any facility at all. Have you any suggestions?
HA! HA! Deep within the other click on the background of the desktop
there are Display options, control-alt(arrow in direction you want it to go)
So I heard my parents' TV remote refused to work (my father got the cable people to reprogram it) at the same time as their printer went odd (my father called a helpful HP rep), and when I got to work the desk printer had swallowed a file it could neither print nor disgorge until much rebooting and redoubled deleting of files took place, and then I found out Mercury was indeed in retrograde and there is weird computer stuff going on all over nonprofit New Hampshire.
I may not buy any more books on beaded or embroidered embellishment until I have used the ones I have for at least an hour. But isn't reading about something and looking at the pictures the same as doing it?
So I leaned over my laptop keyboard this morning, somewhat squashing it with my umm, tracts of land (GREAT tracts of land, thank you), and when I sat up again the display was 90 degrees counterclockwise. So instead of typing into a candy or cigar box, I now have a keyboard awkwardly mounted on one leaf of book. It is going to do interesting things to my neck. The touchpad was a whole vertigo-inducing experience, and ly Solitaire and not looking at it has lent me any facility at all. Have you any suggestions?
HA! HA! Deep within the other click on the background of the desktop
there are Display options, control-alt(arrow in direction you want it to go)
So I heard my parents' TV remote refused to work (my father got the cable people to reprogram it) at the same time as their printer went odd (my father called a helpful HP rep), and when I got to work the desk printer had swallowed a file it could neither print nor disgorge until much rebooting and redoubled deleting of files took place, and then I found out Mercury was indeed in retrograde and there is weird computer stuff going on all over nonprofit New Hampshire.
I may not buy any more books on beaded or embroidered embellishment until I have used the ones I have for at least an hour. But isn't reading about something and looking at the pictures the same as doing it?
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
and it has a low carbon-footprint, this kind of tour
http://litpark.com/2008/01/28/the-liars-diary-blog-day/
Thursday, January 24, 2008
I am supposed to blog more often
And there's now a Facebook group for the Internet Review of Books.
When I am not supposed to be getting awake, exercised (I already nearly lost my temper, does that count?)and clean for the Day Ahead, I will post pictures from this , "Gods in Color: Painted Statuary of Antiquity" and if they have taken down the site ask me and I will send you the PDF. Gaudy takes on a new meaning. Great exhibit. If you missed it in Boston, it will be travelling around the country and it is pretty neat. The sculptors _incised_ the decoration on the clothing. Into marble. I chatted with another Elizabeth Wayland Barber fan.
I have been knitting. I am making my mother a hat. If I ever used patterns from anywhere but the Elegant Ewe I could direct you to them, but it only involves three balls of yarn (not from stash)and I hope to finish it THIS WINTER. My mother's birthday is next week. Anticipation of a gift is a fine thing, I tell her.
My daughter made me clean the kitchen and then I did a minor purge on some bookshelves so I can conceivably put the books on my bedroom floor away. Three boxes for the used bookstore (an interesting mix of spirituality and forgettable science fiction; I kept the memorable stuff) and one for the poor prison chaplain whom I am going to offer some really decent scripture books on the condition she takes the whole box. She can find homes for the rest. Out of my hands.
My next obstacle to walking through that part of the house involves a bunch of boxes of Stuff, moved from elsewhere, compiled randomly, and if it were easy to place I might have done so already. I'd rather knit.
I wonder what I was going to blog when I started this?
I love the redpolls.
When I am not supposed to be getting awake, exercised (I already nearly lost my temper, does that count?)and clean for the Day Ahead, I will post pictures from this , "Gods in Color: Painted Statuary of Antiquity" and if they have taken down the site ask me and I will send you the PDF. Gaudy takes on a new meaning. Great exhibit. If you missed it in Boston, it will be travelling around the country and it is pretty neat. The sculptors _incised_ the decoration on the clothing. Into marble. I chatted with another Elizabeth Wayland Barber fan.
I have been knitting. I am making my mother a hat. If I ever used patterns from anywhere but the Elegant Ewe I could direct you to them, but it only involves three balls of yarn (not from stash)and I hope to finish it THIS WINTER. My mother's birthday is next week. Anticipation of a gift is a fine thing, I tell her.
My daughter made me clean the kitchen and then I did a minor purge on some bookshelves so I can conceivably put the books on my bedroom floor away. Three boxes for the used bookstore (an interesting mix of spirituality and forgettable science fiction; I kept the memorable stuff) and one for the poor prison chaplain whom I am going to offer some really decent scripture books on the condition she takes the whole box. She can find homes for the rest. Out of my hands.
My next obstacle to walking through that part of the house involves a bunch of boxes of Stuff, moved from elsewhere, compiled randomly, and if it were easy to place I might have done so already. I'd rather knit.
I wonder what I was going to blog when I started this?
I love the redpolls.
Monday, January 21, 2008
Getting out of New York, Dec 27 or 28 and 29th.
So New York:
And a Flickr gallery
Well, Ellie and I went to Battery Park, where she said to the unresponding crowd that whatever they were waiting in line for, it COULDN'T be worth it (the ferry). We had done lines the day before.
