New Year's Eve

I still can't find an online version of the Mel Torme version of this, which is probably my favorite version, but I also really like Ella Fitzgerald's voice, so here is a New Year's Eve song by the great Ella.



Happy New Year to all of you. May 2011 be a better year than all previous ones.

And I can't resist a semi-doo-wop version of the same song. This is more restrained on the vocal acrobatics than much doo-wop, but it still does have some good close harmonies:

A Merry Christmas

For all who celebrate, I hope this is a blessed and joyous day, spent with people you love, and with warmth and good food. And I hope all your gifts are appreciated, and that you received some nice gifts yourself.

It's the 24th

I hope whatever preparations you need to have done, are done. Here are a couple lovely old Victorian cards, in reprint form.

You know well, already, my love of British Christmas celebrations; here is the famous robin. (Which is completely unlike the American robin; our robin is a thrush and theirs is a type of flycatcher)

And another nice old card with a friendly scene on it:

Cookies and candy

(This is another real-time message).

I've been doing some baking and candy-making, despite the fact that my father really no longer eats sweets (meaning there are fewer people to eat them up).

However, there's one cookie I feel like I always have to make, that it wouldn't be Christmas without it. These are my grandmother's cutout cookies - a simple butter cookie but one that always reminds me of her.

She used to make these when I was a kid. She would mail them to me, packing them in a 2-pound coffee can. Even one year when she had hurt her back and found it hard to stand, she still made them. They were a big part of my early Christmases, and I've now been making them myself for some 20 years.

It's a pretty simple recipe:

1 cup butter
1 cup sugar
1 egg
1/4 t almond extract
1/2 t vanilla
3 1/2 cups flour (you can add more if you need to, but they are really better with the smaller amount - the recipe says "3 1/2 to 4")
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon baking powder
6 Tablespoons buttermilk.

You cream the butter and sugar, and then beat in the egg and flavorings. Then sift together the dry ingredients, and add them alternately with the buttermilk (as you would for a cake). The dough is soft and will need to chill for at least an hour.

Then, on a well-floured board, roll the dough out.

And here is a point of preference for me, and also the way my grandmother did it: I always roll the dough very, very thin. 1/8 inch at the thickest, 1/16 inch is better.

I don't frost these cookies. As I've said before, I'm not that big a fan of frosting.. If you want to frost them, you will need to roll them thicker.

And then you cut them out. Part of the fun for me is trying to be as sparing as possible - to fit the cutters together so there's minimal waste of dough. (I do save, and re-roll, the scraps once, but after that they begin to get tough). My mother owns dozens of cutters. Some are probably now considered "vintage," those old clear-red plastic ones, for example - I've seen them in antique shops. But I still like to use them. (I think this is the only time they get used in a year). I use all the "traditional" ones - the reindeer and Christmas tree and angel and star and bell, but I also like to use a heart cutter (which I think came from a "card suits" set - we also have a diamond and a club, and I think there's a spade somewhere). And a camel, from an animal set we had. (And the seal, too - so if people ask, I can look deadpan and them and say, "It's a Christmas Seal.") And a pig, because it fits well in those odd spaces. And a pineapple, because it's fun to decorate part of it with yellow sugar and the leaves with green sugar. And there are others. I guess we did cut-out cookies a lot when I was a kid (I certainly remember bugging to be allowed to do them a lot), so we have a lot of the cutters.

I bake them at 375. For the very thin cookies, it takes 6 to 8 minutes. You need not grease the pan, but I like to use parchment paper because they seem to come off more easily.

The way I decorate them is the way my grandmother did: with colored sugars. Or I put sprinkles on some of the cookies (chocolate ones are good for reindeer; it looks like "fur"). But some of the cookies I always do with just red and green sugars, because that's how my grandmother did it. And I can look at those cookies and remember what it was like to be a little child again. And I think that's part of what Christmas is about.

****

I also made taffy for the second time in my life. (And had it turn out, for the first time). The first time I made it, I used a recipe from the Little House Cookbook. And it was summer. And I was an impatient child. And I think I pushed my mother to take the candy off the heat too soon. And maybe we didn't pull it enough. I remember it as being inedibly sticky but she said "It still tasted good."

This time I cooked it longer, using a recipe from the Farm Journal candy book. (2 cups sugar, 1/2 cup light corn syrup, 2/3 cup of water, cook until the sugar is dissolved, and then cook over low-medium heat, without stirring, until it reaches hard ball stage - I cooked it to 265 degrees F as it was a little humid last night, you have to cook candy harder when it's humid). Then I added 1/4 t of spearmint oil. (The OIL flavoring, which is hard to find now, not extract). Then my mom and I pulled heck out of it - it was amazing to watch it going from a clear yellow color, to an opaque creamy white. When it got too stiff to pull further, we cut it in pieces.

And it set up beautifully. It's kind of hard, so you have to suck on a piece before you can chew it, but once it softens up, it's not that sticky. (If you remember the old Turkish Taffy, it's kind of like that in consistency.)

I enjoy candy-making; there's enough of chemistry and physics to it to make it really fascinating, despite the hour or two of waiting for a sugar syrup to come to temperature.

A favorite poem

This is a favorite poem of mine, Christmas or not. (And yes, I suppose you could quibble about the strict "correctness" of the images: for one, many theologians believe that Jesus was actually born in the springtime, based on the evidence of shepherds being out in the fields, and also, I doubt it would have gotten cold enough in Bethlehem - even in midwinter - for the ground to freeze hard).

But still, I love the "smallness" of some of the imagery in the poem - the "homeliness" (in the British sense of it being cozy and home-like, rather than the American sense) of the images, and yet, there' that stanza about "Heaven and Earth shall flee away, when He comes to reign..."

In the bleak mid-winter
Frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron,
Water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow,
Snow on snow,
In the bleak mid-winter
Long ago.

Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him
Nor earth sustain;
Heaven and earth shall flee away
When He comes to reign:
In the bleak mid-winter
A stable-place sufficed
The Lord God Almighty,
Jesus Christ.

Enough for Him, whom cherubim
Worship night and day,
A breastful of milk
And a mangerful of hay;
Enough for Him, whom angels
Fall down before,
The ox and ass and camel
Which adore.

Angels and archangels
May have gathered there,
Cherubim and seraphim
Thronged the air,
But only His mother
In her maiden bliss,
Worshipped the Beloved
With a kiss.

What can I give Him,
Poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd
I would bring a lamb,
If I were a wise man
I would do my part,
Yet what I can I give Him,
Give my heart.

(Christina Rosetti, 1872).

There's a lovely setting of the poem to music - and it's a thoroughly British carol, as Gustav Holst wrote the music (there are other settings, but I love the Holst setting best). It's interesting me that someone who could write the tocsin for "Mars" also wrote this.

I will admit to more than once having choked up a bit while singing this in church. It really is one of my favorites.

"Real time" post

Hey, happy December 20th.

(I'm actually posting this in real time - got access to a computer).

If you sent me an e-mail, you may need to wait a few days and re-send. I'm having e-mail issues and while I can't raise anyone at my ISP just yet, I suspect it may be a "full box" problem (darn it, I should have checked the e-mail sooner) with lots of "order from us!" spam from places that I've ordered from in the past.

Which means that if that's the problem, they'll have to "wipe" the box (or so they tell me; it's happened before) and everything will be lost from it. Ugh.

British Christmas music

I suppose it's how I grew up - reading lots of British books and listening to very traditional music - but I've always had a love of the traditional British Christmas music. (Once in a while, the PBS channel whereever I am will show the "Program of Lessons and Carols" that is often done as a Christmastide service, and I try to watch it, because I love it. One year the church I belonged to did their Christmas Eve service that way).

It seems that a number of carols are named for British cathedral towns.

There's the minor-key Coventry carol, which apparently in its original text references the Slaughter of the Innocents (when Herod went mad and feared the "New King" who had been born, and so had all children under 2 killed...)



(I've also heard other texts set to this tune; one year the choir at my church did a song called "When Will Messiah Come?" set to this tune, and it worked very well)

But there's also the much more joyful Sussex carol, also known as "On Christmas Night, all Christians Sing."



