knittybitty

Rustics xmas card

2010-11-30T10:38:00.001-08:00

Retro Christmas Christmas 5x7 folded card

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May Flowers

2010-05-19T14:35:00.000-07:00

I spent the morning over at the vegetable garden on my friend's property. We're growing a lot of fun things and everything is going great guns! Peas, broccoli, cabbage, kale, lettuce, spinach, cucumbers, zucchini, tomatoes, beans, potatoes, fennel, chard... whew! What a crop! It was getting a bit overgrown, so a day and a half of weeding, transplanting, and taming were due. Brought home a nice little bag of spinach for a salad, and a bouquet of mismatched flowers that made me think of my Gramma.

Both my great-grandpa Albert, and my Grampa Ralph grew beautiful flowers in the postage-stamp backyard-turned-garden over the nearly 50 years they lived there on Colby. This bouquet reminds me of the ones that always adorned their table. It also reminds me of the bouquets we would take to the cemetery on occasional Sunday visits. We'd put them in the urns that were stored right in the flat headstones; you'd unscrew the round ring, pull out a bronze 'vase', go over to the nearest water spigot, fill it up and stick it right-side up again in the same hole. Pretty nifty invention. When I was small we took flowers to my mom's grandmother's grave. Her name was Sena Larsen, but she died long before I was born and I know her only by photos. When her husband, my great-grampa Albert passed, we took flowers for him too. There was always a stop at the grave of my mom's cousin Jim, who died at the age of 19 in Viet Nam, only two months into his tour there. I usually wandered over to the children's section of the cemetery to look sadly at the tiny little headstones carved with lambs or toys and inscriptions such as, "Our Little Angel" or "Taken Too Soon".

It used to be the normal thing to do, going out to the cemetery to pay respects and bring a bouquet of flowers from your own yard. It was nice, actually. I guess that's why this particular bunch of flowers harken back to that simple time when what you had was what you made do with. No one would have thought to pay good money for flowers from the florist! How impersonal! No, we knew that the gentle soul laid to rest there was going to take joy, somehow, from that simple offering. And as we buried our faces in the bouquet before placing it on the grave, we remembered our loved one, and took the fragrance with us when we left. I still think of my Gramma when I smell sweetpeas. And Grampa Albert when I smell lilacs. Perhaps part of those associations have to do with being purposeful in our graveside offerings.

On a lighter note (!) We're getting moved in to our new place and loving it so much! Here's a look at the living room in the morning light. I don't spend a lot of time there; we have a family room with a fireplace, so when we do sit down, it's been in there, but I love this house. The light in every room is so lovely!

Bob is building me an arbor over the steps to my raised garden beds out back. He uses recycled materials from the dump or yard sales and puts together the cutest things! Now that we have a big yard of our own, he's making me all kinds of treasures. A garden shed is next on his list...

So that's the latest from my neck of the woods! I had a wonderful visit over Mother's Day with Jordan, Dianna, Micaiah, and Elliyah! The Coast Guard has them in Virginia now-- still too far away, but I'm so thankful for our visits!

Now where did I put my muse?

2010-04-27T14:14:00.000-07:00

I know what I should be doing... I should be upstairs unpacking my craft room. Other rooms in the house are falling into place; the living and dining rooms are in good shape, just waiting for picture hooks so I can hang various things on the walls. The kitchen is operating at full speed, turning out hot breakfasts each morning, and even cookies now and then! Note: Home-baked cookies are a sure indication that you've officially 'moved in' to your home. They're also a good source of comfort when the 'unmoved in' rooms loom large.

But that craft room! Oh my. It's ready to be unpacked-- the walls are the loveliest shade of rose! I've found bookcases and shelves from local yard sales, and even an arm chair from the 1930's in chocolate mohair! This room is going to be my haven and my muse. It doesn't have to double as a guest room; we have one of those! Everything I love can go into it and be showcased. Walls of yarn, photos, paintings, fabric, quilts, and dolls... it's going to be marvelous!

But right now it's just a room full of boxes-- so many boxes! Why is it so hard to take that first step?

Alright. I'll go take a 'before' photo... and then I'll get to work.

Wish me luck!

It only takes two generations...

2010-04-12T09:51:00.000-07:00

I read somewhere once that all of us are fogotten after two generations. I guess that is case, if you think about it. My kids knew my grandparents for about seven years before they passed. They still have some faint memories of time spent with them, but they didn't know them. Their own children will someday see pictures and hear stories, but it will be 'ancient history' to them.

So, in essence, I'm the fire tender for my grandparent's memories. I hold them dearly in my heart, for that is where they now live. I don't want to go by that house at 1822 Colby; no one I know is there. The real 1822 Colby is in my memory and it is still bustling with the sounds and smells of family...

There are 14 loaves of the heaviest white bread you can imagine raising on the kitchen counter, while a pot of soup bubbles on the stove. The coffee pot is on--a bottomless plate of cookies next to it-- and the record player is working it's way through a stack of LP's that just make you want to tap your feet.

You can hear the sound of a saw blade screaming through a two by four from the shop out back. The backyard garden fills the tiny space and offers up beautiful gifts, including the vase of sweet peas on the table that fragrance the whole house.

The dice cup has just cooled down from the morning's match, and a score pad reveals a tight game. Everyone who stops by contributes to the hefty coin jar Grampa keeps on the shelf, and I think he makes his wine strong on purpose to hone his advantage.

Gramma's in the laundry room, her hair up in curlers and bound with a green scarf. She is humming to the music, a smile forever on her lips. In the bedroom her typewriter holds a letter she is writing to someone far from home. She'll put in some newspaper clippings of the local stories, and maybe a recipe to share.

People will stop in throughout the day and have a bowl of soup or a glass of homemade wine. They'll be met with smiles and a warm hospitality that will make the day better somehow. They might be a few dollars poorer, but the time spent at the game table will be priceless. Before they leave Grampa will put a loaf of fresh bread in a bag, and add a bottle of Blackberry wine for good measure. Gramma will send some of those cookies along with them, and they'll both stand on the porch waving until the car disappears from sight.

"Stop by now!" That's what they always said as you were leaving.

And I do. As often as I can now.

A little place to call our own...

2010-04-08T14:27:00.000-07:00

I know it must feel as if I've been kicking this same dead subject for a long time now, but if you've known me for a while you know how dear having a place to call home is to me.

Perhaps it is because I've moved over 25 times in my life, first as an Army Brat, then as an Army Wife & Mom, and now as a Middle-Aged Woman starting again. My own wonderful mother always made each place a home, and as an adult, when our own career took us hither and yon, I took great care in making 'silk purses' out of the 'sow's ear' military housing we were given.

My home has always been an outpouring of not only my creative self, but of my desire to nurture and delight those who live under its roof. Anything outside its doors might be uncertain, unfriendly, or even unsavory, but inside there is always comfort and sweetness and the security of a safe haven. And laughter. Always laughter!

My choices over the past four years have led me through a wilderness of sorts. I refer to the tribulations of that time as "Things I lost in the fire". For while I left everything behind to save my sanity, the cost was dear. Now I am rebuilding, and I am finding more joy than I ever believed I deserved.

The past few years have found me in many unlikely places: Estranged for a period of time from my family, homeless, then in an abusive relationship, then graciously back at my parent's home, and now--finally-- in a veritable paradise of love and joy. My wonderful man welcomed me into his heart and his home, and now we are moving to a new place where I can put my own things out again and we can create a wonderful nest together.

When I found the rental listing, drove over to peek in the windows, and realized how perfect it was, I actually burst into tears. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you!" was all I could say. I had been asking God for that Perfect Plan He has for me to hurry up and happen! Even I didn't realize how great my need was to have a real home again. I have been so grateful for everyone who has given me a place to stay during these past years, but in this place I will be able to plant things in the ground! And paint walls! And settle in! And have a place for the gran'babies to come and stay!

I've been given a Real Life again. I know, I know, I had it all along, red ruby slippers, no place like home, yadda yadda... but this is Big. Real Big. Like, tears of joy and relief every single day Big.

Think I'll drive over there today, in fact, and start planning those rooms...

Let them eat cake!

2010-04-01T12:39:00.000-07:00

I always get excited when I find a recipe and discover I have everything I need in the pantry to make it!

This Beauty is a Lemon Glazed Layer cake from this month's Sunset magazine. Mine had to be tweaked by supplementing some fresh squeezed orange and lime juices since I didn't have enough fresh lemons, but I think it turned it out pretty darn cute!

It's got buttercream frosting with fresh citrus juices and zest... I can hardly wait to cut into it when Bob gets home!

The empty house next door offered up this sweet bouquet this morning...

Happy Spring!

Meaty Goodness... mmmm!

2010-03-31T10:35:00.000-07:00

I've used this recipe with Standing Rib Roasts-- in days of yore, when money was apparently no object!-- but now share the method using the lowly Eye of Round Roast, which can be picked up on sale for about three bucks a pound...

Give it a try sometime; I think you'll love it!

High Temp Eye of Round Roast

1. Preheat oven to 500-degrees
2. Season your roast to taste ( I like salt, fresh-ground pepper, garlic powder, etc.) and place in roasting pan, uncovered, with no liquids
3. Reduce oven temp to 475-degrees, put roast in to cook for seven minutes per pound (i.e. a three pound roast would cook for 21 minutes)
4. Turn off oven and do NOT open the door at all for 2 1/2 hours!
5. Slice thin and enjoy!

This makes a delicious, tender, and medium-rare roast out of a normally very tough piece of meat! You can slice it up for lunchmeat too, making an economical cold-cut at half the price of deli-counter meats!

Serve it with Aus Jus sauce, or horseradish... yum yum yum!

I'll have to add it to the menu of my new business venture: In Good Taste, Your Personal Chef.
Have you seen my website?
www.ingoodtaste.homestead.com

Enjoy!

Yard Sale Treasures!

2010-03-29T12:11:00.000-07:00

I'm so excited that spring is here... last week began the first wave of yard sales, and there was treasure, treasure everywhere!

This 1950's doll house is in perfect condition; and each room is so sweetly decorated I almost wish I could live here myself. I've always had a 'thing' for dolls... in fact, I'm making a new batch of them this week to sell at the farmer's markets with Bob's sheds. His work is primitive and rustic, so my dolls will be too. I don't think you're ever to old to play with dolls...

Another of my weaknesses is dishes--at one time

in my life I owned eight sets--which led to this little indiscretion....

I certainly don't need any more dishes, but oh my goodness, these were soooo darling! There's an entire place setting for six, including delicate cups & saucers, a cream & sugar set, and a tea-pot, all in this sweet Pussy Willow design, made in Japan and quite vintage! I can't wait to have a lovely hutch someday to show them off! It makes me want to have a tea party and invite you over for finger sandwiches!

These are some beautiful tulips that Emily sent me from Holland when she was there with YWAM. I only wish she was here to enjoy them with me now!

I don't think I ever imagined I'd be at this place in my life right now and my kids wouldn't be right down the road...

Miss those little guys!

Blurbing vs. Blogging

2010-03-28T16:49:00.000-07:00

To say it's been a while since I've blogged is rather an understatement. I can only plead insanity based on Facebook, and make a vow to return to the purity of blogging.

Facebook is cloying; it's the Reader's Digest of communications. A simple and fast read in lieu of anything deeper and more meaningful. I'm not ashamed to say I've enjoyed it very much-- indeed, if it weren't for facebook I wouldn't have found many of my old friends and enjoyed being in touch with them over the past year!

But I also miss the deliberate outpouring of myself that blogging allows. Lately I've been surfing the blog sites of other crafters, moms, and artists, and thinking, "Dang! I need to do this again!" and do it with more consistency. I've got some great stuff going on in my life and I want you all to see it...

So, I'm going to keep my camera handy, and I'm going to write about what I'm doing and why it makes me so happy to do it!

And, yes, I'll still be on facebook. But it's time to get back to chapter books about life, and not just blurbs.

Stay tuned!

She loves to laugh...

2009-02-16T11:13:00.000-08:00

If you know her, she is one of the most beautiful women in your life. She smiles all the time and she loves to laugh. She'll tell you she isn't the witty one, she's the one who laughs and enjoys it more than anyone I know. That is a gift in itself; witty people appreciate those who enjoy their craft. I know that's something dad enjoys about her so much, and vice-versa. When asked how their marriage has endured for 50 years, she's quick to tell you, "Every day he shows me how much he loves me, and every day he makes me laugh."

There are few things in this life she doesn't enjoy; she is an optimist and can find the silver lining to the darkest cloud. Of all the things she loves, however, two things are held more dearly: Flowers and food. She is God's most ardent fan of anything that grows. Her gardens are a place where no volunteering plant is plucked out. Somehow there is room for all-- the more the merrier! She loves the colors and design, from the smallest forget-me-not to the flowering dogwood tree, no blossom goes unnoticed or unapplauded. The saying goes, "Earth laughs in flowers", and as I've said, mom loves a good laugh.

