Just a Diabetic Knitting Self Storage Manager

About the Knit

2012-01-23T01:48:00.000-08:00

Photo is 21st day of Sky Scarf. For those of you paying attention to that.

I've been giving a lot of thought to knitting and it's value and importance to me. I suppose it's like a lot of crafts that a person could pick up. Why didn't I crochet, or cross stitch, or (bohemian 'hippie' that I've been called) macrame? I do still have that 5 gallon bucket of beads to play with too.

I told you before that my mom was a crocheter. It has it's place, I do crochet at times. I prefer blankets that are meant for warmth to be crochet. I have serious hotpads in the kitchen ~ those are crochet. It could be that in my youth to choose my own path, to stray from my mom I deliberately opted for knitting as different from my mom's craft. I don't remember thinking that way about it. She had knitted once upon a time, there's a picture of my brother in an argyle pullover somewhere to prove it. There's an on-going discussion on Ravelry over the choice to knit or crochet.

Knitting creates a finer fabric. If you look closely at it, there are rows of UUUUUUUU to a knitted fabric. Crochet makes a denser fabric, close examination and person experience of the stitches show the thread looped around and pulled through to differentiate between each stitch, making the knitted U's more delicate by comparison. Really, knitting is only one stitch. First you learn the knit stitch. Then you learn to knit it backwards, which then becomes a purl, but if you turned your work around, you'd see the purling is really knitted from the other side. So you knit, frontways and backways, knit an purl. You can change the color, the order of the stitches, decrease a few, add a few, drop a few deliberately accidently on-purpose, thosands of stitches later you have... something.

I do remember thinking about how precise knitting is. When I was in high school, they were just starting to look at computer programming as a topic to teach. (Pay attention: this is the Star Trek: Next Generation portion of this post.) The first thing I looked at was binary code. Binary is computer language, a language of 1's and 0's. 0000111110000011111. How fun is that. But it's precise, like knitting is. If you were to look at knit and purls like 1's and 0's, they are very similar. It can be mind numbing, if you're not doing something interesting once in a while like a cable, or lacework, or changing a color.

So, after a time, the mind starts to move on while the hands are repeating the same motion again and again. My husband finds me often sitting at the computer, playing with my Nintendo DS, texting on the cell phone with double pointed needles and sock yarn in a whir of motion in my hands. He used to be amazed, now he just starts taking things away, saying I hog all the electronics (not really fair as I did leave him the remote and let him sleep) but he never takes the knitting.

But without the electronics, you can get obsessed with what your working on. Usually, I'm knitting for someone else. I don't usually keep anything I knit for myself. I believe it got to be that way because the project was TOO well known to me, I knew everything that was wrong with it and not enough about it was right to be as perfect as it was precise. Having been there through every last stitch, perhaps I was just fatigued with it by the time I cast off. When it's for someone else, every stitch becomes a wish: Wish the color is right, wish it fits them well, wish it keeps them warm, wish they became aware how beautiful they always were, wish they knew how much they were thought of with each stitch, for their happiness, their health, the joy of being thought of THAT much.

With that much thought, one can only set themselves up for disappointment in the recipient. The Yarn Harlot, Stephanie Pearl-McPhee wrote a post around Christmas time about the proper way to receive a handcrafted item, even if you don't know what it is. Here is the link if you missed it: it's quite funny and applies to any gift to be received, in my opinion but if you don't want your favorite knitter hero to risk their needles on your eyeballs, it might be a good idea to remember this post:

http://www.yarnharlot.ca/blog/archives/2011/12/24/merry_christmas.html

There are some tactless people who have only ever received one handcrafted gift and wonder why it never happened again, just as there are people who go through life behaving as if they were dropped on their heads as babies and never behave without stupidity.

However, I think I've given away enough of my projects not to really be too interested in what they think at the moment they received it. After all, couldn't it be that what they received is just an example of the depth to which we are loved, and when confronted with that without notice, who CAN wax elequently enough? For example: My Dear Lord God, when I think about how wonderfully I'm made and how much thought you must have given to creating me and those things that make my life enjoyable and me happy.... Well, I'm overwhelmed and beyond speechless and thankfulness cannot be adequately expressed. After all, this isn't a gold statue at an showy awards show, this is real. So is my knitting.

When I knit and I'm beyond the point for the Health, Fit and Loved parts of the brain, I roll around to the good I'm doing in the world. For awhile, I've caused no disturbance to humanity, I've not indulged in anything that dulls what is real, I've allowed time to pass and at the end of time I've made a pair of socks to keep toes warm that are deep down in the boots, hands warm enough to wiggle a text, warmth to the electrons of the brain functioning, a shawl to wrap around and know it was really a hug for the hard days, a cape to twirl about and make the last dance never end, my favorite dogs keep walking with their heads high and tail wagging.

I think what it gives me, especially in the dark days of winter ~ is mostly a crystal clear HOPE! I can focus on something good to come if I just keep working at it.

Middle of January

2012-01-13T13:32:00.000-08:00

I have been knitting. Trying to keep my head above water, I've realized I have an excessive amount of Works In Progress (better known to Ravelers as WIP's).

# 1. Majority of my time recently has been spent on a sweater for Superman. It is made with recycled yarn from a sweater by Banana Republic. Fine Italian Merino. It chills me to think I'm knitting with something so fine, but if it hadn't been recycled and available from my favorite little shop of wonders, I wouldn't get to do this at all.

# 2. I realized I have a skein of MadelineTosh sock yarn. It was received in a package I got from a Purple Swap participated in two years ago. I think I forgot I had it because I went to Sock Summit I at about the same time and I was high on some kind of beautiful fiber overload. I started a little shawlette with it to take to a local knitters meet-up (more about that in a moment). The pattern is a knitted triangle, from the center of the long side, and should take just the one skein. I hope.# 3. The Sky Scarf, mentioned in the last post.

# 4. Sock yarn raglan of my own design, of Red Heart Heart & Sole, that I found at a dollar store not to long after we moved here.

# 5. Inspired by an article in Knitters Universe, for which I've received a free subscription after meeting Benjamin Levisay at Sock Summit II and having my picture posted on FaceBook by him in my sweater I knitted from their big K100 edition (because he's so cool he recognized it and named the pattern), YAY!, I've been making i-cord and knitting a chunky sweater. The spool of fine thread was gi-Normous and, amazingly, I'm thinking I may not get to finish what I'd planned on it, so I've come to a standstill on that.

But it's still sitting here bugging me and I'm blogging to ignore it.

#6 to infinity: Numerous other projects got packed in the move and have not yet been rediscovered.

There's a little shop that moved closer to my location (or to me!) here that I've been attending Thursday knit nights. FUZZ is located in Eagle, Idaho. It was in downtown Boise, but I still am struggling with finding my way around and from the passenger seat of the truck as Superman zooms past everything, I had yet to find it. One of the co-owners has been telling us that business is different in the new location. For instance, most of the shop visitors in the old location were morning shoppers and in the new it's become later in the afternoon. So far the knitting group is small, usually less than a half dozen.

Just this week I connected with another group that I've been following through Ravelry since before we moved under Treasure Valley Area Knitters, who are unaffiliated with any one shop. The moderator sets a specific place and each week they show up to a different spot, sometimes it's a coffee shop, a couple weeks ago it was a new Spaghetti Factory, this week's location was a Brew/Pub & Grill called Sockeye. (Funny story: a few weeks after we first got here, I noticed a sign out front that said 'Socktober' and assumed it was a knitting shop. Silly knitter self just assumes EVERYTHING is a knit shop!) Those gathered seemed to be mostly transplants to the area like myself, mostly in the medical profession, and varying skill levels of course. A sweet couple of young ladies across from me told me there are not usually any fiber or knitting related events in this area to look forward to (oh, Wail!) and that they're headed to the Columbia Gorge Fiber Festival. I've not been to that event, but I'm sure it will be wonderful, so maybe I will at least hear all about it at some point.

Anyway, all of these projects are in my Ravelry profile, if you are on there. I've been keeping that fairly well updated. Blog you soon!

January 1

2012-01-01T16:03:00.000-08:00

All of last year kind of got away from me.

Things that happened for us where some exciting adventures in knitting, like Seattle Mariner's Stitch n Pitch, Sock Summit II, a Yarn Crawl and the first time I've participated in WWKiP day. (World Wide Knit in Public)

Lots of music events and new friends to meet... like every week!

Also, personally, there was one really big change, a move with a new job.

Some losses: We lost our little Maggie after we got to the new place. (This is one of the last pictures we took of her, on the last adventure away from the house, she's on the left.) That was so very sad for a long time, so eventually we consoled ourselves that we'd brought her home for a few weeks before she was gone and got another rescue pup, Joey.

He's kind of his daddy's boy already. They often nap in this fashion and Joey doesn't care much for being parted from him.

We do still walk as often as we can. The last few weeks have been mostly around the property we manage in the mornings and at the warmest part of the day in the late afternoon. On our days off we load the dogs into the truck and go over to a pathway next to the river. The dogs always know when we are going and get pretty excited.

I've been pretty busy knitting and think I may be connecting with a new knitting group here. New to them, too, because the store was moved and apparently if they had a group there, it didn't come with to the new location.

So, a few days ago I received a package from the home knitting group. It included a few balls and instructions to construct a Sky Scarf. (Here's the website: www.leafcutterdesigns.com/projects/conceptknit.html ) The idea is to take a moment and look out at the weather, particularly the type of sky, and knit two rows of a scarf to match.

Challenges for me: Well, two rows ~ That takes incredible restraint. Also, blue being the least favored of my personal choices for colors.

So, this means for 2012, I will be charting the skies above my new home. Looking up is a positive thing. Here is the cast on and two rows today, knit to resemble the clear blue of this morning and the cotton ball clouds with it. This does not match the sky of this afternoon, which is that first picture at the top there, when we went to walk on our pathway. Earlier was more textural anyway...

Hoping you're safe, well & warm and the next calendar year brings us all more to look up and see than last year.

A Tale of Two Socks

2011-10-18T12:32:00.000-07:00

I think I may have told you my nephew is in the Army.

When he was first deployed I made him a pair of wool socks and a helmet liner.

http://www.citizensam.org/html/patterns/knitting_instructions_helmetliner.html

This is the link, to the pattern which is a charity project. I have made a few, to participate in the charity, before I knew my nephew was going. The wool socks were the basic ones I've always made, so don't know if there is a pattern for them. I think I've posted my disorganized notes about them here sometime ago....

Anyway, when he was home on leave last May, he said that he'd shrunk the socks, somehow didn't realize what 100% wool meant, and his helmet liner was MIA. (He loaned it to a friend when he wasn't on duty and his friend was injured and taken to hospital.) He's since got it back.

So the first thing Auntie(Me) does is pick up the yarn to replace the helmet liner, fairly easy for me to find, and start shopping for better sock choices.

Right about that time, Cascade Yarns released a Superwash Sock yarn. I'd read about it but it wasn't what I wanted. Cascade Yarns 220 Superwash Worsted is the yarn requested by the Military for the helmet liner, you'll see that in the pattern. I made the first one with that because I didn't want him to have it confiscated if it wasn't up to snuff. The first pair of socks I made were intended to be worn in layers and in boots so I didn't think it would matter.

It's seems difficult to find sock yarns that are not an ombre or varigated, or something a MAN would want to wear. Although these yarns are beautiful and really fun to knit up, I can't imagine a soldier not being teased without mercy for donning self-striping socks. Really, without making this a political statement, I would prefer for all military personnel to be using/wearing American made products. Somehow it just seems wrong not to. So if I make something to send for personal use, I would have preferred it be American made.

Not too many weeks later, Cascade 220 Superwash Sport showed up at the same yarn store as I had purchased what I needed for the helmet liner. So, I picked up a skein of the black. (MSRP is $7 for 100gms and 220 yds or 200 meters.) It's content is 100% merino wool from Peru, very soft to work with, but not very tightly wound. The fabric it creates is sprungy (not sure if that's a word, but that's the best I can describe it). I tried toe-up but it was painful. Top down seemed easier. I ended up with one in each direction for the pair, nobody else could tell the difference.

(In fact, this was the socks I was working on at both the Seattle Mariner's Stitch & Pitch and while walking around at Sock Summit II.)

I mentioned at that same shop that I knew Brown Sheep Company marketed their yarns as 'American Made'. When they also produced a washable sock yarn, I hoped to try it also. I was extremely happy to see it when it appeared in the same shop! I immediately pick up two skeins (comes in 50gms, I paid $6.20 had a discount but I've seen it at a few websites for closer to $5) to make a second pair without question. This was exactly what I had wanted. I also like the idea that he would have two pairs. About this time I learned he'd gotten the first helmet liner back, so he would have two of those also.

Brown Sheep's sock yarn is called WildFoote Luxury Sock Yarn, is 75% Washable wool and Nylon. The wool type is not specified, but I have to assume it's sheep, as the company's name. Seems to have great stitch definition and stretch, but it's not soft on the hands. It creates a crunchy fabric, but when I washed it and rinsed with hair conditioner (as a friend recommends, makes sense as the wool fiber is a hair also) both socks are equally soft. In fact after washing and laying flat to dry, or blocking, both pairs of socks seem soft and the stitches are smooth.

