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No, that's not a hand puppet, that's a baby porky! Spring is here and the porcupines are popping. Thistle and Honeysuckle had their second baby recently, and it's a cutey. There's more info here and the porcupette will be making appearances in June. (Yes, I'm marketing the Museum. It's what I do.)
MyBigSis just pointed out that my blog has racked up 40,000 hits.
Of course, as ad folk know, this is a completely specious number (love that word). Any time some misguided soul clicks on a search result for flamenco dancers, chicken knitting, neosporin, biathlete knitters or yeti costumes and ends up on my page it counts as a visit. Even when they instantly leave, having realized that this blog is completely irrelevant for their needs. I do hate disappointing them all. Except for the sock fetish searchers who I'd frankly rather not have hanging around here.
It could be 40,000 different people visiting me once, or 20,000 people and a crazed stalker - I'm not interested enough to actually pay for traffic analysis. I do have a little (free) tracker that can sometimes identify where a particular viewer lives, and it says that Number 40,000 lives in Madison, Wisconsin and came here directly, i.e. typed in my blog address. Who are you, Madison, Wisconsin? I'd love to know. There may even be an apple sweater (not chicken, sorry) in it for you.
I think this means "Congratulations, you've reached 40,000 hits." Or she could be complaining about having to wear those big red bowling balls on her head.
The line for autographs starts at the right.
PS: That's Jen's girl, Chloe, with the Mona Lisa smile in the back.
This is not my foot, sock or photo.
Wow, a knitting post. I'm averaging about one a month these days so I can still call this a knitting blog in certain circles and get away with it.
I'm fascinated with the intricacies and hierarchies of obscure niche interests. Perusing hobby magazines and online forums allows a peek* into the levels of controversy among weird interest groups. (MyBigBro is maybe a little too into this stuff, but I admire his enthusiasms.)
The knitting world contains these quirky stratifications as well. As I've noted before, right now socks are the hip thing. There's a bit of controversy, archness and even snobbery around sock knitting. There are endless discussions about heels, toes, gussets, sizing, yarn and even basic sock design on Ravelry, the facebook for knitters. (The site is so much more than that, but I've covered that before.)
There is a whole subset of sockists, led by a designer named Cat Bordhi, who play with sockitecture, the basic structure of the sock. (Stay with me here.) We're talking unusual directions, higher geometry and re-imagining the sock as we know it. Grabbing conventional sock knitting by the heel, really.
Being the trend-slave that I am, I've dipped my toe into the sock swirl as well. (I'm trying hard not to use a lot of foot puns in this post, but a few tip-toe in.) The latest craze is a sock pattern called Skew. As the designer writes, "Skew takes the concept of the bias design element to a new extreme by turning the entire architecture of the sock, including the heel, on the diagonal."
If you're interested in learning more, and I know you are, check out the description and pattern. It will blow your tiny sock mind.
*peek, as opposed to pique and peak. That's a grammar-rant post for another day.
The Comment for a Cozy Contest continues. Enter in the post below.
Meanwhile, a classic from the sparkling day Sunday. Of course, today: snow.
No, he wasn't stuck. Though it would make for a good Bulletin article.
I decided when I hit 90, I'm going to stop blogging. I'm sure by then we won't be typing anymore, just dictating or mind-melding or whatever new technology the future brings.
I blew past my blogiversary 11 days ago (April 8, a day that will live in infamy). I guess as Monkey said, it's not quite as exciting anymore. Or, to put a more upbeat spin on it, it's now such a part of my daily life that I don't think about it as a milestone to celebrate.
I want to thank y'all for reading, commenting, linking, reposting, lurking and all the other things you do to show your interest in my effort. I always write with you guys in mind, challenging me to keep it funny, light, thoughtful, goofy, ridiculous and always ENTERTAINING. You're insatiable, really. The pressure! Anyway, thanks.
So, in the long tradition of blogiversaries, I'm offering another contest to the faithful. All you have to do is comment on this post, be that lucky slip of paper in the hat and wait for your prize. Every comment gets a chance and FIRST TIME commenters get two chances each. And Kathi D wins a prize for most prolific commenter, just because.
And the prize?
An absolutely adorable apple jacket! Keep those Cortlands cozy in their very own snuggly sweater.
