Saturday, January 23, 2010

Hands

I am a tornado of feelings tonight.


Feelings of goodwill, feelings of sheer terror, feelings of misgiving, feelings of seething, raging anger (that may be the dominant one!).

And then I read this.

And Connie somehow grounded me.

She reminded me that All Of It, every last frickin thing, is fleeting.

The goodwill will be replaced with its usual cynicism.
The terror will either culminate, or pass by.
The misgivings will either come to naught, or blow up into a full catastrophe.
The anger. Oh, the anger.
It isn't worth my time, or the effort required to pay it heed.

Instead, I will think about my hands, and all of the things my own hands have done.

And I will pray that I can keep these hands from closing around a particular neck....
just kidding!!


Thursday, January 21, 2010

Growing Pleasure

The Gathered Pullover, from Interweave.


Love the yarn.

Love the color.

Love the softness and the sheen.

I'm lost in a wilderness of stockinette.

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Sorely Disappointed

Madame, dinnah is served...


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...or, not.

Good Lord. This would not work for me at all.

Effective Marketing or Really Thoughtful Guy?

You know you eat out too much... when the restaurants send you Get Well Wishes when they don't see you for a week.


Just kidding.


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You rawk, Jimmy...but Dude, I would have been happier to see a bunch of spareribs in a glass.
Al was happier with the flowers. Me, I'm all about the food. Especially Jimmy's spareribs.

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These are gorgeous.

I emailed the pics to Al. First thing she said?
"What's all that crap all over my kitchen table! Are you picking up?!?"

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I don't know what those little purple flowers are, but they smell heavenly.

And now I'm jonesing for Bali Hai.

Saturday, January 16, 2010

New Chapters


I was bored. I decided to wind some yarn. (It was decidedly less calories than the brownies I was going to make.)

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Lovely lime...

Speaking of brownies: have I ever mentioned that The Big Guy always hated my brownies?

Yeah. He would complain to all and sundry that my brownies always came out 1/4 inch high, and overcooked.
Then I went on Weight Watchers and stopped eating the raw batter before baking brownies.

My brownies improved dramatically. He's much happier. I still snitch the batter, but only a spoonful, not half the bowl.
Conversely, my waistline did NOT get any smaller.


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Once I wound all that gorgeous spring-like soft and squishy goodness, I thought I'd just as soon cast on, and get the join settled. I abhor the join. I have to get the first 7 or so rows done before I can get into a rhythm.

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I will tell you about these luscious lovelies tomorrow. I need to find the pictures of them. I may need to re-take pictures of them.

Sneak peek here. Dawn has awesome stuff!

Now, I'm off to break my cardinal rule, and cast on for yet another project.

It's a new year, folks, and time to re-think the way things are done.
Should be interesting!

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Dispensing Benefaction

I have a gift for all you knitters out there.


I am going to say something that will boost your self-esteem right up to the clouds.

You will feel accomplished.
Masterly.
Organized.
Complete.


I am frantically knitting the last of my Christmas gifts.

ps. I gave out all my handknit gifts while in Boston last week, and never took photos of any of them. Good thing you don't need a license to knit, mine would be revoked!
(I will attempt to catch them 'in the wild' over the next few weeks.)

Monday, January 11, 2010

A Bad Country Song

What do you get when you play a country music song backwards?

You get your dog back, your truck back, your job back, your girl back...

Sunday, January 10, 2010

Up.

Recipe for a Roadtrip to Boston with The Things to do Christmas with the Family:

We pack up everything we own. My heart breaks into 8 million pieces as I check on the cat's food and water and realize that we have no cat, nor a food or water bowl because it's all gone and she's buried in the backyard.
Moving on.
I experience a minor medical calamity that I don't have time for, and very nearly miss the darned ferry.
Drag kids, 482 bags, a cooler and a carseat (booster seat) onto the ferry boat. It's cold.
I try not to think about cat being cold.
I gag, remembering again.
Think of big steaming mug of coffee with Sambuca instead.
Realize Sambuca was name of last cat.
Choke, and trip over rolling suitcase whose wheels have gone awry. Realize It's been dragging for some time as evidenced by the drag marks in the sand on the road. Realize also that everybody in the ferry terminal is watching. Wave to the windows at the ferry terminal. No less than four people wave back. Glad to provide comic relief.
Head into ferry office to buy tickets. Visit with the Crazy Girls who run the show.
Head over to the van, which I haven't laid eyes on since October-something. It's plowed in.
Way in.
Decide to wait until next ferry is loaded, as a huge dump truck is in front of my van, and it looks like I'm going to need a ferocious running start to slam my way out of that snowbank.
Visit with Crazy Girls for almost an hour, until ferry boat leaves.
Borrow shovel to break up ice covering snowbank. Ice will rip off the oil pan under your car.
Ask me how I know this.

Ice breaks up easily as it's turned rather warm and sunny (for winter in Maine). Load kids into car. Search for carseat. Find carseat in ferry office, where nobody claims to have put it, 15 minutes later.
Strap in carseat. Check seatbelts on both Things, neither of whom can be trusted to buckle correctly.
Insert key into ignition....and we're off....
Um, no.
Dead battery.

Get out of car to ask for a jump. Crazy Girls are in hysterics. One of them pulls up to my car.
Search entire car four times (just in case I missed them the first three) for the impossible-to-miss bright yellow jumper cables my Dad bought me when I was 20 that I've carried in my car for 23 years and never, ever used.
Look through entire car (which also doubles as a dumpster in a McDonald's judging by the wrappers in back there) once again, wondering how I could be missing them.
Realize, finally, that they are not there.
Thank Crazy Girl for trying to help, and call AAA.