I think if it's up to me and the yarn is available to me (as I mentioned in my last post, I've moved) Cascade Yarns makes a great product, but I would prefer my projects be American made fibers as they are knitted by one. Just seems to be more logical that way.
(The last picture is after blocking. The one at the top is before blocking, the black sock at the far right is toe up and the other is top down, the same as the pair in grey.)

Hiatus

2011-09-13T16:03:00.000-07:00

I have to apologize if you've been waiting for a new post from me. We just moved 450 miles away and I haven't been connected to the internet at the new place yet. In fact, I'm sitting at the library between my husband who's on the next computer listening to all his favorite bands from back home and a couple of students who are working on their homework. I think that's what they're doing... Anyway, I needed to clear out my e-mail and pay a couple of bills, but stopped by to keep you updated. Hope all is well, you've picked up your needles for winter knitting and you've winterized your storage (all the yarn stash is in rubber totes with snug lids) and I will post again soon. Summer was busy, I have lots to share, tons of pics to load... Be back soon.

Note To A Friend, Woman to Man

2011-08-28T07:07:00.000-07:00

Note to Mr. Man:

Last night, you put your arm around my shoulder and asked me what to do about your love life.

It felt like more than a desire to have someone for the night, so that had a profound effect on me, like you are looking for the permanent one. I think, too, you may have thought I've heard everything being said about you and know all your business. I have taken a vow against gossip and maliciousness, so, unless you told me something or I've seen something, I don't know anything about what you're going through.

I wish it was a simple answer, how to find THE ONE. I've laid awake all night wondering what I could have said that would have been beneficial. At the moment, I can't remember what I did say. It seemed funny to me that you would ask ME of all people, and I'm pretty sure my answer is not the same as you would have with your friends in the locker room. But, at the same time, it's not the 'chick flick' answer either. At least I don't think so. I don't believe in fairy tales, so this isn't going to be the fake, romance answer.

In your chosen profession, there is a lot that is fake. Personally, I'm not a fan of fake. From the little I know about you, you're not either. If you were, you would be drinking all the time, until fake looks good. You don't seem to want your senses dulled, though, you seem to want to know things for what they are.

That will probably do you the most good, honestly. Recognizing things for what they really are will be the tool that protects you most. You have to realize the sweet thing with the bedroom eyes may not be the companion for life. Of course, if she's attempting to attract you with the fake nails, hair, boob-job, whatever, she may not love herself as she really is for you to begin to appreciate who she really is either. Whoever she is, you'll know her because you have all the right tools to recognize her.

The first tool that you have that I know of is your music. The right companion is the one that hopes for you to do the thing you love even more than you do. When you play and you are enjoying yourself, you get this really relaxed look on your face that says you are in the zone. It has a smile, too, when you make contact with someone else who is in the zone too. The person that supports you wants more of that for you and will be helping you to get it, even so far as to try to help you carry your equipment, regardless of the length of her nails are the height of her heels.

Additionally, you'll know her because she has treasured every kind thing you've ever said to her. You won't be able to find her based on her looks at all: She could be tall, short, toothpick thin or carry a little extra jiggle. She will be listening to you, without waiting for an opening to put in her next statement. She wants to know all of your truth. In fact, when you've told her the truth from the depth of your soul, she will have tears of joy in her eyes.

The second tool you have has always been with you. She's your mom. I'm not saying ask her opinion, that will come later. Your whole life you have spent putting a smile on her face. The one you want to see is the one that tilts back and basks in the joy of being in your presence. All that practice on your mom will come in very handy now.

My hope is that this didn't sound like it was from your mom, although I think I would have told this to a son. I hope it sounds like it came from a friend. I wish you well on your search my friend. My regret is that I won't be here to see it.

Seattle Mariners Stitch & Pitch 2011 ~ Nicky Epstein

2011-07-15T16:13:00.000-07:00

(This is the current project, by the way, nearly half done by game time.)
This was some unique artwork as we enterred the stadium. Made of license plates and bottle caps ~ excellent use of recycled materials!

At the Seattle Mariner's Stitch & Pitch they brought in Nicky Epstein, who is a well-known author of books both knitting and crochet to throw out the first pitch. Here's her website:

http://nickyepstein.com/

and here is her Goodreads profile if you'd like to learn about all the books she's written.

http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/55574.Nicky_Epstein

I learned she can throw a ball moderately well, with style and grace...
She was available for book signing and I brought my copy of the most fun knitting book (in my opinion) for her to do so. She thought my pink Sharpie very appropriate, and let me take a picture with her.

PS: If you looked at her list of books, her baseball glove having been embellished should be no surprise...
The brown knitted piece there is a sample from a book she is currently promoting, Knitting Block by Block.

I was not aware that there was such a thing as Mariner's Kennel corn. Not sure I want to know where they grow blue or green popcorn, but there you go. The Crowd to the left of me....

Jokers to the rightHere I am

Stuck in the middle with you.....

I hope where ever you are, that if you got to the Stitch & Pitch near you that you had as much fun as I did. Although, the fun I had may be hard to top...

Friday, June 10th

2011-06-10T13:42:00.000-07:00

On this date, multiple decades ago, I graduated from High School.

Really have no thoughts about that, except that it wasn't the life changing event I thought it would be at the time, I was relieved to finally get out from under the thumb of people who really didn't care to do more than just their jobs. In striking contrast to one of my relatives who is retiring today from teaching after nearly thirty years, who is truly sad to leave.

My only thought about my current situation regarding high school is how to get Classmates.com to stop spamming me about the reunion this summer.

Anyway, hope you are have a great month. Making any plans for summer?

Friday, June 3rd.

2011-06-04T00:52:00.001-07:00

Very often a change of self is needed more than a change of scene. - A. C. Benson. And sometimes a change of undies. Put on your big girl panties and have a great Friday!

Friday, May 27th

2011-05-27T15:54:00.000-07:00

I love criticism just so long as it's unqualified praise. - Noel Coward. Nah, praise is just fine with me. One of the voices in my head is already pretty critical. His buddy is OCD. Regular party goin' on in there, unfortunately it messes with my knitting... Rip, rip, rip.

Wednesday, May 25th

2011-05-25T09:58:00.001-07:00

The world is round so that friendship may encircle it. - Pierre Teilhard de Chardin. Huh... I thought it was to throw off the aim of the bad guys... Guess that's what I get for thinking again.

Tuesday, May 24th

2011-05-24T12:13:00.001-07:00

You cannot do only one thing. - Garrett Hardin. Well, I don't know. I can knit and read while I'm listening to a baseball game and watching for customers coming to visit, but I seem to have trouble with walking and chewing gum...

Saturday, May 21st

2011-05-22T00:03:00.001-07:00

Enthusiasm moves the world. - Arthur Balfour. I wonder which auto maker makes an 'Enthusiasm' car and what kind of gas mileage it gets. Really, though, it sounds more solar powered...

Friday, May 20th

2011-05-20T11:04:00.000-07:00

There can't be a crisis next week. My schedule is already full. - Henry A. Kissinger. Next week, I hope to attract something beautiful to my adventures so your crisis won't be my problem.

Recipe: Red Beans & Rice

2011-05-10T13:35:00.001-07:00

(Originally posted for my daughter, thought I'd posted it here already but I can't find it... It is a family favorite. We don't make it authentic, please don't complain that it's not, I try to make it more Northwest style. It is usually too much for just us, but we like taking a big frozen chunk of it camping, especially at the beach.)

RED BEANS & RICE

1 pound of dry red kidney beans

2 quarts of cold water

1 meaty ham bone or thick slice of raw ham, cut into cubes

1/2 pound hot sausage, thick sliced

1 bunch of scallions, including green tops

1 green pepper

2 stalks of celery

3 medium sized onions

Large pince of ground thyme

4 bay leaves

cayenne pepper or tabasco sauce

salt, pepper & white rice (not instant)

NOW: what I get: OK, the beans, the water. You can find a pound of ham cubed up at Wal*mart Supercenter for $2.50 it will save you some prep time. I have been using a roll of Jimmy Dean sausage instead of the hot. It does come hot, but last time it was too hot. Green onions, never have found scallions. If they are the same price you can try the colored peppers, they are sweeter, and make prettier batch of beans. You'll have to get a jar a peanut butter for the rest of the celery, cause two stalks is two STICKS. This last batch I used one giant onion because the bags all had moldy bulbs. Don't forget the thyme and BAY LEAVES. Salt and Tabasco sauce for pepper. I'll tell you how to make the rice too, hang in there.

Recipe says: Rinse Kidney beans twice discard any that look bad. (if you buy premium beans - none of them look bad.) Put beans in a big heavy pot at least 3 quarts (4 quarts is best). Add Water, ham & sausage. Set uncovered on a burner at medium heat. While the beans are soaking & warming, chop and add scallions, green peppers, celery and onions. Then add thyme and bay leaves.

When the mixture boils, reduce heat and cover. Stir every 20-30 minutes for 3 hours. Then, with a wooden spoon, mash about one-fourth of the beans against the side of the pot. If they don't mash easily, try again after an hour. (I don't own a wooden spoon yet, today and in the past I used a mixer. Once I tried a blender... don't recommend that!) Forty minutes after mashing the beans, taste and season with cayenne pepper or tabasco sauce. Don't use too much, this is supposed to be delicious but subtly flavored. (I just give Michael the tabasco sauce when we serve it up.) Cook for another half an hour, while preparing rice.

OK. NOW FOR YOUR MOM'S PERFECT RICE. Put the amount of water equal to the amount of cooked rice in you want in the saucepan. For example, if you want 4 cups of rice (enough for four people and seconds) four cups of water. I put a heaping tablespoon of butter and one cube of chicken boullion for each cup of water of water, plus one more cube. When the water is boilling, turn it down to simmer and stir in 1/2 cup of rice for each cup of water. Put the lid on and SET THE TIMER FOR 20 MINUTES. Do not check it or lift the lid for any reason till the timer goes off. When it does, your rice should be fluffy.

Back to Recipe: It's hard to believe, but all the vegetables cook away to nothing. The mashed beans thicken the sauce to a creamy consistency. It's even more flavorful rewarmed after a night in the refridgerator.

Mom says: Freeze some of it for later. Don't make too much rice so you have fresh rice every time you warm it up.

Dori, March 2011

2011-04-02T10:11:00.000-07:00

I wanted to write about Dori's progress in March, because that was the two year anniversary of the Humane Society rescuing her. But I realized I don't have much to say. She's made progress since then, little by little, and I haven't really anything to add to what I've already posted. So, here's a picture of her on our new sofa. I took this while Daddy was talking to her, I thought she looked so pretty.

If you ever wondered about our other dog, Maggie, yes she's around and spunky. She just hates it whenever we pick up the camera, so the majority of the pictures we get of her are of her behind! In fact, just at this moment, I picked up the camera to take the disc out to download this picture of Dori, and Maggie's high-tailed it out of here, upstairs, to go back to bed. One of the old 'Tarzan' movies is on the TV and Dori's trying to figure out why that box in the middle of the room keeps screaming....

Anyway, the sun is out, hope April means spring is on the way.

What is love? New things learned

2011-03-18T14:33:00.000-07:00

There used to be quite a long list of things I knew of, but did not know, as in 'had firsthand knowledge of, or experience with'.

I knew that as humans, we are created with the capabilities to love, and we require love to be stable, well-rounded members of society. I also knew that along with that come feelings of being cherished, and cared-for along with contentment. My faith taught me that in a balanced marriage is the experience of teamwork, beyond knowing the end of each other's sentences, which means that because you are truly together, the scope of what can be done extends beyond the ability of your own household to stand firmly. It benefits your extended family and friends, then the community and the world at large.

Four years ago, I met my husband. Until that moment, I knew the damage that people could do to each other, to hurt and hinder and break another down. I knew it to such a degree that to love someone would be a mistake on my part, to trust another I didn't think I was capable of, to be loved I was undeserving of and even the security of a friendship was non-existent.

It is not a cliche to say to have a friend, you must be a friend. Friends are people you can lean on when the times are hard, trust with your secrets, feel the truth of their compliments and critiques. To be a friend, you must be dependable, trustworthy and truthful. For self preservation, these days you must reserve these things for those deserving. With the ability to be a friend comes the open space that love needs. Love must have open air-space, good soil for growth and the warmth of the sun cannot be hidden. The ability to have a good time can be done in the dark, in the dirt, with the fertilizer (manure), but will wither in the warmth of the sun if it was not genuine and natural, or capable of real peace, joy or love. The Gardening references are appropriate because they require work on the part of our inner self.

To be loved continues on: We, in our inner self, must be lovable. We know we are lovable if we can love ourselves. With that comes, self-trust or self reliance, our inner truths, independence.

I did not have that. For a long time, I thought I was strong, but I waited. I thought I was strong because I could wait. But wait too long and everything inside you eventually breaks down, sooner than later, because it wasn't strong enough to begin with. So, really, I was only strong enough as the others I depended on, who I could not trust or rely on, to take care of me. By that I mean myself, first, then anybody else.

So, when I met him four years ago, there was not much going on inside me. I was empty, devoid of faith in myself or anyone else, scarred to a degree that must have been visible to total strangers, having reached the point of giving up and proceeded beyond it, searching for happiness, joy, sunlight, a place to belong but believing with absolute conviction that searching was pointless and a waste of effort if surviving was all I could do.