There are also a lot of other carols that seem to be used in the services there, that are less commonly used here. "Once in Royal David's City" seems to be much more common in British services, and many carols used there (like "Away in a Manger") are set to different tunes than what Americans tend to be most familiar with.

Carols in Britain(with links to other traditions).

We may forget - I know I had forgotten - that in Cromwell's time, caroling and other celebrations of Christmas were banned (just as they were in Puritan Massachusetts here). Presumably, part of the ban was because people behaved too riotously - but also, the Puritans didn't celebrate because they said nowhere in the Bible is it said we should celebrate Christmas.

(I am glad times have changed!)

I also like "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen," which I always tend to associate with A Christmas Carol, because it was so often used in movies of that story.

Here's a slightly different version of it than what you might be used to.

Reading at Christmas

There are a lot of short stories and books that are either set during Christmas, or are about Christmas.

Some, like the two Miss Read Christmas stories, I like to read every year. Both of her stories show "merry little" Christmases - neither of the families involved are wealthy, and the celebrations are small. In one, a pair of spinster ladies prepare for their quiet Christmas when the boisterous family next door needs their help (The mother is going into labor with her third child, and her husband is off helping another ill family member). In the second story, a widowed woman, her widowed daughter, and her daughter's two small children prepare for a quiet Christmas when their Christmas eve is interrupted by a mouse - and by a runaway child.

In neither case is a large production made of the holiday. Oh, there are small gifts, but they are mainly "practical" gifts (new gloves, new slippers for the children). The children do get a couple of toys - small dolls and some new games - but it's a much smaller 'haul' than what an American child of my generation would probably expect. And yet, there's no sense of "is this all there is," because that's ALWAYS "all" there is, and no one wants for any more.

I think that's the thing I like, and find so touching about those stories. And also about the Little House descriptions of Christmas: how delighted the girls were to get their own tin cups to drink of (so they no longer had to share a single one). Or how exciting a piece of fancy, store-bought candy ("Made with white sugar" as is specified in the book - that would have been a big thing in those days, when maple sugar was much more common). Or an orange in the toe of the stocking.

(It's easy to forget, I think, in these days of California and Florida orange groves, and fruit shipped on planes and in refrigerated trucks, just how precious citrus used to be. And it wasn't that long ago...my dad talks about how when he was a kid, Christmastime was pretty much the only time they had oranges.)

I love those stories because it's interesting to read how other people celebrated. And it's refreshing to think of the simplicity of the celebration, and how children could be so excited by a small Dutch doll (as in the Miss Read story) or a new pair of mittens. There's something kind of touching about it, and it makes you pause and think about how much you have.

There are also a lot of stories set at Christmas that involve crime and detection. I'm sure part of this is because during the 'Golden Era' of mysteries, most magazines ran short stories, and they probably wanted one special for their "Christmas number."

I have a big compilation volume called "Murder for Christmas" (which has some funny cartoonish illustrations by Gahan Wilson in it. It is the volume that first introduced me to Inspector Alleyn ("Death on the Air" is the first Alleyn story I read). It's an enjoyable read if you like detective fiction. (There are several other volumes out there, with Christmas-themed crime fiction in them; I have one that's a Folio Press volume). Some of the stories - the more modern ones - can be a bit depressing, but many of the stories - like "The Adventure of the Christmas Pudding" (one of the later Poirot stories) - are pretty light and funny. (This is a spoiler, but: the "murder" in that story turns out not to be so.)

There are also longer Christmas-themed mysteries. "Hercule Poirot's Christmas" is one of them (In this one, there actually IS a murder). And there's a very good Hamish MacBeth outing called "A Highland Christmas." (Some might be disappointed that this outing has no murder, but I found it charming and an entertaining read. And there's a lot of discussion of the cultural celebrations of Christmas; some Scots are of a more severe strain and did not celebrate it...) And there are Nero Wolfe Christmas stories, and a couple of full-length Alleyn mysteries set at Christmas ("Tied up in Tinsel" is one of my favorite Alleyns).

And, of course, there are more serious writings on Christmas. The granddaddy of all of these is "A Christmas Carol," and I try to read it every year if I can make the time. I think a lot of our celebration of and perception of Christmas is owed to Dickens. (And there's also the wonderful Christmas at Dingley Dell chapter in Pickwick Papers).

And this year, a new one for me: Miracle and Other Christmas Stories, by Connie Willis. It's interesting to see someone I know as a science-fiction writer writing in a different genre. And obviously Connie Willis loves Christmas. Her stories, without being overly sentimental, are still funny and wonderful and celebrate the good things of Christmas.

"Miracle" (the eponymous story) is very good; it weaves in the theme of how sometimes we get what we really wanted, but weren't even wise enough to realize that we wanted it. (How many of us, I wonder, go through life thinking we want one thing, when really there's something else we want more, that's ultimately better for us, but that we've convinced ourselves we don't want, until we actually get it?)

There's another, shorter story, where a child mishears "anonymous present" as "ominous" present, which is both funny and thought provoking.

My favorite, probably, in the whole volume, though, is "Inn." Not to give too much away (but how can you not?), it involves a couple of very important visitors showing up to a church during evening choir rehearsal - but almost everyone is so blinded by their need to "get Christmas done" or by their prejudices, that they fail to see the visitors for who they really are. Except for one woman, who helps the visitors on their way, and is ultimately blessed herself. It's a fairly simple story and you can more or less guess where it's going, but there's a loveliness to it.

I also like "Epiphany," probably the longest story in there. One of the things I like about it is that it ends ambiguously - it's not all neatly wrapped up; the characters have not yet found what they are seeking when we leave them. I tend to think that stories with ambiguous endings stick more with me - that I am left thinking about the characters, wondering how their stories worked out. (It is hard for me not to imagine the characters in books I read as existing in some sort of alternate universe where they have independent lives and independent existences, and are "real" in some way. Perhaps that's why I'm so devastated when an author kills off a sympathetic character, particularly one that's been part of a long-running series: For example, I prefer to imagine Hercule Poirot in a long, quiet retirement somewhere warm - and so I will never read "Curtain," since I know what it is about.)

I wish you good reading this Christmas season.

Holiday memories, first

I have decided that I shall write posts "for over break" again this year, and time-embargo them so they will be periodically posted throughout the break. Most of these will be holiday links or holiday memories.

Today: "A Child's Christmas in Wales."

I don't think I was very familiar with this poem before high school; one year we had the actor Hugh Dowling come as an artist-in-residence, and at the time he was part of a production of this (as a stage play) in Cleveland; we were all given tickets and taken to see it.

It's a wonderful, nostalgic piece. A version of it can be found online here

One of my favorite parts was about the Useful and the Useless Presents:

""There were the Useful Presents: engulfing mufflers of the old coach days, and mittens made for giant sloths; zebra scarfs of a substance like silky gum that could be tug-o'-warred down to the galoshes; blinding tam-o'-shanters like patchwork tea cozies and bunny-suited busbies and balaclavas for victims of head-shrinking tribes; from aunts who always wore wool next to the skin there were mustached and rasping vests that made you wonder why the aunts had any skin left at all; and once I had a little crocheted nose bag from an aunt now, alas, no longer whinnying with us. And pictureless books in which small boys, though warned with quotations not to, would skate on Farmer Giles' pond and did and drowned; and books that told me everything about the wasp, except why."

