she's just saying...

Mel sandwich

Yum!

Like so many boomers, I've finally hit the "sandwich" years: we're starting to simultaneously care for our parents and children, with us in the middle, spread thinly.

Due to my parents' good health and sound minds, we've been ignoring the inevitable and gotten away with it for quite awhile. Both parents are cancer survivors, active in the community and quite self-sufficient. However, my 90-yr-old father fell and broke his hip today (second time) and is scheduled for surgery tomorrow.  Luckily, my sister was visiting and got them through the ambulance/hospital part but had to return home tonight. My mom is a pretty strong woman, but in her late 80's and not very mobile, in a big old stone farmhouse out in the boonies. So she needs help, and not just the virtual kind.

I'm headed to Portland on Monday for a series of Board events and will fly out Wed. through Monday to NC. The other siblings will then take their turns. On the bright side, my parents are financially stable, there are four of us to share the work, and everybody gets along more or less. There are a lot worse stories and we're clearly fortunate so far.

It's pretty hard on Henry when I leave, as I'm all he has here in the way of family. He stays with longtime friends, but gets anxious and homesick and school suffers. One of his biggest worries is that he'll get really hungry and won't get enough to eat (no need for Freud to figure that one out). It's a real issue for him as the other house is sugarfree and vegetarian. I leave him his own cellphone to call me and a sack of food: hopefully Rice Crispies snacks and turkey jerky will ease the pain.

So this is life, right? The downside of boomerhood is that everything that happens is already a cliche. But at least you have a lot of company. I'll post from the road.

"Amaryllis by Morning..."

Poetic license there. More like amaryllis by end of December, if I'm lucky.

Brrr! It was cold last year!

I love amaryllis. (I think the singular and plural are the same here). However, the better ones are absurdly expensive. Most years, I scrounge around trying to find bulbs on sale, but by that time, it's too late to have flowers by Christmas. I've also bought the "reject" started bulbs at our local garden centers - that works, but they come with pots and are pricey even on sale. And I always attempt to resurrect a few bulbs or plants from previous years, though normally I get tired of taking care of them by August and they wither away.

This year I found an amaryllis site on line (yes, this is how I spend my valuable free time) that had an assortment of 10 bulbs for a very reasonable cost. I prepped the potsand awaited the shipment, and they arrived Wed.

Very exciting. I'll post photos as they progress.

It's all about pie

Tgiving pies, originally uploaded by Meltrier.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

Fibonnaci and the Fourth Grade

I had to reprint this answer to my quiz yesterday from Sarah, as it's pretty amazing.

Here is a terrific summation: Lattice, or sieve, multiplication is algorithmically equivalent to long multiplication. It requires the preparation of a lattice (a grid drawn on paper) which guides the calculation and separates all the multiplications from the additions. It was introduced to Europe in 1202 in Fibonacci's Liber Abaci. Leonardo described the operation as mental, using his right and left hands to carry the intermediate calculations. Napier's bones, or Napier's rods also used this method, as published by Napier in 1617, the year of his death.

As shown in the example, the multiplicand and multiplier are written above and to the right of a lattice, or a sieve. It is found in Muhammad ibn Musa al-Khwarizmi's "Arithmetic", one of Leonardo's sources mentioned by Sigler, author of "Fibonacci's Liber Abaci", 2002.

During the multiplication phase, the lattice is filled in with two-digit products of the corresponding digits labeling each row and column: the tens digit goes in the top-left corner.

During the addition phase, the lattice is summed on the diagonals.

Finally, if a carry phase is necessary, the answer as shown along the left and bottom sides of the lattice is converted to normal form by carrying ten's digits as in long addition or multiplication.

This is absolutely helpful if Henry is interested in computer programming in C language especially.

Well, right now Henry only uses his computer to watch Pokemon cartoons on Cartoon Network, but I'll keep this in mind!

Contest: 4th grade math quiz

Are you as smart as a fourth-grader?

Apparently I'm not. Henry came home the other day with this.  

I studied it for some time and had NO IDEA what it represented. Once he explained it, it made sense, though I can't understand how it teaches any math principle in a usable way. Hello! Can parents get a cheat sheet here?!

So, my dear mathophile readers, here's my challenge: Explain what those diagrams are illustrating and win a DARLING HANDMADE CATNIP TOY. For either you or your cat. If you don't have a cat, I'll fill it with a more human-friendly hallucinogen. Just kidding, Homeland Security! (They monitor this blog, you know. I'm a known radical. Atheist, black kid, suspiciously single...)

Here are the rules. Figure it out, post your best guess answer. If y'all are stymied, I'll publish a hint on Thursday. First person to figure it out gets the prize. And the admiration and awe of your fellow blog readers. Priceless.

