Too Much Fun!

We've been having some fun here, which is why there have been no blog posts for the last three weeks.

For starters, we've had a slight improvement in the weather.  We do not, for example, look like this:




We do not even look like this:



(certainly we do not look like the marauding  deer who were trying to munch on my lawn when this picture was taken)

No, indeed.  We look like this:



(a note to those of you inclined to be painfully literal:  I do not claim that we look like chickens and you should check right now to make sure that you are keeping your snarky comments to yourselves. Please pay attention instead to the blue skies, the emerald green grass, and the total absence of snow.  The very fact that the chickens were out of the coop proves that the day was so beautiful that we knew we would be outside all afternoon and would not have to worry as much about the fox making off with the birds)

And we looked like this:


spiraling clockwise from bottom left:  happy kids on swing set [note the total absence of leaves on trees, it was late March]; happy kid on swing; happy kids near swing; free range bath tub, complete with interior flora; gratuitous chicken butts; shoes that have been abandoned to allow happy kids to play barefoot; happy kid on slide; free range bath tub hiding from predators; free range chickens not hiding from predators; free range chickens hunting bugs; the "Climbing Tree," which was willing to pose for this one spectacular photo.

See how much fun we are having?  The kids played outside, I sat on my duff and did some knitting while surrounded by chickens, and El Husbando cut down many innocent sticker bushes, which is his default activity when the weather picks up.

But wait, that's not all!!  I joined a really fun yarn swap.  It's a lot like a secret Santa thing, only with yarn and without the trees and tinsel.  Everyone answered a few important questions and off we went.  My Swapee said that she liked deep rich colors, a variety of candies, bath stuff, and fabric.  The original thought behind the swap was that people could paw through their stashes, find some suitable yarn, and mail it off to someone else.  This did not work well for me.  I have a bunch of yarn, but it turns out that I am emotionally attached to the good stuff, and the not so good stuff isn't really good enough to dump on someone else.  So (and please do NOT tell El Husbando about this) I bought some really nice brand new yarn.  For a woman I have never met and probably couldn't pick out of a crowd.

I bought her a few other things, too:



I actually bought two bags of these new-fangles Skittles Crazy Cores.  My kids are total Skittles hounds and I thought they might like to try them too.  They didn't last 24 hours in my house.  I totally recommend them to you, unless you are my dentist, in which case we didn't really eat that many of them and we made sure to brush really well as soon as we were done.

The fabric was easier to collect than the yarn; I still have a pretty good collection of totally random bits of quilting fabric and I no longer remember what I was thinking when I bought them, so it was a little easier to send them on their way.  Two of them stuck around long enough to become this  bag



which I filled with the goodies and mailed out to Seattle.

It was HUGE fun putting together my swap package, so much fun that I almost forgot about part two:  the incredibly fun package for me!!!

No sooner had I finished packing my Swapee's stuff into its box, which I super-sealed with plenty of tape, than the local postal employee brought me a shoebox FULL of stuff.  Heaps of yarn.  So much stuff that I dug through my stash to find some more stuff to jam into the swap package for my Swapee so I wouldn't feel like the cheapest swapper that ever lived.  The top prize in my shoebox was some yummy pink malabrigo.  I have heard people making a big fat fuss over this stuff and I really wanted to try some, but I'm too damn cheap to buy it for myself.  And now here it is. 




In addition to my fabulous new yarn, there were heaps of goodies and a sheep card.





Sophie was very suspicious.  She supervised the unpacking of the boxes and can be seen in this picture keeping an eye on the ceramic sheep.

There was one last surprise in the box:  chocolate for me to eat! bubble wrap for Matty to shred all over my office!



I was so inspired by the new yarn that I immediately knit it up into these nifty fingerless mitts (fascinating point of trivia:  these are the very mitts that I was knitting while sitting on my duff on the aforementioned beautiful sunny day).  As a bonus, they used less than half the skein, so I can knit another pair any time I feel like it. It turns out that the yarn is every bit as soft as people say and I love it. 



As if sunny days and yarny gifts were not enough, there is still more fun to be had here.  In other knitting news (and really  it all ends up being knitting related news, doesn't it?), I finished the Alhambra scarf.  The only problem is that I haven't bothered to block it yet, so it is still very crumpled looking, instead of all airy and beautiful. 





That leaves me with the three actual current knitting projects.  It was supposed to be two (sweater and socks), but I am a little fickle and was suddenly struck by the overwhelming desire to cast on for a beret.  This is a truly laughable project for me.  Like a lace shawl, which I will almost certainly knit  and almost as certainly never have the courage to wear, a beret is a hat for someone with fashion.  I have no fashion and therefore no need for a beret.  But I had exactly the right yarn for the Tweed Beret and so I am knitting it.  Here it is in its infancy: 



I promise it will get better looking.

For socks, I recently ordered this yarn from the kind folks and Dizzy Sheep:



It is an Opal hand painted sock yarn.  The colorway is called (and I apologize in advance for this) Blatterwald.  The manufacturer claims that the color was inspired by an autumn forest, but when I wound the yarn into a spiffy little yarn cake, it became clear that the yarn painter got hungry on her trip through the autumn forest and had begun to think instead of a big bag of frozen mixed vegetables.



