ETA: they've already announced campus is closed for tomorrow (announced around 6 this evening, earlier than they normally EVER do). So as long as the power stays on, I'm perfectly good.
We're supposed to get bad weather (like, what, 2/3 of the continental U.S.?) starting tonight. I am hoping that it's mostly sleet, and that if the roads get bad, they have the wisdom to cancel classes tomorrow so people don't have to drive in.
I'm also really hoping the power stays on, as I have no safe way to start up my gas furnace if the electricity goes out. (I think in that case I will pile all my quilts on the bed, put on a hat and fingerless gloves, turn on my battery-powered lantern, and read in bed until the power comes back on).
I've been fighting a low-grade headache today and would not be at all surprised if it became markedly worse as the weather changes.
Everyone in the path of the storm: I hope you stay safe, the power stays on, the pipes don't freeze, and that you don't have to go out in it.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Ninth Blogiversary (Observed)
As I said last week, when I was yet once again being pecked to death by ducks, I was going to postpone any mention/discussion of my blogiversary.
First, because I missed the actual day, as it fell right in the middle of the Duck Attack, but second, because I needed some time to think, and maybe contemplate pictures.
I don't know. I don't really have a theme for this.
I guess nine years is a pretty long time to keep a journal sort of thing on the Internet. I know a lot of knitblogs started out about the time that I did. Some got big and famous and are still going on. (In fact, some of those bloggers apparently now make part/all of their living off of their books and public appearances.) Some changed (I know I don't talk about knitting nearly as much as I once did, partly because I'm busier with other things). Some ended as the person writing them had a change in life circumstances: students graduated from college and found that the work-world for them was not amenable to blogging (and perhaps, not even to knitting). Some folks had children, and needed to devote the time to them. Some folks may have even been TOLD to end the blog - either by family or by an employer. (crosses fingers and spits, lest that ever happen here.)
And some, I suppose, got bored with it. Or decided it wasn't for them. Or got no feedback/negative feedback and decided it wasn't worth it. (And honestly, how many times after a run of a week or more with no comments, I've wondered if I still have readers).
And some people who blogged - not just knitbloggers - moved over onto Facebook (which I do not do) and Twitter (which I do, though not with any sort of substance of consistency). Or to flickr. Or to Ravelry.
I have to admit, though, that I still LIKE the blogging format. I'm too verbose to be able to limit myself to 140-character bursts all the time. And Facebook is a little too in-your-face; for a while I was regularly getting "friend requests" from students, and I figured the simplest way to deal with those was to - if asked - remark that I'm not on Facebook.
(I realize this is my own prejudice talking here, but sometimes, from how I've heard friends of mine (I mean, in-real-life friends here) talk about Facebook, it almost sounds a little cliquish or something. Like, it's the table full of popular kids signing each other's yearbooks. And maybe, if I can once again make Everything Like Seventh Grade, Twitter is like the kid over in the corner of the room who has poor impulse control and blurts out whatever he thinks. And blogs are maybe more like the journals that the arty kids (or the just-plain-weird kids) kept, where they wrote out project ideas (if they were arty) or put down their deep thoughts or whatever. (And what a nightmare if some mean kid were to get ahold of that journal and broadcast the contents...which is why I do do SOME self-censorship in here).
I don't know where Ravelry would fit in. It's a little too pat to call it the Home Ec Club, and it's not really like that. But you get the idea...)
But I still like keeping the blog. It's been kind of a "safety valve" of sorts over the years, even though I am entirely aware that students or colleagues could run across it and read what I'm thinking. (Again: a certain degree of self-censorship or obfuscation on some topics).
A lot, and yet not a lot, has happened to me in nine years. I realize I'm a bit unusual in that (a) I still work in the same career, (b) still live in the same house, and (c) have not really had any major life-status changes (like marrying or having kids) in that time.
And at the same time, let's see: I received tenure and one promotion. (Still waiting on final news of the second one). I weathered the congregational split and probably near-death of the church I belonged to (We continue to go along. Money is always tight and always a worry, but we are still managing as of now). I wound up doing volunteer work I didn't think I'd be able to do (youth group) and then watched the main members of the youth group graduate and move on (I haven't had one this year: no one in that age group any more. Maybe in a few years when some of the middle school kids age up, or if we get some more members). I've lost a lot of people I cared about, both relatives and friends. I saw a very close relative be diagnosed with, and successfully go through, treatment for cancer.
I've become better about telling myself that I am the only person I have control over, and that sometimes you have to let people fail if they are bent on it. I am getting better at reading evaluation comments and deciding correctly if they address a behavior I need to change, or if they are someone lashing out in anger, and not really thinking. And I guess I've gotten better at being able to chalk up some of the weird random (or so it seems to me) stuff people do to, "Well, they have something else going on in their lives right now that's making them act this way; they do not mean it personally."
I don't know if I've gotten any better at finding balance in life. It seems that I'm always playing catch-up between feeling like I've slacked too much ("feeling like," in this case, is not the same as "actually have") and burning myself out from working too hard.
I'm also still too good at letting people bully me. And not good enough at looking at "rules" and saying "that's a stupid rule, I shouldn't have to follow that" and not following it. (I still believe that somewhere there is a Permanent Record that those kinds of infractions are recorded in, I think).
So in some ways I've changed, in a lot of other ways, not.
Also, over the past nine years...well, I've finished a few sweaters, almost-finished handquilting a quilt, pieced a bunch more quilt tops, made innumerable socks and toys and hats and scarves.
And collected some silly stuff.
And turned 40, and didn't do either of the things I thought I was going to "have" to do at 40: get my hair cut short ("all mature women wear short hair" though perhaps my level of maturity is questionable some days) and stop making, and in general, give up, toys.
But then I would not have the fun that is Re-Ment.
So: time to cut the cake, already!
First, because I missed the actual day, as it fell right in the middle of the Duck Attack, but second, because I needed some time to think, and maybe contemplate pictures.
I don't know. I don't really have a theme for this.
I guess nine years is a pretty long time to keep a journal sort of thing on the Internet. I know a lot of knitblogs started out about the time that I did. Some got big and famous and are still going on. (In fact, some of those bloggers apparently now make part/all of their living off of their books and public appearances.) Some changed (I know I don't talk about knitting nearly as much as I once did, partly because I'm busier with other things). Some ended as the person writing them had a change in life circumstances: students graduated from college and found that the work-world for them was not amenable to blogging (and perhaps, not even to knitting). Some folks had children, and needed to devote the time to them. Some folks may have even been TOLD to end the blog - either by family or by an employer. (crosses fingers and spits, lest that ever happen here.)
And some, I suppose, got bored with it. Or decided it wasn't for them. Or got no feedback/negative feedback and decided it wasn't worth it. (And honestly, how many times after a run of a week or more with no comments, I've wondered if I still have readers).
And some people who blogged - not just knitbloggers - moved over onto Facebook (which I do not do) and Twitter (which I do, though not with any sort of substance of consistency). Or to flickr. Or to Ravelry.
I have to admit, though, that I still LIKE the blogging format. I'm too verbose to be able to limit myself to 140-character bursts all the time. And Facebook is a little too in-your-face; for a while I was regularly getting "friend requests" from students, and I figured the simplest way to deal with those was to - if asked - remark that I'm not on Facebook.
(I realize this is my own prejudice talking here, but sometimes, from how I've heard friends of mine (I mean, in-real-life friends here) talk about Facebook, it almost sounds a little cliquish or something. Like, it's the table full of popular kids signing each other's yearbooks. And maybe, if I can once again make Everything Like Seventh Grade, Twitter is like the kid over in the corner of the room who has poor impulse control and blurts out whatever he thinks. And blogs are maybe more like the journals that the arty kids (or the just-plain-weird kids) kept, where they wrote out project ideas (if they were arty) or put down their deep thoughts or whatever. (And what a nightmare if some mean kid were to get ahold of that journal and broadcast the contents...which is why I do do SOME self-censorship in here).
I don't know where Ravelry would fit in. It's a little too pat to call it the Home Ec Club, and it's not really like that. But you get the idea...)
But I still like keeping the blog. It's been kind of a "safety valve" of sorts over the years, even though I am entirely aware that students or colleagues could run across it and read what I'm thinking. (Again: a certain degree of self-censorship or obfuscation on some topics).
A lot, and yet not a lot, has happened to me in nine years. I realize I'm a bit unusual in that (a) I still work in the same career, (b) still live in the same house, and (c) have not really had any major life-status changes (like marrying or having kids) in that time.
And at the same time, let's see: I received tenure and one promotion. (Still waiting on final news of the second one). I weathered the congregational split and probably near-death of the church I belonged to (We continue to go along. Money is always tight and always a worry, but we are still managing as of now). I wound up doing volunteer work I didn't think I'd be able to do (youth group) and then watched the main members of the youth group graduate and move on (I haven't had one this year: no one in that age group any more. Maybe in a few years when some of the middle school kids age up, or if we get some more members). I've lost a lot of people I cared about, both relatives and friends. I saw a very close relative be diagnosed with, and successfully go through, treatment for cancer.
I've become better about telling myself that I am the only person I have control over, and that sometimes you have to let people fail if they are bent on it. I am getting better at reading evaluation comments and deciding correctly if they address a behavior I need to change, or if they are someone lashing out in anger, and not really thinking. And I guess I've gotten better at being able to chalk up some of the weird random (or so it seems to me) stuff people do to, "Well, they have something else going on in their lives right now that's making them act this way; they do not mean it personally."
I don't know if I've gotten any better at finding balance in life. It seems that I'm always playing catch-up between feeling like I've slacked too much ("feeling like," in this case, is not the same as "actually have") and burning myself out from working too hard.
I'm also still too good at letting people bully me. And not good enough at looking at "rules" and saying "that's a stupid rule, I shouldn't have to follow that" and not following it. (I still believe that somewhere there is a Permanent Record that those kinds of infractions are recorded in, I think).
So in some ways I've changed, in a lot of other ways, not.
Also, over the past nine years...well, I've finished a few sweaters, almost-finished handquilting a quilt, pieced a bunch more quilt tops, made innumerable socks and toys and hats and scarves.
And collected some silly stuff.
And turned 40, and didn't do either of the things I thought I was going to "have" to do at 40: get my hair cut short ("all mature women wear short hair" though perhaps my level of maturity is questionable some days) and stop making, and in general, give up, toys.
But then I would not have the fun that is Re-Ment.
So: time to cut the cake, already!
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Some questions answered
Tat:
No, I don't finish the pieces. You have to be a little careful to keep the fabric from ravelling but it is 100% cotton, medium-weight, and so it doesn't ravel like satin or something like that would. (If I were doing a quilt with a more raveling fabric, I probably would either cut the pieces larger and pink the edges with pinking shears, or else maybe take very small hems on them). Or I'd do larger than the standard-for-quilts 1/4" seam. I'd probably even do that working with flannel. Some people make quilts with flannel but I don't; I find it ravels like crazy and it also is stretchier than the quilt cottons, and those both lead to annoyances I don't need.
You also have to be careful if you are not finishing the ends (tying off) of the seams. Often times quilt patterns instruct you to "chain piece" - that is, sew a bunch of units together all in a long strip, with just a couple centimeters of thread between the units, then you cut the threads. I actually find I have bigger problems with those seams "undoing" in the process of working with the pieces than I have with the pieces raveling.
If a finished but unquilted quilt top needs to be washed (like, you spill something on it), I think you would need to finish the outermost edges to prevent raveling, though. Also, if you have the bias edge of a fabric on the edge of the quilt, you might want to do a...I forget the term, what dressmakers call it, but it's just a narrow line of stitching that stabilizes everything and stops the stretching. ("Staystitching." I just thought of it).
***
And Ellen, I started reading "Shop Class as Soulcraft"....had underlined stuff in it, written a few blog posts on it in my head, and then I got busy with other stuff...and never finished it. (I do that a lot with books). I need to find it and pull it out and finish reading it. Because I do think it says something important about how we live now, and how we might live.
***
And Grace, I have read a few things about heavy-duty exercise depressing the immune system; that marathon runners seem to fall prey more easily to colds than folks who exercise, but exercise less intensely (not sure about totally sedentary people and where they fit in). That could be part of it.
No, I don't finish the pieces. You have to be a little careful to keep the fabric from ravelling but it is 100% cotton, medium-weight, and so it doesn't ravel like satin or something like that would. (If I were doing a quilt with a more raveling fabric, I probably would either cut the pieces larger and pink the edges with pinking shears, or else maybe take very small hems on them). Or I'd do larger than the standard-for-quilts 1/4" seam. I'd probably even do that working with flannel. Some people make quilts with flannel but I don't; I find it ravels like crazy and it also is stretchier than the quilt cottons, and those both lead to annoyances I don't need.
You also have to be careful if you are not finishing the ends (tying off) of the seams. Often times quilt patterns instruct you to "chain piece" - that is, sew a bunch of units together all in a long strip, with just a couple centimeters of thread between the units, then you cut the threads. I actually find I have bigger problems with those seams "undoing" in the process of working with the pieces than I have with the pieces raveling.
If a finished but unquilted quilt top needs to be washed (like, you spill something on it), I think you would need to finish the outermost edges to prevent raveling, though. Also, if you have the bias edge of a fabric on the edge of the quilt, you might want to do a...I forget the term, what dressmakers call it, but it's just a narrow line of stitching that stabilizes everything and stops the stretching. ("Staystitching." I just thought of it).
***
And Ellen, I started reading "Shop Class as Soulcraft"....had underlined stuff in it, written a few blog posts on it in my head, and then I got busy with other stuff...and never finished it. (I do that a lot with books). I need to find it and pull it out and finish reading it. Because I do think it says something important about how we live now, and how we might live.
***
And Grace, I have read a few things about heavy-duty exercise depressing the immune system; that marathon runners seem to fall prey more easily to colds than folks who exercise, but exercise less intensely (not sure about totally sedentary people and where they fit in). That could be part of it.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Some sample blocks
After I got my grading done, I sewed up a few more of the "Flutterby" sample blocks. (This is just the green-into-aqua colorway; there's also one set of yellow and some of pink, so I'll have to lay the quilt out carefully to get a nice gradation).
To follow up on my previous post, I think I'll say FABRIC I AM *NOT* DISAPPOINT.
One thing I do love about this kind of activity is that if you understand the basic properties of the thing - how the fabric "works" and how sewing "works," you can pretty much trust things will come out the same way every time. And when something goes wrong, you can usually chalk it up to user error, which, while annoying, is not baffling like unpredictability is. (Or at least, like it is to me. One of the things that sometimes frustrates me about human interaction is that sometimes people will react in unpredictable ways because they have other stuff going on that you can't see or know about.)
Here's a close up showing two of my favorite prints. The swirly thing is actually a trompe l'oeil snail shell (see the little green snail head with the antenna?) and the wide blue stripe has brown centipedes hidden in it.
I find this doubly delightful because some of my research involves looking at soil "critters" like centipedes and snails. And now here they are on a quilt I am making!
To follow up on my previous post, I think I'll say FABRIC I AM *NOT* DISAPPOINT.
One thing I do love about this kind of activity is that if you understand the basic properties of the thing - how the fabric "works" and how sewing "works," you can pretty much trust things will come out the same way every time. And when something goes wrong, you can usually chalk it up to user error, which, while annoying, is not baffling like unpredictability is. (Or at least, like it is to me. One of the things that sometimes frustrates me about human interaction is that sometimes people will react in unpredictable ways because they have other stuff going on that you can't see or know about.)
Here's a close up showing two of my favorite prints. The swirly thing is actually a trompe l'oeil snail shell (see the little green snail head with the antenna?) and the wide blue stripe has brown centipedes hidden in it.
I find this doubly delightful because some of my research involves looking at soil "critters" like centipedes and snails. And now here they are on a quilt I am making!
A little sad
It's gonna be hard to start the "cancer and cell division" section in class today, with having just found out about the family friend with leukemia.
I remember when my dad was going through radiation treatment, I almost teared up one day during the discussion of stuff.
I remember when my dad was going through radiation treatment, I almost teared up one day during the discussion of stuff.
Speaking of wellness...
They were talking about this on the news this morning. Six 'healthy' habits that can make you sick (This is one of those annoying sites larded with ads and that asks you to take surveys and stuff, so I'm only providing it as a "citation.")
I think it's interesting because a lot of things are SO emphasized, and I think the problem is that slightly compulsive types like me, the more we hear them, the more we assume the finger's being pointed at US. And maybe sometimes it's good to dial back a bit.
So here they are:
1. Overexercising. They say here that 30-45 minutes, 4 to 5 days a week, should be sufficient. (I currently do more than that, but it's partly so that I can actually eat...I really do have a horrifically slow metabolism). They point out that too much exercise can depress the immune system. (Though maybe for someone with allergies, that might not be an entirely bad thing).
