she's just saying...

Be jealous. Be very jealous.

Presenting the winning prizes for my blogoversary contest.

For Monkey: Bob is testing out the catnip mouse here and deems it acceptable.

Here's KG's Koffee Kup Kozy:

Maybe I should quit my day job and sell knitted tchatchkes. You may place your orders...

A perfectly pleasant weekend

Saturday morning started with a long walk in the sagebrush with Mary and the dogs - an activity we've enjoyed for 12 years, on and off. Brisk and invigorating (Mary has long legs). I then brushed a pound of hair off the dog which always makes him all giddy and silly for some reason.

Mary (my occasional-housemate) has bought her own place so moved her stuff out of my spare bedroom. We'll really miss her, but I did gain back a room. I spent the rest of the day reclaiming it, moving in the Wii, books, knitting stuff, ironing board, etc. That was absurdly rewarding, and got me to organize bookcases, magazines, projects and knitting stash. As a result, my bedroom is now much less cluttered and more relaxing. I then finished every knitting project on the needles - a first in a long time. Mellow evening at home with a movie, Henry and his sleep-over friend, and a solitary sojourn in the hot tub.

Sunday I baked for breakfast, then had fun with the wet/dry vac for an hour or so. I discovered that it blew as well as sucked, so I blew all the leaves and needles from the winter off the deck, terrace and porch. Nice! Next I sucked out the old nasty pond water from the waterfall, found the leak in my liner and patched it. I filled the pool, set up and started the pump and was rewarded for all my hard work last year with the lovely sound of water down through the rock, between a trickle and a splash.  (Not a trash really, how about a splickle?)

It was (unseasonably) warm and sunny, so I sat on the terrace, enjoying the waterfall, knitting lace and drinking Pinot Gris while 10-yr-old boys played baseball in the front yard.

And you know what? I felt incredibly happy, and at peace.

And to top it all off, baseball season started.

Puppy brain

OK, no more badgers, at least til next week. Unless they spring a surprise visit, which they like to do.

Going down the requests list, how about a puppy? Or a small pony of a dog with puppy brain?

This is Fida (feminine for Fido, get it?).

She's my friend Mary's dog who visits us on weekends, along with Mary. She's huge - incredibly long and flexible, but is still a puppy through and through. A furry black tornado swirling through the house, picking up various random items in her path.

Given that Flash intensely dislikes other dogs, we were worried about his reaction at first, and he did nip her a few times to put her in her place. But he's realized she comes with Mary, who he loves, so he tolerates her. Actually, he doesn't tolerate her, she just doesn't exist to him. They live in parallel universes. Flash senses a disturbance in the force, but carefully ignores her physical presence.

It's a good approach. If annoying things won't go away, just decide they don't exist.

As the French say, "comment?"

Hey! I think this qualifies as a  on Friday post!

Just when I think nobody but fowl-wear fetishists read this blog, I get some great comments on my posts. The posts I think will get lots of comments often don't, but other random ones stir my readers up.

Hear's a shout-out (do people still say that?) to my most common commenters:

Kathi D. She always entertains, she gets me, she's a great commenter and blogger, and her blog is my must-read every day.

YrBigBro, aka Steveh, aka Henry's uncle, aka any number of aliases. He was an early reader and a frequent and generous commenter.

Susan, my big sis. Occasionally ascerbic, but always honest and thoughtful.

Chris the Monkey, who does witty and elaborate photo illustrations on his own blog; even if he is a Yankees fan.

Elise and Jen, Bend women compadres who I never see but am in touch with via facebook, twitter, blogs and the like.

PJ, Sarah, Julie and Cindy, wonderful knitters and wonderful friends.

Together, the above folk account for probably 90% of my comments, and I hope I show up on their blogs as much.

Everybody else, please say hi now and then! Clearly bloggers are narcissists and attention-seekers; otherwise we wouldn't be broadcasting our blatherings to the interwebs. So we love knowing you're out there.

my sister knows my weaknesses

PS: I forgot KG! but that would make 11, so I wouldn't get my Top Ten tag. Hey, Kevin, thanks for reading/commenting! One of my first!  And your dad says hi.

