she's just saying...

Covered in steamed milk and Yeti fur

Quick - what's that a picture of?

A yeti in a snowstorm!

We've got yeti on the brain right now, as Henry decided (on Sunday night) that was what he was going to be on Halloween. Not Friday night or even Saturday, when I had time to go out and round up yeti paraphernalia. But if life weren't like a sit-com, who would read blogs?

Luckily Joanne's Fabrics had perfect hairy white fabric, and on sale! After considering and rejecting the hot glue gun or spray mount, I decided I had to bite the bullet and sew. Now, I hate to use my sewing machine, so this was truly an act of motherly sacrifice. Plus, once it's out and set up, I have some hemming I can do.

Meanwhile, at the same time, Mr. G's fifth-grade class was assigned an independent (read: parent-produced) project which involved a speech, audio visual aids and samples of "Our family's favorite snack." Since Chardonnay and olives were probably inappropriate, we settled on Italian vanilla steamed milk, which Henry gets me to make if he gets up before the expresso machine cools.

So, this morning had me sewing up the last seams of the Yeti costume while steaming hot milk for 32. And of course, I was wearing black velvet head to toe for my annual kitty cat costume. The long white fur shed everywhere, the steamer wand popped off spraying sticky milk everywhere, and I was swearing and yelling and generally starting the day off with a (hairy) splash.

How was your morning?

A social caterpillar

I remember a time when I went out every night. Actually it was many times. I remember thinking if I stopped wanting to go to a club my life would be pretty much over. This was when I was in Boston, or NYC, or maybe LA, where that's what you did. Well, those days are long over, though my life seems not to be. So over, in fact, that I can't remember the last time I went to anything resembling a club. (Well, yes I can but that's another story.)

I don't even go out to dinner or drinks any more. Maybe once a month? That used to be a couple-times-a-week kind of thing. Much of that has to do with being single, as in solo. That may be the second thing I miss most about being in a relationship.

This is how I socialize these days: I stay home. Friends come by, usually one or two at a time. My single and even a few married friends love to hang out and drink wine while I cook, eat a grazing meal of cheese, olives, bread, apples and whatever odd sauce or chutney I have in the fridge, chat, watch a ball game or knit or just read the paper in each other's company. This happens several afternoons and nights a week. I like it because I don't have to go anywhere and I can keep some semblance of control over Henry. They like it for the family energy, the nurturing, the wine and of course my company.

I do get antsy, especially around Friday or Saturday early in the evening, when a change of venue would be welcome. But I love my compound, summer or winter, and I love to entertain casually, so it's all pretty good. This is how I've matured: I now know that going-out opportunities will come again, so I'm content to enjoy what I have right now. But I do have some wild memories of late late nights at dark loud clubs. I'd do it again, for sure.

Wordy Wednesday

UPDATE: All's fine with the eye. It's not completely where it should be yet, so we're in the "watchful waiting" mode. Surgery went well - I was awake the whole time which was freaky. Actually, due to the sleepy meds, I experienced a bunch of waking dreams, of which I only remember one which involved cleaning out my refrigerator.

Anyway, wordy Wed: I don't have time to write a whole post, so thought I'd focus on some misused words that bug me. Today's:

Penultimate.

Some folks like to show off their vocabulary by using this to mean the "most ultimate," which is incorrect and actually causes them to look dumb and pretentious. Penultimate means "next to last." That's all it means.

OK, back to work.

At least I get more intravenous drugs

Rogier van der Weyden's Descent of Christ, Proda Museum

Tuesday it's back to the surgery center for another poke in the eye with a sharp needle.

My eye is still not healing, and after 24 visits to my favorite eye guy in the last two months, we've decided it's time to act.

Warning to the squeamish: gory details in the next paragraph!

[The good news is that the "trap door" created by the first surgery (the trabeculectomy) to relieve the intraocular pressure is still functioning well, the point of the whole exercise. But the conjunctiva surface has never healed completely, and my eye is leaking a bit and is in danger of major infection in the inner eye. So Dr. D is going to haul up the remaining conjunctiva and re-suture.]

It's a quick procedure with shorter recovery and my vision should improve, so no biggie. I don't think I'll need to trigger the casserole parade this time. But it's still a good excuse for a pedicure.