They also suggest that exercise doesn't have to be "hard," that walking or stuff like stretching and yoga can certainly be one's exercise some days of the week. I should take that advice, perhaps.
2. Staying out of the sun all the time. It's the Vitamin D issue. I don't know about this one though; as someone with first- and second-degree relatives who have had small skin cancers removed, I think I'd rather get most of my D from egg yolks and supplements. I guess they say 20 minutes without sunscreen is enough, though.
3.Overuse of antibacterial soaps. Really, these ARE designed only for times when you can't get to a sink and you know you've been exposed to bacteria. Handwashing with plain old soap is just as good and doesn't weaken your skin. This is one I actually follow; I get some kind of nice bar or liquid soap and keep it by both the sinks in my house. (Nice soap: more inclination to wash hands.) I'm also really careful to wash my hands between steps of cooking, or after handling anything that could have bacteria (like raw eggs).
4. Not enough sleep. I try to get enough sleep. I'd like 8 hours, I can usually manage 6 1/2 to 7 during the week. (In one of his old comedy routines, Bill Cosby said something along the lines of "I enjoy sleep like I enjoy a good steak." I have to agree with him on that). (I presume this is presented as a "healthful habit that can make you sick" because some people still think sleep = laziness or sloth)
5. Relying on airconditioning. Okay, this is the one "WHAT IS THIS I DON'T EVEN" one. I get their logic: recycled air can have bacteria and stuff in it. But. Living in 100+ degree heat in the summer...no. (Okay, I probably do already follow this one...I have to go outside often enough in the summer that I'm not in airconditioning 24/7. But I'm not gonna get up and turn it off for three hours every six or something and open windows instead...)
Also, I change the filters on mine monthly. Because then I don't have to dust the house as often.
6. Eating 'organic' food. They mean in the sense of blindly buying ANYTHING labeled organic and assuming it's healthier - cookies can contain all organic ingredients but still be high in sugars, fats, or calories. I dunno. I try to buy organic produce when I can (though you can't always find it in the nearby grocery stores here), especially the stuff like spinach and strawberries that are more likely to have pesticide residues.
But you know? When I do indulge I do like some of the Annie's products. I like her little chocolate bunny cookies. And I like Newman-Os.
They were also talking on the news about what one guy said his nutritionist promoted: the "80-20" rule. That is, if 80% of the stuff you do is healthful, you probably don't need to worry overmuch about the other 20% (within reason...) So, if like me, you work out, and try to eat lots of vegetables (even though you don't really LIKE most vegetables), and try to limit fat and excessive sugar and salt. And you don't smoke, and do stuff like wear your seatbelt and wear sunscreen...it probably won't do too much damage to have the occasional piece of cheesecake.
And, as I said: slightly compulsive types like me have a hard time with this.
I think it's interesting because a lot of things are SO emphasized, and I think the problem is that slightly compulsive types like me, the more we hear them, the more we assume the finger's being pointed at US. And maybe sometimes it's good to dial back a bit.
So here they are:
1. Overexercising. They say here that 30-45 minutes, 4 to 5 days a week, should be sufficient. (I currently do more than that, but it's partly so that I can actually eat...I really do have a horrifically slow metabolism). They point out that too much exercise can depress the immune system. (Though maybe for someone with allergies, that might not be an entirely bad thing).
They also suggest that exercise doesn't have to be "hard," that walking or stuff like stretching and yoga can certainly be one's exercise some days of the week. I should take that advice, perhaps.
2. Staying out of the sun all the time. It's the Vitamin D issue. I don't know about this one though; as someone with first- and second-degree relatives who have had small skin cancers removed, I think I'd rather get most of my D from egg yolks and supplements. I guess they say 20 minutes without sunscreen is enough, though.
3.Overuse of antibacterial soaps. Really, these ARE designed only for times when you can't get to a sink and you know you've been exposed to bacteria. Handwashing with plain old soap is just as good and doesn't weaken your skin. This is one I actually follow; I get some kind of nice bar or liquid soap and keep it by both the sinks in my house. (Nice soap: more inclination to wash hands.) I'm also really careful to wash my hands between steps of cooking, or after handling anything that could have bacteria (like raw eggs).
4. Not enough sleep. I try to get enough sleep. I'd like 8 hours, I can usually manage 6 1/2 to 7 during the week. (In one of his old comedy routines, Bill Cosby said something along the lines of "I enjoy sleep like I enjoy a good steak." I have to agree with him on that). (I presume this is presented as a "healthful habit that can make you sick" because some people still think sleep = laziness or sloth)
5. Relying on airconditioning. Okay, this is the one "WHAT IS THIS I DON'T EVEN" one. I get their logic: recycled air can have bacteria and stuff in it. But. Living in 100+ degree heat in the summer...no. (Okay, I probably do already follow this one...I have to go outside often enough in the summer that I'm not in airconditioning 24/7. But I'm not gonna get up and turn it off for three hours every six or something and open windows instead...)
Also, I change the filters on mine monthly. Because then I don't have to dust the house as often.
6. Eating 'organic' food. They mean in the sense of blindly buying ANYTHING labeled organic and assuming it's healthier - cookies can contain all organic ingredients but still be high in sugars, fats, or calories. I dunno. I try to buy organic produce when I can (though you can't always find it in the nearby grocery stores here), especially the stuff like spinach and strawberries that are more likely to have pesticide residues.
But you know? When I do indulge I do like some of the Annie's products. I like her little chocolate bunny cookies. And I like Newman-Os.
They were also talking on the news about what one guy said his nutritionist promoted: the "80-20" rule. That is, if 80% of the stuff you do is healthful, you probably don't need to worry overmuch about the other 20% (within reason...) So, if like me, you work out, and try to eat lots of vegetables (even though you don't really LIKE most vegetables), and try to limit fat and excessive sugar and salt. And you don't smoke, and do stuff like wear your seatbelt and wear sunscreen...it probably won't do too much damage to have the occasional piece of cheesecake.
And, as I said: slightly compulsive types like me have a hard time with this.
All work and...
...not enough play make Erica something something.
I took a stack of journal articles home yesterday afternoon (I bugged out of campus around 2:30, after doing what grading needed to be done). I read for maybe an hour and a half, and then started up yet another article and realized that the information was getting absolutely no traction on my brain, so I gave up and started the newest quilt top instead.
This is one of those jelly-roll quilts. I have five (well, four now, since this one is being used) unused jelly rolls stacked up, and thought it might be a good idea to take them apart and start making something of them. (Non-quilters: a jelly roll is a set of (usually) 40, 2 1/2" wide strips, all from one fabric manufacturer, all from one "line" of fabrics. It's a relatively cheap way to "sample" the entire range of a line, and to get a decent sized (usually small twin to twin, depending on how much other fabric you add) quilt top out of it. There are books of patterns just for jelly rolls, and many of the quilt magazines periodically run patterns for them.)
The pattern is called "Knickerbocker Glory," though I'm sure versions of it exist other places by different names - it's just four-patch blocks, set on point, with large setting triangles around them to make the quilt a rectangle. Four patches are nice, and easy, and they sometimes look better with busy fabrics than a more complex pattern.
The fabric line I'm using is called "Flutterby." I'm not even sure this one is still widely available. (One of the frustrations of quilting - and one of the things that probably leads some of us with more compulsive tendencies to acquire large stashes of fabric - is that some of the lines are only printed for three months. And then when they're gone, they're gone. And so you wind up buying stuff you want when you find it, even if you've got 10 other projects stacked up...I have fabric dating back to the early 1990s somewhere in my stash.)
This is actually a lot funnier and cuter than I realized. When I started looking closely at the fabrics I realized that a lot of them are - trompe l'oeil isn't quite the right word, but I don't know what is - they have insects or other invertebrates worked into the design, and it's so subtle and funny you don't catch it at first. For example, there's a swirly-almost-paisley that's actually a stylized snail's shell, and (my favorite) one of the broad stripes has, in the center of the widest stripe, a design that is actually tiny centipedes!
So this quilt is going to make me happy. I pulled out a big piece of that "Dimples" fabric in a green to use as the setting squares; it should work well. (And also, it's using stash-fabric.)
I got the first two sets of four-patch blocks sewn up; I hope to do more this afternoon after I get my grading done. If so, I'll photograph some of them and post them on here.
After sewing for a while, I stopped to fix a "proper" dinner for once. ("proper" dinner = I actually cook something, instead of rinsing some spinach leaves and glopping salad dressing on them, or making peanut butter crackers and eating them with fruit). I made refried beans. I had found a container of pinto beans I cooked up and froze (when I couldn't eat them all) in the freezer. It had lost its label so I wasn't sure how long it had been in there (anywhere from 4 to 8 months). I decided to thaw it and use them for refried beans, because if the texture or flavor had suffered, they'd still be OK as that.
Refried beans are easy to make. I don't know why I don't make my own more often.
All I did was to heat some olive oil (and a little butter - I thought that might help the flavor if the beans were at all freezer-burned), added some freeze dried shallots (I only had a small amount of beans, and I didn't want to cut part of an onion for them). Then I dumped in the beans and mashed them up with a potato masher. (You do need some liquid in there. The beans had their own liquid, plus there was still some ice on them.)
I flavored them with some adobo seasoning (If you like southwestern or Tex-Mex cooking, Penzey's adobo seasoning is a nice thing to have on hand. It's a well-balanced seasoning, and it's good in a lot of things).
They were surprisingly good, for beans that had been shoved in the back of the freezer. (I didn't make tortillas; no time. I put a little Mexican blend cheese on the beans and let it melt, and then ate them with some crusty bread and had some canned pineapple on the side, for an attempt at balance in the meal).
And then I relaxed and did a bit of hand-quilting while watching television. ("Community," you are so mean and snarky, and yet I laugh at you so hard.)
I need not to push myself as hard as I've been. I used to talk about the New Rule? Where I expected myself to do one hour of research work (either actual research, data analysis, writing, or reading) per day (excepting Sundays, and Wednesdays, which are my busiest day)? Well, I think New Rule has to also have the component that I not push myself to do more than two hours of that in a day - at least not the reading. (Fieldwork is different.) Pushing myself too hard and overusing my brain like that probably isn't good for me.
I took a stack of journal articles home yesterday afternoon (I bugged out of campus around 2:30, after doing what grading needed to be done). I read for maybe an hour and a half, and then started up yet another article and realized that the information was getting absolutely no traction on my brain, so I gave up and started the newest quilt top instead.
This is one of those jelly-roll quilts. I have five (well, four now, since this one is being used) unused jelly rolls stacked up, and thought it might be a good idea to take them apart and start making something of them. (Non-quilters: a jelly roll is a set of (usually) 40, 2 1/2" wide strips, all from one fabric manufacturer, all from one "line" of fabrics. It's a relatively cheap way to "sample" the entire range of a line, and to get a decent sized (usually small twin to twin, depending on how much other fabric you add) quilt top out of it. There are books of patterns just for jelly rolls, and many of the quilt magazines periodically run patterns for them.)
The pattern is called "Knickerbocker Glory," though I'm sure versions of it exist other places by different names - it's just four-patch blocks, set on point, with large setting triangles around them to make the quilt a rectangle. Four patches are nice, and easy, and they sometimes look better with busy fabrics than a more complex pattern.
The fabric line I'm using is called "Flutterby." I'm not even sure this one is still widely available. (One of the frustrations of quilting - and one of the things that probably leads some of us with more compulsive tendencies to acquire large stashes of fabric - is that some of the lines are only printed for three months. And then when they're gone, they're gone. And so you wind up buying stuff you want when you find it, even if you've got 10 other projects stacked up...I have fabric dating back to the early 1990s somewhere in my stash.)
This is actually a lot funnier and cuter than I realized. When I started looking closely at the fabrics I realized that a lot of them are - trompe l'oeil isn't quite the right word, but I don't know what is - they have insects or other invertebrates worked into the design, and it's so subtle and funny you don't catch it at first. For example, there's a swirly-almost-paisley that's actually a stylized snail's shell, and (my favorite) one of the broad stripes has, in the center of the widest stripe, a design that is actually tiny centipedes!
So this quilt is going to make me happy. I pulled out a big piece of that "Dimples" fabric in a green to use as the setting squares; it should work well. (And also, it's using stash-fabric.)
I got the first two sets of four-patch blocks sewn up; I hope to do more this afternoon after I get my grading done. If so, I'll photograph some of them and post them on here.
After sewing for a while, I stopped to fix a "proper" dinner for once. ("proper" dinner = I actually cook something, instead of rinsing some spinach leaves and glopping salad dressing on them, or making peanut butter crackers and eating them with fruit). I made refried beans. I had found a container of pinto beans I cooked up and froze (when I couldn't eat them all) in the freezer. It had lost its label so I wasn't sure how long it had been in there (anywhere from 4 to 8 months). I decided to thaw it and use them for refried beans, because if the texture or flavor had suffered, they'd still be OK as that.
Refried beans are easy to make. I don't know why I don't make my own more often.
All I did was to heat some olive oil (and a little butter - I thought that might help the flavor if the beans were at all freezer-burned), added some freeze dried shallots (I only had a small amount of beans, and I didn't want to cut part of an onion for them). Then I dumped in the beans and mashed them up with a potato masher. (You do need some liquid in there. The beans had their own liquid, plus there was still some ice on them.)
I flavored them with some adobo seasoning (If you like southwestern or Tex-Mex cooking, Penzey's adobo seasoning is a nice thing to have on hand. It's a well-balanced seasoning, and it's good in a lot of things).
They were surprisingly good, for beans that had been shoved in the back of the freezer. (I didn't make tortillas; no time. I put a little Mexican blend cheese on the beans and let it melt, and then ate them with some crusty bread and had some canned pineapple on the side, for an attempt at balance in the meal).
And then I relaxed and did a bit of hand-quilting while watching television. ("Community," you are so mean and snarky, and yet I laugh at you so hard.)
I need not to push myself as hard as I've been. I used to talk about the New Rule? Where I expected myself to do one hour of research work (either actual research, data analysis, writing, or reading) per day (excepting Sundays, and Wednesdays, which are my busiest day)? Well, I think New Rule has to also have the component that I not push myself to do more than two hours of that in a day - at least not the reading. (Fieldwork is different.) Pushing myself too hard and overusing my brain like that probably isn't good for me.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
a small idea
I think, seeing as I missed/was overwhelmed by work-stuff and life-stuff for the ninth blogiversary, I am going to declare Monday as Blogiversary (Observed).
If it works for the federal government...
That'll give me a little time to think something up, and also if I want to upload photos or anything I can do it. (I have to upload from home any more; there's something wonky with disks and my computer at work).
Here's to next week being better than this week.
If it works for the federal government...
That'll give me a little time to think something up, and also if I want to upload photos or anything I can do it. (I have to upload from home any more; there's something wonky with disks and my computer at work).
Here's to next week being better than this week.
little animation show
Got this off of Syaffolee's Twitter stream. It's pretty funny, and it explains things well: How Staph aureus work, antibiotics, and development of antibiotic resistance.
I particularly like Staph Aureus' "pet," Catalase.
I particularly like Staph Aureus' "pet," Catalase.
Yup, missed it.
Yesterday was actually my blogiversary, I went and found the original "hello world" (only it didn't say that) post in my archives, and it was January 26, 2002, which, if I remember correctly, was a Saturday.
So yeah, not so much with the Blogiversary celebration this year. But next year - if the world still exists, if the Internet hasn't been taken over by some evil entity, and if Blogger or some simulacrum still exists (too cheap to buy my own domain and too cack-handed with coding to use one of the less idiot-proof softwares), it will be my tenth blogiversary. So there's that. I'll have to plan something for that.
***
I got Potter back out last night. I thought I was to the point of binding off for the armholes on the back, but not yet. I also need to just gut up and do the picking-up-of-stitches to finish the neckline of Thermal.
(I admit - I've partly held off finishing Thermal because of the photograph aspect. For some reason - I don't know what, stress, dry weather, or the new moisturizer I'm using being no good for me - my chin is broken out. Not badly, but as someone who usually has very clear skin, it bothers me. (And yeah, dry weather can make me break out. Go figure.) So I'm waiting for that to clear before I think about photographs. (I might also need to change moisturizers again. I don't think my skin likes this one. Sigh.) Usually if I break out it's on my chin or forehead.)
***
I was thinking about stuff as I drove in this morning. I took the "new route," the one I will have to take once construction on the intersection starts. The new route is longer, less direct, and goes through an area that has a bad blind corner (or not so much a blind corner, but a place where one street takes a "jog" and you can't really easily see traffic coming on the cross street. Some of our streets here in town are messed up - some start and end unpredictably, some will be straight for a few blocks and then jog over. I don't know if it's that the town was built in parts, or when the streets were built they had to jog around things, or if they just didn't hire a very good planner, but I still get lost in some parts of town despite it being small and my having lived here over 10 years)
The new route bothers me. I find it aesthetically displeasing because it is not direct the way the old route was.