I'm giving away two of these babies so ping me back with a cogent comment and cross your fingers.
Drawing will take place Friday night after a round of gimlets. As the lama says, you must be present to win.
PS: Facebook comments don't count toward a prize...
Whew. Busy weekend doing nothing. A new friend came to visit - more on that to come if the stars align. Meanwhile, Henry keeps growing. And eating. Here's this morning's order:
Courses from the foreground back:
Buttermilk biscuit with country sausage gravy (notice the apple was not touched),
Two eggs sunny-side up with two pieces of bacon
Topped off by a huge pancake, with a scoop of butter and half cup of syrup.
The waiter placed it all in front of him and declared: "Mission: Eat!"
And he did. He started slowing down by the second egg and the last half of the pancake, but since that one pancake equaled three normal ones, we decided it was Mission Accomplished.
There! That's not so hard, is it? We're going to get along just fine!"I always pictured myself with a taller, thinner girl" or "I hope I meet someone just like you, only younger."
As well as Twinkies, tampons, farting dolls, soup mixes, cottage cheese, cheap wine and drywall corners, I used to market housing developments, or as we called them, "neighborhoods."
My former housemate, Mark, and I both worked for a local home builder. (Not "House," but Home. Always.) I would lure them in with advertising ("traffic generation") and he would sell them a house ("conversion"). We became well-versed in the particular vocabulary niche of home sales. Phrases like nook: a corner with a desk, or butler's pantry: a hallway with cupboards. (There are so many more; feel free to share your favorites with us in the comments.)
I particularly loved the realtor phrase: "Master on the Main." This is not actually an archaic British Naval Fleet title but refers to the bedroom being at ground level. Such a flight of poetry, really, or maybe it's just me.
Anyway, this post is not about any of that particularly, it's about this sign that I noticed the other day in one of these upscale "communities." It seems to be a convoluted solution to avoid the otherwise tacky and depressing phrase DEAD END. It also has that curious construction often used by those for whom English is not their native tongue, but I dunno. I saw it and immediately thought of you, dear readers, knowing you'd appreciate it as I did.
"The Street Not Thru Kids": doesn't have quite the same ring, really.
Get a room! But not my room.
Muffin and Bob, caught in the act. It's an abusive relationship, though. Reciprocally.
"Winds from the east... Mist comin' in... Like something's a brewin', about to begin... Can't put me finger on what lies in store... But I feel what's to 'appen, all 'appened before..."
- Mary Poppins, 1964
Around here, people like to talk about their "quiver" of skis and snowboards.
I have a quiver of knitting needles.
There are at least four different needle attributes: kinds, materials, sizes and lengths. The most usual choices are:
Since I'm only working at a fifth-grade math, I won't do the calculations to come up with the number of permutations. (Next year: sixth grade.) Also, not all parameters are available in all needles, but you get the point, or double-point. (knitting joke!)
Anyway, right now I'm knitting socks on size 1's. (Or actually 1.5's, due to some confusion between metric and non-). They're pretty skinny. I feel quite dainty and pretty using the little needles - much more refined. The downside to these is that you knit and knit and knit and you've maybe gone an inch over an hour. In contrast to the fat boys, (35's in the shot below) two rows is an inch.
Ah well, it's the process, not the product, right? So I keep telling myself, while I wield these little toothpicks with fine thread-like yarn.
In certain authoritative regimes when citizens feel wronged by the authorities their only recourse is to speak out publicly, in the hopes that others will take up the cause. This is my polemic about Mr. Bill, the Bus Driver.
It's no secret that Henry has trouble making the bus in the morning. Many days see him running down the block, backpack and coat flying, racing to catch the bus while the kids cheer him on. He usually manages to reach the door just before the driver pulls away. Today was no different, though this morning the bus driver wouldn’t let him on. He drove down the next block, stopped at the stop sign where he could have opened the door, but didn’t. The bus, chased by Henry, then crossed busy 14th St. and headed off. Henry, through some mad racing skillz, made it to the next stop where the bus driver just shook his head and drove on. The kids on the bus were shouting and trying to get the driver to stop. They drove/ran another hundred yards, when the bus driver pulled ahead and left Henry in his exhaust. Exhausted Henry was, and returned home defeated and in tears.