How not to hold a baby

Henry and Clementine, February 2009

Random comments (25 of them)

Several blog/facebook friends (more on that topic in another post) have tagged me for this random things meme. I'm hesitant to do it, as it seems so self-centered (not that my blog isn't), but the masses are demanding it, so...

25 random things about me

1. I hate bell peppers. Any color.
2. I have a "hangman's thumb" - a short, stubby digit that is an inherited recessive trait. It looks kind of like a big toe on my hand. I used to be very self-conscious about it as a kid.
3. I sleep best in total darkness.
4. I'm a really good cook, but I don't like to share my recipes.
5. I can only remember phone numbers by the pattern they make on the dial pad. Or I use a cool utility to turn them into words.
6. I'd choose vanilla ice cream over chocolate, even in a milkshake.
7. I have two tattoos, one of which is visible in a bikini.
8. The only carbonated beverage I like is champagne, and an occasional glass of Deschutes Brewery beer.
9. I've never been very confident on a bike. I regret this.
10. I was an ACE-certified instructor and used to teach aerobics at Joey's Gym. (thanks, Dee Dee!)
11. I can speak, read and/or understand French, Italian and Spanish, at varying levels of competency.
12. I can change my front headlights.
13. I have scuba-dived (dove?) to 250 feet. It was a dumb thing to do, really.
14. When I was 10, my family lived in Mexico City for a year.
15. We had a rooster for a pet there. We left him with our maid, who hopefully didn't eat him.
16. I would love to own farm animals.
17. I got a perfect score on the verbal GRE tests for grad school. (So did my brother.)
18. However, I don't remember my times tables. (We're working with flash cards.)
19. I secretly believe that Henry's stuffed animals have feelings.
20. I love supermarket birthday cake, especially the frosting.
    
21. I kissed a girl and I liked it. Really stupid song though.
22. An old boyfriend and I once made out on a lifeguard tower on Venice Beach in the middle of the night.
23. Only three more! I like stale Peeps.
24. I set up the wireless network in my house by myself, including two TIVOs.
25. I own two TIVOs.

Note: I had a farm animal poster on here but it gets an inordinate number of click-throughs from google images, so I deleted it. What's with that anyway??

sacrificial mouse

Liana's prize for being the 7000th visitor to the blog.

Don't you wish you had won?

A special bottle

  Last night, Neighbor X and I shared a special bottle from his "library" to celebrate the inauguration. (Wine snob alert, but he really isn't. He just collects great wine.) He made me a wonderful dinner to go along with it, and we had a pleasant and warm evening just enjoying each others company again.

I know, I know, everyone's alarms are going off.  It's ok, I'm fine, and I appreciate your concern. But it felt like the right time to take that step, and it turned out to be.

It was a healing experience, as they say. What I always appreciated about him is all still there. I'm certainly not ready to be his buddy -- as I told him four years ago, I don't need another buddy. But he holds a special place in my heart and my life, and I want to be able to think of him in a positive light, and let the bitterness dissolve.

It's all about change for the better, right? Slowly and carefully, tempering hope with realistic expectations, finding our way along to a better place. Here's to our new president, and a time of healing and growth. Cheers.

The Big C

Hmmm. I though you guys would leap at the "Two Things" challenge. Maybe you're still working on it. Well, anyway, moving on...

My old roommate's mom was a very proper Southern lady from Nashville. We used to laugh about how she would carefully mouth the word "cancer" rather than speak it out loud: "Well, you know Betty Lou's husband has c a n c e r," she'd say, relegating it to the same impolite category as herpes  or mental illness. Cancer has a scary sound to it - she wouldn't mouth the phrase heart disease, for example.

Don't worry, I'm not about to announce I have c a n c e r, except for a little skin lesion now and then (loved that baby oil when I was 14!) Since half my immediate family has had the real thing (all survivors!), it does lurk as a possibility, but so do a lot of things.

It's on my mind today for two reasons. First, I went in this morning for my annual skin check, and for those who haven't done this, let me tell you: there could be nothing more fun than having a handsome young doctor examine every inch of your bare skin under fluorescent lights. Then he cuts away bits of it to examine even more closely. Ah, yes, I did look great with a tan all those years...