And I realized that's a problem I have with a lot of things. I think of it as kind of a "Princess and the Pea Issue." It's small things, that intrude themselves on my consciousness, that bug me. I know I shouldn't be bugged by them, I know it's completely irrational to be, and yet I am. It's kind of like a dripping faucet when you are trying to read. Some people can totally ignore it but I cannot, to the point where I will either get up and take the faucet to bits and run out to Lowe's at 8 pm to see if I can buy a new washer to go in it. (Or, more likely: get up and put in my earplugs).
But lots of little things bug me. I think one of the reasons it's so successful for me to do simple knitting while I read is that it mops up the excess attention I have. The attention that would normally be racing around, going "What's that noise?" or "Do I need to do laundry?" Otherwise, that attention goes after other stuff and drags my main attention away from what I'm doing.
I don't talk about the little things that bug me a lot in public (Even though sitting across from someone in a meeting where they are doing one of those things leads to kind of a miserable meeting) because, as I said, it's a "princess and the pea" issue. And I try to avoid being a "princess" whenever possible.
But it's going to be hard to get used to the new way to drive in to work.
So yeah, not so much with the Blogiversary celebration this year. But next year - if the world still exists, if the Internet hasn't been taken over by some evil entity, and if Blogger or some simulacrum still exists (too cheap to buy my own domain and too cack-handed with coding to use one of the less idiot-proof softwares), it will be my tenth blogiversary. So there's that. I'll have to plan something for that.
***
I got Potter back out last night. I thought I was to the point of binding off for the armholes on the back, but not yet. I also need to just gut up and do the picking-up-of-stitches to finish the neckline of Thermal.
(I admit - I've partly held off finishing Thermal because of the photograph aspect. For some reason - I don't know what, stress, dry weather, or the new moisturizer I'm using being no good for me - my chin is broken out. Not badly, but as someone who usually has very clear skin, it bothers me. (And yeah, dry weather can make me break out. Go figure.) So I'm waiting for that to clear before I think about photographs. (I might also need to change moisturizers again. I don't think my skin likes this one. Sigh.) Usually if I break out it's on my chin or forehead.)
***
I was thinking about stuff as I drove in this morning. I took the "new route," the one I will have to take once construction on the intersection starts. The new route is longer, less direct, and goes through an area that has a bad blind corner (or not so much a blind corner, but a place where one street takes a "jog" and you can't really easily see traffic coming on the cross street. Some of our streets here in town are messed up - some start and end unpredictably, some will be straight for a few blocks and then jog over. I don't know if it's that the town was built in parts, or when the streets were built they had to jog around things, or if they just didn't hire a very good planner, but I still get lost in some parts of town despite it being small and my having lived here over 10 years)
The new route bothers me. I find it aesthetically displeasing because it is not direct the way the old route was.
And I realized that's a problem I have with a lot of things. I think of it as kind of a "Princess and the Pea Issue." It's small things, that intrude themselves on my consciousness, that bug me. I know I shouldn't be bugged by them, I know it's completely irrational to be, and yet I am. It's kind of like a dripping faucet when you are trying to read. Some people can totally ignore it but I cannot, to the point where I will either get up and take the faucet to bits and run out to Lowe's at 8 pm to see if I can buy a new washer to go in it. (Or, more likely: get up and put in my earplugs).
But lots of little things bug me. I think one of the reasons it's so successful for me to do simple knitting while I read is that it mops up the excess attention I have. The attention that would normally be racing around, going "What's that noise?" or "Do I need to do laundry?" Otherwise, that attention goes after other stuff and drags my main attention away from what I'm doing.
I don't talk about the little things that bug me a lot in public (Even though sitting across from someone in a meeting where they are doing one of those things leads to kind of a miserable meeting) because, as I said, it's a "princess and the pea" issue. And I try to avoid being a "princess" whenever possible.
But it's going to be hard to get used to the new way to drive in to work.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
What I control.
(Gah, my blogiversary is sneaking up on me - I think it's tomorrow - and I am sufficiently bouleversée that a blogiversary is something hard to think about right now. Maybe I will have to postpone it and do a belated blogiversary)
I'm revisiting the thing I talked about the other day. ("comfort, clean laundry, and pie." Which I think I should write out on a little card and post up unobtrusively in my office).
A lot has been made of the "new domesticity" - I remember it beginning with the upsurge in knitting, and it's just continued on through with things like the craft blogs and the books (some books better than others) that came out of the craft blogs. And the "slow foods" movement. And cocooning, which I think has been going on for at least 20 years now? I think that's when Faith Popcorn first mentioned it?
And a lot of people seemed kind of...puzzled?... by the concept of New Domesticity. I remember reading some people's interpretation, and it seemed almost a bit hysterical* - implying that women were being dragged by their hair back into the kitchen, and presumably the unshoddening and impregnation would come shortly after.
(*yes, I am using that word here ENTIRELY intentionally).
And I admit a certain puzzlement at THAT reaction. I tend to be of the "if you're not hurting anyone or doing anything immoral, I don't really care what you do" school of thought. Sure, some people would rather remove their own wisdom teeth** than bake a cake, but fine, whatever, that's them. People should be permitted to do what makes them happy (given the two caveats above). And for me, and for many other people, what makes them happy is knitting. Or quilting. And for others it's baking bread. Or building dulcimers. Or trying to recreate foods like Pop-Tarts in a healthier and home-made form. Or painting. Or making their kid's room "just so." Or whatever.
(** I actually knew a person (now deceased) who claimed to have done that when he was in the army in Korea. Apparently dentistry was not high on the agenda at that point in time, and the teeth were really bothering him. I am not sure whether to believe that or not. And as I said, he's now gone, so I can't press for more information)
I think actually part of the reason for the "new domesticity" is a desire to have control over a little corner of the world - and regardless of what some claim, much if not all of it did NOT start in the wake of the September 11, 2001 attacks; the resurgence of knitting was already well underway. (I know. I took knitting back up again around 1997 and already there was lots of stuff on the internet - dear old Woolworks, for example, was there, with its index of free patterns. And there were sites you could order yarn from. And there were some other pattern sites, and there was the Free Patterns Knitting Ring.)
I suspect that part of the desire to take crafts - or things like baking - or things like making a nice home - or even things like housework*** is related to two desires: first, to have a sense of control in this crazy world, and second, and relatedly, to feel a sense of mastery or skill.
(***I have a large, and rather persnickety, book called "Home Comforts" that is essentially the care and feeding of a house and its furnishings. Fascinating stuff, but I twitch at the advice about doing things like changing pillowcases daily.)
I think a lot of people in this world do kind of grasp at an idea of having control. The world can be a scary and unpredictable place, and so being able to do things like make sure the laundry is clean and there is a comfortable place to sit in the living room and that there is pie when someone's birthday rolls around - well, that's bringing a bit of order to an uncertain world.
And also, I think a lot of people do so much "virtual" work, where there's nothing to be able to point to at the end of the day and say "I made that" (and that's part of my periodical career frustration, I am sure. I need tangibility) that people want to do stuff like play instruments, or write poetry, or, heck, write blogs...so that the time they passed becomes visible, or at least can be experienced for a time (as with music, but then the tangible part is the learning, the improvement). And so they feel some sense of control in the world: putting THIS precise word exactly HERE. Building a dollhouse to your own exact architectural specifications. Going old-school photography and using film and a darkroom. We are made to use tools, and I think maybe we get a little sad when we feel too cut off from tools.
And likewise, the question of mastery: developing a skill. Being able to sort of quietly admit to yourself that you're good at something. (And sometimes, the pleasure is actually in being SECRETLY good at something; being good at something outside of your work or the other things you "must" do.) And there is also a degree of control in the mastery, too: being able to make the piano make sounds that are concordant and that (at least somewhat) match what the composer wrote out, being able to take a few yards of cloth and make a blouse, being able to take a mile or so of yarn and convert it into a sweater or a shawl. It makes you feel (well, it makes ME feel) that the world is a little less random and disturbing, and that's something I need right now.
Because. Because I got a phone call from my parents yesterday. On top of all the other stuff going on, a family friend is in the hospital with leukemia. Apparently the chemotherapy wasn't enough and they are prepping for a bone marrow transplant. And while a person can pray, that's ALL a person can do in this case. (And, well, I suppose, get on the bone-marrow registry. Though this person already has a good-match donor)
I got this news about an hour before my piano lesson. While I was perhaps a bit distracted, still, it was strangely a bit of a relief to sit down and play. Because it was all I had to think about at that moment. And I had some measure of control over it. (Though still, when I'm tired or upset about something and trying to play, sometimes my fingers will do random unwanted things, like my pinky finger losing tone and hitting a key I don't want it to hit).
And I came home and read journal articles. And you know, it really was pleasant. I just sat down and read, read about a floodplain forest in Arkansas and some of the upland forests in Georgia that are a little bit like our upland forests and I found some articles cited in those that I want to look for, and I can see that people are still using the same field techniques I learned back in the day, and the analyses makes sense and use the same techniques I plan on using.
And I was learning stuff. Learning about how the composition of southeastern forests is somewhat different from that of midwest forests (I'm primarily a prairie girl and have done comparatively little intensive study of forests). I learned that winged elm is sometimes called "wahoo" as a common name. And it made me happy, because even when data are a little bit messy and hard to interpret, still, there's something, I don't know, kind of predictable about them. Or, the fact that you don't control them doesn't matter as much...I've often said that one reason I like ecology is that getting an unexpected result, one that disproves your hypothesis, is often more interesting than actually supporting it. And leads to new studies.
And I sat and knitted on a simple pair of socks while I read, and I played some music.
I think I need to get back to listening to music more again. It's one of those small comforts of life that makes things so much better. Yes, I can make music now, but it's also nice to be able to listen to other people make it.
I pulled out one of my sets of CDs. (Yes, I still use CDs. I know lots of people who have gone entirely digital with their music files, but I still like having the physical CD. That may be partly because my old laptop suffered through two fairly catastrophic failures, including one that required "cloning" the hard drive, wiping it clean, and then getting (most) of the stuff (I lost some data from my dissertation, luckily I had other copes) back on the cleaned and fixed drive. And if I do get an e-reader - and I'm seriously considering the cheapest of the Kindle models, now that I read they've improved their interface for .pdf files - I will still keep my book-books. And certainly continue to buy book-books even as I buy or download (the older ones, for free) e-books.)
But I also like having the physical object, just because the object qua**** object can be pleasing sometimes.
(**** I once SWORE I would never use that term, because it sounds so pretentious to me, but it actually kind of works here.)
I decided I wanted to hear some Mendelssohn. I have a three-disk set of his symphonies. I bought it a while back (well over a year) from either Amazon or ArkivMusik. I had wanted a version of his Restoration Symphony and also his Scottish Symphony. What I finally chose was a Chandos set - a boxed set.
And I have to admit, I was very pleased with it when it came. Not just for the music, but for how it was packaged - a square, shiny black box made of very heavy glazed cardboard. And inside, there was the obligatory explicative booklet, and the three CDs. Each of them in its own little paper sleeve.
You have to understand. I grew up in what was still the vinyl era. Yes, my family had an 8-track player and a few tapes, and when the Walkman came out, I got (a knock-off brand of) one. But my earliest memories of recorded music - and really, my main memories of classical music and of the soundtracks/operettas my parents listened to involved records. (I remember, for example, either having my mom help me put on - or when I got older, putting on myself - the record that had the soundtrack to Sound of Music and dancing and twirling around the living room, and acting out some of the scenes from the movie. Yeah. I was kind of a weird little kid.)
So the little paper sleeves put me in mind of the records my parents had - especially the SRS BZNESS classical multi-sets, like of the Beethoven symphonies, all in their individual sleeves in the box or folder. And it made me smile, because I could see in my mind's eye where we used to keep the records (even though my parents have not lived in that house for 20 years) and how it felt to pick them up, and how there was that sort of tense moment, as a kid, when I soooooo carefully put the needle down, terrified of scratching it.
And I do think there's a pleasure - and a comfort, too - in nicely presented objects, in things that are neat and precise and maybe designed to remind you a bit of their historical antecedents (I kind of love Deutsche Grammophon's CDs, because many of them are actually printed to resemble a very small replica of a vinyl record).
And so, I will try, in these coming days and weeks, to remember that there are some things I have control over. Some things I can make comfortable and nice. And to be grateful for those things and celebrate them. And to try to let the things I don't have control over go. (I'm a lot better about doing that for things OTHER THAN THOSE which involve my work, sigh.)
oh look, it's the random maunderings tag again....
I'm revisiting the thing I talked about the other day. ("comfort, clean laundry, and pie." Which I think I should write out on a little card and post up unobtrusively in my office).
A lot has been made of the "new domesticity" - I remember it beginning with the upsurge in knitting, and it's just continued on through with things like the craft blogs and the books (some books better than others) that came out of the craft blogs. And the "slow foods" movement. And cocooning, which I think has been going on for at least 20 years now? I think that's when Faith Popcorn first mentioned it?
And a lot of people seemed kind of...puzzled?... by the concept of New Domesticity. I remember reading some people's interpretation, and it seemed almost a bit hysterical* - implying that women were being dragged by their hair back into the kitchen, and presumably the unshoddening and impregnation would come shortly after.
(*yes, I am using that word here ENTIRELY intentionally).
And I admit a certain puzzlement at THAT reaction. I tend to be of the "if you're not hurting anyone or doing anything immoral, I don't really care what you do" school of thought. Sure, some people would rather remove their own wisdom teeth** than bake a cake, but fine, whatever, that's them. People should be permitted to do what makes them happy (given the two caveats above). And for me, and for many other people, what makes them happy is knitting. Or quilting. And for others it's baking bread. Or building dulcimers. Or trying to recreate foods like Pop-Tarts in a healthier and home-made form. Or painting. Or making their kid's room "just so." Or whatever.
(** I actually knew a person (now deceased) who claimed to have done that when he was in the army in Korea. Apparently dentistry was not high on the agenda at that point in time, and the teeth were really bothering him. I am not sure whether to believe that or not. And as I said, he's now gone, so I can't press for more information)
I think actually part of the reason for the "new domesticity" is a desire to have control over a little corner of the world - and regardless of what some claim, much if not all of it did NOT start in the wake of the September 11, 2001 attacks; the resurgence of knitting was already well underway. (I know. I took knitting back up again around 1997 and already there was lots of stuff on the internet - dear old Woolworks, for example, was there, with its index of free patterns. And there were sites you could order yarn from. And there were some other pattern sites, and there was the Free Patterns Knitting Ring.)
I suspect that part of the desire to take crafts - or things like baking - or things like making a nice home - or even things like housework*** is related to two desires: first, to have a sense of control in this crazy world, and second, and relatedly, to feel a sense of mastery or skill.
(***I have a large, and rather persnickety, book called "Home Comforts" that is essentially the care and feeding of a house and its furnishings. Fascinating stuff, but I twitch at the advice about doing things like changing pillowcases daily.)
I think a lot of people in this world do kind of grasp at an idea of having control. The world can be a scary and unpredictable place, and so being able to do things like make sure the laundry is clean and there is a comfortable place to sit in the living room and that there is pie when someone's birthday rolls around - well, that's bringing a bit of order to an uncertain world.
And also, I think a lot of people do so much "virtual" work, where there's nothing to be able to point to at the end of the day and say "I made that" (and that's part of my periodical career frustration, I am sure. I need tangibility) that people want to do stuff like play instruments, or write poetry, or, heck, write blogs...so that the time they passed becomes visible, or at least can be experienced for a time (as with music, but then the tangible part is the learning, the improvement). And so they feel some sense of control in the world: putting THIS precise word exactly HERE. Building a dollhouse to your own exact architectural specifications. Going old-school photography and using film and a darkroom. We are made to use tools, and I think maybe we get a little sad when we feel too cut off from tools.
And likewise, the question of mastery: developing a skill. Being able to sort of quietly admit to yourself that you're good at something. (And sometimes, the pleasure is actually in being SECRETLY good at something; being good at something outside of your work or the other things you "must" do.) And there is also a degree of control in the mastery, too: being able to make the piano make sounds that are concordant and that (at least somewhat) match what the composer wrote out, being able to take a few yards of cloth and make a blouse, being able to take a mile or so of yarn and convert it into a sweater or a shawl. It makes you feel (well, it makes ME feel) that the world is a little less random and disturbing, and that's something I need right now.
Because. Because I got a phone call from my parents yesterday. On top of all the other stuff going on, a family friend is in the hospital with leukemia. Apparently the chemotherapy wasn't enough and they are prepping for a bone marrow transplant. And while a person can pray, that's ALL a person can do in this case. (And, well, I suppose, get on the bone-marrow registry. Though this person already has a good-match donor)
I got this news about an hour before my piano lesson. While I was perhaps a bit distracted, still, it was strangely a bit of a relief to sit down and play. Because it was all I had to think about at that moment. And I had some measure of control over it. (Though still, when I'm tired or upset about something and trying to play, sometimes my fingers will do random unwanted things, like my pinky finger losing tone and hitting a key I don't want it to hit).