Perhaps it comes from her Norwegian roots, but her love of food is a joy to behold. Her mom, my Gramma, was the same way. Loved to cook for everyone-- food was a gift of love offered to those at her table. And no matter how humble the gift, it was presented with careful beauty and a sweetness of spirit. My mom offers food in the same manner. You have to look carefully--both women being terribly modest about the food being offered--but the oohs and ahhs and smiles of those around the table bring a great measure of joy to the giver.

I love to watch my mom in front of the bakery case. Her eyes light up at the sweet delights lined up like little flowers. She makes no effort to hide her excitement about maple bars and cream cheese danish, or even the lowly cake donut. She appreciates each one and is eager to make sure everyone else gets one too, and oooh, can she have a little bite please? Memories of hot fudge sundaes at Herfy's after church are as vivid now as 40 years ago. Every bite seemed to produce an exclamation of appreciation, "Mmmm, oooh! yumm!" And those are the same praises she brings to every food she so enjoys.

Bring her flowers, and she buries her face in them, drawing deeply for their scent. Bring her a pastry and her eyes light up and she bites in with gusto, relishing the experience... even now. Even now, when those two loves of her life have been taken from her in a sense, literally in a sense. Her sense of smell and her sense of taste have left her. The doctors speculate that it has to do with the perisistent migraines she's suffered with over the past several years, but nothing seems to bring them back. It seems so cruel, really. She puts her nose to the blossoms and closes her eyes, waiting for the aroma that never comes to her. I think the only thing that could be worse is if she lost her sight as well and could not enjoy their color and beauty.

Last summer when the family was here on the island my dad made one of his amazing grilled salmon dinners. We were enjoying the bounty of the Northwest-- fish, sweet corn, fresh vegetables-- and my mom made the comment she always does, "The salmon is wonderful, Monte!" and we all heartily agreed, adding our own praises from mouths stuffed with food. But in that moment as I listened to her and thought, 'but she can't taste anything!' I realized it wasn't about what she could taste. It wasn't even about the habit of manners, which certainly we all fall back on when enjoying a meal together. It was about memory. It was about the joy that grilled salmon brings to our family, and the taste of it that has a place in her memory. As I'm writing this I can close my eyes and think of how that salmon tasted. Well, mom does the same thing, but she does it for everything she eats and drinks. She still loves her coffee-- pour her a cup and she will take a sip and say, "Mmm, good coffee!" Maybe the silver lining to this cloud of hers is that she remembers how good things tasted and is thankful for the memory of them. The sweetness in it is that she still gives thanks for something that she can't taste or smell.

But then, if you know her, it's no surprise at all... her life is about praising.

And she does it so well.

Home again, home again

2009-02-12T11:27:00.000-08:00

I recently moved into my parent's house while it is on the market.

Because it sat empty for a few months, it's easier to move my own things in and not feel the twinge of despair quite as acutely. I miss them. It's a house that has been mine as well as theirs, as well as all of ours, for twenty years.

I put my kitchen utensils in the same place mom had hers... why improve on perfection? The cupboards are strangely uncluttered; I don't have a lot to fill them and I'm quite happy with that! I am still awed by the view every morning when I come out to turn the coffee maker on. Natalie still thinks Gramma is going to be here with open arms every time we turn in the driveway...

It's wonderful to be here; it's bittersweet, evoking memories and smiles and then the occasional surprise when I return home to find that I'm the only one who lives here.

I filled the feeders and raked out the gardens. I'm watching the snowdrops poke up and look for sun. I put a spanking new American flag in the stand on the deck. Some things are requisite here, flags and feeders being two of them. It's a lovely respite, this time here. I do not know what my future holds, but I am enjoying contentedness in ways I have not previously known and the wonder of that is equal to the wonder of the snowdrops poking through sodden soil, harbingers of a brighter day coming.

Lent is coming. My favorite church season. Ash Wednesday begins the forty days leading to Easter. If you haven't observed Lent in a while, the Upper Room is an excellent online resource. There is a daily study or check out the bookstore for study guides and devotionals on the Lenten practices. If you come from a non-denominational background, it is a deeply personal experience to bring the liturgical practices of the traditional holy days into your spiritual life.

A church readerboard in Freeland reads, "Hope Springs Eternal!" I want to sneak over in the dead of night sometime and rearrange it to read, "Spring's Hope Eternal!"

It's just around the corner, really...

It's a New Year... again.

2009-01-07T16:31:00.000-08:00

Sorry I don't keep up on the blog so well anymore! I'm on facebook.com much more frequently and forget that there are some of you who just aren't there!

So Christmas is a sweet memory now and even the New Year is a week old! We had a lovely deluge of snow for two weeks, and while it was fun to have a very white Christmas, it was nicer when it went away. This part of the world just isn't prepared for below-zero temperatures and treacherous streets!

I'm currently finishing up my third block of classes online, but after finals this month I believe I will switch to a local college. It's cheaper and I miss the actual classroom setting. I love school, and am particularly happy with maintaining a 4.0 GPA! I'm Real Smart. Even if I am Real Old.

Real Old people still run marathons too, and I'm signed up to race in the PFChang 13.2 mile Rock 'n Roll 1/2 marathon in Phoenix on the 18th!! My folks are down there now, so I'll also be able to visit them as well. Emily is coming, as well as my new man. We're all looking forward to a little warmth and sunshine!

My new man is named Don. I met him over a year ago as a customer. He was always so kind and friendly. When I decided to date someone new he was the one I knew I'd like to get to know better. He treats me like a princess and is quite possibly the nicest man I've ever met. We hang out all the time and enjoy all the same things. We both consider ourselves pretty blessed to have found each other... and my folks like him! Natalie Spangler likes him too... he spoils her.

On the knitting side of things, well, I am almost done with a cardigan I started 15 months ago... that's not bad, considering what those fifteen months have been like! Once I set the sleeves in it will be good to go! I'm also finishing up a very darling vest for Michaiah! It was supposed to be for Christmas, but the small detail of the little guy not having a matching Christmas stocking preempted any other gifts on the sticks... the stocking was sent out "tout de suite" (impressive, no?) If you're curious, here's the treasure:

Sorry... you'll have to turn your head... oops! Anyway, it impressively is constructed using the same fabrics as his Daddy's stocking from 1991. Who says a fabric stash can't have redeeming values!?

That's about all there is to tell on this end! Oh, wait! I'm moving at the end of the month-- Dad and Mom's house is still empty and my lease is up... I'm going to "live lightly" in their house here on the island until it sells... or something else comes up...

Emily, Natalie, and I wish you a very happy new year... lots of good things coming up this year, September in particular! We'll keep you posted!

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens...

2008-12-12T17:04:00.000-08:00

... Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens, brown paper packages tied up with strings, these are a few of my favorite things...

The Sound of Music came out in 1959-- the year before I was born. Julie Andrews was an incurably darling, ever youthful, squeaky clean icon of my youth. I know you want to hear the rest of the song. Here it is: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J_4SgRXZlAk&eurl=http://www.allmusicals.com/lyrics/soundofmusicthe/myfavoritethings.htm

Betcha can't resist.

Were you singing along? Hmmm?

So I was thinking of things I love, my 'favorite things'...

Big wood fires that crackle and make the house smell good
Whipping cream on a cup of hot chocolate
Real butter smeared on warm bread
Finding money in the pocket of something I haven't worn in a while
the first taste of coffee in the morning
the Christmas shows that you only see once a year: Charlie Brown Christmas, It's a Wonderful Life, A Christmas Story...
Hot toddies
Really good hugs
Smiles
Yarn shops
Candles on the mantle surrounded by fresh greens
Cake doughnuts
the moment someone catches on to knitting-- and loves it!
Remembering when I was small
Making my mom laugh
Lavender anything
Sleeping in
Running far and long and feeling good afterward
Clean windows
Dirty martinis
Finishing a project
Hugs from Shea
Text messages from Dianna
Calls from Emily
Spa treatments
Starbucks... mmm....
that perfect green
Finding sea glass
Kisses
Balancing my checkbook to the penny
Diamond jewelry
Wearing my tiara just for the heck of it
Lent
Dinner in the crockpot so the house smells like supper
Singing "O Sacred Head Now Wounded", a capella, by myself!
Remembering Beanie Guy's little face when the doctor put him on my tummy

I guess there are a million other things... twinkle lights on trees, Drumstick ice cream bars, red cardinals on white snow, baby teeth the tooth fairy saved... red flyer wagons...Blue Moon with an orange... finding a secret present hidden on the tree after everything else has been cleared away...

Okay, I'll stop for now.

What are your favorite things?

Knitta, puhleeeze!

2008-11-03T16:12:00.000-08:00

Man, today was good. I got to teach my friend Amy how to knit.

She's got no previous yarn experience, so she was a clean slate and so excited about it. I let her knit a few rows to get her 'on the sticks', then put her on circulars to make a baby hat so she can play around with decreases and double-points.

Good times.

She's beside herself with excitement. I miss that so much. I miss teaching knitting. I miss Unwind. I miss giving someone a gift that changes their lives rather than just bagging their groceries.

Sigh.

I will have to look for more opportunities to do this. Yarn is plentiful here on South Whidbey, but knitters are not a visible group.

I miss teaching kids, especially.

There's a fire in my woodstove today, cider in the pot, and celtic music filling the rooms with the sweet and sad tunes of fall.

Hope your day offers something to treasure...

The Frost is on the Pumpkin and all that jazz...

2008-10-20T07:36:00.000-07:00

So you'd think I'd at least blog after my great trip to New Jersey for the Little Guy's first birthday! Here I've been home a month and there's nothin'! What kind of Grammy am I?
Shame on me!

So here's a picture of my grandson, Michaiah...

He's the best little guy in the world. (In the world!) He makes Grammy smile and smile, just like his daddy used to do. It's a wonderful feeling to know that the best grandbaby in the world is being raised by the best kids in the world. (In the world!)

Since I've been home I've been busy with school, work, and helping my folks move to Arizona. School is fun, but it's different online. Maybe when I'm done with this part of my degree I can get into a traditional classroom setting for the next part. I miss the interaction with the instructor-- plus the suck-up factor-- I've always scored big on the 'teacher's pet' thing.

Work is work. A constant pendulum swinging between great and wonderful customers and really crappy people who are mean. I have been feeling more positive lately about my job, however, and try to make my customer's time an unexpected delight while they're with me. I'm like a mini comedy club... or a speed dating segment... or the smiling clerk you never expect to find anymore. Most days are pretty darn good. And when they're not, there's donuts right there to make it all better. Mmmmm. Donuts.

As far as my parent's moving to Arizona... well, that's been a tough one. Hard goodbyes, although, as my dad always says, there's no 'goodbyes', just 'see you soon', and that is the best way to look at it. Of course, I was the one left waving from the driveway as the U-Haul drove off, so it seemed pretty much like a goodbye to me! Lots of teary hugs and last minute words of love and thanks. I have the best family in the world (in the world!) because we never leave anything unsaid. When the day comes that one of us is gone, no one will regret what wasn't said... it's always been said, and said eye to eye with plenty of hugs and smiles through tears.

Here's my mom, loading up her van with the pots of flowers she took with her to Arizona. I love that wherever she is, there are flowers. The earth laughs in flowers, and my mom loves a good laugh.

This past year has been the hardest year of my life. I found a notebook I was quasi-journaling in a year ago; I had forced myself to make a list of the good things in my life, since the bad things were bigger and scarier than what I could bear. There were simple things like having a job, having Natalie Spangler, having good kids... and the last entry was, simply, "in 12 months this will all be better".

And it is. And it only took eleven months.
I have much to be thankful for.
If you're reading this blog, I'm thankful for you!

Oh, and as a closing thought about Natalie Spangler, she and I went to the Pumpkin farm yesterday to get some fall cheer. She rode in the wagon and was rather nattily attired in her green scarf, much to the delight of everyone who saw her. We brought home pumpkins galore and made the house look like fall. I love fall! Maybe because my birthday is just NINE days away (hint hint). Or maybe because everything good always comes with fall: pumpkins and pies and orange leaves and candy corn and warm fires and new notebooks for school and flannel sheets...

Enjoy.

Mom, Interrupted

2008-08-04T10:08:00.000-07:00

I don't know if anyone really reads these posts. After all, I don't talk to anyone anymore and I wouldn't blame them for not caring to keep up with my goings on. I'm not trying to be a hermit, it's not my intention to have alienated myself from my old life, it's just what happened on the way to where I find myself today.

I still work at the grocery store, but I like it less and less. I do have to say that being a cashier is much less pathetic if you can say you're doing it to work your way through college, so I'm taking full time online classes to get my associate's degree, and then I will work on my bachelor's degree in psychology. I had a Christian therapist once who was so much more helpful because of his Christian worldview. I'd like to be that same person in the lives of others who are hurting.