Yes, the childhood memories of getting warm clothes. It didn't happen often during my childhood - mainly being, I think, my parents had enough money to provide us with warm clothes "for ordinary," and so, they preferred to by fripperies (toys and games and candy) for Christmas presents for us. I suppose our presents were more in the class of Useless Presents:

"Bags of moist and many-colored jelly babies and a folded flag and a false nose and a tram-conductor's cap and a machine that punched tickets and rang a bell; never a catapult; once, by mistake that no one could explain, a little hatchet; and a celluloid duck that made, when you pressed it, a most unducklike sound, a mewing moo that an ambitious cat might make who wished to be a cow; and a painting book in which I could make the grass, the trees, the sea and the animals any colour I pleased, and still the dazzling sky-blue sheep are grazing in the red field under the rainbow-billed and pea-green birds. Hardboileds, toffee, fudge and allsorts, crunches, cracknels, humbugs, glaciers, marzipan, and butterwelsh for the Welsh. And troops of bright tin soldiers who, if they could not fight, could always run. And Snakes-and-Families and Happy Ladders. And Easy Hobbi-Games for Little Engineers, complete with instructions. Oh, easy for Leonardo! And a whistle to make the dogs bark to wake up the old man next door to make him beat on the wall with his stick to shake our picture off the wall. And a packet of cigarettes: you put one in your mouth and you stood at the corner of the street and you waited for hours, in vain, for an old lady to scold you for smoking a cigarette, and then with a smirk you ate it. And then it was breakfast under the balloons."

(I'm old enough to remember candy cigarettes. I highly doubt they are sold any more. I wasn't particularly taken by them, coming from an adamantly non-smoking family.)


Incidentally, if you want to make your own Useful Nosebag (which I always envisioned as being like a nosewarmer, the equine allusion notwithstanding), there is a pattern out there for one.

I suppose there are real "useful" and "useless" presents out there. (Thomas seems to imply in his poem - or at least, I infer from it - that the "useless" presents were perhaps more appreciated). I actually tend to give a lot of "useful" presents to family members; most of them are in places in life where further fripperies - figurines or fancy jewelry (which I can't afford anyway) are just another thing to dust, or to pack during a move.

I often give food as a present. That can be "useful" in the sense that it nourishes the body. But it can also be GOOD food, something special and different, and so, nourish the soul as well. (I give lots of tea to the tea-drinkers this time of year. I like getting tea as a gift, myself.)

Sometimes your presents fall short. You think something will be appreciated that is not, or you misread a person. Or sometimes someone misreads you: getting a gift you hate. (I admit openly that I agree with the "Admit it: you love getting gifts." But I heartily disagree with the idea of food being a universally bad gift. As I said: I like getting tea. I would enjoy getting fancy cookies or nice chocolate or fancy preserves or something like that. One of the nice things about a food gift is that you can enjoy it, but then you don't have to dust it or clean it for the rest of your life.)

May whatever gifts you get be "useful" gifts, or, if they are of the "useless" variety, may they be gloriously enjoyable in their uselessness.

Ready for sleeves!

Well, I made one little goal that I had before leaving for break.



I finished the fronts of Thermal and did the three-needle bindoff to close the shoulder seams. What remains now are to knit the sleeves, sew them in, and then do the placket and neck ribbing. I'm pretty happy about that. (Yes, it's coming with me; I hope to get at least one sleeve done). I think I overbought on yarn; I have five full balls and most of a sixth ball left - and just those few things to do. (Then again: having overbought is good, as this is a discontinued color). I think leftovers may become fingerless mitts. It's a nice soft yarn and can be worn against the skin. (Though given the low neckline on Thermal, I will probably at least have a t-shirt under it).

I'll be glad to get this one done. It will be a nice sweater to wear, and I will be glad to be through with knitting at 7 sts to the inch or whatever. (Worsted weight is 4 sts to the inch, so it goes a lot faster).

This is the last thing to be packed; everything else is ready to go.

***

I also finished up a book last night. This was Timothy Egan's "The Worst Hard Time," a history of the Dust Bowl era. I didn't know a whole lot about the Dust Bowl (other than that it happened, that a lot of Oklahoma/West Texas people left for California, and that it was the result of overzealous plowing coupled with the bad fortune of an extended drought).

The book is told mainly through the viewpoints of several people who survived that time - in some cases, Egan was able to speak to the people (most of them passed before the book went to press; one person, Ike Osteen, was in his 90s and still active when the book was first published). Or through their children. Or through diaries.

Egan also writes of the political and cultural events of the time - first, the roaring twenties, then the Depression. (And he points out that the only grassroots New Deal program that still exists - so, arguably, the one with the most long-term success- were the Soil Conservation Districts. I know we still have them; every time I cross the Red River Bridge I see the sign telling me I'm entering the Bryan County Soil Conservation District). In a lot of cases, early on in the Dust Bowl, it seemed that Washington wasn't really aware of what was happening, or perhaps didn't care.

The one main hero of the piece is "Big" Hugh Bennett, the first director of the Soil Conservation Service. He was a soil scientist but also apparently had the "human touch," and could talk to ranchers and farmers who might be suspicious of a "Washington type" or an "Ivory Tower" person. And he had some very practical ideas about land restoration, very similar to what people in restoration ecology do today. (It's interesting to me to think of how a lot of the "conservation ethic" he talked about was seen as so very new then, but is kind of taken as "common sense" in the conservation profession today. And how a lot of the long-time dwellers on the land - some of the cowboys, some of the people with Native heritage - had been saying similar things before the Dust Bowl.)

I had no idea, really, just how bad it was. The "dusters" were as bad as any blizzard out on the northern prairies - people had to tie clotheslines to their front doors so they could find their way back if they went out to the barn to do chores. And they had to shovel out their houses and barns - a building could get buried over time.

The worst day was "Black Sunday," April 14, 1935.

Somewhere online there's a video conversion of film of a duster - it's grainy and hard to see, but it does kind of capture a sense of what happened.

It must have been eerie. The sun was blotted out, the traveling dust generated static electricity (something I had not known). The static overwhelmed radio reception and sometimes shorted out the starters on cars, and let to people getting bad static shocks off of things.

A lot of people nearly starved. At one point, some people were boiling up Russian thistle (Salsola kali) a/k/a tumbleweeds, just to have something to eat or to feed any remaining livestock. Lots of people left the area (I have to say, I probably would have, had I anywhere to go), but lots of others remained stubbornly on their land, hoping for things to improve.

And lots of people died. Not just from getting lost out in the dust, or from starvation, but many people contracted "dust pneumonia" and wound up dying from the damage it did to their lungs. (Lots of children, in particular, died). And even people who survived it, their lungs were weak for the rest of their lives.

It did seem to come about because a lot of people plowed up the western Oklahoma/West Texas grasslands - prior to the late 1800s, this had been ranch country, where cattle were grazed. The periodic droughts mattered less because the grass roots were resilient and held the soil in place. (In fact, many of the old XIT Ranch cowboys spoke out against the plowing of the plains; they realized that breaking the sod on that land could have dire consequences).

But, as often is the case in modern society, people in pursuit of a quick buck did things that had long term detrimental consequences - there were several years of wheat boom (particularly during WWI, when parts of Europe were starving for wheat). But then the droughts came. And having replaced a sod-forming perennial with a "weak annual" (wheat), the land dried up. And then the windstorms came.

There are photographs here showing the "dusters" or "black blizzards" as they were called. I think they capture some of the horror. A lot of people living in the area thought the world was coming to an end.

The land has not fully recovered in some places. Even with Bennett's plan to re-establish sod-forming grasses (many of them native, and I admit I cringed a bit reading about how "grasses from Africa" were being brought in - today in restoration ecology we would be very cautious about introducing non-native species). Even with Roosevelt's "Shelterbelt" plan (probably less well-advised than the grass-revegetation, but "sexier" in the sense that it was a big show of planting shade trees - and it got the CCC men involved. The shelterbelts are mostly gone now; either they died out or were torn up by farmers in more prosperous times)

The author notes that while there have been periods of drought and wind erosion since (once in the 50s, and once again in 2002-2003), it's never been as bad, thanks in part to soil conservation measures. Hopefully as we learn more about how the world works, in the future such disasters can be prevented...

I found the book pretty interesting, and it reminded me again of something: pretty much EVERYTHING is complex and interesting if you spend enough time looking at it. I knew only the barest bones of information about the Dust Bowl; now I know a lot more. That's why I like books like this - or like Simon Winchester's "Krakatoa" (another book I recommend to students; we briefly mention the Krakatau eruption in the context of ecological succession, but the book gives the whole historical setting and also discusses the human side). Or like Eric Lax's "The Mold in Dr. Florey's Coat" (another HIGHLY RECOMMENDED book about the development of penicillin as a viable medication to be produced in large quantities) Or like "The Victorian Internet" (about the telegraph) - there are all these things out there that I've learned little glancing bits of information about, but there's so much more about them to know, and so much about them that is interesting.

