I am happy to see that the Annual Bloggers' Silent Poetry Reading is continuing again this year, scheduled for February 2. (Groundhog Day, or Candlemass, or St. Brigid's Day, or Imbolc, or February 2, depending on what tradition(s) you follow).

I've got one picked out. Perhaps a slightly different direction than in the past but one that pleases me.

I finished the Pie Crust Pileup quilt. These photos are NOT good, it has been so grey out. I tried finding a place to hang it up in the house to photograph it but I couldn't find enough pushpins and the bulldog clamps (my original idea: clamp it over the top of a door) were too small.



So I had to go outside to take a picture. The colors look a lot less vibrant here than they do in real life. It could be though that we're just at the point of the year where all the life gets sucked out of everything. I don't normally react badly to winter - in fact, I tend to love winter - but something about this month has gotten to me.

As always with these photos, it's hung sidewise so it won't drag the ground. (And I was NOT going to put it on the ground to photograph it; there are wet half-decayed leaves everywhere and it's kind of squelchy in my back yard right now).

Here's a close up. Maybe the colors show a bit better here:



These were some fairly deep-in-the-stash fabrics. I really do need to try to put a moratorium on fabric buying and work the stash down. (I think I will allow myself one trip out, on my birthday, to McKinney...if I can find Quilt Asylum (they are moving and I am not that familiar with McKinney. I hope their new space is not a disimprovement; I pretty much liked the location where they were at, it was very open and friendly).

I have pulled out one of the bundles of 2 1/2" strips. They are from the line called "Hill Country Spring" or somesuch (Hill Country as in Texas). Some bandanna prints, lots of prints with bluebonnets in some form. (Lots of repeat fabrics...obviously this was a line with far fewer than 40 different fabrics). I'm going to do a framed four-patch with these, which has the nice benefit of minimal cutting before you can sew.

I miss working on quilt tops. It seems I've been so busy lately. I can't quite make the time during the week to even spend a little time cutting on pieces or something. (Part of it, I'm sure, is that my sewing room is on the east side of the house...so once the sun starts going down, it gets dim in there, even with two lamps going. And at night, it's a little creepy with the uncovered windows. I need to get some new, more private blinds in there. I keep hearing the shrubs tapping on the window and thinking it's the Peeping Tom that allegedly was running around in this neighborhood for a while.)

I also have several completed ones ahead. I have to find a weekday afternoon when I can get away at a decent time (and also find out if Mary's Quilt Shop is still quilting tops...or failing that, find a more local-to-me person who does them).

If I had time enough and space enough and money enough, I'd buy a longarm machine and learn to use it. Though I suspect - based on how expensive they are - that unless you're going to either do it as a business, or you have a huge family to make quilts for, it's probably not really worth it. (Then again, if I really had time enough, I'd just hand quilt all of them. But there is never enough time to do what you really want to do, I think that's one of the most tragic things you learn as an adult.)

I also pulled out the Thermal that I haven't been working on at all this weekend...I'm not as far on it as I thought, I was remembering I put it aside from being reading-knitting or invigilating-knitting because I was close to the dividing part for the arms, but I'm not.

Now that I've written my Sunday School lesson for this week, it's off to my sewing room.

but first, a link to a super-cute spool pattern quilt. What a fun way to use up multicolored "strings" scraps - as the 'thread' on a series of 'spools." (I am a bit more literal-minded; if I did one of these the 'wood' part of the spools would have to be brown or tan).

Turns out, today is a "snow" day. (Even though there's no snow in sight). We're currently in a "donut hole" of non-freezing precipitation (if you believe the radar), where there's freezing rain north of us, and east of us, and southeast of us.

Here, the streets are wet but look navigable. However, they're predicting "wintry mix" later on today, and maybe they figured it was better not to bring people in to campus in the first place, if it would mean not getting them home safely. (Also, we do have a lot of commuters from north of here where it is bad).

I woke up around midnight (yes, I go to bed early enough that at midnight I've been asleep for a couple hours) to use the loo and I called the recorded information-line. At that point they had cancelled class so I turned off my alarm and went back to bed. Then I dreamed that they rescinded the snow day (I don't think they could actually do that), and when I woke up I wondered if I had just dreamed that they had called off class (considering that I heard no sleet/freezing rain coming down). So I got up and called again: still cancelled.

I have a stack of research-reading to do, plus a stack of student "positional" papers (which usually take careful grading, or at least the first and second ones do - by the third, the people who want to improve their writing have, and the people who don't have kind of given up). So I have things to do.

I'm going to be disciplined today and do a couple hours of research reading and get the papers graded, and then tomorrow I think (if it's not too cold in my sewing room*) I'm going to work on the current quilt top.

And I also have a nice new big fat book of bread machine recipes (AND I have some leftover buttermilk, which some of the recipes in the book call for), so I think I'm going to put a batch of bread in this morning so I can have fresh bread with my lunch.

(*My sewing room is a former screened porch that was enclosed at some point. It's not that well insulated compared to the other rooms, and it is at the very tail end of the ductwork for the heating system and so it's usually the coldest spot in the house in the winter, and because of all the stacks of fabric I am leery about setting up a space heater in there.)

Yeah, talkative today. I'm kind of hyper - I always get hyper before a Big Weather Event (and I did as a kid, when there was a chance of a S*N*O*W D*A*Y)

Two things:

first, not spam, Lynn. My spam policy is this: if you're a regular commenter or someone I know as a regular reader, and you post a link to something referenced in the post (or even if you're NOT a regular commenter/reader and you post a link like yours) it's not Spam, it's Helping.

It actually would not have occurred to me to go "Hey, I could buy some inexpensive but not-explicitly-sold-for-embroidering-on cotton pillowcases from Amazon or somewhere." Sometimes I have little donut holes in my common sense.

However, if it's someone I DON'T know, and they post a link wildly unrelated to what I have been saying (ESPECIALLY if it's to an online dating site), then it's Spam and I hope the Karma Fairy poops on them.

Anyway.

****

I'm in a fairly good mood right now. And I don't think I'm going to be doing the usual Valentine's Day omphaloskepsis/whining. No, not because I have a new man in my life or anything...I actually figured out my distress with the day:

"Here is a holiday, and yet I cannot find any way to celebrate it that works for how I live. I am left out."

SO I thought: how to make myself feel not-left-out and have some fun with the day? And I remembered the silly little cards - you know, the ones that were common in the 1970s-1980s in grade school? (And earlier, I'm sure, that's just my experience)

You know the ones, with silly puns on them?

Like this?:



Well, it occurred to me that a number of the people I am "friends" with on one of my Ravelry groups are (a) not shy about sharing their mailing address with a relative stranger and (b) like me, unlikely to receive an actual valentine this year. So I made the offer: hey, if you want a silly valentine with a picture of SpongeBob or a duck on it, send me your address and I'll send you one.

I got a nice response. Not an unwieldy one (I was secretly afraid, having made the offer, of being smacked with 100 requests). And you know, it makes me happy...I went out and bought a couple boxes of cards, I have my list of addresses at the ready when it gets a bit closer to the day. I feel like I'm doing something to celebrate the day, and maybe, by being a bit silly and funny and celebrating friendship, I'm kicking a little sand back in the eye of the bully that says ONLY ROMANTIC LOVE MATTERS YOU IDIOT.

And you know? I do have some cards unspoken for. So if you'd like to get a valentine with a fuzzy animal and a bad pun on it, and you're comfortable e-mailing me your address...I'd be happy to send one out. It will give my mailman something to think about.

I don't think I'll quite go ALL the way and buy one of those big cans of "red" flavored Hi-C and cupcakes with pink frosting, like we had at grade school Valentine's parties. But it does make me happy to do a little something to mark the day, a little something to celebrate.

Heh.

It's been quite a while since I posted a LOLcat here (and yes, although the cool "popular" sorts may have deemed them passé, I still like them)

But this one made me laugh, and also pretty accurately demonstrates how I am feeling about one of the "skill building" pieces (it is from "Sportacular (ugh) Warm-Ups") I am learning for this week:


see more Lolcats and funny pictures

Thank you all for the nice comments. Perhaps I am actually more "popular" than I think I am.

Popularity is a strange concept. I think the reason I craved it - and think I still do - is in part, that it was so mysterious. As the anonymous commenter said, some kids were popular just because they were. In some cases, I think it was a matter of confidence - of seeming like you "should" be popular. I didn't have that confidence. In some cases, the kids probably "deserved" their popularity: they were attractive and well-dressed, they were good at sports, they were generally nice to people. But there were other cases, of kids who, you might say, talked the talk but didn't walk the walk. I remember a few popular girls who had really fooled the teachers into thinking they were nice kids and all, but wow, the things they would say to other kids when the teachers' backs were turned. Or the rumors they'd start and then disavow.