I also clean houses on the side, and have a Saturday morning job working at the local farmer's market. It's getting my little woman through college, at least for now! I'm moving soon, to cheaper digs, and that will be helpful.

The highlight of my summer has been having all the kids home last month. Emily flew in from Costa Rica, on her way back to Kona to finish her last year there. Micaiah and his parents flew over from New Jersey to meet all his west-coast family. It was a wonderful week, and of course it went far too quickly. Next month I'm flying out to celebrate Micaiah's first birthday!! Just seems like yesterday I was flying out to meet him for the first time. He's a treasure. The happiest baby ever. I mean EVER. All smiles, all the time. Nice.

So that's what I'm up to. I'm tired. I'm frustrated. But it's a season. I hope next season will be a bit more restful, but these seasons aren't like the real ones where you know what's coming next. These are more like ones you put in a hat and hope to draw out the better one next time.

It's my life, just not like any life I've ever known.

The Perfect Host

2008-06-08T19:25:00.000-07:00

On Sundays I attend a very sweet little church here on the Island called St. Augustine's In The Woods. When the kids lived at home we always attended non-denominational churches, probably because I was raised Lutheran and stumbled into young adulthood knowing nothing about God or Christ because of it. I wanted something more stimulating for our family. The non-denominational churches we attended in Hawaii, Illinois, and Texas were places we could really learn about God and feel nourished, as well as find community and support for our homeschooling family. It was a good fit at the time.

When it came time to look for my own church, however, I suddenly found I didn't want the emotion and commotion that accompanies the 'Spirit-filled' churches. I wanted quiet. I wanted to meet God privately and with reverence. I don't have anything against those churches, it was just a matter of coming back to God in a quiet way-- one that didn't require even speaking to anyone else if I didn't want to. I get a bit nervous even now at the point in the Episcopal service where they turn to each other and 'share the Peace of the Lord'.

The rest of the service, however, is completely non-confrontational... some would say it's boring, that liturgical services are a cop-out, that hymns are hardly a form of praise. I know this, because I used to feel the same way.

One day it occurred to me that sometimes your heart isn't engaged in church. In fact, it's very often not engaged! But the beauty of the Episcopal church is the liturgy. There in the Book of Common Prayer are the words all laid out for you. Sure, anyone can dully follow along, mouthing the words and never letting them touch the heart. But if you ask God to stir your heart toward Him as you read, you begin to feel something in the words, and suddenly your eyes well up and your heart expands and you say, Yes! I do believe this! My heart does want this! A Holy God is indeed in our midst! And you might have missed the whole thing if you hadn't purposed to find God there. Not that you can't purpose to find God in a charismatic type church, it's just that everything there comes at you like a show sometimes, like entertainment. Slide shows and dramas and music and surprises... Again, it's a great ministry, but at this time in my life I really, truly just want to be alone with God and with my sins and with the beauty of silence and the comfort of repetition and with the sweet fragrance of forgiveness at the end of each service.

Every week, having confessed our sins and actually knelt before God in humble thanksgiving, we partake of Communion. It's a beautiful ceremony in which the presiding minister--who is appropriately referred to as the Celebrant!--sings the liturgy, and the congregation responds in song. He then lifts the plate of bread and the chalice of wine up to God and proclaims, "the Gifts of God for the people of God. Holy Gifts for a holy people", and then we come to the front and kneel below the beautiful alter and cross. The bread is given with the words "The Body of Christ, the bread of Heaven". Then the chalice is brought to each one, with these words, "the Blood of Christ, the cup of salvation". And you partake of these, which are not only the the mystery of universe, but also the most beautiful gift ever given.

It's a very deliberate and moving service. I rarely miss a Sunday.

Today the wine was in a hammered silver chalice. Some weeks it's in an earthy blue pottery chalice. Likewise, the bread varies from week to week. I'm not sure why... I guess I'll have to visit my rector and ask the hard questions. Today the bread was chewy and yeasty, yet looked unleavened. I thought that it was just like Jesus to be sweet, yet substantial, and with the promise of rising again! One week it was a rustic loaf, and again I thought it appropos as Jesus was rather rough and wheaty and an artisan himself. Of course some weeks it is the little white wafer that is something like a cross between compressed fish food and Necco candies. But is it not true that sometimes we look at Christ and see him as a mystery that is undefineable? I have to give the Eucharist committee high marks for being spot-on when it comes to representing Jesus at the communion rail!

So those are my thoughts today. I love this little church. I have a permanent name tag now, just like the members, so I'm really out there! Wow! Next week I'll make my way to the coffee hour after service and rub elbows with the life-long members. I think they'll be happy to see me. I'm planning on helping with Vacation Bible school this summer. The blessing of being with children again would be so welcome...

Dig, Knit, Sew.

2008-05-27T09:40:00.000-07:00

People in Washington are bitter. Bitter about the lack of spring-like weather. Bitter about the cold, gray days. Bitter about having to burn next fall's firewood to stay warm in May. I hear it all day long on my checkstand at work. I've decided to think of this as the "Dead of Spring". It makes it seem less miserable. I mean if this is Spring, then the weather pretty much stinks. But if it's the Dead of Spring, perhaps 49-degrees isn't so cold after all, right?

The cold has kept me staying busy, if nothing else, just to stay warm. If you sit still for too long you'll atrophy from the chill. I've put in pots of flowers in riotous colors. I used to be a mellow gardener, but lately I like orange flowers mixed with purples and fuschias. It's fiery and alive. I bought a six-pack of stocks in assorted colors only to have them bloom creamy light yellow. Hmm. I guess cream is a color, but how assorted is it when all six turn out that mundane? These beauties are African Daisies. They're so stylized and interesting I had to include them in my garden.

I'm also sewing. I'd given away most of my fabrics to a local church that does quilts for those in need, but I saved a few bundles that still piqued my interest. I was looking through all my pattern books trying to decide what to make from them, and finally had an epiphany that all quilt fabric does not need to be made into quilts! So, I made them into napkins and placemats instead. Very easy and I still get to enjoy the fabrics every bit as much, if not more. These wild fabrics are reversable napkins. The fabrics are crazy, but I liked them! They are perfectly wonderful in my cheery cherry kitchen.

I finished knitting a little blue sweater for my nephew Elliott. It was supposed to be done back at Christmas but my life had been a bit undone for a while and the little sweater suffered for it. He's darling in it... I hope to get a picture of him, but since his mother offered not so much as a Thank You for it, I'm not holding my breath on the photo coming anytime soon. People are funny. The last sweater I made him was found in the garbage... so this little blue sweater's fate is perilous, and yet it was intended for him and it can only go to him. Knitting is like that. I think of the person I'm knitting for while I'm working on the garment. In that way, all good thoughts, prayers, and memories are knit right into it. That's what makes it precious.

Currently I'm working on two new projects. The photos on the pattern don't do it justice, but these Broadripple socks in butter yellow for a certain sweet mom in my life who loves butter yellow are turning out very darling indeed. I will post my own photo when they look more like socks and less like spaghetti on four needles. The other project is one I started two springs ago with some yarn from that snobby-chic Tricoter in Seattle. The owner actually fashioned me a pattern from a photo of a sweater in a catalogue. I'm knitting on Blue Moon yarns, one with a slub, one with shimmer, alternating four rows to two to create a lovely drapey fabric. When I ran across it last month it was only a back and one sleeve. I've since finished the other sleeve and one front piece. I'm looking forward to getting it finished, especially since it's the perfect summer weight... if summer actually comes, that is.

So that's about it from this side of the lagoon. I'm looking forward to having Jordan, Dianna, Micaiah, and Emily home for a week in July! We haven't all been together since Christmas of 2006. Haven't seen that little grandbaby since he was a wee one, and now he's crawling and has a mouthful of teeth!

Hope this finds you all well too.

Mom's the Word

2008-05-11T08:48:00.000-07:00

This is a little note to my two Best-In-The-World kids:

You guys are still the best thing in my whole whole world!! And now that you've added Dianna and Micaiah and Shea to the mix it's just that much better.

I love you all so much and can't wait to see you in July! Woo Hoo!

Hugs & Kisses,
Mommy

13.1

2008-04-18T09:51:00.000-07:00

Sunday I ran another half marathon, one that I have trained for since January. I guess training paid off, as I shaved roughly 10 minutes off my previous 13.1 time, coming in at 2:16:07! Not bad for someone who's Real Old. My pace time averaged 10:24 per mile. I couldn't believe how every mile marker came so quickly and how good I felt to be running so well! At the finish line-- after I recovered a bit from that final push-- I actually cried with happiness.

I've gotta tell you, I'm Real Happy lately. It's as if the universe just shifted. As if it suddenly realized it had been sitting on my chest for the past couple years and apologetically moved over.

Many things have transpired to bring me to this place of peace, but the bottom line is this: I'm going to be okay. In fact, I'm already okay. I looked at my Life Interupted entry in the August 2007 archive just now. I didn't realize how brutally accurate I had been with that entry. It's everything I've just spent eight months in therapy for, and it was spot on. I have learned so much about my life and my self. I am so thankful that I'm still here. I'm so grateful to be feeling better. I have come to understand so much about the pain I was feeling when I wrote that, and while the process of getting to this place of peace and wholeness has been excruciating at times, I made it!

If you read that painful entry, you'll be happy to know that all the boxes of stuff I was so ready to give away or burn are the very same boxes I brought to my new life. For some reason it seemed so right to unpack those sweet memories and set them up here. I polished them up, sheepishly apologizing to them for having ever wanted them gone, and set them in places of honor here. I have my Cheery Cherry kitchen again, dotted with red and even some pink for fun! My sewing room is a riot of color and creativity. My fabrics and yarns, all arranged in rainbow spectrum, call to me to come and play. The things that came out of those boxes were little treasures that signalled my hopefulness in a bright and sweet future. I had wanted them gone because they seemed to mock me back then. They were remnants of the best times of my life. That life was over and nothing came to fill it's place.

Now that winter season is over. I am so happy to have my life. I'm thankful for all I've had over the years. This new season is promising and sweet and fresh. Like taking off winter boots and walking barefoot in the new spring grass. Thinking Wow! Has the grass always been this wonderful and I just didn't see it?

Indeed.

2008-02-18T11:24:00.000-08:00

Yes, I've moved.

And that makes a lot of people uncomfortable, and for that I'm truly sorry. But I cannot stay in the place where I was. I have made choices, and not many of you are happy with them. I get it: I'm selfish. I'm foolish. I'm crazy. I'm rash. I'm an idiot. I'm throwing away 'the best'...

Thanks. Thanks for 'understanding' that what my life appeared to be for all those years was for everyone's benefit... and that pain isn't always something to be endured. I don't want to explain myself to those who do not choose to accept my path. I have heard your disappointment, I have felt your silent disapproval. You think you know the story-- you do not.

I'm going to keep on blogging, and I'm going to act as if anyone reading it will be happy for my new life. If you're not going to be accepting of me, then don't read it please.

So, yes, I've moved.

I'm living in a quirky little house on a lagoon. It's totally 70's retro, right down to the Fisher wood stoves and gold bathroom fixtures. But every room is filled with light from the abundant windows, and the view onto the docks and boats is charming. Here's the view from the back deck:

I'm still working as a cashier, but trying to get on at the local phone company so that I can make more money and have normal hours. Right now I'm only working 24 hours a week in four-hour shifts that end at 9:30pm. Ugh. The other job would be full time and days. I know that comes with it's own brand of "Ugh" but at least the money is better. I'm trying to make some extra to keep Emily in school for the next year with YWAM.

Getting moved in here is interesting. I've got just a few things: Four plates. Four bowls. Two pots. One pan. Four forks, knives, and spoons. Two coffee mugs. Four glasses. I have some furniture. I have a fouton bed. I have my sewing machine and a crapload of yarn. I have Natalie. She has her bed and her dishes. I have two towels, one washcloth, and a hand towel. There is something very healing in having so little.

The house has a built in credenza, so I have my teapots displayed. They are like little works of art. Each room is mostly windows, so wall space is premium. I have a watercolor print that my sister had commissioned for me several years ago. In it a blue rowboat sits in front of a red-roofed house. I have always been moved by it, as it representsa peaceful place with the chance for escape in that blue boat. It looks perfectly at home on the wall now. And out the window I can see a blue rowboat sitting in back of the neighbor's house... perhaps this summer I will borrow it and row along the lagoon here with Natalie.

I have been in limbo for a long time, and now I am in a place where I can settle in and breathe a bit. Please know that I am doing well. Simplicity is a good place to start. God is good. This Lenten season is healing. I am loved. I have a grateful heart. Life is good.

"Something Unpredictable, but in the end it's right...

2008-02-11T18:29:00.000-08:00

... I hope you had the time of your life. " -- Greenday

Funny how GreenDay was once one of those bands I frowned upon and how now I can so appreciate their talent.