So we went to the New York branch of the Museum of the American Indian. It is set in the old Customs house, from an architecture of a triumphalist, solid, beautiful bygone day. We visited an exhibit on the Indians of the Northwest Pacific Coast. We enjoyed it (even though it was not Roman and was, I suppose, modern. But not modern rubbish one bit). It displayed beautiful, useful, and interesting objects softly lit, very well labelled, not crowded, and FREE: it was very good. As was the gift shop, where I only bought three books, a t-shirt, and a mola for Doug.
Before we had much trouble with the feet as bleeding stumps, and because I wanted to encourage my polite but not necessarily a wild fan companion to continue being so courteous as to not sulk and to ask interesting, solidly ethnological questions --basically, because she wasn't bored yet and I figure she'll let me come back if we ever do this again-- we left for lunch at the Cozy Burger and Doughnut
, where we had egg salad and chocolate milkshakes (I had mine malted). After that we did not need to eat again the whole day. We went in search of Kate's Paperie, which is near the hotel, apparently, not where it was on our map; of a shop rhapsodized by the NYT, which we did find, and it was okay; of an additional bag, which I did not get the most practical one ever. We had ended up with the Daughter not carrying a purse or backpack, which would have been fine except that I ended up with her wallet and her water-bottle and the guidebook and the subway and bus maps, as well as the camera, my wallet, my knitting, and my water-bottle, some emergency food, the kleenex, the sudafed, the pocketknife, just a few things to make life more civilized... anyway,it was heavy and I wanted to split it up. The bag is a lovely red linen with one pouch (not enough) and no structure and the strap was so long the bag hit Ellie in the back of the knee. It is, however, very beautiful and one can carry a lot in it. We managed a more equal distribution of luggage.
I bought it from a very nice man who spoke perfect English. He was from Tibet but lived in Nepal. Some people have less luck with governments than we do.
While searching fruitlessly for Kate's, largely because we were around there, so we thought, we came across Pearl River, the place where everyone in New York can buy their Chinoiserie (and a certain amount of Japonaiserie). It was huge, two stories with a loft, and full of things in bright colors: clothing, slippers, wall scrolls, Chinese New Year's decorations, and everything you need for a fairly nice Chinese restaurant. It made me happy. I wanted to wander. The daughter followed me silently, keeping me from buying things I didn't need like a visible superego. I had assumed the daughter was being polite, when she announced that she liked this store and the tea sets were remarkably inexpensive... It wouldn't have been the suspicion of anyone I know that it would be she, not I who came out of New York with a teaset, yet there it was. They wrapped it securely in ethnic newspaper and it survived all the way here (and I hope will make it back to Northampton).
We staggered back to the hotel and went to bed.
The next day was our last in New York. So we had to check out by eleven, and I had thought we should leave not before five pm. So we had the damned luggage. So we thought to return to the Met and check it. Wrong. The Met doesn't check suitcases, unlike the Museum of Natural History (where they are used to elephants packing their trunks, perhaps...). It was chilly but a sunny morning. After some discussion I established a secure beachhead with the luggage and my knitting and my Sansa not-an-iPod and NPR, and sent Ellie inside, where she found another whole room of Roman. She came outside to make sure how I was doing and we ate the lunch we had prudently bought at a deli on the way. I pointed out that if I were at home I would very likely have been knitting and listening to NPR, and it was nice there. She want back inside. Those socks got a lot done. Eventually she came out again, and gave me a chance to go look at the line to the bathroom, and also some very nice Egyptian paintings, and we were both happy. We headed to Penn Station, a little late to be as early as Ellie would have liked, but the train was an hour late getting in and by then we had had enough of being there early. It did not hurt, however, as the train was fully booked and we were able to get seats together.
I had a wonderful time. I liked travelling on the bus, where you could see everything, like the Chrysler Building and the New York Times Building and as much as I wanted of Ground Zero, and the names of all the places in songs (Seventh Avenue, Broadway, Herald Square, Uptown (with Billy Joel's Girl), Downtown (with Petula Clark), 42nd Street, and on and on). I liked travelling on the subway, which was fast and mixed modern mosaics with the original station decoration. There is food everywhere.
I would like to go back to everywhere I went. Only in better shoes, and not the week after Christmas. Conspicuous absence of fiber shops on this tour (daughter and I trying successfully not to test one another to destruction). I gather there are several other places I might enjoy going, as well.
And a Flickr galleryWell, Ellie and I went to Battery Park, where she said to the unresponding crowd that whatever they were waiting in line for, it COULDN'T be worth it (the ferry). We had done lines the day before.
So we went to the New York branch of the Museum of the American Indian. It is set in the old Customs house, from an architecture of a triumphalist, solid, beautiful bygone day. We visited an exhibit on the Indians of the Northwest Pacific Coast. We enjoyed it (even though it was not Roman and was, I suppose, modern. But not modern rubbish one bit). It displayed beautiful, useful, and interesting objects softly lit, very well labelled, not crowded, and FREE: it was very good. As was the gift shop, where I only bought three books, a t-shirt, and a mola for Doug.
