Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light:
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true. -- Alfred, Lord Tennyson

May 2010 be everyone's best year ever.

Happy Boxing Day!

Having British friends of the family (and also reading a lot of British books), this is a familiar day to me - traditionally, it was the day servants got their Christmas gifts, or alms were distributed to the poor. But it was also sort of another day of Christmas, a quiet day when not much had to happen but maybe some leftover festivities.

It is also St. Stephen's day on the Catholic calendar - you know the old carol, "Good King Wenceslaus went out, on the feast of Stephen"? That's today.

In some places this is also the big day for after-Christmas sales. Which I tend to be pretty 'meh' about. I would rather enjoy the time at home, with family, reading my new books or contemplating my new craft supplies.

A great and joyous Merry Christmas to all who celebrate.

I hope this day finds you happy and well, with people you love (or at least, with them calling you on the phone) in a snug house with good food and a pleasant way of spending the afternoon, whether it be reading or knitting or napping or playing board games or sledding or just watching your children have fun.

For those who celebrate, I hope all the preparations are nearly done.

I know, traditionally, trees were not put up until Dec. 24 - and in times and cultures when Advent was more strictly celebrated than it is now, many of the preparations for celebration were not done until this day. (Even my father, when he was growing up - they did not put up their tree until the 24th, and the children did not participate! Which always made me sad to think about as a kid, because decorating the tree was one of my favorite things).

And of course, tonight is the big church service. For me, this is when Christmas really 'arrives' - especially at that moment towards the end of the service, where we all have lit candles that have been lit from the Christ candle in the center of the Advent wreath, and we hold them up (symbolizing how, hopefully, we each carry a part of His light with us) and sing Silent Night. And then how quiet it is afterward, and how people hug and even kiss who normally are not that open in their greetings and emotions, and how everyone wishes everyone else a Merry Christmas, and then we all go home. And I have to admit, now, as an adult, the next morning with its presents almost feels a little anticlimactic, after the beauty of the night before. Would that all people knew that sense of togetherness and belonging and being part of something larger that fills that old church every December 24th.

One of my favorite "old timey" Christmas carols for today:

The Wassail Song



"Love and joy come to you, and to you your wassail too, and God bless you and send you a happy new year; God send you a happy new year."

Wassail, it is my understanding, is from the old Saxon phrase "Waes hael," which means "be well." - so it is doubly (triply?) wishing well to the hearer.

I know people who, for whatever reason, celebrate Solstice rather than Christmas.

So, to you who celebrate it, either as your winter holiday, or as one of them, a happy Solstice today. And today is the day when the daylength begins to get progressively longer - which I can imagine, in earlier cultures, was a vitally meaningful thing.

I often talk briefly about the whole history of this when I discuss climate and seasonality in my Ecology class...to think of people in Paleolithic times, how important it would be to see that warmth and light returning, how festivals could develop around this time. And of course, much later, the bishops, looking for a date on which the birth of Christ could be celebrated, chose a day close to Solstice (some of the evidence in Luke suggests Christ was actually born in the spring) because of the celebrations at that time.

I have known some neo-Pagans who are troubled by that, or feel that their holiday was "stolen." I have also known some Christians who did not celebrate Christmas because they saw it as being tacked on to a pagan holiday. I tend not to make such fine distinctions; I tend to prefer to come down on the side of live and let live.

This site has some of the history of solstice celebrations, and also on how Christianity has "adopted" (I prefer that to "stolen") some of the imagery, like holly and ivy.

A Christmas hymn that is not as common as some is "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day." The words are from a poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (who was born on the same day of the year as I was, just some 162 years before I was).

Longfellow wrote it during the Civil War, it was originally called "Christmas Bells." There are two stanzas in the original poem that is omitted from the carol:

Then from each black, accursed mouth
The cannon thundered in the South,
And with the sound
The carols drowned
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

It was as if an earthquake rent
The hearth-stones of a continent,
And made forlorn
The households born
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

The story goes, he wrote this after hearing that his son - fighting for the Union army - had been wounded. (He was still in mourning for his wife, as well). In the modern version of the carol, those verses are removed.

I like the carol; it, like few, recognizes the fact that some may have doubts or sadnesses during this season:

And in despair I bowed my head;
"There is no peace on earth," I said;
"For hate is strong,
And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"

How many times, since September 2001, have I said some variant of that to myself?

But the poet answers his own question:

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
The Wrong shall fail,
The Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men."

Would that that would come sooner rather than later.

The Christmas carol version of it is here (N.B.: Midi file of music plays automatically)

Lynn posted this this morning, but I had to post it too, before I head out.

It is my favorite (by FAR) version of a favorite Christmas song of mine. I love Nat King Cole anyway, but his version of this is just so great. This says "Christmas" to me in a way few pop songs can.



Merry Christmas, if you celebrate. Or happy Hanukkah (It started Friday night so I'm a bit late, but still, have a happy one). Or happy Solstice. Or Yule. Or happy New Year.

I am going to be doing the post-embargoing thing, so while there may not be a new post EVERY day that I am on break, there will be new posts here and there. Part of this is that there's so much fun Christmas/new year's/other holidays stuff out there to share, part of it is I don't like to totally go "blank" during the break. So you can look forward to occasional posts between now and January when I return.

Gearing up to get out today.

I do have to note that yesterday was the last piano lesson of the semester (I restart in January). My teacher gave me some new stuff to work on, as she was searching through her books (she loans out books as long as you are working on a piece - and some books we buy), she said, "Oh, here's a good piece for you. It's kind of long but it's a sonatina and it has key changes and tempo changes in it so it will be interesting to work on for a while"

I had to laugh when I saw what she had picked. It was the Clementi Sonatina in C, which was the most complex piece I had worked on (I never totally mastered it) back when I first took lessons as a 13 year old. Part of it is that I know I've now reached at least the level of achievement I had then, but the other part of it is that my teacher sort-of randomly (but sort-of not; I suspect the Clementi Sonatina is a common early-intermediate piano student piece) chose a piece that I knew and had played on before. (In fact, I even still have the sheet music for it from then - it was in the big box of sheet music my mom sent me when I got the piano.)

Yeah, I think I'll keep working on the piano. It's been almost a year and it's really become a part of my life. Some nights it's a little bit of an effort to get the practicing in (though trying to do 20 minutes before going over to school in the morning helps). But I still find a certain joy in being able to master a piece, or in starting something new.

When packing for an extended trip, it is important to have priorities:



(Let's see: from upper left, counter clockwise: Robbie the Robot, Gumball the Kitten, some feltable sockweight for a couple of MochiMochiland patterns, fingerless mitts (rose), fingerless mitts (the white and yellow), socks (the pastel variegated), Frances the Monster (the red variegated), Maddox the Mischievous Monster (white fuzzy), more MochiMochiland toys, and in the center, socks and the Crofter's cowl.

Not shown, is the Honeycomb vest that is going in my carry on. And the Traffic-Stoppin' Boot socks, which will go in my purse to knit on the train.

Yes, it's a lot. But I have a LOT of time to knit this break, and I like to have a couple projects going at once, and most of these are smallish things (the toys, especially; I can complete one in a day a lot of the time). Besides, for me, part of the fun of a break time is being able to pull out a project I've been wanting to start but not got around to.

