Apron Strings

In Which I Convince My Husband to Forsake Cox Cable

2012-01-17T07:39:00.000-08:00

We're on a pretty tight budget most of the time. My husband makes plenty of money, but we have too many kids and too many pets. Hence the budget.

We love watching television, and we have a couple of really nice ones. (I can justify this expense with the fact that we don't travel and we rarely go on expensive dates.) My husband enjoys things that are broadcast in HD. I don't really understand that. All I know is that my televisions are big, colorful, and clear, unlike the 13 inch black and white one that my dad and I had when I was a teenager. Those of you who were alive when the earth was still cooling probably know what I'm talking about: they had knobs, no remote controls, and the picture would do that weird rolling thing. It makes me happy that that type of thing is in my past.

HD cable TV has been a bone of contention between John and me for a year or so. It's expensive and I can never find anything to watch. We've spent precious hours scrolling through hundreds of channels only to turn to our Netflix account for entertainment. But John wanted it, so we kept it, at an expense of over $100.00 a month. I would whine about it and suggest that we cancel our account and he would say "No, I want cable, so we're keeping cable". $100.00 a month for Nancy Grace, Anderson Cooper, America's Next Top Model and 19 Kids and Counting. He didn't watch those, of course; he's in the Navy and was spending most of his time deployed. Not even home to enjoy his cable. It was the kids and me, damaging our brains with what surely could only be the intellectual equivalent of eating McDonald's for dinner every night. And really, nobody needs to watch Nancy Grace in high def.

My pleading continued, and finally, as we teetered on the precipice of paying for dance competition season, buying bagpipes for our 9 year old, and getting ready to send our high school senior off to college, we were forced to reevaluate our lifestyle. We needed that $100.00 a month more than we needed a clearer image of Anderson Cooper's blue, blue eyes, so John gave in, and I was sent to Cox cable to turn in our dvr and cable box. I felt thrifty, free, and triumphant.

So what do we watch now that we don't have 2,000 channels? We still have Netflix and we subscribed to Hulu Plus, which is about $8.00 a month. So before, our tv expense was about 125.oo per month. Now it's about $32.00. Much better.

It still wasn't perfect, though. Thanksgiving rolled around and we couldn't watch the cheesy parade because we had no local stations. Then New Years Eve rolled around and we couldn't watch the ball drop. What to do? So John did an internet search, searched the garage for some crap. 'Cos god knows, he hoards all the crap. And he did this:

It's a board from an old futon frame and some wire coat hangers. I don't know what those other things are, nor do I care.

Which resulted in an HD antenna:

The antenna is totally white trash, but the picture is amazing. He mounted it on the back of our dresser and is slightly annoyed that I didn't take a picture of that, too. A splitter was added so that we can use the antenna on our living room TV as well. Now, if we want to be terrified we can watch the local news and weather, we can fall asleep watching Saturday Night Live at it's original time, PBS, and we can catch several religious stations when the mood strikes. Just kidding. We're not watching Bible TV at all. Between Netflix and Hulu, we've got more to watch than we have the time for. But I'm glad to have that antenna (and that extra $100.00) just in case.

On Becoming a Grandmother

2011-11-03T19:17:00.000-07:00

Three months ago, I became a grandmother. Willingly? No, because the timing was horrible and the circumstances were less than ideal. And I'm just not old enough to have a child who's a mother. When we think of grandmothers, we imagine doddering ladies with white hair and huge purses who listen to Lawrence Welk. I wear Birkenstocks and concert t-shirts, and jam out to Heart and Peter Frampton. To complicate matters, I have even less of an idea how to be a grandmother than I did how to mother my own children.

In the picture below I'm not raving emotionally about how beautiful this new life is. I'm saying, "Ew! Gross!" because umbilical cords are creepy, and this is the first one I've ever cut. You really have to work those scissors, because cords are tough. But I was there to cut it.

My mother checked out when I was 17, so my kids never really had that stereotypical, enthralled granny who wanted to know everything about them, who called every Sunday, who came to visit, and was imperfectly perfect in her own way. As in motherhood, I have no blueprint for either being a grandmother or mothering the mother of my grandchild. Very important jobs, when you think about it. There are a lot of funny quotes about how grandchildren are a reward for not killing your children or a reward for properly raising your children. My children are all alive, so there's that. As for raising them properly, the oldest is only 20, so I can't claim that one yet. Maybe my granddaughter is my reward for just being there.

I have no idea what I'm saying to the baby in this picture. It was the middle of the night and I probably was making no sense. But I look like I know what I'm doing, right? And I was there so that she wouldn't be too lonely while they baked her on the baby-warmer.

I won't be perfect. I'll interfere sometimes, say the wrong thing, not be available constantly, forget the rules, and generally be a pain in the ass at times. (You people with moms and grandmothers: I know you complain about them. Don't deny it.) The cool thing about making mistakes, though, is that you can start over the next day. I wish my own mom had known that. Perhaps I wouldn't be so clueless right now. But I'm here! That counts for a lot.

She's got to learn how to flip the bird from somebody.

My Daughter's Freshman Scholar's Assignment...

2009-02-24T16:53:00.001-08:00

I have not blogged in a while...kids, the house, various catastrophies have all conspired to keep me from being really, truly creative. I don't have to be, though, because I have Ione's schoolwork to thrill and inspire me.
School sure has changed a lot since I went. I don't know if my teachers would have understood what my child has written here, but I hope that *her* teachers have a good sense of humor. Having said that, I present to you Ione's Freshman Scholar's Assignment:

Zeus’s Umbrella

Zeus’s Umbrella is a magic device that protects you from Zeus’s evil rains. You will always be safe under the protection of zeus’s umbrella ella ella. They are magic and can help you fly. They come in every color except purple, white, and chartreuse. Zeus’s umbrellas can be used for protection, hiding, assaulting and lightning reflecting. They can also do your homework and walk your dog. ORDER NOW AT USEPROTECTION.COM OR CALL 666-6666 AND GET YOU ZEUS’S UMBRELLA FOR FIVE EASY PAYMENTS OF $29.95. ZEUS’S UMBRELLAS MAKE THE WORLD A BETTER PLACE. All you have to do is believe!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So order now!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Useprotection.com

666-6666

USE PROTECTION. DON’T GET WET

Our tax dollars at work so that Ione can practice her comedic skills. I am so proud.

Vacuum, Shmacuum...

2008-12-11T19:01:00.001-08:00

I just bought a Dyson Animal Vacuum cleaner. It's almost Christmas and I had to spend money on a vacuum. I feel guilty to my very core, but there's nothing I can do. I have floors, I have rugs, I have animals, therefore I must clean. Vacuums and I have a long, sad history, beleaguered with problems, heartache, and expense. I remember my husband and I, a young couple with a 5 month old baby and a carpeted apartment, going to Montgomery Ward to purchase one. (Why in the hell did we go to Montgomery Ward? Who goes there? Do they still exisit? Why didn't we just go to Target?) After much hand wringing and knashing of teeth as we fretted with the sales lady over motor strength and price, we walked out with a vacuum that literally broke down every time we rolled it over something harder than a large ball of lint. Imagine the horror of a young mother who can't keep her floors immulate for her baby; what if the little thing gets dirty? So the years passed and we bought cheap vacuum after cheap vacuum, never spending more than $80.00 or so, but never managing to keep the same one for more than a few months, or if we were lucky, a year. This frustrated me, and my frustration led me, powerlessly, almost as if in a trance, to Costco, that delightful warehouse store to beat all warehouse stores. I sweated, I wrung my hands, I grabbed strangers by the arm and, pointing at the display of Dysons, asked, "Do *you* have one of these????" The thought of spending $349.00 on something that will make extra work for me was horrifying. If a vacuum doesn't work well, why should I vacuum my couch and chair cushions? If it's just going to spit the dirt back out at me, why bother vacuuming the stairs? I can sit and knit, or cuddle with 6 year old and watch "Spongbob Squarepants." But I reluctantly put the big box with the little picture of that handsome Englishman who talks about "cyclone technology" in the commercial in my cart, and trying not to throw up, went to the registers and paid for it. Normally a big purchase will give me a thrill. $300 on a chest freezer? That made me feel like a real woman for the first time in my life. Forget childbirth and breastfeeding like a freaking superhero; the beauty of that pristine, white appliance sent chills down my spine as I anticipated large, bulk quanties of food purchased and nestled snugly within it's shiny walls. Several hundred dollars dropped on a Kitchenaid mixer? I was high for weeks! The bread dough...the cookies...the muffins! Oh, the delight of gazing at my beautiful mixer while reveling in my good fortune. Shouldn't the purchase of a lovely purple vacuum fill me with the same sense of domestic well being? No, because I look at it and wonder if it, too, will betray me like the dozens of vacuums that came before it. I don't trust that label that boasts, "5 Year Warranty!!!!!!!" It may be *lying* to me. What if it breaks? What if it can't withstand the torture of white Boxer hair, cat fur, and non-clumping cat litter? But then again, maybe I'll end up loving it. Maybe it will be everything that the commercials proclaim it to be. Maybe it will be so amazing that my children will fight over it when I die! So tomorrow, I will carefully open the box, and read the directions and warranty information meticulously before I assemble the purple amazingness that is a Dyson Animal. Because god knows, I sign loan documents, medical documents, and cell phone contracts with nary a glance, but this is a $349.00 vacuum cleaner, damn it! You can't be too careful!