But, more important than my skin, another member of our knitting group is preparing for surgery in a few days for breast cancer. Like any fanatical devoted knitter, Julie's looking at it as an opportunity to get a lot of projects done. I'm standing by for emergency yarn shop runs as needed. 

You can head over to her blog and leave some encouraging words if you'd like. While you're there, be sure to check out the breast prosthesis (aka the titbit) she's knitting up. Hilarious, and quite practical, really.

Julie's had quite an eventful year, so here's a wish that 2009 is quiet in all the best ways.

The F.O.'s of '08

(knit slang for finished objects)

So here is the panoply of Melissa's Knitting Gifts for Christmas 2008:

Some of the many mitts for friends, nieces, teachers:

(I should be a hand model!)

Sweater for Beanie, the whippet. (awaiting a fitting)

(pre)Felted clogs for Mark (unfinished objects, or UFOs)

Pouch for my bro's earphones (not as garish as shown)

Re-fashioned bag for my mom

Socks for sister #2

Nothing showing yet for sister #1, who fortunately has a birthday in January, or for Henry or my dad, neither of whom will wear anything hand-knitted.

Coming down the home stretch on Sister #1, the dog sweater and the clogs for Mark. Then in January, knitting will be...

ALL ABOUT ME.

Ooo, the anticipation!

Twelve hours later...

Yes, we made it home. The good thing about chains is that you can get through most of the bad stuff. The unfortunate side effect is you can't drive more than 30 mph. And we came back empty-seated -- Mark couldn't get to PDX until Christmas day, so he went home and started driving up. That's a devoted friend. We drove 12 hours, he's going to drive 20. One way.

The Portland airport was a nightmare in living color. People camped on the floor everywhere, lines that snaked back to security to check baggage, people stranded and babies crying and kids whining, one of which was mine. We got to experience the whole thing just for fun! It does make you appreciate never leaving the house during the holidays.

Thanks for all the good thoughts - it was an adventure!

driving back

Fun

Driving into the worst of it

We decided it wouldn't be a real Christmas without getting stuck in a snowstorm in the mountains, so we got in the car this am and are headed over the pass.

We're going to Portland to rescue our friend Mark who is trying to fly in from LA. Why we aren't flying there is a good question.

This should be fun. The entire city of Portland requires chains. Not snow tires. Chains. Plus we're driving over with Neighbor X just to keep it awkward. More posts to come!

CC #6 (belated): Fambly Christmas

 This may be an off-year Christmas for my family. It's the first time in years that Sister #1 and I (and the kids) haven't had Christmas together, and I'm seriously bummed about it. This year was Henry's and my turn to fly back east, but after three trips back there already and a new job, it was not going to happen.

Sister #2 has an interesting relationship with Christmas. She's a converted Jew and they've raised their kids in a Jewish household, but old memories die hard, so she gives and receives presents at Christmastime slash Hanukkah. I'm always careful to wrap theirs in blue and white non-denominational paper. 

Big Bro is not in the Christmas mood this year, for various reasons. He'll be at the parents' house but both he and my mom have said they're not planning to do much for Christmas this year "except for the food." Of course, with my dad still in rehab and my mom coping alone, we don't expect her to have energy left for making merry. We're sending presents anyway.

It will be a quiet Christmas here, but we're looking forward to it. No travel, no guests; except our bestest friend Mark who's flying up from LA to be with us again - we've shared Christmas with him for seven years now. Mark's the fun, bad-boy uncle-figure for Henry, and a funny, supportive partner for me. We plan to play in the snow (Henry), drink a lot (Mark and me) and not do anything we don't want to. We might even (shock of shocks) go out for Christmas dinner. That to me would be the ultimate Christmas treat.

So, what are your plans? Full-on tradition or a more unconventional approach?

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.

Ode to Kathi D

She of the cute little puppies, misted chickens and tired roosters,
the negrospeak and the goldschlager,
the gratuitous celebrity photos
and the hilarious poop-filled blog.

Why are you here reading me when she's so much more entertaining?

I even wrote her a limerick:

Ahem.

"There once was a blogger in Cal,
who I call my special pal;
she gives us the scoop
on chickens and poop,
That Kathi is my kind of gal."

Thank you. Tip your waiter on the way out.