And for me, it's not really Christmas break without making toys. Must have soft toys. I've got supplies for six - yes, six. Evolving Punk and Hrumph from MochiMochiland, several of the excellent Rebecca Danger "Dangercrafts" patterns, and an on line crocheted freebee.

I did decide not to even TRY to take the shawl (this was before picking out all the little-project stuff), it by itself would have taken up more room than all of this yarn. So getting back to the Rosy-Fingered Dawn shawl will be a January project.

Besides, doing lots of little projects really makes me happy. Being able to switch quickly and easily back and forth from things on a whim. With a really large project, you feel more obligated to do a lot on it. (And if I don't finish all of these things - surely I will not - and I don't have room, I can either mail the unused yarn back to myself, or I can leave it at my folks' house for the next time I visit.)

I have a little traveling box of knitting needles and crochet hooks and supplies - little scissors and stitch markers and a measuring tape and cable needles and point protectors and even a needle gauge - that I carry with me. (And that's one of the beauties, at least for now, of riding the train: no one will look at me and go "Those SCISSORS (with 2" blades) are a WEAPON and we are CONFISCATING them." Not to mention the tiny pointy needles and the crochet hooks...). And I have my little bag of eyes (toy eyes - the lock-washer kind) in there too.

Oh, I have plenty of clothes underneath all the yarn - three pairs of slacks and five or six blouses and two dresses and a skirt and the necessary underpinnings. And two heavy sweaters and one lighter one, and a shawl that works with both the dresses. And the books I want to read are in my carry on. As are my pyjamas for the night on the train, and the various printed patterns for all these things, and a little fleece blanket in case it's really chilly and the train blanket isn't enough.

(Mad packing skillz: I have them.)

I was RAKed.

I walked out to my mailbox yesterday afternoon, opened it, saw one of those big Tyvek mail envelopes (and not a FLAT envelope either) and thought, "Wait, I haven't ordered anything."

Then I thought: wait, someone on Ravelry asked for my mailing address. (Yes, we are trusting that way on Ravelry.)

It was a gift, from a fellow blogger (I will only name her here if she approves). It was a "sorry you had troubles this semester" gift of some really lovely sock yarn in a handpainted color (mostly purplish blues and some greens and burgundy). It made me very happy and I very much appreciate both the yarn and the card.

(It was a difficult semester, I realize that now. When I'm under emotional stress I don't always realize it until the stress is over, and I look back and saw how crabby/sad/uninterested in the things that usually make me happy I was).

Anyway. It's one of those little things people do that makes a lot of things better.

I've never been in a position of sufficient power or money to believe that money made the world go 'round (or maybe I've never been sufficiently cynical. Or maybe those two are the same thing). And I've never been sufficiently besotted with romantic love to believe that it makes the world go 'round (old songs to the contrary). But I am coming to think that kindness, just the simple human gestures, are what make that difference - that, figuratively speaking, make the world go 'round.

While I wouldn't claim to believe in karma (at least not in the strict sense), I do think that you tend to get back what you put out into the world. Or that you reap what you sow.

I'm not sure whether I believe that it is simply that how you behave towards others affects your attitude - and if you make an effort to be kind and generous, you are more likely to see the kind and generous actions of others, and be grateful for them, rather than perhaps taking them as your "due," as some of the so-called Special Snowflakes I have dealt with do.

Or maybe I think there's something more to it, something almost mystical. I will say there have been times in my life when I've done something generous - something over and above, that maybe hurt a bit financially - and then I would find that in the coming week, something would happen - either a check would come because my insurance company re-evaluated and found I had overpaid for my policy, or I'd have a textbook company get in touch with me and want me to evaluate a chapter for them, something.

I think of one of my favorite fairy tales as a child: I knew it as "Diamonds and Pearls" but the Folio Press version of Perrault I have refers to it simply as The Fairy. In the story, two children: one kind and good (and somewhat taken for granted), one selfish. The kind child is sent one day to draw water for the family, and she meets with an old woman. The old woman asks for a drink of water and the child tells her, "Of course" and makes the effort to rinse the pitcher first, and then take water from the clearest part of the well - simply because she is kind, and she is serving an old woman. But, it turns out, the old woman is a fairy in disguise, and she blesses the kind girl by making it so that whenever she spoke, diamonds and pearls would fall from her lips.

(Now, truth be told: I think that were that literally to happen, it would become very tiresome very fast. But even as a child I understood the symbolic meaning of the fairy's gift, that it was not so much literal diamonds and pearls, but "pretty is as pretty does")

Later, the selfish girl is sent out (the mother scheming to think that she could get another daughter with the same gift). This time, the fairy disguises herself as a princess. The selfish girl, upon being approached, is rude to the princess - thinking, "why should I get water for one so wealthy?" and the fairy wound up cursing her, so that snakes and toads would fall from HER mouth when she spoke.

And while it's just another version of the old "entertaining angels unawares" idea, it made a big impression on me - that you should treat everyone with respect, because you never really know who they are, and later on, that grew into the idea that you should treat people with respect not because they might be someone who can do something for you, but because...well, because they are a fellow human being.

And while I will admit to having been "burned" at times for treating people with kindness, there are also plenty of times where I found someone who started out surly or cranky became more friendly, more inclined to listen to me, because I had a kind word or said "Please" or "thank you."

Perrault is fond of putting rhyming "morals" (sometimes more than one) at the end of his tales; here is the one for the story referenced above:

Though -- when otherwise inclined --
It's a trouble to be kind,
Often it will bring you good
When you least believed it could.

.

Yes, I do think that's true. That making an effort to be kind does help. And making an effort to do good to benefit someone who needs it will come back to bless you somehow.

And it does seem in my life that when I need help in some way, it comes to me, and I sometimes wonder if that's partly because I've given help when it was needed.

Or, perhaps, on a more mundane level: because there are people willing to help at time A, when one of those people needs help at time B, there is still a critical mass of people able and willing to help.

And sometimes, people who are helped are able to turn around and help others. A couple Christmases ago, the pastor read a letter that had come to the church. Years back, our church had helped a person who needed it - who was in dire financial straits. Well, this person (who has since moved to another city) remembered it all that time, and when he finally got into a position where he could, he paid back what we gave him - and then some. With the idea that "you do good work" and that we could use the money to help others.

And last night, at the CWF party, the issue came up of a person we go to church with - no names were named but I could guess who it was from the description, even though I was probably not meant to - the person has recently had some major health issues and is no longer able to work. And while they are in the process of doing what they need to do to go on SSI and other forms of assistance, there's a time-lag. And there was some concern that this person and their family (an adult child and grandchild) would not have much of a Christmas - not even have enough food. And so we passed the hat and are going to send a member out to spend about $100 to get enough food to keep the family going for another week or so until the assistance kicks in after Christmas. (I hope the person will accept the gift; apparently they have been too proud to apply at the local food banks, even though they are exactly the sort of person for whom we have the food banks).

But to be able to do that - to be able to step in and fill that gap, that's important, that's one of the reasons why we get together as a group. One of the reasons why we call ourselves Christians. And maybe someday if someone else in the group needs help, someone who threw a ten or 20 dollar bill in the kitty, they will get helped themselves.