That's why I'm never bored! There's so much to learn about so many things.

"Anything to declare?"

Heh.



This is the 2010 suitcase-layer-of-yarn: yarn for several toys (Loopers, the sockyarn Dangercrafts monster, a crocheted pony, crocheted mice, the "TV guy" from the Mochimochi book, the pencil from the Mochimochi book (to be made in worsted, rather than in fingering, yarn), a couple pairs of socks, a pair of fingerless mitts. And my Bag of Eyes, and the books with the patterns underneath it.

Yes, I can still zip the suitcase, and yes, it does not exceed the weight limit. (I THINK. At least, I can still lift it easily, which I could not if it did).

I have the yarn for the Miss Marple shawl in my carry-on, and I'm going to gather up the oddments for Thermal (which includes winding off the last couple hanks) and carry them in there, too. If there seems to be extra room I may move a ball or two of sockyarn into the bag where I put the stuff for Thermal, just to give a bit more room.

Oh, I know - this is probably excessive, even for a break of three weeks, and there is both a yarn shop and a hobby store in the town where my parents live. But still, I like lining up the projects and knowing I have pretty much everything I need for them.

I didn't pack as lightly as originally intended on the clothes-front; my mom called me to warn me that it was going to be below freezing for at least the first five days or so that I was going to be up there, so I added in an extra sweater and a pair of dressy slacks (in case it's just too cold to wear a dress to church). And I put in a longer, heavier-weight dress than I originally planned, so it's a pretty full suitcase, but if worse comes to worse in January, I can send some of the turtlenecks and stuff back to myself UPS or something.

It occurs to me that in many respects, I still have the "child's" view of the Christmas holidays. I get a long break, time to play. The last couple weeks of the semester are a gradual shedding of responsibilities, culminating with my hanging my academic robe and hood back up in the closet after graduation - another semester over. And now I can relax. I won't even have to cook, other than if I want to, for the coming weeks. Or do grocery shopping or the agonizing planning-ahead of menus and making sure I have all the components for what I want to eat so I don't wind up running out in a panic to the Green Spray at 6:30 some evening. I don't even really have to drive anywhere, unless I particularly want to go some place. I can really, in some ways, revert to being a Kid on Break - watch cartoons, do crafts, bake cookies.

It's a very welcome thing. I think it would get tiring after a while never to have responsibilities, but it's nice to be able to set them aside for a while and relax.

Feels like Friday

Today feels like a Friday to me. I think that's because I know I'm leaving tomorrow.

It's weird, not having anything I have to do. My plans for today include doing the workout I didn't have to get up early to do, doing the rest of my laundry, packing, and working on the couple of in-progress projects.

This is the first of the Ty-Dy socks. I just started the second one (the little pile of "sticks" and yarn next to the finished sock).



I think I'm going to dig out one of my plastic pencil cases and put the sock in there, and carry it in my purse to work on on the train (and perhaps, work on on the bus). I always worry about carrying the socks that I'm doing on bamboo needles, because it's possible for a needle to snap at an inopportune time in your bag, and you don't know it until much later.

I also think I'm going to work some on Thermal today; it would be really nice if I could finish at least the first front-half, and do the join at the shoulders, so there's less bits flopping around when I get back to knitting on it.

I also have a third project going. I don't know that I will finish it, and I'm not sure I'll take it with me, as I'm getting a little burned out on it.

It's a Cheese-kun (N.B., .pdf file). This is apparently the mascot of Pizza Hut in Japan - a blob of cheese wearing a hat. I decided to make it because I just think softies made in the form of animate food are funny (I already have an onigiri and a chestnut (The chestnut being my own tweaking of the onigiri pattern). And I have a little beanbag mascot of Kogepan, the burnt bread bun.

But man, this is one giant amigurumi - it's probably going to be a foot tall when it's done - and crocheting it of the hard 100% acrylic yarn takes a bit of a toll on my hands. So I may set it aside and leave it until after I return. (I have plenty other projects to take with me).

Cartoon holiday specials

I mostly love them.

But I am also mostly suspicious of any new special that claims "destined to be a classic" or somesuch. Things become "classics" because they are well-made and/or touch something in people that people respond to. "A Charlie Brown Christmas" is a classic, I think because people respond to a lot of themes in that. (And it's probably the only "mainline" Christmas special to actually quote one of the Gospels extensively).

Well, last night was two Nickelodeon Christmas specials. The SpongeBob one is several years old, and while it's entertaining and all, it's kind of silly and not very meaningful.

The Penguins of Madagascar one - I was a little surprised by the final conclusion, I thought it was actually a surprisingly "grown-up" sentiment and I kind of liked it:

"It's not perfect, but it's Christmas!"

Meaning: things rarely live up to our expectations but we should relax and enjoy anyway. And that maybe, just maybe, pushing to be "too" perfect can lead to things getting ruined. (Or, perhaps more likely: changing up the "jobs" people do because one spoiled person decides they want a "more important" job than they had in the past leads to inefficiency and problems. Heh.)

But there was one line in the special that made me laugh for - I'm serious - three solid minutes.

The lead penguin (Skipper) got the job of playing Santa. ("Private" was his elf). Skipper decided to look up pointers on how to be Santa, using the Internet*

But he winds up having the experience that I think just about everyone looking for serious information on short notice using a search engine did.

And he exclaims: "Curse you, Internet! Twenty-eight thousand cat videos and zero useful information!"

(it's probably funnier "hearing" it in Skipper's voice. I'm not quite sure who he's supposed to sound like - it's a bit like Captain Kirk, but also at times a bit like a more-restrained Kirk Douglas.)

I can foresee using that line myself someday.


(*Again, like a lot of cartoons, there are some holes here. Several times the comment is made that the penguins cannot read, yet they use the Internet to research things. And they also use a Speak-and-Spell like device as a translator on the rare cases where they actually have to communicate with humans in English - and that would presuppose knowledge of spelling and words....)

Yes, I'm done

I still can't quite believe it. All the grades have been handed in, the research tasks have been done, the manuscript review is done and in the mail. I even got all the leaves raked up out of my yard.

And this afternoon, I cleaned house. (I can't say I CLEANED ALL THE THINGS because I didn't; my room is still kind of a mess but that's ok; some of the mess is piled up folded laundry that awaits my decision in a day or two of what I want to pack. I'm trying to pack light (hah, we'll see if that works) so I might have more time for bringing back presents in my suitcase.)

But the house is MOSTLY clean, including the kitchen floor, which ALWAYS bugs me, because it's a white tiled floor, and honestly, I think I could scrub it every day and it would never look "clean enough" to me.

And I finished the first of the Ty-Dy socks, and started another silly Japanese-style amigurumi. I may take pictures, at least of the sock, tomorrow and post them.

And I found all the patterns I want to take up with me to work on, including the one for the Miss Marple shawl, and I located the four skeins of Silk Garden Sockyarn for the shawl. And picked out a bunch of critter patterns (and not-critters that are like critters: the Mochimochi book has a pattern for a softie television, and I'm taking that pattern with me).

I'm really ready for this break.

And now, I'm grateful I didn't plan my travel to be running out tonight - which would be my usual MO. Because I might wind up stuck in St. Louis; I have no idea how bad it is in Illinois but a friend who has a daughter living near Milwaukee said she called and said everyone was snowed in and they were telling people not to go out on the roads, and the minister of the church I belong to is stuck in Minneapolis - he had flown to Alaska to attend a funeral, and he got caught in the storm coming back. (Fortunately, his wife is also an ordained minister, and she was able to put together a sermon for today on <24 hours notice).