Top 10: Annoying song edition

Oo that's big!

Don't you just hate it when you catch yourself singing the same brief phrase of the same song over and over in your head all day? You don't do that? It's just me? Oh. Well, anyway, here's my list of:

Songs I Can't Get Out Of My Head:

1. "Zoboomafoo" theme song, drummed into me steadily for at least 3 formative years. Picture below, for you non-parental types.

2. "Oo Baby Baby," Smokey Robinson's masterpiece.

3. "Groove Is In The Heart." How can you not repeat: "The chills that you spill up my back give me a thrill..."? I can't. Not repeat it.

4. "Clifford" theme song. See #1.

5. "Don't Fence Me In" Roy Rogers version.

6. "Let It Snow" my own personal version.

7. Wilco's "Either Way."  I love how the drums come in halfway through the first phrase. I sing that part too.

8. "Love Hurts" Gram and Emmy Lou.

9. "China Doll" Two perfect sentences: "...just a little nervous from the fall."

10. "Crimson and Clover." Over and over.

 

Super cute. The puppet and piglet too!

So, anyone else? Time to share those songs with the world!

What isn't on the needles

I can't talk about what I'm knitting right now, as most of the intended recipients read my blog. So I'll tell you about the knitting I'm not doing.

I tend to be an ABS knitter: Anything But Sweaters. They take too long to finish, are either too boring or too complicated. I'd rather knit hats, scarves, wraps, socks, ponchos, dog sweaters, bags, mittens, felted objets and so forth. Quicker gratification and I get to move on to something else faster, crucial for the easily-bored. (Hmm -- men, jobs, knitting projects -- could there be a pattern here?)

However, I have this yarn that begs to be made into an intricate, elaborate, crunchy aran cardigan (we used to call them fisherman's sweaters). It's pure tweedy wool direct from the Shetland Islands, in a marled color named "Grouse." I've been obsessively searching for the perfect pattern, one with cables and textured stitches, but not too many charts, with a collar, more of a jacket than a cardigan, not too bulky, not too much stockinette, at a 15 stitch/4" gauge. Ravelry is the perfect enabler for this activity. I'm ashamed to admit (to non-knitters) how many hours I've spent tracking down leads, alternate yarns, photos of variations, charts of instructions, blogs, forums and posts on potential patterns. Hey, it's a creative obsession, right? 

Who knows if I'll ever cast on for this. Maybe this yarn is my golden (Shetland) fleece, a mythical object that represents all I seek from knitting; the archetypal project. Or maybe it's just too itchy.

How DOES she do it?

How does anyone do it? Take care of a home life while working full-time. Not to mention attempting to have a social life (of sorts).

Over my past nine motherhood years, I often get the comment "I don't know how you do it," referring to single parenting. I hear this most frequently from temporarily-single parents when their spouse is out of town. I always answer that it's easier if you know the situation going in and you have no other frame of reference. In other words, I've always done it alone, though admittedly with a lot of help some years (I'm talking to you, Mark!). It's just the way it is.

But there are times (okay, all the time) where I ask myself the same question. It's not just the routine stuff like laundry and dishes, it's the additional stuff that comes with running a life. I feel like if I stop for a minute; go out of town, go hiking for the day, attend more than one evening event in a week, it will all pile up and spill over on me like a jammed assembly line. And it never goes away.

I know -- stop the self-pitying time-wasting blogging and get up and do something! Or maybe I'll go sit on the couch and knit.

Crying fowl

Seriously. Do not blog about what I mentioned in my previous post. I myself will never mention the topic again. I can't handle the idea of all these visitors finding my site in their search results, clicking on it and hitting their "back" buttons as quickly as possible. I'm feeling rejected. I'm not what they want. I may be able to face this in my personal life, but it's just too much on my blog.

On the plus side, my site counter now reports over 5000 visitors, so that's pretty cool. However, two-thirds of them appear to have handmade poultry outergarment fetishes (I can't repeat the actual words).

MOVING ON...

Here are some gratuitous wild animal shots. I can't compete with Kathi D and her random celebrities, but how many people can post photos of themselves petting a badger?

                                Or posing with a turkey vulture?

                              

Good times, as they say.

I've found the secret to grow blog traffic

Post frequently about sweaters (or "jumpers") for chickens.

There's a huge untapped market for information about chicken knitting. (Knitting for chickens, not knitting with chickens.)

Personally, I will not only talk about chicken knitting, I plan to start posting patterns, samples, measuring guides, appropriate yarns for deflecting pecks and poop, and a gallery of comely hens modeling the latest styles. Kathi D, stand by to shoot your chickens. (With a camera, not a gun, of course.)

My traffic count will go through the roof.

Words to live by

These are the guiding phrases at Henry's elementary school. They're posted everywhere, in various forms.