Subdudes

OK, this isn't that cute/insightful/whatever post I promised, but it's a fun one. From the lovely and  talented Elise, this notice:

Subdudes tickets for sale online!

The Subdudes are coming to Bend! Less than a month away, and I couldn't be more nervous. (Yes, I can: a week before the show I will probably be rolled up into a ball in a corner...)

They'll be playing at the Riverhouse Convention Center, Sunday October 12. The timing is perfect because the next day is Columbus Day, so lots of folks will have the day off.

It's a benefit for Healthy Beginnings, which does amazing work for all kids in Deschutes County. The 'dudes were awesome to lower their price so we can make lots of money for Healthy Beginnings. Get your tickets online - until we have some local outlets lined up.

Come support HB, help me celebrate having lived twice my life, and you might win some cool prizes! Details and tickets at www.elisemichaelsbirthdaybash.com.

Please please please come to the party!!

It's going to be the event of the fall, for sure. All Bendites, you've got to be there. More to come.

Finally, a knitting post

Once upon a time, this was supposed to be a knit-centric blog. Oh well -- life intervenes. But for all of you out there clamoring for knitting posts (and you two know who you are) here's the latest.

Yes, I'm still working on those damn socks.  I've decided I definitely don't like knitting two at a time, not because it's hard, as I've gotten into the swing of it, but because you see no progress whatsoever. One sock is bad enough. I knit and knit and knit on these stupid things and at the end of a few hours each sock has grown maybe 3/4". I feel like Persephone, but without the ripping back. Will they never end??? They are my knitting albatross (to throw Ulysses and the Ancient Mariner together).

What is the ongoing fascination with knitting socks, anyway? In the last several years, it seems, socks have become the ultra-cool knitting project, the one that says "I'm a real knitter and you're not." I enjoyed my first seven pairs, but I now find them tedious and boring. Of course it might help if I did them in pattern (vs. stockinette, the vanilla of knitting stitches), but then they lose their mindlessness, at least for me. It is nice to always have one on the needles as they're super-portable and impress the hell out of people. They're just the thing for sports practice and doctor's waiting rooms. I just have to adopt a more zen approach: finishing is not the goal.

On the other hand, fingerless mitts are flying off the needles. (Could that be why the socks aren't getting done? Nah, that's just silly.) Though the incredibly popular Fetching pattern is vexing me. (Today's Ravelry Fetching count: 7,147. That's seven thousand pairs, people!) I undid the first one I just finished and added more cables to the knuckles for length, but the bind-off is still bugging me. I just can't get it to look right.

I need to move on though, as the Christmas queue is getting jammed up behind them...

Our Knit-Up group is doing well, continuing to grow in membership if not in participation. We get about 11-14 knitters in each of our two weekly meetings, which is a nice workable size. Not having a permanent home probably keeps the numbers down, and we haven't been publicizing it much anymore. When I get that Melissa-like urge to get all busy and grow it, I remember the reason I started it: I wanted to find some cool people to knit with. And I have. The women are wonderful, supportive, open, friendly and funny. It's perfect as is. "I LOVE YOU GUYS (sniff)."

Can I be done? and other questions

 How long does it take to get over a broken heart?  I've been trying to follow the recommendation from a great self-help book, which is not to have contact with your ex for 60 days. I've done pretty well with that, aside from some tipsy hugs during the concerts last weekend and a few text messages about baseball. It's good advice, but really hard to follow when you live three doors away. It doesn't seem to have helped, anyway.

Why does it still hurt as much as it has the last eight times we broke up? Shouldn't I be getting used to this? The heart's capacity for hope, denial and forgiveness is amazing - I keep testing the limits and not finding them. Self-preservation does kick in finally, thankfully. But the fact that it's the right thing to do doesn't make it any easier to take.

How do I get past this?  The most random things trigger a pang: a song, a trip to the farmer's market, an article I've read, turning down the wrong street, hearing a baseball score. But as Kathi says, there are things that help. Meditation, pets, friends, children, projects, compelling work; all contribute to getting through the day, and I'd even say that overall I'm happy. But the tears of a clown, etc.

Does love ever come without pain? Based on the empirical evidence I've gathered from the last thirty years, I'd have to say no. Maybe in the next thirty . . .