And I think, because I believed on some level that life should be "fair," it seemed wrong to me that a ratty-acting person could be popular, and could get away with stuff like, for example, referring to my friend Sarah as "trailer trash" (the first time I ever heard that phrase, and while she and her family DID live in a mobile home, "trash" was not a word that should have been applied to her). It seemed to me, even then, that in a just world, people like Sarah and my friend Debbie, and, perhaps even me, would be the popular ones....and the girls who spread rumors and teased other girls to the point where their stomachs would knot up just because they saw their tormentor coming down the hall...well, they wouldn't be.

So perhaps it IS a bit of ego on my part. And a bit of jealousy.

Actually, popularity is kind of like celebrity, I guess. There are some folks who are famous 'for cause' - they are good musicians, they do amazing sports feats, or they make good movies. But of late there's also been a trend (or maybe there always has been and I'm just noticing it now) of people who are famous because...well, they're FAMOUS. It's almost an Emperor's New Clothes sort of thing - everyone says that person X is famous and important, and people don't want to look like idiots or hicks, so they go along with it.

I guess the other thing I think popularity would give/would have given me is a sense of approval. I know, having a hundred yes-men around you is not equal to having one real friend who will tell you, for example, that something you are doing is wrong and you should stop it. But I've been in enough situations in my life where I wrote something, or did an art project, or made something else, and I thought it was pretty good, actually, and then when I presented it for someone else's approval, they tore it apart. And there have been other times when time or other pressures prevented me from making what I would consider the best effort, and I got high praise for something I believed to be half-hearted at best...and that, plus other things that happened in my past, have taught me the lesson of Don't Always Trust Your Own Judgment. And so, for better or for worse, I tend to seek "approval" from outside sources. And I think, popularity would be like the ultimate approval: a critical mass of people find you interesting and that what you are doing is good.

(You can imagine that reading the faculty evaluation comments every semester is pretty painful for me. I've been told by people that if you are 50-50 or better on the ratio of positive:negative comments - and I am - that you are doing a good job. But I still can't quite let go of those negative ones, even when they're NOT "constructive" criticism or when they're things I really had no control over and can't fix).

So I don't know. As I said earlier, perhaps craving "big knit blogger" popularity - when I do have a solid cadre of readers who like my stuff - is sort of a form of ingratitude, not seeing those readers for who they are. Kind of like the person at the party who is talking to someone but scanning the crowd for someone "more interesting" or prettier or who can advance their career more.

At any rate.

Revenons a nos moutons (one of my favorite idiomatic sayings, in any language. It literally means, let us return (to tending) our own sheep. Essentially "stick to your knitting" but not quite so imperative)

I've been working on various things...the Mystery Project (which I will photograph and put up here when it's done; I don't think the recipient reads here and even if she did, she wouldn't know it was for her). I'm also knitting on a pair of Kew socks (from Knitty). I like them but I think they will take aggressive blocking to make the edging work when they are done (right now, it wants to fold over).

And I keep looking longingly at my quilt fabric. Perhaps this weekend I will make time to work on the Pie Crust Pileup that has been sitting on my table for several weeks.

*****

Two other comment responses (if you've read this far):

to the anonymous commenter: I have not found a good source for 100% cotton pillowcases. In some cases I have made my own: it's not that difficult and if you get the slightly heavier quilting muslin, it makes good sturdy pillowcases that you can still embroider well on. (You could probably also make LINEN pillowcases, if you felt like spending the money - and washing the linen a few times to soften it up).

And Charlotte: the monster teeth are cut from white felt. The pattern suggests gluing them on but I stitched them on with white thread and a small running stitch because I tend not to like the stiffness that a large area of glue lends.

*****

Weather is unsure here. For three days they were selling the OH NOES GIANT ICE STORM and telling us to prepare to have "alternate sources of heat" if the power went out. Now they're saying we MIGHT get a little sleet.

While I'm grateful that we're not going to get hit hard, it looks like north of us it's going to be BAD. (I have a couple students who commute from McAlester). I hope TPTB, if it gets bad north of us and driving is unsafe, decide to cancel tomorrow and give the commuters a break.

(And I wouldn't complain about a Friday snow day myself. It's early enough in the semester that I could catch back up if necessary).

I did run out to the grocery yesterday afternoon (it wasn't bad yet, but I bet today it will be) and bought more milk and the few things I might have bought on a Saturday-morning trip, just in case the roads here are slick Saturday morning. And I did my laundry last night (Yes, I'm still having to stick the hose out the screen door, I'm still on Plumber-Watch) in case it gets really cold and would be kind of miserable to have that door open tonight or tomorrow.

So I'm as ready as I can be for bad weather.

(image from "FreeFoto.com," apparently copyright-free or at least free for this usage of it)

It's my eighth blogiversary!

I remember my eighth year (I mean, of my life) as being a fairly happy year: I had some skills (reading, basic math, I could do basic hand-sewing, I could crochet, I was able to identify a few plants and bugs). I could climb trees, I was fairly good at kickball, I was excellent at hide-and-seek. I was old enough to have passed most of the stormy tantrummyness of being a younger child, but was not yet stuck in the teenaged years. (My teenaged years were not so bad, actually, with the exception of the thirteenth.)

I would have been in third grade; third grade was a fairly happy year. Mrs. Irish was my homeroom teacher, she had red hair and was nice and was interested in science. I went to school in the big old Hudson Elementary - a big old, three-story brick school (not unlike the school shown in "A Christmas Story"). It had hissing radiators and I remember climbing up the stairs - all the way up - to my homeroom in the corner (I think it was the northeast corner, if I'm not misremembering) of the third floor.

I also remember quite fondly doing spelling words. The way they did it was they paired us off - I think I often paired off with a girl named Becky (? maybe, maybe it was Beth) who had a similar imagination and sense of humor to me. And the idea was, you learned these words by putting them into sentences. We had a long, on-going story involving Little Red Riding Hood, the Big Bad Wolf (who actually was not so bad, at least in our story), the Three Little Pigs, the Woodman, and Red Riding Hood's Grandma. I remember we were actually allowed to go sit on the steps - or out in the hall - to do the work, and how we would make ourselves giggle over the silly stories. And how we could pick up the "next installment" the week after the previous one.

it's funny that I remember that all these years later. I think it's because it's such a happy memory, me just being turned loose to sort of riff on words and be creative.

And really, that's what I do here, I guess. I really like playing with words. I have a pretty large vocabulary (Probably those early years of the Red Riding Hood Adventures helped with that, and all the SSR (silent sustained reading) I did in school). And words are fun to play with.

I've said on several occasions that I found the craft blogs where people actually wrote - wrote about the process or about their inspiration for a project or their feelings or their lives - were far more interesting to me than the blogs that were either just catalogs of finished products, or, as is the case in some cases I've seen, just really advertising for the designer's patterns or for the yarns they sell. (That's not to say I don't enjoy blogs written by shop owners - I regularly read the Simply Socks Yarn Company's owner's blog, because she writes about more than just, "Hey, this new yarn that knitters love to fight over is coming into stock in my shop in two days, get your F5 keys ready!")

And as a few of the nice commenters I've got in the past couple days have said, I guess other people like my playing with words as well.

And you know, the eighth birthday of my little blog brings up another issue: the whole issue of popularity. It seems to me that third grade was probably the last year (sadly) where popularity was not an issue; where I really didn't care what other people thought of me. I had my friends, I liked my friends. Like other little kids I got teased, but I don't remember the teasing as becoming particularly harsh until later on. (Thirteen. Thirteen, in my experience, is a horrible age to be if you are a sensitive sort. The people around you are mature enough to know what to say to push your buttons, but are not yet mature enough to have developed the tact not to say the very worst things. [and sadly, some folks never quite develop that tact or empathy.])

I don't know. I think from time to time about popularity, my seeming desire for it, and the fact that I never have been, really, truly, popular.

I remember once as a kid, telling my mother (tearfully, I think) that I wished I was popular at school - or rather, "I wish everyone liked me for who I was." Even then I knew that changing myself to be more popular - even if I would succeed - would be a hollow victory.

But really, I would like to be popular. I would like to feel well-liked. (Oh, I know I am, at least among the people who really know me). I think a lot of that is the shadow of the little kid, who somehow changed from a happy and fairly secure 8 year old to a 12 and 13 year old who felt that none of her peers cared about her, and that, in fact, she existed mostly as a target for their scorn.

Sad, really, how you can let junior high experiences serve as somewhat of a template for the rest of your life. (Junior high should be abolished! I really think so some days. It's a miserable time - it was for me, it was for my brother, it seems to have been for the kids in my Youth Group.)

So, though I still carry around with me the memories of the funny clever 8 year old who could put herself and her friends into gales of giggles with silly stories, I also carry around the 13 year old who ate lunch alone most days after her supposed-BFF got invited to join the "popular table."

It's funny, looking back, I really wasn't unpopular ALL of my childhood, though when I was, it sure colored my worldview, making me think that there had to be something wrong with me because people either teased me or ignored me.