The resemblance wears off only slightly in the knitting.  Also, there seems to be a curse on the socks and I had to take them apart--after 4 inches of knitting-- upon discovering that the sock would not fit over my heel. Bad sock!  I'm beginning to have reservations about this whole project, which might explain why I was so keen to start knitting fingerless mitts and unnecessary berets.



And finally, as if there has not been enough knitting talk, here is the first picture of my Must Have Cardigan.  Now that we are getting to spring, this is not a cardigan that I Must Have soon, which is is just as well because it is S-L-O-W going.  Instead of knitting the fronts and back separately, I have linked them together and am knitting them all at once.  So far I have knit about 5 inches.  This is in addition to the 4 inches that I knit on the back but had to unravel because I put the project down for so long that I forgot what I was doing and the other four inches that I knit on the back the first time I started the project which I also had to unravel because it was so far off gauge that I could have given the sweater to El Husbando, except for its undeniable pink-ness.  I think things are going better this time.  If not, I'll be forced to conclude that this is not a cardi that I must have after all.


Just so you don't think that it is all fun and games around here, I'll close with a picture of this week's monster laundry pile.  I have run out of socks and can no longer put this off.



Here, just for the sake of artistry, is a larger picture of the Climbing Tree.  I love this picture, so I had to put it in twice.

 

And now (this is really the end of the post, I promise) is a little reminder of why small children cannot be trusted with cameras.  They inevitably try to take pictures up their noses.

Kind of looks like some bizarre cross between a human and a owl, doesn't it?

Memo
To:  All active members of the Society for Preschool Idiosyncrasies  (SPI)
From: the Governing Board (2010) of the SPI
Re: Guide to Mystifying Food-Related Behaviors, update 3.10.10.

Please be advised that  March is National Repetitive Food Request Month.  This year's celebration will be spearheaded by the Upstate New York chapter of the SPI, although all national chapters are strongly encouraged to take part.  Several competition events have been arranged and prizes (1st place, Temporary Bath Immunity; 2d place, Tantrum Escalation Kit; 3d place, Supplemental Television Viewing) will be awarded for the members who sustain their Repetitive Food Campaign for the entire month.  Creativity is also encouraged; special prizes will be issued for members who successfully combine their RFRs with Esoteric Preparation Instructions and/or Sudden Refusals to Consume the Prepared Items.

Members are advised to develop their own original requests, but 2d Vice President Matty offers his own current activities as an example of a sustained RFR/EPI/Surprise-Now-I-Won't-Eat-It campaign which has his parents, "Mom" and "Dad"  (not their real names), completely baffled.

The chosen food item is known as "bread and butter."  It is eaten for all meals and, on bonus days, for snack as well.  Preparation requirements are photo-documented below and include:

(1) precise matching of bread pieces (brand loyalty is also required here; an attempt by "Mom" to substitute a different bread resulted in a "Surprise, Now I won't eat it" penalty)

(2) complete and consistent butter coverage




(3) thorough trimming of all breadcrusts (again, a failure to excise all traces of crust is subject to penalty, typically profuse gagging noises and ejection of partially chewed offending pieces)

(4) precision carving of the food item into certain designated shapes (penalty for failure to accurately anticipate the desired shape usually involves prolonged screaming and, occasionally, jettisoning of the food item onto the floor)



(5) bonus points are awarded for presentation of food as a smiley face; all food must be issued in the same %^^$ bowl at each meal/snack.



Participants are reminded that-- particularly where crusts have been removed in a painstaking fashion or other special accommodations to whim have been made--it is inadvisable to eat the entire food item.  Rather, an extra margin of food should be left in the bowl at each meal; variations include eating one bite from the tip of each piece and eating only half of the food served.  Remaining pieces should be smushed, licked, dunked, dropped, or otherwise mishandled in order to prevent storage of the food item for later consumption.  Be aware that overuse of this tactic may result in a sudden and unjustified refusal by the parent to serve the requested food and will result in a corresponding reduction of the participant's overall score, or, in the event of a prolonged food preparation strike, elimination from the competition.




Second VP Matty reports that his campaign has been wildly successful.  His parents, particularly "Mom," are baffled as to his food choice and unable to predict when triangles or squares will be required, but are almost fully trained to meet Matty's whims and have not yet flatly refused to serve the "bread and butter."  He noticed while shopping this week that "Mom" laid in an extra supply of the approved bread and butter, and he is now considering the implementation of a response tactic, possibly a Short Term Diversionary Food Switch with Accompanying Rejection of all "Bread and Butter" Foods.

SPI members are reminded that all communiques to and from the Governing Board are top secret and confidential.  The success of our group depends entirely on our collective ability to keep parents in a state of constant confusion, and all behavioral guidelines are, therefore, subject to change without notice. Members are referred to prior Memos outlining the most common Secrecy Preservation Tactics, including #5.09.00 "Looking Bewildered,"  #3.21.96 "Maintaining an Expression of Wide-Eyed Innocence," #4.26.38 "Proper Use of Diversion Tactics, Including Unprovoked Tantrums, Sudden Crying Pretenses, and Unexpected Vomiting and/or Illness (Emergency Use Only),"  and #2.16.21 "Effective Denial Tactics, Including Employment of Catchphrases 1 & 2 ("I dunno" and "Wasn't me"), Blame Shifting, and Engaging the Services of Invisible Friends."

