she's just saying...

How you know you live in a ski town

Emergency! Emergency!  Should we call the police? The sheriff? 

No, wait! Let's check the conditions!

Once a challenge: now routine.

Remember this post? I was so proud of my competent-ness.

My soccer-mom cream Subaru Outback station wagon's headlight was out. (This, and the second favorite forest green color, is the official car of the Bend School District. Or should be.) Neighbor X pointed this out and offered to help me change it. Since I am Independent Woman, I decided I would tackle it myself.

Remembering my mantra (one of them): "Girls can do anything," I drove to the auto parts store, had that momentary gut-flutter walking in the door (male-domination shopping anxiety), and strode purposefully over to the "Headlights" section. I had run through the lights in the parking lot to make sure I knew which one was out and had studied the manual, memorizing the part number before entering the testosterone zone. My goal was not to go up to the counter first and play the part of the helpless female asking for guidance from a patronizing clerk who gets to flex his superiority muscles. If you're a do-it-yourself female, you know what I'm talking about.

I found the part number easily, briefly negotiated the various brands and qualities of headlight, and grabbed the most techno-contempo package. Took it up to the counter where a very nice gentle biker-type helped me. I asked casually if this was something I could fix myself and added: "I'm pretty handy." He replied, "Well, if you're handy, it should be easy." We decided I should change out both at the same time as the brand I chose was "better than your stock bulb." (I need all the light I can get these days.) I paid and left, wondering if I actually was pretty handy, and sort of surprised I described myself that way.

Got home, mixed up a Bloody Mary for support (it's Sunday afternoon!) and studied the manual. Incomprehensible diagrams as usual. I popped the hood, fumbled around and figured it all out eventually. Changed out the bulbs and added anti-freeze for good measure. Checked that they worked, closed the hood and basked in that rush of pride, strength and satisfaction that comes whenever I accomplish a "guy's job."

Whoo hoo! I came back inside, turned on the Seahawks game and picked up my knitting, repeating under my breath: "I'm pretty handy," and feeling it.

-------------------------------------------

Well. last week the same lightbulb burned out and I had to replace it again. No longer a challenge to master; now another routine chore ...

Update for all concerned readers: NO, I didn't touch the bulb! Does it look like I'm touching the bulb???

And yes, I do need a manicure - thank you for noticing.

Next: I replace the brake pads! (just kidding)

I admit: I'm a fanboy

Henry and I saw Avatar 3D yesterday, and I can't stop thinking about it.

The story is not really the point: it's your usual sci-fi evil earth corporation plundering beautiful virgin planet mixed with boy-meets-alien in a Lord of the Rings New Zealand forest. We inherently know the story arc and resolution, having seen this play out a hundred times in a hundred different time periods. James Cameron is not a great writer: that's not where his genius lies.

It's the cumulative impact of the filmmaker's vision, imagination and visual effects: breathtaking, mind-blowing, spellbinding. Think of when you saw  2001: Space Odyssey, or Star Wars (the very first one): suddenly there's a whole new way of telling a story with film. 

Yes, the blue aliens are a little goofy, the evil US military is still evil, the acting is non-nuanced and the dialogue is corny. Amazingly, it's easy to forgive all that, because the glowing forest, the floating mountains, the lithe creatures, the movement, the luminescence, the 3-dimensionality is frankly astounding. It's a 2 1/2 hour movie and I never wanted it to end. 

(The marketing is state-of-the-corporate-art, of course: twitter feeds, app downloads, interactive websites for the McDonald's toys, etc. What do you expect for a $300-$500 million budget [depending on who's counting]? And don't get me started on the morality (um, immorality) of spending half a billion on a piece of celluloid when so many souls could be saved with that amount. The reality is that no one is about to say "Hey, instead of making this movie, let's send the money to Unicef!" That's a topic for another more socially-responsible blog.)

James Cameron,Steven Spielberg, Jeffrey Katzenberg: all are committing to Digital 3D for their upcoming movies. It is the way image-making is moving, whether through the movie screen,  home TV or computers. Story-telling is still about the story, at its heart, regardless of the tricks. But this movie paints a world unlike one you've ever imagined, and that is its story.

Go see Avatar in 3D and tell me what you think.

Taa-daa! The finished objays

Now that all the recipients have opened their gifts (except BigBro), I can reveal the results of my knitting marathon (except BigBro's).

First: felted clogs:

Next, many headbands ("Calorimetry" for my Knitty and Ravelry buds):

The ever-popular knitted mitts:

an apple cozy (THIS WAS BY REQUEST)

and a little gray mouse.

Gee, it seemed like I made a lot more than that. Of course, this doesn't show the items that were ripped out, abandoned, half done or just begun. Now to get to them... (January birthdays coming)

PS: the answer to this riddle can be found in the first photo.

Instant tree

Seriously, I did not mean to offend with that last card. It's a blog! It's supposed to be rude and irreverent! (Isn't it?) Anyway, back to appropriateness.

Christmas greetings! Naughty or nice?

As I mentioned, I don't send Christmas cards. Or, I do send them, just virtually: a blog post to all!