And I came home and read journal articles. And you know, it really was pleasant. I just sat down and read, read about a floodplain forest in Arkansas and some of the upland forests in Georgia that are a little bit like our upland forests and I found some articles cited in those that I want to look for, and I can see that people are still using the same field techniques I learned back in the day, and the analyses makes sense and use the same techniques I plan on using.
And I was learning stuff. Learning about how the composition of southeastern forests is somewhat different from that of midwest forests (I'm primarily a prairie girl and have done comparatively little intensive study of forests). I learned that winged elm is sometimes called "wahoo" as a common name. And it made me happy, because even when data are a little bit messy and hard to interpret, still, there's something, I don't know, kind of predictable about them. Or, the fact that you don't control them doesn't matter as much...I've often said that one reason I like ecology is that getting an unexpected result, one that disproves your hypothesis, is often more interesting than actually supporting it. And leads to new studies.
And I sat and knitted on a simple pair of socks while I read, and I played some music.
I think I need to get back to listening to music more again. It's one of those small comforts of life that makes things so much better. Yes, I can make music now, but it's also nice to be able to listen to other people make it.
I pulled out one of my sets of CDs. (Yes, I still use CDs. I know lots of people who have gone entirely digital with their music files, but I still like having the physical CD. That may be partly because my old laptop suffered through two fairly catastrophic failures, including one that required "cloning" the hard drive, wiping it clean, and then getting (most) of the stuff (I lost some data from my dissertation, luckily I had other copes) back on the cleaned and fixed drive. And if I do get an e-reader - and I'm seriously considering the cheapest of the Kindle models, now that I read they've improved their interface for .pdf files - I will still keep my book-books. And certainly continue to buy book-books even as I buy or download (the older ones, for free) e-books.)
But I also like having the physical object, just because the object qua**** object can be pleasing sometimes.
(**** I once SWORE I would never use that term, because it sounds so pretentious to me, but it actually kind of works here.)
I decided I wanted to hear some Mendelssohn. I have a three-disk set of his symphonies. I bought it a while back (well over a year) from either Amazon or ArkivMusik. I had wanted a version of his Restoration Symphony and also his Scottish Symphony. What I finally chose was a Chandos set - a boxed set.
And I have to admit, I was very pleased with it when it came. Not just for the music, but for how it was packaged - a square, shiny black box made of very heavy glazed cardboard. And inside, there was the obligatory explicative booklet, and the three CDs. Each of them in its own little paper sleeve.
You have to understand. I grew up in what was still the vinyl era. Yes, my family had an 8-track player and a few tapes, and when the Walkman came out, I got (a knock-off brand of) one. But my earliest memories of recorded music - and really, my main memories of classical music and of the soundtracks/operettas my parents listened to involved records. (I remember, for example, either having my mom help me put on - or when I got older, putting on myself - the record that had the soundtrack to Sound of Music and dancing and twirling around the living room, and acting out some of the scenes from the movie. Yeah. I was kind of a weird little kid.)
So the little paper sleeves put me in mind of the records my parents had - especially the SRS BZNESS classical multi-sets, like of the Beethoven symphonies, all in their individual sleeves in the box or folder. And it made me smile, because I could see in my mind's eye where we used to keep the records (even though my parents have not lived in that house for 20 years) and how it felt to pick them up, and how there was that sort of tense moment, as a kid, when I soooooo carefully put the needle down, terrified of scratching it.
And I do think there's a pleasure - and a comfort, too - in nicely presented objects, in things that are neat and precise and maybe designed to remind you a bit of their historical antecedents (I kind of love Deutsche Grammophon's CDs, because many of them are actually printed to resemble a very small replica of a vinyl record).
And so, I will try, in these coming days and weeks, to remember that there are some things I have control over. Some things I can make comfortable and nice. And to be grateful for those things and celebrate them. And to try to let the things I don't have control over go. (I'm a lot better about doing that for things OTHER THAN THOSE which involve my work, sigh.)
oh look, it's the random maunderings tag again....
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Finding the silly (II)
Okay, I think I can adequately convey the way my past day was with a movie clip. Sadly, I'm neither as clever nor as gutsy as Jack Nicholson's character is here, but this is kind of how I feel about rules piled upon rules that contradict other rules:
That said, a student suggested a (temporary, will work for this week) solution to the problem that, while not ideal, is better than nothing. (I decided to go with blunt honesty about the problem - well, not down to blaming the person who cause the problem, but saying "there's a problem" and "here's the only solution I can see.") His solution was better than mine.
Then our campus internet crashed so I couldn't get any more journal articles this afternoon. So now I am at home. And that's the truth, pbbbblllllttttt.
(Operating on four hours or so of sleep is not good for me. Even though I grew up believing Grown Ups were "supposed" to watch the SOTU speech every year, I think I'm going to bed extra early tonight)
That said, a student suggested a (temporary, will work for this week) solution to the problem that, while not ideal, is better than nothing. (I decided to go with blunt honesty about the problem - well, not down to blaming the person who cause the problem, but saying "there's a problem" and "here's the only solution I can see.") His solution was better than mine.
Then our campus internet crashed so I couldn't get any more journal articles this afternoon. So now I am at home. And that's the truth, pbbbblllllttttt.
(Operating on four hours or so of sleep is not good for me. Even though I grew up believing Grown Ups were "supposed" to watch the SOTU speech every year, I think I'm going to bed extra early tonight)
Finding the silly
I think that's the best I can do at this point. If I can find some.
Yes, I'm up kind of early; I don't have to be in until 8 and as I was awake until about 11 last night, I tried setting my alarm for 6:30 instead of 5, as I normally do. But my stupid body woke me up at 4:30.
The good news is that I have but one class today. So I'm going to go in, do a bit of research work before my 11 am class, grab some more journal articles, then just come home for lunch and spend the afternoon before piano lesson alternately reading articles and practicing piano.
I dunno. Yesterday afternoon I was driving home and had to deal with our typical "wonderful" drivers (had someone cut me off at a four-way stop again. Um, people? You do know that the first person to arrive at a four-way stop is the person with the right of way, and it proceeds from there in the order that people arrived? It's not the person who WANTS to go first the most who gets to go first...) And then I got behind someone driving very slowly in a minivan. Slowly because they were using their cell phone. And they'd sit once a light had turned green for just until I had my hand on the horn and was ready to press. And I try not to be all judgey but this was like a 30-year-old woman with a Twilight-themed license plate holder.
And I just hit that wall I hit occasionally, where I feel like I'm wasting my life, and nothing I really do makes any difference. And I got home and called my mom because she used to be a professor and told her all the problems and wound up really crying and my voice getting all high and squeaky and inaudible like it used to when I would really cry hard (but hadn't, for at least 10 years). And someone somewhere else commented about how I seemed to look to my job for fulfillment, and I thought of the horrible thing a Smug Married once said to me (And this, people, is how words, even lightly-tossed-out words, perhaps intended to be funny at the time, can become like shrapnel, to continue to cause problems for the recipient even years later), "Oh, so you have a career. Does your career ever tell you it loves you?" Dammit.
Well, yeah. I DO look to my job for fulfillment. I don't have a whole lot else, or it feels like that some days.
So, whatever. Just, whatever. I want to throw up my hands, give the world the stink-eye, and say, "All y'alls are CRAZY" and go into my sewing room and shut and lock the door. But I can't. So I think of the dang boats beating against the current at the end of The Great Gatsby (even though Gatsby died and everyone else in that book was really kind of depressing to read about). Or about stupid spoiled Scarlett O'Hara making a dress out of the drapes because there was no other cloth to be had. So I pick myself up and go in to work and start working all over again. Fall down seven times (or rather, I think, sometimes: be knocked down seven times); get up eight.
Yes, I'm up kind of early; I don't have to be in until 8 and as I was awake until about 11 last night, I tried setting my alarm for 6:30 instead of 5, as I normally do. But my stupid body woke me up at 4:30.
The good news is that I have but one class today. So I'm going to go in, do a bit of research work before my 11 am class, grab some more journal articles, then just come home for lunch and spend the afternoon before piano lesson alternately reading articles and practicing piano.
I dunno. Yesterday afternoon I was driving home and had to deal with our typical "wonderful" drivers (had someone cut me off at a four-way stop again. Um, people? You do know that the first person to arrive at a four-way stop is the person with the right of way, and it proceeds from there in the order that people arrived? It's not the person who WANTS to go first the most who gets to go first...) And then I got behind someone driving very slowly in a minivan. Slowly because they were using their cell phone. And they'd sit once a light had turned green for just until I had my hand on the horn and was ready to press. And I try not to be all judgey but this was like a 30-year-old woman with a Twilight-themed license plate holder.
And I just hit that wall I hit occasionally, where I feel like I'm wasting my life, and nothing I really do makes any difference. And I got home and called my mom because she used to be a professor and told her all the problems and wound up really crying and my voice getting all high and squeaky and inaudible like it used to when I would really cry hard (but hadn't, for at least 10 years). And someone somewhere else commented about how I seemed to look to my job for fulfillment, and I thought of the horrible thing a Smug Married once said to me (And this, people, is how words, even lightly-tossed-out words, perhaps intended to be funny at the time, can become like shrapnel, to continue to cause problems for the recipient even years later), "Oh, so you have a career. Does your career ever tell you it loves you?" Dammit.
Well, yeah. I DO look to my job for fulfillment. I don't have a whole lot else, or it feels like that some days.
So, whatever. Just, whatever. I want to throw up my hands, give the world the stink-eye, and say, "All y'alls are CRAZY" and go into my sewing room and shut and lock the door. But I can't. So I think of the dang boats beating against the current at the end of The Great Gatsby (even though Gatsby died and everyone else in that book was really kind of depressing to read about). Or about stupid spoiled Scarlett O'Hara making a dress out of the drapes because there was no other cloth to be had. So I pick myself up and go in to work and start working all over again. Fall down seven times (or rather, I think, sometimes: be knocked down seven times); get up eight.
Monday, January 24, 2011
The only response
Sometimes I feel as if this is the only appropriate response to the vagaries of life.
I need to go to bed but I'm in that keyed-up, not-tired state I get into when something upsets me.
I need to go to bed but I'm in that keyed-up, not-tired state I get into when something upsets me.
Next mood swing...
I can't really talk about it in detail; it's bureaucracy-related, and it's just overwhelming me right now.
I may not be able to do my job the way I'm supposed to do it. That's about the most I can say.
This kind of thing drives me WILD. Frothing, starting-to-tear-up, wanting to cuss someone out or kick a wall wild.
The problem is, I'm a rule-follower. I try to do everything "right." And yet, some people insist on changing the rules, or setting up Catch-22 rules, and it makes my rule-following head explode. (Seriously. I developed an almost insta-migraine. I'm sure it's blood pressure. And I'm sure I probably need to go see a doctor to be sure my blood pressure has not got chronically high since the last time I had it checked).
It doubly frustrates me because I spent part of the afternoon dealing with Gen Y "help me, help meeeeeee" cluelessness at its most stereotypical, and I'm tired, and I just wanted this ONE thing to go smoothly.
The other bad thing about this, is I am too good at seeing the potential future fallout. Doing what I seem to have to do about this will win me bad teaching evaluations. Which will lead to me being called in for uncomfortable meetings when "tenure review" time rolls around, and if we do go to a "merit raise" system (as has been rumored), that means I'll never get a raise. I will be the loser against whom everyone else gets to be above average. (That's the dirty secret of Lake Woebegone: the next town over is where they send all the underachieving children; they work in a paper mill.)
(I'm trying to joke my way out of this mood but it's not working).
I don't know whether I want to go home and just sit down and cry, or go out and run ALL THE ERRANDS I had planned on running this afternoon.
This is way too damn early in the semester for me to be feeling this overwhelmed.
Let's see: comfort, laundry, pie. Well, I did laundry yesterday and I doubt I have the energy to consider baking a pie. I'm kind of starting to draw a blank. I should go home (after my errands) and clean house; maybe being angry will make me more efficient. I don't know.
Some days I really wish I had the funds (and a big enough house) for a live-in chef, live-in cleaner, and live-in amanuensis who would take care of stuff like dealing with bureaucrats for me. Going it all alone all the time gets to be hard to bear.
I may not be able to do my job the way I'm supposed to do it. That's about the most I can say.
This kind of thing drives me WILD. Frothing, starting-to-tear-up, wanting to cuss someone out or kick a wall wild.
The problem is, I'm a rule-follower. I try to do everything "right." And yet, some people insist on changing the rules, or setting up Catch-22 rules, and it makes my rule-following head explode. (Seriously. I developed an almost insta-migraine. I'm sure it's blood pressure. And I'm sure I probably need to go see a doctor to be sure my blood pressure has not got chronically high since the last time I had it checked).
It doubly frustrates me because I spent part of the afternoon dealing with Gen Y "help me, help meeeeeee" cluelessness at its most stereotypical, and I'm tired, and I just wanted this ONE thing to go smoothly.
The other bad thing about this, is I am too good at seeing the potential future fallout. Doing what I seem to have to do about this will win me bad teaching evaluations. Which will lead to me being called in for uncomfortable meetings when "tenure review" time rolls around, and if we do go to a "merit raise" system (as has been rumored), that means I'll never get a raise. I will be the loser against whom everyone else gets to be above average. (That's the dirty secret of Lake Woebegone: the next town over is where they send all the underachieving children; they work in a paper mill.)
(I'm trying to joke my way out of this mood but it's not working).
I don't know whether I want to go home and just sit down and cry, or go out and run ALL THE ERRANDS I had planned on running this afternoon.
This is way too damn early in the semester for me to be feeling this overwhelmed.
Let's see: comfort, laundry, pie. Well, I did laundry yesterday and I doubt I have the energy to consider baking a pie. I'm kind of starting to draw a blank. I should go home (after my errands) and clean house; maybe being angry will make me more efficient. I don't know.
Some days I really wish I had the funds (and a big enough house) for a live-in chef, live-in cleaner, and live-in amanuensis who would take care of stuff like dealing with bureaucrats for me. Going it all alone all the time gets to be hard to bear.
Comfort, laundry, pie
While I'm not sure I'd feel comfortable paying the prices listed for some of the goods at Brook Farm, I have to admit I can get behind the ethos of the shop - at least, as presented by Cintra Wilson. (Though one quibble: I have no problem at all with doilies or "frippery." In fact, I have a doily - one I crocheted - sitting underneath the clock/thermometer/humidity meter that sits on my piano, so it doesn't scratch it)
But I do agree with the idea of making one's one home a comfortable place, a haven, a place where you can (as I often do) say a small prayer of thanks when you lock the front door and know you're "in for the night."
I particularly liked this line: "...comfort, clean laundry and pie are home remedies that are still among the best, oldest, most sensible antidotes to the stresses of a brutal world."
Yes. And I would also add, a pot of soup simmering on the stove, or a cup of hot tea on a cold day, a small quilt or blanket folded on the back of the sofa in case you get cold while reading, and candles on the fireplace mantel, a stack of catalogs with pages dogeared of things you might like to order...all of the little "homely" (in the UK sense) touches of things that might not make it in a decorating-magazine photo shoot, but which make life good and right, having those very comforts close to hand.
But I do agree with the idea of making one's one home a comfortable place, a haven, a place where you can (as I often do) say a small prayer of thanks when you lock the front door and know you're "in for the night."
I particularly liked this line: "...comfort, clean laundry and pie are home remedies that are still among the best, oldest, most sensible antidotes to the stresses of a brutal world."
Yes. And I would also add, a pot of soup simmering on the stove, or a cup of hot tea on a cold day, a small quilt or blanket folded on the back of the sofa in case you get cold while reading, and candles on the fireplace mantel, a stack of catalogs with pages dogeared of things you might like to order...all of the little "homely" (in the UK sense) touches of things that might not make it in a decorating-magazine photo shoot, but which make life good and right, having those very comforts close to hand.
Good and bad
In some ways, it was a restful weekend. I finished the sleeves for Thermal, and then on Sunday afternoon, I finished the Flower Show quilt top. (IF I am home some afternoon this week, and IF the sun is actually out, I'll take it out and hang it on the line and photograph it. But that may not happen until Saturday).
However, I came in this morning to several low-grade drama filled e-mail messages. I don't hate Mondays but I do hate coming in and getting smacked with several fires that I will have to put out even though I shouldn't be the person who has to.
However, I came in this morning to several low-grade drama filled e-mail messages. I don't hate Mondays but I do hate coming in and getting smacked with several fires that I will have to put out even though I shouldn't be the person who has to.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
This is new...
...A would-be spammer (or so I assume) copying and pasting the text from one of my blogposts as a comment on that post.