So in big things (like feeding a family who might not have much to eat otherwise) or little things (sending a cheer-up gift of sockyarn to a person who really, truly, doesn't "need" it but certainly appreciates it), kindness seems to be the thing that (to me) keeps the world on its axis - that when I look around and see people behaving in ways that are heartless and selfish, I kind of despair, but if I look a little closer, and maybe in different places, I can find people being big-hearted and selfless, and in a way it balances out, and maybe even the love edges out the selfishness just a little bit. There's an old Jewish saying that goes something like "With every selfless act a human does, God says, 'For this, I do not destroy the world.'"

And I think when people do nice things for you - and you know how it feels - you are much more prone, when you have the chance to do something similar for someone else, you do it - because you think about how it will make the person feel, and, if you're like me, it makes you happy to imagine the other person being made happy.

And so maybe kindness is like a good sort of virus, that as people get "infected" by others, they are prone to pass it on themselves.

O blessed free time.

One of the things I did this weekend was to get all of my Christmas cards out. I still do ink-and-paper Christmas cards even though lots of people have gone to electronic cards or things like that.

I send a few to family, a few to far-off friends, a number to friends from church. It's funny, as I address them, I think of two things:

a quotation from Truman Capote's "A Christmas Memory":

Who are they for?

Friends. Not necessarily neighbor friends: indeed, the larger share is intended for persons we've met maybe once, perhaps not at all. People who've struck our fancy. Like President Roosevelt. Like the Reverend and Mrs. J. C. Lucey, Baptist missionaries to Borneo who lectured here last winter. Or the little knife grinder who comes through town twice a year. Or Abner Packer, the driver of the six o'clock bus from Mobile, who exchanges waves with us every day as he passes in a dust-cloud whoosh. Or the young Wistons, a California couple whose car one afternoon broke down outside the house and who spent a pleasant hour chatting with us on the porch (young Mr. Wiston snapped our picture, the only one we've ever had taken).

Now, granted, young Mr. Capote is talking of fruitcakes. And I've never sent a card to the President (I presume he gets enough, and from people far more important than I am). But I do send out cards to people I don't see year in and year out, to people who perhaps touched my life once or twice but with whom I stay in some level of contact. But I think of that quotation as I write all of the addresses out, and as I stack the cards in order of zip code number (something Mr. Capote would not have known in his fruitcake days, as it didn't exist yet) in preparation for them being sent out.

The cards sat on my piano, next to the nativity scene, the rest of the weekend, in a neat little stack. (They are out in the mailbox now, awaiting the postal carrier.)

Christmas cards are one of the traditional things that I do. I don't know how widespread a tradition it remains; it seems a lot of people of my generation don't do it any more. But I still do, remembering the big production it was when I was a kid - I swan, my mother had 100 people on her list. (Some years, after I learned to type tolerably well, she hired me to do the addresses on the envelopes for them. And from that - as I've said before - I learned the polite conventions of how you address things; "Mr. and Mrs. Lastname" for a couple without children at home, "Mrs. Herfirstname Hislastname" for widows, and so on). And for me, it's link with those childhood Christmases, and yet also a way I tell myself, "You are a for-real for-true grownup: look, you are sending Christmas cards!" And I enjoy doing it. And I think at least some of the recipients enjoy it; I know people (relatives and friends from church) who were housebound during this time (either because of a short-term illness, or because of a permanent problem, or because they have given up driving and don't get out much) mentioned how they enjoyed getting mail that was REAL mail, not bills or advertisements. So I like sending cards (and I do send cards to people I know who are housebound for whatever reason) because I like to think that at least some people are made glad by them.

I also think of Sir John Betjeman's poem about Christmas, where he was (it is said) trying to fight himself out of the doubt and depression he felt. It contains the line, "And girls in slacks remember Dad/and oafish louts remember Mum" and perhaps it is not a very flattering line (I think at the time it was written, to be a girl in slacks was to essentially be seen as "fast" or perhaps "too mannish by half"). But in this modern day, I see it more as people who may not have much contact with tradition - who may be living adult lives very different from what was envisioned for them (and perhaps, very different from what they envisioned) thinking back to their family.

(I know in many ways my adult life is different from what I envisioned it would be as a child. Not that that's bad, it's just...sometimes I wonder what it would be like if I had, as I expected I would as a child, gotten married and had kids and stayed home with them like my mom did.)

(The entire poem is here, 'ware the pop-ups.)

But I do like sending off cards. I used up my entire box of 25 Leanin' Tree cards I bought, plus a few House-Mouse ones I had hanging around, so if in the next day or two I get an unexpected card or think of someone else I want to send a card to, I may have to go out and buy a few more.

****

I also finished the Lepidoptera mitts this weekend. I really love them, this is a wonderful pattern, and it is just the right weight to keep your hands warm typing in a chilly room, or to wear while reading in bed at night (I turn the thermostat down at night so if I read in bed, sometimes my hands get cold).

Many thanks to Alison at Simply Sock Yarn for the free pattern (it is on her blog, permalinked here.) And I can highly vouch for Simply Sock Yarn's customer service; I have bought a LOT from them over the past couple years and always been happy.

The yarn I used is not one of hers; it is from a small indie dyer named Damselfly Yarns (esty shop). The color is called Northern Lights; it is supposed to look like the aurora borealis in the night sky.



I can see why these kind of little fingerless gloves enjoyed popularity in the Victorian era. For one thing, they are practical and warm: you can write or knit or even play the piano while wearing them. But also, if you have pretty and expressive hands, they draw attention to them. (And I suppose hands were one of the few female body parts to which it was really appropriate to draw attention in that era...)

I'm going to do another pair in this pattern, using a variegated Wildfoote in rose and pink.

Today was my piano teacher's annual Christmas party.

Driving home from it, I said something to myself that I almost never say, and perhaps should occasionally.

"You are made of awesome today."

See, at her party, she has her students play the Christmas/holiday pieces they've been working on for six weeks or so. I had been working on a very pretty arrangement (done by Martha Mier, I am not familiar with her but her arrangements are very nice) of "It Came upon the Midnight Clear."

Last week in lesson, playing it for her, I got nervous, thinking about performing it, and kept messing up. She reminded me that none of her adult students were ever "required" to perform, and that I could beg off - even the day of the party - if I didn't feel comfortable playing.

But I decided that I had to. I couldn't chicken out, this was a much less frightening situation than a "real" recital, and if I could start out performing at things like these, I could eventually work up to "real" performing.

So I didn't chicken out. She let me come early so I could play the piece a couple times "in the venue" (she had moved the piano - it's a small, spinet-like digital piano - out into the main area of the place where she has her music lessons. (She rents space from a woman who has a tutoring/after school program for school kids).

I messed up once or twice but finally got through it and decided that it was as good as it would be.

I think what made it easier for me this time was (a) there were far fewer students and (b) a lot of the students were much younger and played much shorter, simpler pieces.

I got up there and started to play. And I started strongly, which helps a lot - even in practicing, if I mess up early in a piece, it makes it harder for me to get back on track.

As I played, I realized, "I'm doing this! I'm really doing this! I'm not messing up, I'm actually putting in the dynamic changes and ritardandos where I need them!"

And then, about 2/3 of the way through, I realized, "Holy cats, I'm playing in front of other people." And then my hands started to shake. But I told myself, no, you CANNOT mess this up now. You CAN keep playing and you CAN play it acceptably well.