Complete with specific examples:

The one in the library says "Return your books on time," the music class has "stop playing your instruments when I ask" and the gym exhorts kids to "wear your gym shoes." (I guess that's the "safe" aspect.)

Thinking about it, I think these words kind of say it all.

Maybe we should expand the campaign to the general public, or the whole world.

Top 10: Strange comments edition

It's back! Not that anyone noticed it was gone.

Top Ten odd phrases I've uttered in the pursuit of my profession.

1. The goat is ready for his close-up.
2. Cue the seagulls!
3. Can someone fluff the curds again?
4. Just don't let Tom Skerritt fall through the floor this time.
5. Trim his hair another inch and we're good.
6. You can't use the fake scoop for the hero shot.
7. Can you lick the Twinkie a little less suggestively?
8. Let's wipe off the cow snot and do it again.
9. Can we dub in the fart later?
10. I think we've got to cut the Chihuahua.

Shout out to RayO!

Chicken sweaters

I forgot: the other very popular search that brings up my site is about knitting sweaters for chickens. This is what they're searching for:

From the BBC: 

In from the cold: chilly chickens given a winter warmer

How would you feel? One minute you're in a warm battery shed [laying shed] squashed up alongside someone who's pecking out your feathers - the next you're out in an open field with nothing to protect you from the elements. Thank the Lord for chicken jumpers...

Queenie and her three friends are feeling the cold a little more than most this winter.

Recovered from a battery farm in November last year, they were largely without feathers and - away from the artificial heat of the chicken sheds - have been feeling the winter weather.

But owner Brigitte Hawley from Benenden has come up with a clever way of allowing her hens to enjoy the outside world, while being as snug as their more feathered friends. (BBC video clip)

A knitted chicken jumper - or 'Chux Tux' as Brigitte calls it - is the latest must-have item for feather-challenged chickens exploring the brave new world outside of the battery.

Poultry pullies

The 'Tux' can come in different designs depending on which parts of the bird are in need of insulation. Brigitte can also create poultry pullies in a variety of colours.

These hens have all been re-housed by the Battery Hen Welfare Trust, a charity that works with farmers to give a new lease of life to 'spent' battery hens when their egg productivity starts to take a slide.

The good news is that once out in the open - and with the help of a Chux Tux - the hens soon start to re-grow their feathers. Great news for Queenie and for the next reformed battery hen to inherit her winter coat.

How's that for a sneaky way to repeat a post?  Um, Kathi, time to learn to knit . . .

I'll be watching you

I'll let you in on a little secret bloggers share: we know where you live. And how you got here.

There are website traffic counters that, depending on how much you pay, can tell you all kinds of things about your readers. I like to maintain a little mystery in my life, so I don't pay for the Big Brother version. However, I can tell readers' general ISP geographic location and the referring site,  search engine or other webpage.

For some reason (my scintillating, stimulating thoughts?) Google has a little thing for me, and I seem to pop up on a lot of searches. The most popular searches that bring up my blog are:

1. six words to describe your life
2. entrelac felted knitting
3. taming a wild kitten
4. stone soup lessons

These searches constitute about 30% of the traffic to my blog. Obviously I'm not what they're looking for, as they click and move on.

I also get a lot of visitors from Bend Blogs (hi there, Jake!). About half my readers are from the Bend area, though I've gotten visits from the UK, Canada, Ukraine, Nairobi, South Africa, Japan, Australia, Finland, etc.  Boy, I bet they were surprised!

Anyway, don't worry, your identity is hidden for the most part. But it does give you pause about how and where you're being tracked. Someone knows you visit that Kenny Rogers fan club site.

Shooting

One of the favorite parts of my job is shooting. Commercials, that is. I've been involved in tons of commercial productions and they're always challenging, fun, creative and fascinating. And frequently silly and often ridiculous. From brushing blusher on peaches to cueing seagulls with crackers to finessing the curds for a cottage cheese spot, it's always something.

Today I wrangled a goat. That was fun.

The classic line is "never work with animals or children" so of course all my shoots these days include both. Here's a shot of Hans shooting another Melissa with a red-tailed hawk.

Stay tuned to your favorite (Bend) station to see the spot.

A big ol' Central Oregon howdy

A shout-out to a blog-reading newbie friend who took me out for a great birthday lunch today. Yo, Dan! Warning - blog-surfing is addictive. It might even lure you to write your own...

Little tiny pill

OK, this is going to sound pathetic, but really it's not.

I did go out with a friend for a birthday drink and food at my favorite local wine bar. Henry went with us and behaved beautifully, taking care of us and entertaining himself (and many others, as usual). I was kind of reluctant to go as I felt a headache coming on at work, but took an Imitrex on the way there and soldiered through.