But it looks like by the day I travel, it should have moved out, and even be safe for (sigh) buses. (Yeah, I'm not terribly happy about being bused from St. Louis to Bloomington, but at least it's (a) during the day (I still remember the agony of that overnight bus trip where I didn't really sleep at all because (a) it was loud and (b) there was no way to sit comfortably, as they were more like city buses than long-distance buses) and (b) the buses they are using are apparently the more-plush tour-bus type buses (at least, that's what my mother says she has seen arriving at the train station near them. And also, by the time I come back, the track work will be done, so I won't have to mess with it on the return trip).

Giggling at Graduation

You know how they talk about "church giggles," where something strikes you funny but you can't laugh because of the situation, and whatever it is seems funnier in part because you know you should not laugh?

Today at graduation I was looking at the prop diplomas they hand out. They use props for two reasons: for one, it's logistically far too much of a challenge to match names with people in any kind of efficient fashion, but also, grades aren't officially due until Monday, so it's possible someone who was teetering on the borderline could "walk" at graduation but not technically graduate.

I was wondering about the prop diplomas; my undergraduate school didn't use them (something like 1000 people graduated all at the same time as I did; essentially they told us to "stand up, now you have whatever degree it was that you earned." For both my graduate degrees, they gave empty diploma covers (like a fake-leather folder) that you could put the diploma in when it came in the mail). So I didn't know what might be inside the rolled-up paper.

And this is how the Internet has affected my brain: my next thought was "It would be really funny if there were a picture of Rick Astley singing "Never Gonna Give You Up*" in there."

And of course, that made me want to giggle.

(*That is NOT a Youtube link. It's a drawing, something I'd actually rather want as a poster. And perhaps would have wanted more circa 1986 (I might have had a small "thing" for Rick Astley back then...) but I still think it's clever)

Then, when they started up the recessional ("The Thunderer March," by Sousa. Perhaps an allusion to our team name?) I thought, "That's a lot better than 'Play them off, Piano Cat.'"

Yeah, I think my brain is slowly rebounding from the semester. I always picture it as being like the process of isostatic rebound, where land slowly rises back up after having been crushed under the weight of a glacier - so, for example, the area where Chicago is is rising a few fractions of a centimeter every year, and has since about 10,000 or so years ago when the Wisconsinan lobe left them.

The little things

I sent my cards off today. This is one of those little things (and perhaps a tradition that is dying out in some quarters*). It's one of the little things about Christmas that I like.

It's probably a throwback to my childhood. My parents sent out an enormous number of cards - probably over 100 - and in those days, my mom wrote personal letters in almost every one of them. (She started shortly after Thanksgiving). They got a lot of cards, too - my mom had a lot of cousins, and they still corresponded with people they'd known in grad school, and my dad had some former colleagues from his first job he was still in contact with. The cards would come, several every day, and my parents would open them and read the messages and then put them in a big basket in the living room. (And the following Christmas, my mom would dig out the cards and either give them to my Brownie troop for crafts, or to one of the church day cares for crafts...so the cards didn't totally go to waste. And some years we would cut the pretty scenes out of the fronts of the cards (if there was nothing written on the inside cover) and turned them into gift tags).

So, Christmas cards loomed large in my childhood, and I think it's that ghost of "Sending Christmas cards is something that grown-ups just DO" is part of the reason I still send them.

I don't write long personal notes in most of them, though. (And this year, my cards were too small to write very much). Many of the cards go to people I see or talk to on a regular basis, so I don't really feel I need to write a lot in them. The few cards that go to more-distant relatives or a couple far away friends I do write a short letter in, if I've not been much in contact with the person over the past few months.

Also, this year, one of the groups I'm in on Ravelry is doing a card exchange - where people who sign up get five names to send to, and in return, they get five cards (not necessarily from the same people, but one of my five was one of the people I got a card from). It was a lot of fun because you didn't know from whom you were getting cards, or where they were coming from. (One of my cards came from Australia - and a very nice card it was, too, the cover was a painting of a wreath that incorporated native flowers and birds of Australia.)

People I send cards to don't always send cards back but that's fine. I don't care if people don't send out cards, and I don't want anyone to feel obligated to send me one just because I sent one.

I also send a few cards out to people (people I know through church and stuff) who are partially or totally shut-in. My feeling is, even with me being able to get out and get around and do stuff, I know it's a very welcome thing to come home and find something in my mail box that is not a bill or junk mail, so it must be extra nice for someone who's stuck at home a lot of the time to get "real" mail.

My list has changed in size over the years...I think this year I sent out about 40 cards, but most of them were to people I know from church (members of my Sunday school class and such). I've lost a few people over the years (a few relatives have died, a few older friends moved and we lost track of each others' addresses) and added some over the years (new friends, cousins who moved out on their own).

It just feels like a Christmas thing to me, to send out cards. So I will continue to do it as long as I can afford to every semester, and as long as no one explicitly tells me NOT to send them a card.

(*I know all the arguments against it: "It takes a lot of time." "It's expensive to mail stuff any more." "It's wasteful - all those trees for something people will look at and then throw away." I kind of say "bah" to most of those arguments (and buy recycled-paper cards when I can find good ones)

cake and punch

Our secretary is retiring.

While I am very happy for her, getting to have time to enjoy her new grandson and pursue her various hobbies, she's going to leave a giant hole in the department, because she had been here longer than nearly all of us, and she knew everything, and she also knows all the ins and outs of how to get things done efficiently in the university bureaucracy.

We had a small reception for her today (Last night, we took her and her family out to dinner at the local good Italian place). There was cake and punch.

I provided the punchbowl. It amuses me that I, one of the younger members of the faculty and one of only two never-marrieds, am apparently the only person who owns a punchbowl (well, it's not like I'd expect the departmental bachelor to own one, but still). It's an older version, probably early 60s. I got it at one of the antique shops in this area. And no, I almost never use it.

Anyway, whenever there's cake, I always think of that scene from Office Space where Milton Waddams is so concerned (SO CONCERNED) he's not going to get his cake. (And if there had been a lot of people there? I would have hung back and not taken cake. Because I don't really need it, and if there were people who walked over from other departments...)

Anyway, I just walked down there (it ended at 3) to retrieve my punchbowl. There was still cake. So I stopped off in the office of one of my colleagues and commented, "Apparently the ratio of people to cake was not too high." And she got it, and she laughed. Which is one of the reasons why I like working here.

"Holiday Brain" time

I give my last exam today. Once that's graded, all that remains are two soil samples and submitting my grades. (And as I don't have to go to Ardmore tomorrow for ticket-fu, I can do that tomorrow morning).

So, it's time for Holiday Brain. This is the lovely state when you don't have to worry about work, when you can push that to one side and concentrate on enjoying the good things about this time of year.

(And this time next week - well, I'll be on a bus or getting on a bus, which is not ideal, but still, I will be on my way to my parents')

So now I can really pull out my Christmas music and listen to it, and dial around on the television (except I guess no one "dials" around any more, they flip channels) and look for the Christmas specials I love and watch them, and spend some time knitting and generally relax.

Step one, this afternoon and evening, I think, will be planning out what projects to take on break with me. Thermal is coming, and the couple of socks-in-progress, and I'm going to take the pattern for what I have now dubbed the "Miss Marple Shawl" and the Silk Garden sockweight for that. But I also want to bring some toy patterns - for me, it is not Christmas break without toy-making. Perhaps the yarn I bought in October for the Loopers, and their pattern. And I bought some other Dangercrafts patterns - she has one for one of her trademark monsters knit from a self-patterning sock yarn, and I have a ball of pink Meilenweit "Magico" that is a little too pink for me to make socks out of - but it would make a good monster.

And I may take some other patterns and just plan on getting yarn up there. I don't know. I will have to find my bag of eyes (hee) to take with me - lock-washer eyes, which I like to use on a lot of the toys I knit, are hard to find in your typical craft shop these days.

I might also consider taking one of the sets of pillowcase "blanks" and the floss to embroider them; I have some with snowflakes on them that I've been wanting to start.

(I have three weeks off, just about. Three weeks. That's huge for me.)