And, amazingly, I did. I think I made one tiny mistake (hit a wrong key in a chord, but it was not so "wrong" because it was a note that would be part of the chord if the full chord were being played...so as substitutions went, it wasn't very noticeable.)

My teacher told me afterward that I had done really well. And I think I did do really well. (Like any time I perform - even sometimes when I have to give a prayer and it's a very Big Serious Situation - I kind of forget what I'm doing during the process, it's like my brain goes on autopilot to keep me from freaking out. And I had practiced the devil out of this piece, so I was able to go on autopilot.)

I'm so relieved it's over. And I'm relieved I did well. I think I need to find a few more casual, low-stakes situations where I can play for someone other than my teacher so I can work more on losing my fear of performing. (It's funny; I don't really fear public speaking at all, but put me in front of an instrument and I'm terrified. I think it's because I had one or two really bad experiences back when I played clarinet as a kid.)

And now, except for teaching Sunday School tomorrow (which is already prepared) and Youth Group tomorrow night, I am pretty much DONE until after Christmas. Believe me, I am going to relish the time off.

I almost-finished a second one of those waffle-stitch dishcloths last night while watching "A Christmas Story." I have this on dvd despite the fact that usually TBS runs it as a marathon on Christmas eve.

I love the movie. It's one of my favorite Christmas movies, and probably is my favorite of the ones made in the past 50 years or so.

The funny thing is, I grew up some 30-35 years later than Ralphie Parker would have, and yet there are still things in there I relate to...and I just love watching the movie, they did such a good job (I think) of setting the era - the soap-powder boxes on the big porcelain sink in the kitchen, the clothing, the interior colors.

It may be that I like the movie in part because it reminds me of my maternal grandmother's house, where not a lot had changed since the 40s and 50s.

Also, parts of the movie were filmed in and around Cleveland. (At first, I thought the exterior shots of the elementary school just *might* have been the old elementary school in Hudson - where I went to third grade, but now I don't think so, there's no mention of it in the credits). So a lot of the exterior shots are familiar. (Higbee's, I think, is long gone, more's the pity. I don't know that there are very many of those grand old downtown department stores any more but they used to be such a staple, such a common thing. I've written before of going to the big old downtown Akron O'Neil's, both for school-clothes shopping, and also for Breakfast with Santa and the "Santa's Wonderland" thing (a walk through thing with animatronic deer and stuff...eventually leading up to Santa, where you got your picture taken with him.)

I don't remember ever having been terrified by Santa, though, but the Santas I remember were considerably more jovial than the one in the movie.

So much of that movie - we all love it in my family - have become family jokes, from "Fra-gee-ley, must be Italian" to the Bumpas dogs to "Chinese turkey." (The first time we ate at the fancy Chinese buffet in town, where they had duck - not whole entire duck but pieces, I think it was called "crispy duck" - someone made the comment of "The first time I had Chinese turkey..." and we all laughed)

I may also relate to the movie because a lot of the stuff in it is reminiscent of stories my parents tell about their childhood - the horrible tires that would go flat, the radio programs (though my mom says she was more partial to Gene Autry than to Little Orphan Annie), the classroom (my mom says her sixth grade classroom was just like that one).

And I also think there is sort of a universal childhood experience in wanting something SO MUCH, so much you are willing to scheme and pester to get it, and you don't think you will, and then (if you're lucky) waking up on Christmas morning and finding that you did, after all, get it. And one aspect of Christmas, really, is about getting far better than what we actually deserve, even if we did cry or pout, we still get that really extra-wonderful present. (And as an adult, you realize there is a more important Present you have received than a "Red Ryder bb gun with a compass in the stock and a thing that tells time")

Chris:

YES, the tiny ping. I had forgotten about that but now I remember it completely. Lying in the quiet dark room, looking at the tree, and hearing the tiny "pings" of the lights as they switched on and off.

We also have bubble lights on the tree - my mom bought some when they were first reproduced because my dad had always talked about having them on the tree when he was a kid. I like them too, but not as much as the blinking lights.

***

I had a fun lunchtime. One of the people I know from Ravelry - she goes by the name Godpigeon on there - was passing through on a trip, and she wanted to know if she could stop for lunch. As this was one of the rare days when I was actually free over lunch, I did.

So we went to Roma's, and to the quilt shop here, and she got to see our World's Largest Peanut. (A statue, in honor of Bryan County peanut farmers).

It was cool. I'm always a little nervous meeting people "off the Internets," not so much because of a safety thing (I don't do foolish things like agreeing to meet someone I barely know in a non-public place) but because I'm never sure if I'm going to rub someone the wrong way, or if I'm going to come down with a case of the shys or something. But it went well, she's a pretty cool person, and I was able to help give her directions to some other places she wanted to go.

Christmas decoration pictures.



This is not much in focus, but it's a shot of my tree, in the dark. I particularly like having the tree lit up when the rest of the room is dark; the lights almost get a bit of a halo from all of the crystal bead "icicles" I have on the tree.

They are tiny colored lights. I prefer the colorful lights; I don't think there's anything wrong with white lights but I just like the colorful ones better, perhaps partly because they are what we had when I was growing up. (Well, we had the big old "C 7" lights instead of the tiny bulbs I have on here. And we had a lot of twinkle bulbs, which were made so they would randomly - each bulb separately - blink off and on. I loved those and I don't know if you can buy them any more. I know you can set the small strands to blink with a single blinker bulb, but I preferred the random, more "organic" seeming blinking on and off of different bulbs at different times, rather than the (to me) reminiscent of a marquee all on or all off at once)

I remember as a kid, when the tree had a lot of twinkle bulbs on it, how nice it was to lie down on the floor next to the tree, in a darkened room, and watch the changing pattern of the lights on the ceiling.

Really, a lot of those things are the best parts of the celebration - the simple little things that are different from what you do the rest of the year.

I also have the mantel decorated. I like being able to do this; there's something nice each season about coming up with a different theme.



I have a faux evergreen garland with tiny white lights on it, and then I put up the various little figures I have.

Like snowmen:



The one on the far right sings and plays Jingle Bells (and has a snow dog with him that barks the chorus) when you press the button on his hand. It's kind of dumb and silly, but I think if you can't enjoy dumb and silly things at Christmas time, when can you?

This little elf has made kind of a resurgence (apparently there is a children's book tie-in where the parents move the elf around the house, the idea being that the elf is "watching" the kids to report their good deeds back to Santa). But this one is vintage, from an antique shop. (I think I've already mentioned that my grandma had one of these and I was always kind of sad that when she passed away, a lot of the little stuff that she had wound up getting lost/stolen/thrown away. I would have liked to have that elf. But at least I have one of his brothers.)

Diagnosis: leaves in the vent stack causing a clog.

Leaves are now gone. Plumber will be back on Friday to make the vent stack longer in the hopes of preventing this problem in the future. (I always worried the vent stack was too short, it only extends like 4" above the roof surface.)

Another thing - they first tried removing the toilet and snaking from that drain. And one of the plumbers comes out to me where I am studiously trying NOT to listen in and worry about what's wrong, and says, "Ma'am? Did you know that the toilet was installed wrong? There's no flange here."