Participants may report their efforts to the Upstate New York SPI "March is RFR Month" committee.   This Memo should be committed to memory and then destroyed.

Winter Blues, Chased Away

It is all my fault.  For months, I have been begging and pleading and wishing for it.  More Snow.  I firmly believe that if we are going to be stuck with cold temperatures and gray skies, we should at least have some snow to play in.  Last week I got my wish.  Not only did it snow, but we got a snow day out of it.  And then, just when I thought I was going to spend the day on some over due work and just nag my kids to go out and play, some friends drove out to keep us company, play in the snow with us, and get stuck in our driveway.  It was the perfect snow day.

The great thing about late winter snow storms is that the temperature usually isn't quite so frigid, which makes playing outside that much more enjoyable.  On Saturday morning, we let the kids fend for themselves and El Husbando and I took the dog snow-shoeing.  The dog took a pass on the actual snow shoes and for a little while, we weren't even sure we could get him to leave the property because he is so firmly trained to his Invisible Fence boundaries. In the end, we tricked him by crossing the IF line in an unusual spot and when we came home, don't you think he insisted in taking the long way back to the house so that he could cross at that same spot again?  Dogs.

On the way down to the walking trail, we passed these little beauties:  cats(tails) in hats.






El Husbando with the fraidy-dog:




Fraidy-dog getting all low on the trail:




He loves the snow and, invisible fence issues aside, he thought this was just about the best day ever.  He spent the rest of it sleeping, which made it a pretty good one in my book too.  There's really not a lot of good stuff that happens when a large dog gets cabin fever.

One way we have passed the winter days is tossing different foods into the coop and seeing what the chickens will eat.  So far, the answer has been everything.  Spinach, wilty salad, and cracked corn were not surprising; we expected them to gobble it all up and they obliged.  But, I threw (literally: it has to clear a 6 foot fence) a bunch (head? stalk group?) of celery in the other day and now there is no sign of it.  We have also learned that you can hang a head of cabbage and they will peck at it with a viciousness that is terrifying.  The first cabbage that I put in was  steadfastly ignored for a few days until they decided that it had come in peace. (In this sense, the are much bolder than my children, who still believe that cabbage is deadly). Then they hacked away at it until nothing but the core was left.  The second cabbage didn't even last 24 hours.  The only disappointment is that the birds can peck at the cabbage and tear off the leaves without making the head sway too much, even though it is suspended from a wire loop on a rope.  I was really hoping to watch some chicken volleyball.

The other surprise favorite was spaghetti.  My advice on this issue is never to let a seven year old toss spaghetti into your chicken run.  Regardless of my thorough and clear instructions as to spaghetti placement (between the nets, please), an awful lot of it ended up stranded (hahaha) on top of the netting instead of in the coop. The girls didn't seem to care.  They gobbled up the noodles that fell to the ground, and the stuff that didn't fall immediately has since vanished.  All problems relating to leftover spaghetti have now been solved, but I can't help wondering if they were disappointed that we hadn't thrown them real worms.







As if snow days and spaghetti eating chickens were not enough to take the edge off of winter, we celebrated Purim last week.  The highlight for the boys was the annual Purim Carnival. The girls and I gave it a miss this year, but we couldn't keep Matty away.  As soon as he saw the bouncy house, the throngs of small, screaming children, and the mountains of worthless plastic prizes, he became a man on a mission.  He dragged El Husbando in and was rewarded with fabulous gifts, including a yellow lei and an unidentifiable purple plastic animal with rubber spikes. Nate was the proud winner of the funny glasses, but he was very happy to share them. Certain elder children, however, were much too cool to be photographed wearing them.




And last, I really and truly did finish my knitting olympics project, the Slanting Gretel Tee. I even finished it during the real Olympics, which entitled me to cyber-medals and pdf certificates of knitting excellence. Unfortunately, my knitting skills far outstrip my compter skills, and I have not yet been able to copy my gold medal image to post on my blog.  Bummer.  But, really the prize is that I get to wear this:



The goofy bit of extra fabric in the front has settled down a little bit, and it turns out that this whole short sleeve layered sweater thing is very comfy.  I have worn the sweater twice in the week since I finished it (a thrilling tale in itself; I was weaving in ends between games in a 6th grade basketball tournament) and since the bugger is machine washable, it won't just languish on the handwash pile waiting for me to clean it up again.  Hurray for me!

Crossing the Great Divide

Sounds ominous, doesn't it?  Birth, death, menopause, what could we be talking about here?  None of these things, of course.  But we have finished February break and good riddance to it.  After a week of sickness and being in when we wanted to be out (or out when we wanted to be in, for some of us) and another break that ended just when we had rested up enough to start enjoying it, we are firmly on the flip-side of winter.  The sky was light when I walked the dog (that will last a few more weeks, until DST kicks in at its new earlier time and hurls me back into dog-walking darkness). The cold is just a little less bitter and I feel a little bit less squeezed and compressed by winter. March is just a week away and now we know we're going to make it through to spring.