Made of awesome

There's a new type of "Crazy Christmas Lights" house out there. This amuses me no end - the kid and his family apparently synchronized the lights to his Guitar Hero game, so playing the game controlled the lights. I love it when people do stuff like this.



(Don't read the comments, though. Typical anonymous idiot YouTube comments, people snarking on "But this is just a song from the simplest level of the game" Yeah? That's so not the point here.)

Magical thinking, perhaps

So, after I realized that Ardmore would be another place I could go to pick up tickets, and that it would actually be kind of-sort of doable on Friday (I have only 2 soil samples left to go through and can do that tomorrow after giving my exam), I thought, "Yeah, now after I plan out how to fix it, watch the tickets come today."

I know as a scientist I'm not supposed to be superstitious or give in to "magical thinking" (as in: "I brought my umbrella so it won't rain now") but sometimes stuff just happens, you know?

Guess what was in my mailbox when I got home this afternoon? The tickets. Including (sigh) the "continuation" ticket for when I have to get on the bus in St. Louis (because of trackwork, we are being bused from St. Louis to our destinations in Illinois).

On one of the ravelry boards I frequent, people ask for (and offer) "mojo" (as a nondenominational version of prayers/good thoughts) for situations. I could use some mojo that the roads in Illinois will not be icy, and there will not be blizzard conditions next week. I suppose if it's really bad Amtrak would have to put me up in St. Louis until I COULD get home, but I'd rather it just happened as fast and easily as possible...

Back to Thermal

One of the things I really like about knitting is that you can put down a project when you get bored with it, or you get too busy to work on it, and as long as you keep good notes as to where you were in the pattern, you can come back to it and pick it back up.

I give an exam today and it's a small class (lots of attrition in this one), so I don't need to be QUITE so observant to stop cheating (also, I have Form A and Form B with scrambled questions). So I decided to re-start Thermal. I had stopped just short of doing the back neck/shoulders - so now I have bound off for the neck at the back, and am getting ready to do the wraps-and-turns for the shoulder shaping. And then I do the fronts. And then the sleeves. (I MIGHT get the back done and part of one front today).

I'm going to take this one with me over break and try to finish it. It's a lovely sweater but I think it's going to be a while before I consider doing a sport/fingering weight sweater again. (While I'm not an enormously large person, I'm not extremely small, either, and it takes a LOT of stitches of fingering-weight to make a sweater to fit me).

One more week and I'm on my way. (Perhaps earlier than I intended, if my TICKETS STILL DO NOT COME. I've decided if they don't arrive, I'm going to drive down really early - like, a 1 pm arrival time in Mineola - so I can see if the Quick-Trak machine is working (I printed the e-mail with its barcode). If that doesn't work, I'd still have time to drive over to Longview - which IS a "manned" station - and get my tickets there. But oy, what a mess. I really hope the tickets come today, if they don't, I'm going to call Amtrak and ask exactly WHEN they were mailed.

I'm wondering if I just am destined to have problems every few trips these days. And I'm thinking of the traveling I did at Christmas 2000, when my tickets were apparently stolen out of the mail, it was very hard to talk to anyone to get help, and I literally drove to Longview not knowing if I'd have tickets to get home for the break or not...even though I had my reservation number and everything. And then there was an ice storm and I was 12 hours late getting home.

I really, really hope those tickets come today.)


ETA: I just realized: the station in Ardmore (an hour from me) might have a Quick-Trak machine, and they're only an hour away. If my tickets don't come today I'm going to call and ask if I can still get tickets from a Quick-Trak even if they mailed them, and then I could drive over to Ardmore on Friday, get my tickets, go out to lunch, go to the bookstore there. It's not ideal but it's a darn sight better than not having tickets in hand when I head down to Mineola.

(Yup, it says the Ardmore station has a Quick-Trak, though its hours are a little odd.)

Literal teal deer

I mentioned a few days ago that I was working on a crochet project that amused me. I finally finished it.

It's.....Teal Deer!



Yes, a literal teal deer. Or rather, Teal Deer, as she insists on being called.

Teal Deer disapproves of people who talk too much. Of people who give long, sad stories about stuff when they could probably recount their woe in a few sentences.



Teal Deer is good at being disapproving.

Teal Deer especially dislikes it when people make long-winded, bizarre excuses for why they "couldn't" do what they were supposed to do. (Thus, she and I have something in common.)

Teal Deer is made using the "Fawn" pattern from Elisabeth Doherty's Amigurumi book. (It is the same pattern I used for Rupert, a couple years back).

I had been thinking about this for a while - how it would be funny to encarnate (en-yarn-ate?) the Internet slang "teal deer" (an expansion of tl; dr, which stands for "too long, didn't read" - sometimes used dismissively to refer to someone's post of something, but more commonly now, I see it as someone imposing the "teal deer" on themselves and then giving a short summary for those who don't have the time to read a long, drawn-out story.)

And of course, I had a deer pattern, and some teal-ish yarn...so all it took was some time. I actually started Teal Deer this summer but then got busy and distracted with other things and only got the barest tip of the nose done...so I finally finished her just now.

This is the kind of thing that I find very funny for some reason. I suppose it's related to my love of puns.

The yarn I used was one of Debbie Stoller's new yarns, I think it's Bamboo Ewe (a bamboo/wool blend). The eyes are done a bit differently than on the original pattern - just the lock-washer eyes without the fancy "shadows" on them. (And I found it hard to get a truly "disapproving" expression on her. I probably should have drawn it out on paper first, but it was getting late and I wanted to be finished and so I just kind of winged it. So I guess Teal Deer is more benign looking than I originally intended; there's almost a tiny smile there playing around her mouth. Or maybe it's just hard for someone with my personality to make a truly grumpy-looking amigurumi).

Also, Teal Deer has spots. They are made from some vintage mother of pearl buttons I got inexpensively in an antique shop. Most of them are odd buttons (not with a match) and I guess they are off of either infant's clothing (back when no one worried about buttons being a choking hazard) or undergarments; the buttons are all the "shank" type, but on these the shank is carved integral to the button, and they are kind of a pain to sew on. But I used them here because I wanted to use some, and this seemed as good a use as any:



So: Teal Deer. Teal Deer says "People talk too much." I suspect she's not a fan of political talk shows.

Cookie baking time!

But first, one of those things that makes you go **facepalm**

I had a student plagiarize a paper in one of my classes, right? And great consternation was heard throughout the land, because OH NOES they didn't realize they couldn't do that and OH NOES they really need to pass the class (and it's their second go-round at taking it) and OH NOES can't I see my way clear to letting them redo the assignment, even for partial credit. (Um, no, on three fronts: 1. You cheated. Cheaters may get do-overs in the "real" world, but not in my classroom. 2. It violates the stated class policy and 3. Even if you earned FULL CREDIT on the assignment, it would not bump your grade sufficiently much for it to help).

Well, the person wanted to meet with me. I sent a reminder of my office hours, suggesting a particular time. Person never showed.

Then, I come in this morning to six - SIX - e-mails from this person.

"merciful Heavens," I moaned, "Is it never going to STOP?!?!"

Then I opened the first e-mail.

It was one of those things where a person's computer gets taken over by a virus, right, and sends out a spam message directing the reader to a website.

Second e-mail was the same. As was the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth.

(No, I did not click on the links, and I certainly hope my computer didn't get infected by merely opening the e-mails. I'm running a scan right now)

But, I think I'm justified in NEVER OPENING ANOTHER E-MAIL FROM THIS PERSON and telling them, if they ask me, "You spammed me. I don't open mail from spammers." and explaining what happened.

****

On to happier things. I did some baking this weekend. Because this week is our Five Days of Fabulous Finger Food Feasting for Finals, we all make stuff and bring it in. I usually front-load the stuff to the beginning of the week - more people are around, and besides, it's more fun to spend a Sunday afternoon rather than a time-after-a-final when I'm tired cooking.

I made those peanut blossom cookies (take a recipe of peanut butter cookie dough - there are different ones out there but I used a more complex one. I've even seen some "flourless" ones out there - and bake it as balls, and then when the cookies are done, mash an unwrapped chocolate kiss on the top. Simple, and most people like them.) I also did those goofy "wreath" cookies that are made like Rice Krispie treats, only you use cornflakes. And put green food coloring in. And shape them like wreaths. And stick red-hot candies on them for the "berries."