And you know, I still feel that from time to time. Part of it is that somewhere, I have internalized the idea that good = popular, and therefore, the corollary, if something is not popular, it must not be good.

Hrm. I don't always feel that way about books and movies: I've experienced a few popular pieces that either did not move me in the way they seemed to move others, or, of which I said outright, "What? *I* could do better than that!"

But you know, it occurred to me the other day, another thought: Perhaps longing for popularity is a form of ingratitude.

After all, I have friends. Longing for more means I overlook those I have. I get a few comments now and then. Longing for more means I am not appreciating those I get.

The grass always seems greener on the other side. It probably isn't, actually. I thank my lucky stars I've never had a comment-stalker, or someone who was openly and brazenly rude to me, or who did excessive spamming, or any of the problems that some of the wildly popular knitbloggers have to deal with.

And maybe, really, since I tend to celebrate peace and quiet in my everyday life - and I really am truly thankful that I don't have any "ex drama" in my life. And that I have managed to avoid most bad forms of trouble. That my general reticence and tendency to be able to imagine the consequences of something before I do it have kept me a life that is peaceful and quiet: my only dealing with the police was having to report a sprinkler stolen out of my front yard.

And so maybe I should just transfer that gratitude for peace and quiet to how I feel like the blog: I may be in a little backwater here, but you know, there's a pretty weeping willow that grows on the bank, and there's enough shade, and once in a while there is a family of ducks that comes by. And maybe, if I'm very lucky, a deer comes out of the forest to drink at the little backwater pool.

Maybe trying to be out fighting the current of popularity is really not all it's cracked up to be.


Oh, and another thing that eight brings up: the Magic Eight Ball. Let's ask it a little question:

"Is this blog going to continue?"



Eight Ball says: "Signs point to YES."

Thanks for reading, thanks for commenting, thanks for your support. I probably wouldn't still be doing this without the nice readers and commenters I get.

Last week's photos (of Tufnel and Hrumph) were not the end of the projects-finished-over-break. There are still a couple of monsters! (And one last thing I'll show later this week).

The two remaining monsters are from Rebecca Danger's "Dangercrafts" line of patterns (She has an Etsy shop)

Meet Charmaine:



Charmaine is a happy monster. She likes peonies and cherry blossoms. She enjoys playing Scrabble and likes silly jokes. She is a very girly monster; she has a "diamond" belly button ring (actually a vintage button from my grandmother's button box) and mascara, and her eyes match her pelt.

I did break one of my little rules here: normally I do not name "critters" the same name as someone I know. But I think the "real" Charmaine - a former co-worker of my dad's and a friend of the family - would not mind; she'd probably be amused.



And this is Tootles Ash. Or as he likes to style himself, The Honourable Tootles Ash. Despite his rather rough appearance, he is quite a scholarly monster and likes to spend time among books. He is also very interested in herb gardening.

Tootles is a particularly cuddly monster; the yarn I used for him is Paton's "Mosaic," which I think has since been discontinued (At least, I don't see it for sale any more). It makes excellent monster skin.

And here is a "family portrait." I've decided that all of these monsters have to be cousins, despite their very different appearance, because there's something about the eyes and the mouth that suggests they must be related:



(Albert is the monster in the middle; he is the first one I made off the Dangercrafts patterns I bought.)

Tomorrow is my blogiversary. (The good news is I don't think it was a cold I had after all, just really BAD allergies. Taking a loratidine tablet and a guafenisin tablet (to deal with the congestion) seemed to stop it). I'll have to keep thinking of something deep or clever to say.

My blogiversary is this week. I guess this makes 8 years, now?*

Hopefully I will think of something insightful to say. Or if not insightful, at least clever, on the occasion. Though right now I'm drawing a blank as to what I could say.

That may be partly because I think I have started in with a cold today. Sore throat, catarrh (that sounds SO much better than "post-nasal drip"), my head feels congested, I'm tired, and I have that brain fog I always get when I'm on the cusp of getting sick.

I drank a big mug of hot tea with "Bavarian wild berries*" in it (total vitamin C content: 0 per serving) with lunch, and I'm going to make my slightly-spicy chicken-and-mushroom broth for dinner (chicken broth cooked with a couple good slices of fresh garlic, a goodly shot of vinegar, a tiny bit of cayenne pepper, and some garlic, and with mushrooms cut up and simmered in it.

The only thing that's really bothering me right now is the "brain fog." Hopefully that will go away shortly as the cold progresses.

(I strongly suspect they are neither truly wild nor truly Bavarian; I probably would have paid a lot more for the tea if they were.)

(*The jealous and not very nice part of my personality is whining that I've been writing lots longer than OTHER knitbloggers out there, why don't I get more comments. And my Inner Critic responds (predictably) with a "because you suck, compared to them?" Lynn isn't the only one who feels Internetally ignored some days.)

It does seem that the older I get, the more "downtime" I need. This is unfortunate and I hope the increase (if there is a further increase) is slow.

But I needed this weekend off. Saturday was partly necessities, and partly fun. I had to do a bit of a restock (some of the things I buy in semi-bulk I was running down on. I don't know why but I find it oddly comforting to haul home a giant 12-pack of paper towels, or an 18-pack of t.p. I suppose part of it is the "thank goodness, I won't have to worry about running out of this for a while." The stuff lives in my guest room closet, which is kind of my overflow pantry. [Well, it could be worse; one of the cookbooks I have, the authors confess to having THEIR "pantries" in boxes from the Wanamakers that were stored under their beds. Then again, I don't live in a tiny apartment like Holly Golightly*])

(*that movie was on again today. And dangit, I've now started crying at the end of it instead of rolling my eyes like I used to. That is not an improvement in my mind)

I also made it to the bookstore - and they had the new Knitscene.

My assessment: A very good issue. Quite a few things in here I'd consider making. Now, granted, my taste in knitwear runs toward the plain - I generally dislike doing colorwork, and I tend not to wear colorwork things (I will eventually make an exception for the Prince-of-Wales styled vest - meaning, one of the Edwards, the guy who became King between the wars - that is in Folk Vests. I am too much of an Anglophile to totally turn my nose up at that). And I don't like trendiness or things that seem "difficult" to wear. ("Difficult" in the sense of "If you exceed 25 years of age, a size six, or five feet tall, or any combination thereof, you will look ridiculous in it")

But there are a lot of wearable things in this issue. My hands-down favorite is the Tudor Henley - a simple, sort-of-thermal-stitch Henley pullover, but with some cable work on the cuffs (I think that's where the "Tudor" comes from). I also like the Beltane Tee - very simple, but I can see wearing it with a number of different things. And I like the Helleborus Yoke, though I fear it might look a bit bulky on someone like me.

There's also a whole section on knitting-in-the-round, aimed at newbies to that technique, but there is a very cute pair of fingerless mitts, and some nice lace socks. And another of my favorite designs is Carol Sulcoski's "Ribby Toque" - again, it's a very simple design, but it's very effective.

AND there is a section on triangular-shawl design, with three patterns showing three different construction methods.

So not only are there a lot of nice patterns in this issue, there is also a fair amount of good practical information (I particularly liked the section on designing triangular lace shawls).

***

I also did a grocery run, even though I had done a big one a couple weeks ago. I picked up a few not-readily-available-in-town items, including a tin of roasted walnut oil.

I suspect - though maybe it's groundless - some of my distress of late is that I'm not getting enough Omega 3 oil. I've read how it can help with brain function and mood, and I'm willing to try dietary changes that might help with mood. (And I hate fish. I'm sorry. I know it's good for me, I know I should be eating cold-water deep-ocean fish to stave off all kinds of degenerative illnesses. But. I do not like fish and have a very hard time bringing myself to even eat salmon, aka the fish that even fish-haters like. And I tried fish-oil supplements and the most polite way I can put it is to say they did not agree with my digestion.). So I figured walnut oil might help.

I had also read it was good for making salad dressing with, and I will admit one of my problems with salad of late is that I just get sick of the same darn thing...I have two or three varieties of commercial dressing I actually like, and while I try to rotate those, salad can get awfully tedious.

I don't like most commercial or restaurant vinaigrettes; they tend to be too sharp for me (either there is too much vinegar, or they use a cheap kind of vinegar that is harsh, or they use a less-mellow oil). But on the can of walnut oil, there was a simple recipe: four parts oil to one part balsamic vinegar, plus seasonings (they had mustard; I don't like mustard, so I used a pinch of a salad blend I had from Penzey's).

It was really good. I don't know if it was using the balsamic vinegar - which I find tends to be a lot less harsh - or if the good oil evened things out, or if the greater proportion of oil was the trick. But I can see making this dressing fairly regularly. (You do have to keep the walnut oil in the fridge to keep it from going rancid). And you can do other things with the walnut oil - while it's too expensive, I think, to use alone for sauteing, you could mix it with a larger amount of a plainer, less-expensive oil and use it for sauteing something like cut-up chicken (That would probably be good). And a bit drizzled on green beans would probably be good, too.

