she's just saying...

A new day, a new era

Everything is still the same, but it all feels different. Pride and hope is in the air. Guess it's time to remove the countdown clock.

Countdown

The countdown clock has served its purpose and has been retired.

Freezing fog and it's not the weather.

Why can't things be clear, yes or no, black or white, on or off? Instead, things linger, drag on, falter, lurch to life, stutter step, misconnect, fade in and out. Situations feel frozen in place, then get slippery.

I used to be so decisive. Now I question myself and hesitate. I stand in my hallway and literally take a step forward, back and end in a muddle. I've lost my way.

Dylan nailed it: I was so much older then; I'm younger than that now.

I'm in a fog these days as well. My memory is shot and even recent events are hazy. Experts offer the easy excuse of hormonal changes, but that seems like a cop-out. You could use that rationale from age 13 to 63. Nothing has changed, but it all feels like it's slipping out of my grasp.

I don't even know the point of this post. If you do, let me know. Or come over, give me a slap and a shake and clear my head.

Hoarfrost

Hoarfrost (n): A deposit of interlocking ice crystals (hoar crystals) formed by direct sublimation on objects, usually those of small diameter freely exposed to the air, such as tree branches, plant stems and leaf edges, wires, poles, etc., which surface is sufficiently cooled, mostly by nocturnal radiation, to cause the direct sublimation of the water vapor contained in the ambient air.

western road sign

Taken on the storm drive when the boys had to pee. I was on the lookout for Black Beauty galloping through, but she never showed.

Hip--hip--hippeastrum!

I'm doing that good-gardener thing and logging my amaryllis cultivars in order to remember them when I resuscitate the bulbs next year, or, more likely, order new ones.

So here is "Naughty Lady" (who names these things?):

A dwarf, single flower, not very distinguished except in extreme close-up.

And the stunner: "Rainbow":

which is far more stunning than my meager little photos can show. A double (at least) multi-budded big flower display that breaks your heart with its beauty.

Another shot:

More to come, as they continue to bloom...

The British Empire, and her chicken thing.

You may not know that I can track my blog traffic from online search engines. Roughly half my visitors find me through the search phrase "knitted chicken jumpers." (I hate to even type those words again, but whatever, I like traffic.) Almost all of it from various little villages in England.

Obviously, there's a great interest in fowl outerwear there. Is it because so many chickens have been defeathered? Is it due to a great love of flightless birds in general? Is it code for some kinky fetish? What's the deal???

It's clear I should design a knitting pattern and post it on my blog, to drive up my traffic count for one thing. I could resize the whippet sweater...

I'm not going to link to the original story that got me to this point -- just check out the popular search to the right if you must. I'm kind of bored with the whole thing, frankly, and you probably are too.

However, for those who like their poultry live, I'm happy to share some little-known facts about these birds, courtesy of the wildlife curator at the High Desert Museum:

1. A chicken will lay bigger and stronger eggs if you change the lighting in such a way as to make them think a day is 28 hours long. [Kathi D: be sure to tell us how this works for you]
2. The chicken can travel up to nine miles an hour.
3. There are seven distinct types of combs on chickens: rose, strawberry, single, cushion, buttercup, pea and V-shaped.
4. The largest chicken egg on record was nearly 12 ounces and measured 12 inches around.
5. The greatest number of yolks in one egg is nine.
6. The longest recorded flight of a chicken is 13 seconds.
7. The waste produced by one chicken in its lifetime can supply enough electricity to run a 100 watt bulb for five hours.

You're welcome.

Don't even ask...

Down on the farm [caution: disturbing images]

If you're ant-phobic, you might want to skip this post.

Update on our 30 28 new gal pals. (Dropping like ants around here.)

They're weirdly fascinating, and truly exhausting to watch. After digging to the bottom of their gel and building a girls-only clubhouse down there,

they're now branching out with the tunnels they're known for. We were holding our breath til they finally broke through to the top of their first tunnel, but they didn't seem too excited. They just kept going.The digger ant in front gets tired now and then and takes a nap right where she's stopped, so others just push up past her to keep up the pace.

Some of them simply run up and down the tunnels -- I can't really tell what their assignment is.

Others haul gelballs around on the surface, building up their escape route to the lid.

I can sit and watch their little world for long periods. It's haunting me, honestly.

I worry about their diet, though the booklet says the gel is edible and all they need. Should we drop in some sugar crystals at happy hour? What else do ants eat, other than picnic food? Or will that just distract them from their main purpose? (which is...)

The shipping form has strict instructions against letting them loose, but I think one escaped on the pokey stick provided to help start their tunnels. I'd hate to be the person responsible for causing invasive-ant-species havoc in Central Oregon. 

I'm also concerned about their (and our) mood if they start dying off. We're supposed to take out the dead, which the ants carry to the surface in a little funeral procession. It's going to be pretty depressing around the clubhouse when half the gang croaks.