I kept all that inside without sharing until he demonstrated that was where he was too. His opinions were mine, but he was still confident enough to voice them, I'd given up finding a friend who cared to hear what I was trying to say. We admired the same things, had similar likes, dislikes, at the same food and drank the same stuff (he just drank more Coca-cola than I do), listened to the same music (his stations are more set, where mine are everywhere that's not sitting still), understood each other and both of us appreciated the strengths of the other.

It became quickly evident they way we complimented each other, too. He will jump in and do something at the moment he realizes something needs done, where I will attempt to figure out how to tip-toe around a problem so that can be fixed with causing additional problems. Sometimes the answer is his way, and sometimes it's mine. He's learning to do things my way, and I'm enjoying the pleasure of doing things his way, too.

I'm learning a lot. With the chemistry in a couple, I'm learning nothing can beat they way we fit each other, heart, soul or hand in hand. Where I fail to do something for myself, he sees my failure and takes care of it, as if it were easy, no thought needed, nothing to it. If I can find a way to put a smile on his face, my reward is instant recognition for my effort, gratification of instant gratitude.

Here's something he won't want to hear, but it's my blog, so I can say it: The other day, I was reading about Jesus and how he was such a good man. He was gentle and caring, could exhibit such strength and determination, yet still be moved to cry. I realized as I was reading about him that I can, NOW, believe a man could be that way. Sure, Jesus is the son of God, and because of that he had the ability to be a good man, but I now know a mortal man who is gentle and caring and can exhibit strength and determination and still be moved to cry.

As his wife, he is a hero to me. In my heart and in my head, Superman is the name ~ in love ~ I will call when I need him. Every moment I need him and I call him.

I've learned you can have someone close to your heart, who will move heaven and earth not to hurt you or let you be hurt by others, who can take your simple truths and make them a beautiful, appreciated drop of water in the desert. It is possible to do more for others, while not always financially, because you have had something done for you. I know, now, is why there are so many love songs. Some are silly, like Paul McCartney said, because sometimes you feel like you've been inflated with helium, but sometimes they are really beautiful. There is no way to express what being loved really, totally feels like, but to keep trying is the only way to get close to the truth.

Four years ago, I never would have thought this possible. But tomorrow, I find some other little thing is a blessing. And the next day, there will be another. And the next day... And the next day...

Thank you!

2011-03-16T13:27:00.000-07:00

I just wanted to leave a brief note to say thanks to all the new people that have stopped by my blog. The counter, right over there, was at about 500 for, well, forever, and just recently flew to over 2,000 views. It may be because of the new free pattern I posted and, if so, I would like to say, it's free because I'm not tech savvy enough to post a price on it yet: I hope in my heart of hearts that it inspires you to give or donate something for someone who needs you. This originally was created for sale in a local shop, and the proceeds collected (amazingly to me there were proceeds collected) are going to the Humane Society where a few little sweet pets that I personally know came from, but there are so many places we could all send our happy thoughts and the few dollars we can muster. Japan and the Red Cross are probably the greatest areas of need in our thoughts at the moment. My hope is that this becomes a small pay-it-forward wish. That would be my wish and for what you can do, you have my Thanks.

FREE PATTERN: Announcing HRH, The Queen

2011-03-09T18:13:00.001-08:00

Wynona Studio’s Cowl for the Portland Yarn Crawl 2011, used Recycled 50% alpaca & 50% wool from Peru in a DK weight that they have in stock in an Amethyst purple color, they’ve named Bubble Yum Grape Bubble Gum. Yardage used estimated at between 130 to 140 yards, with a Size 7, 16” circular needle. The measurements, because of the close fitting ribbed pattern, is a stretchy 15” around and about 7” long. It is created with a picot cast on at the top, worked down through the body using braided ribs, a leaf border around the bottom is knit-on for a seamless piece that may be a challenge for an intermediate knitter, as two-stitch cabling is used that does not require a cable needle and a little bit of lacework. Fifteen 10mm pearl buttons were added at the base of every other leaf, but that is completely optional.

Terms used.
K=Knit
P=Purl
TR=Knit the second stitch on left needle at the front, knit the first stitch and draw off both, twisting right.
TL=Knit the second stitch on left needle at the back, knit the first stitch and draw off both, twisting left.
YO=Yarn Over
KFB=Knit in front AND back of stitch. This makes two stitches from one.
K2tog=Knit two stitches together. Left slanting decrease.
SSK=Slip two stitches as if to knit, then knit them together. Right slanting decrease.
Slip1-K2tog-PSSO= Slip first, SSK the next two, then slip the first over the decrease. This decreases two stitches over center knit stitch.

GAUGE: 24 rows & 26 stitches to 4”.

PATTERN:
Picot Cast-on Edge:
Cast on 5 stitches. Sample was slip-knot cast on.
Bind off 2 stitches. Continue until there are 90 stitches on needle. Join, careful not to twist.

Garter border: Place marker to indicate end of row. Work garter stitch for 5 rows: Knit one row, purl one row, knit one row, purl one row, knit one row.

Ribbed Cowl body: Work following pattern for 10 stitches, repeating 8 times. Should be 90 stitches throughout.

Row 1: P1, K3, P1, TR twice, K1.
Row 2: P1, TR, K1, P1, K1, TL twice.
Row 3: P1, K3, P1, TR twice, K1.
Row 4: P1, K1, TL, P1, K1, TL twice.

Repeat this pattern for desired length. Sample worked from cast-on edge for 5 inches.

Leaf border: Sample’s border was knitted on. Remove row marker.
Cast on 7, using provisional method. Method used here was the ‘E’ cast on. Knit one row, back to edge of work.
Row 1: (right side) K1, P1, K1, YO, K1, YO, K3. ~ 9 stitches.
Row 2: K1, P6, KFB, K2tog with one stitch off work. ~ 10 stitches.
Row 3: K1, P2, K2, YO, K1, YO, K4. ~ 12 stitches.
Row 4: K1, P8, KFB, K1, K2tog with one stitch off work. ~13 stitches.
Row 5: K1, P3, K3, YO, K1, YO, K5. ~ 15 stitches.
Row 6: K1, P10, KFB, K2, K2tog with one stitch off work. ~16 stitches.
Row 7: K1, P4, K4, YO, K1, YO, K6. ~ 18 stitches.
Row 8: K1, P12, KFB, K3, K2tog with one stitch of work. ~ 19 stitches.
Row 9: K1, P5, K2tog, K8, SSK, K1. ~ 17 stitches.
Row 10: K1, P10, KFB, K4, K2tog with one stitch of work. ~18 stitches.
Row 11: K1, P6, K2tog, K5, SSK, K2. ~ 16 stitches.
Row 12: K1, P8, KFB, K2, P1, K2, K2tog with one stitch of work. ~17 stitches.
Row 13: K1, P1, K1, P5, K2tog, K3, SSK, K2. ~ 15 stitches.
Row 14: K1, P6, KFB, K4, P1, K1, K2tog with one stitch of work. ~16 stitches.
Row 15: K1, P1, K1, P5, K2tog, K1, SSK, K2. ~ 13 stitches.
Row 16: K1, P4, KFB, K4, P1, K1, K2tog with one stitch of work. ~ 14 stitches.
Row 17: K1, P1, K1, P6, slip1-k2tog-psso, K2. ~ 12 stitches.
Row 18: P2tog, continue binding off the next 5 stitches purl-wise (total 5 stitches cast-off), P3, K1, K2tog with one stitch of work. ~ 7 stitches.

REPEAT THESE 18 ROWS around body of work 9 more times. Without having to make any adjustments, you should have 10 leaves, cut yarn at end of last row long enough to weave end of last leaf with beginning of first. Should flair a bit, as you’ve knitted two rows to each stitch from body of work.

The leaf pattern is a heavily modified version of Ms. Barbara Walker’s ‘Tulip-Leaf Edging’ in her book A Second Treasury of Knitting Patterns (1970).

3/10 A reader already found a mistake and sent me a message on Ravelry! Thanks, Noni, the KL was actually supposed to be TL. Fixed it.

Work space

2011-03-08T21:11:00.000-08:00

I was going to blog about last weekend's local Yarn Crawl, which is a sponsored event where several yarn or otherwise fiber-y outlets get involved to put in a little extra effort to attract new visitors. The 'Crawl' part is definitely a derivative of PUB CRAWL and is probably only applicable in that, by overindulging, you become intoxicated with all kinds of nummy stuff. I was going to tell you all about that adventure but, silly me, I left the house that morning with something to knit with but without the camera. That and I did not visit half of the shops envolved and don't want to be biased in the little storytelling. Well, maybe next year for that one.

Of the shops I did visit I noticed a few things. Since this was a sponsored event of a specific yarn vendor, lots of the stops had repeatedly the same brands of wooly goodies, but the variety of color was just that ~ a variety. Some were quite large, some were little holes in the wall, some so tidy that I would have felt somewhat uncomfortable to sit and work at something and some had very homey little gathering areas. Visitors and shophelpers alike were smiley and giggly, high on some kind of creative-sugar-drugs-intoxicant and I saw lots of money spent at the majority of these places. . .

So, all in all, I have faith that it was a good event for the shops involved. However, one was completely different and off your beaten path. I hope to re-direct your feet.

Some very young people may not recall, but way back when, a couple of years ago, when children grew up and moved away, the rooms that used to be the place they dreamed, schemed or pouted, practiced smiling, styling and profiling until perfection for public consumption, became the new private areas for their parents where they could now do the things they wanted. Sometimes a new office, sometimes a new workout room, sometimes a new hobby but always the place a parent had for years imagined what they would get to do with that new reclaimed space in their home that they have paid the mortgage for but hadn't really ventured into since the initial move-in date.

Occasionally, that space became mother's sewing room. My mom had, while we were all still at home growing up, a corner of her room where she sewed. It had a sewing machine in a corner that folded down and tucked into a cabinet that had drawers with implements of unspeakable torture, or so your brother may have thought. My brother was often accused of taking the scissors and using them as screwdrivers, which is possible because that's what happened to a lot of the butter knives in the kitchen. Near all this wonderment may have been several baskets or boxes of yarn for her various crochet projects. A few books, lots of dress patterns, gadgets for the sewing machine, works in progress, unfinished projects, forgotten disasters. It was in this corner that I found a knitting instruction book and a pair of green plastic knitting needles and learned a lesson that has kept me company for the majority of my life ~ through anything and anywhere, to knit has been my comfort, my joy, my stress reliever and my anguish.

I'm sure my mom thought that once the space cleared up, she could gather all the boxes, baskets, jars of buttons and tubs of zippers into a new place and her bedroom become the elegant resting spot of the magazines. Mothers today don't have that luxury, I think, because extra space is not often affordable. It seems most people are learning to be content with enough living space to live and everything that can't fit into storage by IKEA is beyond affordability. It's either that or have your family members all stay in one spot for generations, all together, and forfeit privacy and creativity.

One of the stops on this last weekend's Yarn Crawl may be the new age answer to that. Wynona Studios, located in Downtown Oregon City, Oregon, is a very large shop, and completely unique to all the other shops. There is no virgin yarn to purchase. In fact, really, it's not a yarn store although it could answer that need for some. This Wonderland is where a lot of ideas could find fruition. Let's say you had a pair of pants that the hem has come undone on, but you don't have a Singer Sewing machine set up in the non-existent spare room. So, the pair of pants goes into a spot to be done with someday. Let's also add your daughters favorite dress that fit in Pre-school but not in Kindergarten. How about that sweater that grandma sent for a gift which promptly went out to play with your little Mr. Baseball, and became home-plate, acquiring a nasty hole in an inconvenient place and you're not sure now what to do with? Doesn't your husband have some old rock-n-roll t-shirts he'll never wear on the golf course? What if you took that ever-growing accumulation to a place where, for a low membership fee each month, your inventive thoughts could run amok and all of those things could be mended, fixed, re-created, or just plain recycled into something new, wonderful and completely usable once again?

Wynona Studios is, quite literally, the room you thought you would gain when your kids moved out. JJ, with her mom Linda and her high-school daughter Emma, took Great-grandma Wynona's personal stash of wonders and opened a large space with several work stations for all kinds of fun. Lots of little wonders can be found right near the door which include yarn RECYCLED from thrift store finds, local fiber that can be spun and some that has, lots of little goodies and do-dads that have to be touched, admired and taken home. There's a fireplace with comfy chairs and a large screen TV above just for fun but surrounded by a better collection of craft books than my local library has. JJ's current knitting project can probably be found near a chair there. Emma has become quite a proficient at spinning with drop spindles, but there is a couple of spinning wheels there she could use if she could be pinned to one spot. Linda supervises from the back of the shop over several sewing machines of different kinds, from the simple to the more technologically advanced. On the walls are the projects visitors have finished and become proud of, shelves of quilting supplies and odds and ends to complete any and every sewing need. There are often racks of drying wool, recently cashmere, moist completed projects are blocked and drying, a child's play area ~ after all, Mommy's playing, so is little sister and baby brother. The shop is protected by a very little patient dog, Wilson, aka Willie, a Japanese Chin mix from the Humane Society, who waits for someone to sit in his favorite chair so he can hop into their lap and examine them up close and if they pass inspection, take a nap in their lap. Lots of wonderful displays of things, little sheep figures on the mantel above the fireplace, there is also two window displays next to the front doors that change often with the seasons, JJ's personal stash of pretty sock yarn are displayed in the coffee table like a rainbow of wool from around the world.