Well, yes, I did in fact know that. I saw it when I took the toilet off back when I had to change the wax seal myself. But I had kind of figuratively stuck my fingers in my ears about it - none of the other plumbers I had (to replace wax seals, and once, to extract a sample-sized bottle of facial moisturizer that fell in there WHILE the toilet was flushing) said anything about it, so I assumed it was minor.

But they seemed to think that the lack of a flange was what destroyed wax seals faster, and also, it did mean the toilet wobbled.

So I had them put one in, since they could. And since they were already out. Oh, I know it will be expensive, but whatever.

Also on Friday, in addition to fixing the vent stack, I'm having the guy correct a couple of drips. I have faucets that drip and I always say, "You're smart enough to fix those so they won't drip" but I never make the time to. So I might as well pay someone who knows how to do it - and who is already out on a service call - to fix it.

I remind myself that this is why I'm cheap in certain ways - I almost never eat meals out, I don't buy a lot of clothing - so that I have a little cushion of money so that when something bad happens, I don't have to worry about how I'm going to afford to have it fixed.

Oh, and:

not taken as spam, Lydia. My "karma fairy" comment was a response to someone - who I doubt is a regular reader and is very likely a clever 'bot - posting those "I find your blog interesting and relevant! So Click Here!" comments on posts 2, 3, and 4 years old. (I have comment moderation in place for older posts, so they get caught)

None of my regular readers I regard as ever spamming; it's people whose names I don't recognize who don't really say anything related to the post (see example above) but then drop in a link to their blog or splog or whatever....

I'm not sure the benefit of dropping spam links in old posts that are rarely read anyway, but it still ticks me off. If I wanted to have advertising on my blog, I'd expect to be showered with filthy lucre (or at very least, free craft supplies) for doing it.

Argh. The photos below were taken at a happier moment, before I found I have what is probably a backed-up drainline in the house. (I was running a load of laundry and dirty water started to bubble up in the tub and toilet. I have a plumber coming out early tomorrow morning and he assured me it was OK to use the toilet, just not shower or anything (not like I would, until I can clean all the crap* out of the tub, and I just don't have the energy for that tonight). Because otherwise, I WOULD be taking a room in a hotel for the night. I don't do buckets or mason jars or any of the other un-funny suggestions people made to me.)

(*not literally. It looks kind of like bits of leaves, which frightens me a little that there might be a break in the line somewhere.)

But anyway. Let's figuratively stick our fingers in our ears and go "la la la" so we can't hear the water gurgling up in the tub. (Not that it is, any more, and it did drain back out).

First of all, some old knitted stuff. This hat is 11 years old. I know that because I remember finishing it up while sitting in the hotel room before my brother's wedding.

I call this my "crazy Christmas hat." I guess I forgot to wear it last year and maybe even the year before, but I got to thinking about it today and wondered, "Where's my crazy Christmas hat at?" So I dug through the big totes of knitted stuff and located it.

This is the hat that, when he first saw me wearing it, uttered the famous line, "Only you, Erica. Only you."



Frankly, I think it's rather fetching, but then I am not known for my fashion sense.

I also finished the first of the Lepidoptera mitts. This is a fun pattern to make and goes fairly quickly. I did do one modification, the original pattern does not call for ribbing at the top (finger) edge, but I did 6 rows of ribbing as for the cuff.



These were made using a Damsefly yarn, I think the colorway was named Northern Lights. They actually look a little Goth-y to me with the green and black, but I like them.

I also have a single skein of a very pretty rose-and-green mix Wildfoote that I bought because I loved it so much, even if there was the only skein and there wasn't enough for socks. But there should be for a pair of mitts, so I may make myself a second pair off this pattern using that yarn. (Especially now that I know how many repeats of the pattern is "right" and all that).

Something for Christmas, as Lynn says.

I was thinking the other day about the Christmas programs at my high school (I attended a private school so they felt they had more of a free hand at explicitly doing "Christmas.")

Several years we did a Messiah sing, which was fun and nice (even though I wound up in the altos because I was deemed to have an insufficient top range to be a soprano). But one year they let the Languages department plan it. And so they selected one carol in each of the languages taught at my school: Spanish, French, Latin, and German. And I think they tried to pick "characteristic" ones - the Spanish and French ones I was not at all familiar with until that year. (And we sang them in their proper languages even if we were just doing it phonetically).

So, I've tried to find each one on YouTube. In the case of Fum, Fum, Fum (the Spanish carol), I had to take one done in English - most of the Spanish version I found were, apparently, "dance remixes" and were not in the style of how we did it:



And in French, we sang, "Un flambeau, Jeannette, Isabella":



(I really like that one. Very nice version, and I love it when people can sing a capella like that.)

For Latin, there was Adeste Fidelis. (And oddly enough, that's the only one I remember most of the lyrics to in the original language, though I took four years of French in high school and no Latin. And yes, I am known to occasionally break out into it this season.)



(Here's a second version. I don't know if it's just my connection or not but midway through Carerra's singing, the audio gets a little breaky)



I do love choral music, sung by a large choir. It matters not if it's a "boy choir" like here, or a church choir, or a group of semi-professionals.

And then finally, for German, O Tannenbaum.



(Heh. Yes, a little different there, Nat King Cole's version. I don't know German well enough to know if his pronunciation is any good or not. And you know, I do love Nat King Cole even if he was regarded as "old fashioned" by the time I made the scene.)

And yet another version, because I love Vince Guaraldi also, and a lot of his arrangements say "Christmas" to me. Having grown up watching the Charlie Brown Christmas special EVERY year since I was a very small child, this is extremely evocative.



I think I need to get out my CD of the soundtrack to that special and listen to it.

Really hard-core fans of Queen might not appreciate this, but it had me laughing.



ETA: It occurs to me that "He's just a poor boy, from a poor family" would be a great equivalent to "This is the tiniest violin in the world, playing just for you."

I did some knitting over the weekend. It was mostly gift-related things (including a start on a sooper seekrit swap present for February, which I won't post here until the swappee actually receives it).

But two Christmas gifts I can post here, as I am beyond reasonably confident that neither person reads.

First, for the long-time family friend with whom small gifts are exchanged:



Three dishcloths. The leftmost one (blue) is crocheted; it's the very simple "first project" dishcloth from "Cozy Crochet." The middle one is the cute waffle-pattern cloth. I've already started another - in red and white "candy cane" yarn to give to my mom. And the third one, the blue ombre one, is the plain old "Grandmother's Favorite" pattern - but as I said, it makes a very effective dishcloth so there's not really a need to be fancy with it.

I was also thinking hard about some small gift for Jo - the person who gave me the Beatrix Potter book. I usually give her some small item, but because of the stage of life she's in, too much "stuff" is not desirable. (And she has to watch her diet with certain things - salt, especially, now - so food gifts can be tricky).

But she does like small ornaments and such. She has a whole row of model cottages in her house, and she has some Britain's metal soldiers (I think it's the Coldstream Guards) that she picked up on one of her trips back home. And she likes birds. And she likes the sort of small toy-type item.

So then I saw this pattern and figured it would be just right.

I will say the directions are kind of minimal - they don't even really tell you which end is up (I used the decrease end as the head end) and the beak on mine came out a little different than on the original. But still, I think it's cute.

Just like every year....

