It Will Be An Interesting Day....

Today is the first day of Master Gardener training. Add in that somehow I tweaked my right hand playing with the wood yesterday and the middle, ring and pinky fingers are pretty much useless. On the good side, today will be going over scheduling, volunteering, the online portion of the course, etc., so, other than some writing (which, surprisingly, doesn't seem to hurt), that should work out fine.

Not much sleep last night due to an upset stomach, I had the aforementioned wrong yarn show up so my choices for knitting to take along today were a bit limited (Well, hellloooooo there, Mochaberry!), and the dreaded house-rabbit made an escape from his X-pen sometime overnight. That one was my fault: I was tired and forgot to affix the latches on the gate. Little Houdini, Jr., 4.7 lbs of black, lionhead/Jersey Wooly fluff, has discovered that if he grabs the gate and works it violently back and forth, he can get it open. He looked both proud and defiant this morning--Edward G. Robinson with rock-star hair.

Please forgive any typos; much of this was typed one-handed while the other hand pet the affectionate and yet thoroughly unrepentant rabbit. Pets having been finished, the noble Count of Rabbit Cristo has retired to his litter box. Like many men, he does his best thinking there and is even yet plotting how to get around the latches next time. Time to finish casting on the sock I want to take today...

Little Bunny FooFoo, Come Home!

I am sad panda. This has not been a good day. It started far too early for one thing. The spousal unit's job required him to get up at 1:30am, which meant I got up, too. That's just how we roll around here. Anyway, a way too early start to the day.

Mike got home about 1pm (which was a nice thing) and I figured he'd be pretty pooped out. Wrong--he'd gotten his second wind and what better project than hauling big ol' chunks of downed tree out of the woods for next years firewood. After loading up the pickup, unloading the pickup and acquiring a lightly sprained wrist and a back-ache in the process, we called it a day. Shortly after getting back in the house, the Paranoid Mail Lady arrived. Now, we live out in the boonies. We have several different mail deliverers each week on our rural route. There's the Nice Mail Lady, there's Bored Mail Man and there's Paranoid Mail Lady. PML (for short) doesn't like going up to people's doors. She pulls into the driveway, stops long enough to leap from her vehicle, deposit the package in our carport (even going near the front door is just too much) and then peels on outta here. Luckily, I usually hear her car come crunching up the gravel, but I've never been quick enough to actually talk to her. By the time I make the front door, she's already flying up the driveway. Maybe if I left her a few cookies, I could slowly coax her closer to the door....

Anyway, PML arrived which meant there was a package. This one turned out to be from Blue Moon Fiber Arts--one of the best sock yarn places in the world. I brought it inside and left it unopened for a while, figuring I'd leave it until a little later; you know, kind of savor the moment. There were a couple of different yarns in there, but the one I was really looking forward to was "Little Bunny FooFoo". It had been "resting" and not available. Terrific looking socks kept showing up on Ravelry made from it and I've been lusting after it for a while. Now, it was back and in spite of having just dropped a chunk of change to join the BMFA Rockin' Sock Club, I was excited to finally get to order some. Four skeins, my friends, four skeins were going to be mine. All mine.

I finally got around to opening up the package. Who am I kidding? It was allowed to sit for less than an hour before I had the box ripped open. There was Mochaberry, every bit as beautiful as it looked online. There was "Knitters Without Borders", also very cool. But the baggie with LBFF looked...odd. It looked salmon!!! No offense to anyone who's fond of salmon as a color (I really do like it in the fish), but it isn't anything I would have knowingly chosen. I figured the color on my Apple was out of whack, although Mochaberry looked the same. Maybe it was a bad picture or the lighting was strange. Then I looked at it a little more closely.....I didn't have "Little Bunny FooFoo", just "FooFoo", an entirely different color. I checked my online confirmation--no, I'd put down the right one. The invoice with the order confirmed that it should have been LBFF. Whoopsy!

So, sad panda. I know BMFA will fix things. I've already sent them an email and am waiting back to verify where I need to send little Salmon McSalmonpants back to. And I know that LBFF will eventually be mine. It's just been a long day.......

Well, I'm Baaaaa-aaaaack

A very long delay in blogging. It's a long story, but it might help a bit to lay it out here.

My Dad was a life-long smoker. He started when he was 15-16 and finally quit when he was in his 60's, with a few, occasional lapses. Because of smoking, he developed COPD. It was diagnosed when he had a bit of a "problem". Dad caught the flu; normally, not a big deal. He went to the doctor who gave him some antibiotics because the flu led to walking pneumonia. So far, so good. My Mom walked into the living room, handed him his pills and a glass of water and went back into the kitchen. When she came back into the living room, she found Dad still sitting there with pills and water glass still in hand. She asked him, "Aren't you going to take those?" and when she only got a blank look in response, called 9-1-1.