I have also reached the spot on my Slanting Gretel Tee where I get to divide for the sleeves.  I have just under 50 rounds left to knit, compared to the 120 I've already been through.  You can even see the little sleeve-lets getting started.  They're the tiny little bits sticking out like ears:



I'm still not quite sure if I'll finish before the end of the Olympics; I know that it is theoretically possible, but life sometimes does get in the way of my knitting.

On Friday, when everyone was finally well enough to leave the house at the same time, we took the boys to see the dinosaur exhibit at the museum and science center.  A few years ago, they had a room full of mechanized dinos.  The moved and roared when people got close to them and they were so big they had to be brought in and taken out through the windows of the museum.  I took Nate there for his birthday and we loved it.  He kept sneaking back to the triceratops to see how close he could get before it started making noise. This time the display was much smaller and I think we were all a little disappointed.  Still, there was a designated photo spot. They even provided an X on the floor so I knew just where to stand to catch these prize winners:





Not to be outdone by fake dinos, one of the chickens laid an Egg of Unusual Size.  We dubbed it FrankenEgg and hid it in the refrigerator until we were brave enough to deal with it. 



Here it is, posing with a Perfectly Normal Egg to provide a sense of scale.



With the stresses of school and work set aside for the week, our time finally came.  We gathered around and did the unthinkable:  we cracked the giant egg.  No scary surprises inside (speculation as to the contents included predictions of dinosaurs and whole mini-chickens), just twin yolks.  We scrambled them up with a few of their friends and had a very nice lunch.



Many thanks to The Girls, shown here in a gratuitous winter pose.



I think they are looking forward to spring too, although they have at least finally learned that they can walk in the snow.

Progress Report

Welcome to February break.  So far, I don't think much of this vacation (or staycation, or playcation, or everybody get sick and barf all over the place-cation).  It started a little early for us when Nate got the stomach bug in the middle of last week and missed the last three days of school. This included the pajama party on Thursday, which he was okay about, and the Valentine's Day party on Friday, which he most certainly was not okay about.

By Friday, Matty was good and sick too, although with the raging fever/crying/must-be-attached-to-mommy-at-all-times kind of sickness.He missed his Valentine's Day party too.

By Saturday night, I was starting to suffer from a milder version of both illnesses combined (although I did not make my mommy stay with me) and by Sunday night it looked like Emma was coming down with something too, although she could just be suffering the aftershock of four basketball games in one 24 hour period.  Bleah.

I'm still not feeling all that great, but after all the rest I had on Saturday (when I chose to sit down and relax all afternoon because Matty couldn't go anywhere) and Sunday (when I had to sit down and rest because I couldn't go anywhere), I just don't think I can rest any more.  So this morning I did what anybody home on vacation with four kids and a lot of sickness would do.

I mopped. 

Don't ask me to explain this behavior.  I can't.  The floor did have a few spots on it, and I generally do prefer to relax in a clean house, since too much chaos makes me edgy.  But really the house was not in terrible shape.  A little straightening up the rooms and washing a few dishes would have done the job for me on any other day. Plus, I wasn't actually feeling great.  Plus, the floor had been mopped less than a week ago by the nice lady who comes in twice a month and does all my dirty work. So why, suddenly, was I possessed by the urge to really clean the floor? Can't explain it.  The only thing I can think of is that I must be a lot sicker than I realized.

I had helpers, though. I did the soapy water mop, and the hot water rinse mop, but they get all the credit for actually drying the mop-water off the floor.  They seemed to enjoy it a lot more than I usually do.  Now the floor feels wonderfully clean . . .

which always makes me want to pack everyone off to a hotel for few days in order to keep it that way.


Despite all the forced relaxation, I was not totally idle over the weekend.  In fact, I was knitting like a fiend on my Slanting Gretel Tee.  I cast on during the opening ceremonies, just like I was supposed to.  Saturday I started chugging along in earnest, only to suffer an equipment malfunction.  The 32" cable for my interchangeable circular needles was threatening to come apart.  No problem, I switched to my back-up cable.  In the process of working the stitches from one needle to the other, I noticed that the project was growing at an astounding rate.  The lower edge of the tee, which was supposed to be 41.5", was over 46 inches.  My gauge was off by 1/2 stitch per inch, which over 232 stitches adds up to a lot of extra inches.  I could just hear the Olympic Knitting Officials:  False start; three hour penalty! Back to the starting line, please. 

And back I went. New cast on row, new needle size. Along the way, the second cable started to come apart, and I was forced to resort to a set of bamboo fixed circulars.  They took a little getting used to, but now we're getting along just fine.  Here is a picture of them from Sunday morning, just after they rescued  Saturday's work:



Here is a cable detail from the sweater that is both difficult to see and unrepresentative of the yarn colors:



I wish I didn't like it better than the real yarn color.