You Were An Angel This Year

You Were 10% Naughty, 90% Nice You know you've been a super good girl this year So good, that you may have missed out a little... Don't worry, Santa will make it up to you!

Were You a Naughty Girl or Nice Girl this Year?

Blogthings: We Have a Quiz for Almost Everything

Mostly, it's lack of opportunity. And yeah, I miss out on a lot.

Pumpkin cookies! (Actually, pumpkin chocolate-chip cookies)

(Edited because of typo in baking time, thanks Charlotte)

I made these this weekend, for the five day feast of finger foods that we have in my department during the December exam week: everyone brings stuff in, some old favorites, some new recipes, to share.

This was a new recipe for me. I was not sure how they would be, never having eaten pumpkin and chocolate together. But they are very good. (And they are spectacular if you can serve them still warm from the oven, so the chocolate is still a bit melted).

The recipe comes from a back issue of "Illinois Country Living." This is a magazine that the electric and gas co-op my parents belong to puts out, they feature a few recipes from one of those "community" cook books (like churches and Junior League groups put out) every month. This one was from a cookbook put out as a fundraiser for a school in my parents' town; the taco dip recipe I posted last year came from this same issue.

(Which makes me think I should call up the school when I get up there for Christmas and see if they have any of the cookbooks left to purchase, seeing as two randomly selected recipes were good).

Anyway, pumpkin-chocolate-chip cookies:

1 cup canned pumpkin
1 cup sugar
1/2 cup cooking oil (I use my fallback: the "light" tasting olive oil, which doesn't taste "olivey" at all and which has "good" fats in it)

1 egg, beaten
2 cups flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon vanilla
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon baking soda, DISSOLVED IN 1 teaspoon milk
6 ounces of chocolate chips (I used the Ghiardelli 60% cacao semi-sweet chips and they were about perfect. I think a sweeter chocolate would be too sweet, but the semi-sweet chips with their dark chocolate flavor were really good).

Preheat the oven to 375.
First, dissolve the baking soda in the milk and put aside.

Then, mix the pumpkin, sugar, oil, and egg. Add the vanilla.

Combine the dry ingredients (flour, baking powder, cinnamon, and salt) in a separate bowl. Sift if you need to. (I find I rarely have to sift flour these days).

Add the flour "alternately" with the milk (which seems odd as there is only 1 t of milk, but that's what the directions say). Make sure the milk/baking soda is stirred up so the soda isn't all on the bottom of the cup or bowl you mixed them in.

Stir until combined, and then add in the chocolate chips.

Drop by teaspoonfuls on a cookie sheet. (They don't say to grease it - I used parchment paper which I find always works well for baking cookies). Bake for about 10 minutes.

The batch I made made just shy of 4 dozen. They are more cakelike than the typical chocolate chip cookie. You don't really taste the pumpkin strongly; you might not realize it was in there if you didn't know.

I saw this poem (called Thanksgiving) linked over at Lynn's.

But you should read the whole thing. It's quite powerful and I think something we as a society can be too prone to forget.

Wow, I can't quite believe today is the last day of classes. (And I don't even really *teach*, it's presentation-day in both so I listen to and grade students on their presentations). That's how semesters often are - you're running like crazy, and then suddenly, bam, it's over.

****

I wish I had had knitting with me yesterday. Our internet did wind up going down again, and I wound up sitting for nearly 2 hours while my student took her early exam. (I did read most of a book on plagues, and learned that Jenner was actually not the first with smallpox preventative - he perfected vaccine, using cowpox, but prior to that, there was inoculation, using scabs from smallpox victims. Inoculation gave the person a weak case of smallpox but apparently everyone recovered. It was developed in Turkey and spread out from there. (This would have been the early 18th century)

Cotton Mather was among the advocates of inoculation. As was Lady Mary Wortley Montagu (who had herself survived smallpox - she was left scarred and without eyelashes - and she lost a brother to it).*

There were a lot of people opposed to both inoculation and later, vaccination. Some on the grounds that it was too dangerous to put such a foreign substance into the body (which I think is still part of the anti-vaccine platform today), but others who said things like, "Smallpox is God's way of keeping the population down" (Ugh. I think God is smart enough and compassionate enough to find a less painful way) or that people deserved to suffer from smallpox, as it was simply one of the prices humanity had to pay for sin. (I doubt that many of the anti-vaccine folks espouse that today, though I suppose some might).

(*I wonder if perhaps some of my own feelings in favor of vaccination - particularly for things like polio - are colored by having talked to older relatives and people I went to church with, who raised children during the "polio summers" and hearing about their fears and also about the children who caught it and died.)

So then again, maybe it wasn't so bad I didn't have knitting with me. (Though I can and do knit and read).

****

Last night was the annual AAUW Christmas party. I made a barbecued sweet and sour meetball recipe that I got out of Cook's Country (unfortunately recipes are only available to subscribers for copyright reasons, but I will say it's a good magazine). They were pretty good.

I was reminded, when I was cutting up the onion for the sauce, of something my friend Dorothy (who passed on last fall) said to me - this was very shortly after I had moved here - I was helping fix Youth Supper (ah, that was back in the days before the congregational split, back when there were more than enough volunteers for everything). I was cutting up onions, in my typical way - cut them in half, then cut thin slices one direction, turn the onion 1/4 turn, cut thin slices perpendicular to the first set, and then slice up from the bottom of the onion (x, y, and z axes, I suppose)

She looked at me and said, "You cut onions that way because you are a scientist."

And I responded, "No, I cut onions this way because that's how my mother taught me to." And she kind of chuckled.

I still cut onions that way because I don't like big chunks of onion in stuff and so I prefer to do the tiny little dice. And there is something that does please me about the orderliness of cutting an onion in the way I do (so maybe I do cut onions in that way partly because I am a scientist).

I still kind of miss Dorothy.

Well, it's been an exciting morning. (It would be exciting in a bad way if I were not the sort of person who prepares in advance for things).

There was apparently a HUGE GIANT POWER SURGE on campus last night, it blew out all the networks (we just now, and probably only temporarily, got internet connectivity back). No printers. No e-mail. No access to BlackBoard (and I had been planning on updating grades this morning, but OK, I can do it now)

But what was really bad? A couple buildings on campus have no power. One is running on a generator and the other one - the Print Shop - shut down for the day.

(Thank goodness I have no Monday finals; our poor secretary will probably have to copy ALL the finals for Monday herself on the little office copier. Ugh.)

I'm half expecting us to lose power at some point. Which wouldn't be a big deal, save for the fact that I have an international student who wanted to come in and take her final early so she can get back to Ecuador a bit early. So I hope we keep power on so she can do that.

We're also supposed to get snow again tomorrow.


****

I usually use this weekend - the one between classes and finals - as a "blow out the cobwebs" time - either to go antiquing or to go to McKinney. I don't think I am going to this year, for a couple reasons:

a. I just spent a lot of money on new windows (which should be delivered tomorrow or Monday) and I think I'm going to try economizing for a while to build back my savings account.

b. It's supposed to be cold. And maybe snowy. And I don't want to risk driving in bad weather if it's for something "frivolous"

c. (most importantly) I'm just sort of tired. This has been a long semester, I feel like I've not been home enough, I feel like I have all these partly-done projects crying out to me. So I think I'd relish a long Friday afternoon and evening, and an entire Saturday, at home with no responsibilities other than listening to music and knitting.

