Blowin' Off the Dust

It's been a long time, old friend.  Let's catch up.  

Honestly, I don't know why I stopped writing.  Like any good relationship you have to put in work.  I suppose I just became lazy and stopped trying.  I stopped trying in many aspects of my life.  It's time to change that, and this is the first step.  It's going to be a journey.  There will be days without movement, but you know, baby step and all.

So, the kidlets are now young adults.  All of them are still here.  Not one can afford to move out with this economy. Plus, we've added one.  The Weasel's girlfriend has moved in with us.  It's a long story.  Years ago I would never have imagined having a kidlet's significant other living with us, but we are a different generation from my parents.  

The Husband has retired and gone back to work.  He's a published author, with another book on the way.  He's not making Stephen King money, but it's a nice extra check.  The Girl has her master's degree in occupational therapy and is making good bank, but she's living here in order to pay down her student loans.  Thing 1 annouced years ago, when he was 8 I think, that he was never moving out and would take up residence in the basement.  That's were he is most days.  Thing 2 is working at a vet's office and loves it.

I have gone back to work.  I work at the local high school as an aide in one of the multi-disability classrooms, and I love it.  I love these kiddo's so much, I would rather work with these kids than the typical teenage high schooler with all the drama.

This is supposed to be a knitting blog, but other than a few biggies, does anyone read them anymore?

Guess I'll find out.

How you doin'

I have turned into my mother. My mom was a stay at home mom. I knew it was inevitable that I would be one the minute I was downsized 16 years ago, and the Husband and I decided that no one would hire a 6 months pregnant lady only to train her and have her take maternity leave 3 months later. Never mind the fact that I would probably only make enough to cover day care for two kids.

Sixteen years and a pair of twins later, that is how I ended up chaperoning a marching band trip to NYC for the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. This parade has pretty much taken over since July, often in very subtle ways. It has been lurking in the shadows since it was announced the band was marching with the occasional fund raisers, but it really made it's presence known when band camp started; and I volunteered to be the official band photographer. (That's my Teva tan from camp down below.)

It has even taken over my iFruit. Oh yeah, those are last year's unis. They have brand new ones for this year. (More fundraisers)

So in addition to all of the things I need to think about, gather, and buy for me, the Boy and Girl who are marching, the most important of all is the knitting! I must have new sweaters for this trip. I can't let the 300 kids and other chaperones see me in the same sweater twice, right? I don't care if I wear the same jeans all week, but I have to switch out the sweaters. Besides, I can't let the other knitter band moms show me up!

As an aside, we have an unofficial Thursday night knit night at marching band practice. Last evening two moms each took an end of a Dr. Who scarf and started weaving in ends with the goal of meeting in the middle. I don't really get to participate, because I'm usually on the field taking photos.

Back on track, I decided that I could knit two sweaters and a pair of flip top mittens before we leave the end of November. It's doable, right? Yeah, not if this is all you have completed of sweater number one.

That is a crappy iFruit photo of the beginnings of the February Lady Sweater. I am forever the optimist. I know I'll have two great new sweaters, and I'll be gleefully walking the streets of NYC just like Mary Tyler Moore did on the streets of Minneapolis; but I will NOT throw my hat.

 

I've Grown Accustomed to His Face

Sweet Willy will be leaving us in about three weeks. He has lived with us since late February. He looked like this when he moved in with us.

 

 

In three weeks, he will be returning to learn how to be a service dog to a child with autism or epilepsy. I have grown attached even though I swore to myself I wouldn't. He is so sweet and soft. He often makes me laugh. I have had great fun taking you to restaurants, meetings, stores, nursing homes, and high school band concerts. Even when I had to apologize for your behavior (you know what you did). I have to keep telling myself that he is meant for a greater purpose than making me smile.

Godspeed, Willy!

 

Wow

It's been months! The Husband pointed out that I had not blogged in some time. So I thought about this and came to the conclusion that I really didn't have anything to say. How sad. It would take all of my writing power to come up with a way to make laundry and the supervision of having a new deck built worth reading about. It's funny how life gets in the way of living. We get so caught up in the daily work of life that we don't have the time to live. There is always some life chore that takes precedence.