Big Steve Weighs In

I love guest bloggers! Here's a post from MyBigBro:

My current situation, illustrated:

My fantasy career:

My goal:

My past:

Where I am now:

 

Next step:

And finally:

My dream date:

Noxious, part deux

Alright, so maybe I poked a little too much fun at the noxious weed police. Possibly I was a bit flippant about the threat of infestation. Perhaps I eradicated only half-heartedly.

For the fact is, the evil hawkweed has gotten a foothold in my gardens and is steadily spreading its voracious tentacles. It still seems weird to me that I admired a little patch of it in the same spot for years when suddenly the invasion was triggered this spring, right after the weed patrol outed me in the media.

It's all very sci-fi and creepy. Invasion of the Body Snatchers. Or in this case, Invasion of the Woolly Thyme Snatchers.

So this weekend I'll be out once again with the industrial jug of Round-Up, fighting back against noxiousness for the betterment of gardens everywhere and the survival of cultivated plant life as we know it. Just consider me your horticultural super-hero.

Long green leaves: bad.

It's not instant coffee, it's Ready Brew.

Starbucks is possibly the only company that could pull off making instant coffee hip, and I'm not sure even they can do it.

Yes, I had to buy some VIA pods or whatever they're called. They're just so cool, and super-cute! (High praise from someone who makes purchase decisions based on packaging design.) I really wanted to like the coffee too. But it's pretty flat, and I never wanted to finish the cup, which is telling. Either variety.

Starbucks has pumped up the marketing machine for this one, complete with taste test comparisons and re-branding: not instant coffee, ready brew.

"It's made with the highest-quality, ethically sourced 100% arabica beans. The magic is in a proprietary process, all-natural process that we spent years perfecting. We microgrind the beans in a way that preserves all of their essential oils and flavors. No other coffee company takes this step, and it makes all the difference."

Starbucks' stock and earnings have taken a hit in the last two years, and I guess this is their way of offering cheap coffee to get recessionistas to come back to the brand. Or of getting a share of the grocery store instant coffee biz, which in spite of the fact that no one you or I know drinks the stuff, is a huge business. [Correction: my parents drink it. Anybody else know of someone?]

What I don't get is why they're willing to put their own coffee up to a taste test with Via. If Via wins or even ties, isn't that saying that Starbucks brewed coffee isn't worth the extra $2? They set it up to cannibalize their own business. I wish I was a fly on the wall during those planning meetings.

Yes, they're positioning it as a way to get Starbucks while in the office, on a plane, hang-gliding or whatever. But that's a pretty small market and they must be counting on in-home use.

Strikes me that Starbucks loses either way. Instant coffee drinkers (cost-conscious folk) probably won't buy the stuff due to its high price vs. other instants (and don't think those brands are not rolling out their own little pods). And people who think it tastes just like a Starbucks cup may switch cause it's a lot cheaper.

Anybody want to take me up on a bet on this? I say it's pulled within a year.

grammar peeve of the month

I'm hearing this one all the time these days. For some reason it really bugs me, so I will elucidate.

Who versus that

Use who when you are talking about a person and that when you are talking about an object.

Example:

She's the blogger that thinks she's so smart.  Incorrect.

She's the blogger who thinks she's so smart.  Correct.

A fan's dilemma

I've never reposted an entire article before, but rather than re-write this one in my own words, I'm just going to paste it in (most of its) entirety.

Where Should Red Sox Fans' Rooting Interests Lie?

by Kristen Merrill, NESN.com

Red Sox fans face a tough decision this postseason now that our beloved baseball team has been swept out of the playoffs: Who do we root for?

Sure, there's the temptation to take our ball and go home now that our team is out of the race. ... But if we decide to follow this baseball postseason to its conclusion, it's that much more exciting if we have a reason for rooting. There are arguments for and against adopting the cause of all four remaining teams. Some are stronger than others. But as the ALCS and NLCS get under way, it helps to explore our options.

Phillies
Being the defending champs, the Phillies are certainly riding the wave. They took out the surprisingly good Tampa Bay Rays in last year's World Series, thereby -- by some twisted fan logic -- somehow vindicating the Red Sox’ seven-game loss to the Rays in the ALCS.

But aside from that, what ties do Red Sox fans have to the Phillies? The Red Sox played the Phillies only three times this past season, taking two out of three at Citizens Bank Park, but the teams will play each other six times during the 2010 season. While it would seem that most people around baseball like and respect Ryan Howard and Jimmy Rollins (especially in light of Rollins' hilarious commercial), the Phillies player Red Sox fans most identify with is pitcher Pedro Martinez.