I now feel responsible for them, on top of the cats, dog, fish, occasional kitten, child and garden. (I'd worry about my worms, too, but I can't find them.) Really, just what I need, another source of guilt and stress. If you're considering an ant farm of your own (Kathi D), you might want to think long and hard about what you're getting into. J.s.*

*just saying, of course.

the light at the end of the tunnel

no no neosporin

 Public Service Announcement:

Due to a bizarre garbage can accident (quick: name the movie allusion), I scraped my lip and chin last week, and it took a turn for the worse.

In order to heal with no scar as their advertising claims, I applied neosporin 'round the clock, which resulted in a mean and nasty rash all over my chin.

Turns out, I'm allergic to the stuff.

My doctor said that 15% of the population is allergic to it, and he added the fact that Bacitracin was named Allergen of the Year by the American Contact Dermatitis Society. Kind of the Oscar for itchy scratchy stuff, I guess.

Anyway, it's not all in your mind. You may be allergic.

Club Ant, or, We have 30 new pets

Henry received that classic boy project for Christmas, an ant farm. In case you don't have a nine-year-old, ant farms are now very hi-tech with edible (by ants) gel and disco lighting. 

We had to order the ants separately, and have been waiting and worrying about them in this cold shipping weather.

They showed up yesterday in their special ant tube, looking all crumpled and dead. We were really bummed and I was steeling myself for the customer service call and the ant return shipping , when we detected an antenna or two waving feebly.

I popped the cap and the fresh warm air must have been resuscitating, because they started to stir. We got their new compound ready and dropped them in. They all woke up and ran around like crazy, waving arms and legs and trying to storm the lid.

Since it was nighttime and they'd had a grueling flight, we thought they'd like to relax and party a little, so turned on the blue lights and cranked up the tunage.

They were clearly organizing for the great escape when we went to bed.

The booklet said that it might take them one or two days to start tunneling, but our ants ignored the instructions and got busy. Overnight, they found a fault in the gel by the side wall and carved out a little ramp and a long drop with a landing area at the bottom. They carried gel boulders up to the surface and started re-landscaping, building little hills and slopes and rock piles all over.

Henry of course wanted to name them. The booklet says they're all female. "This includes all the ant workers, soldiers, etc. that you find outdoors. Male ants are created only as needed by the colony for reproductive purposes and they die shortly after mating."

Hmm. Maybe they've got something there. Just saying.

Amaryllis, not!

From Wikipedia:
Hippeastrum is a genus of about 70–75 species and 600+ hybrids and cultivars of bulbous plants in the family Amaryllidaceae, native to tropical and subtropical regions of the Americas from Argentina north to Mexico and the Caribbean. Some species are grown for their large showy flowers. These plants are popularly but erroneously known as Amaryllis, an African genus in the same family.

I reserve the right to remain erroneous.

The Four Ages of Amaryllis

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.

Two things about everything

There's a theory that for every subject, there are really only two things you really need to know. Everything else is the application of those two things, or just not important.

For an example, for trading, all you need to know is:

1. Sell high
2. Buy low

Of course, someone started a blog meme about this that I ran into recently, and I thought y'all would enjoy this little exercise. So, to get you started, here are my entries:

Two things about management:

1. Praise in public, critique in private.
2. Your job is to help them do their jobs.

Two things about client service:

1. Clients don’t like surprises.
2. Always tell the truth.

Two things about being a valued employee:

1. Make your boss look good.
2. Don’t blame others, but always give credit.

Two things about marketing:

1. Find the end-end-benefit.
2. Make it crystal clear. 

Two things about market research:

1. Identify the real objective.
2. Only ask the need-to-know questions, not the nice-to-know.

Two things about PR:

1. Perception is reality.
2. Perception is created.
   

Two things about single parenting:

1. You have to do it all yourself.
2. You can’t do it all yourself.

Two things about blogging:

1. It’s really not about you, it’s about your readers.
2. Don’t post anything you don’t want your mother or your next employer to read.

OK, your turn!

Never mind. Just delete that last post.

So, most of my knitting resolutions lasted exactly one day. How about yours?

We had a group class on the Baby Surprise Jacket, so I had to start that, and since Gossamer was so nice to provide the class space, I had to buy some yummy Cashsoft yarn for my knitting retreat in February. I didn't use point protectors and lost some stitches, then spent a few hours on ravelry.com when I could have been knitting.

However, I did finish Mark's clogs before he left Sunday a.m., and the dog sweater. See photos on the right. Next, sister #1's Christmas gift (yes, I know) then on to the BSJ. The baby decided to come two weeks early, so I'm already behind.

Unfortunately, the winter vacation break is over and work is going to cut into my knitting time, darn it. The more I knit, the more obsessed with it I become. It's clearly starting to overwhelm my blog as well.