Also, I arrive at my parents' home with more than a week to spare before Christmas, so if I want to do some clothes-shopping or craft-shopping, I can just as easily do it there.

It will be good to have a weekend at home. (And, I heard that this is the weekend that the Family Channel re-runs the Harry Potter movies. I ADORE the Harry Potter movies; they are such a great escape and I find them eminently re-watchable. So I can see myself sitting happily on the couch with the Honeycomb vest back that is very nearly done, and enjoying watching Alan Rickman chew the scenery a bit as Snape.)

****

I'm already thinking about what projects to bring with me to work on over Christmas. I'm strongly leaning towards winding off the other colors needed for the "Rosy Fingered Dawn" shawl (yes, I am still working on that, or rather, it's still sitting there not being worked on) and planning to spend a lot of time with that, as I have a week before Christmas, and what I have taken to thinking of as the "quiet week at the bottom of the year" after, and then a few days in January before going back. So I could potentially get a lot done on it.

And I think I'm going to take the Honeycomb vest, with the intention of finishing THAT.

And some sockyarn. There have to be socks. Maybe one of the sock books I'd like to do a couple different patterns out of. Or maybe a stack of internet-freebee patterns, some of the ones I've collected, that I never got around to knitting up. Or there are a couple of Nancy Bush patterns from Piecework I've been itching to start - I could even just copy them over here and not have to take the whole magazine with me.

And I'm going to hunt through my pattern-stash, particularly of small toy items, and take some patterns for toys and make toys. Because it's not Christmas break for me without making a few toys. Even if I just take the pattern and either use the leftover yarns I've left at my parents' house, or go out and buy new for whatever I'm making.

***

I did get some stuff done on a little gift. One of the long-time family friends (long-time in the sense that I went and stayed with her and her husband when my mom was in hospital having my now-35-year-old brother) exchanges small gifts with us over the holidays. I try to figure out something to make each year.

This year, I'm doing dishcloths. Yeah, it's small, but dishcloths are actually surprisingly useful (and sturdy; you can even boil the cotton ones to clean them if you have to).

I did one of the old "Grandmother's Favorites" (if you're a knitter, you probably know what that is; one example of the pattern is here. It's dead easy to knit - all garter stitch plus yarn overs and decreases - and would actually be my nominee (rather than the endless and boring garter stitch scarf) as a good learn-to-knit project.

Simple as they are, they work really well for scrubbing dishes. Or countertops. Or glass doors on appliances. Or even your face, if you don't worry about breaking the little capillaries under the skin. (I have to scrub my face carefully; my skin is so fair and thin that even the slightest damage shows up pretty badly)

I'm also doing a waffle knit dishcloth, which is also a very cute pattern and works up into a nice cloth.

For the third one, I'm going to do a simple single-crocheted cloth like one in one of my crochet books.

I'm contemplating sending them with either a nice bar of some of the "locally" made (well, local in the sense of it being Oklahoma) soap, if I can still find it. Or maybe some other little thing. Not sure what.

I really really am loving the KING-fm Christmas channel.

They just played a piece - it's familiar but I can't remember the title - but it's one of those old "shape note" hymns or one of those Sacred Harp pieces.

They play a nice diversity of stuff, a lot of it sacred music, but then also some secular stuff (they had an interesting setting of Frosty the Snowman earlier) and some not-explicitly-Christmas but merry pieces (Right now they're playing the German Dance by Mozart which - in very simplified form - was one of the first pieces I ever learned back in January when I started piano lessons)

It keeps me a LOT happier sitting in my office and grading.

You know, on re-watching a few of the old Chipmunks bits on YouTube, I'm struck by how clever a lot of the 60s cartoons were (well, we knew that already about Bullwinkle). But even a simpler, perhaps more obviously child-oriented show, had an underlying sort of cleverness to it. There were different layers, like there sometimes were on Sesame Street, where there was stuff the kids liked but stuff their moms would also chuckle over.

I will admit to having watched the 80s incarnation of the Chipmunks (even though I was in high school at the time) and from what I remember, it wasn't as "clever" in that sense...it was very obviously aimed at children, it seemed to view life from the perspective of the Chipmunks, where the 60s version seemed to have more of Dave's perspective. The 60s show seems now to me like something adults could and would watch and enjoy. (Wasn't it on in prime-time, in its original run? Like the Flintstones were?)

With a few exceptions, I don't think cartoons are as well-written and as "smart" as they used to be. Of course the classic example are the Looney Tunes, which weren't really aimed at kids at all, but were shown in movie theaters along with movies (but kids still enjoy the whole rabbit-season-duck-season bits. If that's still allowed to be shown on tv, with the guns and all).

I wonder if the huge explosion of channels - along with the thriving dvd market - has actually led to there being more cartoons but of poorer quality. Or maybe the advances in animation - where you can rather quickly and cheaply make a CGI type product - have led to a lot of lazy studios just putting stuff out because they think it will sell toys or dvds, and not thinking that much about storyline because, "They're just stupid kids."

I know I said a while back that I was disturbed by the fact that I knew there were a few minor errors in the Crest 'O' The Wave scarf I was knitting.

But once I got it done, and saw how nice and long it came out (I don't like short scarves; I like to be able to wrap them at least once around my neck), I decided the errors didn't really matter:



It blocked really beautifully. This was almost an entire skein (I think I stopped with about 15-20 yards left over) of Dream in Color "Starry" yarn. (I think one skein of that yarn is somewhere on the order of 450 yards).

The knitting was very simple - just the old "Crest o' the wave" pattern (knit four rows knitting every row, then for rows 5, 7, 9, and 11 you k1 *k2tog, k2tog, yo, k1, yo, k1, yo, k1, yo, ssk, ssk, k1* and for rows 6,8,10, and 12, you purl). I added 2 garter stitch (knit every row) stitches at the edges to cut down on rolling after the scarf was blocked, and I both started and ended with the four "plain knit" (garter) rows for the scarf. And I did three repeats of the pattern across the scarf. (I have no idea - and am not going to take time to count - how many repeats of the pattern it took to make up the length of the scarf).

Here's a close-up. One of the nice things about some of these Shetland laces is that they naturally go into waves or points at the ends:



I like knitting these old, old patterns. With the number of knitters that there are out there, and with the fact that nearly every stitch pattern book contains them, I doubt they are in any danger of going extinct, but I also like to feel like it's honoring the past and Those Who Went Before a little bit to knit something in an old, old pattern. (As I've said before, I tend to fancifully imagine my Irish and German and Scots forbears knitting - perhaps the Scots ones even knitted this very pattern. (The Germans probably would have knit something different; every culture seems to have slightly different traditional stitch patterns).

I have to say, one thing I like about the old Mavica camera - as clunky and dinosaur-like as it may be compared to more recent models - it has a really good timer function, so I can photograph myself without having to resort to the old mirror trick.

And a nice thing about being a bibliomane is that you always have a convenient way of building a "tower" to set the camera on so it is at the right height so the top of your head does not get cut off, or you don't inadvertently photograph the (ahem) teetering stack of magazines next to your chair when you're trying to photograph yourself.