I can't imagine what purpose that would serve (couldn't see any embedded links), but it's going into the virtual circular file with the rest of the spam.
I can't imagine what purpose that would serve (couldn't see any embedded links), but it's going into the virtual circular file with the rest of the spam.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
In his sleevies...
("that would be, 'Where does Napoleon keep his armies,' Alex")
The sleeves of Thermal are done. Not sure if I have the motivation to pick up ALL THE STITCHES around the neckline to do the last bit of knitting before the sewing-up. (Such as it is - all that is needed will be to sew in the sleeves and, I think, stitch down the placket; the sweater is almost entirely knit in the round, which is really rather nice. I don't like sewing up knitted items that well and I have to be very careful or it looks sloppy.)
I made an effort to work the increases into the pattern as neatly as possible. It's little things like this that please me and that I think really set a handknit garment apart from the "You know you can buy sweaters at Kohl's, don't you?" kind:
I'm still thinking about new projects. Like the nice cabled cardigan from New England Knits that I have some pretty honey-colored yarn put aside for. Or finally getting to the Skye Tweed pullover vest I've been planning to knit for five years or so. Or maybe restarting some stalled old projects, like the Rosy-Fingered Dawn shawl.
It's funny, every winter I get this burst of energy, of wanting to do a lot of things. I think it's the cooler weather, and also maybe that my allergies are less than they are much of the rest of the year.
The sleeves of Thermal are done. Not sure if I have the motivation to pick up ALL THE STITCHES around the neckline to do the last bit of knitting before the sewing-up. (Such as it is - all that is needed will be to sew in the sleeves and, I think, stitch down the placket; the sweater is almost entirely knit in the round, which is really rather nice. I don't like sewing up knitted items that well and I have to be very careful or it looks sloppy.)
I made an effort to work the increases into the pattern as neatly as possible. It's little things like this that please me and that I think really set a handknit garment apart from the "You know you can buy sweaters at Kohl's, don't you?" kind:
I'm still thinking about new projects. Like the nice cabled cardigan from New England Knits that I have some pretty honey-colored yarn put aside for. Or finally getting to the Skye Tweed pullover vest I've been planning to knit for five years or so. Or maybe restarting some stalled old projects, like the Rosy-Fingered Dawn shawl.
It's funny, every winter I get this burst of energy, of wanting to do a lot of things. I think it's the cooler weather, and also maybe that my allergies are less than they are much of the rest of the year.
Friday, January 21, 2011
A day off
If I can push myself to do my little bit of grading, and read a few more journal articles, I am taking tomorrow OFF.
For one thing: the boiler's out (it's a long story) in part of the classroom building, and while the office area has heat, it's not up to its normal hotness. In the classrooms, I get cold, and it's hard for me to get warmed up again. And it's chilly enough in here. (It's about 21 degrees C, which is warm enough, except when you're sedentary - sitting at a desk typing or reading - it really ISN'T. And no, I am not hailing the coming of any new kind of Treadmill Desk Overlord, despite what some hip workplaces are doing).
For another: this is probably the calm before the storm and I really should take free time when I can.
For yet another: I want to finish Thermal, and I want to do that when I'm not tired from a full day at work. And then I want to think about what sweater's next: do I just continue on with Potter, or do I keep to my SOP of two-sweaters-on-the-needles?
I will confess: back, earlier in the fall, when I was stressed out from the packet-preparation, I looked into, and wound up ordering, the yarn needed for the Prince of Wales vest in Folk Vests. This is an ultra-traditional British Fair Isle vest, very similar in style to one that King Edward the Whatever was shown wearing once.
It's Jamieson Jumper Weight - sort of analogous to a US sport weight. Knit on size 3 needles. I know, I know, I said I was sick of sweaters on size 3s, but....it's colorwork. Which I haven't done in a long time. And it's one of those things that follows a chart. I love patterns that follow charts - much more so than the ones where you are supposed to knit the thing for X inches until you do the next thing.
With charts - especially BIG charts that have a large chunk of the pattern on them - you can see your progress. You can see how with each row on the chart marked off, you're getting closer and closer to the sweater being done. Your time knitting, somehow, is made more visible, more tangible.
The sweater vest is also steeked. I have never done steeks before. (For non knitters: this is where you allow in a couple extra stitches, then either sew or crochet a "stopper" on either side of them, and then CUT the knitting to form armholes or the neckline. It's a scary, scary process for many knitters. But I own a sewing machine (the standard way of finishing off before you steek). And at any rate, the steeks are one of those things I can think about "another day" (like Scarlett O'Hara said). It'll be months and months of knitting before I come to those.
The other option, I'm thinking, is to do another worsted-weight vest. (I have oh, so many worsted-weight-vests' worth of yarn ahead...some pink, and some leaf green, and some oatmeal colored and some variegated).
Or pull out the BRIGHT turquoise yarn I bought from Elann and start the Basketweave pullover. (The yarn really is very bright. And yet, I think it will be a good color on me.)
I want to KNIT ALL THE THINGS. Or at least START ALL THE THINGS.
For one thing: the boiler's out (it's a long story) in part of the classroom building, and while the office area has heat, it's not up to its normal hotness. In the classrooms, I get cold, and it's hard for me to get warmed up again. And it's chilly enough in here. (It's about 21 degrees C, which is warm enough, except when you're sedentary - sitting at a desk typing or reading - it really ISN'T. And no, I am not hailing the coming of any new kind of Treadmill Desk Overlord, despite what some hip workplaces are doing).
For another: this is probably the calm before the storm and I really should take free time when I can.
For yet another: I want to finish Thermal, and I want to do that when I'm not tired from a full day at work. And then I want to think about what sweater's next: do I just continue on with Potter, or do I keep to my SOP of two-sweaters-on-the-needles?
I will confess: back, earlier in the fall, when I was stressed out from the packet-preparation, I looked into, and wound up ordering, the yarn needed for the Prince of Wales vest in Folk Vests. This is an ultra-traditional British Fair Isle vest, very similar in style to one that King Edward the Whatever was shown wearing once.
It's Jamieson Jumper Weight - sort of analogous to a US sport weight. Knit on size 3 needles. I know, I know, I said I was sick of sweaters on size 3s, but....it's colorwork. Which I haven't done in a long time. And it's one of those things that follows a chart. I love patterns that follow charts - much more so than the ones where you are supposed to knit the thing for X inches until you do the next thing.
With charts - especially BIG charts that have a large chunk of the pattern on them - you can see your progress. You can see how with each row on the chart marked off, you're getting closer and closer to the sweater being done. Your time knitting, somehow, is made more visible, more tangible.
The sweater vest is also steeked. I have never done steeks before. (For non knitters: this is where you allow in a couple extra stitches, then either sew or crochet a "stopper" on either side of them, and then CUT the knitting to form armholes or the neckline. It's a scary, scary process for many knitters. But I own a sewing machine (the standard way of finishing off before you steek). And at any rate, the steeks are one of those things I can think about "another day" (like Scarlett O'Hara said). It'll be months and months of knitting before I come to those.
The other option, I'm thinking, is to do another worsted-weight vest. (I have oh, so many worsted-weight-vests' worth of yarn ahead...some pink, and some leaf green, and some oatmeal colored and some variegated).
Or pull out the BRIGHT turquoise yarn I bought from Elann and start the Basketweave pullover. (The yarn really is very bright. And yet, I think it will be a good color on me.)
I want to KNIT ALL THE THINGS. Or at least START ALL THE THINGS.
A revolting development...
I suppose I should thank the Motor Pool Lady for forwarding the information on to me; as I let my subscription to the local newspaper expire*, I don't get this kind of information easily.
They are going to start construction to "upgrade" the intersection nearest me. In February. It will stretch until August. During much of that time, the intersection will either be closed or sounds like it will be navigable but dangerous (one lane each way, and it converts to a four-way stop instead of having a stoplight and PEOPLE HERE DO NOT KNOW HOW TO DO FOUR-WAY STOPS.)
The is the intersection I take every morning to go to work. It's the one I use to get downtown. It's the one I use to get to the Green Spray. I'm going to have to re-learn new routes for everything. Being a creature of habit, I'm not happy about this. (Also, the next-best route to get to work has a very ugly blind corner on it: I expect there to be accidents there)
This will also likely mean traffic on my little street will increase. And I will probably have construction noise and dust during the time, as I'm pretty close to the intersection in question.
I guess I better take these next two weeks and start learning the new routes so that I'm not caught flat-footed that first Monday when everything closes down. I probably better make a little sign to put in my car that says "avoid First and Mulberry!" to remind myself not to start driving home on autopilot and then grumble when I wind up having to take a circuitous route to get home.
(* I let the subscription lapse because (a) they dropped several features I had enjoyed, (b) the paper occasionally would not show up when it was supposed to, and (c) it ALWAYS showed up when I didn't want it - my requests for "vacation hold" never got passed on to the carrier. Also, it was pretty expensive for something that was six or eight pages many days, with two of those pages being local sports.)
They are going to start construction to "upgrade" the intersection nearest me. In February. It will stretch until August. During much of that time, the intersection will either be closed or sounds like it will be navigable but dangerous (one lane each way, and it converts to a four-way stop instead of having a stoplight and PEOPLE HERE DO NOT KNOW HOW TO DO FOUR-WAY STOPS.)
The is the intersection I take every morning to go to work. It's the one I use to get downtown. It's the one I use to get to the Green Spray. I'm going to have to re-learn new routes for everything. Being a creature of habit, I'm not happy about this. (Also, the next-best route to get to work has a very ugly blind corner on it: I expect there to be accidents there)
This will also likely mean traffic on my little street will increase. And I will probably have construction noise and dust during the time, as I'm pretty close to the intersection in question.
I guess I better take these next two weeks and start learning the new routes so that I'm not caught flat-footed that first Monday when everything closes down. I probably better make a little sign to put in my car that says "avoid First and Mulberry!" to remind myself not to start driving home on autopilot and then grumble when I wind up having to take a circuitous route to get home.
(* I let the subscription lapse because (a) they dropped several features I had enjoyed, (b) the paper occasionally would not show up when it was supposed to, and (c) it ALWAYS showed up when I didn't want it - my requests for "vacation hold" never got passed on to the carrier. Also, it was pretty expensive for something that was six or eight pages many days, with two of those pages being local sports.)
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Wanting to start
First off, the weather. The local weather people had me well-scared this morning with their talk of "parking lots like skating rinks!" and other things. I called the campus news line three times, each time got the "Winter's here! Drive safely!" message that they put up when people THINK the school might be closing but it is not.
So when I packed my lunch, I put in an extra piece of fruit and packet of nuts. I was thinking, "In case I get stuck over there at least I'll have something to eat without having to rely on the vending machine" (which tends to either break down or be empty in times like these).
I also grabbed my current simple-sock project, and made sure I had EVERYTHING I would need to go all the way through its knitting (scissors, tapestry needle, measuring tape) just in case. Just in case my doors freeze shut or the roads are covered with ice or who knows what happens.
And of course, I step gingerly out the door, expecting my stoop to be icy.
Nope. A cold rain was falling but it's just rain. As far as I can tell, it's still just-raining now. It might get worse later on, I don't know, but I guess I'm going to have to add "weather forecasters" to my list of "people where you need to discount what they are saying by at least 20%, maybe more if they are panicking."
***
I'm really wanting to start new projects. I keep going to my small-projects yarn box (well, one of them. I admit to having more than one box full of sockyarn). I've pulled out yarn for "simple socks" (the ones where there is no stitch pattern or cabling or lace or anything), I've pulled out yarn that I want to use to make my own pair of "Brewster Stockings" (from several-issues-ago Piecework. And I like the yarn I chose for them: a very historical sock pattern, made of purplish-pink Dream in Color yarn (the color name is "Punky Fuchsia." Um, yeah.)). I'm looking at the various sock books and trying to decide what yarn goes with what pattern.
And most recently, I found some Regia Silk 6-ply (in my sewing room clean up) that I want to use for the Cranford Mitts (pattern available here, they ask you make a small donation in return for the pattern.)
I'm going to do them in a dark brown, with cream for the "accents." I like that as I think it's both fitting for the historical style of the pattern, and also a color combination that will work well with what I wear a lot. (And I'm having to use the mitts more this winter; it's been colder. Some days I wear a pair of fingerless mitts for practicing piano).
So there are a lot of things I want to start. This happens periodically; I think it happens to a lot of knitters.
Some call it "startitis." (but there are some that don't like that term and observe that it is technically inaccurate (yes, I know: I used to work with a Medical Terminology person).
I'm not sure what would replace it. Startmania might work, but it's kind of clunky and ugly, and also, you want to be careful using mental-health terms very freely.
And the only other option I can think of, considering an "excess flow of start," would be very, very bad. (Startorrhea).
I'm not sure what (and if there is) a medical term for "desire," (other than the kind of "desire" that those couples-sitting-in-bathtubs-out-on-the-beach ads discuss), but that might be the appropriate one.
I don't know. So far I've resisted casting on for anything new, and instead forced myself to work on existing projects.
So when I packed my lunch, I put in an extra piece of fruit and packet of nuts. I was thinking, "In case I get stuck over there at least I'll have something to eat without having to rely on the vending machine" (which tends to either break down or be empty in times like these).
I also grabbed my current simple-sock project, and made sure I had EVERYTHING I would need to go all the way through its knitting (scissors, tapestry needle, measuring tape) just in case. Just in case my doors freeze shut or the roads are covered with ice or who knows what happens.
And of course, I step gingerly out the door, expecting my stoop to be icy.
Nope. A cold rain was falling but it's just rain. As far as I can tell, it's still just-raining now. It might get worse later on, I don't know, but I guess I'm going to have to add "weather forecasters" to my list of "people where you need to discount what they are saying by at least 20%, maybe more if they are panicking."
***
I'm really wanting to start new projects. I keep going to my small-projects yarn box (well, one of them. I admit to having more than one box full of sockyarn). I've pulled out yarn for "simple socks" (the ones where there is no stitch pattern or cabling or lace or anything), I've pulled out yarn that I want to use to make my own pair of "Brewster Stockings" (from several-issues-ago Piecework. And I like the yarn I chose for them: a very historical sock pattern, made of purplish-pink Dream in Color yarn (the color name is "Punky Fuchsia." Um, yeah.)). I'm looking at the various sock books and trying to decide what yarn goes with what pattern.
And most recently, I found some Regia Silk 6-ply (in my sewing room clean up) that I want to use for the Cranford Mitts (pattern available here, they ask you make a small donation in return for the pattern.)
I'm going to do them in a dark brown, with cream for the "accents." I like that as I think it's both fitting for the historical style of the pattern, and also a color combination that will work well with what I wear a lot. (And I'm having to use the mitts more this winter; it's been colder. Some days I wear a pair of fingerless mitts for practicing piano).
So there are a lot of things I want to start. This happens periodically; I think it happens to a lot of knitters.
Some call it "startitis." (but there are some that don't like that term and observe that it is technically inaccurate (yes, I know: I used to work with a Medical Terminology person).
I'm not sure what would replace it. Startmania might work, but it's kind of clunky and ugly, and also, you want to be careful using mental-health terms very freely.
And the only other option I can think of, considering an "excess flow of start," would be very, very bad. (Startorrhea).
I'm not sure what (and if there is) a medical term for "desire," (other than the kind of "desire" that those couples-sitting-in-bathtubs-out-on-the-beach ads discuss), but that might be the appropriate one.
I don't know. So far I've resisted casting on for anything new, and instead forced myself to work on existing projects.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Back to lessons
I started the new term of piano lessons yesterday afternoon. (this makes what, the beginning of my third year at them?)
I'm still working on Hanon. I'm up to the so-called "transcendent" exercises (which makes me laugh a little - transcendence really doesn't describe how I feel the first 30 or so times I play one of them). I'm also working on a Kabalevsky piece - five themes on a Russian folksong or somesuch. It was "assigned" over break and I worked on it some (at least, during the time I was in my own house). My teacher said I had made good progress on it but you know, I can't quite "feel" Kalalevsky the way I can "feel" Bach. I think part of it is that I know and like Bach - have listened to his music since childhood - and I didn't even really know of the existence of Kabalevsky before I started piano.
(Even the Wikipedia page on him doesn't give me much of a feel for him - apparently he was well-liked by the Soviet leadership, he was big in music education, and his later works are sometimes described as "popular, bland, and successful." I suppose it's possible that there is more in common between Bach's worldview and mine than between Kabalevsky's and mine, and that's why I have a hard time feeling what he is trying to "say" with the piece I'm learning. But I do feel like I can't quite get inside the composer's head the way I can with some of the other stuff I've learned.)
I also concluded - to my teacher's satisfaction - the work on the theme from "Wachet Auf!" and now have started on an arrangement of Grieg's "Morning" (from Peer Gynt). I expect that this piece will be a not-very-many-weeks' work for me; I could pretty well play the arrangement through this morning with the first 20 minutes or so of trying it. (But sometimes it's kind of fun to have something you can master quickly).