I tend not to twitch over spending money on "good" nutritious food in the way I might twitch over spending it on other things; I figure it's probably an investment in my health anyway.

****

I also picked up some floss I needed. And wound up "restocking" one of the yarns I had given away in the sock-yarn-rainbow for the Haiti auction: the "yellow" was a skein of the Lion Brand sock yarn in a rather bright yellow. Not everyone's color but I liked it and was a little sad to send it off.

Well, the Hobby Lobby was closing out a bunch of that color, for about $3.50 a skein. So I figured that was cheap enough to replace. And, I probably tend to take things symbolically too often, but I almost see it as a little "wink" letting me know I had done the right thing there, taking part in the auction. (Many, many times in my life when I have done something generous - even more than in this case, situations where the generosity actually "hurt" me a little - shortly thereafter, it "came back" to me in some way - either I got a monetary windfall that made up the money I had donated, or something good happened to me that I wasn't expecting...)

I do like being able to get out to craft stores once in a while, even if all I buy is a few skeins of floss.

***

I also did a bunch of work on various projects this weekend. The biggest thing is that I finished the first of the pansy embroidered pillowcases:



The second one is not so far along; I have nearly all the outlining and a bit of the cross-stitching left to do on it. But I do like doing these, and the finished product pleases me.

I also worked a bit on the quilt in the frame. And on the "secret" project. And I pulled out the pair of Mini Mochi socks that I started, and then pushed aside when I began to worry if the yarn was too softly spun to be durable for socks. I've turned the heel and done part of the gusset on this one, and while they may not be as sturdy as the harder-spun yarns (like Opal), I do think they'll hold up OK, thanks in part to my rather tight gauge, even with the size 1 needles. And I have been adding a bit of twist to the yarn as I go, trying to twist it further, in case that makes it stronger.

Still, they're pretty. Even if they don't last that long and I have to be careful of them. (I'm still not wild about the super-softly spun sock yarns, though: they don't knit up as easily and you have to be so careful not to split the yarn as you go.

I've done my hour's research work for the day (summarizing and tabulating the soil organism data from last year's samples). I'm going to try to work this up for at least a poster at the Prairie Conference this summer.

I'm taking this weekend off (except for babysitting my grad student's germination experiment - I would have to come up here to let her in [the university is not very amenable to giving keys to students], so I told her I might as well just do the little bit of care that it needs on the weekend. [Besides, when she came in today, it sounded like she had laryngitis. Maybe having a weekend off without having to leave the house much will help her recover]). I'm just kind of worn out and I think I haven't had enough "quality time" with the piano, or my quilt in the frame, or my various knitting projects, or the books I'm reading, this week, and it makes me cranky and sad.

I think I'm going to try sharply limiting my time online on the weekends; I can waste a lot of time surfing when I could be playing the piano or quilting.

I'm also going to do a little bit of retail therapy. No, not of the frivolous kind, really. I need more paper towels and some other stuff that's cheaper/brands I prefer at the Target, so I'm going to go to Sherman. Go to the Target, get the stuff I need there (including more of the nice Boots the Chemist rosewater "toner" - it seems like I'm breaking out again this winter (stress?) and that seems to help reduce it). And go to the bookstore, see if the new KnitScene is in. And go grocery shopping at a nicer grocery store (Kroger's) than what I have in town.

I might also hit the craft stores. I don't NEED anything (Though I think I'm out of navy blue floss) but I do like to look at what they have.

And I might take myself out for lunch, too. I think I just kind of need a day to myself, when I can be quiet and let my brain smooth itself out. (I am also coming off of period of lots of meetings, some in the evening, and that always stresses me more).

And tonight, I am going to go home, practice piano, take a shower, fix a decent dinner for a change (perhaps some of my recent distress is I've kind of having to be grabbing meals on the run), and then find something hopefully uplifting to watch (or, if not, put a CD in the stereo) and either quilt or knit until bedtime.

This is the ball of yarn that tangled so spectacularly yesterday afternoon.



I'm embarrassed to admit to how long I spent untangling it...I had to take it off the swift and pass the ball I was winding through individual strands to deal with the mess.

After I wound it into a ball, I decided that the ball was sufficiently tightly wound that it might stress the yarn, so I decided to re-wind it using the ball winder. (This also had the benefit of making the yarn into a nice neat little "cake" that wouldn't roll all over the floor while I knit with it.)

(one of my birthday requests, I think, is going to be a Carolina Yarn Bell for when I am knitting with yarn that is in a rolly ball.)

But the ball behaved like something alive when I tried to wind off the "cake." It bounced all over the floor, it wound itself around my ankles and the legs of the stool where I have the ball-winder attached. I put it in an open dresser drawer and it leaped back out. I put it in a box with other balls of yarn and it tangled with them.

Finally I got it wound off. But I admit, I'm a bit afraid to cast on with it. I think it may be possessed.

Plumberwatch: Day 3.

No one called to let me know anything.

Plumberwatch Day 4 starts tomorrow. I wonder if I need to go against my non-assertive nature and call them and ask where the heck my plumber is?

***

I tried to wind off a ball of sock yarn to start just a pair of simple socks. (My plan was, I would read journal articles this evening and knit). But I put it on the swift wrong, or it was mis-skeined, or something, and it turned into a giant tangled mess. I wound up taking it off the swift and having to untangle it by hand. So far, I think I am 2/3 done. I would work for a little while and when my eyes started straying towards the scissors in the room, I'd put it down and go do something else.

But gah. I hate that, when you are looking for one little thing to work out and be a little relaxing, and having it all go wrong. Maybe it was a message that I'm not supposed to knit right now, or not supposed to start new socks.

***
for a variety of reasons, this has not been a very happy day.

Another thing about the windows: They took out the old ones, and put in the new ones, from the outside: the person working indoors helped orient and level the window, and then put in the insulation around the frame, and then nail-gunned in place the new trim, and caulked them - but the windows themselves never had to be carried through the house (I thought that's how it would work, and had cleared big paths. And prayed that my floors didn't get too scraped up). It was actually less involved than I thought it would be - I thought they would have to remove the trim you see (around the window, and the sill) in order to put it in, but they actually worked from the other side.

The installers also hauled off the old windows as part of the installation cost. If I weren't concerned about the possibility of lead paint as one of the "base" layers of paint on them, I might have asked to keep one - to build a cold frame with. (When I was a kid, my mom had a cold frame for starting plants early in the spring that was made out of a window that the husband of a friend (who was in construction) salvaged for her).

***

I pulled out yet another "stalled" project: a pair of embroidered pillowcases I was working on a while back. The first one is very nearly done, the second one I still have a lot of "outlining" to do on.

I've said before I find this sort of thing soothing. In a way, it's like handquilting: your focus needs to narrow down to doing the next stitch, to making it the right size and going in the right direction. I think for me embroidery and hand quilting are more attention-consuming than most knitting (even lace knitting) is. And sometimes that's a good thing.

I said about a week ago (in the "lumper vs. splitter" post) that I sometimes get overwhelmed by the "bigger picture" of life. If I have too many things to be working on or thinking about I kind of tend to run in circles from thing to thing, not getting anything done and making myself even more frantic. (What I usually have to do, when I have lots of stuff to deal with, as I did on Tuesday, is to prioritize: sit down and figure out the most urgent thing, or, figure out what I can accomplish with the least effort, and do that first). But it does help, at the end of the day, to be able to sit down and work on something where the ONLY focus is on making the next stitch, and making it the same size as the other stitches next to it, and making sure it's the right color in the right place, and making sure that it's covering the printed line on the pillowcase. It's actually kind of a relief: "the only thing I have to concentrate on now is this fairly low-stakes thing, AND it is a thing over which I have control."

Plumber is supposed to come by today and check things out from the outside of the house. (He didn't call yesterday because he was on a job until 11:30 last night. I got the sense, though he didn't come out and say it, that it was not so much an urgent job or a large job but a very demanding homeowner that caused it to go so late).

After listening to my description, he said it might be as "simple*" as needing to replace part of the drain piping under the house.

(*that does not seem simple to me. I have a pier and beam house but still, if the sewer pipe has a problem when it goes into the ground under the house, would not that necessitate, I don't know, tearing down the house to get at the pipes? I certainly hope not - or if it comes to that kind of thing, that they can do a "bypass").

I hope it's a simple fix. At this point I'm not even hoping for "cheap." I have some money from a CD that came due that I just chunked in a small-amount-of-interest-bearing checking account with the thought that if a better investment came along, I'd invest the money. But I'm still gunshy about the economy. So I may be "investing" that money in my house.

Which come to think of it, my investments there, though they haven't paid off monetarily, have certainly paid off in my comfort and happiness, which I think is worth something.