One I just read (Mauve), three I'm sort of in the process of reading ("Water from the Well," "The Whiskey Rebels," and "Lark Rise to Candleford" - that's the really giant Folio Press book (and a gorgeous book it is) on the bottom of the stack), a couple I've not started yet.

The Beatrix Potter book, in particular, I'm very excited about - a friend of my family (the one I saw at Thanksgiving) is a retired geographer from Great Britain and is a tremendously interesting person (she is, I'm guessing, late 80s-early 90s. She was in Britain during WWII and while I don't think she was "officially" a Land Girl, some of the duties she carried out sound very much like what they had.) She is also a book lover and someone who really hunts through the discounter catalogs like Daedalus and Edward R. Hamilton and when she sees something someone she knows would like, she buys it for them.

She knows of my fondness for Beatrix Potter (and yes, I do consider Potter to be one of my heroines: a writer and naturalist and someone who didn't follow the "expected" path of that day of marrying young and for property - she was in her late 40s when she married (after her first love died of leukemia) and from all accounts I've read, it was for love. And she was a great countrywoman and was interested in preservation of the countryside and things like traditional sheep breeds).

So she bought me the Potter book (Actually, I think she read it first then passed it on to me, but as she doesn't write in her books and takes good care of them, it's like getting a new book). She noted that this book talked a lot about Potter's natural history work, so it should be very interesting. (And it was a book I didn't even know existed.)

This has been a really bad fall for migraines for me. I'm hoping that it's just because it's been a wet fall, with lots of mold (mold, especially the kind that grows on old leaves or rotting wood, can really trigger bad ones for me) and it's not something new and different - some kind of weird allergy that's not been diagnosed, or the start of The Dreaded Change, or something else going funny with hormones.

I had one today. Granted, there were several obvious triggers: there's supposed to be a big cold front hit tomorrow (everyone in my family, we have sinuses like barometers). The classroom where I taught this morning had a bad bulb in the projector I was using and it flickered (flickering lights can trigger migraines*), and then, when I took my car out for the so-it-won't-self-immolate recall repair, they had the bay doors closed (it's a cold day) and car exhaust was seeping into the waiting area. (I could have asked to move somewhere else, but I could just BARELY smell it, and I have a bloodhound nose, so I figured it might have been excessive to ask. And besides, it took them less than 1/2 hour - once the car was in the shop - to effect the repair)

(*I find that interesting, as epileptics often have problems with flashing lights at particular flash frequencies. I've read that there are some similarities in electrical activity between a migraine and epileptic problems. Presumably, anti-seizure drugs might help with migraines - I've read that too - but I tend to be unwilling to go on meds for something that happens fairly infrequently)

So when I got back home, instead of finishing the final marking (which I had begun) of the ecology papers, I had to take an Excedrin Migraine and go to bed. When I finally felt like my head wasn't going to explode, I got up, and tried another trick I had heard: keep the feet hot and the head cold. I put my boiled wool slippers on over the wool socks I was wearing, and put a coldpack on the back of my neck (which seemed the most comfortable place; it still made me shiver. When I have a migraine, I get cold.)

Remarkably, that seems to have worked the best of everything (I didn't take the Excedrin Migraine in time; usually I have to take it within 20 minutes of starting the headache).

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A little Christmas something. I was listening to KING-fm's "Christmas" channel in my office this morning and they had a really sweet arrangement of "Christmas Don't Be Late" (also known as the Chipmunk song). It was arranged to sound like a Strauss waltz, almost, which was funny and wonderful.

And it made me think of the original song.

I know, some people LOATHE the Chipmunks, and I think I would if I had to hear the song on regular rotation (like if I were working retail and it was on the soundtrack the store played). But a few renditions of it in a season remind me of my childhood.

Alvin and the Chipmunks - the original version of the show - was off the air (IIRC) before I actually made the scene on this Earth, but one of the indie channels in the town where I grew up used to show re-runs of it after school. And because it was a cartoon, I watched it. (Frankly, the Clyde Crashcup segments were more favorites of mine than the Chipmunks were - and almost no one remembers Clyde Crashcup now)

So here's the original cartoon version of it. No cuted-up 1980s chipmunks, none of the recent CGI 'munks, it's the plain old "flat style" cartoon with the cheap-o animation like what I grew up watching. To me, this is quite nostalgic:

One of the things I finished over break were the "Angee" socks from the Cookie A sock book:



It's hard to get a good photo of the stitch pattern - it's sort of a lace that looks (to me at least) like waving leaves of grass or maybe cattail leaves. The fact that it's a dark variegated makes it hard to photograph.

Here's another shot of it:



Maybe it's a bit easier to see the stitch pattern in side view.

The yarn is a Fibra Natura (named, ugh, "Yummy." I don't like names like that applied to things that aren't actually edible. And I don't even like "yummy" as a word applied to things that are). It's 100% wool but is very tightly spun, which I think will make it hold up well.

I was afraid I was going to run out, and these socks do take a bit more yarn than some I've made, but I wound up with a bit left over.

I also started the Lepidoptera mitts. I really like this pattern and could see making a couple more pairs in the future as gifts:



(Heh. And in that photo, at the upper left, you can see the stack of 20-some ecology research papers that were my main focus of the day yesterday: I read through them all once, read through them all again and put comments on them, and then today I am going to go through them yet again and assign point values. I figure it's best to grade that way because these are "big" papers (worth a lot of the grade) and the students deserve to have me take some time on them. But I put in a total of probably 6-7 hours on them yesterday, and will put in a couple more today)

Other than that, it was a semi-eventful day. My furnace was doing the "Now I'm lit! Now I'm not!" game again, which ultimately leads to a "lockout," where it will not light for three hours at a go (it's a safety feature, I guess). So I called the furnace guys and, to my surprise, they had time yesterday afternoon to come out and look at it.

I told them the symptoms but then left them to work - I graded papers in the other room and tried not to eavesdrop on what was said (it's like being at the dentist, and having him go "hmmmm" as he looks at a tooth: you expect it's something bad).

It turned out to be the least of the possible problems: oxidation buildup on the sparker. (That happened once before, several years ago). They cleaned it off with some emery paper and re-taped one duct that looked a bit leaky, and then tested the furnace and found it good. (And it's still good, at least as of this writing). I know in some of my DIY home-care books it says the homeowner can do the oxide removal themselves, but as it involves reaching into a furnace and disconnecting a part that is electrically connected, I'd rather pay the cost of a service call (they only charge the cost of a basic visit when it's something simple like that) than risk doing it myself.

I also got a recall notice on my (10 year old) car. It is something to do with the "speed control deactivation switch" (which is apparently a risk even in cars without speed control, for some reason). Brake fluid, it says, can leak onto it and cause a fire.

It's a rather sternly worded thing; they tell you not to park your car near a house or in a garage until it's fixed. I figure that since I've been bouncing over back roads, and parking in tall dry grass, and all of that, for years, I'm probably fairly safe. (But I am still going to try to get out this afternoon to get the fix done, if I can make time).

Incidentally, my parents got the same recall notice - they had the same model car, a few years older than mine. But they don't have it any more - they turned it in for Cash for Clunkers and I presume it's already been melted down. (I'm not sure what their receiving the notice says about either Ford's or the Cash-for-Clunkers record-keeping system).