On the way to the hospital, Dad's heart stopped twice. Both time, defrib brought him back. After a longish hospital stay, he was diagnosed with COPD and home he went. They also found a slightly faulty heart valve, but didn't do anything at the time and referred him to a heart specialist.

Fast forward to 2000. Mom dies from an abdominal aortic aneurism (AAA). Not a good time. Dad's heartbroken, but picks himself up slowly and carries on.

Fast forward to September 2009. Dad needs an angioplasty for atherosclerosis. It's supposed to be a quickie. Day surgery with, possibly, an overnight stay. So, Dad and I go to the hospital. All goes well, the surgeon is a very happy camper with the procedure and Dad's looking good. I go back and am talking with him in the recovery room and he "crashes". His carbon dioxide levels spike through the roof.

To make a long post somewhat shorter, Dad's in the hospital. Dad's home and I'm staying with him. Back to the hospital. Back home with me staying and visiting nurses. Back to the hospital. This time, that leaky valve, the one they were "waiting for the right time" needs to be replaced. Back into surgery. Dad comes out of it okay, but they can't get him off the respirator. He winds up at a respiratory center where they work on getting him off of it but they can't. Toxins build up in his tissues causing subcutaneous bleeding and his body slowly poisons itself. My brothers and I get the lovely decision to pull the plug. Dad dies February 17th, 2009.

My Dad was the greatest guy I've ever known. He taught me how to sing Roger Miller songs, taught me how to shingle a roof, use an axe and change a tire. He was a life-long railroader and I learned about trains from him. Ships, too, since he loved the age of sail. He was a special guy that I would've liked a lot more time with. Cigarettes took that from me. Smoking stole my Dad from me. If you want to smoke, go ahead. I certainly can't stop you. But if you have kids, a spouse, anyone on the face of this planet that cares about you, remember this: you stand an excellent chance of making them make the same decision my brothers and I did. If you want to end your days hooked up to a ventilator, with your limbs blackening from trapped blood, your mind not working and your brain in a foggy haze--terrific. Just remember that that's the final picture your loved ones will have of you.

My time since then has been spent dealing with estate things, having to sell the house all of us kids grew up in and dealing with things here at home that took a backseat during a bad time. My husband, Mike, is the best. He was supportive, loving and didn't mind sharing his wife with his dad-in-law when Dad needed me around. I couldn't ask for a better man or a better husband to share my life with. And that is the long story of why I haven't blogged in a long while.

Rampant Tidiness

I am not a tidy, well-organized person. Never have been, never will be. Sure, I know where things are--if you asked me for a book I own, I could pop downstairs and find it in 30 seconds in one of the approximately thirty-eleven stacks of books still awaiting sortage and storage on a shelf. Tidy, however, I am not.

This isn't totally true. I do have one bit of organization in my life. I treasure it since it is the only organized thing in my life. Here it is.












"Ha!" you're saying to yourself. "It's just a pencil case." That, my friends, is where you're mistaken. It is my own personal monument to neatness. It is, prepare yourselves, my knitting bag. No, not that one; not the one that carries a project. It's the other one, the one that holds all those little things you can't do without. See?












All my little knitting necessities neatly bundled away where I always know where they are when I need them. Here's what-all's inside:












On the left, starting at the top and working from right to left, we have:
A tape measure.
Packets of stitch markers.
A small baggie containing coil-less safety pins.
A small baggie containing point protectors and stitch holders.
Bits of scrap yarn for use as stitch markers in case I run out or in case the markers I have are too big/too small for the job.
A length of crochet cotton for use as a lifeline/stitch holder/frogging aid (sometimes it's a lot easier to pick up the stitches with a needle and the cotton than trying to pick them up with a knitting needle and dropping stitches all over.).
A Chibi containing two Chibi's worth of needles. No, it isn't the pink one. Sorry, I'm not part of the in-crowd/cool group. Somehow I've managed to survive that. It was purchased relatively recently when I misplaced my former tapestry needle that had belonged to my Grandmother. It was way older than the Chibi people and, probably, anyone who will ever read this blog and, therefore, far cooler than any piffly pink Chibi. I've heard there are bidding wars on Ebay over pink Chibis. All I can say to those involved is, "get a grip, people."

On the right side, we have:
A book of small and smaller Post-It notes.
A pair of small, sharp scissors.
A small baggie containing various small-sized crochet hooks.
A baggie containing my set of Brittany Birch cable needles.
One DPN for aiding in picking up frogged stitches.
3"x5" note cards and some larger Post-It notes for, um, notes.
Two needle gauges. I'm not sure why I carry two except that I have two and this way I always know where they both are.
One ballpoint pen (which seems to have wandered out of shot), for writing on the aforesaid cards/Post-Its.