First, the family-friendly card:

  My Central Oregon readers will note that this is a Western-Oregon-centric card. The Bend version would have to include cyclists, burning buttes and roundabouts.

For the rest of you (you know who you are),

Apologies to my Christian readers. Do I even have any?
(Don't answer. Rhetorical. Really.)

How many screens does it take

to run a business?

This is my friend Brian. The two monitors on the left are Mac and the other two PC, all run from one keyboard and mouse.

Notice he's texting from his phone in the middle of all this.

I was pretty impressed. A great guy and a great company.*

*No promotional consideration was paid for this endorsement, except lunch.

"You like me. Right now, you like me." *

*Actual transcript of Sally Fields' 1985 Oscar acceptance speech.

Tonight I went to a Christmas event for the Board I'm on. While I was mingling, a young elected official who I admire began to praise my blog to all around us. I was so surprised -- I didn't know she knew of it, and she clearly was a frequent reader. She said she felt like a part of my life. I was so pleased, and frankly stunned.

[She also told me this great story about the Baked Goods Christmas Tree she won but that's another post.]

I know some of my regular readers: there's the blog writing crowd (linked over there on the right), some coworkers and my family, but who else?  I have no idea. (Sorry, but I don't count the chicken-sweater seekers. They don't care about me -- they just want poultry patterns.)

It's such a self-indulgent exercise, writing a personal blog. I have nothing much to talk about except my ever-fascinating self. I keep myself entertained, but I'm always so taken aback when I hear from others who enjoy it. That truly feels like a gift from the universe. 

So here's to you, known and hidden readers. For you I search for new topics, I edit my words carefully, I sit down and write even when I have nothing to say. I don't know how long this blog will continue (I'm beginning to bore myself, frankly), but as long as you're out there, I'll keep trying. Kisses and hugs, love you, mean it and all that. Hope you had a Happy Hanukkah. (We'll discuss Christmas later)

Soft ball and hard crack

Q: What do those phrases stand for?

A:  Stages of sugar in candy-making. It's what the mixture does when dropped into cold water. If you're new at it, or not, it definitely helps to have a candy thermometer.

I like to make candy -- it's an adventure. I especially love to make real fudge so I can eat it. NOT the recipe with marshmallow fluff: the real candy-thermometer fudge. It's a messy process and a little tricky, as it crystallizes easily and then you get that gritty mouthfeel - sign of an amateur candymaker.

I may or may not make fudge this year. However, every year I do make nut brittle for my dad. It's like peanut brittle but with cashews, hazelnuts, pecans, brazil nuts, etc. instead. Very decadent. And murder on the fillings.

Here are some pics of Nut Brittle in the making. Recipe available upon request (I'm too sleepy to post it right now)

The set up:

Approaching the hard crack stage (300 degrees)

You stretch it while it's still hot (it's not as dark as it looks here)

Done. Yum.

The more things don't change, the more they stay the same

On knitting deadline right now, so I'm going to repost from last year. Same story, different projects:

Must. Knit.

First posted Dec. 15, 2008:

I decided this year to make ALL my Christmas presents (with the exception of the necessary plastic electronic junk I'm giving Henry). It's fun, actually - I feel I'm really making Christmas happen instead of buying it. It's a little weird not to be shopping right now, but it's also pretty cool.

The present-finishing countdown has begun in earnest. I have three projects left to complete, so I'm juggling them based on shipping dates, how late I can knit on Christmas Eve, who I won't see til after Christmas (gaining a precious day or two), and so forth, bouncing back and forth between projects. I'm going to be knitting morning, lunchtime and night to accomplish it all. Barring a possible carpal tunnel attack, I should be in good shape.

editor's note: HA.

Friday frylet: We're melting!

Hundreds gather to protest global warming

 

What's going on in this photo?

Hint: I'm not mashing potatoes.

Answer to be revealed after Christmas...

Nouvelle plastic

Scene: The upscale restaurant of an unnamed Portland hotel. Three women having lunch. Chatting, laughing, eating. One of the women has the "chicken noodle soup": a bowl of broth, two petite chicken roulades and a large vegetable ravioli on the bottom. Very nouvelle.

Suddenly: "Is this food?" the woman asks, taking a ring of plastic out of her mouth and examining it, possibly mistaking it for cellophane noodles.

It was not.

After much hilarity, discussion and negotiations with the staff, the soup charge is removed and a dessert is provided.

Final question, when the bill is presented: "Do you take plastic?"

Waitress answers: "No, we only serve it." Ba-dum-bump.

The soup

The object in question

 

You don't need to card me. Really!

As a single mom with a full-time job, some things just have to go.

(Note: this is a terrific excuse to get out of just about anything. Who would question it?)

For me, one of those things is Christmas cards. I know it's wonderful to send (and receive) a personal holiday greeting, but it's just not going to happen from this house. I don't even send my garbage bill by mail -- either it's on-line or it doesn't get paid.

Since my primary means of communication with my friends is through this blog or facebook (even those who live a few blocks away), it follows that those are the vehicles I'll use for my Christmas messages. It's not called social media for nothing.