And here is the photo from today, showing (to the careful observer):
(1) that I have about 5 inches of sweater knit;
(2) that I am nearly 25% of the way through my yarn (I started with 4 yarn cakes, and I'm down to three plus the little knobbly bit on the end of the needle; fortunately, I am also nearly 25% of the way through the sweater);
(3) that my floor is in fact shiny clean after all my mopping; and
(4) that I can still make a smiley face out of anything.



Others were also engaged in artistic pursuits over the weekend.  We bought new watercolors, oil pastels, and water color pencils on Sunday, and I was rewarded with a great deal of fabulous artwork. 



Isabel has a thing for trees and mountains, while Emma is exploring sunsets, skies, and green grass.  I love them all; they just brighten my day.

When I uploaded the pictures from my camera, I found a few gems from Matty's birthday.  The girls decided to make him a cape and a crown.  Due to a small measurement oversight, combined with a failure to account for the effect of stuffing the crown (don't ask), the crown came out a little small, but Matty doesn't seem to mind.  I think he was pleased that we were all finally willing to recognize his rightful place in our family.  He promises to be a benevolent tyrant.




Due to a candle shortage, we had to put the number 5 on his pink cake (yes, his choice) instead of the number 4, which is more typically used to describe people of his age.  We are a forward thinking people and like to look at it as "one to grow on."




On my camera, I also found a solid photographic evidence that it is not necessarily a good thing for my children to have unfettered access to my camera.



Collage 1: clockwise from upper left:  Violin on Desk;  Carpet Sample; Dog Looking Backwards; Laptop on Desk; Random View Out Window;  Laundry; Hair.  Center: Mouse on Mousepad.




Collage 2: clockwise from upper left:  Chessboard on Floor with Body Parts; Chessboard on Floor, angled view; Chessboard on Floor, view from above; Chessboard on Floor, view from above, detail showing unusual configuration of pieces; Chessboard on Floor, side view showing unusual configuration of pieces; Chessboard on Floor, blurry view; Chessboard on Floor without body parts.

I think I'll encourage them to stick to painting.

Totally Unrelated

Here is this week's milestone, in pictures:

Look Mommy, I got myself dressed. 




I even tucked in my shirt!




And, for something completely arbitrary, here is an example of what happens to my kids' meals if they leave them unguarded for too long:



(Kosher hot, Boca meatless chicken nuggets, and crinkle fries, all pleasingly arranged on a handwoven placemat.  Presentation is everything.)

Games-mania and List-mania collide with a BANG

I.  In which I am Rudely Accosted and Publicly Shamed by a Non-Believer
True story:  I may have mentioned (fifty or sixty times) that I take my grocery shopping very seriously.  If it were an Olympic sport, I would be the captain of the U.S. team and people from my home town would line up to watch me train at the local grocery store.  Just like any serious athlete has a game plan, I have a Shopping List.  I can't imagine walking into the store without one, mostly because  I can't be trusted to behave in a store that size.  The List keeps me in check.  Just like Mrs. Googins (yes, real name, and didn't we have tons of fun with that in school?) taught us in Home Ec., I plan out the week's menu in advance.  I make sure I list any missing dinner ingredients,  I survey the pantry to see what staples might need replenishing.  I interrogate family members to find out what they've used up during the week. To streamline the process, I have even made a master list that can be printed from my computer, complete with a nice little box for recording the week's menu and some spiffy check-boxes next to all the most frequently shopped-for staples.

Apparently, this is not universal behavior.

I have always been a little worried about people seeing my list while I'm shopping.  Not in a please-stop-copying-my-paper-you-big-fat-cheater sense, but in a please-stop-staring-at-me-you're-making-me-nervous sense.  I already know that it takes a "special" kind of person to truly appreciate the importance of The List, but mostly I've been able to rely on the discretion of other shoppers.  Some are intimidated and I can see them slinking off to another aisle, but we both pretend we don't know what's going on.  Some clearly think I've gotten painfully a little uptight, but they are polite enough not to mention it to me.  So after 15 years of living within the guidelines of the Shoppers' Code of Peace and Tolerance, imagine my shock when some first-class doofus man wandered over to me in the produce section last month and shouted "You use a LIST??? I didn't think anyone used a LIST!! Bwahahahahaha!"

And now I have List Anxiety.

II.  In which I Prepare for the Knitting Olympics

Fortunately for all concerned, grocery shopping is not an Olympic event.  It's not even a demo sport,  and the proud citizens of the U.S. do not need to fret over whether my List Anxiety will cause me to choke at a key moment and bring everlasting shame to the U.S. Olympic Shopping Team.

Instead, some wild and crazy knitters have created a parallel universe in which there is an entire knitting olympics.  There are teams, events, winners, etc. etc.  The idea is to pick a project (or two, or ten) that would in some way be a challenge for you to complete between the opening ceremonies and the dousing of the olympic flame. 

I'm in.  I decided a while ago that I would take part in this little bit of knitting craziness.  In order to get ready ("train"), I cleaned house.  Not in the literal sense, which would have been an almost complete waste of time, but in the knitting sense.  I started off the year with five outstanding (i.e., not done, as opposed to really spectacular) projects, not counting my pink sweater which is in a lengthy time out due to some gauge control issues.