One thing I am doing is going back and revisiting pieces I learned previously. I'm doing this partly to see my own progress - for example, reviving "Ecossaise in G," I realized that my fingers have become stronger and I'm much better at doing staccato notes "crisply" than I was back when I first learned it. But I'm also fond of the idea of having a memorized "repertoire" that I can pull out easily, either when I'm practicing and bored or having a hard time with what I'm trying to work on, or, on the off chance that either someone comes and visits me and wants to hear me play, or I'm somewhere where there's a piano and someone wants to hear me play.
Also, really, part of the reason I am learning piano is for the same reason that Madeline L'Engle talked about learning it: to be able to come home at the end of the day, and to be able to play a piece all the way through, with reasonable precision.
One of the things about learning anything - any new skill - is that there's a "hard part" and a "fun part." And you have to work through the hard part to get to the fun part. (Though if you're like me, sometimes the discipline and the progress of the "hard part" is kind of fun, too. Or at least rewarding.) And so, now that I can see that I'm approaching more of the "fun part" of being able to play the piano, I want to take advantage of it.
I'm still working on Hanon. I'm up to the so-called "transcendent" exercises (which makes me laugh a little - transcendence really doesn't describe how I feel the first 30 or so times I play one of them). I'm also working on a Kabalevsky piece - five themes on a Russian folksong or somesuch. It was "assigned" over break and I worked on it some (at least, during the time I was in my own house). My teacher said I had made good progress on it but you know, I can't quite "feel" Kalalevsky the way I can "feel" Bach. I think part of it is that I know and like Bach - have listened to his music since childhood - and I didn't even really know of the existence of Kabalevsky before I started piano.
(Even the Wikipedia page on him doesn't give me much of a feel for him - apparently he was well-liked by the Soviet leadership, he was big in music education, and his later works are sometimes described as "popular, bland, and successful." I suppose it's possible that there is more in common between Bach's worldview and mine than between Kabalevsky's and mine, and that's why I have a hard time feeling what he is trying to "say" with the piece I'm learning. But I do feel like I can't quite get inside the composer's head the way I can with some of the other stuff I've learned.)
I also concluded - to my teacher's satisfaction - the work on the theme from "Wachet Auf!" and now have started on an arrangement of Grieg's "Morning" (from Peer Gynt). I expect that this piece will be a not-very-many-weeks' work for me; I could pretty well play the arrangement through this morning with the first 20 minutes or so of trying it. (But sometimes it's kind of fun to have something you can master quickly).
One thing I am doing is going back and revisiting pieces I learned previously. I'm doing this partly to see my own progress - for example, reviving "Ecossaise in G," I realized that my fingers have become stronger and I'm much better at doing staccato notes "crisply" than I was back when I first learned it. But I'm also fond of the idea of having a memorized "repertoire" that I can pull out easily, either when I'm practicing and bored or having a hard time with what I'm trying to work on, or, on the off chance that either someone comes and visits me and wants to hear me play, or I'm somewhere where there's a piano and someone wants to hear me play.
Also, really, part of the reason I am learning piano is for the same reason that Madeline L'Engle talked about learning it: to be able to come home at the end of the day, and to be able to play a piece all the way through, with reasonable precision.
One of the things about learning anything - any new skill - is that there's a "hard part" and a "fun part." And you have to work through the hard part to get to the fun part. (Though if you're like me, sometimes the discipline and the progress of the "hard part" is kind of fun, too. Or at least rewarding.) And so, now that I can see that I'm approaching more of the "fun part" of being able to play the piano, I want to take advantage of it.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
this looks ominous.
Thursday's weather forcast:
It's supposed to be snow and sleet, but it looks like an attack by cotton balls.
(This is supposed to come Thursday. Luckily I'm done by 12:15 that day so if it looks bad I can bug out and go home.)
It's supposed to be snow and sleet, but it looks like an attack by cotton balls.
(This is supposed to come Thursday. Luckily I'm done by 12:15 that day so if it looks bad I can bug out and go home.)
best tomato soup
One of the cooking magazines I get - probably my favorite, right now - is called Cook's Country. (website is here. They're a publication of America's Test Kitchens, and they do test a lot of things (they usually rate at least one kitchen utensil and one ingredient per issue; and interestingly, often it's NOT the most expensive one that's the most highly rated).
One of the reasons I like the magazine so much is that they describe the experimentation process that leads up to the development of their recipes - how some things don't work, how the different ingredients lead to different properties in the finished dish. Kitchen science, really, and that makes it interesting to me - I always like seeing the thought process that goes into making stuff. (A long time ago I said I didn't care as much for the knitting/craft blogs that were just pretty pictures of finished stuff; what I found more interesting was the person's descriptions of why they chose the yarn they did, and how and why they modified the pattern (if they did), and what gave them problems with the pattern and what they found satisfying about it).
Also, the recipes - at least, those I have made - are good.
This month's issue had an excellent one - a tomato soup made using canned diced tomatoes. It's a bit fiddlier than some recipes (you save back part of the tomatoes, and you cook the rest just until they caramelize, and then you puree the finished soup), but it's extremely good.
One thing the recipe developer noted that s/he found surprising: the needed ingredient to fix an "off" taste in the soup was baking soda.
I don't find that odd at all. Lots of the older recipes you see for tomato soup call for a very small amount (I think this recipe - with 2, 28 ounce cans of tomatoes - had 1/2 tsp). It neutralizes a bit of the acid and also, in this case, probably softens the remaining cell walls (or, more likely, the middle lamellae holding the cells together) and makes the soup easier to puree.
I'm not sharing the recipe - I'm unsure about copyright with a current publication - but if you can get your hands on the Jan/Feb 2011 issue of Cook's Country, the recipe is in there. I dare say it's worth the price of the magazine on the newsstand if you don't subscribe. (There's also a pot roast recipe, and "Sunday gravy" (an Italian meat sauce), and pastitso, and a basic yellow cake recipe, among others). (You can request a free trial issue on the website, but I have no idea whether it's a current issue or not)
One of the reasons I like the magazine so much is that they describe the experimentation process that leads up to the development of their recipes - how some things don't work, how the different ingredients lead to different properties in the finished dish. Kitchen science, really, and that makes it interesting to me - I always like seeing the thought process that goes into making stuff. (A long time ago I said I didn't care as much for the knitting/craft blogs that were just pretty pictures of finished stuff; what I found more interesting was the person's descriptions of why they chose the yarn they did, and how and why they modified the pattern (if they did), and what gave them problems with the pattern and what they found satisfying about it).
Also, the recipes - at least, those I have made - are good.
This month's issue had an excellent one - a tomato soup made using canned diced tomatoes. It's a bit fiddlier than some recipes (you save back part of the tomatoes, and you cook the rest just until they caramelize, and then you puree the finished soup), but it's extremely good.
One thing the recipe developer noted that s/he found surprising: the needed ingredient to fix an "off" taste in the soup was baking soda.
I don't find that odd at all. Lots of the older recipes you see for tomato soup call for a very small amount (I think this recipe - with 2, 28 ounce cans of tomatoes - had 1/2 tsp). It neutralizes a bit of the acid and also, in this case, probably softens the remaining cell walls (or, more likely, the middle lamellae holding the cells together) and makes the soup easier to puree.
I'm not sharing the recipe - I'm unsure about copyright with a current publication - but if you can get your hands on the Jan/Feb 2011 issue of Cook's Country, the recipe is in there. I dare say it's worth the price of the magazine on the newsstand if you don't subscribe. (There's also a pot roast recipe, and "Sunday gravy" (an Italian meat sauce), and pastitso, and a basic yellow cake recipe, among others). (You can request a free trial issue on the website, but I have no idea whether it's a current issue or not)
Monday, January 17, 2011
Day spent quilting
Like lots of other people employed (or "technically" employed) by the government, I had today off.
(They do encourage people to go and do some public-service projects. I didn't; I'm still fighting this cold a little bit - my throat was worse when I got up this morning. And I think the public service is actually more aimed at the students, anyway).
I spent most of the day working on quilt projects, as I often do when I have a bigger chunk of time.
I did some hand quilting (and will probably do more, this evening).
I'm down to two more "triangle" blocks (plus this one in-progress), one of the "big" blocks (the red and white 16-patch next to the one I'm quilting on), and the borders. I'm beginning to get excited about this project again because it's nearly done. That's how I always am with projects: excited about them at the beginning, then I hit a wall somewhere in the middle and just have to keep pushing along to get to the point where it's nearly done, where I then get excited about it again.
I have binding put aside - a plain yellow that I think will pick up the yellow flowers in that red print, which makes up much of the quilt.
I've decided that my "next quilt" in this frame is going to be this one:
For one thing, it will be fairly fast - I think I'm going to do an "x" in each square block and then some kind of little cable design in the one wide border - but also because I really like all the novelty prints in it and want to quilt it up. (And I have a fun backing for it, too).
I also worked some on one of the quilt tops I had started and had kind of not worked on all fall long, when I was so busy.
It's still not done yet; there are (I think) five more of the print strips to attach (with their sashing), and then wide borders of the white fabric that go around the outside. The pattern is called "Flower Show," it is from the Spring 2010 "Quilts and More" (which is a Better Homes and Gardens imprint).
I think one of my goals this spring is to piece more tops, and to get in and go through all my stacks of "fabrics I want to use together" and start putting them together into tops. Even if I wind up "leaving behind" a lot of unquilted tops - or even if I wind up donating a bunch to somewhere that will quilt or tie them to be used for various good works. One thing I realized when trying to deal with the mouse issue is that I have a rather shocking amount of fabric.
So rather than "saving" fabric for "just the perfect pattern," I'm going to focus more on finding patterns I want to sew, and then just using fabric out of my stash for them.
(They do encourage people to go and do some public-service projects. I didn't; I'm still fighting this cold a little bit - my throat was worse when I got up this morning. And I think the public service is actually more aimed at the students, anyway).
I spent most of the day working on quilt projects, as I often do when I have a bigger chunk of time.
I did some hand quilting (and will probably do more, this evening).
I'm down to two more "triangle" blocks (plus this one in-progress), one of the "big" blocks (the red and white 16-patch next to the one I'm quilting on), and the borders. I'm beginning to get excited about this project again because it's nearly done. That's how I always am with projects: excited about them at the beginning, then I hit a wall somewhere in the middle and just have to keep pushing along to get to the point where it's nearly done, where I then get excited about it again.
I have binding put aside - a plain yellow that I think will pick up the yellow flowers in that red print, which makes up much of the quilt.
I've decided that my "next quilt" in this frame is going to be this one:
For one thing, it will be fairly fast - I think I'm going to do an "x" in each square block and then some kind of little cable design in the one wide border - but also because I really like all the novelty prints in it and want to quilt it up. (And I have a fun backing for it, too).
I also worked some on one of the quilt tops I had started and had kind of not worked on all fall long, when I was so busy.
It's still not done yet; there are (I think) five more of the print strips to attach (with their sashing), and then wide borders of the white fabric that go around the outside. The pattern is called "Flower Show," it is from the Spring 2010 "Quilts and More" (which is a Better Homes and Gardens imprint).
I think one of my goals this spring is to piece more tops, and to get in and go through all my stacks of "fabrics I want to use together" and start putting them together into tops. Even if I wind up "leaving behind" a lot of unquilted tops - or even if I wind up donating a bunch to somewhere that will quilt or tie them to be used for various good works. One thing I realized when trying to deal with the mouse issue is that I have a rather shocking amount of fabric.
So rather than "saving" fabric for "just the perfect pattern," I'm going to focus more on finding patterns I want to sew, and then just using fabric out of my stash for them.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Saturday morning news
Came in to the office this morning to a big envelope from the Dean's office.
(Unlike college admissions, you can't judge whether the news is good or bad depending on the thickness of the envelope).
I opened it, saying a little prayer that it be good news.
Yes, it is. At least, as far as things have gone. She is recommending me for Full Professor. There are, however, two more administrators who have to agree to the promotion and it could still get wrecked on the shoals of bad budgetary times, but at least I know I've passed the first two hurdles.
(Actually, I KNEW I had passed the first one: last week in church my "outside the department" committeemember asked me if I'd heard anything and I said no, he was surprised. And then he said, "I don't anticipate you having any trouble with the administration." And then he kind of grinned and said, "Our meeting for you took all of 45 seconds." (meaning, I assume, they were all so confident that no one had any questions or concerns)
So: I still don't have it yet but I feel like I'm a lot closer.
ETA: Someone posted this on CPAAG for another person who was feeling overwhelmed, but it made me laugh and so I'm going to put it up here as some further encouragement to myself.
(Unlike college admissions, you can't judge whether the news is good or bad depending on the thickness of the envelope).
I opened it, saying a little prayer that it be good news.
Yes, it is. At least, as far as things have gone. She is recommending me for Full Professor. There are, however, two more administrators who have to agree to the promotion and it could still get wrecked on the shoals of bad budgetary times, but at least I know I've passed the first two hurdles.
(Actually, I KNEW I had passed the first one: last week in church my "outside the department" committeemember asked me if I'd heard anything and I said no, he was surprised. And then he said, "I don't anticipate you having any trouble with the administration." And then he kind of grinned and said, "Our meeting for you took all of 45 seconds." (meaning, I assume, they were all so confident that no one had any questions or concerns)
So: I still don't have it yet but I feel like I'm a lot closer.
ETA: Someone posted this on CPAAG for another person who was feeling overwhelmed, but it made me laugh and so I'm going to put it up here as some further encouragement to myself.
Nice big project
Feeling much better this morning. I broke down and took a couple ibuprofen last night, and also a loratidine tablet. And I ran the humidifier all night, and my throat is almost completely better. So if this is a cold, it seems that I'm at the fighting-it-off stage.
Also, I have seen no further evidence of mice since plugging the exit hole. And my big bottle of peppermint oil came, so I wiped down multiple surfaces with it, and plan to occasionally refresh as needed. (I also can use the peppermint oil as a headache remedy; I've read that mixing a few drops with a "neutral" oil like almond oil and massaging it into the temples can stop a headache. I'm going to try that because I really do not like gulping down pills every time I get a headache. And a lot of mine seem to be sinus-caused, so maybe the peppermint oil will help with that).
I pulled out a project I started over break and got back to work on it. This is the "Miss Marple Shawl" (which is how I always will think of it). It was a vintage pattern (called something like "Stripes of openwork and stocking stitch") that was reprinted in an issue of Piecework last year. I'm using the Silk Garden sockweight yarn I had in the stash for it, and I'm really pleased at how nicely the yarn and the pattern work together. The yarn stripes; the pattern stripes. They don't necessarily stripe together, but it still works and looks pretty.
The slightly "rustic" quality of the yarn also seems nice with the pattern; almost like what someone living in St. Mary's Mead in the 1930s would find at one of the shops in the High Street. (Okay, maybe the color combinations are not so much - though even that, most of them are muted; there's a dove grey in there, and a moss green, but also a bright turquoise. Though more than many yarns of the Noro line, the colors work together without seeming garish).
I will have to watch as I knit. You are supposed to do 13 repeats of the pattern before starting the decreases. I'm hoping I will have enough yarn. (I often worry that). If I don't seem to, I may have to make the shawl smaller. I figure because it's a simple increase/decrease based repeat, if I have to do 12 or 11 repeats instead, I'll be fine and will still come up with a square shawl. (Though it may not be an issue. I'm on repeat 5 and I still have maybe 1/3 of the first ball left...but I'm going to watch that second ball carefully, because I need to be starting with the second side at or before the end of the second ball...or else start searching on Ravelry or other places for another skein of the yarn in the same colors...)
It's an easily enough memorized pattern, and yet, at the same time, it's really not boring the way some plain knitting is. (I suppose the striping yarn helps.)
Some year, if I wind up ever in an instance again when I need a Halloween costume, it seems that Miss Marple would work well for me - pin my hair up and either buy or borrow a white wig (or perhaps get some of that theatrical dust stuff that makes one's hair look white and put it in there), wear a tweed skirt and a plain blouse and one of my cardigans or shawls (and I even have a pair of lace-up heeled shoes. I haven't worn them in years but I suppose they still fit). And carry my knitting. Of course, some people would probably guess "grandma" when they saw me, but maybe the more literary-minded ones would know. (Perhaps I could get a small Union Jack pin and wear it on my collar, so people might be more prone to guess "Oh, it's a British character")
Also, I have seen no further evidence of mice since plugging the exit hole. And my big bottle of peppermint oil came, so I wiped down multiple surfaces with it, and plan to occasionally refresh as needed. (I also can use the peppermint oil as a headache remedy; I've read that mixing a few drops with a "neutral" oil like almond oil and massaging it into the temples can stop a headache. I'm going to try that because I really do not like gulping down pills every time I get a headache. And a lot of mine seem to be sinus-caused, so maybe the peppermint oil will help with that).