The driver’s behavior was ridiculous, unsafe, and downright cruel. This driver is said to have a mean streak, evidenced by the neighborhood kids complaining, boycotting the bus, and even crying about having to ride it (I won’t name victims’ names here). I’d had enough, called the Bus Barn to register my concern, and got no satisfaction. I was lectured about Henry getting to the bus on time and how this driver says the kids love him. “He always shows me things the kids give him, nice notes and stuff,” his supervisor said. (Hmmm. Why has he felt he has to produce evidence? Is it because there have been other complaints?) I asked for his name in order to follow up further, and was told it was Bill. “Bill what?” I asked. “We don’t give out their last names.” Reminds me when the police covered their badges during the Watts riots. But I tend to be dramatic.
I believe in the public school bus system. Riding the bus is an important part of public school. It teaches socialization and allows every child access to school whether their parents can drive them or not, and is part of our tax support. Plus, I hate to join the endless morning line of SUVs with moms on cellphones, coffee in one hand, idling in front of the school drop-off zone, coddling their privileged kids who don’t want to ride the bus. (Why, yes, I do have strong feelings about that.) Not to mention it makes me late for work.
We were hoping to just get through the end of the school year and leave Mr. Bill behind, but it turns out that he’ll be Henry’s driver in middle school as well. Luckily, middle school is only a mile and a half away, so Henry can ride his bike. We’ll get studded snow wheels for the winter.
Edited to add: I know, Henry has to learn to get to the bus on time and that there are consequences to his poor decisions. I'm not condoning the bus driver "enabling" his being late. Henry will learn from this incident, but unfortunately he'll also learn that adults can be cruel.
I know I do, 'cause it's Friday!
Why I can't fold my laundry:
OK, another random wacky meme, this one from a few Facebook pals. I'm only doing this because I want a certain someone else to answer as well. Those who wish to play can copy/paste into an email or Facebook note. C'mon, try it! It's fun! Or at least it's a good way to waste five minutes at work.
"You can ONLY answer Yes or No.
You are NOT ALLOWED to explain ANYTHING unless someone asks, and believe me, the temptation to explain some of these will be overwhelming. Nothing is exactly as it seems.
Tag your friends, etc. etc."
Kissed any one of your Facebook friends? -- YesIn September I posted a bit about the local newsrag, the Bulletin, and its ceaseless coverage of happy (and not so) pet news on the front page above the fold.
In the hubbub of Easter, I overlooked another high-profile local news story: Cat in Tree. This story got two days of front page headlines: once about said Cat In Tree, then a follow-up: Cat Gets Out Of Tree.
So, I thought I'd compile a list of the top ten Animal News items covered on the front pages of the Bend Bulletin in the last couple of years, as follows, in reverse chronological order. This list only includes Real News stories, not any articles from the weekly Pets section, the "Meet My Pet" feature, the lost animals column, the Best Pet Photo contest, etc.
They are:
Behold: The Muffin and Egg Maker!
![IMG_3527[1]](..\..\..\.a\6a00e55239d308883401347faa9e36970c-pi.jpg)
It toasts the English muffin AND cooks the egg and even heats a sausage patty ALL AT THE SAME TIME. Brilliant, yes? Whoever invented this is a genius. I've even experimented with adding a little cheese to the egg cup and it works great. Instant egg mcmuffin!
This will radically improve our mornings and Henry's breakfast diet, which will help him concentrate better in school thus getting higher grades, getting accepted to a top school and earning the means to support his dear old mother in her impending old age. Wow. All from a little toaster. Isn't America great?!?
(For family unity I should note that the original toaster idea came from Dr. Sister who sent one to Steve who then sent another one to us. Thank you, family!)
Um, no, not Easter. I like it and all, the bunnies, the chocolate, the jelly beans, the Easter dresses. In fact, here's me in an adorable Easter outfit from the distant past:
Though apparently I'm indicating to my parents that my purse is empty. Always subtle, that's me.
Where were we? Oh yes, the most happiest day of the year!
That would be Opening Day! Of the baseball season! Today! Yankees vs. Red Sox at Fenway!
What could possibly be better? Assuming the Bosox win, of course. It's okay, we got the whole season ahead of us. This is the year, hope springs eternal, we'll show them this time and all that. Everyone's an optimist today. Or tomorrow, when all the other teams start play. So, it's time to...
PLAY BALL!
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