I'm sure their Grandma Wynona would feel at home there, I know my grandmother would have been. My Grandfather, too, could have brought some of the quilts he entered into contests for cash prizes in his youth when his money was hard-won and too infrequent. I hope to take my mom there someday, I'm sure she'll tell me stories of some of her crafting adventures, where she doesn't venture much anymore due to her failing eyesight. Someday, I may take my daughter so she can see that a cherished item can be salvaged and made new, different and unique, just like she is.

You can stop by there too. Check out the class schedule. Let JJ plan a crafty party for you and your friends. Sit near me on the brocade chairs while I knit and tell me where you've been, I've missed you, but I'd love to see your smiling face, and my challenge will be to make you laugh till we get our fill.

(This was the window display at Wynona Studios last November: knitted turkey, rolls, corn on the cob, etc. Not 2007, didn't realize the date stamp had been turned on. . . )

Learning new things

2011-02-04T00:19:00.001-08:00

Sometimes a new beginning is a chance for us all to learn a new thing.

Take, for instance, babies.

When I was about 14 or 15 years old, the lady I babysat for had her fourth child. At the time, I was pretty attached to her family. The lady was a very kind and patient person, her husband was likewise laid back. They had three kids, an elementary school girl, next a brother then a very shy little sister. I wish I had time to tell you more about little sister. Maybe another day.

Anyway, along comes child number Four. She had the brightest red hair from birth on, pale skin and green-green eyes. I had never met anybody until then with the colorings of 'Anne of Green Gables' before, I thought Anne Shirley's features must have been complete fiction, but little Bea was a Bea-utiful Baby. (Pun intended.) She'd be in her late twenties by now, I hope she still has her red hair.

I was in agony, because I wanted to give something for the baby and I didn't have enough money to get anything I'd want to give. My Mom gave me the fabric to make her a dress. I hadn't ever made a garment except for dolls until that time, so it was a little over my head. The fabric was a mint green dotted-swiss, and I think I did a kelly green ric-rac around parts of it, I don't remember. ALL. BY. HAND. It had a bodice and flounce for the skirt, buttoned in the back.

What I do remember about the project was all that I was beginning to learn about clothing construction. The back of the bodice didn't just have to be the same width as the front, it also had to have extra coverage for the buttons and the matching holes. Sleeve cuffs had to be big enough to get into and so did the neckline. Selvages needed finished or the whole thing would just fall apart in threads.

The really cool thing about making baby clothes is that they will wear anything you make without complaint. Plus you get to learn all kinds of techniques.

Recently I finished a little sweater for Baby Lena. I was frustrated with the pattern search because I would have preferred it to be all in one piece, but such a pattern was not to be found FREE for the weight of yarn I wanted to use, so I had to use what I had. (Because I prefer jumping in and getting going rather than doing math and figuring it out for myself.) I had some pink, which she so richly deserved having been born a girl with a pretty smile, and I got to use up all that I had left of a self striping yarn.

This means that when the project is not all in one piece that your stripes have to match. This one turned out pretty simple to match actually. There were just a couple of spots that the stripes didn't match up exactly but I was able to fudge the seam a little and it came out perfect, even at the front neckline.

The next part to be particular about is making sure the distance from the bottom of the armhole to the shoulder is not too tight that baby's dressing assistant can't assist her arms into the sweater properly. The cuffs can't be too fitted either for the same reason.

And I hope that all the little ones who received sweaters from me before I learned the stretchy cast-off methods will forgive me if the necklines were too tight to squeeze their heads through. Nowadays, I always check to see if the watermelon that came out of mommy will go through my finished necklines.

I delivered it last weekend, I hoped that it was something to be worn on outside expeditions and that's exactly the first thing Lena's mommy said it would be good for.

On Storage Auctions

2011-01-12T22:35:00.000-08:00

It all started a couple of years ago with an article in the New York Times.

URBAN TACTICS; The Right Stuff, but Usually the Wrong Stuff

By CHRISTIAN VACHON

Published: May 13, 2007

AT 10 o'clock one morning not long ago, 14 men waited in a brightly lighted corridor of Access Self Storage in Long Island City, Queens, a company that shares a drab stretch of Review Avenue with a strip club, electrical generators and warehouses. The men were there to bid on the foreclosed contents of the first storage locker up for auction -- essentially panning for gold. Inside every sealed cardboard box is the possibility of a jewelry collection, a Civil War relic or a first-edition Superman comic book. Far more frequently, though, they find themselves the owners of items like photo albums and sex toys that are worthless -- at least to them.

When the manager opened the locker, a walk-in unit the size of a small bedroom, the men crowded in the doorway to inspect the merchandise. Along one wall were neatly stacked cardboard boxes. Leaning against another was a wooden bed frame. In the center of the room, a Tickle Me Elmo doll sat face up on the floor next to a box overflowing with comic books.

Among the buyers, in jeans and an untucked button-down shirt, was Nick Mermigas, a onetime Wall Streeter. As recently as a year ago Mr. Mermigas was trading gold options for the Comex division of the New York Mercantile Exchange, but business was not good. So he joined forces with a childhood friend from Jamaica, Queens, a onetime litigation attorney who was burning out in an 80-hour-a-week job.

''We were more or less cubicle jockeys,'' Mr. Mermigas said. ''Now we just work for ourselves.''

The men attend an average of eight storage auctions a week across the city, reselling the property of strangers online. Since starting in September, they have earned $12,500, supplementing their savings from their previous jobs. (Mr. Mermigas's partner would identify himself only as Bob, explaining that he worried that the lowbrow work would damage his chances of returning to the practice of law.)

Several months ago, the storage auction industry got an unexpected blitz of attention when Paris Hilton's overdue balance of $208 led to the sale of the things she had kept in a Los Angeles storage unit: sex tapes, photographs, diaries and prescriptions for the antiviral drug Valtrex, among others, items that can now be viewed online for a monthly fee.

The incident offered a glimpse into an industry that operates on the fringes of New York but is very much a part of it, and cast a spotlight on exactly what happens to possessions when people can no longer pay their storage bills.

This is a growing issue. As New Yorkers grapple with rising real estate prices and smaller living spaces, they are increasingly putting more belongings in storage, reflecting a national trend. According to the Self Storage Association, an industry group, space in storage units nationwide doubled to 2 billion square feet from 1998 to 2005.

At Access Self Storage, with 1,600 rooms one of the largest in Queens, and at all other self-storage companies in the city, potential buyers are legally forbidden to enter a locker or touch any of its contents before bidding begins. Bidders are not allowed to choose among items; a locker's contents are sold as a unit. Until the moment of sale, the contents belong to the renter, even if the items are in foreclosure. This often forces buyers to make a wild guess, estimating a unit's value from only a doorway view.

''It's a gamble,'' said Joseph Pauletich, a tall, soft-spoken buyer who owns a thrift shop called SoHo Treasures and has attended at least 50 auctions at Access Self Storage in his 16 years of bidding on units across the city. ''It's like going to Atlantic City; it really is. You have to look, and you see the quality of stuff, how they packed it, where the boxes came from.

''If it's a dirty person, I'm not so interested. If the people have money and if it was moved professionally, that will be something that I'm more interested in.''

Conducting the proceedings on this day was Don Bader, a professional auctioneer who has run this sort of event for more than 40 years.

When his call for an opening bid on the room containing the comic books yielded no immediate response, Mr. Bader said gruffly: ''Bunch of sissies -- don't strain yourselves, guys.''

A $150 offer was made and quickly countered at $200. The bids escalated until the contents of the room were sold for $400 to Mr. Mermigas and his partner, who in turn planned to sell the comic books online.

Although the auction seemed to be off to a promising start, any excitement fizzled fast. Two rooms containing an assortment of scattered, ripped boxes went for $10 each. Another two rooms, containing a pile of sealed boxes neatly stacked to the ceiling, sold for $55 and $95. A room containing stacked boxes and a closed trunk went unsold. The buyers were growing restless, even bored.

Then the door of the final room was opened. Gleaming in the fluorescent light was a refrigerator-size soft-serve ice cream maker, flanked by a pair of shiny cappuccino machines.

Outside the doorway, buyers impatiently nudged one another aside for a chance to inspect the machines. The beams of their flashlights reflected off the shiny chrome. One happy buyer made off with the equipment for $400.

Mr. Mermigas and his partner, however, went home empty-handed. As it turned out, the owner of the storage locker full of comic books paid the money he owed at the last minute, and their purchase was revoked.

''There were a lot of people,'' Mr. Mermigas said, summing up the event, ''and not a lot of rooms.''

That was published the first year I was in the Self Storage trade. At that point, I had a couple auctions and would call my supervisor with stupid questions like: "How many people have to be here to hold it?" or "What's the lowest possible bid amount acceptable?" I also got a little tougher about who I leased units to, because I realized there were people leaving their stuff on my facility that found it less expensive to do so than take it to the dump. After this article came out, more people showed up, the kind of people that got into the whole 'flipping houses' scenario, that were looking to take advantage of the misfortunes of others. The office phone started ringing fairly steadily the day before the scheduled date and when I had an auction, about 15 people would show up.

That's changed again already with the new television programs about people in the business of attending auction and 'making a killing at it'. Now my phone rings daily. I often have to educate people who call what happens in real life at an auction. What tell them is 'This isn't television'. In fact, my company recently told us to remind people of this at auctions.

My tenants have become close to me, I know their histories for the most part and I spend extra time making them aware what is happening. I suppose if I had been doing this for ten or twenty years I may not be so concerned with more than doing my jobs, but I hope that I never get that way. With the way of the world economically speaking at this time, my concern focuses on the ones without a permanent address. I currently have four homeless people leasing my units. They seem to do fairly well, they are working, somewhat limited, but they are focused only on this 'bill' and for the most part seem to do fine. I have a few people I know are without jobs. I encourage them not to be late enough to accrue late fees, because at that point, their fees are too costly and can become overwhelming. I have advised a few of them that they can pay in advance so that it would be easier to stay on top of, but nobody has yet taken me up on this plan. Because this is not a necessary bill, like the mortgage payment or the power bill, there are quite a few that brush off my efforts to help them stay on top of this, to the point where I'm being ignored entirely. Those are the ones I have to advise to move out. I've basically called them several times a week, without contact, sent letters that are returned or e-mails without replies, they have accrued late fees, given me every lame excuse (for example: One young woman told me she couldn't make her monthly payment because she had a new puppy).

So, when a unit is at the point of auction, it is because the owner of the contents didn't care anymore, meaning that usually the contents weren't worth caring for. It's not a lifetime coin collection or the comic book collection of the middle-aged guy who still lives at home. The next thing new auction attendees don't see is that the old-timers know they are new and will squeeze them out by making sure they don't get anything or out bidding them. I've seen that happen, but the guys have told me they do it, too. It tickles them to pick on the greenies.

Lately, in my area, the auctions have about 150 to 200 people showing up, so I can imagine it's pretty slim pickings. Plus there's a lot of restrictions, for instance, about the personal photos and documents left in the units, which vary from state to state. In my company, the winning bidder has only 24 hours to empty the unit, also nothing can be left behind or disposed of on the facility and it's cash only.

There is a sweet misconception, that as a manager of the facility, I'm keeping all the stuff left behind. Hey, I don't even look twice. I'm pretty sad about what I know is the history of these units (so many sleepless nights, stomach aches and grey hairs with each one). . . some child's lost toys, the stuff Grandma wanted family members to have but was not even very sentimental to the recipient, medals and award certificates, pictures with the governor or other dignitaries and famous people.

The horror stories of what's left behind that I see on the internet for this industry is all believable for what I know personally. Most of it is just too sad, but apparently a burden that couldn't be carried any longer. That's the part I try to focus on when it's over and done with, that the person I tried to work with will no longer have me to bother them, or the bill looming over their heads.

Book of Love

2011-01-09T10:33:00.000-08:00

I was all set to write about the shooting of the senator in Tucson yesterday, how cynicism is spawning all this disrespect and hate, ~ had it all in my head and ready to go. Last night, I stayed up late and watched the movie 'Shall We Dance' and changed my mind. I would rather show you something beautiful that I found instead. Not that I'm the one who's found it and put it out there for you to see, you could have found it too. I just would rather you hear Peter Gabriel sing a beautiful heartfelt song and feel hope.

I would rather you hope.

The lyrics struck me personally, I know now how truthful they are, one of those things I couldn't understand a few years ago. So, I'm going to post the lyrics first and then the clip from the movie. I've looked for a little while now and haven't found the video of Peter Gabriel singing it, I don't believe he wrote it, but it is expressed vocally by him with a deep sense of soul. If I find it I will update . . . . . . . .