I pulled out a project I started over break and got back to work on it. This is the "Miss Marple Shawl" (which is how I always will think of it). It was a vintage pattern (called something like "Stripes of openwork and stocking stitch") that was reprinted in an issue of Piecework last year. I'm using the Silk Garden sockweight yarn I had in the stash for it, and I'm really pleased at how nicely the yarn and the pattern work together. The yarn stripes; the pattern stripes. They don't necessarily stripe together, but it still works and looks pretty.
The slightly "rustic" quality of the yarn also seems nice with the pattern; almost like what someone living in St. Mary's Mead in the 1930s would find at one of the shops in the High Street. (Okay, maybe the color combinations are not so much - though even that, most of them are muted; there's a dove grey in there, and a moss green, but also a bright turquoise. Though more than many yarns of the Noro line, the colors work together without seeming garish).
I will have to watch as I knit. You are supposed to do 13 repeats of the pattern before starting the decreases. I'm hoping I will have enough yarn. (I often worry that). If I don't seem to, I may have to make the shawl smaller. I figure because it's a simple increase/decrease based repeat, if I have to do 12 or 11 repeats instead, I'll be fine and will still come up with a square shawl. (Though it may not be an issue. I'm on repeat 5 and I still have maybe 1/3 of the first ball left...but I'm going to watch that second ball carefully, because I need to be starting with the second side at or before the end of the second ball...or else start searching on Ravelry or other places for another skein of the yarn in the same colors...)
It's an easily enough memorized pattern, and yet, at the same time, it's really not boring the way some plain knitting is. (I suppose the striping yarn helps.)
Some year, if I wind up ever in an instance again when I need a Halloween costume, it seems that Miss Marple would work well for me - pin my hair up and either buy or borrow a white wig (or perhaps get some of that theatrical dust stuff that makes one's hair look white and put it in there), wear a tweed skirt and a plain blouse and one of my cardigans or shawls (and I even have a pair of lace-up heeled shoes. I haven't worn them in years but I suppose they still fit). And carry my knitting. Of course, some people would probably guess "grandma" when they saw me, but maybe the more literary-minded ones would know. (Perhaps I could get a small Union Jack pin and wear it on my collar, so people might be more prone to guess "Oh, it's a British character")
Friday, January 14, 2011
Good to have...
...friends in library places.
I was looking for a particular article, and Tweeted my dismay at not being able to get access to it through our various subscription services. One of the people that follows me (and that I follow. There should be a term for mutual following in Twitter) sent me a message asking for the citation, as she might be able to find it.
She works at the Bodleian Library. THE BODLEIAN. As a book-nerd and library-nerd from childhood, that just thrills me. I sent the citation, doubting they'd have it (it's from a technical soils journal).
I get a message back: Send me your e-mail so I can send you the .pdf.
Awesome. While I can't use the techniques discussed in the article (I was hoping, but no, it would probably take an $80,000 plus grant to get the lab up to speed for it), still, it's an interesting idea.
I'm doing sort of a desultory literature search this afternoon. I must start planning my summer research and while I have an idea, I'm not sure if (a) it's been done already (b) it's just not that interesting and therefore not worth doing or (c) there's something better I could do. So I'm checking up recent literature on the geographic area I'm in to see if there are any ideas that leap out at me.
On the one hand, I'm thrilled not to be looking forward to a summer of struggling to keep up with fast-moving classes but on the other I'm scared I won't come up with good enough research and will wind up wasting the summer.
I was looking for a particular article, and Tweeted my dismay at not being able to get access to it through our various subscription services. One of the people that follows me (and that I follow. There should be a term for mutual following in Twitter) sent me a message asking for the citation, as she might be able to find it.
She works at the Bodleian Library. THE BODLEIAN. As a book-nerd and library-nerd from childhood, that just thrills me. I sent the citation, doubting they'd have it (it's from a technical soils journal).
I get a message back: Send me your e-mail so I can send you the .pdf.
Awesome. While I can't use the techniques discussed in the article (I was hoping, but no, it would probably take an $80,000 plus grant to get the lab up to speed for it), still, it's an interesting idea.
I'm doing sort of a desultory literature search this afternoon. I must start planning my summer research and while I have an idea, I'm not sure if (a) it's been done already (b) it's just not that interesting and therefore not worth doing or (c) there's something better I could do. So I'm checking up recent literature on the geographic area I'm in to see if there are any ideas that leap out at me.
On the one hand, I'm thrilled not to be looking forward to a summer of struggling to keep up with fast-moving classes but on the other I'm scared I won't come up with good enough research and will wind up wasting the summer.
In other news
I seem to have acquired a cold. I've had a scratchy throat off and on for several days; I blamed it on the dryness and tried using a saltwater gargle to help it. And I've been sneezing and kind of congested.
But now today I'm more tired than I should be, and I sort of ache. The good news is I have nothing strenuous that needs to be done this weekend (and I get Monday off). But I may have to dial back the expectations (especially in re: coming in on the weekend and doing some heavy-duty research planning) for now. (Especially since the heat is partially broken in my classroom/office building, and it's kind of miserable to be cold when you're sick).
But now today I'm more tired than I should be, and I sort of ache. The good news is I have nothing strenuous that needs to be done this weekend (and I get Monday off). But I may have to dial back the expectations (especially in re: coming in on the weekend and doing some heavy-duty research planning) for now. (Especially since the heat is partially broken in my classroom/office building, and it's kind of miserable to be cold when you're sick).
Marsupial mama monster
Another toy I knit over break. This is from another Dangercrafts pattern; it's called "Daphne and Delilah." It's mama and baby monsters.
Note that the mama has a pouch to carry her baby in. I would have loved a toy like this when I was a kid, in part because of the ability to tuck the baby in the pocket and have everything all neat and together. (I had a mama and baby kangaroo toy when I was a kid)
I decided to give them different names than in the pattern. But they needed alliterative names, so I named them Gretchen (the mama) and Gracie (the baby).
Gracie has her mother's eyes.
Note that the mama has a pouch to carry her baby in. I would have loved a toy like this when I was a kid, in part because of the ability to tuck the baby in the pocket and have everything all neat and together. (I had a mama and baby kangaroo toy when I was a kid)
I decided to give them different names than in the pattern. But they needed alliterative names, so I named them Gretchen (the mama) and Gracie (the baby).
Gracie has her mother's eyes.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
And it's cold
This is something I overheard on campus the other day. It was Tuesday, a/k/a "move-in" day.
I guess some of the students hadn't bothered to check the weather forecast for here or something.
But there was one guy - walking around in those nylon basketball shorts, and a t-shirt, and I don't think he even had socks on with his sneakers. (And I was wearing my Paddington Bear coat, and a scarf, and gloves).
And the guy sees one of his buddies, and yells out to him: "Why did we come back to [expletive deleted] Oklahoma? We're [expletive deleted] idiots!!!"
And I thought: You may consider yourself to be an idiot but I don't think "coming back to Oklahoma" is the behavior that is the most idiotic here.
(Really, I wonder where he was before he came back here...Brazil? Because most of North America has been, if not frigid, unseasonably cold of late.)
(I also commented to the campus nurse about there being people moving in wearing just shorts and t-shirts and she kind of laughed and said, "Let me guess the gender of the person..." Though I would more blame it on the decade of life that the person was in than on his gender; I've certainly seem my share of inappropriately-dressed female students)
I guess some of the students hadn't bothered to check the weather forecast for here or something.
But there was one guy - walking around in those nylon basketball shorts, and a t-shirt, and I don't think he even had socks on with his sneakers. (And I was wearing my Paddington Bear coat, and a scarf, and gloves).
And the guy sees one of his buddies, and yells out to him: "Why did we come back to [expletive deleted] Oklahoma? We're [expletive deleted] idiots!!!"
And I thought: You may consider yourself to be an idiot but I don't think "coming back to Oklahoma" is the behavior that is the most idiotic here.
(Really, I wonder where he was before he came back here...Brazil? Because most of North America has been, if not frigid, unseasonably cold of late.)
(I also commented to the campus nurse about there being people moving in wearing just shorts and t-shirts and she kind of laughed and said, "Let me guess the gender of the person..." Though I would more blame it on the decade of life that the person was in than on his gender; I've certainly seem my share of inappropriately-dressed female students)
It's dry out.
This video is pretty funny (and I have to say, huge props to the backup dancers for strutting it, even though they don't have what the media would call "perfect" bodies. I'd be way too self conscious to put on a leotard and dance in a video.). But it also serves as a reminder to me.
Though, truth be told, I don't know that cream will totally prevent wrinkles. And the real reason I use the various moisturizers I am using right now is to prevent my skin from itching like crazy and then flaking off.
(I think actually, wrinkles are less an effect of moisturization and more a combination of genetics and lifestyle choices like tanning and smoking. As of yet, I really don't have any wrinkles (maybe a few tiny crow's feet forming around the eyes, but I doubt it's possible to totally avoid those). I think I got lucky, genetically; my mother looks considerably younger than her age, as did HER mother. I've also read - and I suppose this is one small consolation I can take - that women who are "heavier" are less prone to wrinkling. (My paternal grandmother didn't have many wrinkles, and she was built kind of like me.) I have avoided tanning (mainly because I was too antsy to lie in the sun for more than a few moments at a time) and smoking. I've also read that diet can affect it, that eating enough nutrients is important, that things like Vitamin C have an effect on collagen, which has an effect on wrinkling. (Of course, in its most severe form, Vitamin C deficiency leads to scurvy, which is essentially a breakdown in collagen production. But by that point you have more things to worry about than wrinkles.)
But yeah. Dryness is not good for other reasons; I know if I'm not careful to moisturize after showering at night I can be kept awake by agonizing itching/burning on my back or legs. Right now I'm using a "calming body wash" (which has the added benefit of being hypoallergenic). I think Eucerin makes it? It's very gentle and is unscented and doesn't have dyes in it. And then, after showering, I use a Palmer's brand oil, which seems to do a lot to stop me from itching. But the drawback is that it's kind of a heavy oil, and I have to wait a few minutes in the bathroom for it to absorb before I think about putting my pajamas on. And the other drawback is that because it's composed of cocoa, coconut, and almond oils, you come out smelling kind of like a giant Almond Joy. Though maybe some people might not find that such a drawback...
Though, truth be told, I don't know that cream will totally prevent wrinkles. And the real reason I use the various moisturizers I am using right now is to prevent my skin from itching like crazy and then flaking off.
(I think actually, wrinkles are less an effect of moisturization and more a combination of genetics and lifestyle choices like tanning and smoking. As of yet, I really don't have any wrinkles (maybe a few tiny crow's feet forming around the eyes, but I doubt it's possible to totally avoid those). I think I got lucky, genetically; my mother looks considerably younger than her age, as did HER mother. I've also read - and I suppose this is one small consolation I can take - that women who are "heavier" are less prone to wrinkling. (My paternal grandmother didn't have many wrinkles, and she was built kind of like me.) I have avoided tanning (mainly because I was too antsy to lie in the sun for more than a few moments at a time) and smoking. I've also read that diet can affect it, that eating enough nutrients is important, that things like Vitamin C have an effect on collagen, which has an effect on wrinkling. (Of course, in its most severe form, Vitamin C deficiency leads to scurvy, which is essentially a breakdown in collagen production. But by that point you have more things to worry about than wrinkles.)
But yeah. Dryness is not good for other reasons; I know if I'm not careful to moisturize after showering at night I can be kept awake by agonizing itching/burning on my back or legs. Right now I'm using a "calming body wash" (which has the added benefit of being hypoallergenic). I think Eucerin makes it? It's very gentle and is unscented and doesn't have dyes in it. And then, after showering, I use a Palmer's brand oil, which seems to do a lot to stop me from itching. But the drawback is that it's kind of a heavy oil, and I have to wait a few minutes in the bathroom for it to absorb before I think about putting my pajamas on. And the other drawback is that because it's composed of cocoa, coconut, and almond oils, you come out smelling kind of like a giant Almond Joy. Though maybe some people might not find that such a drawback...
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Academic Festival Overture
In honor of the first day of a new semester, I once again present Brahms' "Academic Festival Overture," this time, a version recorded in 1927 with Otto Klemperer conducting.
I have said before that this is one of my favorite pieces of music, that it is one that can usually cheer me up when I am feeling low or snap me back into a mood of being able to work again when I'm slacking.
And that it captures some of the feeling of what I imagined the "romance" of campus life to be (before I learned that it's not really all sitting around in coffeehouses or beer halls talking about Deep Ideas or being surrounded by charmingly and amusingly eccentric colleagues who do things like conduct the amateur orchestra made up of professors and play with toy trains*)
(*Huge number of bonus points to anyone who gets that allusion.)
The Overture is largely composed of student drinking songs - in a way, it's a bit of a musical joke - Brahms apparently composed it as a joking response to a demand for a "thank you" in the form of a musical composition from the University of Breslau, which had granted him an honorary doctorate the year before.
Wikipedia, which I know isn't always the most reliable source, has it thus:
Haha. If that's true I kind of love Brahms for it.
More Brahms:
I wonder if the "real" Brahms would have found that amusing.
I have said before that this is one of my favorite pieces of music, that it is one that can usually cheer me up when I am feeling low or snap me back into a mood of being able to work again when I'm slacking.
And that it captures some of the feeling of what I imagined the "romance" of campus life to be (before I learned that it's not really all sitting around in coffeehouses or beer halls talking about Deep Ideas or being surrounded by charmingly and amusingly eccentric colleagues who do things like conduct the amateur orchestra made up of professors and play with toy trains*)
(*Huge number of bonus points to anyone who gets that allusion.)
The Overture is largely composed of student drinking songs - in a way, it's a bit of a musical joke - Brahms apparently composed it as a joking response to a demand for a "thank you" in the form of a musical composition from the University of Breslau, which had granted him an honorary doctorate the year before.
Wikipedia, which I know isn't always the most reliable source, has it thus:
"Initially, Brahms had contented himself with sending a simple handwritten note of acknowledgment to the University, since he loathed the public fanfare of celebrity. However, the conductor Bernard Scholz, who had nominated him for the degree, convinced him that protocol required him to make a grander gesture of gratitude. The University expected nothing less than a musical offering from the composer. "Compose a fine symphony for us!" he wrote Brahms. "But well orchestrated, old boy, not too uniformly thick!...""
..."Brahms, who was known to be a curmudgeonly joker, filled his quota by creating a "very boisterous potpourri of student drinking songs à la Suppé""
Haha. If that's true I kind of love Brahms for it.
More Brahms:
I wonder if the "real" Brahms would have found that amusing.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Books and TV
My boxes (of stuff I mailed to myself because there wasn't room in my suitcase) came today.
One good thing - my "blankie" came, and tonight is going to be a very cold night here. One thing I had asked for for Christmas (and got) was one of those cotton flannel blankets that Vermont Country Store has - I figured it would be good extra insulation under a quilt on cold nights, and on warmer ones, it could take the place of a quilt.
It's very nice - soft and warm - after it came out of the dryer (I figured it was best to wash it first even though it came all packaged up. It felt like there was still some sizing in it).
Also, the books I got for Christmas came:
(I didn't realize there'd be a reflection on the piano bench until I looked at the photo on line. That's kind of cool).
Several craft-type books. ("First rule of Sock Club: you don't talk about Sock Club." Heh. It had to be said). Also a couple books on making "critters" out of (commercially knit) socks. Also I got the "one-skein wonders" sockyarn book.
The "Geometry of Pasta" is about the different shapes, and also has recipes for each shape that is ideally suited to it.
"Beatrix Potter's Americans" is a book of letters she wrote.
(And I'm not sure I want to read the "mice giggle..." book just yet. Yeah, giggle at my snap traps, steel wool, and peppermint oil, little boogers...)
The little blue book (you can't quite read the title) is called "The Six-Cornered Snowflake" and is by, of all people, Johannes Kepler. (It actually comes with the original Latin on the left-hand pages, and the English translation on the right-hand ones).
The spiral bound book is a series of reminiscences and stories and poems all around the topic of "threads" and how the generations are bound together by activities and by faith. It was put together by a friend of my mother's who teaches writing. My mother has a piece in there, about memories of cooking and sewing when she was growing up (and memories about her grandmother and even great-grandmother) and how those activities got passed down to my brother and me (well, the cooking. My brother knows HOW to sew but he doesn't, other than to put buttons back on things).
***
And then the television.
I guess you could still call this a "critter," even though it's not actually representative of an animal? (Maybe "softie" is a better term here). This is the "TV Guy" from the Mochimochiland book (my favorite pattern in there).
I was going to be all clever and historical and name him something like Philo, but when he was done and I saw the "rabbit ears" and their "dome," it made me think of the old Viking hats.
And so, his name had to be Sven. I think that works better for him.
Sven likes old movies, holiday specials, and shows like "How it's Made." He doesn't like power outages or infomercials.