In no rational order, we have a sweater for Nate:



a hat for El Husbando:



socks for my mother:



and mittens for me:




Now, just one day before the Olympics are due to start, I have one project left to finish:

 

A gift scarf.  But it will have to wait until after the Olympics.

As part of this Total Project Smackdown, I inventoried.  What really happened was that I ordered some impulse yarn and suddenly began to feel like the entire knitting/spinning thing was getting out of hand.  This was particularly true of my sock yarn.  So I made (wait for it . . .) a list.  The list is divided by the nature of the project (knitting, spinning, quilting) and subdivided as necessary (sock knitting, sweater knitting, random knitting).  I came up with some project ideas for most of the yarns that I have, just so I could feel like I have a little direction in life. I even inventoried my handspun, on the theory that I should actually make something with all that yarn.  Here it is, after being artfully arranged by my younger daughter, whose artistic sense was offended by the way I just randomly tossed the yarn onto the bed.




To really make the list exciting, I assigned every item a number.  The theory is that when I am in need of a new project, I will pick a category (e.g., socks), generate a number (you know, roll dice) and pick that project off the list.

Please stop laughing now.

This is an excellent theory, and I stand behind the idea just as much as I used to stand behind my Shopping List until someone laughed at me in public.  Anyway, now that I am completely organized and have finished most of my lingering projects, I am as ready as I'm going to be for the Olympics, both knitting and winter. Tomorrow night I will cast on for my Slanting Gretel Tee and then I will knit like a madwoman until (a) the sweater is finished, (b) the torch is extinguished, or (c) I perish from a knitting related repetitive stress injury.

Let the games begin.

In which we celebrate an excellent holiday and win fabulous prizes

Part I:  We Start the Day in an Unusual Manner

Saturday was International Ice Cream for Breakfast Day (IICBD, for those in the know).  I only tell you this because it seems that not enough people are aware of this wondrous day.  I found out about it on Friday and can now clearly identify what was wrong with the last 40 Februaries. The fact that the holiday was kept secret from me for so long is astounding.  The holiday actually originated in my hometown before I was born.  How is it that the holiday has made its way to entirely different countries, but I had to find out about it from a blog by someone who doesn't even live in Rochester? No one even showed me the clip about it that appeared in the local paper last week.  It's almost as if the world thought I couldn't be trusted with this information.  Very Suspicious.  But all to no avail.  I have found out and I wasted no time in preparing.  I bought a tub of ice cream and my kids enjoyed waffles a la mode for breakfast.



But that's not all.  We don't do things half-way here, and it was clear that something that was so good the first time around could only improve with repetition.  So we also had ice cream with lunch.  And some of us may have had ice cream for afternoon snack.  Or as an appetizer before dinner.  Fortunately, on IICBD,  Ross's Second Kit-Kat Principle* is temporarily suspended and the ice cream is just as good the second (or third or fourth, as individually appropriate) time as it is the first.  Particularly if you start adding chocolate syrup.

You might think that any day beginning with ice cream would reach its peak pretty early, but apparently the Laws of Conservation of Happiness  (LCH)** are also suspended on IICBD, leading to . . .

Part II: We Have a Winning Day

We like to win; it's better than losing. We have tried both and are pretty confident in our opinions.  But we understand that we can't win EVERYTHING.  That would be thoroughly unreasonable and, applying the LCH (see below) might even require that we experience some disappointment in order to restore balance to the universe.  This is especially true of any event involving a raffle.  I won a prize once when I was in high school, and never won another raffle prize until my 40th birthday, when I won three prizes in the same raffle. So when I bought my kids tickets for the nursery school raffle yesterday, I was careful to remind them that we might not win anything.

Ha!  People who eat ice cream for breakfast are exempt from raffle disappointment.

Take a look:



A basket of bath goodies!



A basket of candle goodies!!



A basket of dog goodies!!!



A toy excavator!   (Oh goody!)

Does it get any better than this?? Four raffle prizes.  FOUR RAFFLE PRIZES!!!!!!!

But wait, there's more!

Sixth grade basketball game?  We won.

High school hockey game?  We won.

Clearly we are on the verge of exceeding our happiness quota.  In order to bring us back into harmony, I spent the morning in Sunday School with my daughter, evaluating my beliefs about life's major issues with the help of a pile of sixth graders.  I spent the early afternoon in a nursery school budget meeting and the later part of the afternoon trying to figure out some video editing software that was much too complicated for me.  I also complained loudly about the state of my house (can't anybody put their dishes IN the dishwasher? And are socks really too heavy to be carried all the way to the laundry room?).  I feel I have done my part to restore some balance to my world.  Just to make sure, I will go back to work tomorrow and spend the day analyzing the law of government tort liability while my four year old  climbs up my office chair and demands marshmallows for breakfast.  When I  feel harmony has been restored, I will be ready to reveal my plans for . . .

Part III: I Train for the Knitting Olympics.

(pictures and story to follow!)