I find that it becomes more and more important to sneak in little bits of living when I can, besides, it gives me blog fodder! This past Tuesday, the Husband and I travelled to Kent, Ohio to attend a concert by my favorite band Great Big Sea.

It was a four hour car ride which gave the Husband and I time to talk about something other than the deck, or the kid's upcoming band camp schedule. We actually talked about politics and what I would like to do when I grow up! It also gave me time to work on a blanket for my friend Bruce who lost his home in the Colorado wildfire that hit Colorado Springs in June.

Several of my college friends and I travelled to Corning, NY to attend the memorial service for the mother of a dear friend. It was a turbulent emotional weekend. Bruce flew home to CO on a red-eye arriving early in the morning to the fire department telling him he had about an hour to load up his car and evacuate. Later that afternoon his house was a pile of ashes, and his whole life of possessions and mementoes fit in his car.

I decided that Bruce would eventually have a sofa and he would need a blanket to nap under on a fall Sunday. The perfect choice is the Moderne Log Cabin done in manly colors, Bruce being a single gentleman. I'm still on the first square, but much further along.

Upon our arrival in Kent, we saw this oddity. I love the kitschy in America.

Yes, that is an x-wing fighter.

We stopped at the May 4th memorial at Kent State in remembrance of those 4 students who lost their lives during the anti-Vietnam demonstration.

We also had a fantastic meal at bar/restaurant.

That is smoked Gouda macaroni and cheese topped with hickory smoked pulled pork. I'm drooling again.

We then went to the concert. We had third row seats!

This will only make Great Big Sea fans jealous, but we were no less than 15 feet from the stage. The day was steamy and hot, and I don't believe the a/c was up to modern day standards. This is what the Husband and I looked like before the concert started,

and this is what I looked like at intermission!

And that, my friends, is a little bit of living.

Oo-oo That smell, Can't you smell that smell?*

Gorgeous, right? I impatiently wait all winter for the all too brief time these lovely trees in front of my typical suburban home to bloom. I gleefully drive about admiring these Bradford pear trees, and marvel at the larger specimens knowing that one day mine will be tall and glorious. I take delight in the field that is next to the community ballpark, where these grow wild by the hundreds, although many are just wee little trees.

I also love the view from my deck. Our neighbor to the back whose property abuts three yards, mine being in the middle, 12 years ago selflessly planted 13 of these beauties.

In spite of my allergies, I love this time of year. Except, Jay-Z on a cracker, those trees stink! Oh, good Lard! When I open the windows to blow out the stink, as my mother used to say, a worse stink comes in with every breeze! There's just no getting away from the rotten stench permeating the air.

As much as I love these trees, I wish they would hurry up already and show some leaves already.

*Lynard Skynard

 

My Morning View

The lovely fellow on the right is a 5 month old, 50+ pound, Golden Lab puppy, service dog in training, who thinks he is a lap dog.

Once he completes his training, he will be partnered with a child with either autism or epilepsy. He is destined for great things. I just have to keep reminding myself of that when I have to stop him from falling into the pool to retrieve a ball, or when I see him trotting about the yard with a log from the wood pile in his mouth, or when he is chewing on the chair in the restaurant, or....

The other guy? He just gets cranky with the whippersnapper.

This Never Gets Old

Have you ever had one of those moments when you accomplish or finish something that you are so proud of, that it makes you want to run out in the street and stop every person and point out to them that, yes, you are awesome? But instead you hold your bubbly joy inside?

I had that happen last week. Over a year ago I cast on Gwendolyn by Fiona Ellis. I finally finished it two weeks ago. It takes a little bit to finish a sweater if you put it down for 6 months, because your irrational crazy self has convinced your sane self it's too small, even though you were spot on with the gage. So you spend those months knitting things were size doesn't matter, like scarves and wraps and shawls, for example.

Six months later you decide to pull up your big girl pants and wet block what you have done so far in order to shut up Ms. Crazypants. And here's the best part: when you've finished all the bits of the sweater, you get to seam it!

I love that the super simple mattress stitch can make this

look like this

 

After you soak and block it, it looks even better! So much better that you will receive compliments from the nurse at the doctor's office and also the doctor (obviously a female, men as a rule don't notice such things) within minutes of each other. Resist the urge to go on and on and on about how awesome you are. The doctor might consider calling in a psychiatrist for a consult.