AAA spends no less than 20 minutes trying to find the Bass Harbor Ferry Terminal. AAA girl is super-nice, and laughs as she insists it doesn't exist.
Yet I'm sitting in it, I tell her.
Maybe it's a different town, she says.
Yeah. Try Bangor. That's close.
Finally, she finds it. In Tremont. Tremont is even smaller than Bass Harbor.
Whatever.
AAA girl will send somebody out to me in about an hour. Awesome, thanks!
Are we somewhere safe? Will we be okay to stay near the car?
I don't want to tell her I've slept in my car in this parking lot before (before kids), so I laugh and say We Couldn't Be Any Safer.

Call the Big Guy. (Really I was calling to ask about the battery...how old is it, did he think it needed to be replaced, etc?)
He assumes I'm calling to find out about The Mysteriously Missing Jumper Cables.
The ones hanging on the wall of his shop. The ones he used to jump the battery on the lawnmower and never put back in the van.
He speaks his mind. Loudly. Make a mental mote to retaliate at the next meal I cook for him.
Never bite the hand that feeds you.
Hang up.

Wish I hadn't told the kids not to bring their homework. They could have had it all done by now.
Oh, well.
See a truck slow down, scanning the parking lot. Jump out to flag down the AAA guy.
Scare the pants off some guy just out for a ride in a pickup. He speeds off.
See another tuck slowing down. Cautiously approach vehicle. See the driver eye me warily before speeding away while simultaneously locking his doors.
Start jonesing for a coffee, BAD.
Perk up- see a tow truck. This has got to be them!
It is! The truck stops at my car, and a kid just a year or two older than my six year old son gets out.
But look at that- he knows what he's doing. In 30 seconds, he's got the car started, and gives me instructions that go something like, 'Don't shut the car off for about an hour to charge the battery...yadda, yadda, yadda'.

He eyes that snowbank. I'm probably going to have to pull you outta there, he says.
No way, dude. Just get out of the way. This ain't my first rodeo.
While he's jockeying into position to pull me out, I shoot out of that snowbank like the Discovery Space Shuttle.
And the oil pan stays intact.
I love to impress the young'uns. (He was awesome, and AAA rocks!)

Finally get on the road, suffering painful caffeine withdrawals. The Things are moaning and clutching their stomachs, on the verge of death from starvation. That's what they're saying, over and over.
Realize that the painful caffeine withdrawals are really the start to a nice-sized migraine.
Pull over on side of road to search all 482 bags for Wonder Drug called Excedrine Migraine. Find it in the last bag.
Say small prayer of thanks to the person responsible for these little beauties, ignoring the blasphemy, knowing it will bite me later. Such is life.

Make it to Ellsworth. Feed the Things more McDonald's crap to stop the whining from the backseat. Fight nausea from food smell, thanks to migraine.
Lose.
Drive right into the automotive department at SuperWallyWorld and park in front of their garage door to test my battery. What better place?
Lo and behold...it works. Off we go.

Make it to the highway. Me, and 482 million other people. Why am I not the only one on the road?
Realize, grudgingly, that I will not be able to set the cruise and nurse my pounding head all the way to Boston.
Realize that I will have to battle crazy drivers for the next four hours.
Realize that my arms are frickin' killin' me!
More medical calamity? No, it's the steering wheel. The wind is forcing me to fight to keep the van on the road.
Realize that there is, in fact, no wind. (I am very tuned in to the wind. I live on an island. I just got off a boat. I hate boats. There is no wind.)
Realize that the migraine and the staccato beat of pain in my head have masked a flat tire.
See an exit- Newport. (Yup. I drove all the way to Newport on a flat tire.)
Know that there is a big truck stop in Newport. Know I can get tire help there.
Take exit.
It's the wrong exit.
Look in vain for gas station. There should have been a big truck stop, two gas stations, a McDonald's, and most importantly, A Dunkin Donuts!
(That blasphemy will get you every time.)
See a large parking lot, with big trucks. Pull in to inspect tire.
Realize it's a DOT garage.
Begin to cry. Hard.
Nice man comes out of garage, begins to wring hands. Sees meltdown in progress, sees kids in back, sees flat tire.
Fixes tire. Bless his little heart.
Feel infinitely better! Faith in mankind restored to its usual low level!

Marvel at how much easier it is to steer on four tires!
Drive to Boston without further incident.

Even teach The Things how to spell Massachusetts.

Nowhere to go from here but up.





Saturday, January 9, 2010

Define 'flexible'?

Took Thing Two to the barber shop today. Busiest shop you ever saw, run by my cousin and his two nephews. Or something like that. Our family tree boasts clearly defined branches, but the labels have worn off. It's easier to just call them all 'cousins'.


While we waited our turn, Thing Two picked up a magazine. I noticed this with some pride.
Look at that. My boy is going to read all by himself. Love it!

I neglected to notice what magazine he'd picked up...
Until he turned it sideways, and exclaimed, "Boy, she suuuuure is... flexible".

I nearly fainted.
The guys in the shop howled with laughter.

My 'cousins', red with embarrassment (and likely fearing for their lives) grabbed away the offensiveness, and brought out the toy cars and lollipops.

Saturday, January 2, 2010

Cocoa and brownies

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That's all I need.

Cozy fleece blanket...check.
Knitting (Yup, still Xmas knitting.)...check.
Plenty of leftovers in fridge...check.

You know where to find me if you need me.

Happy New Year.