I'd Walk Over You To See The Who....

2008-11-12T17:35:00.000-08:00

Okay, I know, that's really not funny. It's making light of a tragic event that happened in the '70s when some unfortunate concert goers were trampled because not enough doors were opened at a concert venue. Crowd control is better these days, thank goodness, so we music lovers can go forth and see our favorite artists without fear of a freakish, accidental death. And I most certainly did that last week (although any time I venture more than a few miles from my children I wonder what would happen if I died, but I digress...) I saw The Who with my friend Tammi.

It was my third time seeing them. The first time was back in 1982, more than 26 years ago. The tour was "It's Hard". I was all of 16, and vaguely asking my father if I could *please* drive to Lexington, Kentucky to see The Who, with my best friend Chris, her boyfriend John (who is now my husband) and John's friend Keith. There is a faint memory of Daddy agreeing to this, and honestly, what father *wouldn't* allow his young daughter to be transported across state lines by two young men who are 18 years old? I shudder at the thought when I look at my own daughters, but the kid in me is very glad that he let me go. Honestly, I barely knew who they were at that time, but they quickly became my favorite. Everyone else I knew loved The Beatles, Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones (we were rebel kids and eschewed most new music at that time...) but I fell in love with The Who and couldn't get enough.

The second time was with that young man who drove me and my lucky friend to Kentucky, only this time, I was the lucky one in the front seat with him. We went to Atlanta, Georgia, and it was the "Tommy" reunion tour back in '89, I think. We had a wonderful time, my life was complete; I'd seen my favorite band a second time and that was enough.

And I lost interest for a long time. Parenthood took priority; music was something in the background and most of the time *that* was Disney or Raffi. But then I started noticing The Who (the two who remain) all over cable T.V., documentaries, "VH1 Rock Honors", and what have you. One morning, surfing on the computer, I discovered they were touring, with tickets on sale for a show in D.C. and it seemed possible, but maybe not... I'd never been to D.C. before. Could I drive there? John will be deployed. Should I go alone? Is it stupid, too much money, irresponsible, and what about *the kids*??? After talking to John, I just went ahead and bought tickets, and let the rest of it work itself out. My friend Tammi was my date, my friend Susan slept over with my big kids, my friend Rosemary kept my little ones and Tammi's husband Lou provided an awesome free hotel room with his Mariott points. So we drove up, threw our bags in our room, drove to the station and took the metro into Chinatown, and here is what we saw:

Warning: Horrible pictures!

It was an awesome show, with the exception of Hoodie Boy (see obnoxious blue striped hoodie in top photo), who blocked our view for a good part of the concert. Neither of us ever got a good view of Roger Daltrey or Pete Townshend at the same time, only little bits and snatches as we stood on tiptoe and craned our necks. It was a *good* time, though. They were generous and very gracious, playing hard for well over two hours. The music was familiar and comforting, everything I loved to listen to when I was experiencing those hard, grueling years of trying to grow up. Roger Daltrey joked at the end about feeling like he'd gone a few rounds with Mike Tyson, but he looked just fine from where I was standing. Both he and Pete were in top form, Roger hitting every note and Pete just as amazing as ever, if not quite as agile on the feet as he was in his earlier years. They're in their 60's, but I think they've got a lot of good years left in them. Maybe even another tour or two. Please? I'd love to go for Number Four, and god knows, I'd Walk Over You To See The Who.

Obligatory Blog Post...

2008-10-09T16:26:00.000-07:00

I am stopping in the middle of an insane number of vital, household responsiblities to reflect on the pleasant "triumphs" of my week in an effort to convince myself that I am, indeed, keeping things under control.

Notice my lovely, compliant Boxer. She is putty in my hands most of the time, letting me pose her in ridiculous contortions and humiliate her on the internet. Sometimes I play with her lips and roll them back in such a manner as to expose her extreme underbite, allowing her bottom teeth to protude up over her top lips. It's amusing. As she has helped drain my checking account, she owes me *at least* this much. I think I'll knit her a hideous sweater with dinosaur spikes and make her wear it. Vandie was Ione's idea, but she's mine, all mine. I'll do with her as I wish. Muuuwaaaahahahahahah!

I'm now a Loopy Groupy! Last week's sock yarn purchase turned into a windfall of knitting goodness: an awesome vinyl bag, a keychain, candy (!!), a beautiful skein of sockyarn, and a nice pattern. I wasn't expecting any of it, which made it all the more exciting. I'm convinced that Sheri at the Loopy Ewe is one of the most thoughtful people in the world; it takes a special soul to be that generous with clients, and this one most certainly is grateful. It's good to get a present after a crappy week.

Notice the lovely skeins. The multi-color is Gypsy Knits DK in the Sea Legs colorway. The turquoise and brown is J Knits Sock Yarn. I am enthralled. Vandie was, too; so much so that she tried to eat both skeins. I saved them.

Homeschooling! Jillian is into the Ancient Egypt portion of her _Story of the World_ curriculum. We mummified an apple, leaving the raw chicken to braver folks.

A sarcophagus for the apple mummy:

Proof that I am not going to hell in a handbasket: a nutritious meal for my spawn. Tofu Noodle Casserole from the _Vegetarian Family Cookbook_ by Nava Atlas. Great cookbook. I did put in more cheese than it initially called for. Like five times the recommended amount. What? Everybody doesn't quintuple the amount of cheese in every recipe they cook? Oh. Well. I did give them broccoli, too.

Hey Yall, Watch This!

2008-09-20T11:48:00.000-07:00

Today was the day to take air conditioners out of the window. It's a tough job, and with John and all his mad muscle power gone, Kirsten's boyfriend, Ben, kindly offered to do it for me. One of the air conditioners, however, stopped blowing cold midway through the summer, so I suggested just tossing it in the garbage can. Ben suggested putting said garbage can under the window and just letting it drop. (In all fairness, those A.C.s are heavy and he had already taken several down to the basement.) So that's what we did:

I didn't realize the video would be sideways when I was taking it. I held the camera wrong in order to get the full shot, so we have to turn our heads to see it. Still funny, though, and a brilliant look at *Coping: Navy Family Style*.

We Have an F.O.!!!!

2008-09-17T15:59:00.000-07:00

Here is my lovely daughter, Ione, modeling said F.O. ("finished object" for those of you who aren't hip to my mad knitting language skills, yo.) This one nearly sucked the life out of me. Great pattern, no mistakes, easy as all get out, but I just didn't enjoy it. Too much purling and too much reading. If you don't mind reading and purling, however, this is the scarf for you. It's really pretty, though!

Bella the Cat is pleased to present a doggy sweater pattern from Fiber Trends, and some very lovely rose colored Encore Worsted yarn. I bought the lot from The Naked Sheep. I love to order from her. Okay prices, but a good variety, and her shipping is amazingly low. I'm always happy with my purchases. I'm going to make a sweater for Vandie (the bane of poor Bella's existance). Vandie's hair is very thin and I'm concerned that she'll be too cold this winter. Hopefully she won't eat the sweater when I'm not looking. Guess we need to work on the whole "don't act like a wild monster" thing, eh?

Saying Goodbye....

2008-09-10T05:00:00.000-07:00

So we dropped John off at the ship Monday morning, then came back a couple of hours later to watch the ship pull away. The kids hung out with friends and we had a fine view. I even got to see John standing in some large hole in the ship...well, his sillouette anyway, and I could see his hand waving. We won't see him again for seven months.