Pedro is scheduled to pitch Game 2 at Dodger Stadium, and some of us still have fond memories of the man. Partially, it's because we appreciate great pitching and will forever be thankful for what he did for us. And partially, it's because we know that his greatest years were in Boston, and to witness that was something special. While Philadelphia fans can enjoy him for now, we really feel like he's still ours.

Pros: Pedro
Cons: Pedro and … really nothing else.

Dodgers
Red Sox fans have a more complicated relationship with the Los Angeles Dodgers. There's the whole Manny Ramirez issue, for one, with some of us remaining bitter about the often schizophrenic nature of the slugger's time in Boston. Some Red Sox fans place the blame squarely on the Red Sox organization. Others cite Ramirez's immaturity as the catalyst for the deterioration of the relationship. A World Series in Los Angeles would perhaps invalidate our somewhat irrational belief that Manny needed us just as much as we needed him.

Additionally, Ramirez was suspended for 50 games at the beginning of this season for violating MLB’s performance-enhancing drug policy, and baseball purists have a difficult time rooting for someone who has used PEDs.

On the other hand, the Dodgers are coached by former Yankee manager Joe Torre, who brought Yankees great Don Mattingly to the West Coast as his hitting coach. During his tenure in New York, Torre was perhaps the most respected member of the Yankees organization by Red Sox fans, but we still think of him as a Yankee -- primarily.

Mattingly also told Sports Illustrated that "the country wants" a Dodgers-Yankees World Series, which smacks of the typical New York arrogance and presumptuousness that so many Red Sox fans dislike about the Yankees. Mattingly, in our opinion, will always be a Yankee. More importantly, he's a Yankee without a World Series ring. Red Sox fans would like to keep it that way.

Pros: Former Red Sox favorite Bill Mueller serves as special assistant to GM Ned Colletti, and who doesn't like Bill Mueller?
Cons: Complicated relationships with former Sox slugger Manny Ramirez and former Yankees coaches Joe Torre and Don Mattingly. 

Angels
Frequent playoff foe, the Angels finally broke through this year and swept the Red Sox out of the playoffs. Fifth time’s the charm. Despite some bitter feelings, Red Sox fans can be forgiven for rooting for the Angels by the logic that if the Angels ultimately prevail, the Red Sox will have been beaten by the best team -- therefore lending honor to the Red Sox' loss.

Perhaps more importantly, an Angels World Series win would mean a Yankees loss in the ALCS, and the one thing Red Sox fans like almost as much as a Red Sox win is a Yankees loss.

The Angels also have dedicated their 2009 season to pitcher Nick Adenhart, who died as a result of injuries suffered in a car crash in April of this past year. It was a tragic loss for a team to endure, and winning would be a fitting tribute to the pitcher.

Or course, some of us will revel in the bitter feelings and root for an Angels loss, if for no other reason than the fact that they are the team that unapologetically foisted the horrendous Rally Monkey on an undeserving public.

Pros: Beaten by the best, Nick Adenhart tribute, Yankees loss
Cons: Rally Monkey

Yankees
Believe it or not, some Red Sox fans might actually cheer for a Yankees victory. Whether it's because a Yankees triumph would swing the balance of power back to the AL East, or because we have friends or family who are Yankees fans and want to see them happy, it's likely to be a halfhearted rooting interest. I very much doubt Yankees fans would do the same, if the situation were reversed.

Of course, they're the Yankees. Cheering for their demise is always more fun.

Pros: AL East power
Cons: Insufferable Yankee fans and the fact that we could no longer taunt them about their World Series drought. Also the traitorous and dirty feeling of rooting for the enemy.

So there it is, a team-by-team breakdown. Personal experience leads me to believe that most Red Sox fans -- if they haven't already abandoned Fenway for Foxborough -- will be halfheartedly cheering the Angels to victory. In a postseason without a clear-cut front-runner, it seems like the lesser of several evils.

Let's just hope the Rally Monkey didn't make the playoff roster.

About the Author

Kristen Merrill writes daily for NESN.com and is the author of the blog Basegirl.

Friday chicken frylet

Ever have one of those mornings?