Before we had much trouble with the feet as bleeding stumps, and because I wanted to encourage my polite but not necessarily a wild fan companion to continue being so courteous as to not sulk and to ask interesting, solidly ethnological questions --basically, because she wasn't bored yet and I figure she'll let me come back if we ever do this again-- we left for lunch at the Cozy Burger and Doughnut
, where we had egg salad and chocolate milkshakes (I had mine malted). After that we did not need to eat again the whole day. We went in search of Kate's Paperie, which is near the hotel, apparently, not where it was on our map; of a shop rhapsodized by the NYT, which we did find, and it was okay; of an additional bag, which I did not get the most practical one ever. We had ended up with the Daughter not carrying a purse or backpack, which would have been fine except that I ended up with her wallet and her water-bottle and the guidebook and the subway and bus maps, as well as the camera, my wallet, my knitting, and my water-bottle, some emergency food, the kleenex, the sudafed, the pocketknife, just a few things to make life more civilized... anyway,it was heavy and I wanted to split it up. The bag is a lovely red linen with one pouch (not enough) and no structure and the strap was so long the bag hit Ellie in the back of the knee. It is, however, very beautiful and one can carry a lot in it. We managed a more equal distribution of luggage.I bought it from a very nice man who spoke perfect English. He was from Tibet but lived in Nepal. Some people have less luck with governments than we do.
While searching fruitlessly for Kate's, largely because we were around there, so we thought, we came across Pearl River, the place where everyone in New York can buy their Chinoiserie (and a certain amount of Japonaiserie). It was huge, two stories with a loft, and full of things in bright colors: clothing, slippers, wall scrolls, Chinese New Year's decorations, and everything you need for a fairly nice Chinese restaurant. It made me happy. I wanted to wander. The daughter followed me silently, keeping me from buying things I didn't need like a visible superego. I had assumed the daughter was being polite, when she announced that she liked this store and the tea sets were remarkably inexpensive... It wouldn't have been the suspicion of anyone I know that it would be she, not I who came out of New York with a teaset, yet there it was. They wrapped it securely in ethnic newspaper and it survived all the way here (and I hope will make it back to Northampton).
We staggered back to the hotel and went to bed.
The next day was our last in New York. So we had to check out by eleven, and I had thought we should leave not before five pm. So we had the damned luggage. So we thought to return to the Met and check it. Wrong. The Met doesn't check suitcases, unlike the Museum of Natural History (where they are used to elephants packing their trunks, perhaps...). It was chilly but a sunny morning. After some discussion I established a secure beachhead with the luggage and my knitting and my Sansa not-an-iPod and NPR, and sent Ellie inside, where she found another whole room of Roman. She came outside to make sure how I was doing and we ate the lunch we had prudently bought at a deli on the way. I pointed out that if I were at home I would very likely have been knitting and listening to NPR, and it was nice there. She want back inside. Those socks got a lot done. Eventually she came out again, and gave me a chance to go look at the line to the bathroom, and also some very nice Egyptian paintings, and we were both happy. We headed to Penn Station, a little late to be as early as Ellie would have liked, but the train was an hour late getting in and by then we had had enough of being there early. It did not hurt, however, as the train was fully booked and we were able to get seats together.
I had a wonderful time. I liked travelling on the bus, where you could see everything, like the Chrysler Building and the New York Times Building and as much as I wanted of Ground Zero, and the names of all the places in songs (Seventh Avenue, Broadway, Herald Square, Uptown (with Billy Joel's Girl), Downtown (with Petula Clark), 42nd Street, and on and on). I liked travelling on the subway, which was fast and mixed modern mosaics with the original station decoration. There is food everywhere.
I would like to go back to everywhere I went. Only in better shoes, and not the week after Christmas. Conspicuous absence of fiber shops on this tour (daughter and I trying successfully not to test one another to destruction). I gather there are several other places I might enjoy going, as well.
An important critic raises a question, Coriolis problems
My father points out that I haven't blogged in a while. This is indeed the case. Now, while he is important to me in a narrow biological and a much wider social emotional way, he has a certain objective importance. In despair at the kind of handbasket we are all riding in, and because there is less and less review of books in the print media (and somehow Oprah never covers scholarly works), he has started The Internet Review of Books, q. you should v. And if you have expertise in anything and would like to review books, you might drop him a line. He has been enjoying (in the sense of surfing a small, not terribly destructive tidal wave) making the contacts to get the books and to review the books and editing the reviews and Getting It Out On Time. I think one of his first real jobs was as a reporter for the Dallas Times-Herald of blessed memory, so it is kind of cool for him to be getting it and writing it and putting a headline on it (albeit in a wholly other medium. Or not -- it's still written words) like he was maybe 60 years ago.
I am coughing much less. I have not needed to kill my boss at all lately; it is very pleasant feeling we are on the same side. The number of snow days has not been a bad thing, either. I had the Miraculous Conjunction of Taking Minutes for Two Board Meetings in One Day again last week. I realized that if I hadn't been taking minutes I would have been completely unable to pay any attention to the proceedings whatever (for I am a weak mortal damaged by original sin, or maybe just an uncaring dilettante with a taste for cafe life instead. Or both.)
I am having a weird desire (not unaffected by meeting a OneLaptopPerChild laptop) to learn Linux. Mostly I have hate and fear and love Microsoft; I am getting good at Word and although I want to leave him, I still think maybe if I love him enough he will quite acting like a vicious, kludgy monopoly....