Here's the ship after the tug pushed it out and away from the pier Although sad, it was extremely cool watching it go. I'm really glad we went.

After we tortured ourselves watching it float away, we headed to Oceanview where we saw this:

Then we chatted for a bit, watching the rest of the battle group go by. Jillian found a dead crab. I am impressed that she picked it up. Once your dad leaves for what's an infathomable amount of time, picking up dead crap is not a big deal.

I'm trying not to think about how much this is going to suck, for John and for me. We'll be fine, because we always are, but the whole process is truly like pushing a piano up a staircase. Nobody in their right mind would ever attempt it, so that doesn't say a lot of good things about those of us who do this over and over. Missed birthdays, missed anniversaries, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Valentine's Day (well, I hate that one, so that's okay, but...) It really takes a toll. I think about the families who've never done a deployment, or haven't done many. The pregnant moms who'll deliver during this deployment, and the dads who are leaving behind newborns, the little kids who are dealing with it for the first time. The families with problems who'll have to do their best without a second parent at home. It's a long time to wait, and it's a hard transition when the sailors come home. Be nice to that Navy family that you know; they put up with a lot and really don't expect much, but there are some things that we'd like to avoid, which leads me to:

THINGS YOU SHOULD NEVER SAY TO NAVY SPOUSE Who's Husband is on a Lengthy Deployment:

"That's not so bad." Uh, yeah it is. Even if it's a two week workup, it *is* that bad. Two weeks out may very well have been preceded by a week in, which may have been preceded by six weeks out. Or the ultimate insult: out for 29 day, pulling in for one day, then leaving again for six. Why? Because if a sailor is underway for over a month, the Navy has to pay separation pay. They will literally pull in to avoid giving sailors extra money. So yes, that two weeks is bad. Exception: the wife who's sailor is gone for the real deal. She can say whatever the hell she wants to.

"Wow. I could never leave my wife for that long." Really!?! Why would anyone say something like that? It's not like all of us Navy wives are reeling in self-esteem! Our husbands, for whatever reasons, chose a career that takes them away for long periods of time. They aren't kidnapped from shore, indentured, and forced to go on a Med Cruise. They sign a piece of paper willingly. There is no coersion. Dude-that-said-that-to-me, you are a creton, and I feel sorry for your wife if you are always that insensitive.

"My wife and I like each other waaaaay too much to be away from each other like that!" Again, *Really??!!??* Okay, first of all, *I doubt that* and second of all, I challenge you to a "Marriage-Off" anytime, anyday. I've been married to this guy for over 20 years, and for the most part, I think we've had a below-average amount of problems in our marriage. We still have sex, more than average most likely, we still snuggle, when he's home we're in the same bed, we still go out on fabulous dates, we hold hands, and we throw our legs all over each other while we're trying to get comfortable at night. I'm willing to bet we'll be like those old couples you see holding hands in the grocery store, so think about *that*, you insensitive tool. You have been served.

"I don't know how you people do it. Well, if you take a liking to the mailman, use a rubber." Uhm..."you people"????? A "rubber"???? Like I'm too stupid to understand the word "condom"??? *I kid you not.*The OB-GYN who delivered my first child said this to me. I was 24 years old, had just had a C-section, John was in Egypt on Med-Cruise, and I was about to be discharged from the hospital. When *he who shall not be named* asked me what my birth control plans were, I innocently answered, "Well, I don't really need birth control. My husband's in the Navy and won't be home until December." This OB (and I won't be tacky and post his name) ruined my pregnancy, ruined my birth, was disrespectful to me, and I will bet money that he's got one of those obnoxious "Support the Troops" magnets on his expensive car. Oh, what the hell, I was born tacky, and tacky I shall be. Robert E. Bledsoe is this charming prince's name. I doubt if anyone in McMinn County, Tennessee who's shopping for a birth attendant is reading my humble blog. If so, ladies, you have been warned.

You know, I think it's a simple matter of thinking before you speak. Nobody's perfect, and it's hard to put yourself in the shoes of someone going through something that you may never deal with. Everybody's experience is different, and there are harder things than the Navy. Just being alive, raising a family, and surviving should humble us and make us more gentle with each other. Being human, being *nice* is the key. That's not a far stretch for any of us. And when I'm grumpy, when I'm ready to kill my kids, when I'm exhausted from carrying a more-than- full load, I'll try to remember how it feels when others are thoughtless to me, and I'll do my best to think before I open my mouth and pollute the world with a lot of hot, ignorant air.

Life as Usual...

2008-09-03T12:57:00.001-07:00

Day 2 of having two kids in public school, and I am doing fine. We're still ironing out kinks and getting used to the schedule, but it's okay. I assigned each girl her own bathroom in an attempt to keep early morning territory arguments to a minimum. However, two mornings in a row, we have caught Kirsten and Ione in the downstairs bathroom, talking about school and collaboratively putting makeup. We sneak away quickly, leaving them unaware, hoping to not disturb the teenage magic. No, I'm not misty eyed about this, nor am I fooling myself in any way; I know they'll get into some sort of ridiculous fight over the hair dryer sooner or later. I do appreciate those Norman Rockwell moments when I can get them, though.

Knitting! We have a poncho, fringe and all:

I'm okay with it; it swallows her, so there's lots of room to grow. I only hope she doesn't decide that it's itchy.

Elisa nest tote:

I'm really happy with this, and I'll definitely make more. My handles aren't as neat at the kitchener stitched connection as I would like, but it's good enough. At the moment, I'm battling an allergy attack that feels more like a mild bug, so I'm not knitting enough. I'm working on the Asherton Scarf, which I'm finding dreadfully tedious. I have to pay attention to it, and I need more mindless knitting right now. It's promised to Ione, though, so I've got to hurry and have it done by the time it gets cold. I really just need to go through my stash, organize it, and look through my patterns and find something to get excited about. It's hard to really want to do anything when I'm sort of sick, and when everything is just kind of thrown all over the place. Must...get...my...crap...together!

High School Kid....

2008-09-01T17:33:00.000-07:00

She's going to school in the morning for the first time. I can't go with her. I can't walk her in to make sure that she's okay. I have to put her on the bus with her big sister and know that thousands of kids do this every year and survive. Good kids, kids like her sister, kids that do well and are polite and do great things with their lives. She wants to go, and that makes it a little easier, but my job is to worry and second guess everything, so I will cry and wait for her to come home, hoping that her first day wasn't too rough. That high school is not big enough or smart enough for all of *my* daughter's amazingness. I will miss her horribly.

An Ione Martin Joint...

2008-08-28T12:34:00.000-07:00

To celebrate the end of my blogging dry spell, I present for your enjoyment "H Is For Heelys". This is what children do when their parents won't take them on vacation.

Yes, I Am Quite Superior...

2008-06-19T09:30:00.000-07:00

As a 1930s wife, I am
Very Superior

Take the test!

I took this yesterday and got an 89. I took it today and got a 95.

It's Done!

2008-06-15T12:01:00.001-07:00

For some reason, I can't get the picture to rotate the right way, but if one tilts one's head to the left, one can see that it is indeed a complete sweater-clean, dry, and with buttons. It's no longer in my house, but in the possession of the woman I knitted it for. I don't think it turned out bad at all. I hope it wears well and is enjoyed.

Our new dog Vandie is settling in. It amazes me that Boxers ever got a "tough" reputation and that not many people know how genuinely sweet they are with families. Descended from the extinct Bullenbeisser and the English Bulldog, their "jobs" have included attack dog, messenger, guard dog, and military dog. That's a bad-assed dog, right? Well, I don't know...

She's asleep in this picture. Ione didn't put her there. Vandie climbed into her lap and conked out. It doesn't surprise me that she's wonderful with the kids. Patient as the day is long, tolerant of the noisy household and activity, forgiving of stumbling kids and adults who might trip over her, Vandie is all about the family and getting in the middle of everyone. She hits herself in the face frequently with her wagging tail (her previous folks didn't dock it when she was a pup) and we usually have to carry her to her crate at night. It's not easy to hoist a 40 pound dog. Having her in our home is really exciting. She's very young, a puppy actually. We have a lot of years with this dog ahead of us; hopefully only a small portion of which will be spent smoothing her few rough edges, and the rest spent learning and playing. She's an awesome dog!