Friday frylets are those tasty left-over morsels at the bottom of the french fry bag. Metaphorically.

We wuz skunked.

My dog Flash is getting older, as are we all.  And I blame his senior bladder for how our house smells these days. No, he didn't have an accident, or not the kind you're thinking of. But let me just say you may not want to come visit for awhile.

He now needs to go out in the middle of the night occasionally to do his thing as we like to call it. (Puppies for Dummies advised that you repeat a certain phrase while your puppy is potty-training, so he'll link that to the urge and go on command. It worked on this OCD border collie.)

He wakes me very sweetly, first with a scratch or two at the door, then with a little "woof" until I get the message and get up. So last Thursday night he went out at about 1:30 am while I blearily waited by the door. There was some barking, then we were suddenly enveloped in that burnt-rubber, sulfurous, gassy odor that is pure skunk. Flash came trotting back as if nothing happened and tried to get back in my room. He honestly didn't smell or look like he'd been skunked or maybe it was middle-of-the-night wishful thinking on my part, but we both went back to bed. The next morning it was clear that either he or the house or both were on the receiving end of Mephitis mephitis.

I think Flash must have ducked out of the way or the skunk was a long way off, 'cause he wasn't as bad as I've experienced with past dogs. However, I knew I had to deal with it when the next morning I went to work and smelled skunky all day. On my clothes, just from hanging overnight in a closet in the same house as a smelly dog! That stuff is a bio-weapon that could take down a subway train. (Hmmm - screenplay idea?) Anyway.

I took him to the Dogromat on Saturday, which I love for the name if nothing else, and I brushed and sudsed and conditioned and sprayed and then I washed the dog. [Do I need to point out when I make a joke, or is it obvious? Just wondering.] He came home all fluffy and soft but still pretty odorous.

Even though it's freezing already, we've been opening the doors to air out the house and burning smelly finely-scented candles. Nothing seems to help except getting used to it. Then you go outside to get the mail or take out the garbage and it hits you again like the first time when you come back in.

I cooked a lot this weekend, putting up tomato sauce, apple chutney, etc. in some atavistic winter burrowing ritual. Mmmm. Nothing says home like the oddly-not-unpleasant mix of skunk, garlic and onions. Sure you don't want to come over?

Party like it's April 15th

Anybody out there not filed their 2008 taxes yet? Just me? And I'm getting a refund!

Well, the deadline for those extensions is this Thursday. And since my taxes are going out tomorrow, I'm AHEAD of schedule. Don't call me a procrastinator!

To be honest, I'm really a highly skilled procrastinator. I somehow can sense the exact minute when I have to start a project in order to finish right before (or on) the deadline. And then and only then do I buckle down. Often I'll actually start it early, then let it slide til the bell goes off in my head that says FINISH NOW. Is it that I need the adrenaline rush of pressure to motivate me, or am I just a slacker? Dunno, but it's unlikely I'll change the habit at this point.

My mother blames it all on the infamous Frog Pages of second grade, which I didn't finish and the teacher let slide or something. Frankly, I can't remember, but it made an impression on her that I hear about to this day. "It all started with the Frog Pages!" is the familiar refrain.

What can I say? It's been working for me ever since.

This is not from my frog pages, but go ahead and color it if you wish.

No joy left in Mudville

Baseball's dead to me. Over, kaput, finis. The Boston Red Sox were swept by the Los Angeles Angels (formerly of Anaheim but now cashing in on LA glamour) in three games for the American League Divisional Playoff series, round one. 

I don't know how anyone can say that baseball is boring. It's a suspense film agonizing in its tension. I knit furiously between standing up and pacing and shouting at the screen.

Today was a killer: the Bosox well ahead into the ninth, ONE STRIKE away from winning and going on to the next do-or-die game, Papelbon giving up three runs, Angels going up 7-6, my man Pedroia making the last out. Papelbon had not been charged with a run in 26 postseason innings entering the game, but he finally let me down. I don't envy his winter with the Red Sox Nation - not the most forgiving bunch.

I'm working through denial, anger, depression, bargaining; not yet at acceptance. Summer ended very abruptly here in Bend: it's cold, we had snow and frost, and the heady days of baseball are gone. The season's over (except for all those other teams battling it out for something -- but who cares?) and it's time to start counting the months and days til spring training. March is only 141 days away.

"Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright,
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing, and little children shout;
But there is no joy in Mudville — mighty Casey has struck out."

-Casey at the Bat, 1888

Step away from the knitting needles. Please.

Clearly, an ongoing challenge for knitting magazines is coming up with 10-12 new patterns every month, year after year. Vogue Knitting is the queen of this creativity exercise, with its very fashion-forward, technically challenging designs. They just announced a web sale on all their patterns, so I spent some valuable work time (kidding!) perusing the 834 projects. There were some very beautiful pieces and some weird and bizarre items as well, ones that cause you to stop and wonder what they were smoking up there in their skyscraper high above Manhattan.

There were a handful that literally took my breath away, but not in a good way. Shockingly, monstrously, unbelievably freakish. So of course I immediately thought of you, my readers, knowing how much you'd want them agree.

So here they are: the winners of the Weirdest Vogue Knitting Patterns ever. I'll start with the slightly strange and move up to the obscene.

Second runner-up: Here's one I can possibly imagine someone knitting if they just bought their first car, maybe a cute little VW bug. I suppose a Juno-kind-of-teen could pull this off:  steering wheel cover and fuzzy dice.

 

First runner-up: moving on but staying in the accessory category: egg cozies in the form of tiny sweaters.

Maybe a little old lady in England could go there, but otherwise, those who knit these should probably be institutionalized for their own welfare.

Third place: This was a tough one as so many deserved it, but I gotta go with the lampshade. Don't knit this in acrylic. 

Second place: I could see these popping up at a junior high rodeo somewhere in Oklahoma, or maybe it's the hat.

 Love the heart on the back pocket!

And finally [cue drumroll], the FIRST PLACE winner, the item that wins overall for style, wearability, the kicky name and even how the totally hot model works it:

...

...

...

...

...

The Men's Brimster Beanie. Only $2.99 for the pattern. I'm thinking Christmas list ...

Sweater building

A knitting update: the big tweedy cabled jacket project. Luckily for the sweater, I was recuperating from eye surgery last month so was able to get back to it and accomplish huge chunks of knitting; or who knows if when I would have picked it up again.

It's now in the pre-final stages, in that the pieces are all knit up. All that remains is to seam the shoulders, pick up stitches and knit the collar, pick up more stitches and knit both front button bands, weave in all ends, sew the whole thing together, add buttons and wet block it. I'm really close! I can feel it! But at least I no longer have endless yards of stockinette to slog through.

I know, I know, it's all about the process of knitting. However, to paraphrase a boating saying: the best days of knitting a sweater are the day you start it and the day you finish it.

Here are all the pieces that turn into a sweater.You can't see the beautiful color, but you get the idea.

Soon I hope to be posting a photo of it with me wearing. All my knitting gift recipients had better hope so too, as I can't get to Christmas knitting until this is snuggled on my neck, vs. hanging around it.

[Like an albatross, get it??  Oh, never mind.]

It's all green and white around here

the scene on Sunday

Silly high desert weather, it's back to 75 degrees this weekend. Only two weeks ago we hit 95 and I had the a.c. on.

It's odd driving around town with green trees and snow drifts. Unfortunately for the trees, they hadn't started to drop their leaves (they haven't even turned color yet) so the snow got caught in the branches and broke a lot of beautiful old limbs. Now the question for a single homeowner is what to do with the remains.

My options:

1. Hire the tree guy to come with his chipper and do the "Fargo" thing,
2. Spend back-breaking hours with my tiny little saw, cutting the branches to take to the dump,
3. Call one of my long-suffering neighbors and ask them to help out the hapless spinster, again,
4. Wait until dark, drag the branches down to the park and let the city deal with them,
5. Borrow a chainsaw.

#1 costs money, which rules that out. #2 would probably land me back at the eye doc's, getting another eye leak sewn up. Dragging half a tree six blocks (#4)is probably impractical, as well as illegal. #5, though fitting our motto "Girls can do anything!" would end up the most spendy, what with the emergency room visit, lost work time, the prosthetic and all. So it's #3 again. Luckily they're all Christian so they have to help, right?

Al Gore is a big fat liar

I had to do that thing with today's paper like kidnappers do in ransom photos so those of you outside Central Oregon would believe me.

Autumn is for sissies, I guess.

I'm really looking forward to flag football tonight at 7 pm.

Fri. Frylet: meta pie chart