*Ross's Second Kit-Kat Principle (RSKKP, again for those in the know) states that, regardless of how good the first Kit Kat is, the second can never be equally good (stated mathematically as KK1 > KK2>KK3).  The principle is universally applicable to all candies larger than the "Fun-Size." Various corollaries address the extent of Kit-Kat Enjoyment Decline (KKED) based on such variables as individual hunger, proximity to dinner, and whether the subsequent candy bar was either the last in the house or was taken (by force, trickery, or outright theft) from a sibling.  The study of the effect of Halloween on the principle is a relatively recent development.  Certainly, the reason for the suspension of RSKKP on IICBD is worthy of future attention.

**Basically, the idea is that there is only so much happiness to go around, which makes a spectacularly successful day a statistical rarity.  One branch of this study actually goes so far as to suggest that any unusually large dose of happiness will be offset at some point by  Joy Cancelling Events until balance is again achieved.  The same laws explain why it is not possible for all members of any self-contained group of people (members of the same household, staff, team, government, etc.) to be happy at the same moment.  Certain poorly understood multiplier effects come into play for events involving a great deal of preparation or inordinately high expectations, such as Thanksgiving or large family reunions.

In which we honor an exemplary vegetable and reap fabulous personal benefits

Today is National Carrot Day.

I kid you not.

If you don't believe me, then feast your eyes on this incontrovertible photographic evidence:



See this guy?  He is clearly celebrating National Carrot Day, and doesn't he look delighted?  


(An aside: I visited this display in person and saw dozens of bottles of what purported to be carrot juice stuffed in the ice.  Nonetheless, I am having a hard time accepting the claim that anyone squeezed a bunch of carrots and ended up with juice.) 




Here is more proof:



Ha!  I  told you so.

And if that is not enough, then here are some singing carrots who will certainly change the way you view the world.



We are, of course, long-time supporters of the carrot.  We eat many of them and are tolerant of a wide variety of carrot forms.  Tall, short, fat, thin, dirty, clean, cooked, raw, plain or with dip.  We are equal opportunity carrot lovers. We have even planted them, although the local bunnies (hooligans, down to the very last fluffy cotton-tail!) seemed to benefit more than we did.  Long have we extolled the carrot's many virtues as a healthy food. But never, until today, were we fully aware of the power of the carrot to sustain and strengthen us.

Today was one of those days that had tremendous potential for disaster.  Absolutely fraught with peril.  Much better to stay in bed and hide under the covers than to venture forth and try to conquer such a schedule. It is, of course, a Wednesday.  Wednesday means grocery shopping and grocery shopping means that the children have been asking for two days whether I have gone to the store yet.  Apparently, as soon as the chips run out, they think we have reached the Food Crisis Point and are in imminent danger of starvation. As I have mentioned before, I firmly believe that grocery shopping should be treated like a polar expedition.  Or a military campaign. Or a presidential campaign.  Plan carefully, execute faithfully.  Any unnecessary improvisation or variation is to be avoided as it will result in frozen explorers, politically suicidal remarks, or an improper snack/staple balance (too many marshmallows, not enough milk). Timing is also key. There is a tiny window of time between the end of preschool and the time that buses start dropping big kids off, just barely enough to get the shopping done.  One false step into a different store, one extended conversation with a friend you found in aisle 5, and you'll come home to find that your children had to take refuge in the chicken coop because you weren't home to let them into the house.

Today was blessed with some bonus obstacles.  First, the orthodontist appointment.  It is cleverly scheduled to coincide with the 26 minutes* allotted for a middle-schooler's lunch, thereby minimizing missed classes.  But,  again, timing is crucial. If the most-excellent braces-repair people linger too long over their tooth-related tasks, there will not be enough time to shop and we will either have to live for the week without any foods that are shelved beyond aisle 12 or we will have to extract poopy-booted children from the chicken coop and bribe them with chips not to tell daddy that we were late again.

To further complicate the schedule, the furnace quit yesterday.  By last night, we were beginning to notice that the house was a little colder than usual.  By this morning, it was 53 degrees inside the house, and it was clear that we would have to call for assistance.  The very helpful people at Isaac Heating gave us a window of 8-10 am for the arrival of the repair guy.   Could be good, could be disastrous. Timing is everything.