Oh God, Will It Never End?

2008-06-03T04:11:00.000-07:00

I am still plowing away doggedly at a sweater that I started last month. (I think it was last month...I tell myself that, but I really think I started it in April. Or maybe March. I will always say that I started this sweater last month because it's taking so long to knit that I can't bear to think how much time I've devoted to it.)
It's a barter sweater; in exchange for a spinning wheel that a friend no longer wanted, I am knitting said friend a sweater. Easy, right? Just a simple v-neck cardigan; piece of cake. I'm almost done. There are even buttons in a bag waiting to be sewn on. That is, if I ever get the button bands on the sweater. My goal was to be done last night (Sunday, June 2). I was plowing away and had finished one band. I held it up triumphantly, and realized that the whole band was short and drawn up, causing the sweater to gather along the front edge. Picture, if you will, a sweater that fits fine and is the proper length in back, but is gathered up over the belly button in front. That's what happened. I have gauge; I followed the directions to the letter. I don't know what happened. There is no picture to document this grim outcome, as I immediately ripped the whole thing back. I now have to start again, this time with a larger needle. Maybe if I hide in the closet with a rag and a bottle of ether for a while, this won't seem so bad.
Don't get me wrong; I love the sweater. I love the spinning wheel that I knitting in exchange for. The woman I am trading with is delightful in every way. I swear to all that is good in this world, though, if it doesn't fit, I'm giving the wheel back. I can't knit this project again. (That sound is my head banging against my kitchen counter.)

Hide Your Knives Part Deux...

2008-05-19T18:58:00.000-07:00

A threat from my emotionally disturbed child:

Apparently it's a plea for a wholesome breakfast:

I guess I'll have to work on that.
Said disturbed child getting a massage from Sylvia. Reason 124,469 to have a cat: bitchin' backrubs.

Knitting Progress...

2008-05-14T09:11:00.001-07:00

I will never *not* have an easy pair of socks on the needles again. There have been at least five occasions over the last week or so when I've needed something tiny to work on. It's a good excuse to always be buying sock yarn, so it's a win-win for me. These socks are being knitted in Cherry Tree Hill Super Sock in the "Cabin Fever" colorway. It's the first time I've used Cherry Tree Hill. The color is amazing; much more complex than the picture shows; it's reds, pink, purple, gold and brown. Just gorgeous.
Melissa's sweater in progress. It looks like a "hot mess", but I'm really happy with the way it's coming along. The end is in sight; I've got to do the ribbing at the botton, knit the sleeves, do the button bands and the collar. It sounds like more work than it actually is. Just having the body done makes my heart sing.

Mother's Day present from John: Knit Picks Options in Harmony Wood, plus the Harmony sock set. The man knows how to shop, and I am a happy, happy girl. Not a great picture, but a lovely model who doesn't mind me making him look like a fool as long as he can just hang out on the bed with me. I'll post more about my Mother's Day when I have more mental energy.

Because I'm just too tired to give a damn anymore...

2008-05-13T17:13:00.000-07:00

I'm playing "refrigerator tag"! Melina, Shez, and Lydia are playing, too. They probably have me beaten on the cleanliness factor, but I have consumed a Fat Weasel beer and I really don't care. Here's my lurvly fridge with an enchanting model and an amusing dog:

Lacking cabinet and counter space, I have many things piled on top of my fridge- the most exciting of which is the Rubbermaid full of meal worm beetles that Gwyneth is "growing" for the S.P.C.A. Four kids, plus the dogs and cats aren't enough; I have to have bugs in my house, too. My fridge is always at it's most frightening when it's time to go grocery shopping. You can tell we need to shop. There is much gone-by produce, several mold cultures, and some frostbitten items.

Max is always on the search for something smelly and good, but alas, he is too short to reach the copius supply of leftovers.

As an added bonus, I am showing off my exciting magnet collection. I am a "Napoleon Dynamite" fan, and also a huge "Wizard of Oz" freak. (Note the fact that I have two Cairn Terriers.) I'm especially proud of my very expensive "Gay Bill and Gay Al" magnet. A girl has to have a little fun, you know.

I just hope there is never a "What's in your closet right now?" blog tag. Ugh.

She Blinded Me With Science...

2008-05-07T12:20:00.000-07:00

No, I'm not 80's Dancing while I blog, and you should be glad of it. We went to the Guess Science Fair this week, and my kids had a blast.

Ione was our lovely, enthusiastic registrar.

Gwyneth is showing off her "Crazy Color Egg-speriment".

Jillian is being interviewed by one of the judges.

This is just one of the hundreds of reasons why Norfolk is a great city to homeschool in. As we were leaving to go to the fair, after spending a frenzied evening and morning finishing up the experiments, I told the girls, "This will be fun. All our friends are there and we'll hang and have a great time." And we did. What a bunch of wonderful moms, great kids, and brilliant minds, all in a warm and supportive enviroment. Not to mention a great library to host the whole thing. My kids have never done a science fair, so this was a great introduction to a little friendly competition. And it's proof, wild and fantastic proof, that the secular homeschooling community can pull off something this amazing. I can't wait to do it again next year.

Moving Right Along...

2008-04-21T07:22:00.001-07:00

Here's the Lace Ribbon Scarf from the Spring edition of Knitty. I'm enjoying it, but I already feel like I've been working on it forever. I started it two weeks ago, and this is as far as I've gotten. Maybe if I stop cooking and driving kids around I can make some real progress. I'll feel better when I'm done and can actually wear it. As always, Bella is my enthusiastic model. She's fierce!

One of the things that all homeschool moms do with their children is to make the Baking Soda and Vinegar Volcano. You can't be a homeschooler and *not* do it; it's one of those things like buying Saxon Math and filing an NOI, having a messy house and caterpillers in your diningroom. I have four children, and I'm pretty sure I've made at least three of the smelly things so far.

Max eats tennis balls. Maisy is looking on in disgust, whining loudly as he destroys the brand new ball. If she had a little doggy cartoon bubble over her head, it would say, "Damn it! We can NEVER have nice things anymore!" Poor Maisy.

Happy Socks...

2008-04-16T14:31:00.001-07:00

I love this pattern, and I love the colorway. Lorna's Laces Shepard Sock in "Hawaii".

I've swatched for the sweater I'm making for the spinning wheel trade, and I think it will go well. The swatch is very pretty and close enough to gauge for me to feel comfortable washing it, then checking it again and then proceeding with sweater. I'm using Cascade 220 in Straw, which is heartbreakingly gorgeous. Web's is having a killer sale, so I made out like a bandit!

A picture of my darlings at a sheep shearing demo at Chippoke State Park. I was less than thrilled with the demo. I don't think they expected the throngs of homeschoolers that showed up, and we didn't get a very good view of the actual shearing. The scenery was lovely, however, and the company was good, and it was a lovely morning.

She's In!

2008-04-14T08:46:00.001-07:00

Kirsten was officially accepted to the Governor's School last week. Hurray!

It's an amazing opportunity for her and I think it will be a good experience. She deserves it.

Hide Your Knives!

2008-04-11T09:07:00.000-07:00

I was upstairs messing around one day, and I noticed a piece of paper on the floor. I almost threw it away, but glanced at it before tossing, just to be sure I wasn't getting rid of homework or some masterpiece that one of the kids may have created. It wasn't art, nor was it a report or notes of some kind. It was......

Jillian's World of Terror!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Imagine my horror at finding a picture of a scary looking little girl with angry eyebrows, a circle with a crossed out "G" in the center, and an ominous, if somewhat mispelled, warning. Apparently Jillian had gotten angry at Gwyneth for playing in her Disney Princess tent, so she decided to express her feelings artistically. She drew the tent and Gwyneth, with Gwyneth crossed out (see bottom of picture), the little "No Gwyneth allowed" circle, and her own bad self at the top with the scary eyebrows. Ione was her unknowing accomplice, writing the words down on scrap paper for her for to copy, since Jillian, being only 6 years old, can spell "Jillian" but not "World of Terror". (See upper right hand corner of picture.)

I am frightened, but oddly proud of my child's creativity. I'll be careful not to anger her, and I would advise the general public to make sure their doors are locked at night, just in case Jillian's "World of Terror" descends upon us!

Sweater, Cool Yarn, Buttons, Adorable Dogs, and Presidential Booing...