Sorry!

Knitting up some resolutions

Ah, a fresh new year, with new knitting hopes and dreams. Isn't that what your new year is all about? But before we cast on for the next project (mine is a baby sweater for a friend's just-born), it's time to write down those serious, serious knitting resolutions for 2009.

This seems to be a popular topic in knitting blogs: Google turns up 4,900 search results for the phrase. EVERY ONE includes the resolution "Knit from my stash" (which of course is one of mine). So, without further ado, I resolve to:

1. Use point protectors on my needles. How hard can this be, seriously?

2. Knit from my stash. No, really.

4. Re-learn fair isle and maybe even intarsia, as long as it's not 

a teddy bear blankie. 

4.Spend less time looking at knitting and more time doing it.

5. At least attempt to finish projects before I cast on the next.

6. Organize my patterns.

7. Knit patterned socks so they won't bore me to tears next time.

8. Finally tackle the aran sweater with the cables and the bobbles.

So, at the risk of repeating myself piteously, won't you share yours???

Top Ten: Year in Review edition

You know the purported Chinese curse: "May you live in interesting times." This has been an interesting year, both globally and personally. Because this blog is ALL ABOUT ME, here is a top ten list of interesting things that happened in my life this year. (in chronological order - I'm not about to rank them!)

1. I started the Bend Knit-Up, which grew from six people to over a hundred in a year.

2. My dad turned 90, and we all celebrated together in NC and everyone got along.

3. AT&T bought Edge Wireless, and we no longer had any work, though we still had jobs.

4. Neighbor X and I broke up, got together, and finally broke up.

5. I taught myself the whole blogging thing, that which you are reading at this instant.

6. Henry and I went back east for a family trip and went to Fenway. Go Sox!

7. We were finally released from AT&T, though were still paid, allowing me a summer off.

8. I spent the summer off shoveling dirt and hauling rocks for my waterfall.

9. I got a new job at the High Desert Museum - yay! and patted a badger.

10. My dad broke his hip and I flew back east for the third time.

What were your interesting times?

Bob makes the front page

We're so proud...

 

more animals

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!

Everybody good?

Wow, it's been very busy around here. Doing nothing can be a lot of work. We had a lovely Christmas day and after-Christmas day, and the weekend-after-Christmas is nice too. The weather has turned warm, slightly melting the eight inches of snow we got. At least it hasn't rained. Rain on Snow is my least favorite weather condition, bar none. It's so depressing. Anyway, more fluffy white stuff in our near future...

So first of all, here are the results of all that raw fish and fowl I displayed a few days ago. Grill roasted and smoked turkey, pate and gravlax. Recipes provided upon request.

This should keep us for a few days. On top of the mussels and oysters. And cookies. And wine. I'm still full.

Which leads me to the Wii Fit! Kind of fun, easy to use and interactive enough to keep my interest for a bit, I hope. I learned a trick to it for all you who have just received one: the first "body analysis" you have to count as practice and do again. My first one said my Wii Fit age was 65 (rude) and the second time was 35 (very perceptive).

It does seem to emphasize balance, probably because the platform excels at measuring weight shifts. I got the same snotty comments Kathi D got at the beginning: "Oh, you seem to have some problems with your balance. Do you trip frequently when you walk?" asked by a concerned and caring and quite annoying trainer. It's ok though - irritation is a great motivator. "I'll show you how good my balance is!"

More to come on that front. Oh, and Henry likes it too.

I can now reveal my Christmas knitting, almost. OK, one item is not done and another is awaiting a dog size, but the rest of it. I'll do that tomorrow.

Right now, it's back to doing nothing - a sluggard's work is never done.

CC #1: Food

Cooking is not always pretty. Behold:

From the upper right, that is a turkey brining, chicken livers marinating in brandy, and salmon curing.

But soon, all this raw meat will be transformed into grill-roasted turkey, chicken pate, and gravlax (salt/sugar cured salmon).

Mark and I have some menu standards we like at Christmas. Christmas Eve is always oyster stew and Caesar salad. Christmas dinner is roast turkey (with beef for the red-meat-eaters) with all the sides including yorkshire pudding; and throughout the week, generous servings of gravlax, pate, croissants with triple-creme cheese, cookies and champagne. It's what my sister calls the annual Holiday Food Plan -- Eat What You Want When You Want.

While I'm cooking today, this is the view from my kitchen window:

The snow is snowing, snow on snow. We're ready to be snowbound and enjoy our cozy little family unit.

Have a warm and bright Christmas eve, relax, don't sweat the preparation, and enjoy your friends and family. Read "The Night Before Christmas" to the kids or pets, savor those sugar plums dancing and reindeer prancing, put out the milk and cookies, and stay up wrapping til 1 am. Sleep tight and have a wonderful Christmas morning,

Love to all,

Melissa