Well, I'm moving. I have found a great little place on the water here on the Island. The kitchen windows look right out onto a small marina and ducks swim between the docks. Lapping water peacefully lulls one's thoughts, joining the water's gentle movements. Every room in the house looks out on something beautiful.

I'm living with a friend from work. I don't have much money of my own, and this friend has been gracious enough to take the bulk of the living expenses. I'm looking for a second job. Right now my hours are minimal, due to the slow winter months at the store. Jobs here are hard to come by in winter. I've applied at a local nursery... I think it would be lovely to be around flowers all the time.

This house represents the first real place I've had in about four months, so I'm really excited. It was hard to go into the old house and box things up, but it's part of the process. I'm going ahead with the divorce. I know that many of you don't understand, but it's time.

I have failed my marriage in more ways than I can enumerate, but I'm forgiving myself, moving closer to God than ever, and trusting that the people who love me most will also forgive me. I haven't meant to hurt anyone. I have been hurting for many years, and this is how I am choosing to end that pain.

I don't know what the future will hold, but I know I feel very hopeful and happy. I used to look at Christian couples who divorced and think, "How in the world??????" But no one can live anyone else's life.

I love you all. I will accept your pain. Please accept the pain that I have lived with too.

Thank you.

PS Sarah, what is your email address!? I'm so happy to hear from you!

New Years...

2008-01-17T14:03:00.000-08:00

Finally feeling as if I might have the energy to write again....

How many new years do we get in our lifetime, and what do we do with them? I think a lot of the previous years were not new at all. I think I was given old years. Recycled years. Cleverly repackaged years. Anything but new years. This year has all the indications of being new. It's still got the creases on it, fresh out of the box.

I'm still living at my folks' house. They're in Arizona for a few more months. It's winter here on the island; the daylight is weak and watery and the birds are expectant at the feeders. I was in Seattle this week and brought home some fresh flowers in riotous colors to brighten the table. Fushia Gerbera daisies, lavender stocks, lime green spider mums, orange tulips... all in a bright yellow pitcher. Just looking at it warms the heart with an idea that spring is probably coming sooner than we think.

I am joining a writer's group and taking some workshops. I'm getting back into running and hoping to do the Whidbey half marathon in April. I'm trying to remember to eat. I want to read some good books and do some spiritual introspection with Lent approaching. There are two books I'm planning to use as guides: Forty Days to a Closer Walk with God and A Clearing Season, both from the Upper Room Ministries. Feel free to join me and we'll have discussions about what we're reading.

Work is very helpful to me right now. I have wonderful people who come through my checkstand and bring me friendship and bits of news. It's also a place to give that gift I love to give: my smile. I will be aging more gracefully now, since all my wrinkles will be smile lines. Who can fault a smile line?

I'm hoping to get to New Jersey next month to see my little grandson again. He's four months old now and making his parents so happy! In that way he is just like his daddy. Jordan was always the joyful element in our home.

I'm still knitting. A cabled scarf for a dear friend; a cardigan for nephew Elliott; a small runner for my therapist from recycled Sari silk. Little pieces of sanity in a world that is often without quiet.

Peace to each of you in the new year... I do pray that you received a new year this time around. If not, make the best of it and be thankful it's not wasting space in a landfill somewhere. You're doing your part and everyone here on South Whidbey would be proud.

A Festavus for the Rest of Us...

2007-11-25T14:05:00.001-08:00

Natalie in her new Grinchy Green Sweater...

Well yes, it's been a while since I've updated.

Things have been difficult. Changes are being made. Struggles come with the territory. None of these things are fun topics on which to blog, so I have spared you the details.

Let's just say I'm on my own for a while. I'm back at my parent's house. I'll be here for a while. I'm in counseling, I'm working on my 'issues' and I'm confident that things will work out one way or another. I'll keep you posted. Thanks for your prayers, and for understanding my darker times.

This weekend I knit a sweater for Natalie in Grinchy Green. I ribbed the belly so it will hopefully fit more snugly there. Neither of us seem to have our appetites lately, so she's dropped a sweater size right along with me. That's a true friend.

Emily will be coming for Christmas; She's in Turkey until then and having the experience of a lifetime.

I'm working at the checkstands still. Meeting lots of very nice customers and keeping my smile burning brightly for them.

I saw something funny on one of the back roads here last week. There's a piece of property with two cows out front by the road. One morning on my way to work I see a man leaning over the fence petting a cow. No car nearby, no bus stop. Very random. But what made it noteworthy was the two-dozen long-stemmed red roses he had in his other arm... Was he courting this cow?? Or perhaps I had failed to recognize her for who she was: Miss Americow!

Nothing surprises me on Whidbey Island.

It's Organic...

2007-10-22T13:06:00.000-07:00

Working as a checker at a grocery store is fascinating.

The sheer number of personalities I interact with each day is staggering. Most are fairly predictable, but a few stand out. People's shopping habits are just as varied.

This island, which is a ferry ride north of Seattle, is a mecca for Liberals. They come in to my store with their cloth shopping bags so as not to contribute any more waste to the "already strained" environment.

But that's just the tip of the iceberg. The average Islander drives either a Prius or an ancient Subaru, has no fewer than three anti-Bush bumper stickers, and brings their dog with them everywhere. The dogs wear bandanas or hats. Their poop is scooped up into bio-degradable baggies. These folks fill their shopping carts with all-organic produce, canned goods, dairy, and bulk foods. But then they toss in Oreos and Lay's chips... and beer. Lots of beer. Micro brews.

The women don't wear makeup; they smell of Patchouli oil and they wear microfleece and wool in layers over long yoga outfits or prairie dresses. Their hand-knit socks peek out from their Birkenstock sandals, and their children are large-eyed and pale, like Precious Moments characters.

They buy organic dog food for crying out loud. Dogs lick their own butts... do we have to worry about what they eat?!

But it makes for interesting work, and challenging conversation in the two to four minutes they are within my 'sphere of reality'. I have nothing in common with their belief-systems, yet I am required (by the store and by my upbringing) to be "Nice". As I said, it's challenging at times.

I like it. I don't understand them, but I guess they have their charms.

The God Search

2007-10-14T08:35:00.000-07:00

I've recently been on a reading binge. As this is a luxury I've not enjoyed in quite some time, I've chosen my materials carefully. As I've been in a spiritual funk for several years now, I've chosen to branch out and taste bits and pieces of others' experiences.

The first title that caught my eye was Fleeing Fundamentalism: A Minister's Wife Examines Faith by Carlene Cross. The first part of the book excellently portrayed being a part of the evangelical movement in the late 70's and early 80's. Her life very nearly mirrors my own during that time as she immersed herself in fundamental Christianity, living with the fear and awe that we were in the End Times. I found her honesty and humor to be engaging. I felt a camaraderie in the fact that after doing everything "right" she also lost her Perfect Christian Husband to debauchery and sin. It's not a book I'd recommend, it delved into some pretty sad stuff and she ended up leaving her faith completely in the end, but it was a refresher course for me on the foundations of my faith and how the early evangelical movement shaped and formed my thinking at such an impressionable time.

In Confessions of an Amateur Believer by Patty Kirk I found a refreshingly edgy memoir about Christian living. We're all amateurs at faith, and while I wasn't looking for justification for my struggles, it was comforting to read such an honest portrayal of someone elses'. I would heartily recommend this book. Each short chapter winsomely presents the author's crisis of faith in some area of real life. It doesn't preach, it simply gives some much needed insight into God's patience with us as his children.

Finally, Eat, Pray, Love: One Woman's Search for Everything Across Italy, India, and Indonesian by Elizabeth Gilbert is the book I'm devouring at the moment. Go to the link, she's more than I can find words for. She's given me more to think about in the first 58 pages than any other book on faith. Her soul searching is in every way what I want my own to be...

Which is really what it comes down to: permission for my soul to search. There is so much from my early years in fundamentalism that tells me I have no right to search. That I must, instead, just believe without question. It's spiritual baggage, actually. You know how as adults we come to crisis points in our lives and look back and realize that we've been dragging stuff around that we never asked to have strapped to us? Well, in a sense that's where I am spiritually. I'm examining what I believe and why I believe it and is it authentic or is it something that was foisted upon me in the early years of faith and somehow it has blinded me to who God truly is?

I will keep you updated on the journey. I realize in my anger and frustration with Everything I Knew To Be True, I tossed God out with the bathwater. He's not One who likes to be tossed, but he's been patiently waiting for me to hand Him a towel and get back to the business of faith. I will see how that goes.

All that's New in Jersey

2007-10-07T15:39:00.000-07:00

Cape May is filled with Victorian homes boasting porches with rockers... we don't know whose porch this is, but we took a break from walking to 'sit a spell'.

This is one of about 50 shots taken while trying to get a good 'family photo'. Neither of the boys is very enthused. Mom looks great!

And here's the Bean. We're enjoying West Cape May's Lima Bean Festival... seriously.

It's been a great vacation!

Told you so.

2007-10-05T16:38:00.001-07:00

Look, Dianna. BIG FONT.

From the Jersey Shore

2007-10-02T08:55:00.000-07:00

So I'm here in New Jersey with the new little guy and his proud parents! It's what Grandmom's do in our family-- they come under the guise of Big Helper, but are secretly here to soak up some Grandbaby time.

Everyone's doing well. Jordan and Dianna have that dazed New Parent look about them, but are the best parents EVER. Micaiah is a content little guy who eats voraciously and then burps loudly in appreciation. He's so alert and so strong already! He impressed his pediatrician yesterday, wieghing in at 11 pounds! Not bad for 24 days. He's not a chubby baby though; he's the image of his daddy. A real Wee Bean!

New Jersey is lovely, although I wasn't prepared for the heat and humidity! I'm really enjoying my time here. Dianna lets me wait on her and the baby, which makes me so happy! And it's been a long time since I've been able to cook, bake, and knit my days away-- not to mention holding my special little one! It's a joy all around.

Jordan & Dianna share today as their birthday... Twenty three years ago today I was bringing my little guy into the world! As they say, time flies!

More photos to come!

Cutest Baby EVER...

2007-09-20T22:17:00.000-07:00

This little guy doesn't look at all like he's only two weeks old! I can already see he's a bundle of personality, just like Daddy & Mommy!

I get to fly out Monday to see him for two weeks. I don't think I'll be able to get enough him, or his parents, for that matter!

In other news, Emily is en route to South Africa for the next month! She got to take a side trip to Kathmandu, and while it was an insane adventure, I'm sure she wouldn't have missed it for the world. She'll be coming home for Christmas and looking forward to a little Home Time. It will be great to have her, even for a short while.

I'm changing jobs at the store where I work... meat cutting is great, but it's strenuous and I think it will be a bit too much on this old body as the years progress. I've said before I feel as if I'm living my life backwards; when I was young and strong I did nothing, but now that I'm older I'm lifting 60 pound boxes of meat and killing my hands and shoulders! It was a great experience. I'm going to be working as a Checker instead, which lends itself to my customer service skills. Hopefully I can work fewer hours so I can get some semblance of life back.

Mommy Loves the Bean

2007-09-17T16:48:00.002-07:00

I don't know how he came to be the Bean. Maybe because, unlike his son, he was a long, skinny string bean of a baby; not an extra ounce of fat on him his whole life. I only know that for years and years now he has been Beanie to us. When he got to be about twelve, and really cool-- the way only twelve year olds can be-- he became Beanie Dude. And he was always my Beanie Guy.

I found his name in a Baby Name Book at a book store in Ayer, Massachusetts. It was 1984 and the two Best Names for your boy that year were Jason and Joshua. Think about it. How many Jasons and Joshuas do you know who are in their twenties? Well, as I considered those two names, Lo and Behold, between the two of them was a fresh, exotic name: Jordan. Ah. Jordan Ray... yes, it had a certain flair to it, yet also a wholesomeness that would befit the family name. Jordan it was to be. If it was a girl. Emily was already a shoo-in, but more on that later.

Those were the "good old days" when you were left in suspense until the moment of delivery: "It's a .... well, it's a BOY! How about that!" And the moment was filled with this wonder and relief to finally know what it was you'd been blessed with. I don't begrudge anyone finding out ahead of time what they're having, I just think NOT knowing has it's charms. Of course my darling daughter (in-law) Dianna knew it should be that way too, and did not give in to the pressures of today's instant-gratification society and find out what she was having. Have I mentioned she's my Best Friend? Hmmm?

So this little guy comes into our lives and is the center of attention... yet never in a bad way. His pediatrician, when he was six months old, called him a "sociable little beastie" and, like Mary, I pondered it in my heart and knew it to be true. His blue eyes were always looking for merriment and adventure. He loved to smile and laugh. My dad, his Papa, would balance him on the palm of his hand at about three months, and parade him through the mall. Jordan was all smiles, and people would ooh and ahh and come up and talk to this little puppet-baby who looked for all the world like Joy incarnate. He loved to laugh. When he was 13-months he fished a used Q-tip out of the bathroom garbage, stuck it in his ear, and proudly pronounced, "Ta-DAH!" with arms outspread, and a smile that eclipsed the sun. It was my first hint at what lay ahead: Pure Happiness.