2008-04-01T16:19:00.000-07:00

Let's talk about President Bush throwing out the first ball for the Washington Nationals. Ouch! I almost, ALMOST, felt bad for him. It's got to suck to get boo'd. A few years ago, the Dixie Chicks got blacklisted for openly criticizing him, and now public opinion of the guy is so bad that anything goes. Next thing you know, he'll be getting pelted with tomatoes and somebody will drag him off his speech podium with one of those long hook things. Now, that would make for some good T.V.!

We have a lovely finished sweater. It's white, it's cute, and it fits Jillian.

Our lovely model:

I am not entirely thrilled with the buttons. They came from some Etsy shop in Canada, so I had to use other buttons on them last Sunday, which made me sad. I just put the new ones on today, and I think they are fine, but I wish I could have found something I liked better. Jillian doesn't seem to object to them.

More stuff from The Loopy Ewe! Dream in Color "Smooshy", which is the most amazing thing I've ever seen in my life, in Ocean Fog colorway. I'm going to make the Lace Ribbon Scarf from Knitty with it. It should be very nice. Check out the awesome free Loopy Ewe stitch marker! I wish I had thousands of dollars to spend there! Super website!

Maisy has made up for her regression in house training by being extra cute this week. I really don't know if cuddliness and a sassy attitude quite make up for huge piles on real dog (as in not puppy) poop. She needs to either learn a cool trick (like not chasing cats) or figure out that excrement goes outside. One or the other. I just can't handle both. I will, but I won't like it.

Her image is blurry, but notice the bared teeth as she tries to bite Max. The past four months have been like living with the Zulu Fetish Doll from the 1970's Karen Black classic "Trilogy of Terror". Come on, click on the link. Better yet, put the movie on your Netflix queu. Good stuff. She's really a wonderful puppy. I've called her "The Fetish Doll" since we got her because of the grunting, the funny noises when she eats, the crazy way she plays with Max. She's like a cute little monster. A monster that poops. (Sigh...)

Happy News...

2008-03-30T14:58:00.000-07:00

My daughter (the big one...)
Who took this picture...

and this picture...

just passed her audition for the Governor's School for the Arts. All she has left to do to be accepted is to get references from teachers and not lose her mind and flunk out. She'll go next year, spending her mornings at Maury and her afternoons at Governor's School, doing what she loves to do.

There are no words. It's one of those moments in parenting that make you think that maybe this whole mommy thing was a good idea. I'll most likely want to ring her neck for one reason or another tomorrow (like when she calls me and asks me to put a load of jeans in to wash because she "forgot"), but for now, I'm stoked for her and quite happy for myself, for being along to see it all happen. It's good.

In Which An Angry, Ovulating Woman Rants About Rude Neighbors at Cookie Delivery Time...

2008-03-17T16:31:00.000-07:00

Yes, person, *you*, who lives at 511 New Jersey Avenue and didn't answer the door even though you were home. You wanted those cookies real bad when you filled out my kid's order form back in January. What happened? I freaking saw you peak between your cheap-assed white plastic mini blinds. So, not only have you no taste, you also don't have $10.50? Are you a victim of the subprime mortgage crisis and can't buy food? Or did you go on a diet? Did you try Atkins? Are you eliminating gluten from your diet? Or are you just a lazy ginormous TOOL who doesn't care about little kids? Yeah, I saw the "My Great Dane is smarter than your honor student!" bumper sticker on your car in your driveway. That may be so, but your Great Dane lives with an A-hole, and your A-holiness rubs off on that dog, so that means that while smart, your dog is an A-hole just like you!

(Ahem!) Now, back to our regularly scheduled boring posts about children, pets, and knitting.

Happy Birthday, Jillian!

2008-03-16T11:34:00.000-07:00

You are 6 years old, you super-cool girl!

Yummy cake!

Gwyneth helps Jillian with her new Nintendo DS.

You will have an awesome year, my girl. You are da bomb!

Robots, Cool Dogs, and Cats in the Sink...

2008-03-15T12:54:00.000-07:00

Really. Bella and Moses just know that the water tastes better when it's fresh out of the filter. They can have a full bowl near by, but when I try to make coffee, here they come:

Sylvia is too dignified to participate in such shenanigans, so she coolly observes from the dog's crate:

We had an awesome field trip to the Norfolk Police Precinct and the K-9 Training Center with Jillian's Girl Scout troop last week. The kids got to climb in the bomb squad truck, and got to see the bomb robot. Now, what's not to love about a robot?

The kids gave the robot a box of Girl Scout cookies as a token of their thanks. Samoas, of course. No yucky sugar free things for Norfolk's Finest! For those of you (there may be 3 or 4 total worldwide and one of them is probably my husband) who crack up and make "Old Glory Robot Insurance" jokes whenever you see a robot or hear the word "robot", or think of robots, here's a link to the beloved fake commercial from Saturday Night Live. "Because they are made of metal...and robots are strong!"

The dogs were the coolest! Gorgeous animals, and so well trained. Well, the first dog that was brought out was an 18 month old puppy who was immediately distracted by the children and ran over to them for kisses. His handler quickly got him back on task and he gave a stellar performance.

Honestly, I think my terriers would give those Shepards a run for their money. (Ha!) It was a great field trip!

Is it summer yet?

2008-03-08T15:36:00.000-08:00

No, it's barely spring, but we're definitely feeling the need to just stop everything and head for the beach. Too cold for that, but I'm really not motivated to do much beyond math and language arts with these guys and get them where they need to go. So we're playing *tons* of board games, and I'm telling myself that this is perfectly okay. At least it's time well spent together. And since we have a new game in our midst, I will give a review. It's called "Rumis" and it's from the makers of "Blokus". I absolutely love it and the kids do, too. One builds Incan structures with blocks, trying to have as many faces of the blocks visible from above as possible at the end of the game. Jillian is too little, but Gwyneth and Ione enjoyed it. It doesn't have quite the same crazy appeal as Blokus, which seemed to bring out a lot of competitive nastiness and name-calling (all in good fun, of course!) but we'll be getting a lot of use out of it.

Yay! Look what I got! Presents!

From the Loopy Ewe (I heart, heart, heart the Loopy Ewe!) two beautiful skeins of Lorna's Laces in the Hawaii colorway, which I purchased, and as a surprise, two little sample yarn cards, and a teeny ball of beautiful red yarn with a tiny sock pattern. She send you presents when you buy stuff! Happy, happy, joy, joy! The other day I got some circulars from Knitpicks, so I'll be starting awesome socks using the Magic Loop. I'm very excited. If I can stay awake in order to do this, I will be doubly thrilled.

Well, it is true that what can happen, *will* happen. Those orders John received to go to FISC for shore duty? Well, that billet is now a CMC billet, so John won't be going on shore duty. There was no negotiating for anything else in the area, since there is *not* anything else in the area for him, so he has extended on the Roosevelt for a year, which means he'll go on deployment at the end of the summer. (Sigh...) I hate to complain. Tons of folks have it much, much worse. We've been on sea duty for four years now, and he's done one MedCruise, and he went down to the Gulf after Katrina hit. A few in and outs, some work-ups, but it hasn't been horrible. Honestly, I'd rather have him on a ship for 6 or 7 months than have him on the ground somewhere in the Middle East. A few days without him this past week, however, and I was really looking forward to him not having to go anywhere for a couple of years. It's just not a good time for him to go away, not that there every would be. Kirsten is learning to drive, Ione starts high school, and I wish he were going to be around for that, for moral support and help. He'll also miss Thanksgiving, our anniversary, the holidays. We'll manage, though, like we always do, and it will be fine. Hopefully, something fabulous billet here in Norfolk will pop up when he starts negotiating again and we'll be good to go.

A new picture of Maisy for the world to behold. She's cute when she's not barking or chewing on poor Max's ears.
And today is John's birthday. He's 44 years old. Heh, heh, heh! That's OLD! No cake for him as he is on the ship. We'll celebrate properly in a few days.

Cats and Dogs...

2008-03-05T07:56:00.001-08:00

Any other time, the cats avoid the dogs like the plague, and the dogs relentlessly pursue the cats for amusement. When it's cold, however, all conflicts are put aside.

I'm the big blob of a human scrunched as close to the edge of the bed as I can get. It was not a restful night. That's three cats, two dogs, and me, with John joining us shortly. I'm sure Jillian came and visited at some point. I need a bigger bed.