The book of love is long and boring
No one can lift the damn thing
It's full of charts and facts and figures
And instructions for dancing
But I---
I love it when you read to me
And you---
You can read me anything

The book of love has music in it
In fact that's where music comes from
Some of it is just transcendental
Some of it is just really dumb
But I---
I love it when you sing to me
And you---
You can sing me anything

The book of love is long and boring
And written very long ago
It's full of flowers and heart-shaped boxes
And things we're all too young to know
But I---
I love it when you give me things
And you---
You ought to give me wedding rings
And I---
I love it when you give me things
And you---
You ought to give me wedding rings
You ought to give me wedding rings

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3G553_oRp-o

Bra Sales = Improved Economy?!? (Rant)

2011-01-06T15:07:00.000-08:00

I heard something on the news at lunchtime, that quite frankly, has me pretty heated.

Analysts were saying that because women were buying expensive bras for themselves more now than this time, some time ago, the economy must be improving.

I don't want to be offensive, but I have to call B*LLSH*T on this one.

First of all, a woman (OK, Let's say me) will put off buying a bra or anything personal for as long as possible if money is tight. My income, personally for the last two years has been greatly reduced and I do not see any end in sight. After two years the bras I have are sadly lacking in the support department.

In order to purchase a bra that fits properly, you must spend money. Cheap bras are not much improved over wearing old ones. I do not know women who are a typical size and can wear the bras available at most department stores. Most women I know have to go to a specialty store or, like me, have to order online. I don't know anyone that can afford to have custom made bras, but I know most women would appreciate that. So, would most men, but I'm not going there.

So, after a couple of years of a poor economy, a woman will have to buy new bras. Period. It is not a sign of improved economy; it's a HEALTH concern. It must be done, money must be spent, after time, regardless of what Wall Street is doing.

My opinion on this piece of news, therefore, is that, again, the title ANALYST begins with ANAL and is proof in and of itself.

And don't even get me started on the difficulty of finding AMERICAN MADE support wear. . .

Did you make a New Years Resolution?

2011-01-04T23:14:00.000-08:00

I tried to come up with something that I need to do like posting blogs more often, which I suck at, obvious to anybody who regularly checks in. However, my only resolve for this year is to work at making sure I brush my teeth before I go to bed.

I admit, this has not been a priority for me, deliberately so, because when I'm ready to go to bed, I don't want to wake up my mouth before I try to sleep. However, the last few weeks I've been going to bed with a cough drop in my mouth and the menthol hasn't been affecting me. Not like the aspartame in the sugar free drops have been churning my tummy, anyway.

Dr. Oz said a couple months back the the number one bad habit that women have is not brushing their teeth at night, when overnight the bad stuff like gingivitis really has time to do the greatest damage. Plus, being diabetic, my lack of dental care weighs on me heavily.

So, that's the thing I've chosen for this year to work at, because I need to form this one little healthy habit. I usually don't ever resolve anything, but I think every time I look at the number 2011, it will remind me to stick to my goal.

Here's my question: Do you resolve anything this year? Please comment if you did. Hopefully, we can all attain to healthier habits, take better care of ourselves, so we can take better care of each other.

Wishing you joy ~

Happy Anniversary to Us! #3

2010-12-22T10:44:00.001-08:00

Marriage is the basis for family and family is the basis of community. Unfortunately, it is evident that most people base their choice for marriage on something other than any sort of thoughtful process. It used to be that the old song 'Making Whoopie' was right ~ people married for sex. Nowadays, it could be to have a party. When the party is over so is the marriage. I also know that people think they need to be married in order not to be alone anymore. Three Dog Night sang 'two can be as lonely as one' meaning you may not be alone but you can be very lonely.

I can't advise anyone how to find the perfect mate/spousal equivalent. I only know my own truth. I believed with absoluteness that I couldn't be in a relationship where anybody would be happy. I couldn't make anybody happy and they couldn't love me for more than I could give. Different people have different opinions and it isn't possible to have matching personalities. This is all true. Nobody can make anybody happy, the responsibility for that is on the individual themselves. There is no absolute match. Mr. or Ms. Right is a fairy tale that resides in a Disney Fantasyland.

Michael had already been married twice before I met him. I gave up on that whole picture a long time before he met me. I was open to new friendships and so was he, having recently moved here and not made the acquaintance of people he could value. I only valued people for what they proved to be 'Actions speak louder than words' and, in a lot of cases, that amounted to 'not a whole lot'. He proved to be what he said he was ~ he had a dog and he loves animals, protector of people especially those he loves, capable of jumping into a project and taking the bull by the horns to get it done with the know-how to get it done right, likes things simple and slow and appreciates people like him probably because he can understand them best. We have a lot of the same opinions which he voices where I don't and preferences he makes the most of and I'm learning to do more. He is a real man in that he is capable of displaying his affections and emotions without thought that such displays make him less than what he is. He can make me cry tears of joy and that's far beyond most of humanity.

Three years ago today, we promised forever and always to love and honor. It is my honor to keep that promise.

Rapunzel? Not me

2010-12-13T12:53:00.000-08:00

I have had a love/hate relationship with my hair for most of my life.

I think every kid starts out that way. We never saw it but it never made anybody else happy. Mom would brush it, tearing at the tangles, cut it when it got too frustrating. When I was 12 she cut it off. That began my hate of it. I tried to take over from that point, but being new at it and maybe she wasn't ready to lose control, plus again, she had to look at it ~ I never saw it once I walked away from the mirror ~ taking over my own hairdo was easier said than done. Most of the next few years she kept it short, once it was a Dorothy Hamil style, which was fun at first but needed more work than I wanted to give it.

When I was in high school I had a bad perm job, which thinned it out plenty because it was burned in. In my senior year, I finally started getting some length but it never grew past the middle of my shoulder blades. I really wanted the hair the girls had in the shampoo commercials but I would lose faith that it could ever be that way and do something stupid to it again. Like maybe another perm. I colored it, starting when I was in my mid-twenties but never with a permanent color, always the kind that washed out in a month, and always something close to my natural color because I just wanted the grey I've had since childhood to disappear.

Apparently, I'm not the only one in the world with hair anxiety. Some of my favorite movies have big major life changing haircuts. For instance, Audrey Hepburn in 'Roman Holiday':
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jKs-0eIMAGA 1933 'Roman Holiday'

And then there was Jo's dramatic donation to her family's effort in 'Little Women' (I like the Katharine Hepburn better but I couldn't find a clip of it, even June Alyson would have been better than this but you get the idea from Wynona Rider):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VUCLtTg6Mh4 1994 'Little Women'

Not to leave out the guys ~ I remember laughing myself silly over Ice Skating Olympian Scotty Hamilton's exhibition performance to this song:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7dyl0j3WU6Y 'Hair'

The last fifteen years or so, I just pretty much let it go. I wash it, let it dry, if it's not behaving put it in a pony or a braid. I quit coloring it when I turn 40, I figured I deserved to let the whites shine. I also have discovered I have severe trust issues with stylists doing their own thing or their interpretation of what they thought they heard me say.

My hair never got very long until about 18 months ago, I started using a shampoo & conditioner that said it was 'made for fragile or hard-to-grow-long hair'. Finally I got some length. It's still fine, the braids were pretty teeny, but it was waist length or longer. I think last week it was to top of the pocket on my jeans. I loved the way it felt silky on my skin, feather touches on my elbows and forearms . . .

This is me in the chair at the salon. I had the stylist use my camera to photograph it before he cut it off.

This was a really hard thing for me to do. I kept thinking about little kids with problems, like cancer or alopecia (can't verify that's the correct spelling) that don't have any hair, little girls wishing they had the hair the princess movies all make such a big deal about and thinking they are less than . . . Little Superheroes with nothing on their noggins. I had to donate it.

The really cool part of my little story is that my co-worker also donated hers the same day without my knowing it or she knowing I was donating mine. Her final cut is much shorter than mine so perhaps her sacrifice/donation was greater than mine. She has a 7-week-old baby and said it was getting to be in the way all the time. Her hair was that healthy mommy hair, and when I saw her the day after it was all gone.

Mine's about shoulder length now. I miss it so much. It feels stubbly and hard. So, I can't wait for it to grow back.

Because it will, you know.

Checking in? Not much happening

2010-12-06T22:34:00.000-08:00

There's really not much going on that I can talk about. I just wanted to update a couple little things.

1. Self Storage: Such a weird time right now. Every crime show has done a storage unit episode and there is reality shows becoming popular about the auction process, so the daily phone calls have increased: people are calling to find out when we are having one. Well, I have worked very hard to make it so I'm NOT auctioning people's stuff. Desperate times, I guess, mean people try to take advantage of other people's desperation. Something like that. We've only had to auction about three units this whole year. In fact, we've been able to accomplish something we'd not been able to do before ~ we ended the month with EVERYBODY paid, no one went 30 days delinquent. So, not only do we know we have no auctions in December but we also have no units in line for auctions in January.

And while I was hoping that made our bosses happy, I got myself in trouble. Every time I need to communicate with my superior, I pause to think 'is this an emergency or shall I not interrupt whatever or wherever she is and send a fax or e-mail?' and if there is no urgency except some feedback would be appreciated, I opt for the e-mail or fax. And wait. And wait. My cobwebs accumulate and the dust becomes embedded in my scalp and still no return message. Days go by and my messages do not get returned.

So, when we knew we had the zero delinquencies, I sent off an e-mail because I was so very excited. Two days later, she called all excited because I'd also achieved 101% of expected gross income for the month. I was in shock, because this wasn't what I was hoping to hear. She found my response greatly lacking and chewed me out for 'bursting her bubble'. I'm still unimpressed. The thing she was excited about was about having something that would impress her boss, about money. That bit of news actually screws us because it was achieved through prepaid clients paying for the next year, and means that it will now be VERY hard to achieve the base income expected of this facility, which, in turn means little to no bonuses for us.

Not only did I piss off my boss, I'll need to find a second job to make ends meet. Yeah, me.

2. Knitting: I have so many projects in queue, and can only go so fast. I have a hat here for my sister, and some scraps for beanies waiting to create and send to her son in Afghanistan, trying to finish off another big project and my Mom brought me some wonderful ANGORA! I was about a third through a sweater when I realized that the pattern wasn't falling straight and I need to rip out. . . Got some sweaters for the dogs done, so now we walk in woolly warmth, in case of rain, but if it's raining we don't get to go. Which means mommy doesn't get the exercise she needs and so

3. Diabetes: Pretty sure my blood sugar is wonky and too chicken to check it. I have confined myself to meat and veggies, but the regular everyday stress is making me want to bite the heads off of little idiots because they came into my view. The frustration with my boss, the depression that comes with dark weather days, the anxiety over money that doesn't stretch far enough in winter. My husband can't hear what I'm saying and I don't seem to be speaking English created some heated discussions. . . All keep me up at night, I look and feel terrible all the time. I wish I could just have chocolate scent in the air to help adjust my attitude and not whack at my blood sugar. I wanna do the happy dance again.

4. The dogs are having a rough time. The rat terrier's nails got so long her pads were sore and every different day she limped on a different foot. That was probably my fault too. We purchased a nail trimmer tool that is a little sander, and seems to work pretty well, but it won't hold enough power anymore to do more than freak her out and the sander parts are not rough enough to get it done quickly when there is power. She's almost ten so this entire mess makes her seem old now. The Jack Russel rescue girl has had her schedule thrown off, mostly due to the inclement weather, she seems confused about what she should be doing when she's outside and has had to make messes inside. She can't indicate when she needs to go out because she's so afraid of everything. On the positive side, she seems to be more accepting of us all the time, she's chosen to sit closer to me on several occasions, has actually crawled up on the bed with me a couple of times.

5. Family: Well. My timing with the previous post (see Skeletons) about stuff I don't seem to cope with very well couldn't have been worse. Unbeknownst to me, my paternal grandmother died the day I posted that. I'm sad that she died, but only just a little. She chose how our relationship was to be, and I hadn't seen her in nearly thirty years. Then there was the funeral gatherings and my brother expected we all go, in attendance with my father. After it was all over (no, I didn't go, but my sister did and my brother who lives on the East Coast made the trip, I've seen pictures of different ones that were there) I sent the link to the post to my brother. I hoped we'd be able to talk about it, to see if there was any more he needed to know and to ask for his protection, EVEN though it is not the same experience for him. But so far, he's not spoken to me or answered my messages.

Part of what may have prevented him from doing so may be that my maternal grandfather suffered a major stroke over the holiday weekend. And of course, I was intolerable and didn't behave concerned enough and a few more family members are avoiding me. (By that I mean, I didn't travel to see him in the hospital, didn't get in on the 'what should be done' conversations except that when people needed to vent I let them, and then pissed them off because I didn't take a side. My only concern was that people not fight because all have health issues that make stress downright dangerous.)

And, of course, I can't tell if my daughter, who I was thinking of when I wrote that has even seen it. I've seen her a couple of times, once because I was being the overprotective Mommy I wished she'd always had and went to where she works and hung out while she closed her store by herself. The week before she worked the last seven hours of her shift by herself, including the close which she'd never done alone. Mommy was sickened to discover that her little place of work is right next door to a mass transit stop and wondered why this employer was willing to jeopardize the safety of her one-and-only . . . and there I go again. Agh!

That's all. Everybody is doing their best to just get by, but nobody seems to be getting anywhere. Even me. Hope you are well, I will try to post something thoughtful and unprovoking someday soon. I anticipate I will have something to write in a couple weeks as our anniversary is coming up. Prepare for that by purchasing your antacids now!

Good night, I wish you peace.