So now we have arrived at the Supermom Challenge of The Week: exercise, kids, furnace, orthodontist, food, complete all tasks on time and retain bulk of sanity. And it all worked.  I got up mostly on time, made sure that everyone who was planning on leaving the house was wearing clothes and had eaten breakfast, signed the requisite school papers, set up an appointment with the nice furnace repair people, did yoga, bathed and dressed before the nice furnace repair people entered the house, walked the dog, took care of the chickens, and finished the shopping list before I left the house at 10:10.  Now, admittedly, I was a little behind schedule here.  But, the furnace repair guy, after fixing the furnace, asked if I would like a little furnace maintenance.  Having blown off furnace maintenance for 5 years only to end up in a 53 degree house, I opted to mend my evil ways. So I  told him yeah, sure, as long as he could be out of the house by 10 am, time being of the essence and all that (I did eventually remember to ask how much the maintenance was going to cost, money also being of the essence).  And he really did stick to the established schedule.  And then he offered to fix a small problem with my water heater.**  For FREE.  And who is going to turn down that kind of an offer?   At 10:08 he was done and paid and I was squawking at Matty to hurry up and get his &^^$ boots on.  And he did.  And then, when I was sure we were going to have to call the orthodontist and admit that we were running late  for our 10:40 appointment and risk being told that they could no longer accommodate us so could we please reschedule, I got to school and Emma was already waiting for me.  She hopped into the car, and suddenly we were on time again.  At 10:39 we were parking (see, not 10:40 yet; we win!) and at 11:19 we were headed back to school to drop off brace-girl-- following a quick lunch detour-- and before we knew it we were at the grocery store, and we got a good parking space, and a reasonably snow-free shopping cart, and there was enough time to buy food and drive home and put it away without children having to wait in the chicken coop and, to top it all off, the bill was $50 less than usual and I'm pretty sure I bought everything I was supposed to.

How, one might wonder, is it possible to have such a day?  I'll tell you: the minute I walked into the store, I understood the source of all my good fortune.  For there was Daryl, who is paid to greet Wednesday shoppers with free food samples.  She was stationed at the entrance to the produce section, armed with tiny plastic bowls of carrots and hummous*** and she smiled and said "It's National Carrot Day!! Have a carrot!  They're really good for you."  And all became clear.

Behold the Power of Carrots.

Happy National Carrot Day to you and yours!





*Not that the appointment will take 26 minutes. In fact, it takes  15 minutes just to get to the appointment, plus another 15 to get back, plus waiting room time, plus the wildly variable amount of braces-repair time. Again, timing is crucial here.


**I have been ignoring a series of blinking lights for  months, mostly because I didn't like the way the last repair guy criticized my basement and wasn't ready to open myself up to more negativity.


***Very tasty, by the way.  I made sure to buy some for home consumption.

Notes to Self

1. Please do not start pouring milk for your coffee until the spout is OVER the mug.  Premature tipping of the milk carton makes you look like a total aspz spax  spaz.




2. Your coat pocket on a Sunday morning when you are late leaving the house is not a recommended storage container for fresh chicken eggs. Bending over while storing fresh chicken eggs in this manner is also not recommended. The  use of a hot air dryer while remedying the natural consequences of this misguided and irresponsible behavior will not result in the fortuitous appearance of a scrambled egg breakfast in your coat pocket.

3. Please advise all children that the sudden appearance of  rain issuing from the garage ceiling is BAD and must be discouraged.  Any indoor precipitation events must be reported to the authorities immediately. Children should also be reminded that reporting should not be delayed until the problem reaches Code Red  ("call the plumber") status merely because they are testing the hypothesis that there is a secret "plumber's butt" requirement for receiving a plumber's license in this state.  The plumber's daily clothing choices were not made with your amusement in mind and it is not politically correct to make fun of people who are wardrobe-challenged.

4. Lady GaGa songs are not suitable for humming and/or whistling.  You should stop doing this immediately.

Very Important Jobs

One of the dangers of working from home is that there is no boss, supervisor, or nosy co-worker who will walk by at an inopportune moment and catch you not working.  No one to see (gossip about, fire you for) how many games of solitaire you just played, how often you pay your bills at work, or how long you daydream for.  There is a total absence of peer pressure to keep you focused on the work you are supposed to be doing (I don't count my three-year old as a peer on this issue [or any other, if we are being strictly accurate]:  as far as he knows, solitaire is not just my job but my entire life and he doesn't seem to be passing judgment).  Which means that when the laws governing testamentary tru . . . .

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Oops.  Sorry.

testamentary trusts threaten to shrivel your brain, there is no one around to give you the evil eye if you suddenly find it absolutely necessary to wash out your garbage cans or clean out your keyboard. Not that these are unimportant tasks, but perhaps it is not vital that they be undertaken NOW, during the prime working hours when most of the kids are out of the house.  And, although pride in your work is a good thing, it is probably a better thing that no one (non-judgmental three-year olds excepted) is around to see how someone who just recently was caught napping over trusts could attack a keyboard with such relish (and baby wipes and paperclip ends).  Or to ask why a person who works at a lap top (which has its very own spiffy keyboard built right in!), would feel compelled to plug in a second keyboard.



(Well, I found it when I was cleaning yesterday and it looked cool, so I decided to plug it in and give it a go.  What do you think of it?  Clean, isn't it?)

Good news/Bad news

So the good news is that I didn't eat any extra chocolate this morning.  By this, I mean no chocolate aside from the chocolate chips that were rightfully located in my banana bread, which I ate for an actual breakfast and not a 'breakfast dessert.'  The bad news is that I ordered some more fiber for spinning.  Today's tally is plus one for the food diet, minus one for the yarn/fiber diet.  Maybe if I spin a whole lot, or really fast, it can count as aerobic exercise, and then I can claim the fiber shopping accident (curse you Dizzy Sheep!) was all part of my new diet and exercise regime.  Yeah.  That's it . . . all part of my plan.