It will be nice not to have to route the drain for the washer out the back door, and worry about "can I take a shower and run the dishwasher in the same 2 hour span of time?" And not having to worry every time I run the sink disposall, "Is this backing up somewhere and going to come back to haunt me later?"

I also fixed a problem with my health insurance yesterday. And (hopefully) fixed a problem with the credit cards - a payment I sent in over 2 weeks ago was never credited, so I stopped the check and did a "check by phone" instead (which cost me $10, I note with annoyance, but the interest I was racking up would probably be more than that by the time a new check I mailed got there and got processed.

Modern life works great when it works. When it doesn't, there are a lot of things to take care of.

So, the new windows (excepting the ones Lowe's mis-ordered) are installed.

Here's one, in the living room, before the blinds and curtains were put back up:



You might ask me stuff:

1. Was it worth it?

Well, it will probably be a while before I see savings on my utility bills. But I bet I will save money - the old windows were fairly drafty, I realize that now. And I get $1500 back on my taxes because these are the super-de-duper high efficiency windows. And maybe the place will stay cooler in the summer, with the low-e glass and the double panes and all.

2. But was it worth it?

From other perspectives, totally. First of all, I can already tell that it's quieter in here. Quiet is very important to me and it will be a joy to have a quieter house thanks to better insulated windows. And the windows look nice - I was afraid they would stick out like the proverbial sore thumb in my older house, but they really look like they "go." I think you'd have to be an Antiques Roadshow Curmudgeon to say that the windows "ruin" the integrity of the house or somesuch. And another thing, all of the ugly wooden bits that I kept looking and and thinking, oh man, I need to scrape and paint that some time are either gone or are covered over (the wood frames are still present on the inside, but they are fairly recently painted, so we're good there). All of the stuff that was getting weathered outside has been covered over with either the windows themselves or new wood, so it looks nice and clean and doesn't offend my aesthetic sensibilities any more. AND the windows seem to grant more privacy...the fiberglass screens on these seem "denser" than the old wire screens. The windows actually look greenish from the street because of the screens - which actually goes well with the house, as it has green trim.

Oh, and because they are low-e windows, they will cut down on fading of stuff in the house.

AND I can open the windows for a change. Only a few of the old windows would actually open, and those were hard to open. Which always worried me a bit: what if I woke up in the middle of the night and there was a fire, or there was a bad guy coming through the front door and I had to bug out in a hurry through one of my bedroom windows? If that happens now, I can bug out very quickly.

And come spring, I can open up all the windows and get a cross breeze. And if I have any misadventures in cooking, I can open the kitchen windows now to vent the stink.

3. Do you think you could have done the installation yourself?

Heck no. It takes two people minimum to do that, and I don't have anyone that is both sufficiently able-bodied and that loves me sufficiently much down here that I'd be able to ask to assist me. Getting the installation was totally worth it. Also, the installers knew what they were doing, and I wouldn't have, so not only would it have taken me longer, but it wouldn't have been as good a job. And I like these installers - I've had them for other stuff - so it makes me happy to be able to support them financially.

I watched the installers at work a bit yesterday. It was interesting to watch but not something I'd want to do. It takes considerable strength and probably more patience than I have. And also skill in cutting the various wood bits to the right size (the new fittings; the old ones - not sure what they are called but the "bars" that go alongside the windows - were pretty trashed).

And it makes a mess. Which the installers cleaned up. I hate getting a big job done and then realizing, "Oh man, I have to sweep up all the dust and crud I generated."

The installers did remark on how easily the windows went in - apparently the openings were pretty true to rectangular. I can see how it would be really hard if you had to do lots of shimming or if you found that the opening was a bit too small.

4. Would you use these installers again?

Heck yes. But I hope I don't have any expensive repair or replacement stuff for a while. (I do note that they do siding and someday I want to get my garage properly sided. But not right now, I feel too skint to pay for any more home reno other than what HAS to be done).

5. What was the worst part of the whole situation?

Dealing with the Lowe's bureaucracy. And the moving of furniture and taking down (and putting back up) of blinds. And feeling like I had to apologize for all the books and the stuffed toys sitting in the Papasan chair in my bedroom.

And another "worst" part, though of my own making: I chose to replace the blinds in the living room at the same time as I got new windows. Nice new Levolor blinds. Nice new blinds with the WORST flipping instructions on how to install I have ever seen. Seriously, if I didn't try fitting the blinds to the hardware before I put the hardware up, I would have put it up in the wrong orientation based on what the paperwork with the blinds showed. And the hardware was constructed so that it was essentially impossible to use a driver-drill to screw it in - I had to use an old, by-hand Phillips screwdriver. And while I have strong hands and all, it kind of hurts to have to screw screws into fir molding. Even after drilling guide holes first.

But anyway. I hope the plumbers do actually call today, that the addition of a "clean out" is not too expensive and is fairly easy, and that the remaining windows come in fast.

6. Would you recommend other people replace their windows?

It depends greatly. The windows I had were really old - 1940s vintage - and replacing them was partly so I didn't have to re-glaze and paint them. (The labor for that probably would have run close to the cost of new windows, I bet).

I will say this is probably a good time to do it, if you're thinking of it - I think the tax rebate is still active. I know the installers said they were amazed at how many window jobs they had done in the past couple of months; they think that people are choosing to renovate their homes rather than buying a newer one.

(An aside: as someone with frankly lots of stuff, and someone who tends to get attached to the place where she's at, I always thought the idea of buying a new house in your same town because you were tired of the old one was a little odd. I can see it if your life changes a lot - like if you have twins, or if you realize you need to have your aged parents move in with you - but I have also known people who moved house because they "wanted something new." To me, it seems a lot less life-disrupting to, I don't know, paint the walls a different color or something).

The second batch of windows is being installed (The installers most certainly won't be done until my class is over; two of the windows are the horrible painted-shut ones [painted shut before my tenure in the house, I hasten to add] and they will take a while to remove).

My bedroom SEEMED a lot quieter last night, much less street noise. I hope that's true and not just that it was an unusually quiet evening.

The plumbers also called; they will try to be out this afternoon to see about starting the process of putting in a cleanout. I know this is going to be expensive.

And on to more finished objects.

It was a fairly monster-ish break, considering the toys I knitted.

First off, Hrumph:



Hrumph is a grumpy monster. He is grumpy about just about everything. He is especially grumpy about the current state of television - because he has such stubby little legs, he can't move around all that much, and so television is his main entertainment.

He is knit from a Mochimochiland pattern, using KnitPicks "Palette" in the colors "wood" and "grass" (He may also may be grumpy because he doesn't get outdoors much).

And here's the second Mochmochiland critter:



This is the Evolving Punk. I was originally going to name him Joey (after the Ramone) or Sid (obvious). But after he was completed, he seemed less punkish than puzzled.

So I did a rename. His name is now Tufnel. As in this. (NB, gentle readers: some rude words).

Yes, I know, his namesake was really a heavy-metal musician (after being a skiffle musician and a folk rocker), but Tufnel really seems to fit this little guy well.

He's sad that my piano doesn't go all the way to 11. Or, for that matter, doesn't have amps at all. (Maybe I need to make him a tiny model of Stonehenge.)

He's made of the Palette too, in Navy and (IIRC) Red. (I was trying for British flag colors...the navy's a bit dark and the red's a bit off. But then maybe Tufnel is a bit off himself).

Both the critters were felted as per the instructions but apparently Palette just doesn't felt much. Or maybe I didn't knit to a loose enough gauge to see a big difference.

Of course, it's also kind of fun to play off the "personalities" of the two little monsters:



"Get offa my lawn, you punk kid!"

Trying not to "hover" over the installers, but also need to be available if they have questions (like: is there a plug in the garage).

So I'm surfing around, and I found this: what type are you. (You have to use "character" as the password up there on the upper left corner.

I'm Marina Script. Now, granted, this is all Barnum statements and it's based on self-assessment (I claimed to be emotional, understated, traditional, and disciplined, based on four questions with two choices each).

The font is sort of a copperplate (the site says it was developed in the 1930s), you can seen an example here.

The installers are supposed to be on their way right now.

Lowe's called me. However, as the person said, there's a problem. (When is there NOT?)

Lowe's ordered four windows in the wrong size. That's the bad news. The good news is that they are not the windows to go in my bedroom (which would have made me very sad, considering that I removed blinds and curtains and moved all kinds of stuff in preparation). The other good news is that though the right size will cost more, Lowe's is going to eat the cost. Which seems eminently fair to me.

The bad news is I may have to wait as much as 3 weeks to get all the windows finished. The ones that were ordered wrong are the "big" windows on the front of the house - the two in the dining room and the two big ones in the living room. Which actually are the easiest ones to get to for installation. So whatever.