He was a little guy that loved to please. He loved to love. He loved to serve. I still have the sticky note that he brought on my coffee cup (he turned the pot on for me, poured the cup, and delivered it to my bedside on a school morning in first grade!) that says, 'I (heart) Mommy'. He was the sweetest Little Man. Always a gentleman. Always a servant. As he grew, and our family devoted itself to God, he was as passionate for God as he'd been for anything else in his life. Mission work became his passion, and serving God on the homefront was its own challenge for him.

We began praying for his future wife when he was about eight. I remember telling him, "There's a little girl out there somewhere that God's already chosen for you! Let's pray for her, and ask God to bless her life right now!" And this little guy, who had no interest in girls, listened as we prayed for not only salvation, protection, and purity for Dianna, but also the little details: That she would love her family, that she would desire purity, that she wouldn't date, that she'd desire to be a godly wife and mother, rather than a career woman. That she'd be homeschooled and and love missions... the list went on in my head, as I greedily asked God for so much more than I deserved to. And in the end, all through the teen years when girls were flocking to this handsome, godly young man, there was Dianna, six thousand miles away, growing in grace and godliness, waiting for the Only Man she would date: Her future husband! Have I mentioned she's my Best Friend?

Well, that's just a little bit of what's on my heart as I look at the photos of Micaiah Ray. He looks just like his dad... that's Jordan in this picture! I will get to see him soon... and just as my own mother, twenty three years ago, came off the plane with eyes only for that baby, I too, will soon drink in the sweetness of this blessing that is my grand baby. Little bits of me and everyone precious to me, all emanating from this precious bundle of Boy.

They say that you can only really know if you've done well as a parent when you see your children's children being raised in the admonition of the Lord. Well, we feel very blessed right now! This little man will grow up knowing that not only was God faithful to his Dad and Mom, but to his Grandparents, and to his Great-Grandparents.

May the blessing endure for all generations!

Micaiah Love

2007-09-14T23:52:00.000-07:00

Who can resist a newborn?! I cannot wait to hold this little One in my arms and whisper sweet granmommy things into his perfect little ears!

Sounds like they're all doing well. Just wanted to share some new photos from Dianna's folks. They're there for a couple weeks to help out and lavish attention on their first grandbaby too!

I'll be there on the 25th... can't wait!

Just seems like yesterday that we were bringing little Beanie home from the hospital. Back then there weren't infant carseats, just the big ones. He was slumped into it like a mini-bean bag in a La-Z-Boy and we kept looking into the backseat to see if he was for real.

I love how the Spangler boys always look like their daddies, but they keep their mommy's eyes, noses, and hair. Lucky for Micaiah he's got such beautiful parents to draw from!

Here's the Little Guy!

2007-09-12T14:19:00.000-07:00

Here's the first peek at Micaiah Ray! Born last Friday, 9/7 weighing in at 9 lbs 6 ozs! Good job Dianna! His Daddy looks very proud, and we're so happy to finally meet the Little Guy.

They're home now and doing well. Thanks for all your prayers and good wishes.

Stepping back from the edge?

2007-08-27T16:48:00.000-07:00

So thanks to all of you who thought I was on suicide watch... I'm feeling better now.

Our house is coming together a bit at a time. We've not been able to unpack much since the shipment that arrived was void of furniture. It was all boxes. Boxes of Stuff, but no shelves, tables, or furniture on which to set the Stuff.

The furniture comes Thursday, so that should help.

Things are going better. I'm not feeling so overwhelmed. Work is a bit hectic, as I'm putting in 48 hours a week. My muscles ache, but that's why we got the soaker tub, so who can really complain?

It's coming on fall here. My dog and I go for a short walk each morning at 6:30 so she can get the system out of her, as Jordan used to say. The leaves are beginning to fall, and some mornings are foggy and wonderfully cool. It's the perfect way to start the morning, trotting my chihuahua down the gravel road with a hot cup of Starbuck's Italian Roast in hand.

Then it's off to the world of meat. I believe I've been shown just about everything that concerns meat at least once. Repetition is now in order, and all these bits of knowledge will begin to come together as puzzle pieces in my repertoire of of talents. It's actually a pretty fun job. It's a bit like Michelangelo looking at a chunk of marble and seeing the Pieta somewhere just waiting to be defined... I can look at a chunk of meat and see many cuts just waiting to be created. And have I mentioned my muscles? Hoo Boy.

I work with really nice guys who are all patient and willing to give an apprentice a break. They readily admit to having made the same mistakes I make, which makes it easier to accept that perfection is elusive in this job. I get to spend a little time with customers, but not so much that they drive me crazy. I've been at it almost three months now, and I'm starting to feel more confident.

My darling Grandbaby is coming very soon... s/he's expected on the 5th of September, but hopefully-- for Mommy's sake-- will come sooner. Maybe Labor Day! How cute would that be?

Emily is back in Bombay this week for a conference. Then off to South Africa! I get to talk to her every few weeks, and she sounds great! Thanks for your prayers and support. Every bit of it is needed and appreciated. Check out her photos via the Chowder link at right, then her My Pictures link,

So, there you have it. I'm not going to jump off a bridge.

But thanks for caring!

Life, Interrupted

2007-08-11T20:11:00.000-07:00

this is not the cheeriest blog entry... it's not horribly sad, it's just deep. If you feel one more sad entry might push you over the edge, then for goodness' sake, please hit "next blog" up in the corner and move along.

We are in our new house. As soon as we get something other than dial-up--did you know it still existed? It does, if only for us, at least until our satellite dish gets hooked up next week-- I will post some photos.

Friday, a large truck pulled up and delivered 9,000 pounds of someone else's crap to our door. Oh, the boxes say 'Spangler' all over them-- actually a few say 'Strangler' and 'Sprangler', but we're used to that. It's our stuff, it's just nothing I want.

I've known for a while that when it came I was not going to want it. I have been threatening garage sales in which completely unopened boxes are sold to the first person waving a five-dollar bill. I rehearsed what I would say to the kids, "Sorry guys, but some stranger in Oak Harbor ended up with your baby pictures..." I wondered if they would really mind. I told myself they'd get over it.

But now it's all here. And it's more superfluous and crappy than ever. I don't know how to say this more plainly: I DO NOT WANT THIS CRAP. It does not belong to me. It belongs to someone I used to be and she and I aren't on speaking terms anymore. I asked her not to bother me, but now she's gone and sent me all her stuff... as if I could have any use for it.

But it's here. So yesterday I come home from nine grueling hours on my feet to a houseful of boxes. The labels are vague: Glassware, linens, kitchen. I pour a drink and try to ignore them. Get this: Nothing inside of me cares one iota what is in those boxes. Around seven, after I'd read the mail, had another drink, and watched my husband sleeping toward his graveyard shift, I opened a box that said 'pans'. The box was the size of my Scion xA. The contents took up one shelf on one cupboard. The paper filled the kitchen. I shoved the paper back in, moved the box to the other room and worked through four more boxes. The more boxes I unpacked, the higher the Garage Sale pile became. Final count: Eleven boxes unpacked, Seven boxes going to the Sale to End All Sales. There's Fiesta ware, Williams-sonoma baking dishes, fine china, and two dozen cookbooks. Yet unopened boxes will yield even more! It will be a marvelous sale. Nothing is coming back in the house, so what doesn't sell will be carted off to charity. Wait until I get the energy to tackle my craft room. Fabric? Who needs it. Yarn? Well, maybe a skein or two... who has time?

So this is what it comes down to: I have no emotional attachment to this house, nor to anything in it. In 24 years we moved 14 times. In all those other moves I had a reason to set up home and set it up quick: I had a family. My job was to be the best wife and mom I could be. Well, I just realized that I'm out of work. I don't have that job anymore. I really don't care how long it takes for the stinkin' house to get set up... no one's happiness depends on my getting this house in order. I'm not going to be here to enjoy it. I'm going to be leaving for work 6 days a week at 6:30am while my husband is coming off graveyard to sleep. At 4pm I'll make my way home to eat, do laundry, and catch up on my mail until it's time to send Kelly off to work and head to bed. This is not the life I asked for.

So as I unpack, and as I see things like colorful mugs that used to be filled with coffee for friends coming by to pray and talk and enjoy, or baking dishes that used to hold homemade goodies for my kids, or cheery colored dishes that just oozed charm... all I can think of is this: Make them all go away. That was then. This is now. I have no desire to have friends, much less entertain them. My children are grown and gone and I can't even take a flippin' few weeks off work to go see them when my grandbaby's born. I do not have time to bake or cook, nor do I have the desire.

Everything in these boxes can just sit here and rot.

It's beautiful house. It's just that I don't know who's living here. I used to have a purpose, now I just exist. I'm angry. It's not that this house is opulent. It's not that we're living above our means. It's a very reasonably prices house. It's that when the man decided to just walk away from the military last winter we weren't ready for that financially. I have my portion of the responsibility in his decision, but I'm not happy about the consequences. I like my job. I hate working. I like my house. I don't see a life here. I see a woman in my mirror. I do not know her.

There. That's why you haven't heard from me.

And the crack about the friends... well, it's not that I don't want you as a friend, you just wouldn't like me very much right now.

What is going on?

Blah.

2007-07-28T20:55:00.000-07:00

I just wanted to say that I am still alive. I'm just working a lot and I'm tired. We sign on our new house next week and all the last minute details are sucking up any 'free time' we have. But that's okay; once we're in our own place it will be such a relief.

Cutting meat, wrapping meat, stacking meat, grinding meat, traying meat, re-wrapping meat... not bad stuff, just physically demanding for my entire eight-hour shift. My body hurts.

Boo hoo poor me don't I sound like a brat???

Geesh. Sorry about that. More news later, and with a smile, I promise.

Knit, Run, Purl too!

2007-07-10T09:11:00.000-07:00

Well, I did it! I ran 13.1 mile and lived to tell about it. I guess what makes me the happiest is finishing the race after not having been able to train for the crucial four weeks leading up to it. I had hoped to finish with a 10-minute mile, and with full training I know I would have been there. Instead I took it slow and smart and finished with an 11-minute mile pace. I was still ahead of half the women in my age group, which gives me great incentive for the next race! I feel pretty good; the course was very hilly with the last half-mile being uphill to the finish line! Yikes! My legs are stiff, and my ankles are a bit crispy, but I did it! Yippee! There's no shortage of marathons and halfs here, so I'll be gearing up for the next one as soon as I get my legs back.

I'm also on the sticks again... There's a grandbaby coming in September and somebody needs to be knitting for him/her! This is a blanket and I'm making it up as I go... kind of like raising kids, right? It's in Berroco's Touche from my stash. Touche makes darling baby stuff; it's cotton with a bit of shine to it. I hope Baby Bean loves it!

And how about this pretty house of ours? This is the painted version, minus the third accent color. I can't wait to see it finished... because that will mean it's time to move in!!

Today I'm making jam. Tayberry Jam, a cross between logan berries and raspberries. It's a beautiful day here in the Northwest, with predictions for 90-degrees. I'm getting in and out of the kitchen early so I can enjoy some sun before heading back to work for the next week.

Is it Summer Yet?

2007-07-07T10:08:00.000-07:00

Washington is funny this way; Spring is lovely, June is soggy, and then all of a sudden, it's the Fourth of July and everyone realizes "Hey! We'd better get on this Summer Thing!" and everyone dons shorts and sandals and POOF! It's summer. 72-degrees might not seem like summer to you, but doggone it, it's downright blistering to us Islanders. In fact, I overheard a customer at my store complaining that it was "too hot to have the oven on!" as she grabbed one of our rotisserie chickens this week. I wondered how she would fare in Florida this time of year!

Mariner's baseball is the highlight of summer here in the Northwest. My nephew, my sister, Dad and I went to a game a few weeks ago and since they wupped Boston, it was a Real Good Game. We were so close to Ichiro that we could see his little face. We gladly lost our voices rooting for the Home Team. We're goofy like that. Good times. Cole took this shot of us. That's why my sister looks skeptical. She's not skeptical of the game, or of being seen with crazy people like me and my dad. The moose is for Nora, it does not signify that my father has to have a stuffed animal for comfort.

The other sign that summer is half over here and we almost missed it: Our house! It's really coming along and practically done, halelujah! In fact, this is an outdated picture already, since they've already painted inside and outside now and are laying flooring, etc this week. We hope to be into it by the first week of August. Woo Hoo!

We've been 'homeless' for so long now I wonder if I'll even remember half the stuff the movers bring. Looks like we're in for some more major downsizing. No More Clutter! That's my motto for life now.