The Day you were Born ~ 11/14

2010-11-17T20:18:00.000-08:00

Have I ever told you how that all went down?

Well, you were born on a Saturday. Friday night, I was having some stomach pain at the lower front that was unusual, so I called and spoke with the on call physician for Dr. Nicky, who told me to use a heating pad on low temp. Didn't really have any appetite, so just had a little bit of mashed potatoes for dinner. All night long, I couldn't get comfortable so we went up to the hospital ~ this was like the 12th time we'd gone up ~ just to make sure this wasn't it again. Well, Dr. Nicky told them to keep us and start inducing labor because according to their guesses we were nearly two weeks overdue with you. I say their guesses because I calculated you would be born about the 16th, and they, being the highly educated folks that they are, would only go as far as November 2nd.

That was pretty early in the morning. Your dad was supposed to be at work at 6am, so he ran the keys to work and came back. I really don't remember much after he left. The medication they gave me to induce labor sorta left me loopy. From what I gather, Grandma was in there (my mom) and they had to ask her to leave because I was so out of it, I was getting confused. They had to break the water and you might have panicked because your heart rate got really excited. They had me in a birthing room and moved me to a delivery room, don't remember that either. I remember that room, and the last few contractions, and there you were, all red and gooey. Black curls all over your head and teeny, sweet red lips. Your dad was crying, but it must have been a stressful day for him. In fact, he could probably fill in a lot of other details that they never told me about that day. Probably the closest to be drunk or stoned that I'll ever be. You know, not able to recall the events of the day I was very much a part of . . . You were born about 6:30pm. You weighed just under 8 pounds, about 20 inches long. Perfectly baked, as far as the due dates were concerned, not overdone at all.

I remember your Other Grandma coming in, she'd been pretty stressed because she'd made airline reservations to go see your Auntie K in SoCal and was afraid she was going to miss seeing you before she left. So, she was taking lots of pictures to share. Your Auntie C came in and I remember she thought you looked like Snow White.

I was at the hospital for a couple of days, I think they sent us home on Monday or Tuesday. I really didn't care for the hospital, they kept complaining about you not latching on to nurse, but they wouldn't let you stay in my room for any length of time and certainly not in the bed with me, and they'd given you that stupid pacifier! The first night, I was wide awake from having slept all day, starved and all they could get me for dinner was a sandwich. But the room was at the end of the hall, where they had a little waiting area with windows. We watched for your Grandma's plane to take off from there and waved to her.

There was snow on the ground when we brought you home. We lived in a tiny one-bedroom house and had set up a bassinet (it was your Auntie C's when your cousins were born) in the corner of the living room, just for you, with a little dresser nearby and Winnie-the-Pooh on the wall.

Ever since that day, it has been my priority to make sure you were happy because you brought so much light to my life. Love you, baby. ~mom.

Are YOU talking 'bout ME?

2010-11-09T23:31:00.000-08:00

On the Wikipedia website:

Gossip is idle talk or rumour, especially about the personal or private affairs of others. It forms one of the oldest and most common means of sharing (unproven) facts and views, but also has a reputation for the introduction of errors and other variations into the information transmitted. The term also carries implications that the news so transmitted (usually) has a personal or trivial nature, as opposed to normal conversation.

The term is sometimes used to specifically refer to the spreading of dirt and misinformation, as (for example) through excited discussion of scandals. Some newspapers carry "gossip columns" which detail the social and personal lives of celebrities or of élite members of certain communities.

It goes on with the etymology of the word GOSSIP as deriving from the old english word 'god-parent' and basically referred to old woman who had too much to say about the neighbors, or a tattler.

Then, of course, it gets into the scriptural references. Proverbs 18:8 described it as food that is absorbed into the inmost self. Then the Apostle said in Romans chapter 1, sorted it into the category of maliciousness deserving of death. Later in chapter 3, he instructed to only speak of one another with love.

Wanna hear how I define it?

Anytime you discuss someone with someone else, collecting and spreading personal information you haven't bothered to confirm with that person as to whether or not that any of it is true, you have gossiped.

It's so easy to get there, too. I think it may start with a sincere concern. Perhaps you are worried about someone and you want to confer with another person who may know more than you that you have reason to worry. Who wants to be dramatic over nothing? The saying 'making mountains out of molehills' comes to mind. Nobody wants that kind of chaos, right?

But, what if that person didn't know anything about it? Now, they are seeing things they hadn't before and they may go to yet another person to figure things out. The gossip chain has begun.

Not all gossip is that innocently begun. Some is started by someone who thinks higher of themselves than their subject. Take for an example: a mother speaking about her daughter-in-law. Mother may know more about her son; she has been his mother his whole life, after all. Perhaps in her opinion, the daughter-in-law will never measure up. Isn't it malicious to belittle the daughter-in-law to all the neighbors or other relatives, rather than support her son in his choice.

I think the recent awareness about bullying has a lot to do with gossip. 'The first cut is the deepest' sang Sheryl Crow. Someone with a need to elevate themselves over someone else finds a weakness in that person and tells yet another person. They may never strike that person, but what's said always gets back to the subject and causes injury, even if it never becomes physical, there is wound inflicted and scar tissue on a soul, that takes time to heal, or in the case of the increasing rates of teen-age suicides, may never heal.

I have always had issues with gossip. I tend to turn and walk away from any conversation that goes in that direction. If that's not possible, I do change the subject forcibly, 'how about those SanFrancisco Giants, huh?' which gets met with nasty stares most of the time, but I don't have to listen to where this was going.

I have been the subject of gossip. Usually, when it gets back to me, I can be tough enough that it doesn't hurt. Once, though, it nearly killed me.

I once sought help for a very painful situation from a shepherd in my (religious) faith's congregation. I had always done my best to be an encouragement to all I associated with, so I was stunned when this 'shepherd' repeated things to me that had been said in the congregation. He stated that these were things I felt and said, but had never occured or even been considered. I was in such shock that I couldn't speak or defend myself. I left in the blackest state of mind and even though I continued attending, the wind had been knocked out of me, until I couldn't make myself go anymore. Without that joy of worship in my life anymore, I lost hope. Having no way to find help or to deal with my sadness, I began to plan my death. I became just like these young people in the recent news reports, someone without alternatives except to put an end to it all. What happened in the end was just to walk away from everything, rather than allow the people I loved more than myself to watch me fall apart completely. That was my solution, and I don't advise it to anyone else, because I ended up in a pretty dangerous situation. I believe I was protected because of the person I had been up until then, but without my past, my future could have been obliterated.

So, how do we get rid of gossip? I think it is time to declare a personal war on anything that resembles gossip. Anytime I become concerned about a person, I will go to that person and express my concern. Hopefully, that's how it will be taken, because I would only do that with someone I loved. Next, I will not listen to anything about anybody. No more gossip tv shows or thinly veiled 'news' programs, no more gossip magazines, no more talk shows that discuss someone's troubles without interviewing them to figure it all out. Only the positive about anyone will be spoken that I will hear.

. . .The hardest part will be leaving the knitting group when it goes round that way. . .

In Appreciation of Beginners Credit Cards and Good IDTheft Protection

2010-11-02T11:38:00.000-07:00

The other day, I found a post by a young knitter over on Ravelry trying to figure out how to get credit. Being the nosy busy-body that I am, I posted this:

OK. I’m formerly from credit repair industry and before that I worked with credit card applications. So, my I would like to voice my opinion and my experience.

There is a lot of information out there given by financial experts. Heads up on most of them: They do not like credit cards. That’s OK for them if they have money. They will tell you not to get any cards, or if you get them, not to use them, if you use them pay them off every month. If you are hoping to build your credit, none of that will help. You need to look at it from the view point of those who would be offering you credit. They need to see that you are responsible enough to make regular monthly payments and not over extending your financial self.

My advice before applying for credit is to build your savings. Make sure your rainy day fund (which is money you can access at any time for any reason) is enough to cover you for several months. It used to be three to six months of your current income is the goal, but I think in the last couple of years it would be smart to go even further. This is solely to cover your butt when life changes, like losing your job. Life is change, be prepared.

When you are ready for credit cards, you probably won’t qualilfy right off the bat with low interest rates or high credit limits. The Orchard Bank card suggestion is a good one. If you can’t find them, they are also known as First Premier Bank. A lot of people speak negatively about this bank, but here’s the deal: You do get a high rate, like higher than 20% and you do get a low credit limit. Don’t do the joint card method because that builds only the primary cardholders credit. Those kinds of suggestions are great for immediate help, but won’t help you in the long-run.

When you get the card, do not use it beyond 50% of the limit. This shows lenders that you are in control. Pay the bills on time (that’s true of all your bills) without fail. Pay more than the minimum payment required, again proves that you are financially responsible. Don’t pay it off. Lenders need to see that you can carry a balance over time.

With the Orchard Bank/First Premier cards, the initial fees will put you over the 50% I just suggested so you probably won’t be using it immediately. The minimum payment will always be at least $20, plan on at least $30. You can contact them every 6 months to request a review to have your limit increased but it won’t ever be more than $750. Also know that they are each month reporting to all the credit bureaus what you are doing with your account and that more than anything else will help your credit profile. It is a good card for a new consumer, but if that new consumer is not yet responsible, it can also be the worst thing you can do. It is great for the emergency half tank of gas the day before payday, but you’ll probably not ever be able to buy a set of tires with it.

Hope that’s helpful. If I can think of anything else, I will add it later.

The feedback on my post was varied. Most people believe that responsible use of credit cards means paying it off every month. That would be advice given by a financial expert like Susie Orman. These financial experts do not like seeing you spending your money without having something to show for it, such as the interest on balances carried from month-to-month. However, you do get something out of it: you build your credit. Besides these financial experts are making big money compared with the rest of us, so of course, they can pay the cards off every month and don't need to build their credit.

One very smart young lady wrote asking me how to fix fraud and told me what she'd already done. What she had already done was exactly what she needed to do but now she knows how important a Identity Monitoring service is, how much time and money is consumed trying to fix it herself. I told her about the IDTheft protection I market with PrePaid Legal. It is different from other identity theft products out there, I know because I used to sell them when I was taking credit card applications ~ they only cover the one person, not the husband and wife, and are only there to tell you how to fix it yourself. This service monitors your personal information (and your spouse) FOR YOU and watches your all your personal information, contacts you each month, or as something appears, to let you know either nothing has happened or 'Something has shown up ~ please confirm this was you'.

It made my day to be able to send her information about this. My sense of being someone able to help someone else was very gratified.

SKELETONS as in the closet kind

2010-10-30T16:40:00.000-07:00

I really don't want to write this as it's very personal. (That would be a warning to anybody not looking for something awful to read.) I've been thinking a lot about family and the stuff that gets hidden and becomes damaging, the skeletons in my family's closet. I had been thinking about it quite a bit, because my daughter asks questions I have felt are not my business to answer, which leaves her hurt. Wynona Judd was on 'Oprah' the other day, she was telling how hurt she was to find out at 30 that the man she thought was her father and the folks she thought were her grandparents weren't hers at all, and that her younger sister Ashley knew, but nobody told had ever bothered to tell Wynona. . . I'm guessing there's a lot of that families do to each other. I don't intend to advertise this post, but I want you to understand, this is gonna get vile and disgusting. If you are my family reading this, I'm sorry, but maybe you should know.

My story is multi-generational. Nobody in my family will be happy I'm posting this, so I'm going to have to change some of the identifying points. I don't think that will matter, they will still not be happy with me. Of course, I've always been the loud-mouthed child, considered to be the one who didn't know her place. I will only tell what I know to be true, that was confirmed by other people, because what I know has been disputed as 'what I was brainwashed by my mother to believe'.

Most of this has to do with my mother. To me, every time there has been a major change in her life, she has had to become a different person. The person she is now is a lot like my grandmother was at the end of her life, sweet, humble, believing she is cherished (whether it's true or not) by all she loves, and completely dependent on others. Before she was married to my step-dad, she was very independent, made major decisions like when it was time to buy a house or a car, went where she needed to go and saw who she wanted to see, when she wanted to see them. (Part of the difference lately may be that she's retired, but to me that's only made it more striking.) When we children were all in the house still and she wasn't working outside the home, she seemed to be holding back from engaging in life too, maybe from depression. When we were very little, she seemed to be a bit 'Mommy Dearest' but that could have been due to the stress of where she was.

My mom was married the first time, I think, at 18 years old, had me at 19. She looks in the photographs of the time, to me, to be content with her decision, but not the overjoyed blushing bride you normally see. Many people are glad to get out of their parents home and be a grown-up, but I believe her motivation was beyond that. I believe the 'contentment' may have been due to the relief of being out of the house. What she has told me, and other family has confirmed, is that while her mother had been laid up due to back injury a couple of years before, she was molested by her father.

She didn't tell me this, of course, until I was very much adult, but it explains a lot. Her father has a hold on her and a couple other family members that is borderline sexual (which is stomach churning to watch when in his presence) and with his ability to manipulate others with money (their need for it and his having a little) has caused me to not want to be around and I have chosen not to when given the opportunity since my grandmother died, even if it means missing out on seeing other family members that I love. He has caused other kinds of pain to family members, some of which resulted in deaths of their children . . . That was not something my mother will discuss with me, she seems to want to cover it over. He has never apologized or been punished, has demanded love and respect as patriarch that I can't give. Of him I want nothing but to be left alone and will not encourage the association of others in my family with him. However much I miss my grandmother, however much I admire her dedication to her family by staying with him, when she must have known who it was she was married to, possibly believing there was no where else to go. I can't honor her by having anything to do with him.