I was polite to the woman at Lowe's and she thanked me for my understanding. But seriously, what can you do? I'm guessing it was someone either wrote a number down wrong or wrote illegibly and Pella misread what they were ordering.

At least my bedroom windows should be done at the end of the day.

Still no call from the plumber, though.

I will really be glad to be done with house-stuff for a while.

If all goes as planned, I should at least have SOME new windows by the end of the day.

I got up at 5 and moved stuff around in my bedroom, pulled down the curtains and blinds. I hope the installers are amenable to doing that room first as it is the one that involves the greatest disruption of my life (there is stuff strewn all over the bed, bookcases are moved, there are now no blinds on the windows). I figured that is also the room that will take the longest to put back together.

I have the day "off" for Martin Luther King, Jr. day. (Though my campus strongly encourages going out and doing volunteer work on this day. And I admit I feel a bit guilty about not doing volunteer work...but then again, I do volunteer work at other times.) I'm going to hope that they get all the windows in in decent time so I can put the blinds and curtains back up, and move things back to where they "should" be.

I'm thinking I might ask the installers to store any windows they don't get put in today in my garage - I can move my car out and it can sit out overnight. Stuff left out in yards has an unfortunate way of disappearing and after waiting as long as I did for these windows, I don't want to have to wait for a replacement order if any were to get stolen. (And yes, it's very commonly tools and construction supplies that go missing.)

****

We have a new minister at my church. He and his family arrived this week, his first sermon was yesterday. I think he'll be good. (I know there were people who had misgivings as they were "Yankees" - he is from Massachusetts and his wife is from the Pacific Northwest. Of course, I'm a "Yankee" too - and still am to some people - because of my Illinois/Ohio provenance. Funny, I always thought Yankees were people from rural New England).

I always feel like I get a better impression of people from unobtrusively observing them when they are not "on" - when they are in a more casual situation. During the music time before youth group last night (a couple of the 30-somethings have put together a small praise band and they play every Sunday night), I watched them. They had a lot of fun with the songs, they kind of "played around" (there is one where the women sing part and stand up, then the men sing part and stand up, and each was jokingly trying to keep the other from standing up (hands on shoulders, etc.). So they seem to have a sense of fun, which makes me happy. They also made a point of talking with the teenaged youth, and he came up especially to talk with them again during our lesson time, to let them know that if they ever had trouble or needed to talk, he was there.

Both the new minister and his wife are very tall. (They were sitting in front of me for the music time). Mrs. (who is a Reverend herself) is half-a-head taller than I am, and he is even taller - I'm guessing he has to be at least 6' 4".

***

I'm still working on the Mystery Project - I'm over 1/3 done and the due date of this item is mid to late February, so I have to keep motoring away on it.

I also re-started handquilting the quilt in the frame. This time I am not going to set any kind of due date for finishing it, because it seems like when I do that, I never meet the due date. I will say that I seem to work much better to deadlines for other people - like on this Mystery Project - because I feel a sense of obligation to the person. I guess it's like the old saying about the cobbler's children going barefoot: I can finish projects I am doing for other people, (Well, except for one notable test-knit project) but it's harder for me to finish something for myself.

There, I (hope I) fixed it:

This, ladies and gentlemen, is what is sometimes known on the Internets as a kludge:



I went out this morning and got a piece of tubing. It had a 1" inside diameter and the hose from the washing machine has a 1" 1/16 outside diameter. At first I thought I wasn't going to be able to link up the two, but by heating the tubing in really hot water (a trick I remembered from high school when the guys used to do it to shape their mouthguards for lacrosse), I was able to cram the washing machine hose in there.

Is it an epic kludge? I think that depends on if it works or fails. I will know in just over 6 minutes when the washer starts to drain. (My trial load: a small load of whites, including a pair of pajamas).

The worst possible failure would be if the pressure forces the extension off the hose, and then blows the hose back into the laundry room, where it would then spray all over. A minor failure (I moved the set-up slightly so the end of the washing machine hose is now actually outside of the door, rather than just inside it) would be for the extension to come off.

A success would be for the water to successfully drain.

I will know in a few minutes if my idea was brilliant or idiotic. So I will post an update shortly - either it will be gleefully triumphant or dejected and frustrated.

**UPDATE**

"I am so smart, I am so smart! SMRT I mean SMART...."



(Except I didn't do anything foolish like burn my diploma. Though I may have danced around a little when I saw the water successfully draining)

Yesssss! It worked. And I hasten to add, I use a "biodegradable" and phosphate-free detergent (well, for most things, and I'll use it until I get the drainage issue fixed) that doesn't have dye or perfume (skin sensitivity issues). So I don't think I'm doing TOO much damage to the natural world by draining my washer out into my side garden. At least, I hope not.

And maybe, just maybe, since I figured out a way around my main problem, that means the plumber guys will call on Monday and they will be able to very quickly take care of the problem in a permanent fashion.

There's a solution (sometimes more than one) to most problems.

I tried doing a VERY SMALL load of towels and still had the water bubble up in the bathtub. I really needed to do sheets - at least. And then I remembered: hey, the church has a washer and dryer in the kitchen. And I am mere blocks from the church.

(I really do not like laundromats, and a couple of the ones here that I have seen, it seems to me my clothes might come out more dirty than when I put them in)

So I called the church secretary (I know, some people believe in it being better to ask forgiveness than permission, but I tend not to be one of them). Almost before I finished explaining the laundry problem and before I could ask, she said, "Oh, you can just bring the stuff down here and do it." Apparently lots of people who have had washer/dryer problems in the past have done that.

So I did a load of sheets. I just washed them and then brought them home - my dryer still works fine and it saves me a trip to not have to go back and get them. But I'm thinking tomorrow I might go down there with a couple of loads (I have a load of whites, and while I could manage for a week or more without doing one, still, and I have a load of jeans. And I could do the "dirty" sheets that are currently on my bed) and run them in the washer AND practice piano on the fellowship hall piano while the stuff is washing, so I won't have to either run home and back, or sit over there and try to think of something to do in the semi-spooky empty church kitchen/fellowship hall.

Or I could drag a load down Sunday night and do it during Youth group. (Probably not a load with brassieres in it, though...)

It also occurred to me that the drainage hose from the washer is long enough and flexible enough that if I wanted to open my "back door" (it is right next to the washer), I could probably direct the hose out it and run the water out into my side garden - which right now is kind of trashed anyway from the cold weather and from my past inattention. Even better, I could probably get an extension from Lowe's or somewhere and just do that until I can get the drainage really fixed.

Though I probably would have to sit and babysit the hose and the door while the wash was running - the hose, so I could be sure it was positioned so it wouldn't spray into the house, and the door, so I could be sure one of my neighbor's Bumpas Dogs didn't come wandering into my house.

Or I could get a couple of large buckets and catch the water in them, then dump it outside. (If I can lift a bucket full of rinse water...)

Or I could just do small loads and put up with the occasional water back-up into the tub. I haven't decided yet. Sometimes a little icky problem is less of a problem than having to do a big elaborate set-up. I'll have to think about it. I'd almost rather have to scrub the tub out after the water finally does drain out (and it does; it's not that the line is totally blocked, it just can't seem to handle more than 10 gallons or so of water at once.)

This kind of thing is why I have no romantical feelings about the "simple life" where you live exactly like your grandparents did. My grandma had one of those old wringer washers that you had to fill with a hose from the kitchen sink and empty either into buckets or out the back door.

It's not a big problem, and I can cope with it, but I will be glad when I don't have it any more.

Totoro mittens

(pattern is free on Ravelry but you have to be a member to download it).

No, not mittens for Totoro, mittens with Totoro on them. I know that there are a few Miyazake-loving Ravelry members who might have missed this. I don't normally love doing stranded knitting very much but, oh! these are cute.

Totoro even has his umbrella! And his name worked into the cuff of the mitten.

Another over-break project.

Again, these were "simple" socks, in the sense of not having patterning over and above ribbing.



These socks have been to heck and back already - they were the ones I wore on my ill-fated train trip last week (golly, it WAS last week now when I was miserably trying to cope with the trip). They have, I hasten to add, been washed since, and don't seem any worse for the wear.

I knit them using Online "Cottage Color," which is more of a sportweight yarn - it is definitely heavier than the typical sock yarn. I used size "1 1/2" needles (some Pony Pearls I had which were between standard US 1s and 2s in size). The pattern is Nancy Bush's "Lichen Ribbed Sock" from her vintage sock book (the one that is a series of revampings of old Weldon's patterns.)

I really like this pattern; it's a little different. Both the heel turn and the toe are atypical compared to the socks I usually do. (Bush describes the heel turn as a Welsh heel. There is also a French heel - which is a bit rounder (round-heels. Giggle. Or does no one know what "round heels" means any more?) and the German/Dutch heel which is more square. I presume the names came because that style of turning the heel was commonly used in its particular country.)