Yeah, Baby!

2008-03-05T07:40:00.000-08:00

(Yelled in a very poor Austin Powers accent...) Drive-Thru is done!

I'm very, VERY happy with this. It's not blocked yet, but all the ends are woven in and the armpits are sewn shut. The colorwork was fun and not overwhelming the way colorwork can so often be. It sure took me long enough, though! Five starts in all, four frogs, and I went down not one, but two needle sizes. It might fit Gwyneth next year. Once I get a few WIP's finished up, I may even start another one. Nice, mindless knitting if one isn't too hung up on having it fit an actual person!

In Which Jillian Discusses Nasal Hygiene

2008-02-29T15:39:00.000-08:00

A discussion between Jillian and Gwyneth on the way home from ballet tonight-

Jillian- "You know, Gwyn, when I pick my nose, I wipe it on the floor so that you WALK on it."

Gwyn- (in a disgusted tone) "Jillian!"

Me- (feeling defeated and like there will never be any point in ever cleaning my house again) "Jillian, you need to use a tissue when you pick your nose." (I have never expected a child to *not* pick her nose. It's just goes along with childhood. However, I do expect them to dispose of boogers properly. )

Gwyn- (in a superior tone that only a 10 year old can pull off) "Well, I *blow* my nose!"

Jillian-"I wish we had carpet!"

Gwyn- "Why? So you could put your boogers ON the carpet? "

Jillian- "No, so I could put the boogers UNDER it!"

Picture courtesy of Kirsten, who used to pick her nose, too.

She's 14!

2008-02-22T11:38:00.001-08:00

This is her cake. I think it's pretty cool for a 14 year old to want a "Cow Cake". Thank goodness for Family Fun, because I never could have dreamed up this one. But it pales in comparison to last years "Candy Mountain Candy Cake". I did think this up, but it's inspired by the internet video sensation "Charlie the Unicorn." In case you live under a rock or spend your time more constructively and have never seen "Charlie the Unicorn", here you go:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BFP0q4qzGw4

My kids know the song by heart. I'm very proud.

And here is the Birthday Girl:

I hope 14 is a good year for Ione!

I am knitting away on the "Sweater From Hell" again. I think I've got the gauge right this time. I'm so tired of it, and want desperately to buy yarn (like I need to do that considering the four, full Rubbermaids under my bed!) and start something new. Maybe sweaters are a bad idea and I need to stick to small projects. (Sigh...)

My Kids are Smart

2008-02-13T11:58:00.000-08:00

Jillian is in a little class at Homeschooling Out of the Box, and came home with this cute little picture she had made. The paper was divided into ten sections, and her teacher instructed her to draw "1 blueberry", "2 oranges", "3 bananas", and so on. Jillian proudly showed it to me and I put it on the fridge for her. A day or two passed, and she was hanging out in the kitchen and looking at her picture. Upon close inspection, she noticed that there were only 6 butterflies in her "7" square. Muttering under her breath, she fetched a crayon and drew one more butterfly, and was quite satisfied with herself. It's those little things that make me feel good.

Ione punched the middle out of a pretzel. She is pleased. When they are happy, I am happy.

Lace and the Lack of Proper Equipment and Why I Voted For Hillary Clinton

2008-02-11T10:38:00.001-08:00

Swallowtail Shawl from Interweave Knits Fall 2006. I've been working on this faithfully at night for several days now and am pleased with my progress. I am anticipating being done within two weeks (I'm not going to put too much pressure on myself since one row of the lace chart is time consuming, for me anyway, and after a couple of hours I'm really tired.) A few months ago, I stopped at a LYS to grab some needles, and I noticed that they offered "lace" needles. I wondered briefly what made them more suitable than other needles for lace knitting, but made my purchase and left without asking the shop owner about it. Now, after trying to purl five tight, tiny stitches together, I know that lace needles probably have a much sharper tip than the Inox needles I'm currently working with, and that is why lace needles are probably a good idea if one is going to be spending a lot of time on lace projects. Until I purchase lace needles, I will carry on with my Inox needles, but take off the "nub" stitches (where I knit and yarnover into the same stitch a couple of times) on to tiny size 2's, knit 'em all together, then put them back on the Inoxes. It's tedious, but it's working, and I've learned a lesson. That's one thing I love about knitting: I'm constantly learning something new.

I am happy with the way it's looking, but it's all scrunchy. Since I have nothing to block it with, when I'm done I will order the blocking wires from Knitpicks. The opportunity to shop is a big motivator for finishing this!

Bella is washing Buster. They like to adorn my knitting.

The other day, I mentioned having already voted by absentee ballot for the Super Tuesday Primaries. Some friends and I were talking about who everybody would be voting for. Now, this was a wonderful, inspiring, inclusive, diverse group of homeschooling mothers, and I shouldn't have thought twice about sharing my choice, since these are sensitive women who are my friends. However, aside from joking, I usually save most serious political talk for my husband, unless I'm pretty sure the people I'm talking with are on the same page as I am. You never really know, and I do run with a homeschooling crowd, and while they are a diverse bunch, there is no shortage of conservatives. Not that there's anything *wrong* with that. It's just that I'm *not*. A few years back, during the 2004 Elections, I was all fired up about John Kerry, and when he came to Virginia for a rally, I emailed a playgroup that I had been meeting with about it, because I just assumed they would want to know. And why *wouldn't* I assume that since they were an Earth-Centered, spiritually alternative mothering group? Well, I assumed wrong, since one of them responded to my email with an astounded reply questioning whether or not I was *really* a military wife. Because if you're military, you're Republican, of course. Well, I'm not. But that experience made me worry about sharing my opinion with people about things like that. But, I beat the feeling of sheepishness down and admitted that I did vote for Hillary Clinton. A lot of people really don't like her, but I'm sure that one could single out any of the candidates, Democratic or Republican, and find tons of distasteful facts about them. I was really torn between Hillary Clinton and Barrack Obama, and I still am. I will be very happy if either of them take office in January '09, and it's exciting to be able to witness this kind of history being made. What pushed me over to the Clinton side was this: She's a mother. And she's raised a daughter to adulthood, rather successfully. I rarely see her daughter on the front of those horrible magazines in the check-out line of the grocery store. Never have I seen a picture of Chelsea getting in or out of a car in a mini-dress, wearing no underpants, with a blurry circle over her lady-business. Is that setting the bar too low for mothers? That we produce kids who don't run around, getting drunk and showing their privates to papparazzi? Well, maybe. But we're in a world where privilaged kids who have the world in their hands just can't seem to keep it together. I like to see kids grow up and do well. I like to admire women who've been where I'm going. It's not easy to be a mother, and I think someone who has done it well might be just the person to run a country. I'm struggling along with my four daughters, the oldest of whom is 16. She's okay; she's gets honors grades in high school, doesn't do drugs, skip school, sneak out at night, or any other "bad" things that teenage girls do. At the moment. I realize that any time this could all change at any time, and I will continue to exist in a world of breathholding, wood-knocking, and finger-crossing, praying in my Earthy, Unitarian way that she makes it to adulthood in one piece; a happy, healthy and productive woman. It will be one down and three to go. It's scary to raise kids, and I look to women who have gone before me for inspiration. It takes strength, guts, and character to do it well; skills that a President might need.

Think about what mothers do, other than the usual feeding, housing, and caring of offspring.

1. We are peacemakers, mediating disturbances between siblings and/or friends. Doing this in a skillfull manner without getting injured by flying objects requires talent.

2. We manage many different jobs at one time. Cooking dinner, picking this kid up, dropping this one off, listening to another one's problems. It's constant multi-tasking.

3. We clean up big messes, say we're sorry when we've made mistakes, know when to speak and when to shut the hell up, and know when to take action and when to sit back to just let it ride.

I think those are important skills. Sure, it may be silly of me to base an important decision like voting on the one thing that consumes my whole life, which is being a mother. But if people freely and openly base their decision on who should lead our country because of their religion or how much they dislike certain groups of people, then I can feel good about voting for someone with whom I have something that is very important in common with.