For those of you keeping up with Emily, she's in Cambodia for a month now with YWAM. She called from Sydney on her 21st birthday to let me sing to her. That's Real Love if you've ever heard me sing-- har har. Please keep her in your thoughts and prayers as she ventures into the culture there to do her thing.

My race is tomorrow... and I'm going to run 13.1 miles even though I haven't run seriously in about 4 weeks. My shins are better, and I paid for the stinkin' t-shirt and I'm going to run. I may kill myself, but I'm doing it. More on that come Monday....

Ramblings...

2007-06-23T06:07:00.000-07:00

This is my dad and mom at the local Memorial Day service here on the island. Dad was the guest speaker and did a great job of honoring our military, both past and present, with his insight and wisdom. Ever the consummate soldier, I love the way his dress blues still fit almost 30 years after his retirement!

I have started my apprenticeship as a meat cutter and I have a new set of sore muscles to prove it! Heavy work, but incredibly interesting and very fast-paced. The inherent risk of being an apprentice is the propensity for failure. I am not fond of failing- betcha didn't know that, did you?! har har. So each day is also a lesson in humility. I want to be teachable. I don't want to let anyone down. I have much to learn, and two years should be an adequate amount of time in which to do it. So aside from my uncomfortable position living on the 'knife's edge', I think I will enjoy this new career. I look at meat much differently now. And for that matter, I look at it every day, all day.

Emily is leaving soon for her world-wide outreach with YWAM. She's been at the campus on Hawaii since March, but that doesn't seem so far away for some reason. Cambodia, India, and all the other continents seem a bit more extreme! When we said goodbye this spring it was with the sadness of parting, but the joy of what lie ahead for her. It's seeming more real this week. I'm not going to see that baby girl for a long, long time. My dad and I were talking about how homeschooling them 24/7 for 9 years often made him wonder if they would ever leave home at all and how it would affect me when they did. Then when they graduated, POOF! They both flew the nest and headed to opposite ends of our lives. And you probably remember how very much I missed them for the first few months, but the realization that these two little Ones of mine are living far beyond the dreams of most of their peers, and following their passion for God, has eclipsed any sadness I could have for missing them.

So to Beanie and Chowder: Mommy loves you! You are Best In The World!

So much technology...

2007-06-12T17:12:00.000-07:00

... so little understanding.

So I'm on Facebook now. If you're over 25 you've probably never heard of it. I have children who are under 25 so I'm in luck. Not that you might be missing anything, but personally I finally got to see my grandbaby (in tummy-o) by visiting Dianna's 'facebook'. It's a site full of people's 'walls'. You can write on their walls. You can 'poke' them. You can leave them messages. You can 'tag' them or yourself in pictures. It's virtual. That's all anyone really needs to know.

So here's my facebook: http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=738085639 Does that mean I'm the seven-hundred-thirty-eighth million and some-odd person to sign up? I feel absolutely cutting edge!

No running for the past six days. Shin splints. Or in today's correct vernacular: Medial Tibial Stress Syndrome. (It was only a matter of time before some type of stress overtook me.) Shin splints by any other name still means the same thing: No running for a while.

Four weeks to race day and I"m grounded. Ugh. But I'm going to play it smart and not over-do. My last long-run was 12 miles and I will be able to pull off 13.1 even if I don't run much between now and then. I am going to run my race. I am going to finish my race. I am not going to give up.

And everything else is about the same... house is good. Kids are good. My man is good. Life is good.

Now where's my icepack??

Alright, here's what's new...

2007-06-01T08:50:00.000-07:00

Holy Moly! Where did May go!? Sorry I've been so lazy about the blog. And for as busy as I've been there's not a whole lot to write about.

Our new house is really coming along; the roof goes on this week and then they'll start the insides of it. Right now it's just framed, but still so fun to walk through and imagine where everything will go. I've had a greate time choosing colors, carpets, counters, cabinets, etc. After living in government housing for so many years it's a pretty good time! Sometimes it's as much about knowing what you don't want as it is what you do. You know the feeling: If I ever get my own house I'll never have _____. And having lived in over a dozen homes over the years my list is quite detailed. Fortunately, our builder is a dear man who seems to exist only to please my every whim. Ahh, home-buyer's bliss.

On the running topic, guess who ran TWELVE MILES yesterday? Oh yes, that was me!! It's part of my training schedule, adding one mile to my long runs each week in addition to the other two four- to five-mile easy runs. Okay, I'll put "easy" in quotation marks so no one rolls their eyes out there. I'm just sayin', if you run eight and ten and twelve miles at a stretch, five miles suddenly seems like a pretty nice little jog. What most pleases me is that I've cut time off my runs like you wouldn't believe! On my last three-mile run I ran 9-minute miles. On this run yesterday I ran consecutive 10:30 miles for the whole twelve. I felt like a rock star! And all this from someone who's Real Old! tee hee.

And on the job front, guess who got promoted to meat-cutter apprentice? Oh! Me again! (It's really fun to have a blog so I can talk about ME ME ME... good grief. Sorry to sound so self-absorbed. We'll talk about someone else next time. Ha.) So, for two years I'll train as a meat-cutter (please don't call them butchers, those are the dudes that kill the animals. Icky poo.) I'm going to know all there is to know about butt steak, flank steak, ground beef, swiss steak, tripe, tongue, liver, heart, kidneys and brains. There's a song that follows, but you'll have to hear me sing that in person with my Sister. It's a hoot, don'tcha know. At the end of my apprenticeship I'll be making the Big Bucks and better still, I'll be Really Good With A Knife.

So who would have thought that a career in knitting would segue into working seafood and becoming a meat cutter? I am a Julie of All Trades. The best part is I'm having a real good time doing it.

Okay. So that's my update. Photos of the house to follow. I promise not to stay away so long again. Next time I'll tell you about all the liberal tree-huggers out here in the Northwest who despise any and every thing there is to despise.

Fives

2007-05-07T10:54:00.000-07:00

Okay, so this is rather trivial as far as blog entries go, but I thought it was interesting being as I discovered it only after the fact...

On the Fifth day of the Fifth month I ran Five miles is Fifty-five minutes and Fifty-five seconds.
That's 5 on 5/5 in 55:55.

Could have planned it, but it's kind of a nifty surprise when it just happens.

Simple pleasures for simple minds, I believe the saying goes.

A Dog and His Boy

2007-04-30T04:12:00.000-07:00

My brother is losing his Best Friend today. Patches the Wonder Dog has been his constant companion for a while now... I forgot to ask how long. You just don't think of one without the other, and that's what makes a friend so true.

Patches was on death row when Monte found him. He'd been living in a kennel for over a year and was going to be put down. So Monte, who has the smooshiest heart for animals took him home. He saved Patches' life, and then Patches returned the favor.

My brother has had a hard row to hoe for so many years now. Some of those hard rows were brought about by poor choices, others were mistaken turns, but through every painful chapter there was a buddy to lean on, someone to listen without judgement, to lick away tears and pain and anger and frustration. I don't know if my brother would have always chosen to try again if it weren't for the fact that his Best Friend was counting on him.

Patches lived the best Dog's Life a dog can live... except he didn't know he was a dog. He had human-like eyes, and the patience of a saint. He could say "home" and "Gramma". He ate anything you put in front of him and he loved Gramma for her willingness to do just that. He disliked bare floors-- so Gramma put a trail of throw rugs down for him so he could come in the kitchen. He tolerated little nieces and little chihuahuas and never so much as rolled his eyes. He sported red and blue stars on the Fourth of July and a Mariner's collar during baseball seaon. He was my brother's co-pilot, and could also fill in as a coffee table.

I think some dogs are just eager to give everything they have to their boy, and Monte was glad to have every bit of it. In that way, Patches must have felt so grateful: To have been loved so deeply for just being who he was.

He came down with something last week that stopped him eating-- BIG clue! The vet determined it's cancer and rather than let him continue to fall into worsening health, he'll go to sleep in his boy's arms later today and be in a place without pain. There's already a hole dug in the yard here at Gramma's house, a place he dearly loved to visit. He'll lay on the top of the hill overlooking the water and the woods. The hole in my brother's heart will not be so easy to fill, however. Losing a friend is never easy.

Thanks, Patches, for loving my brother in a way no one else could. You're a Good Boy.

Eight Mile

2007-04-27T00:05:00.000-07:00

Ran eight miles on Monday... in 88 minutes. Okay, that's an eleven-minute mile, but I was still pretty excited about it, especially since I've never run eight miles before! Woo Hoo!

Today I ran five... I'm a runnin' fool.

It's the mp3 player. I can do anything if I don't have to think about it. There's nothing like running hills around here to "Harder to Breathe" by John Mayer.

A little running humor there.

Anyone else out there running? Let's hear from you!

Foundations...

2007-04-21T10:17:00.000-07:00

So, we're building a house.

Owning a home is the American Dream, right? We would have been happy to buy a house, but this little beauty came along as a 'pre-sell', meaning the builder will begin his masterpiece as soon as someone agrees to pay for it. It was love at first site (get it?) and now our foundation has been poured and framing begins next week!

We're pretty excited. It's here on the island, on a wooded lane, just ten minutes from my little seafood job. It's a drive down the island and a ferry ride for the man, but he says it's worth that small sacrifice to have the island-style quality of life to come home to.

We get to choose colors and cabinets and carpets, oh my! It will be done the end of July and not a moment too soon. Our things have been in storage since December and I'm rather eager to see them all again in our new house.

It's our New Life... from the ground up. I'll keep you posted.

Ah, and on that note, I need to update you on my running! I've shaved my running time to just over ten minutes per mile... it was twelve minutes when I got here, with those killer hills and all! Our half-marathon is just a couple months away and I think it will be better than I'd anticipated. 13.1 miles... I'd love to run it in 131 minutes, but I'll listen to my body and we'll see how we do.

Colors

2007-04-16T04:31:00.000-07:00

One really amazing thing about living in the Northwest is how when spring comes you feel as if it's the first time you've ever experienced one.

That rain falls profusely here is no myth, however out of staters assume it must turn to snow in the winter. Not very often, although we did have a couple of storms this winter that turned our world white and brought life to a standstill. The norm, however, is that the days are gray and rainy and short. You leave for work in the dark, you get home in the dark, and for about eight hours in between it's light enough to see that it's raining... still. Or again. Which leaves everyone in a suspended sense of color-deprivation. It's gray outside. Some days it's dark gray, some days it works up to light gray. On rare occasion a glowing orb appears in the sky, and we turn squinting eyes upward and wonder at the sight. Mothers hold their babies tighter and old folks remember a thing called 'summer'.

Can you blame everyone for being caffeine addicts here? It's a legal addictive stimulant that fills in for vitamin-D and also keeps your hands warm.

So when flowers start popping up around here it's as magical as Dorothy opening her front door and stepping out into Oz. And suddenly they're everywhere! Daffodils, tulips, azaleas, and hyacinth spring up with color. Flats of flowers outside of every market. Cherry blossoms like frosting on wet branches. It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year!

It signals that you've made it through a long, cold, wet, gray winter and your reward is the sweetness of spring as you've never tasted it. Or perhaps you have... but this year with a new sense of appreciation.

Welcome back little flowers. You are a gift and your fresh little faces make us smile.

The Spife

2007-04-04T19:15:00.000-07:00

This may be the funniest comic I've ever read.

Seriously funny.

Whew!

Baby Love

2007-03-31T09:00:00.000-07:00

My brother and his bestfriend just had a baby...

This is Elliott.

I see many knitted treasures coming to Elliott in the future... I see sweaters and socks and hats and blankies.

What's not to love about a baby?

Running and running and running...

2007-03-24T08:53:00.000-07:00

This is a typical view around our Island.

So I signed up for the Seattle Seafair Half-Marathon coming up in July. My man and I are going to run it together. He's skeptical, but I'm already running 6 mile stretches, so what's another seven point two miles? It's very exciting to think about.

Running here is a great challenge, albeit a do-able challenge. The hills are the kicker. When I ran in Florida, it was long flat stretches with an occasional rolling hill tossed in for variety. Here, however, it's nothing but hills! I run a mile and a half downhill to the stop sign, then whip out my ropes and carabiners, chalk my hands and prepare for the grueling run back home! I'll have to get a photo and prove I'm not exaggerating.

But here's the clincher: I do it. It took me a few weeks to make it without having to stop on the middle of the hill for an oxygen break, but the first time I made it all the way back home without stopping, I knew I could do anything.

So I'm going to plan my attack on this half-marathon and run my way to a personal best at the ripe young age of 46. I'll let you all know how I'm progressing.

The Point System

2007-03-20T23:19:00.000-07:00

Alright, I know it's not right... but it's funny.

The Return to the Empty Nest

2007-03-15T09:58:00.000-07:00

So this is my little Wummie... I started calling her that when she was just born; she was my 'Woman-Child', her brother being my 'Man-Child'. Eventually it was shortened to 'Wummie' and it's stuck around for years. Twenty, to be exact.