This is the second pair of socks I made from the pattern, the first were from a Strapaz yarn:



They're simple socks, but like all the Nancy Bush patterns I've seen, there's an attention to detail - the "seamline" on the back of the heel flap originates out of one of the purl stitches on the ribbing, the 1 x 1 top ribbing melds perfectly into the 3 x 1 ribbing of the leg. Nothing is sloppy, nothing is done halfway and deemed "oh, it's good enough." And I like that. I like that about her patterns, that there's that little exactitude there.

***

I didn't really do much of anything last evening - I had an afternoon meeting, and then had to practice piano. And when I tried to do a load of laundry (a small load), I found that I'm going to need to get the plumbers out to install a "clean out" on my drain line sooner than anticipated - the drain water from the washing machine comes up some in the tub, which tells me the main drain line probably is partially blocked. (Gah, I hope it's not partially collapsed or anything like that). So today I will be calling them. It will be expensive but as we have seen in the world this week, it could be a lot worse.

***

Tangentially speaking of which, I'm going to brag on CPaAG and on myself a little. A couple people on there put together a quick mini-auction to raise money for Doctors without Borders for Haiti relief. The deal was, the successful bidder at the end of the auction made a donation directly, and then forwarded the receipt information to the donor, who would then send the item to them.

A lot of people put up stuff they had made - shawls and pens and gloves. (I actually bought a pair of gloves). I didn't have anything particularly special that was newly made and not worn, and I didn't want to promise a custom pair of socks or gloves (some people did) because I was afraid my busy life would keep me from getting them to the person in a timely fashion. Then I thought: I have lots of sock yarn. Knitters like sock yarn. I can bear to part with some of it.

I started digging in my stash, found a few nice skeins that either were colors I didn't wear much, or were colors that I already had socks in. Ultimately, I put together a "Sock the Rainbow!" with a color more or less representing each of the ROY G BIV colors. (The photo that I posted on Ravelry to advertise it is on my flickr page).

I was quite surprised at what it brought in. I won't post the amount here (to limit the seeming bragginess) but I was very pleased.

Parting with some of those will be hard (especially the "flamingo pie" Dream in Color - the orange one), but it makes it easier knowing that there's money going to help folks because of it. And anyway, I have lots of sock yarn, I won't miss these skeins.

I hope this bodes well for the semester: when I used the "stop and think" example out of the book (about hypothesis generation) concerning "your" co-worker Homer and the donuts all going missing, one of the students responded with "D'Oh!" after I read the example.

I like them to think they can have a little fun in the class. I don't find that kind of thing disruptive at all, and it's much better than having people stealth-text under the table.

I did also suggest "Lenny and Carl" as an "alternative hypothesis" and I think some of them thought that was funny.

(And it's a little shocking to realize that for most of them, they don't remember - or, in some cases, have never been alive during - a time when the Simpsons were NOT on television.)

I'm working on a big, but secret project (it's for a swap. The swap is to 'go' the middle to end of February). I'm starting to get concerned about getting the project done, so I broke down how many rows (based on the row gauge) I have left. If I average seven rows a day, I should be able to finish it well on time. If I can do more than that, even better.

So it's going to be like New Rule (which I have to re-institute at work - start doing the hour-a-day of research work, data analysis, or reading).

There's an old saying: inch by inch, it's a cinch; yard by yard, it's hard.

****

And that saying is actually not all that unrelated to my other topic.

Yesterday, Lynn referred to another blog, talking about "lumpers" or "splitters." I am very familiar with this terminology from taxonomy (I tend to be a "lumper," myself. If two plants occupy the same niche, look a lot alike, and can apparently interbreed, why do they have to be defined as different species? [Sometimes I suspect the answer is "to get a journal publication for someone"]).

However, the person also extends the analogy to 'real life' - that people who ask the "big picture" questions (about global politics, climate change...and on up, they suggest that the question of God is the biggest "big picture" question) are lumpers, and the people who tend to focus more on their own gardens are "splitters."

(And I'm trying really hard not to take offense, or not to see patronization where it may not be occurring, but I almost get a hint of the "bless their hearts, but..." about the "splitters.")

I don't really think the analogy fits. Lumpers, taxonomically, are people who want to make fewer but larger categories. Splitters want to make more, smaller categories. I'm not sure how choosing to focus on life going on right around you vs. the wider world necessarily shoehorns perfectly into that.

I have been trying to think of other ways of defining it. Outward vs. inward focused? (That fits, but as someone who would rather look at her own garden - or her own mantel - than contemplate what I too often interpret as the overwhelming inhumanity of man to other man in the wider world, claiming to be "inward focused" to me sounds too much like being self-absorbed. And heck, maybe I am. I don't know).

I don't think Foxes vs. Hedgehogs exactly fits either (though I will note with amusement, that if that were true, then there is ONE way I could validly claim myself to be a "fox." Ba-dum-ching.)

And extravert and introvert don't work, either: I've known people defined as extraverts who are awfully focused on the minutiae of their lives, and introverts who are deeply concerned about the wider world.

I guess I can only fall back on explaining what I know, what my personal position is:

I tend to focus on the small things of life. As was famously said at the end of Candide, "Il faut cultiver nos jardins". I tend to feel that attending to my own "garden," so to speak, works better for me - and keeps me saner - than trying to focus too much on the greater reality.

I've spoken in the past about having to stop myself from watching the news. I get too upset sometimes, I get to feeling that the human race is just about to crack itself in a million pieces and that we will enter a bad new world where civility is dead and selfishness reigns. Or that natural disasters (and "man-made disasters") are so overwhelming, that they lead me to question.

(One of the big questions I try not too hard to address, because I cannot come up with a satisfactory answer: "how can there be a loving God if stuff like this still happens?")

Part of the problem, and I know this sounds a bit like bragging on the nobility of my personality, and really, I'm trying to make it be NOT, because there are a lot of not-so-noble things in my personality, is that I am a bit of a control freak, and my Meyers-Briggs personality type is sometimes referred to as the "Counselor."

I want to fix things. I want to make things better. And in a big way. There have been times I've been sitting relaxing, knitting or reading a magazine, and gone to myself, "Why are you doing this? You are wasting the life you have been given. You should be out trying to make the world a better place." And if I do that to myself too much, I get really sad and really dissatisfied with myself.

So I find that ratcheting down my focus helps. Reminding myself that I can't fix everything. I can do SOME things: I have enough ready funds that I can donate to a reputable group when something happens. I can do little stuff like pick up trash in my town. I can do my best as a teacher so that students will go off into the world equipped to do whatever it is they need to do...especially if they are going to go and become (as one of my former students hopefully will) doctors that then go back to their impoverished home-countries and try to set up clinics to help people.

So maybe if I can't directly "fix" things, I can comfort myself that in some way, I am second-hand fixing.

But I do find the big questions overwhelm me sometimes.

I think also it has to do with one's temperament: do you like argument or not? I definitely do not like argument, I tend to be more of a Code of the Schoolyard #3 person (I definitely don't agree with #2, and there are times when I wouldn't agree with #1).

I knew someone once who lived to debate, to discuss, to argue. I found this person exhausting to be around, because they would disagree with you about EVERYTHING. I wanted to sit this person down, and say, "Look. You may not understand this, but there are some of us who make conversation to feel connected, not to do the mental equivalent of sharpening our claws on the couch. When I say that the weather's nice lately, that's not an opening gambit; it's a bit of small-talk that really only requires a response in the affirmative, or, at the most a "yes, but I actually like it a bit warmer than this." You don't need to debate people on everything they say; most of us don't walk around with that kind of mental armament."

But I never did, because I was sure it would invite another argument. (And I also admit that I often felt that this person felt that I wasn't too bright - or more likely, that I was bright enough but was being intellectually lazy because I didn't feel the need to turn everything into a deep discussion).

I don't know. I guess I tend to feel happier upon finding that another person and I share something in common - whether it's an opinion or an experience - than I do in having to back up everything I say, justify every statement.

(I remember when I was first starting my Master's thesis research, my advisor sent one of my labmates out with me to do some field work. I barely knew the guy and, as is typical of people I barely knew, I was kind of uncomfortable at first. We were collecting soil samples - it was a crummy, stony soil, and he pulled up a sample with a large rock in it. He muttered,

"What did you get, Charlie Brown?"
"I got a rock."

quoting the old Peanuts Halloween special. And I laughed. From that moment, we had something in common - something we could discuss and laugh about. It was at that point that I realized, "Hey, he and I might be able to be friends." And we were. )

So I guess I'm more about trying to find connections - trying to make myself feel like I'm not-so-weird in this world, like I'm not so much a stranger in a strange land. Maybe the people who are the big debaters are people who most of the time feel more comfortable in their milieu than I do.

(Interestingly: one of the places where I do feel more comfortable in my milieu - and feel more comfortable discussing "bigger" questions - is in the grown-up Sunday School class I am a part of. So maybe there is something to the idea of how comfortable you feel among a group of people and how much you are willing to discuss the "big ideas.")