Now, someone (religiously) may point out that this would be considered unchristian, or Biblically unrighteous, based on the commandment that we are to 'honor your father and mother', certainly I may have family members who would say that, and I would have to argue, being the loud-mouth child who doesn't know her place, I would have to stand up and say that would apply to individuals that were Honor-able. You can't honor someone who has no honor. The way that he would have earned honor would be to admit his sins, ask for forgiveness and worked to regain his honor even accepting punishment, which I have searched for and cannot see has ever happened. I don't wish to judge him, but to protect myself and those I am in a position to protect from life-changing hurt, I won't have anything to do with him.

If ever anyone thought that our life wouldn't be changed forever by that kind of hurt, I'd have to disagree with you, based on my own life.

My earliest memories are mostly being terrified of my father. When I was a preschooler, probably between 3 and 4 years old, he very nearly broke my arm. I had been standing on the floor between him and the television, and, with anger, he lifted my by that arm and carried me down the hallway and flung me onto the top of the bunk bed. It was three days before he took me to the hospital, my mom tells me, but what I remember was trying so hard not to cry over the pain of my injury that I nearly wet my pants trying to control my sobs. He spoke a different language from my mother, in that he could curse anything and everyone horribly, violently, where the memory of her voice at that time was gentler but anxious and worried. Later, when their were five of us, out of control and wild, her voice elevated to screaming, and that may be what my siblings remember. I had a fear of her, but I was terrified of him. He was so angry all the time that I did fear for my life. When I realized he was beating my mother, I feared for hers as well, and for us all if that did happen.

The first time I remember they were separated, came when I was in the first grade. I was surprised one day when someone from the office came to get me out of class with all of my things. My grandfather had come to take us to his home away from my father and all of my family and our belongings were packed in their trucks. My mother reconciled with my father about a month later, but I stayed behind at my grandparents house to finish out the school year. Later, I was told by a family friend that there had been irrefutable proof that I was being molested by my father. I don't remember that happening. I do know my mother was miserable. She was trying to do the right thing and being told by my grandfather that she was stupid and couldn't do anything right that she felt compelled to go back when my father said he was sorry and he would be better. She had to believe him, because the alternative wasn't a very nice option either.

When it was time for me to go home, too, I was surprised that it was only him that showed up to collect me. On the journey home, we stopped. That was the first occasion I remember him touching me inappropriately. However, looking back on it, I was not surprised by his actions, so perhaps it had been happening before and I was just not aware it was wrong until then.

As a child of a violent parent, I think there is a tendency to attempt to please, in order to direct the parent's anger elsewhere, or to calm the anger. Dogs do the same thing: a person can beat a dog mercilessly and the dog will turn and lick that person's hand. I believe that I tried to ignore it as inappropriate and tried to believe that by participating I was gaining his love. He told me so, and that this activity prepared me for adulthood and it was his job to prepare me for a husband.

When I was in the third grade, my mother got him out of the house, I think she had him arrested. I'm not sure now how she got him out, but for a while he was gone, and during that time we went to court. I had to testify in a judge's chambers, in front of a group of strange men (the only woman was my mother and the only other person I knew was my father) of how he had touched me and describe where and when. The result of all of this was that he had to see a therapist. My mother told me that this therapist basically blamed her for my father's actions and he came back home. I don't know really what the therapist's opinion was, but I know from my own experience that it is very easy to be made to feel that way.

Over the next few years, we made visits to my grandparents house. I have an uncle who was about six years older than me and an aunt a few years older than him who were both living at my grandparents house. My aunt was very hard-working and had many responsibilities, and we admired her for all that she did. My uncle was constantly in trouble. We kids thought he was just like us and we loved him too. Over those years, he starting taking me to hiding places around my grandparent's home and asking me questions about what my father and I had done (apparently he'd overheard some of the grown-ups conversation that I hadn't) and having me demonstrate on him.

In fact, I believed that sex was happening everywhere I turned. The neighbor girl who lived across the street and I were running around playing one day and we ran through the front door to her house. Her father had her older sister naked on the sofa and was on top of her. She must have been a teen-ager because I remembered seeing her pubic hair and wondered if she got it because her dad was touching her and then dreading when mine would start.

There was a place in the basement of the house where my father started digging a hole. It was about four feet by four feet and the depth eventually became about 12 feet, I think, as a child I thought it was incredibly deep. He had all of us kids working on it, believing it was for a swimming pool or a tunnel to China. The dirt was piled around the foundation of the house, in the basement. We worked on this hole for years, and it became wider at the very bottom.

After I was done with the fifth grade, the school district we lived in made some changes and I was assigned to go to a school hours from home by bus; desegregation. My mother was worried about me on the bus so far from home for so long every day, but my father's issue was that I would be going to school with black kids. So, my mother held me out of school and he searched out a new neighborhood to live in. Eventually, he found one about 30 to 45 minutes away, and they enrolled me in that school district. That meant I was in the car with him every morning and at night after school until we could get moved. I dreaded that time in the car every day, sitting in silence worrying about my new school and classmates, watching the cars pass slowly and the changes in the weather through the fall, listening to him cuss out the other drivers.

One day, I remember my mom was really quiet and her eyes and face were puffy that morning when I saw her briefly. He was more silent than usual, not speaking to me or cussing out the other cars. That night, he picked me up and took me home and immediately left for work. It was then I found out he'd attempted to kill her the night before. There were horrible, deep scratches on her wrists and neck, and I remember a lot of bruises. Later, she said she understood what that hole in the basement was for: he'd made a pine wood box that would have fit into the bottom of that hole. We'd been told it was for the move but there was only one box, too small for furniture and too big to be filled with smaller household items, it would have been too heavy to carry anything at all. She believed it was to dispose of her body.

After the move, things became impossibly strained. My mom was going next door to make phone calls to her parents when he was gone, and grandma's letters were full of coded language. A couple of months later, right as I turned 12, she had a friend drive us to the bus station, each with a suitcase and we left him again, for the last time. I only saw him once after that, when he brought the station wagon filled with stuff we'd left behind.

I believed it was my fault that our folks split but I was too afraid of him to think of going back. I also thought that what had happened to me and what I felt was the same for my brothers and sisters. I couldn't have been more wrong, but didn't realize that until just the last few years. Our father has visited my brother and he has gone to visit him, and he has discussed his visits with our mom and my siblings. My mother, naturally, is horrified. The rest of my siblings are like him, don't understand why our father was taken away . . . When I try to explain, I am the 'one repeating my mother's words'. I think they are good people who think that our father is like them, all good people who try to do the best for their children. I really can't impress upon them enough without going into sickeningly, graphic detail, that this really did happen, he really was that way, I won't visit him, I won't tolerate his being told about my whereabouts or well-being.

My uncle, too, got into lots of trouble, beginning with breaking and entering, and getting into drugs. Eventually, he went to prison on multiple accounts of child abuse. Very early on, my mom and I had a conversation about him, when I told him of what he'd done, and when he was initially punished, I believed it was because of me, too. Later, my mom told me she didn't know and doesn't remember ever having had that conversation with me. It turned out that what I told her was universally unknown and he was never brought to account for it. Much to the detriment of others that I loved. I think some of the information about his child abuse case was hidden from me, purposely, so that I wouldn't get involved, open my big mouth and be the child that didn't know her place.

So. Three skeletons in this closet, accounted for. There's some other stuff but these are the only ones that affect me directly.

During my teenage years, I came to realize that I probably was damaged goods and no one that I admired would think I was marriage material. When the son of the elder in my faith said he needed me for his wife, I was very, very honored. So shocked, that I didn't question that he never said he loved me and refused my kisses. I also knew that he'd also had some inappropriate sexual encounters and was found masterbating by a parent. I have to call it the first two of the three 'sexual encounters' I knew about, not rape because they did not involve someone who knew better taking advantage of someone who didn't. The last one I would say was rape, he was molested by an older male. I was led to believe that these instances were something he looked back on with shame and sorrow and wished never to think about again.

Our relationship was not what I'd hoped it would be. My hope was that we would be able to work together toward a common goal. I couldn't understand why there was no intimacy ~ not sexual intimacy, but the kind where a couple in love are bound together, attachment, craving to be in each other's presence. Home. I tried everything I could think of, and studied ways I could make that happen. I really don't want to go into detail about our sex lives, but I will say this: I always initiated sex. When I realized this, I would wait to prove to myself I was wrong. Eventually, I would be so depressed and blaming myself that I would initiate again, but I knew I was not cherished in the way I should have been. For a while I saw a therapist, who had my husband come in once and they basically said my issues were my fault ~ the same as what happened to my mother.

Other odd things manifested over time. It became apparent over the twenty years that we were married that those sexual encounters that happened before we were married was not something he looked back at with disdain but with longing. There are things that disgusted me when I found them out that I have an issue sharing them here, but in the interest of identifying the skeletons in the closet I feel I have to. I found out when our daughter was about two years old that my knitting and crochet needles were being misused ~ I won't go into how that occurred, but I did entirely give up all of my knitting for about ten years, only to taking it up with the largest needles. The other thing was that one of those previous instances (before we were married) was with a dog. That craving did not go away as I would have hoped, because I found e-mails requesting that kind of porn (incidentally on our 18th anniversary) that included a very nasty account of the occasion, with the response that this request could not be fulfilled because it was illegal in this country. This happened when I had been refraining from initiating again for the three previous years and was about to capitulate again. Finding this convinced me to give up trying to be close to him, finally. It was not a surprise to me, however, that he found a boyfriend after we were separated. My shock on that score was that I thought he intended to continue to hide that side of him from his family and our daughter.

These individuals are not people I will seek to have contact with. I will be civil if I am ever unavoidably required to be in their presence but I will not share anything about my life with them. Others in my family who would defend them or attempt to force me to associate with them are not individuals I will seek out either. The ones I love won't force me and never have and have always been honest with me when I need to understand, which makes me love them more.

I doubt that these skeletons will every truly change their location, as in out into the open, but they don't scare me. I know that they will receive their judgement someday. I know I won't be standing next to them when it does, because the loud child who doesn't know her place is the squeeky wheel that gets the grease and gets on with her life.

Hockey jacket, hooray!

2010-10-26T15:10:00.000-07:00

My husband's grandson attends NHL Minnesota Wild Hockey games fairly often. So I thought I would create a jacket for him. Using the same seamless raglan pattern I've often used and Lion Brand Wool-Ease worsted in the Cranberry color I started at the neck.
This was the end of the first day. The safety pin marks where increases in the pattern went a particular way.

The second day I made fairly good progress.

I think this was the fourth day, I had a little stripe of the gold color and working into the hunter green at the bottom, with the sleeves on hold. I decided I would create the logo on the back at this point so that I wouldn't have to try to manipulate it later when it was finished and have the full bulk of the sweater working against me.

I found the logo that I wanted to use, and then searched the internet for a FREE chart generator.

I used duplicate stitch to create the logo on the back of the sweater. When that was finished, I worked to the end of the body. I believe this was the progress by the eighth day.

I picked up stitches along the bottom of the front to create pockets. Here is the finished left pocket and the beginnings of the right.

Pockets weren't part of the pattern and neither was the hoodie. I picked up the neckline stitches, the same as for a collar band, added a few for a casing and along the center back to the top then kirchener seamed the crown. I created an i-cord and used spring toggles to finish the hoodie.

Then the left sleeve and the right, with ribbed cuffs.

Try as hard as I might, I wasn't organized enough to sew the zipper in myself, so I called around and found a nice lady at the dry cleaners who sewed it in for me. I think she did a very nice job, as good as I would have done for myself, double stitching the zipper both near the teeth and at the edge of the band, and took care to match the colors. Her meticulous care really finished the whole project.

I took pictures of it and we boxed it up and sent it off to Minneapolis. On Saturday morning, we got a call from a very happy sounding ten-year-old.

It looks like it fits him pretty well too.

Self Storage Manager, Pros & Cons

2010-10-20T12:58:00.000-07:00

I really do like my job.

There are some really cool aspects. For one, I'm home all day. So, I can do all kinds of housewifery things that I've never really been proactive at, like laundry. I'm constantly on the look-out for crockpot recipes and wondering if it's nuts to think I need more than one. I'm not big on baking but the occasional pot on the stove cooking all day is pretty cool. Not having to rely on convenient fast food feels healthier too and probably less expensive. Also, I have two dogs, so they get a walk during the day whereas if I worked somewhere else that may not ever happen.

A lot of people see the commute as the big advantage, which is pretty cool, I admit. My favorite part is that my husband is also here with me and so we keep tabs on each other health-wise and mental-wise. We get lots of affection and can show each other all the affection we crave as long as we aren't making customers or the dogs sick!

In this particular situation we also have all the utilities paid, so don't have the worry about the power bill or the water/sewer/garbage. We take care of the cable and phone bill, but I know in some companies, that's paid for. Not much that I need my car for, occasional runs to the bank or post office, so that cost is greatly reduced too.