Whining, Cat Poop, and That Damned Sweater

2008-02-06T17:16:00.000-08:00

John's been gone for almost two weeks now, and it feels more like two months. I'm tired, unenthusiastic, burned out, drained. That's really redundant since those words all convey the same state of being, but it's a big feeling, so it deserves lots of descriptives! I shouldn't complain; after all, he'll be home in a day or two, and anyway, I can do this much time standing on my head. I have before. Six weeks here, eight months there, babies born while he's overseas. It's not easy but it's doable, and I've done it and will gladly do it again, as have millions of other military spouses. This has actually been a calm underway time. No appliances failed, nobody needed stitches, the car didn't break down. We've just had little things go wrong this time.
At Ione's horseback lesson, I reclined the seat to get a quick nap. When it was time to go, and I attempted to return said seat to upright position, it refused. I had to cling wildly to the steering wheel as I drove home to see over the steering wheel. No biggie. Then Gwyneth vomited all over the floor mat, splattering a bag of knitting. That's not really a problem, but when one can't find the time or energy to clean the mat, it's just one more thing to worrry about.
I can't email my Yahoo groups, and John's my computer guy. Again, a small problem. No big deal. He'll help me when he gets home, since I really don't want to investigate the issue myself.
Maisy has decided that it's fun to eat cat poop. One of my cats likes to poop beside the bathtub that contains the litter box. I made this discovery the other night when Maisy and I were lying in bed, and Maisy cried briefly, then vomited perfect little cat poops on my beige comforter cover. It was like the "Southpark" episode when the characters decided to eat with their butts and poop with their mouths. Dogs that eat poop have to be really cute so that their caregivers don't put them on the Freecycle list:

No, I would never do that. Maisy is a peach, and I'm in it for the long haul. I can think of worse things than poop-eating.

John received new orders this week. He got a shore duty right here in Norfolk, so we are not moving! We've been waiting and wondering what was going to happen for months now. Speculating about where we could be sent has been stressful, scary, yet oddly thrilling. We've moved every three years since he went back in the Navy. Norfolk was a place we tried to avoid, because it's got a horrible reputation. We didn't want to be here, didn't want to be in the South at all. I'm *from* the South, and while it has it's good points (which I admit now, but never would have a few years ago!) it can be a difficult place for people "like us" to live. Now, we've been here for almost four years, and we're going to spend three more here before it's over with. It's amazing! The one place we didn't want to be, and we'll have spent at least seven years here before it's all over with. So I am glad. There is a wonderful homeschooling community here, I love my friends, I like my church most of the time, and I know my way around. The kids are happy and have tons to do. And Norfolk *is* a beautiful city. We're settled. There's this little part of me, though, that wants the "next big thing", the move, the unknown. The drama of having to pick up and go is impossibly hard, but delicious. Starting over, doing something new, having something better is so tempting. I remember the thrill of leaving San Diego a few years ago. We spent days cleaning our housing unit, getting ready for the inspection, trying to pack and take care of the kids at the same time. Stained carpet that didn't respond to a steam cleaner, and cheap paint that turned to toothpaste when cleaner was sprayed on it, and children crying while saying goodbye to friends. There was nothing fun about it. But once we got on the interstate and made our way out of the city, it *was* fun. The huge, open road with no traffic, the hot desert air when we would make rest stops, driving over the mountains, staying in hotels. It was fun, and certainly the closest thing to vacations that I get. You don't worry about cleaning or cooking on the road! But this is better. I'm in a house that I love, in a good neighborhood. I don't have to worry about selling in a bad housing market. There are many improvements that we need to make, so we can take our time. It is truly a good thing. We'll move someday, most likely. Just not now, and my brain is glad. My soul needs to drive somewhere, though.

I hate The Sweater. After knitting two perfect sleeves, and we're talking perfect gauge and perfect fit, I started the body. I used the same sized needles as the sleeves and assumed all would be well. No, the body is big enough for me. 156 stitches on size 7 needles and it's big enough for a good sized woman. I don't know what I'm doing wrong. I can't be so relaxed and happy that my gauge is that loose! So I'm going down a needle and starting over *again*, but I am not happy about it at all. I have taken a break from it to try to do a little stash busting so I can feel good about ordering more yarn at some point in the near future. I have been working on the Swallowtail Shawl, and I need to finish it. It's only been on the needles for about 8 months now. Oh, the shame. I also made some mittens.

They are pretty. I put a nice twisted rib cuff on them and knitted them with Lamb's Pride Persian Peacock. Those are for Ione. I also started a pair for Gwyneth with some Paton's wool. I've been spinning when I can and I think I'm getting better. The yarn is starting to pile up, and I need to figure out something to do with it. At the very least, I just need to cast on and swatch it and see what it looks like. Spinning is absolutely wonderful. It's relaxing in a different way from knitting. There's thought and skill required, obviously, and it can be frustrating, but it's great to be creative without following a pattern. Once you get going, it's just the same motion over and over, and it's very meditative. And speaking of spinning, my wheel needs some attention right now.

A Bright Happy Spot in a Busy Cloud of Doom...

2008-01-25T09:52:00.000-08:00

It's so pretty! Bartlett Yarn from Halcyon Yarn in Bath, Maine. The colors are Raspberry, and (sigh!)Light Heather. When I saw the Light Heather, I was disappointed because of the abundance of grayish-brownness, but then I noticed the wonderful little multicolored flecks and fell in love. Now the Sweater-That-Ate-My-Brain isn't so intimidating, and I don't dread touching it anymore because I will soon be knitting stripes in the yoke with Raspberry and lovely Light Heather.

To change the subject from knitting to family: Is technology a good thing when your teenager *calls* you on the *cell phone* from her *bedroom* while you're in the *kitchen* because she's too wrapped up in teenage matters to come downstairs with her oh-so-important queries?
I don't think so.

Why I Don't Mind Cleaning Up Poop...

2008-01-22T12:04:00.000-08:00

Is she not cute? Well, yeah, the kids are cute, too, but I'm really glad I don't have to clean up their poop.

The Sweater That Ate My Brain

2008-01-22T11:48:00.000-08:00

If memory serves, Stephanie Pearl-Mcphee wrote once of something called a "Knitting Black Hole", or "Black Hole of Knitting", or something like that. It's where you knit and knit and knit, but the object you are knitting never seems to increase in size. Mind you, your yarn is consumed, but the knitting project stays the same size. This is happening to me right now. I started this sweater, Drive Thru, weeks ago and I'm only this far:

It's partially my fault. I didn't do a gauge swatch (I know, I know...Bad knitter! Bad girl!) I was halfway thru the body when I noticed that the fabric had a fishnet quality to it, so I ripped it all out, grabbed smaller needles and started on the sleeves. Gauge assuredly fine, I knitted and here I am, with a project so boring, so time consuming, so *red* that I fall asleep frequently while knitting, or I'll just do five or so stitches, then drop the whole business, panting pathetically. I'm knitting, I'm running out of yarn, but the body is still only about 6 inches tall. It's the Black Hole of Knitting. I need to knit with a group of people, or at the park with some friends, or in church, or at the movies, etc. to take my mind off the agony that is Drive Thru, knitted from Bartlett Yarn (or Baaatlet if you're a Mainer). It's pretty sweet yarn, actually. It's full of lanolin and is deceptively harsh and scratchy until you wash it, then it blooms and softens beautifully. Not soft enough for a baby, but just right for a 10 year old to run around and be kept warm in. (Sigh) I will invoke the love and tender care of the Knitting Goddess and will steadfastly knit on.

Damned Monster Crust Pie

2008-01-21T06:40:00.001-08:00

Inspired by the movie "Waitress" , Ione and I decided that she needs to learn to make homemade pie. I ran to the store, bought a pie plate and all the ingredients to make a coconut cream pie. Much to my disgust, I noted that the food ingredients were more expensive than one of those pre-baked Mrs. Smith deals. I figured, however, that the homemade result would be better and ever so much more satisfying. Well, I think that as a homeschooling mom of more than ten years now, I should know that you need to learn something well before you try to teach it to your child. I've tried to make pies before, and they've always been dismal failures. Maybe we should have used a real cookbook instead of a questionable, free internet recipe. Maybe I should have called a friend or relative with pie- making experience for guidance. But no, I thought, how hard can this be, and surely it will turn out fine. What exactly does "double crust" mean? What if you don't need a top crust? Are you just supposed to use all the pie dough in the bottom? Why, of course you are! Hence her half inch thick, very substantial crust that one could pick up and eat like a cookie once the filling had been added. And while that totally rocks, eliminates the need for a fork, and wildly appeals to my inner carbo-junkie, I think we need to work on perfecting our technique.