I love this case. It'll be my only defense if the Neat and Tidy Police ever show up at my door wanting to charge me with Slobbery in the First Degree.

Stash Enhancement Part 2

You didn't really think that was all, did you?

I also bought a niddy-noddy from Webs along with the Shetland. It's an Ashford one (to match my wheel) and needs to be sanded and finished. A good job for sitting out on the porch in the sun, I think.

Next is...well, next is a rant. It's been more than a few years since I ordered anything from Amazon. I'd rather buy from an independent bookstore when I can and it usually winds up being Powells. I love me some Powells Books. I want to live in that Portland bookstore. I don't take up much space; just let me move in a bed and a microwave and I'll help tidy up the shelves at night. In this case, however, I was trying to keep costs down since I was buying things with money my Dad gave me for my birthday. Trying to get the most bang for my buck, as it were. Amazon had my book cheaper? Well, I'd bite the bullet and buy it. The book in question, by the by, is "Spinning Wheels & Accessories." It's not really something I'd look to find on the corner bookstore shelf. So, on my birthday, I grit my teeth and place my order. Done.

The ordering part was/is done. The waiting is far from being done. When I first ordered the book, it showed as "in stock, ready to ship." The next day, it was showing as "ships in two to three weeks"! Over the past 11 days, the order status seems to be alternating between, "item has not yet shipped" (Yes! I know!!!) and, "item getting ready to ship". Currently, we're back to "item has not yet shipped." Why the switch back and forth between the two, I have no idea. Do they rope the poor thing, start dragging it toward the box and it escapes? Convince it with gentle words to go through with it and it develops cold feet? I don't know, but I do know this. If, in a couple of days, it's still showing as "item has not yet shipped," they are going to be receiving a cancellation from me. I'll take the hit on the price if it means I can actually get the #(#&@ book sometime in the near future. And I really appreciate their total lack of communication with the customer--there doesn't appear to be any way of contacting them via their webpage.

Contrast this with my last bit of stash enhancement--"Prehistoric Textiles." I placed the order for a used copy from ABE yesterday morning. An hour and a half later, the store that actually has it has emailed back that they received my order and that it had been mailed. Hmmmm...small, independent bookseller? Quick communication and shipping the same day the order was received. Big, mega-bookseller Amazon? Order placed 11 days ago, can't decide if it's in-stock or not nor whether it just hasn't been shipped or if it's getting ready to ship and "don't call us, we won't call you, either." And people tell me how "convenient" Amazon is.....

Edited to add: And the status has now changed back to "Item shipping soon". Either the Amazon spies are out and about and discovered my own personal little backwater and they actually care about customer opinions (hah!) or they're just messing with me. Or both.

Stash Enhancement

Some people would think that being down from surgery means no stash enhancement. Au contraire, mon ami. The Internet exists for just such an occasion, my friend. And the Internet and I have been very, very close this past week.

First up, two books. "Spin, Span, Spun: Fact and Folklore for Spinners and Weavers" by Bette Hochberg was the first one. A great little book (well, more like a pamphlet) full of little trivia bits about spinning and weaving--mostly spinning, though. Perfect for coming home still somewhat whacked out from surgery and pain meds. The second was, "Cheaper than Therapy: Joy, Healing & Life Lessons in Fiber" edited by Annie Modesitt. This one....I dunno. I've got all the "Knit Lit" books and love 'em to death. I was sort of hoping for the same sort of feeling, but it just wasn't there. Maybe I should have been tipped off by Annie Modesitt editing it; I have, "Cofessions of a Knitting Heretic" and I didn't care for it, either. Not to piss off all of her fans (and she has many), there's just something about her style that doesn't do anything for me. And I really, really doubt she's going to lose much sleep over that. ;)

Then there was this:












Webs, you got me again. This was part of their $15 cone sale. Each of these puppies is 2.2 lbs. (yes, metric folks, a whole kilo) of Shetland yarn. It's described as 2/8, so I was figuring on about a fingering weight. Instead, it's more like a laceweight which is ever-so-good as far as I'm concerned. If it figures as a 2/8, there should be around 4,000 meters per cone here. That ought to knit a shawl or twelve! The colors didn't show up very well, but the one on the left is Lovat blue and the one on the right is grey-blue. Now...to start digging through "A Gathering of Lace", every Elizabeth Zimmerman book I own and any other books I have with lace patterns.....

You really have to read...

The Panopticon blog. In all my knitting blog reading, I have no idea how I missed Franklin's blog, but I managed it. Having found it, I'm now a total Franklin addict. I started reading it last night and it was the first thing I returned to this morning. If you haven't discovered the wonder that is Franklin, go read it now. I can wait. If you already are a Franklin reader, well, why don't you people tell me these things?!??

The link's over to your right. Go. Now. I'll wait.