I have finished a pair of adult-size Coriolis socks. I think the pattern might work better if you were using fewer than five stitches per inch, as the sexy band might not interact with the heel the way it did in my socks and the way it didn't in Sarah's.I was going to write about the almost unruffled calm joy I was getting from making them (though this was also due to the lovely soft green Jager Sock yarn, over to whose proprietors I may have to deed my house next festival. Then I had a Little Problem with the second heel. Like six times? I don't blame the pattern, although you can get really tired of flipping pages (Go to heels, p. 120. Do Step Four. But if you're doing the reinforced heel, go to p 124. Where it says, "Step Four (same as in Plain heel.")). While you are doing this, don't skip a step. It shows.
Sarah, however, reports, that her Coriolis socks, despite their beauty and perfectly distributed band, twist on her feet like tube socks and don't act like they have a heel. I haven't worn mine yet.
Now I am making a hat for me mum. I also had an epochal experience on the sewing machine -- I didn't want to throw it out the window even once!!! This is a first. It does not hurt that I had found the manual for the machine, that I was well rested (this was last Monday's snow day), and that I had good stuff (I had the brainwave of asking Sarah if she had a cloth-scrap stash. She does. It contains stash she stole in her infancy from her mother's stash, and scraps from her grandmother's, so although it is confined demurely to one plastic bin, there was a lot of stuff. Some of it's mine now, NOM NOM NOM. Now I have a start on a decorated shirt and two tea cozies (and I also cut out the lining for a felted wool vest (June 5, 2005, you don't want to hurry these things)). I promised to make an embroidered tea cosy for Alice, for whose mother I made one in 1997. I have also just bought a book on Beaded Embellishment, because although I don't have enough books I do have almost enough beads, and Sarah is having The Joy Of Almost-Instant Gratification making beaded stitch markers. It is fairly obvious from this post alone that Effectively Blogless Sarah and I are co-enablers of the worst kind.
It was delightful to have scraps and feel all Craft-Magazine and cheap and not have to buy stuff to do all this (though I did buy the yard of batik I used for lining last fall because it was beautiful, and I was right; there was a use for it eventually). Now all I have to do is sew the patches onto Doug's shirt, sew the lining into the vest (I bought seam binding and the right color thread. Isn't that the same as doing the actual work?), and embellish the tea cozies. And get the pins out of one of them, it keeps biting.
I am coughing much less. I have not needed to kill my boss at all lately; it is very pleasant feeling we are on the same side. The number of snow days has not been a bad thing, either. I had the Miraculous Conjunction of Taking Minutes for Two Board Meetings in One Day again last week. I realized that if I hadn't been taking minutes I would have been completely unable to pay any attention to the proceedings whatever (for I am a weak mortal damaged by original sin, or maybe just an uncaring dilettante with a taste for cafe life instead. Or both.)
I am having a weird desire (not unaffected by meeting a OneLaptopPerChild laptop) to learn Linux. Mostly I have hate and fear and love Microsoft; I am getting good at Word and although I want to leave him, I still think maybe if I love him enough he will quite acting like a vicious, kludgy monopoly....
I have finished a pair of adult-size Coriolis socks. I think the pattern might work better if you were using fewer than five stitches per inch, as the sexy band might not interact with the heel the way it did in my socks and the way it didn't in Sarah's.I was going to write about the almost unruffled calm joy I was getting from making them (though this was also due to the lovely soft green Jager Sock yarn, over to whose proprietors I may have to deed my house next festival. Then I had a Little Problem with the second heel. Like six times? I don't blame the pattern, although you can get really tired of flipping pages (Go to heels, p. 120. Do Step Four. But if you're doing the reinforced heel, go to p 124. Where it says, "Step Four (same as in Plain heel.")). While you are doing this, don't skip a step. It shows.
Sarah, however, reports, that her Coriolis socks, despite their beauty and perfectly distributed band, twist on her feet like tube socks and don't act like they have a heel. I haven't worn mine yet.
Now I am making a hat for me mum. I also had an epochal experience on the sewing machine -- I didn't want to throw it out the window even once!!! This is a first. It does not hurt that I had found the manual for the machine, that I was well rested (this was last Monday's snow day), and that I had good stuff (I had the brainwave of asking Sarah if she had a cloth-scrap stash. She does. It contains stash she stole in her infancy from her mother's stash, and scraps from her grandmother's, so although it is confined demurely to one plastic bin, there was a lot of stuff. Some of it's mine now, NOM NOM NOM. Now I have a start on a decorated shirt and two tea cozies (and I also cut out the lining for a felted wool vest (June 5, 2005, you don't want to hurry these things)). I promised to make an embroidered tea cosy for Alice, for whose mother I made one in 1997. I have also just bought a book on Beaded Embellishment, because although I don't have enough books I do have almost enough beads, and Sarah is having The Joy Of Almost-Instant Gratification making beaded stitch markers. It is fairly obvious from this post alone that Effectively Blogless Sarah and I are co-enablers of the worst kind.
It was delightful to have scraps and feel all Craft-Magazine and cheap and not have to buy stuff to do all this (though I did buy the yard of batik I used for lining last fall because it was beautiful, and I was right; there was a use for it eventually). Now all I have to do is sew the patches onto Doug's shirt, sew the lining into the vest (I bought seam binding and the right color thread. Isn't that the same as doing the actual work?), and embellish the tea cozies. And get the pins out of one of them, it keeps biting.