I spent some time looking through my cookbooks, too. There are so many interesting old recipes I'd like to try. One church cookbook I have has something called "cry baby cookies" (I don't know why they're called that). They have buttermilk and raisins in them and sound kind of good. And there are a number of old, old recipes I've seen - for things like hermits or date cookies where you have to cook the dates up first.

I like the idea of making old recipes. I think I realized why this weekend - it's kind of similar to how I like working up old patterns to see how they will look when finished. Part of it is the idea of, as I've said before, "shaking hands with the past" and maybe honoring those past people a bit with using their contributions.

But part of it, also is the "Come, tell me how you lived" aspect of it: it's interesting to taste the foods that people in the past ate, to think about the flavors that they used. That may be why the Little House on the Prairie cookbook, and Jane and Michael Stern's "Square Meals," and some of the older cookbooks (like the Settlement House Cookbook - the edition I have is from the 1950s, but it still has some of the older recipes in it) are such favorites of mine. For example, in the Little House cookbook, the author talks about how rosewater was widely used in the years before vanilla extract became common - anyone with a rosebush (and some clear, taste-free alcohol) could make it, whereas vanilla only became common with the spread of places like the A and P.

(Are there still A and P stores? I haven't seen one in years. Same thing with IGAs - they used to be everywhere, now I never see one. Or are they exclusively an upper Midwest thing, and I just don't see them where I live now. I know that Red Owl - if they still exist - are pretty restricted in their extent, and places like the Acme chain, and Fazio's - which I think is long gone anyway - were exclusive to Ohio/Pennsylvania).

I think in some ways my interest in the recent past - and my love of movies like "A Christmas Story" - is that in some respects, my life and memories overlap the time before computers, before some of the enormous changes in how marketing and stuff was done. Where things were more like they were in the 1940s and 50s, in some ways, than they are now. I remember as a child shopping with my mom at the tiny Red Owl store in downtown Rapid River (when we were up visiting my grandmother). Some of the things were still behind the counter and you had to ask for them.

I also remember shopping at an A. and P. store somewhere - probably near the town where I grew up - because I remember my dad telling me a little bit of the history of how the stores got started, and what A and P stood for.

I remember being able to buy penny candy. (Well, mostly nickel and dime candy, in those days. The inflation in the price of sugar had already started). But the fact that stores still sold penny candy, still had jars of it behind a glass counter, where you could ask for what you wanted...that's a lot less common now, unless you go to an "olde-timey" confectioner's shop, and even then, the stuff is more likely to be sold from bulk bins.

So I remember the smaller, older type of grocery, before hypermarkets made the scene.

And while there are a lot of things to recommend the hypermarkets - the enormous choices, the large stock, the tendency for cheaper prices because they can buy in bulk - there's also an anonymity about them that I think does affect a lot of modern life, and can negatively affect the experience you have there.

Some of the worst shopper behavior I've seen has been at the local wal-mart. I've just learned not to go there over the noon hour, or between three and five p.m., or in the afternoons on a Friday or Saturday, or on the day people get paid, or really, pretty much any time other than very early on a weekend morning. Because people push and shove. Or they walk up the aisles lost in their cell phones and run into people. Or they park their carts diagonally in an aisle, blocking all other traffic. Or they bring all their children (I realize for some people leaving them home is not an option) but then allow those children to run amok in the store. Or whatever. And it just makes me sad and kind of despair for other people.

It's funny, though - I've mentioned the Green Spray before. It's a small, locally-run grocery. The choices they have is nowhere like wal-mart's, they're a lot smaller, there are some things they don't carry at all. But. I've been in there the afternoon of the first of the month sometimes, and never felt uncomfortable or frustrated by my fellow shoppers - the place was busy, but it wasn't frantic.

I guess it's that it was more like the way I remember grocery shopping, back in the days when you didn't feel like you needed roller skates to get from one end of the store to the next.

Most of the clientele at the Green Spray seems to be older, from what I've seen. I don't know if it's where they are, or that they have fewer varieties, or if things are a few pennies more (at times) than the wal-mart, and the younger shoppers don't mind traversing the jungle that wal-mart can be at a busy time. I do hope the Green Spray is able to keep going, at least for a few more years, because it's certainly nice to realize, for example, that you need another onion for the soup you're making and have that onion in less than 10 minutes, instead of having to make the trek out to the wal-mart and do battle with the crowds, and the "I can count, honey, I'm just really in a hurry" people with 45 items in the 20-items-or-fewer line.

I wonder what memories of grocery shopping people a bit younger than I am have. Is all they know the hypermarkets? (I also remember shopping at a food co-op; my parents belonged to one for a few years when I was a kid. That was interesting because you learned more about where the food came from.)


ETA: here's the old Red Owl Foods logo that I remember from Northern Michigan. I guess two Red Owls still exist in Wisconsin, according to an online source. (Funny how nostalgia is. I'd actually kind of like a t-shirt with that Red Owl logo on it.)

These soil samples

...remind me of the Pink Panther theme song:

"dead ant, dead ant, dead ant dead ant dead ant."

Heh.

(Two jokes remembered from childhood:

1. What did the Pink Panther say when he stepped on an ant?
"Dead ant, dead ant, dead ant dead ant dead ant"

2. Where does the Lone Ranger take his trash?
"To the dump, to the dump, to the dump dump dump"

I wonder if there are others of that same format - those are the only two I know).

Well, back to it. One more sample completed and I will have done the quota I set for myself for today.

Little teddy bear

One other thing I finished over break. This is a teddy bear knit of sockyarn, using a pattern from Susan Anderson's "Itty Bitty Knitted Toys."

She has several sock-yarn toy patterns in there - a bear, a "sock" monkey, some fruit finger puppets, and a hippopotamus (in case anyone you know wants a hippopotamus for Christmas. And yes, there's probably still time to make one.)

I really like the idea of using sock yarn to make toys. For one thing, it's generally readily available and most knitters (at least, most knitters who knit socks) have a bunch of it already in their stashes. They knit up fairly quickly and are nice and soft and "squishy." And sock yarn comes in a wide range of colors, and a wide range of fiber combinations. I could see using a yarn that you feared was too quick-to-wear-out-for-socks for some kind of a small toy, especially one that might be a shelf-sitter or a mascot for an adult, instead.

Actually, I suspect most toy patterns would work adapted to sockyarn - just using a smaller set of needles (I used US size 2 for the bear; I've also seen some patterns suggesting a US size 3 - though you really do want to use a small enough needle that the fabric is tight, so stuffing won't show through). It would scale whatever it was down to a smaller size. And there's something appealing about small toys (another reason I like the idea of sock yarn toys: they tend to be small).



I was originally going to name the bear Clarence (and have him be male) but when the bear got done, I decided it had to be a "she," and her name is Latte.

The yarn is Fannie's Farmhouse in a color called "Pecan Pie." I had bought it for socks, decided at some point I didn't want to use it for socks, and then found it again when I was thinking about this bear pattern. I think it worked nicely for the bear - I wasn't expecting the striping but I like how it came out.

This is a very cute bear pattern, and it is not that complicated to do, especially if you have experience knitting small-diameter items in the round (like socks). I used double pointed needles, which are my favorite way to knit a small tube (and really, the only way I do small tubes) but you could just as easily use Magic Loop or the two-circulars method.

Another cute thing, that many bear patterns lack? There is a wee tiny tail for the bear:



I really like making toys and kind of miss it when I'm not working on one.

I have a crocheted item I'm working on right now that amuses me immensely and I am hoping to get it done during the bits and pieces of free time I will have this weekend. I hope I do get it done, at least before Christmas, so I can share a picture of it here.