But otherwise, what I am doing with my "here is this thing I made" or my "here are my thoughts on a book I read" or "here is an experience I had," is an attempt to make a connection - sort of unfurling a little flag that says "I exist, and I feel this way" and hoping that someone else will unfurl one that says "and I understand you." Because that's really one of the things I want most: to be understood.

So I don't know. Maybe the dichotomy isn't so much "lumper" and "splitter" as it is people who want to understand the world vs. people who want to be understood by the world? Or people who interact on the basis of what they think vs. people who interact on the basis of how they feel? (And ugh, I feel bad thinking that. I want to be a thinker, really, but I guess I am more of a feeler. Somehow it seems more intelligent and mature to be a thinker in that sense). Or maybe people who are secure in who they are versus people who need reassurance? I don't know.

Such a sad situation in Haiti. One of the poorest nations in the world, hit by a major earthquake. There are many places to send help (On Twitter, the Red Cross has directions on how to directly text to them and send $10). Another option are any of these sites. (And I would add, as a fairly long-term Mercy Corps donor, it's possible to give to Mercy Corps if you live in the US as well.)

There's not much else to say, other than to note that it's a sad situation made worse by the past troubles in that country.

In honor of the first day of the new semester, one of my favorite pieces of music ever. (Because it's Brahms' Academic Festival Overture)



I love this piece because for me, it really sums up what my romantic ideals (as a girl) of what life on a college campus would be - the purposefulness (much of that piece sounds like people striding rapidly across campus to class, their academic robes* flapping in the wind, discussing deep stuff as they go). The swelling music, capturing the joy that a bookish nerd feels upon facing a new academic challenge or a new semester - all the new books, new pencils, new things to be learned. Even the old drinking songs that are incorporated - though I have to admit my observation (not participation) of on-campus drinking suggested it was more like a really bad punk song than a comic scene from Shakespeare (In that, rather than in vino veritas - or in vino ridemus - it was more in vino, puking and bad hook-ups).

(*Yes, I admit it, I sort of wish American universities had kept the British tradition of students and faculty wearing the academic robes over their clothes. I would probably complain about the impracticality in real life, but in my romantic imaginings, everyone looks a bit like a combination between Hogwarts and the stories I've read featuring Oxbridge in the 20s and 30s)

And then there's the Gaudeamus at the end. Which is sometimes sung at graduations (well, not here, it isn't), and so seems such an appropriate summing-up. (Even if the Gaudeamus is essentially another drinking song).

I don't know, it's hard to explain. There's a lighthearted and yet serious quality to my imaginings of academic life - lighthearted in the sense that you were apart from the rest of the world, that you could almost imagine yourself above the grubbing and politicking that happened out in business and, well, politics (though sadly, that is not the case - though I have managed to avoid MOST campus politics, and am grateful for that). And the serious quality: well, learning is, I've always believed, serious business. (or, if you prefer, srs bzns). And yet, at the same time, it's FUN. It's about the best fun I know.

from the Gaudeamus: (I don't know Latin but I've seen the English translation of it, and probably most of you can figure out what it's saying):

Vivat academia!
Vivant professores!
Vivat membrum quodlibet
Vivant membra quaelibet
Semper sint in flore.

Another finished object.

It may not look like much, just sitting on its own:



But you put it on, and it kind of comes to life:



(And hey! It's a picture of my face that I actually feel looks "like me," even with the slightly disheveled hair).

This is the Crofter's Cowl (Note: you need to scroll down to where you see the pattern for the cowl - it's on the righthand side - and it's a .pdf file). It's a fairly straightforward pattern (but again, one where you read it at first and go, "wait, that's weird," but if you trust the pattern and follow it, it works).

The yarn is Araucania Aysen, I forget the color number. It came from Stitches N Stuff a couple years ago, so it's high time for me to get it out of my stash and into something wearable.

This knit took me only a day or so to complete (granted, a vacation day where I had nothing else to do but sit and knit). I had brought the yarn with me but felt a particularly strong motive to make it, as it was about the time that it turned horribly cold. I had a scarf with me but I thought the cowl might be warmer.

It is a very satisfactory object: it is pretty, it is warm (but not so warm it becomes uncomfortable to wear indoors, unless you're in an overheated space), it's a not-too-heavily-stressed object (so the rather soft and not-tightly-spun yarn won't wear too much). My only gripe is that wow, there's a lot of grafting on that baby. (You knit the thing in two halves - so the pattern will be symmetrical - and the graft line is around the equator of the cowl). However, I think the grafting was worth it to give the symmetricallity.

I think this would make a good gift for someone living in a cold climate. And though it's lacy, I think done in a masculine-looking yarn, it would (probably*) be appropriate for a man.

(*Still, I know at least a few men who wouldn't wear it because of the "lace" - even made in their favorite color and a soft yarn).

I was also reading a Hamish MacBeth mystery at the time where the author talked about the "crofters" (people who live on small landholdings...I'm not quite sure of the legal status, I don't entirely understand the crofting laws and reform, at least as the Hamish MacBeth mysteries mention them).

***

Charles, in case the e-mail didn't make it through: yes, they are "Paddie" shoes. The company is "Privo" by Clark's, not "Primo" as I first said. I had to look them up on Zappo's to be sure as I didn't keep the box and the name of the particular shoe is not printed in it. They're the brown with brown nubuck color; I see there are several other color combinations.

Lynn gave me a "Creative Blogger" award (even though she said she was going to note people she didn't regularly link to, and I think she links to my blog more than most of my other readers do). Thank you, Lynn!

The award suggests that we share seven unusual things about ourselves, then provide links to seven other bloggers. I think I'm going to give the links first; these are people I read but don't have on my sidebar (for whatever reason) and don't often mention, but still enjoy. And at least one of these came courtesy of Lynn's massive Links page:

Fed by Birds. This is a British site, it's not updated as regularly as some. It's kind of hard to categorize - I think perhaps "discusses ephemerata" would maybe be the best - she often features old photos or postcards. A recent post discusses floor plans in books (along with a strong desire to have them provided). I always love looking at any maps provided in books, though I admit I like to also make up my own floor plans and maps in my head for the places I'm reading about. (Oddly, a lot of the cottagey places in books - like the Miss Read stories - wind up "looking" like my maternal grandmother's house)

Loobylu. (Though of late her life seems to have got more busy and she's not posting as much). This is the site of an Aussie mom/artist who discusses her work, her home, and her daughters. It's fun to see - even if just for the "oh, hey, it's summer over there now!" aspect of it.

Angry Chicken. Another craft/home blog, again with lovely photos, fun projects, and news of raising children (which is exotic to me as I haven't any). A recent post refers to the Women's Day Book of Soft Toys and Dolls, which was a favorite of mine as a child, and which I had to track down a copy of when I moved here. (My mom still has "our" copy somewhere).

Feeling Stitchy. A nice clearinghouse of "cool embroidered things seen on the Web."

Red Shirt Knitting. A knitting blog, and don't tell anyone this, but I really read for the Sims Sunday updates. And the chicken photos.

Geek Crafts Another clearinghouse-type site of links - in this case, to crafts involving Star Wars, Dr. Who, Nintendo, and other things near and dear to various geekish hearts.

Mental Multivitamin. This is a different sort of creative blog than most I've linked; the author definitely does not do crafts. But she does read and write and comment on her reading and on homeschooling and on society in general. This is where I first saw the link to "Shop Class as Soulcraft." This is also a good site for people thinking about reading Shakespeare - she has a whole section called "Bardolatry." She's also the one who rails against New Year's resolutions of the slimming-down sort (though, dear Lord, I wish I had the kind of body that would remain slim thanks only to eating carefully and some occasional gentle walking to the bookstore. Alas, I have to have one of those steel-and-wood giraffes known as a NordicTrak in my house, and use it regularly.)

So those are my seven.

Now, the seven things about me. Let's see:

1. I am almost deathly allergic to miso. I have to be very careful in both Japanese and vegetarian restaurants.

2. I love pretty "Victorian" things; I am considering ordering a set of "cartes de visite" for myself from Victorian Trading Company. Even though I already have business cards provided by my university. The business cards are fine and all but they're not PRETTY. And I didn't get to pick out the design.

3. I have an exceptionally good sense of "mental maps" - if I have been somewhere once, I can usually find my way around there again, even without a paper map or GPS.

4. I also have an exceptionally good auditory memory, in the sense of remembering a piece of music if I've heard it before, or even recognizing the style of a composer. I used to amuse my friends by immediately identifying composers (or the group, in the case of pop music) upon hearing the first few notes.

5. I become irrationally irritated upon feeling my time is being wasted, or that someone is "playing" me.

6. I've been attacked by a spruce grouse.

7. I was a passenger on a train that suffered a (minor) derailment. (Yes, I am going to continue to milk that.)