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
Dec 27, and I mean it.
So we went to the Met. Even through Ellie's fog, she managed to have a good time, and I was very very pleased to see things of the Ancient World again. There is no doubt that the OBD is the Top Classicist in the house, knowing more Latin and probably more Greek than I did in my prime, but my blood still stirs. There are the wall paintings form Boscoreale , there are gold coins, there are carved gem seals, there are exquisite painted vases
This is the vase featured in Elizabeth Wayland Barber's _Women's Work, the First 20,000 Years_, to which some of you may have heard me refer once or twice. It's less than 10" tall.
there are bronzes
there is the Etruscan chariot I had never ever heard of and it's really good (my pictures are all details, not very useful.
You can see the ivory tusks in the boar's head. This was a classy vehicle.
We eventually ate in the basement cafeteria, which my aunt had warned us against for reasons of her own. It was crowded, but at least there was room to sit and the entrees were under $17. There were small children there, including two brothers of five and three, whose mother had brought them (really just the older one, but the smaller one was part of the package and she had managed to hand off the 16-month old to her mom at home)to an educational undertaking about mummies (get it?), actually ancient Egypt. I have no idea what the kid got out of the presentation, but he and his brother _loved_ the yellow cardboard taxis the French fries were served in. They want to crash them into one another (which I thought was natural NY taxi behavior) but she wouldn't let them. So the eldest made his into a rocket and counted it down and blasted it off. It was pretty good for luncheon theater.
I did go to the gift shop, but there was nothing I could afford/carry that I wanted.
We did not last anywhere near closing time. We folded, and went to stand in line for cheap tickets at TKTS. I am told we were there, on already scandalized feet, for two and half hours. Fortunately I had a couple of socks to knit. Ellie got tea and cash (they do not take credit cards). We had hoped to see a musical, but ended up with Kevin Kline (and Jennifer Garner and the evil prince Humperdinck, or at least the same actor playing much the same role) in Cyrano do Bergerac. The play was translated from the French by Anthony Burgess (Clockwork Orange et al)into mostly blank verse, and the actors did it well. The first three scenes were funny and the last was just so sad, I wanted to swat Cyrano up the head. Kevin Kline is delightful even with nose.
Between waiting for tickets and going to the show we ate cheap, tasty Mexican. Times Square was just as crowded (very, very, very) at 11:30 pm as it was at 5 p.m., which was sort of interesting. City that never sleeps is right.
This is the vase featured in Elizabeth Wayland Barber's _Women's Work, the First 20,000 Years_, to which some of you may have heard me refer once or twice. It's less than 10" tall.
there are bronzes
there is the Etruscan chariot I had never ever heard of and it's really good (my pictures are all details, not very useful.
You can see the ivory tusks in the boar's head. This was a classy vehicle.
We eventually ate in the basement cafeteria, which my aunt had warned us against for reasons of her own. It was crowded, but at least there was room to sit and the entrees were under $17. There were small children there, including two brothers of five and three, whose mother had brought them (really just the older one, but the smaller one was part of the package and she had managed to hand off the 16-month old to her mom at home)to an educational undertaking about mummies (get it?), actually ancient Egypt. I have no idea what the kid got out of the presentation, but he and his brother _loved_ the yellow cardboard taxis the French fries were served in. They want to crash them into one another (which I thought was natural NY taxi behavior) but she wouldn't let them. So the eldest made his into a rocket and counted it down and blasted it off. It was pretty good for luncheon theater.
I did go to the gift shop, but there was nothing I could afford/carry that I wanted.
We did not last anywhere near closing time. We folded, and went to stand in line for cheap tickets at TKTS. I am told we were there, on already scandalized feet, for two and half hours. Fortunately I had a couple of socks to knit. Ellie got tea and cash (they do not take credit cards). We had hoped to see a musical, but ended up with Kevin Kline (and Jennifer Garner and the evil prince Humperdinck, or at least the same actor playing much the same role) in Cyrano do Bergerac. The play was translated from the French by Anthony Burgess (Clockwork Orange et al)into mostly blank verse, and the actors did it well. The first three scenes were funny and the last was just so sad, I wanted to swat Cyrano up the head. Kevin Kline is delightful even with nose.
Between waiting for tickets and going to the show we ate cheap, tasty Mexican. Times Square was just as crowded (very, very, very) at 11:30 pm as it was at 5 p.m., which was sort of interesting. City that never sleeps is right.
Saturday, January 05, 2008
Saturday and Sunday and I think Thursday
I am indeed partial to mice, particularly ones who live where they should (outside), although the one who lived in my fridge eating tortillas was very dear (he grew a long, shaggy coat...tusks for scraping through the frost....).
I started this on Saturday Jan 5 and now it's the 6th. So glad I did not have to go to work to sit in front of a computer and find it hard to remember what I am doing (blogging is easier; if I forget what I'm doing I can always look at yarn or something till I remember). I haven't slept very well lately either, so it's quite surreal.
Anyway. I still have the cold that foundered Atlantis (it now comes with a cough that rocks Knossos) and have spent Saturday sleeping late, redoing the second Little Coriolis sock so it works, and taking a nap.