It was pretty good pie, though:

You can't mosh with a camera....

2008-01-15T13:17:00.000-08:00

Kirsten, showing off her backstage access bracelet. She got behind the baracade at the Norva to take close-up pictures of the bands. She's sort of excited. Hopefully she'll get rich and famous and can take care of her dad and me in our old age. The prospect of not eating dogfood when I'm 80 is encouraging, 'cos if I have to keep developing her film and buying her stuff, I *will* be eating dogfood when I'm 80.

Girl Scout Cookies

2008-01-14T16:25:00.001-08:00

It happens every year. The Christmas lights are taken down, the tree is long gone, and the kids are back to home/highschool My head is still swimming from trying to reestablish my routine , and I am once again presented with the Dreaded Girl Scout Cookie Form. My ten year old daughter, who still thinks that this time of years rivals Halloween and birthdays, waves it wildly, marveling at the new cookies, planning which boxes of cookies we'll spend $3.50 per box on. It's a wonderful time for her, and I remember the days when I, too, an enthusiastic mother of a Girl Scout, was ready to walk the neighborhood from morning until night to help my young one fullfill her cookie goal. Now, however, I glare balefully at the cookie form and the familiar baby-poop yellow money envelope and realize that not only will I be devoting time to this fund-raising adventure, but I will be parting with much money as well.

The door to door adventure begins. My daughter knocks on doors. Some of those doors are answered, some are not. Some people are excited to see us, and happily order cookies. Other people just don't want cookies, and send us on our way. That's fine. No hard feelings. I, too, don't always want to fork out money for fundraising events, and I understand. My confusion (actually, my fury) lies with those who answer their doors and announce to us, "It's a bad time. Can you come back later?" I'm not sure if the people who react to us this way geniunely want cookies but just can't spare the 4 minutes it takes for the business transaction to occur, or if they hate cookies and just don't want to hurt my daughter's feelings. Let me assure all of you folks who have difficulty saying "No" to my child; she's one of four kids. She's heard "No" plenty of times. And as the mother of those four children, I have no sympathy or patience for someone who can't shoe their barking dog away from the door, juggle their baby and a pen at the same time, or just be honest about the fact that Girl Scout cookies are overpriced, not that great, and who really needs to eat that crap anyway? So my answer to you, my busy neighbor, is "No, we will not come back. You will have to rely on the cookie booths and the kindness of friends and co-workers who bought cookies from their neighborhood Brownie or Junior Scout. I have no time for wishy-washyness. Be a decider or you lose!"

Fast forward to the time when those much anticipated cookies arrive, and everyone is gleeful at the prospect of consuming cookies that rival gold in their monetary value. I go to the Cookie Mom's home, and load my mini-van with boxes of Thin Mints, Do-Si-Do's, Samoas, and whatever new, sugar-carb-fat free cookie that is being tested this year. (Last year's "special diet" cookie is but a dust collector in the bowels of my pantry, unloved and unclaimed by last year's customers.) The slow delivery process begins, creeping in my van through the neighborhood, parking on each street, trotting from house to house with boxes of cookies and that baby-poop brown money envelope, which hopefully won't be stolen from us by some Girl Scout-stalking neighborhood bandit. Trying to time our delivery when the customers are home is always a challenge. It's easy to walk away from an empty house that you're selling the cookies to. You're not losing anything if nobody is home. Trying to deliver the cookies to the empty house is impossible, and multiple trips back are always necessary. More frustrating, however, is the encounter of the customer with amnesia. This person is more loathsome than the Indecisive- Pushover- Who- Doesn't- Want-Cookies- But- Can't- Say- No- To- A-Child. This person, who shall be named No-Short-Term-Memory-Cookie-Person *finally* comes to the door, looking tired and indisposed, (at 6pm?) announcing when presented with his or her Sugar Free Chocolate Cookies and Thin Mints, "I didn't buy any cookies!" Really? I show them their name. "Is this you? Is this your address?" I ask. "Well, yes," they reply, "but I have no money." To which I snarl, "We take checks.". They aren't happy, and I'm not happy. But we get the money. Which is better than the people who see us coming on delivery night, but don't answer the door. I will not name this person here, but I have plenty of names floating around in my head that apply nicely to him/her. He/She is the reason I have two boxes of vile Cafe Cookies collecting dust in my pantry. They didn't answer the door last year and I had to pay for their cookies, among many others. Parents of Girl Scouts assume financial responsibility for those cookies when we sign that tiny little form. If the dog eats them, we pay. If the cat pees on them, we pay. If some jack-ass can't be troubled to turn off the T.V. and come to the door on delivery night, we pay. Why not go back to these houses? Well, we do. I think, though, that between the time of the fevered intoxication of ordering the cookies and anticipating their sugary goodness and the time of having to part with money for something that they could get for a fraction of the price at Farm Fresh, the magic sort of wears off, and people are just *gone* until they stop seeing cute little girls shivering in their green vests running up and down the sidewalks, dropping boxes of cookies. They have no Girl Scout cookies. But I will. I will either sell them to someone else, or purchase them for my family. There are six of us. One box of those things lasts about 8 minutes in my house. If I'm lucky, each family member will get a few of their favorite cookies, and maybe I'll only be out $60.00 or so.

Why do I participate in the cookie sale? So my kid can experience the ritual of selling Girl Scout cookies. It's fun for her, and even though I would rather have a root canal, I love seeing her happy. It also raises money for her troop, so they can go and do fun, enriching things. In a year or two, she'll groan at cookie time; it won't be "cool" anymore, "I'm not little and cute and nobody likes to buy from me!" and "Can't we just pay for the activities out of pocket instead of going to al this trouble?" And I'll know that she's very wise and she's growing up, and her interests are evolving, and it's a bittersweet milestone. I'll do it all over again with my 5 year old, as I've done with the three daughters before her. The frustrations will be the same, but maybe by the time she's selling, we'll be in a more generous and honest neighborhood.

So to all future mothers of Girl Scouts: When your child knocks at my door, I will make a decision to buy cookies or not. (I'm a Decider!) If I buy from your daughter, I will remember having done so, and I will have money ready for you by my front door when you deliver, and I promise that if I am home, I will answer the door. Then after you leave, I will stomp on those damned cookies, burn them, and dance in their ashes.

It can be done!

2008-01-11T13:49:00.000-08:00

Last summer, my very old top loading washing machine died. Now, this was a hysteria inducing event in my life due to the fact that 1. I have four children and numerous pets, and 2. We were leaving the next day on a five day trip to Tennessee to visit relatives. Of course, there was a pile of dirty laundry in my basement the size of Mt. Rushmore, and of course, it was all clothing that I needed to take on our "vacation". So John go down to the business of getting me a new one. We had admired the front loading washers for awhile because of their water efficiency. I wasn't sure that I wanted one, however, because I had read conflicting opinions as to whether or not one can felt knitted items in a front loader. Thrift and enviromental concern won out over craftiness and John brought home a front loading washer. It's worked out quite well, doesn't use much water, and my clothes are very clean. (We have had to replace a door gasket already to the tune of $150.00, and it was my own fault, but that's a story for another day...) So I had resigned myself to a life of felting hand knitted items in my sink with hot water and a potato masher. It's not an easy task! Last night I tried to felt a large pair of knitted slippers this way. It's time consuming, exhausting, and boring, even *with* a t.v. in my kitchen to distract me. I was getting nowhere fast, so I took the whole business downstairs and into the washer it went. The washer swished the slippers, plus a a towel and some jeans for friction, back and forth. After about 10 minutes, I checked my project. They were felting, not as quickly as they would have in my top loader (rest its soul) but they *were* felting without the use of a big pot and a potato masher! So in about an hour, they went from this:

To this:

Yay! And they fit! They looked enormous, but after a little shaping and drying, they fit Gwyneth almost perfectly. I'm now ready to felt everything I can get my hands on.

The next Iron Chef?

2008-01-09T16:35:00.000-08:00

Ione had to do a report on women in religion for her women's history class. She chose Wicca, and to spice things up, had to prepare a food that represented the religion to share with her class. With minimal help (other than me running to the store for most of the ingredients since my cupboard is nearly bare!) she baked this lovely Brigid Bread, which is served on Imbolc. I don't think I've ever baked anything this beautiful, and I've been baking a long time!