One good thing - my "blankie" came, and tonight is going to be a very cold night here. One thing I had asked for for Christmas (and got) was one of those cotton flannel blankets that Vermont Country Store has - I figured it would be good extra insulation under a quilt on cold nights, and on warmer ones, it could take the place of a quilt.
It's very nice - soft and warm - after it came out of the dryer (I figured it was best to wash it first even though it came all packaged up. It felt like there was still some sizing in it).
Also, the books I got for Christmas came:
(I didn't realize there'd be a reflection on the piano bench until I looked at the photo on line. That's kind of cool).
Several craft-type books. ("First rule of Sock Club: you don't talk about Sock Club." Heh. It had to be said). Also a couple books on making "critters" out of (commercially knit) socks. Also I got the "one-skein wonders" sockyarn book.
The "Geometry of Pasta" is about the different shapes, and also has recipes for each shape that is ideally suited to it.
"Beatrix Potter's Americans" is a book of letters she wrote.
(And I'm not sure I want to read the "mice giggle..." book just yet. Yeah, giggle at my snap traps, steel wool, and peppermint oil, little boogers...)
The little blue book (you can't quite read the title) is called "The Six-Cornered Snowflake" and is by, of all people, Johannes Kepler. (It actually comes with the original Latin on the left-hand pages, and the English translation on the right-hand ones).
The spiral bound book is a series of reminiscences and stories and poems all around the topic of "threads" and how the generations are bound together by activities and by faith. It was put together by a friend of my mother's who teaches writing. My mother has a piece in there, about memories of cooking and sewing when she was growing up (and memories about her grandmother and even great-grandmother) and how those activities got passed down to my brother and me (well, the cooking. My brother knows HOW to sew but he doesn't, other than to put buttons back on things).
***
And then the television.
I guess you could still call this a "critter," even though it's not actually representative of an animal? (Maybe "softie" is a better term here). This is the "TV Guy" from the Mochimochiland book (my favorite pattern in there).
I was going to be all clever and historical and name him something like Philo, but when he was done and I saw the "rabbit ears" and their "dome," it made me think of the old Viking hats.
And so, his name had to be Sven. I think that works better for him.
Sven likes old movies, holiday specials, and shows like "How it's Made." He doesn't like power outages or infomercials.
The ongoing battle
I'm new to peppermint oil so I don't know how often it needs to be replenished. I suppose as the scent fades. I've been told cotton balls soaked in the stuff are a good way to go.
The good news is I'm pretty sure the mouse left my sewing room. The bad news is that I found the big hole it likely exited through in the back of my storage closet, behind one of the plastic tubs I keep fabric in. It was in a place I thought was up against the concrete foundation of that room, so I didn't think critters could get there to chew a hole. There's steel wool shoved in there right now; this summer I may have to remove everything from the room (whimper) and replace the baseboards with, I don't know, do they MAKE metal baseboards?
As soon as my new supply of peppermint oil comes, a bunch of it is going back in that closet.
I rarely curse on here but, damn. I'm getting really sick of fighting mice. It seems like when I plug one opening they come in, they find another. Or make another.
Added later: A quick check of other areas of the closet baseboard (well, the ones easily accessible without moving stacks of storage tubs) fail to turn up any other holes. I suppose it's possible the mouse found that spot (it was an open spot) and managed to MAKE a hole in the day or two it was shut up in there, and used it as an emergency exit. I hope. I had never ever seen any "mouse sign" in the closet before but I saw it this morning when I went in there - and I had been in there before I saw the mouse in the sewing room. Maybe I scared the thing enough (I did chase it when it first ran in there) that it just wanted to be OUT and GONE from this crazy woman's house. I hope. (I really don't want to resort to what someone else suggested as a repellent: bobcat urine. Which apparently you can buy at some garden centers.)
Added still later: I'm sufficiently obsessive that I decided to go and check the rest of the closet. No other holes I could find. And the one I plugged looked like it was made from INSIDE the closet going out, rather that under the house coming up (based on the direction and angle of the "chiseling.") Or at least that's what I'm telling myself. So maybe I've chased them away for now, and if I continue to be diligent, I can keep them out.
I know I obsess about this but part of it is that critters in the house (whether they're mice or ants or "waterbugs") brings out all of my anxieties about "you're a slovenly housekeeper." Even though I say I'm obsessed with cleaning, I don't always get all of it done that I could. And I do have quite a hoard of quilt fabric stored in that closet, and while the few minutes of those shows on pathological hoarding I've seen tell me that my fabric stash =/= the piles of useless stuff some people acquire, I still get twitchy about it. (One reason why I'd be uncomfortable bringing an exterminator in - the whole reaction I anticipate to my stored supplies). It's probably partly a throwback to the "Too many books" issue back when I lived in the apartment - I think I've talked about that on here - the apartments I lived in my first couple years here were HUD eligible and as part of that, they had to be inspected annually. Because my apartment was close to the management office, it always got picked to be inspected (even though I was not a candidate for assistance). I had a lot of books, but I had them on shelves. One year, the inspector (who had apparently never seen that many books in a private residence before) complained that there were "too many books" and they "posed a fire hazard."
The manager threatened to fine me, then told me that I could rent a storage unit from them for my books. (Uh-huh. I had a bunch of books ruined in a storage unit when I was in college; the place got a leak and the management didn't tell anyone.)
So I have issues with feeling "judged" by other people for stuff I own.
I have an afternoon meeting today (the pre-semester faculty meeting) and I need to go in and do a few things so I don't think I'm going to empty the closet today to check the rest of the wall. I'm just going to fervently hope that the mice have all exited and that this last hole was a desperation measure by a mouse trapped in the house after I closed up the other holes it may have entered by.
The good news is I'm pretty sure the mouse left my sewing room. The bad news is that I found the big hole it likely exited through in the back of my storage closet, behind one of the plastic tubs I keep fabric in. It was in a place I thought was up against the concrete foundation of that room, so I didn't think critters could get there to chew a hole. There's steel wool shoved in there right now; this summer I may have to remove everything from the room (whimper) and replace the baseboards with, I don't know, do they MAKE metal baseboards?
As soon as my new supply of peppermint oil comes, a bunch of it is going back in that closet.
I rarely curse on here but, damn. I'm getting really sick of fighting mice. It seems like when I plug one opening they come in, they find another. Or make another.
Added later: A quick check of other areas of the closet baseboard (well, the ones easily accessible without moving stacks of storage tubs) fail to turn up any other holes. I suppose it's possible the mouse found that spot (it was an open spot) and managed to MAKE a hole in the day or two it was shut up in there, and used it as an emergency exit. I hope. I had never ever seen any "mouse sign" in the closet before but I saw it this morning when I went in there - and I had been in there before I saw the mouse in the sewing room. Maybe I scared the thing enough (I did chase it when it first ran in there) that it just wanted to be OUT and GONE from this crazy woman's house. I hope. (I really don't want to resort to what someone else suggested as a repellent: bobcat urine. Which apparently you can buy at some garden centers.)
Added still later: I'm sufficiently obsessive that I decided to go and check the rest of the closet. No other holes I could find. And the one I plugged looked like it was made from INSIDE the closet going out, rather that under the house coming up (based on the direction and angle of the "chiseling.") Or at least that's what I'm telling myself. So maybe I've chased them away for now, and if I continue to be diligent, I can keep them out.
I know I obsess about this but part of it is that critters in the house (whether they're mice or ants or "waterbugs") brings out all of my anxieties about "you're a slovenly housekeeper." Even though I say I'm obsessed with cleaning, I don't always get all of it done that I could. And I do have quite a hoard of quilt fabric stored in that closet, and while the few minutes of those shows on pathological hoarding I've seen tell me that my fabric stash =/= the piles of useless stuff some people acquire, I still get twitchy about it. (One reason why I'd be uncomfortable bringing an exterminator in - the whole reaction I anticipate to my stored supplies). It's probably partly a throwback to the "Too many books" issue back when I lived in the apartment - I think I've talked about that on here - the apartments I lived in my first couple years here were HUD eligible and as part of that, they had to be inspected annually. Because my apartment was close to the management office, it always got picked to be inspected (even though I was not a candidate for assistance). I had a lot of books, but I had them on shelves. One year, the inspector (who had apparently never seen that many books in a private residence before) complained that there were "too many books" and they "posed a fire hazard."
The manager threatened to fine me, then told me that I could rent a storage unit from them for my books. (Uh-huh. I had a bunch of books ruined in a storage unit when I was in college; the place got a leak and the management didn't tell anyone.)
So I have issues with feeling "judged" by other people for stuff I own.
I have an afternoon meeting today (the pre-semester faculty meeting) and I need to go in and do a few things so I don't think I'm going to empty the closet today to check the rest of the wall. I'm just going to fervently hope that the mice have all exited and that this last hole was a desperation measure by a mouse trapped in the house after I closed up the other holes it may have entered by.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Please work, peppermint.
One of my ravelry friends, commiserating with me about my mouse issues, suggested peppermint oil (the strong, concentrated oil: extract apparently does not work).
I had a tiny bottle of it (long story short: for the candymaking, I had to have an entire box of LorAnn oil flavors ordered. And I carried a few of them back with me, ones that would be useful for the antiherbivore experiment I do with my ecology class). So I decided to sacrifice it (I can get more, later, for the experiment). It didn't go very far but I did wipe down the floor in front of my bedroom door, and the bedroom door posts. ("This is like a very strange re-enactment of the first Passover" was my thought). And a couple other places, like the floor in front of the sink cabinet where I think they are coming in. And the entryway to my sewing room, though I'm still not 100% convinced the mouse actually left and it may just be hiding in there.
I really, really hope this works. Because if it repels mice, that means I don't have to set traps, or look into electrocution-type traps (my mice seem good at defeating the snap traps, and the live-traps aren't really an option: where would I take them to dump them off? And I can't do glue boards. I just can't. I couldn't deal with a stuck mouse that was still alive that I either had to remove from the board or kill myself). And peppermint is not toxic to me or other creatures. And I can reapply as needed - my friend told me to wipe down the baseboards with it and I could see making that a regular Friday afternoon task.
And actually, the peppermint smell in my house is nice. Normally strong smells bother me, because they can upset my allergies or give me a headache - but the peppermint smell, if anything, seems to be keeping my sinuses and head clear. Kind of like having an entire house full of Vick's Vapo-rub, I guess. (I wonder if, in a pinch, that would work? I ordered a big (and expensive) bottle of "aromatherapy grade" peppermint oil from a seller on Amazon, but it won't be here for a little while. But I always keep Vick's on hand, since I don't tolerate decongestants)
I had a tiny bottle of it (long story short: for the candymaking, I had to have an entire box of LorAnn oil flavors ordered. And I carried a few of them back with me, ones that would be useful for the antiherbivore experiment I do with my ecology class). So I decided to sacrifice it (I can get more, later, for the experiment). It didn't go very far but I did wipe down the floor in front of my bedroom door, and the bedroom door posts. ("This is like a very strange re-enactment of the first Passover" was my thought). And a couple other places, like the floor in front of the sink cabinet where I think they are coming in. And the entryway to my sewing room, though I'm still not 100% convinced the mouse actually left and it may just be hiding in there.
I really, really hope this works. Because if it repels mice, that means I don't have to set traps, or look into electrocution-type traps (my mice seem good at defeating the snap traps, and the live-traps aren't really an option: where would I take them to dump them off? And I can't do glue boards. I just can't. I couldn't deal with a stuck mouse that was still alive that I either had to remove from the board or kill myself). And peppermint is not toxic to me or other creatures. And I can reapply as needed - my friend told me to wipe down the baseboards with it and I could see making that a regular Friday afternoon task.
And actually, the peppermint smell in my house is nice. Normally strong smells bother me, because they can upset my allergies or give me a headache - but the peppermint smell, if anything, seems to be keeping my sinuses and head clear. Kind of like having an entire house full of Vick's Vapo-rub, I guess. (I wonder if, in a pinch, that would work? I ordered a big (and expensive) bottle of "aromatherapy grade" peppermint oil from a seller on Amazon, but it won't be here for a little while. But I always keep Vick's on hand, since I don't tolerate decongestants)
Snow Day II
I really do need to gut up and go work in my sewing room. (I will admit to putting it off because I THINK that is where the mouse ran last night. I blocked off the gap beneath the door so it could not exit. I didn't see it when I checked this morning and the trap was not sprung, but it might still be hiding out in there. Or it might have found a way out (I HOPE: the room has several "outside" walls and there might be a gap big enough for a mouse to exit; it's a room that used to be a screened porch so there could be gaps)).
But one thing I did yesterday - before I discovered that I was not the only mammal in the house - was to redecorate my mantel after removing the Christmas stuff.
I do still want to get something taller - maybe a tall pillar candle, or maybe a candleholder with a taper - to go in the middle because that seems, to my eye, to be what it needs, but here it is:
Lots and lots of (unscented) tealights in the various pressed-glass pieces I have. (Thank goodness I could find unscented; the fug from scented tealights in that number would be overwhelming).
I don't know; I just like white candles in glass dishes. I like the grouping of them and all the icy light they give off. (If I had lots of money to blow on something like that, I'd probably buy enough of the LED tealights - the ones that don't actually have flames - and set them up so I could leave them on more, like when I'm not in the room. But I suspect that the LED tealights that you can buy at craft stores are pretty cheaply made and might either poop out fast or not work at all. I bought new (battery operated) window-candles at Lowe's this Christmas and was really disappointed in their performance; next year I think I am going to mail-order the solar-powered kind (which also have a light sensor to turn them on and off). I think Vermont Country Store may have had them...)
Here are all the candles lit, in a dark room.
But one thing I did yesterday - before I discovered that I was not the only mammal in the house - was to redecorate my mantel after removing the Christmas stuff.
I do still want to get something taller - maybe a tall pillar candle, or maybe a candleholder with a taper - to go in the middle because that seems, to my eye, to be what it needs, but here it is:
Lots and lots of (unscented) tealights in the various pressed-glass pieces I have. (Thank goodness I could find unscented; the fug from scented tealights in that number would be overwhelming).
I don't know; I just like white candles in glass dishes. I like the grouping of them and all the icy light they give off. (If I had lots of money to blow on something like that, I'd probably buy enough of the LED tealights - the ones that don't actually have flames - and set them up so I could leave them on more, like when I'm not in the room. But I suspect that the LED tealights that you can buy at craft stores are pretty cheaply made and might either poop out fast or not work at all. I bought new (battery operated) window-candles at Lowe's this Christmas and was really disappointed in their performance; next year I think I am going to mail-order the solar-powered kind (which also have a light sensor to turn them on and off). I think Vermont Country Store may have had them...)
Here are all the candles lit, in a dark room.
Snow Day 2011
We got a lot of snow yesterday (well, "lot" for us.)
They closed my campus for the day, which is surprising, as classes are not in session and normally when it's just an "office are open" day, they leave it to the discretion of the profs/staff whether or not to come in. I guess the roads are bad enough they don't want anyone coming in.
So the good news is I have a snow day. The bad news is that I'm still battling mice; I saw one last night when I was up later than normal hanging out on the Internet. I've set traps but I don't hold out a lot of hope of catching it. (I wish I could find where they were getting in now. I thought I had plugged the obvious openings but I must have missed at least one. I don't have the guts to crawl under my house and caulk in all the gaps in the crawl space - I am way too claustrophobic to even contemplate that; it makes me feel a little sick to my stomach to think of even crawling into the crawl space. I suppose when the weather gets better I will have to see if I can find an exterminator who will do the plug-the-gaps chore for me.) I suppose part of it is that the unusually cold weather may be driving them indoors. I just wish it wasn't into MY indoors.
I think I'm going to spend part of the day extensively cleaning my sewing room; there's enough clutter in there that a mouse could go and hide for a long time and that makes me feel creepy to think about it.
They closed my campus for the day, which is surprising, as classes are not in session and normally when it's just an "office are open" day, they leave it to the discretion of the profs/staff whether or not to come in. I guess the roads are bad enough they don't want anyone coming in.
So the good news is I have a snow day. The bad news is that I'm still battling mice; I saw one last night when I was up later than normal hanging out on the Internet. I've set traps but I don't hold out a lot of hope of catching it. (I wish I could find where they were getting in now. I thought I had plugged the obvious openings but I must have missed at least one. I don't have the guts to crawl under my house and caulk in all the gaps in the crawl space - I am way too claustrophobic to even contemplate that; it makes me feel a little sick to my stomach to think of even crawling into the crawl space. I suppose when the weather gets better I will have to see if I can find an exterminator who will do the plug-the-gaps chore for me.) I suppose part of it is that the unusually cold weather may be driving them indoors. I just wish it wasn't into MY indoors.
I think I'm going to spend part of the day extensively cleaning my sewing room; there's enough clutter in there that a mouse could go and hide for a long time and that makes me feel creepy to think about it.
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