Hey, does it mean I have FOUR finished objects for 2008 so far? Two Little Sky socks and two Little Coriolis, one in each direction? I can tell you that the directions are good. I can imagine that someday I would know what I am doing. But right now I am just mouth-breathing through Cat Bordhi's belief that her Left-Leaning Increase is not of itself increase+do the rest of the stitch. You do the increase, and she says K2, and she means K the 'daughter' stitch whose hopes have got up since you were increasing its 'mother',which you were certainly going to anyway, and then another stitch. It is possible that everyone calls the increase and the next K 2 stitches rather than one action, but it has been awhile since I tried to do anything much with directions. Anyway, not much in the way of intellect; it is good she has very solid directions. I have to remember to eat and drink all my own. Even in this state I am tired of the color of yarn I am using. It looked lovely in the skein and ...eh in the ball or the FO. Now that I have finished the two pairs of baby socks (anyone know any babies?) I am thinking of essaying a grown-up Coriolis Sock. I even decided I would use the Icelandic I think Too Much Wool made me buy at the MA Sheep&wool in 'o6, although now I am looking at this ball of sock yarn...Anyway, Saturday's big exertion was untangling several different up-market yarns with or without attached, vestigial UFO's, which took a while and must have involved cats at some point to get to that point...and another pair of nearly finished fingerless gloves, apparently made by a fingerless glove maniac with ADD who was here last year.
For complicated reasons having to do with NPR I am reading the very funny blog of a British/Egyptian woman,.
Right then. I think we were up to Dec. 27. We went to The Met. By this time Ellie had decided she would master the subways, which are much faster as well as much cheaper than the taxi. There is less scenic to enjoy, however. We had much less luggage and we were mentally prepared for the huge numbers of people, and to tell the truth, the heaving throngs weren't so bad once we left the outer portals of the ancient world. Ellie had a cold and was somewhat vague, but she managed, after a very pleasant half-hour, to suggest that we go look at Roman antiquities while she still had some brain cells, before her feet started to hurt. I am told it is a new wing. It was splendid.
I still haven't said anything about Dec. 27 and now it's Monday. I was just short of useless at work today. I have now spent the available time tonight trying to learn how the cool people use Flickr to illustrate their blogs, and it looks like you have to upload all the pictures and then write the blog around them. I don't think I can think that far ahead. So I will continue to use Photobucket and also have a Flickr gallery. Or something. But now I have to post this and go to bed. I have up to the heel of a Laura-sized Coriolis Sock and a chunk of instep of the second one on the needles (unless thye have fallen off)made out of the allegedly khaki Jager Farms yarn, and I have to vote tomorrow.
The OBD is immersed in Trying to Decide and though I advise her not to worry too much she is doing research and can't find any one candidate whose views she entirely agrees with. Was I raised more pragmatic? Yes. Am I also old and jaded? Definitely. I realized that my mother was only 33 in 1968, which of course from 51 looks like the bloom of youthful early maturity. No wonder she worries about people getting shot. I worry too. Trauma, the gift that goes on giving....but I am so grateful that we don't seem, yet, to have tanks in the streets.
----------------
Thursday, January 03, 2008
Coughing (Boxing Day)
I was supposed to go back to work yesterday. I knew I felt much too awful, and it was a good call. By the end of the day I felt reasonable. Whether my boss believed me then I am pretty sure he will after he hears me. This cold does not give you a fresh new feeling in the morning, though, and I AM going back to work today (obviously. I need to be there in less than two hours, so I am blogging). I'd prefer to get better without using antibiotics. It would be nice if I had a PCP in this state (my own choice, completely). Also if I knew for sure which antibiotic made me come out in whole-body hives the last time (I think it was erythromycin. Damn sure not taking ampicillin again. Or Bactrim.)
Meanwhile: On the Feast of Stephen, the daughter and I arrived in New York at about 11 AM. There is very good pizza near Penn Station (name and address to be posted later, because I am getting dressed and can't go find the menu). It had a banner proclaiming it to be one of the ten best pizzas in New York, according to "You've heard of Zagat? It's like Zagat, only for pizzerias." This made us wonder what it was like to be a pizza critic for a living. Do you only eat them when you are on the clock? The rest of the time, do you only eat things with a fork and and a nice cloth napkin?
Like everywhere else we ate in New York, the pizzeria was scrupulously clean (I really mean this) and I might as well say from the outset that every single person we spoke to was friendly and helpful and spoke adequate English. I love New York. It is so big.
Our hotel, the Park Savoy, did not want us to check in until 3 pm.
and what holiday is the dinosaur celebrating,anyway? "Five Million Years and Still No Comet"?
We decided to go the American Museum of Natural History, as it was not that far from the hotel as the taxi flies (my mother is deeply into taxis)(everything is far, in New York).
When I lived in greater Boston, I made a thing of never going to a museum during school vacation. Life in rural NH had made me forget this. The AMNH was FULL of people of various heights, mostly behaving quite well. But it was hard to walk. Anywhere. Let alone back and forth through various lines to the check room, and then to the line to the secondary checkroom, which was staffed by nice people whose usual job this was not, being yelled at by unkind patrons. It was also very hot. We managed to check my wheelie, her backpack, our coats, but it was already obvious we were not at the top of our form. Then we waited in the line for the bathroom. I had come down with the Painful Polygons in Stomach disease, which might have been a bug or might have been way too much rich food the two days before. I waited in the line for I believe every Ladies' Room in the AMNH, and they all moved relatively quickly. I felt for my daughter, in a strange city with someone who moaned and occasionally said she thought she might die. I am used more to nauseated stomachs than nauseated with PAIN.