Wummie is off to Kona this month to work and go to school at the University of the Nations. She'll be attending the lecture/class phase for a few months, then spend another two months in India and China. She's been globe-trotting since she was fourteen. Europe, Tanzania, India, Madagascar, and now off to Asia. So many experiences for One So Young.

This Woman-Child is one of my Best Friends. We didn't always see eye to eye, but she chose to respect and obey her Daddy and me, and now admits that we were Almost Always Right... at least I think that's what I heard her say. In any case, she never gave us anything but joy, even if it meant smiling through clenched teeth. The past year with her has been so amazing for our relationship. She's seen me through some hard times, held me when I cried, listened to me when I was frightened, and freshened my drink when I was parched. She's even been my designated driver on more than one occasion. What else could a Sad Mommy ask for?? Thanks, Chowdie! Oh, that's another nickname: Chowder. You see, Woman-Child was also shortened to Child at times, and then warped into Chy-old, and then Chowd, and then Chowder... and about ten variations of that. We're big into pet names in our family. I won't bore you with them. Let's just say none of us go by our real names.... EVER.

So, this is just a little entry to my Wummie. I miss her, but hopefully she is going to find the direction God wants her take for the next few years. Wherever that path leads, I know she'll always follow the bread crumbs back to Home and the Mommy who loves her so.

Knits & Pieces

2007-03-07T23:31:00.000-08:00

I'm finding some time and energy now for the things that keep me sane.

The first month or so of work left me drained at the end of each day. I've worked outside the home before, but never 40-plus hours a week at a job that is non-stop all day long! I barely had enough energy to eat and fall into bed and so I could get up and do it all again! But I'm finding my balance and working small measures of self-preservation into my days and nights.

I recently finished a sweater and quilt for a friend's first baby girl, Keira Bella. Her Mommy is all-girl, so I figured we better get Keira Bella off to a good start too. Hooray for Baby Girls! Pink is so yummy to work with!

I also finished a lace shawl, but that picture will have to wait. It's currently being blocked on the living room floor.

Today was sunny and about 50-degrees, so after work I took advantage of that little hiccup in the weather and went for a run. I ran for an hour... it was positively theraputic. Running here on the island is like watching a nature movie unfold before your eyes; Deer, birds, mossy glens, new flowers emerging, cherry blossoms on the trees, and the smell of wet, loamy soil.

No news yet on what our future holds here... all of that is still just out of reach. In the meantime I just keep selling fish, running, knitting, and piecing scraps into quilts. Once in a while the sun peeks through the clouds and reminds me of the bright hope that is tomorrow.

There's nothing like the Northwest...

2007-02-11T22:29:00.000-08:00

I spend over eight hours a day, six days a week inside a grocery store working the seafood counter.

I love my job. It's a great mix of interesting seafood, great display opportunities, delightful customers, and an exceptional work environment. I love going to work each morning. I look forward to each day. Not many folks can say that! I'm blessed.

I get a couple of breaks and half an hour for lunch each day. I usually try to get out of the store with it's flourescent lighting and seafood-on-ice chill. This afternoon when I ventured out the sun was it's pale, glorious self, peeking through a hazy cloud cover that typifies the Northwest this time of year. It had rained earlier, as is it's daily habit here also, and a soft breeze was bringing in the combined scent of fresh evergreens and salt water from the bay.

It brought to mind all the years of living in far-off places--both growing up as a military child and later, as a military wife--and never failing to be struck by the sweetness of fresh air when we returned home to Washington.

It's like the perfume of someone you've always loved-- memories rush in as the scent fills your nose. Walking to first grade after a morning rain... the worms on the sidewalk lying bloated and pink. You really wanted to help them, but ick! They were WORMS! Rain is a part of every memory here. It's trick or treating in soggy costumes. It's hoping for a white Christmas, but getting a gray one instead. It's finding all the Easter eggs on the lawn too easily because the rain washed all the dye off of them. It's hoping the sun will make an appearance on your wedding day. It's not washing your car for months at a time--what would be the point? But really, its so much more. It's fresh air every morning and a fresh outlook to go with it. Yesterdays get washed clean with the constant, soft showers. And sunshine burns if you get too much... so up here we get it in little bits so it's that much more precious.

I like it here very much. It's an old friend, this place. One who looks for your upturned face to smile into the rain.

Real Men Knit

2007-01-30T09:09:00.000-08:00

Well, while that Man O' Mine is awaiting employment, what better time than to get him on the sticks? If Yarn Boy can do it, so can Army Man.

After a starter project to get him in the groove of continental knitting, he was ready to take on something more: A sweater for the Pooper. Her little bald tummy gets a mite cold here in the Northwest, so she's never without a handmade warmer. This one is made from Lamb's Pride Superwash Bulky, in a lovely shade of red for February.

Man 0' Mine learned to pearl continental-- no small feat-- while tackling this ribbed sweater. The tummy portion has increases, so he learned to knit into the front and back of the stitch, which is why he did that panel in garter... can't take on too much at once. He even added a bit of seed stitch at the bottom, which was intended to be ribbed, but we call those surprises "Design Elements" right?

Anyway, to all you non-knitters all you have to know is how cute they are and how proud he is to have been so clever on the sticks. He's taking on a baby blanket next... and still hoping a job appears soon.

I'm working almost full time at the seafood counter at a local market. It's fun, but no knitting there! Ask me about fish, though! I'm getting to be pretty good at it.

Life changes, but it goes on...

Bleeding heart...

2007-01-19T09:48:00.000-08:00

So there's a yarn shop just up the road here on this Puget Sound island on which we live, and I don't know how I feel about it. The owner is very nice, but she's not a business-minded person, nor does she have any sense of presentation for her shop, nor does she have color-sense. The shop is a bit like going into the humane society of yarns. I want to divert her attention so I can scoop up as many skeins as I can carry and run like hell out of there!

That said, there aren't really any yarns there I would knit with. I just feel sorry for them. Does yarn have feelings? Do they know they're being mistreated? Do they shudder at their bin mates who are not anywhere near the same fiber content or complimentary color scheme? Sigh. Call me a bleeding heart for yarn... but not a RED HEART yarn if y'know what I mean.

So this very sweet, albeit not savvy, shop owner has asked me to teach some classes and knit some shop samples. One is this Noni bag:

which is not a bad bag, it's kind of fun... but she picked out the colors and they are NOT fun. I suggested a couple combinations, but she decided she liked her choices, even though in the same breath she said, "Color is NOT my thing!" Having known her for just over a week I could not bring myself to say, "But it's MY thing!" because I was raised right, which means never having to say what you really want to say. Sigh.

The colors are eggplant and ocean blue. I kid you not. They are not in the same family. The eggplant is warm, the blue is of the green family. It hurts to look at it. It also hurts to knit it... seriously, my wrist is starting to swell. It's a cable pattern that makes the lattice, and working with double strands somehow makes my wrist have to contort into an unnatural position.

I'm on round 21. I have to do 53 rounds to get to the top. Then there's the circular bottom. I won't tell you what handles she chose. I'm just going to quietly weep as I persevere through this project and then find reasons to never knit for her again.

The weather outside is frightful...

2007-01-16T20:22:00.000-08:00

...but we are having SOME FUN!!

This weekend was the highlight of my year thus far. I know it's only the 16th day of the year, but nevertheless I don't know if anything else is going to top what I did this Saturday in Seattle.

My cousin Tami (of the turned-Jew, liberal, Democrat, vegetarian persuasion) allowed me the privilege of doing a 'Clean Sweep' on what she loosely referred to as her "bedroom."

It only took 12 hours and it was so fabulous when we finished that we were both in awe of the transformation. I will post pictures so you can see the before and after. You don't want to see the during... that would be inappropriate for family viewing. Ha. In the end there was actually a carpeted floor, several chairs, tables, and a chaise lounge... and a bed! It's the best space ever now!

I have Swept a few houses now for friends and relatives and I'm thinking of going into the business. I can't imagine what someone would actually pay to have their life back in reasonable order, but I'm thinking it could be a lucrative effort.

So tell me what you think of the photos and any ideas on starting my own Clean Sweep business.

Oh, doesn't Knitty Bitty look frosty?
The weather here has been frightful!

Before the Sweep...

2007-01-16T19:29:00.000-08:00

This is Tami's room before we tackled it...

Don't be too hard on her, we all have challenging spaces! The important thing is that she was brave and beautiful enough to want to make it better!

It's a Dream Room Come True!

2007-01-16T19:13:00.000-08:00

Here is the Dream Room...

As you can see, we replaced icky flourescent lighting with lamps, thereby creating 'living areas' for her to enjoy. Now there are pockets of warmth that create her sleeping area, her sitting area, and her computer/sewing spaces.

We reduced her clutter by 100-percent and filled the spaces instead with her collections of art and antiques.

What a great way to start the New Year!

Entrelac Love

2007-01-08T12:52:00.000-08:00

It looks like basket-weave, it knits up quickly, it will amaze your mother!

It's none other than ENTRELAC!

And it has never been so much fun!

I'm using Noro's Blossom, color #19. It's perfectly suited for Entrelac, as it changes color at just the right intervals.

My favorite Yarn Guy (see Links) has the Danica Scarf on Knitty.com
Another site that will give you a step by step tutorial is
http://wolfandturtle.net/Yarnpath/index.php/Yarnpath/comments/all_aboard_the_entrelac_express/

When It Rains, We Pour

2007-01-07T15:39:00.000-08:00

Coffee... coffee... coffee...
On the eighth day God created Coffee!

Let me tell you all the wonderful things about being back in the Northwest:

1. Flannel sheets, five blankets, flannel jammies and you're still "just right"... not too hot, and never too cold.

2. Coffee. On every street corner, on every ferry, and in every store. And not this Maxwell house crap, either. REAL coffee. The kind that puts hair on your chest.

3. Rain. Blessed, cold, sideways-blown rain. It makes you feel alive! Not one pore of my body has released a bead of sweat since we've been here. Your senses are heightened, you feel the slap of fresh, cold air each time you step outside... it's fabulous!

4. Knitting. Yarn shops abound. Sitting in front of a fireplace, watching the rain pound the windows, and knowing that not only are you safe and warm... you are knitting with a purpose! No vain knits here, Nay! Every tenderly knitted glove will serve a purpose! Each sock will be a hero! Scarves are to be desired and cherished! Knitters here are elevated to a goddess-like status. Not bad for a lowly yarn artisan.

5. Food... oh man, more restaurants, cafes, bakeries, coffee-shops, and vendors than you can shake a fork at. You could eat out three times a day for a year and never hit the same place twice. And the food is amazing and so varied! All washed down with a hot cuppa joe. Oh yeahhhh.

6. Places to go, people to be... you can get in your car here (or on a bus or a train or a light-rail) and end up in the mountains playing in the snow or at the ocean digging clams or in downtown Seattle seeing an exhibit or at the Public Market on the waterfront or on a ferry just watching people. It's just not possible to be bored here.

7. Liberals. They're everywhere! It's crazy, but these people are just fun to watch. One birkenstock-clad woman had a bumper sticker that read: Earth is full-- Go Home. After you, lady. Or how about the job application I put in at a local low-brow eatery: The owner took one look at me and practically tossed my app in the garbage before I was even out the door. I was wearing make-up, you see. Oh, and carrying a leather bag. Oops. I was also smiling. Rats. There goes that job.

So these are just a few of the pleasures I'm enjoying since being home. Each day is brisk and wet and ripe with possibilities. I love it here. So good to be home.

Jersey Girls

2006-11-30T14:25:00.000-08:00

Just returned from a trip to see my Girl! Oh, and that little guy she married... what was his name?

Dianna is my daughter-in-law, but I call her my daughter and my friend because only outlaws should have inlaws, at least in my family. Now in my husband's family, inlaws should be avoided at all costs. But that's another blog. See www.takemymotherinlawplease.blogspot.com . Kidding.

Here's a picture of us at Michael's admiring the Caron Pounder... that's a pound of acrylic, my friend. Notice how Dianna is trying not to cut her fingers on it? Anything you make out of Caron one-hundred-percent-acrylic yarn is going to look sharp. Hell, it's going to BE sharp. Careful Dianna! (editor's note: We did not buy the Caron Pounder)

We enjoyed a week of sweat-shop knitting, good food, serious shopping, and chick-flicks. It was just like old times when Dianna lived with us. I miss her. She kept me fed, clothed, and honest.

Well, Christmas is coming and I have all my shopping done. Yes, it's true. But the reason is less than romantic: Our packers and movers come in three days and after a whirlwind packout, clearing, 3200-mile drive, and one short ferry ride, we'll be sliding into the holidays on Whidbey Island on the 20th of December. I decided I would like to arrive in the Santa-esque style: With all gifts ready to give! It's the best Christmas ever since I don't have to bake, decorate, plan, cook, or host! I can rest my face for the entire holiday and just enjoy it.