(I finished the manuscript-read-through and am writing my review of it this morning. Sadly, I had to vote to reject. I also got my finals all written. So my main big push - aside from grading - is now to sort the soil-critter samples, and as I have two entirely-free (i.e.: no exams) days next week, I hope to get a lot done on them then. And I'm going to start this afternoon; my plan is to start right after lunch and do as much as I can until 3 pm or so, then come in for a couple hours tomorrow. I'm actually looking forward to working on it; there's something kind of peaceful about that kind of research; it's just you and the microscope and the identification key, and it takes a real emergency to pull me away from the work; most petty stuff I can wave my hand at the microscope and say "I really need to finish this sample up" and not be bothered by people because of that)

One thing worked

Well, at least one thing worked out OK. I had bought two jars of raspberry jam for the turkey meatballs, misremembering how much the recipe required. So I had an unopened jar at the end of the night last night. (I made the meatballs, browned them a bit in the oven - the recipe didn't say to as it's a slow-cooker recipe, but as (a) I wouldn't have quite a full 6 hours for them to cook on low today (not without getting up EXTRA early and putting the balls and sauce in the slow cooker and (b) often times unbrowned slow cooker meatballs fall apart - I did them for 10 minutes at 400 degrees. That was probably actually enough to cook them through, as I made them about an inch in diameter.)

I made a double batch, half for a luncheon today, half for AAUW tonight. I decided to make the meatballs and sauce separately, and then combine them in the slow cooker right before turning it on.

So this morning, putting the first batch of meatballs in, I realized, hey, there's not a lot of sauce here. And I wound up having to use most of it to cover the meatballs.

Which meant I had to make a second batch of the sauce for the second set of meatballs. I didn't have enough jam left in the first jar, so I wound up using part of the second one. (Raspberry jam is not something I keep on hand, so it would have necessitated a trip out to the store for more, which would have raised a real "Wharrrrgarblllll" on my account). Everything else I needed (vinegar, cardamom, chili sauce), I would have had plenty of anyway.

So this morning I mixed up enough extra of the sauce for the second set, which, if things go not-unexpectedly, will be put in the slow cooker and start heating around 3 this afternoon.

Another thing hit me as I was working on the meatballs last night - it took longer than I planned (and I was over at school longer than planned, grading). I had been planning on also making tortillas and beans for myself for dinner. But as I closed in on cooking the last pan of meatballs, I thought, "Meh. I still need to wash my hair and do the laundry and practice some piano. Maybe I'll just fix a bowl of cereal like I did last night" (Last night being my "late" night, when my last class lets out at 7 pm).

And then I realized there was something so symbolic of what I let happen in my life to that. Here I was, making moderately "fancy" food (well, as "fancy" as I ever cook these days) for other people, and planning on feeding myself cold cereal.

I need to work better on making myself a priority. Because if I don't make myself a priority, sure as heck no one else is going to.

So I made the tortillas. (The beans were already ready).

Proof of knitting

I do still knit. I did a fair amount over break (finished one pair of socks, started another, worked some on a third pair). I think I'm suffering from Being Too Busy right now.

I did manage to Grade All the Things (for some values of All: at least every paper I have on my desk as of TODAY has been graded. More grading will come Friday). I haven't started on the manuscript review but I think maybe tomorrow and Friday morning I can begin that. (I really, really wish I had not agreed to do this now. Making time for it, making time to do a good job on it, will be a challenge.)

But anyway. These are the socks I finished



These are the Antonia socks, knit of the Opal sockyarn designed by an Austrian (? I think Tyrol is Austria) pop princess. I kind of like them as the colors look sort of "rustic" to me.

I'm glad I went to the trouble to wind through the skein and start them both at the same point so they matched. Even though I had to wind off and cut off a big chunk of yarn and worried a bit through the second sock that I'd not have enough to complete them.

These socks have been washed twice. I washed them before the first wearing because Opal is kind of hard at first, but gets softer after washing. And then I wore them home on the train, so I had to wash them after that.

These took really long to complete, but then almost anything I make (unless it's a gift on a deadline) seems to take really long to complete these days.

No more, please.

I've had giant headaches trying to get my train tickets to get home for the Christmas holidays. I ordered them in plenty of time, was told they'd be mailed.

They were never mailed. I called the 1-800 number on Monday, the person said that "the computer says you are going to pick them up at the station."

This is a station that is unmanned, except for about 15 minutes before the train comes. It has one of those Quick-Trak machines, but it was broken twice when I was down there (people going in to get tickets and were unable to, and once it would beep - to alert to an error message being shown - every 30 seconds. Which was not fun for me, waiting in the station for about an hour). It's also a 2 1/2 hour drive, one way, for me. So driving down there this weekend to get my tickets is so far out of the realm of options that it doesn't even share any letters with the word "option."

I explained that, as politely as I could manage, to the person.

She agreed to change it.

This morning, I get an e-mail giving me detailed directions and a bar code to use with the Quick-Trak machine.

Okay, I have to back up here a bit and explain what else has been going on in my life: three plagiarized papers in one class, including one person who got belligerent via e-mail and challenged the very definition of "plagiarism." (Don't even, honey. Don't even. I'm older than you, more powerful than you, AND I gave a presentation on plagiarism this fall. I know every definition there is that colleges use and your definition comes no where close to any of them).

I also graded a large number of papers that were, to put it delicately, rather disappointing.

I spent some four hours listening to and grading student presentations yesterday.

I'm getting over a mild stomach virus.

I have 18 student papers from another class to grade.

I have one final made up, but another one to spiff up and make ready.

I have a journal article manuscript that I MUST review - MUST, there is no other option - before the end of next week.

I REALLY need to examine my fall soil organism samples before they start to break down or the preservative starts to evaporate.

I need to prepare my syllabi and lab packet for next semester. Our secretary is retiring and AT BEST we are getting a part time person for next semester, so that means duties like getting copying to the copy shop and such is going to be on us.

I have a yard full of leaves that are not raking themselves.

I have to make two batches of raspberry-glazed turkey meatballs tonight for two different get-togethers.

I have had students with major technical difficulties dealing with things.

So, I was really really really really really really out of cope right at that moment. I briefly melted down, then dialed Amtrak. Spent several minutes convincing "Julie" (their automated daemon) that NO I DO NOT WANT TO WORK WITH YOU BECAUSE YOU CANNOT HELP ME.

Finally got a person. Waited on hold for a while.

I have been told the tickets are in the mail.

And that I get a "bus substitution" from St. Louis to Bloomington, thanks to trackwork. The good news is that's during the day, so at least I will be able to sleep in the compartment, but I'm really not happy about the busing.

Then, I go to class and have two students giving a presentation who wind up with technical difficulties. Not giant technical difficulties, but they begin to seem that way after a while.

I am really and truly hanging on with my fingernails to sanity. I know I've gotten melodramatic about how bad the end of the semester is before, but this is worse than I remember it as ever being.

Please, God or the Universe or whoever is in charge of this: Don't throw anything more at me for me to cope with for a while. I've reached the breaking point and I don't know that I can respond to anything more without either weeping or screaming.

And Also:

I almost forgot.

A happy Hanukkah to all who celebrate. (I guess today is the first day of it?)

Notes to myself

Other people's fecklessness and irresponsibility are NOT your problem. If someone fails to come and get an assignment from you when you have told them three times they need to get it, you are under NO obligation to give them extra time to complete it when they finally do come and get it. In fact, you are probably under an obligation to be tough with them because apparently no one else has been before and they don't understand the concept of deadlines.

Other people's fecklessness should not prevent you from getting the things you need to do, and things you want to do (like finishing up some research before break) done. Your priorities also get priority in this world. You are not these people's mother, and even if you were, they are over 18 and their own mothers no longer have a legal or even ethical obligation to salve their boo-boos and mop up after them.

It is okay to sometimes say not just "No," but "Hell, no!" when someone expects something of you that is far over and above any accommodation you would have even dreamed of when you were a student.

It is also not your fault when students fail to earn a passing grade in your classes, no matter how much they may try to make you feel that.

The world will not come to an end if you do not get the leaves raked out of your yard this week.

It is probably okay to say to yourself that you deserve a little time to just sit in your comfortable chair tonight and knit or crochet.