The purpose of the trip was to give Ellie enough time to spend in the Met with someone whom she would not feel her Roman interests imposed upon. We had chosen this museum because it would be acceptable and I could go check out the American Indian cases. These were good purposes but the press of people and the beaten condition of our bodies compelled us to take what we could get relatively easily.
We went to a very fine all about water life, and then to a hall of meteorites, and a very good exhibit of pre-homo sapiens persons. It was very heartening to see how many people there were interested enough to be reading the labels. All of these were good, only our feet hurt and we were toast from Christmas and neither of us does well in crowds. I was in such low shape I did not care to check out the gift shop. I did have the first CocaCola in several years and even without cocaine it's a good stomachic, and I felt less like I was going to die, heave, explode.... but it is a sad thing to be in New York and want to hurl when you see a menu.
We had a cultural divide. She thought the big panoramas of African Veldt or PaleArctic were dull. I had loved them when I was tiny (we lived in New Jersey from the time I was six till I was 13, so I used to go the NYC more often). I thought the Ocean thing was okay but maybe a bit much; she liked the 'something going on where ever you look' aspect. I did like the clouds scudding across the ceiling. And we had one of those milestone mother-daughter talks where she said, "Mom, what's the deal with mangroves?" and I was able to impart to her my knowledge of the red and the black and brackish and to dwell, as we had never had a chance to chat before, on the importance of coastal marshes. It was good.
At last it was late enough to try to spring our possessions and go to the hotel. It was, as we had been warned, small, but it had entirely adequate furniture and a bed and an amazingly clean bathroom--actually, it had a shower. The only time I can recall really wanting a whirlpool bath in a hotel where I was staying for non-amatory reasons, and alas, it was not to be. The hotel is cheap. Only less so the week between Christmas and New Year's.
We slept for three hours.
We went out for food. Even though it was dark, in a Big City, and in fact was doing a nice line in cold driving rain. Angela's Rock Star Delicatessen provided food, a comfortable place to sit, not-loud ambient music. I asked Ellie if she wanted to go clubbing. Oddly, she refused.
I am hoping she will come back to NH tomorrow and I will have access to our photographs.
Meanwhile: On the Feast of Stephen, the daughter and I arrived in New York at about 11 AM. There is very good pizza near Penn Station (name and address to be posted later, because I am getting dressed and can't go find the menu). It had a banner proclaiming it to be one of the ten best pizzas in New York, according to "You've heard of Zagat? It's like Zagat, only for pizzerias." This made us wonder what it was like to be a pizza critic for a living. Do you only eat them when you are on the clock? The rest of the time, do you only eat things with a fork and and a nice cloth napkin?
Like everywhere else we ate in New York, the pizzeria was scrupulously clean (I really mean this) and I might as well say from the outset that every single person we spoke to was friendly and helpful and spoke adequate English. I love New York. It is so big.
Our hotel, the Park Savoy, did not want us to check in until 3 pm.
and what holiday is the dinosaur celebrating,anyway? "Five Million Years and Still No Comet"?
We decided to go the American Museum of Natural History, as it was not that far from the hotel as the taxi flies (my mother is deeply into taxis)(everything is far, in New York).
When I lived in greater Boston, I made a thing of never going to a museum during school vacation. Life in rural NH had made me forget this. The AMNH was FULL of people of various heights, mostly behaving quite well. But it was hard to walk. Anywhere. Let alone back and forth through various lines to the check room, and then to the line to the secondary checkroom, which was staffed by nice people whose usual job this was not, being yelled at by unkind patrons. It was also very hot. We managed to check my wheelie, her backpack, our coats, but it was already obvious we were not at the top of our form. Then we waited in the line for the bathroom. I had come down with the Painful Polygons in Stomach disease, which might have been a bug or might have been way too much rich food the two days before. I waited in the line for I believe every Ladies' Room in the AMNH, and they all moved relatively quickly. I felt for my daughter, in a strange city with someone who moaned and occasionally said she thought she might die. I am used more to nauseated stomachs than nauseated with PAIN.
The purpose of the trip was to give Ellie enough time to spend in the Met with someone whom she would not feel her Roman interests imposed upon. We had chosen this museum because it would be acceptable and I could go check out the American Indian cases. These were good purposes but the press of people and the beaten condition of our bodies compelled us to take what we could get relatively easily.
We went to a very fine all about water life, and then to a hall of meteorites, and a very good exhibit of pre-homo sapiens persons. It was very heartening to see how many people there were interested enough to be reading the labels. All of these were good, only our feet hurt and we were toast from Christmas and neither of us does well in crowds. I was in such low shape I did not care to check out the gift shop. I did have the first CocaCola in several years and even without cocaine it's a good stomachic, and I felt less like I was going to die, heave, explode.... but it is a sad thing to be in New York and want to hurl when you see a menu.