When I was a girl, I remember my father sitting in his study every December, smoking his pipe and working on our Christmas card list. Adding those folks who sent us one the year before, removing long-forgotten acquaintances, typing it all out on his (now collectible) manual typewriter. It was a responsibility taken seriously.

As a result of course, I now carry guilt about not sending out cards myself. For many years, I bought cards with all good intentions, and maybe sent out 4 or 5, but one of the things that come with getting old is the wisdom of knowing yourself, so I no longer attempt the effort.

So, though I love getting your cards, I really don't mind if you take me off your list. It lessens the pangs of regret I feel around the mailbox this time of year. Not to mention being more environmentally-friendly: another quite useful justification for not doing things.

Just some of the cards you won't be getting from me...

I just got a lot more creative

I use Flickr to store and post my photos. Within Flickr there's an editing app called Picnik. It's a terrific, flexible editor that quickly crops, resizes, corrects color, red eye, exposure, etc.

Yesterday I clicked on another tab in Picnik titled "create." That function allows you to add text and images and effects to photos. So to play with my pictures, I don't have to open an involved photo editing program - it's all in one place, for free.

For example, it can do this:

Be afraid. Be very afraid.

The Naked Tree

Well, we hauled in the tree finally. We held a vote and it was 2-0 against walking down the three blocks to the tree lot and carrying our tree home like we did last year. Hey, it's 4 below! So we wimped out and drove.

The same guy was there selling trees, which pleased Henry who added him to our Christmas tradition narrative. Henry had a tree picked out from driving by the lot every day on the school bus, but it turned out to be a Noble costing $50. So we went to the rear of the lot and got a Doug fir for $25.

It's so cold that the tree was all closed up and let off a brisk cold draft once we got it home and put up. It's now opening up and shedding wildly. It smells really weird - Henry said it's like an orange, and to me it's a little like a sulfurous natural gas smell. The primary reason I get a tree is for the wonderfully evocative scent, so this is a major bummer so far. Hopefully it will get in line and smell the way it's supposed to.

I love to have a tree in the house. First without lights - just a natural tree there in the corner. Then with the lights on, then all the ornaments. I love to sit in the dark next to the lit tree, sipping eggnog with something in it and enjoying the soft glow.

The lighting and trimming are scheduled for this weekend. This tree is so bushy and dense that it might be hard to decorate. The ornaments will look like they're stuck to it with velcro. Maybe I'll just leave it au naturale this year. More time to knit! If you look closely you can see the cats in their customary position each time we get a Christmas tree. Not sure what they're waiting for but they sit there all day...

This is nothing. I've hitchhiked at 50 below...

This morning our thermometer read -9. That's minus nine. I don't recall seeing -9 before, except in Fairbanks, Alaska, where I lived for several years an eon ago.

Things get weird at negative temps. We used to have to plug the car in up there. Every parking spot had an outlet and you'd plug the car in when you did errands, and overnight in the garage. Of course this led to a number of incidents when I'd back out of the garage and forget to unplug the car first. Went through a number of power cords that winter.

Speaking of the car, that's where things were weirdest. Once my steering wheel cracked in my hands. Didn't break, but I drove with a few cracks in it all year. And rubber does freeze. The car tires would freeze overnight and when you started driving in the morning, it would sound like you had four flat tires until they heated up enough to be round again.

The worst were the white-outs. These weren't formed by any weather pattern, but by frozen exhaust lingering on the road. Especially as many folk wouldn't turn their cars off when they ran into the convenience store - they'd keep them running. So the vapor in the exhaust would freeze and you couldn't see a thing. They'd actually report them on the radio like traffic jams. "There's a whiteout on mile 6 of Chena Road" etc.

My ex-hubby and I had two dogs - more like curs, really. One had the habit of stealing objects in the neighborhood and bringing them home to the yard. The subsequent snows would freeze everything and come spring, it was like a stratified archeological dig as things would begin to appear under the snow. Hairbrushes, an alarm clock, a huge moose foreleg - god knows where he'd find these things.

The paperboy delivered on a snowmobile, as the streets would glaciate and not melt all winter (yes that's a verb). My husband would put on red flannel one-piece long johns (with the flap in the back) and essentially not take them off til May. And back then many people didn't have cars, or cars that ran at negative temps. So hitchhiking around town was pretty common. We were young hippies and thought it was all cool. Unless they were holding an ax, you pretty much picked up hitchhikers at 50 below.

As if we didn't feel isolated enough, we were actually a day behind the lower 48 as far as TV news went. You'd get the TV news one day late. I'm not kidding. They'd fly the tape up to Fairbanks overnight and play it the next day. Walter Cronkite was still a newsman back then. Whenever Walter would say: "And that's the way it is, December 8th," you'd have to correct him.

The whole Alaska experience was pretty interesting. And the Northern Lights were truly trippy. I know this all makes me sound like some old sourdough codger, but I guess that's what I am.

There's a hot tub out here somewhere...

Nativity

OMG. Thank you, Kathi D, for pointing out this blog.

This is my favorite pic so far...

Nativity

Yet another blog that's much funnier than mine

There's no end to them, really.

The Leila Texts

Go! Enjoy! You're welcome!

(This counts as a Friday frylet, btw.)