I'm knitting a few things for the most 'well deserving' of my clan. The longer I knit the more discerning I become on who is 'knit-worthy'. You know who you are.

I will most likely be out of touch for a few weeks until we get up to Seattle, but watch for me when I return from the dark side of the skein...

Momma is a Yarn Ho?

2006-11-06T11:06:00.000-08:00

I'm just sayin'...

I have a heckuva lot of yarn. What's that about? I like to think that I'm not some crazy yarnaholic, but the truth is dark and unpleasant.

I'm a yarn-hoard... more commonly known as a Yarn Ho... because Yarn Hoard is too long? Hm.

I'm cleaning out my sewing room in prepartion for The Big Move to Seattle next month. I call it a sewing room because it has a Bernina on the table... um, underneath a few layers of yarn and knitted goods. I used to sew. I used to quilt... um, I used to cook. I used to read. I used to talk to my neighbors. I used to clean my house. I used to alphabetize my spices for crying out loud!

And now?

Well, now I knit.

Going through the archeological dig I call my Yarn Stash reminds me of quite a few things. Like how I used to be enamoured of green yarn for instance. Or that I actually purchased 12 balls of Rowan Cotton 4-ply and planned to knit a garment! On that note, how about the other 1200 balls of yarn I apparently traded my paychecks for with the intention of cleverly making them up into something other than what they are... namely, balls of yarn? I'm going to have to do something to remedy that.

I'm sure that once I'm out of the knitting loop I'll turn my gaze homeward and remember the yarn of my youth... working in a yarn store is cloying. It keeps you abreast of all the new yarns, but never lets you finish a project before you're lured by the Siren's Song of yet another new yarn! It's a conspiracy, I tell you! I'm weak. My needles are willing but my resolve is weak... or is it just my memory? I honestly had forgotten I had so many aspirations for these fibers! Can I blame old age?

So I'm hoping that this move will help me refocus on the good things I have at home: namely about $2,000 worth of yarn that seemed like a good idea at the time.

Help me, Obi Knit-One Kenobi, you're my only hope?

Witch Geisha?

2006-11-06T10:07:00.000-08:00

Ellen and Julie and their Halloween Ghoultinis!

And why not?

2006-10-11T03:50:00.000-07:00

What's sexier than a woman with sticks?

Crazy Day at the LYS

2006-10-11T02:37:00.000-07:00

I worked by myself Tuesday at Unwind. The morning started off fairly steady, but for some reason every woman through the door was a crocheter, and a back-woods hick to boot!

Two of them came in together and judging from their twang and their vocabulary they were right off the set of Deliverance. They were crabby. Their only comment on the new and beautiful store was "oh it's all changed 'round". They complained at the lack of crochet books, so I dug out every single booklet I could find on afghans for them-- 15 in all. Not a bad selection, really, since ALL CROCHET AFGHANS ARE ALIKE. Geez.

They took those to the table and proceeded to comment on each afghan. Apparently they had made all of them at some point or another in their crabby little lives and each one had a story. Here's my favorite:

"Ah made this'n fer Louella's baby and she took'n gave it away!"
"Nah!'
"S'True!"
"Hmph."
"An' you done made this'n fer Purdy, dinya?"
"Yup. But she din' 'preciate it none. Wisht I'd ne'er g'in it to 'er"
"Wull, go take it back! Don't matter if'n it is yer sister 'n-law, slap the bitch down!"

I wish I was making this up. I truly do. They then went on to talk about how much better the prices were at Wal-mart & JoAnn's, and finally left their mess of books on the table and mosied out without so much as a kiss my a**.

Hope they find what they're looking for... it's tough when your family tree doesn't fork.

What are you knitting?

2006-10-08T08:21:00.000-07:00

I have been scolded for my lack of entries, but I have to plead innocent! Our computer was fried in a recent lightning storm and I was wallowing around in the mire of non-technology. I've found my way to a new computer and happily so. What did we do before internet? I never thought I'd be asking myself that!

I love the question "What are you knitting?" It comes up frequently in my job at the yarn shop.

Well, I'm working on just a few projects... a cardigan for my niece in cornflower blue RYC Cashsoft Baby DK, a pullover for my nephew in denim-colored Rowan Summer Tweed, a felted bag for my Mom's birthday, a cardigan for myself out of an exotic yarn I purchased from Seattle's Tricoter last spring, Sally Melville's Wavy Stripes pullover in Louet Sales' Opal, and a never-ending pullover out of Cascade's Fixation. Hmm. Actually I'm kind of relieved that that's all there is! The mountain of yarn in my sewing room belies the fact that I'm feeling pretty caught up at the moment. I could feasibly not buy yarn for five years and still have enough projects to keep me busy for the duration... but why in the name of all that's holy would I do THAT? Silly.

I tell customers all the time, "There's no small print on the receipt that says you have to finish one project before you buy yarn for another!" Part of what gets knitters through the tedious portions of some projects is the idea of something new. Creativity can feel a bit starved when you're on the five thousandth stitch of a twenty-five thousand stitch sweater! You've got to toss it a bone in there, let it know that this isn't all there is! Working several projects simultaneously is also a way to enjoy varying levels of difficulty... you cannot have a conversation while knitting most lace patterns, so rather than be a hermit until it's done, you have a 'no brainer' project going on at the same time.

I love our yarn shop. The ladies who meet there to knit are a mix of everything that makes women so special. As we enjoy each other's company and help each other out our hearts are truly knit together also. I'll miss these friends... but I take them with me, knit right into the projects I've made sitting at the table with them. If I hold my sweater close enough I think I can hear Sara laughing! And isn't that a bit of Ginny in the seed stitch edging?

I guess what I'm really knitting is a lifetime of memories... now that's an heirloom!

Visit our shop! www.unwindwithyarn.com

Alter-knit reality

2006-09-11T06:28:00.000-07:00

"It is finished."

Not only powerful words from the Cross, but also to every knitter who has ever labored a hundred-plus hours on a sweater.

I just finished a shop sample from Rowan's mag #40: "Parker" in Tapestry. (see http://www.gotyarn.com/detail.cfm?ID=2763 )

Inevitably, knitting a sweater becomes a love-hate relationship. You LOVE the yarn!
"I MUST KNIT SOMETHING WITH IT!!" you squeal, plunking 9 balls of it onto the counter at your LYS. And so the saga begins...

Day One: You're practically casting on at stoplights all the way home just to get it started. Dinner goes by the wayside, your family sorting through leftovers like homeless people. You almost miss an episode of LOST being so caught up in the newness of this love! But that would be crazy. No one misses an episode of LOST just to knit. You pride yourself on staying connected with reality.

Day Two: Twelve straight hours of knitting and the back is almost done! You've shaped the armholes and you're on the downhill stretch... of the first of 6 pieces. Six? Hmm. Oh well, you still LOVE the yarn! You're thrilled to see how it's knitting up even more beautifully than you could have imagined. Your family has switched to auto-pilot, knowing better than to bother you when you're counting decreases.

Day Three: Reality sneaks up on you when you realize that after finishing the back, every other piece of this sweater will have a matching piece with reversed shapings. It's like giving birth to twins, or realizing that you'll have to knit a second sock. You don't just get the joy of making one... you get to make an identical one that is not... identical. You suck it up and cast on both front pieces on one needle with two balls of yarn. You feel a bit anxious about the probability of tangling these yarns, but you pour a mixed drink and press on.

Day Four: Rip out both fronts when you realize whatever you were drinking clouded your ability to knit. Explain to hungry family that you spent your food money on yarn... and that it could be worse-- you could be sitting in a bar somewhere throwing it all away. Shut up and let me knit!

Day Eight: You've been reduced to a sweat shop knitter. Days off are spent in your pajamas with copious amounts of coffee and whatever food you can find in the fridge. You wonder why there's no food in the fridge, and then push that thought away as you realize you haven't cooked in a week. The Sweater has become the Sweater From Hell. It sucks the life from you... it lurks in your knitting bag like an animal. You dream in yarn, and wake up in a cold sweat, certain that you've knit your neck edge decreases incorrectly. Your daughter asks if you have a recipe calling for tomato paste and dryer lint... she's willing to try anything if it means she can eat.

Day Ten: Your family has begun leaving notes for you... what family? who are these people? Your eyes are sunken, your fingers atrophied in the Knitter's Claw. You think your missing chihuahua might be trapped under the laundry pile, but you don't have time to pursue it. Must knit... MUST KNIT.

Day Thirteen: Sleeves... why does it always end with sleeves?! Not one, but TWO! Two identical sleeves... sleeves that start small and then increase! It's got to have been some misogynistic bastard who added the first sleeves to a knitted garment! It's madness!

Day Sixteen: The last of the knitting is in sight. You hate this yarn. HATE IT... as in NEVER WANT TO SEE IT AGAIN! But it's got you now. You must knit on. Burning the oil well into the wee hours, you cast off ...tomorrow is another day. Your husband startles as you collapse into bed... he checks the framed photo of the two of you on his bedside table against the shell of a woman pretending to be his wife. Too tired to argue with a stranger, he lets you sleep.

Day Seventeen: Blocking. Oh sure. Take an entire table, cover it with towels, pin the pieces of sweater down and mist them, steam them, cajole them, scream at them, beg them to lie flat. Vow that you never want to see this yarn again. EVER. Go find your chihuahua.

Day Eighteen: Seaming. Isn't it enough to have knit 10,001 tiny stitches? Now they have to be seamed together? There is no joy in Knit Town tonight. Weep softly, humming negro spirituals such as Roll Righ By 'Dem Purly Gates, and Pass Me Knit, O Gentle Savior.

Day Nineteen: "Behold, I saw a knitted garment in all its glory, and it was a fearful and awesome thing!" As you weave in the last of your ends and gather your needles and notes, you reflect on the miracle of knitting. Like all things worthwhile and glorious, it has taken you to the end of yourself and back. It's brought you to desperation but allowed you to return to glory! You marvel at the 10,001-plus stitches and think of all the things your mind and soul were contemplating while you ticked off the hours on your needles. You put the sweater on and it hugs you back.

Much like the birthing process, you have brought this sweater from conception to fruition and it has been painfully rewarding. And also like childbirth, the memory of the pain immediately begins to slip away...

Is that a yarn catalog in the mailbox? Wow! I LOVE that new yarn...

Shish-ka-dog?

2006-09-06T22:11:00.000-07:00

This is rather an alarming picture, isn't it? I don't believe any dogs were harmed in the making of this cover, and I have never personally used double point needles to knit a dog sweater.

It's this sort of thing that gives knitters a bad name... now where's my chihuahua?

Knitty Bitty Sweaters

2006-09-06T17:32:00.000-07:00

Here's a teeny-tiny sweater I made this weekend. It's a teeny-tiny shop sample of Rowan's Denim yarn. It fades just like real jeans. I can't wait to make my own not-so-teeny sweater with it.

I had so much fun knitting this up! It went together in an afternoon... I'm going to make more, because it's so fun to say, "Yeah, I made a sweater this weekend..." and have people be completely jealous. Tee Hee.

If you'd like the pattern, just email me!

Knitting on the beach? Absolutely.

Hey Grampa, What's for Supper?!

2006-09-06T17:09:00.000-07:00

Here's my Waffle House Breakfast! YUMMM, YUM!

Southern Hospitality-- Waffle House Style!

2006-09-06T08:21:00.000-07:00

Labor Day weekend and the livin' is queasy!

My man and I headed out for breakfast at the local Waffle House, the Starbucks of restaurants in the south. You get the same breakfast every time no matter which WH you visit. It's like a diner. The entertainment value alone is worth the $2.98 breakfast sets you back.

It's claim to fame is, of course, waffles. I'm not a waffle gal, so I ordered their second best menu item: Hashbrowns! They come scattered, smattered, chopped, whopped, cropped, beaten and bronzed just to name a few options ... I have no idea what most of those mean, but I ordered mine scattered, chopped, chunked & peppered. It was hashbrown heaven! After dumping a bowl of grits onto my scrambled eggs and eating that concoction on white bread (I forwent the grape jelly) I ploughed into my spuds. Now this is NOT the South Beach diet I so strictly adhere to. This is the Girl-You-In-The-South-Now-Honey diet. It's a part of All-Carb Sundays that six days of eating like a good girl gets you. We live for All-Carb Sundays. "On the Seventh Day, God ate potatoes."

From Republican to Independent...

2006-09-03T19:32:00.000-07:00

If you've found me from threeleftsmakearight.blogspot.com, welcome!
Tami and I will keep up our blog... I think! Hopefully Tami's schedule will allow her to write more in the future. Right now she's masterminding a coup to take over Macy's. Can't get in the way of that!

I'd like to share some of my knitting and sewing projects with you, as well as babble on occasionally about the things that catch my interest. Hopefully you'll enjoy the time with me.

Thanks for visiting!