By the time we got home, it was clearly a migraine lurking behind the pill that mildly suppressed it. I took another one and lay down "for a little bit" until the pill did its work. Henry again was lovely, making me tea and bringing me his blankie (yes, he still has one - she's now a member of the family).

Three hours later, I woke up to find him watching cartoons and eating cereal at 11 pm. This morning promises to be fun...

I don't know how many of you experience migraines. Imitrex works, slower than you'd like, and pretty much always knocks you out. The key is to take it AS SOON AS YOU FEEL THE MIGRAINE, not like me, who pretty much ignores the signals until it demands full attention and acquiescence. You really need to get out of denial and act immediately if you don't want to end up in the emergency room, painfully reciting all your medications, doctors, insurance info and medical history over and over while an ice pick is being hammered into your temple, waiting around while a meth addict trashes the place, eventually getting a shot that makes you throw up and knocks out the headache while a nurse's assistant feeds your child doughnuts and Pepsi at three in the morning. Not that that's ever happened or anything.

Just saying.

On the brink of the next number

Hmm. I'm writing this on the eve of my fif-somethingthorother birthday, and I can't say I'm feeling that happy about things. It isn't about the aging part, though certainly that isn't tons of fun. I'm finding the wisdom and self-acceptance is worth the wrinkles and bumps. You just have to laugh at it all, really. The cosmic joke.

But anyway, as I've mentioned, I tend to use these (arbitrary) milestones as markers in my life to stop and look back, assess and reflect. This one finds me in a not-so-great mindset tonight.

I'm employed at a job I excel at and love, but my salary has plunged to a 20-year low and I'm not sure I can swing it.
I'm (barely) out of a hurtful dead-end relationship, but I miss his spirit and passion and love terribly.
I'm surrounded by happy busy friends, yet feel more isolated and alone than ever.
My dog is lame and in pain and can't understand why I won't play frisbee.
My pond leaks, my brakes squeal and my son still wets the bed.

(Should I go on?)

But yet. 

Every day I'm thankful for the experiences and luck I've had. Every day I'm grateful for my son, my home, my friends, my family. I take responsibility for the choices I've made and where they've led me.

Non, je ne regrette rien. Me and Edith Piaf.

Wed. cop-out

How's this for a lazy post? Just re-read this one - it says it all for me today.

Almost Blue

Do you ever get in one of those moods?  Sad, nostalgic, moody, adrift?  Anomie, malaise; I could go on...

This post title refers to a great version of a song by Elvis Costello (no, not the album Almost Blue), but nobody says it better (or more) than Van Morrison:

In the afternoon, baby in my room
When the lights are dim way beyond the hill
In the afternoon, baby in my room
When I'm really down get me off the ground
Melancholia, melancholia, melancholia

In the morning time when I go outside
In the morning time it's like that all the while
In the afternoon when I'm in my room
Every single day, it won't go away
Melancholia, melancholia, melancholia

And it's in my heart, when we're apart
And it stops and starts, and it's in my heart
Every single day it's always in my way
When I'm making hay, all I've got to say
Melancholia, melancholia, melancholia

Well it's in my blood and it's in my veins
Here it comes again, when I'm in the rain
In the wind and rain, well the sun don't shine
Well it's always mine, all of the time
Melancholia, melancholia, melancholia

And it's in my life and it's all the time
It doesn't go away when the church bells chime
In the evening time when I drink my wine
In the evening time when it's on my mind
Melancholia, melancholia, melancholia

It's only melancholia
Oh melancholia, oh melancholia, oh melancholia, oh melancholia
Melancholia, melancholia
They call it, call it melancholia, call it melancholia, call it melancholia, call it melancholia
Call it melancholia, melancholia, melancholia, melancholia

OK, we get it, Van! You're seriously bumming!

I'm feeling the same way today.

Working from home

Photo from an old Bulletin article: see the busy ad exec!

I love working from home. I have an efficient, comfortable office, a big-screen monitor and all the latest equipment, a nice view out the window, and my kitchen nearby. I'm pretty disciplined at settling down and working steadily, though with a few little forays on the web now and then. And very so often I get up and put in a load of laundry or sit in the sun for a break. It's cozy and quiet and very pleasant.

Unfortunately, most of my current work is managing others, which you can't really do remotely. Or at least I can't. Henry describes my work as sitting in front of a computer and talking all day, which is pretty accurate. I spend my time meeting with folks, brainstorming ideas, solving problems, answering questions and providing "constructive" advice.  I shuffle a lot of papers too. All of which works best when I'm physically, not just virtually, on site.

So mostly my days of working from home are over, except when Henry is sick or school is closed (like today). Then I can happily settle in and blog be a SOHO* again.

*biz jargon for small office/home office