We had a cultural divide. She thought the big panoramas of African Veldt or PaleArctic were dull. I had loved them when I was tiny (we lived in New Jersey from the time I was six till I was 13, so I used to go the NYC more often). I thought the Ocean thing was okay but maybe a bit much; she liked the 'something going on where ever you look' aspect. I did like the clouds scudding across the ceiling. And we had one of those milestone mother-daughter talks where she said, "Mom, what's the deal with mangroves?" and I was able to impart to her my knowledge of the red and the black and brackish and to dwell, as we had never had a chance to chat before, on the importance of coastal marshes. It was good.
At last it was late enough to try to spring our possessions and go to the hotel. It was, as we had been warned, small, but it had entirely adequate furniture and a bed and an amazingly clean bathroom--actually, it had a shower. The only time I can recall really wanting a whirlpool bath in a hotel where I was staying for non-amatory reasons, and alas, it was not to be. The hotel is cheap. Only less so the week between Christmas and New Year's.
We slept for three hours.
We went out for food. Even though it was dark, in a Big City, and in fact was doing a nice line in cold driving rain. Angela's Rock Star Delicatessen provided food, a comfortable place to sit, not-loud ambient music. I asked Ellie if she wanted to go clubbing. Oddly, she refused.
I am hoping she will come back to NH tomorrow and I will have access to our photographs.
Tuesday, January 01, 2008
New Year's Day (Christmas Day)
I am Joe's Kleenex. Or actually, I have borrowed Joe's Kleenex and he won't want it back. But I don't ache all over any more. Doug and I made it to about 11 pm and folded, although, it being New Hampshire, someone not far set off fireworks so I gathered midnight must have taken place locally. It is certainly 2008 today.
Do you know, it SNOWED today! Only about four more inches. Making maybe a foot on the ground. I filled the birdfeeders because we are getting mixed flocks of about 50 Redpolls (as charming a bird as anyone could want)and about forty Evening Grosbeaks( who wear white shoes and belts after Labor Day, but are basically all right). Marten helped me. He waded in snow up to his armpits and did not think much good of it.
Christmas Day went pleasantly, although I failed to set fire to the oven while making Yorkshire pudding and disappointed people for the second or third year running. The plum pudding came out very well; too well, I had two helpings and did not feel right for the next 48 hours. I think we had a good time, our immediate family enlivened by the addition of Doug and Lisa. We did not get a picture of the family all together because Sam was late arriving and Ellie had gone off to be with her boyfriend. Lively was the to-ing and fro-ing with cars, as Doug went back to NH, taking Ellie's and my spoils; Ellie took my car to Woburn. I was Sam's passenger in a car that I think belonged to one of Kimberly's friends (My parents left a bit earlier). I went back to their house to ponder my indigestion and yearn for sleep. Ellie arrived there about 10 pm. The next day my parents took my car back to the ex's for free parking. Ellie and I had not enough sleep, as we arose at 5:00 to catch the 6:10 to Penn Station.
I am folding for the day myself now, so New York will have wait yet another day. I gave Sarah the Cat Bordhi book of which Everyone is Talking. Ellie thoughtfully gave me a copy, so we cast on about the same time. Sarah is diving in with the Coriolis; I have spent today making nearly all of the Little Sky sock. I didn't start till late; it is not impossible. There is an errata page on her website as well as links to her YouTube, which I recommend if you are as slow as I am to figure out the Magic Cast-On of Judy Becker, or for reassurance in the LIttle Sky sock generally. The Cast-on one is quite funny. I am happy to know I am not the only one who makes her needles and stitches talk in little voices.
Do you know, it SNOWED today! Only about four more inches. Making maybe a foot on the ground. I filled the birdfeeders because we are getting mixed flocks of about 50 Redpolls (as charming a bird as anyone could want)and about forty Evening Grosbeaks( who wear white shoes and belts after Labor Day, but are basically all right). Marten helped me. He waded in snow up to his armpits and did not think much good of it.
Christmas Day went pleasantly, although I failed to set fire to the oven while making Yorkshire pudding and disappointed people for the second or third year running. The plum pudding came out very well; too well, I had two helpings and did not feel right for the next 48 hours. I think we had a good time, our immediate family enlivened by the addition of Doug and Lisa. We did not get a picture of the family all together because Sam was late arriving and Ellie had gone off to be with her boyfriend. Lively was the to-ing and fro-ing with cars, as Doug went back to NH, taking Ellie's and my spoils; Ellie took my car to Woburn. I was Sam's passenger in a car that I think belonged to one of Kimberly's friends (My parents left a bit earlier). I went back to their house to ponder my indigestion and yearn for sleep. Ellie arrived there about 10 pm. The next day my parents took my car back to the ex's for free parking. Ellie and I had not enough sleep, as we arose at 5:00 to catch the 6:10 to Penn Station.
I am folding for the day myself now, so New York will have wait yet another day. I gave Sarah the Cat Bordhi book of which Everyone is Talking. Ellie thoughtfully gave me a copy, so we cast on about the same time. Sarah is diving in with the Coriolis; I have spent today making nearly all of the Little Sky sock. I didn't start till late; it is not impossible. There is an errata page on her website as well as links to her YouTube, which I recommend if you are as slow as I am to figure out the Magic Cast-On of Judy Becker, or for reassurance in the LIttle Sky sock generally. The Cast-on one is quite funny. I am happy to know I am not the only one who makes her needles and stitches talk in little voices.
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