One thing that I really love is that on occasion, I'm right where I need to be. So many people are struggling, and this is technically an unnecessary bill for most people. I am able to help somebody, whether it's a listening ear in times of trouble (an elderly woman came in who'd lost her spouse to cancer the night before ~ I had to give her a hug), or directions to the nearest location for FREE moving boxes. A few weeks back, a prospective tenant was confused about what size unit she would need as she needed to get rid of a few pieces of furniture and didn't know how to go about that. I was able to help her photograph and post those items on internet want ads, which sold almost immediately, and she was able to get on with her plans right away.

My tenants have become my community, my neighbors. I get to visit with them regularly and even when they no longer need storage, we have smiles and get caught up when we run into each other in the store, or out walking the dogs.

There are times when I wonder if Self Storage as a career choice was really the best decision I could have made.

As I am a resident, on-site manager, there's a lot of people in the world that think our office is also open 24/7. The other day, a perpetually delinquent tenant pounded (literally with his fist) on all the doors to the office and apartment because he couldn't get in, which got the dogs all riled up and disturbed our dinnertime. For them, this quantifies as an emergency, I guess. There doesn't ever seem to be a time when I am considered off duty, which can make it hard to be social with family, or to get things done for myself that requires I leave the facility like grocery shopping.

Also, I seem to be viewed by people who don't know me as out to steal what's stored here (intent to keep what's here for my own), or to use their personal information maliciously. Nothing could be further from the truth. I really loathe the extra stuff that gets left here, there has been very little of value that I've acquired, and most of that I've purchased because someone said they couldn't use it anymore and it was something I needed. I have a nice, real wood dresser upstairs, and a oak rocking chair that were in units on the facility and became mine that way ~ pretty minimal acquisitions in three years. (Oh, yes, many people see me knitting at my desk and bring me yarn ~ lots of acrylic stuff I can use in blankets or something.) Somewhere in the world, some person in my position must have stupidly done things like that, because I get a lot of ridicule for it.

The absolute worst part is having to auction someones things. I work really hard, beyond what my company asks me to do, to maintain good contact with tenants, and to make sure they are aware what's happening with their account. Even still, I've had to auction a unit or two this year. People treat me as if I'd stolen their things, when nothing could be further from the truth. It amazes me that the people who attend the auctions are so cavalier about it, too. They start calling days and weeks before the scheduled date, trying to pick me for information about the size or contents of the units and when the day arrives, they sign-in at my counter with eyes glazed and dreams of treasures making their cheeks glow. I suppose it's just like with any number of business ventures, people trying to make a living off the misfortunes of others. It makes me very ill during those days leading up to it and until it's over, and resurfaces when the individual who's lost their things calls to ask about it.

I do wish my facility was two or three times bigger than it is, we would like to be busier than we are, but for the most part, I am pretty content with where I am. Especially afternoons like today, where I'm sitting at my desk admiring the sunshine and the initial autumn colors outside my window, with my knitting in my hands. I feel like a contributing member of the human race. And I have the chocolate on my counter and a smile on my face ready for anybody that walks through my door.

For the baby

2010-10-15T16:04:00.000-07:00

I'm waiting for a phone call about a sweater we mailed off a few days ago, so while I hold off posting about that, here's a different project that was recently completed.

A co-worker is having a baby in the next couple of weeks. Well, she's due in another week but she's being induced for health reasons on Monday. Last weekend, a few of us from the company got together with gifts for the, as yet unidentified gender, little one.

A couple of months back I showed you a simple garter stitched afghan, you may remember I referred to another one on the needles. Well, here it is.

Started on August 4th and finished on September 3rd, this is the same square knit from corner to corner with a lace edge. I was using up sport weight in my stash, but still I ended up needing to purchase the lighter blue (I chose blue, not because I suspect the baby will be a boy, but because mommy's got an affinity for it ~ when I filled in for her last spring, it was blue all over the office . . .) because I didn't have the quantity I thought I had and also two skeins of the white to finish the square and complete the edge. The edge, by the way, was from the book 'Victorian Lace Knitting Today' that I have borrowed repeatedly from the library but this was the first time I attempted any of the patterns.

Apparently I didn't get a completed shot of the back of this, so I may have to post the in-progress shot, if I can find it.
Anyway, this is the same raglan sleeve top-down that I've done many times, again adding the collar. I thought I would do the whole thing in mini cables, but then realized it would be too snug and not make the gauge. I began to think of a sleeper I had for my daughter that was a tuxedo style that I loved because it seemed to celebrate her introduction to the world. (In fact, it was the outfit I dressed her in for her first studio portraits at 4 days old.) So I sort of went with the bib design in front and tails in the back. Moss stitch for the bottom, to keep him rooted to the earth and stay with us a long time. This was worsted weight acrylic, and I know you can't see it but I made the button with some of the leftover and one of my stitch marker rings.

Socks, in a fine, possibly lace weight acrylic. I've made this pattern a few times, blue ones for the UPS guy, pink ones for the grandbaby girl my husband's friend was blessed with. And I have just made some yellow ones for the bank teller's baby, who doesn't know if its a boy or girl either.

If you are on Ravelry.com, the pattern for the socks were free. Look for 'Baby Cable Bootie Socks by Dawn Brocco'. Actually there is such a wealth of patterns there, for free and to purchase (some are purchases with profits to charities) that I would recommend anyone who is not already on Ravelry and who knits or crochets needs to get themselves over there.

Hope your fall is starting off smoothly and I will be posting again with the latest project in just a couple days so don't forget to stop back by.

Oh, and just a note about all the acrylic used here: I have been knitting for about 30 years and, while I would prefer to knit with some of the finer fibers, I really can't fit what I would easily consume into my budget. That may be the primary reason but even if I could afford it, I would probably still use acrylic for such as blankets and kitchen potholders (I have crocheted many and my husband loves the ones in our drawer) but for new mommies, I feel very comfortable with making items of acrylic for them. New mommies can get easily overwhelmed, remembering as you toss the little things into the washer 'How was I supposed to wash that?' is not where I want them to be focused. Also, until any allergies the baby may have can be determined, acrylic is less likely to cause problems. I would hate to be the auntie that gave my kiddo that nasty rash.

My nightmare, two years ago

2010-10-06T12:24:00.000-07:00

I very nearly lost my dear Superman, two years ago today.

This was part of a note I sent after that happened.

At 7 am, he woke me. He was ash gray and hurt all over, couldn't really speak to me. We called 911, they were here in about 2 minutes. They took us both by ambulance to a hospital a little further away because they had a CATHlab. Amazing but true: people don't get out of the way of ambulances. We got to the hospital, they were asking me all kinds of questions I couldn't answer like his SSN, his family's health history. Finally, I told them we haven't been married a year yet, I just didn't know. They got him through ER quickly and into that lab for a stent. At 9, just two hours later, I got to see him when they finished with him, he was no longer in pain, had good color and wanted to go home, in contrast to earlier he was VERY talkative and joking with everybody, almost wouldn't shut up!

His stay in the hospital was painful for all of us. Our little rat-terrier, Maggie, has had it tough, at one point I put the phone on speaker and let dad talk to her. That was almost cruel, she perked up but then she ran back and forth from the garage where the car is parked to the back patio door where his truck is parked for almost 20 minutes. I kept the office closed Monday, but I got up pretty early Tuesday to see him before coming back to open the office. Felt like I was running frantically to get back up there in the evening, early again Wednesday. On my way home that morning, he called to say they were sending him home.

He has been full of energy since he's been home. Not too many restrictions since his procedure did not include anything invasive. Our chiropractor came by today, his visit with him was about the longest he was in one place all day today.

Now, the uphill struggle: We need to apply for financial assistance to pay for all of this (we don't have medical insurance), not really sure who will help with what. Also need to find out if his stent will prevent him from flying, he goes to visit his daughter Monday for his grandson's birthday.

A lot of this seems overwhelming to me. The shock of almost having lost him when we'd only been together for so short a time hasn't completely worn off. Occasionally, it comes back to me and starts the tears again. This whole thing wasn't nearly so serious as some heart attack stories we've heard. Or some other stories for that matter. How in the world did they keep it together as well as they did when their loved ones first got sick? I was there with my mom when my step-dad had his by-pass surgery and with my good friend years ago when her husband had his. I was the one keeping everything together and organized in those situations but this time nearly broke me and that surprised me too.

So, I try to focus on the good news parts and the pieces of joy. I try to keep him from being frustrated with anything and keep him calm. I thought I was getting lots of hugs and kisses all day long before but now I can say it's almost constant, we are both so happy he's home. Yesterday, I was as happy as I can ever remember being, it was all I could do not to run outside in the sunshine and dance in the parking lot!

Remembering that day and thinking about all that's happened since, or what wouldn't have happened like getting to meet his grandkids and his daughter, meeting his friends, or adopting the second dog, or even remaining at this facility ~ none of those things may have happened if I had lost him. Losing him so soon after we were married, just two months short of our first anniversary, would have been a tragedy. I remember that they let me talk to him for a moment before he left the ER and headed to surgery and all I could think to tell him was not to leave me already. . . .

We still don't have medical insurance and we are still paying on those bills. Life has not been easy since then but it would have been unbearable if he hadn't been here to march through with me. I try not to think about that, but every day I do. Especially when we get stressed, or things are discouraging, I worry for his heart.

If you had a Superman in your life, I'm sure you would too.

FLOCK & FIBER FESTIVAL FUN!!!

2010-09-27T14:41:00.000-07:00

One of the things I look forward to in the fall is the nearby fiber festival. Here at the self storage place they are one of my tenants. The first year I went I had no idea what it was about, but as a knitter I was intrigued by the 'fiber' in the middle of the event's title and plucked up my courage and went by myself.

The next year, I went, knowing a few of my new knitting group regulars would also be there. I shopped with them a little, but I love to just sit and people watch the best. I'm usually pretty broke, so people watching is pretty fun and low cost (please read that as FREE) for me.

That's what I did this year. I went over and found a spot in the shade and knitted away in my front row seat to the event.
This attendee brought their own fleece! And was as happy with being out in the sunshine as I was.

One of the things that I've heard many people look for when they attend the festival is this nice lady who spins angora wool right off the rabbit. She had two, a dark one and this little treasure. I've heard she also performs this amazing feat at the county fair. I'm thinking kids would be pretty impressed with that.

This gentle creature walked by me also, but I couldn't unclutch my knitting and warm the camera fast enough to get a better shot than this.

One of the things I like watching for is the projects people may have made from the treasures they've picked up in years past. These socks weren't made from festival finds, but I had to get a shot of them. Grandma made the five-year-old grandchild matching socks because she liked grandma's but they didn't fit!!!I think this was an exhibitor with yarn from her store, made into a beautiful jewel-toned shawlette.
This cardy looks like something I would have done. Feather and fan lace is one of my memorized patterns and my 'OCD' would have me sort the colors into this order. . .

A staple of this event is to purchase one of these South American baskets. I haven't purchased one, but I do own one that was left behind in a storage unit. It contains all my little leftovers.

One of the things you can count on seeing at the Fiber Festival is spinning. Some of these ladies are also in my knitting group. There is lots of tools to be found, to spin the various fleeces either on wheels or drop spindles, to the looms, needles and hooks, yarn to be purchased individually or in kits. One of my friends who attended for the first time told me that by the time we met up she was on overload.

I came home content, received lots of compliments on my project, many friendly faces and an afternoon in the sun is always a good thing, especially an afternoon spent knittng.

If you are wondering why I didn't post any pics of the project I was working on, stay tuned. It's to be a gift, the recipient should have it by mid October and then I can show it to you, too.

. . . and May the Fleece be with you.

Beach Time! ~ Labor Day Weekend 2010

2010-09-07T23:10:00.000-07:00

Last winter I wanted to make sure we got to go to the beach this summer. Well, after sitting on pins & needles fretting about the weather, we actually kept our reservation and went. We got there about dinner time on Saturday, this was the view from our picnic table under the pop-up canopy.

Maggie is very happy to go anywhere. She ran back and forth into the waves very playfully. We think it may have been Dori's first time with sand in her toes. She seemed to like it, mostly walking with ears and tail up, sniffing strange things and running as much as I could keep up with her.

The weather was about as near perfect as could be. The only precipitation was some misting both mornings.

The park had some really great paths. This one looped around the airpad, paved for bicyclists, about two miles long.

I was hoping to get a picture of my knitting at the beach, but that didn't happen. Does knitting while blogging count?

The last adventure of August

2010-09-02T21:19:00.000-07:00

I know it's September as I'm posting this and I'm late. It's been a kinda crazy week here at the Self Storage place. I have a afghan I'm trying to finish, I have been working on it for a month. I set a deadline of tomorrow night to finish it. I won't be posting pictures of it for a while as I have some other stuff to do that goes with it, but I will give you a hint: If you read a few posts back you've seen a similar project to the one in my hands.

I have been downloading some other stuff, and with this post I want to share with you. Last weekend, we attended an Art & Air Show about an hour from my house. It was nice to get away for a little while. Performing that night was the band 'America'. Outdoor venue, for 40 years of rockin', these guys still sound very good. I think what came through the best is how much they love what they are doing and appreciate that they are still doing it together. I will post the video on youtube.com again, and the link will be here.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xi4XvOVaG1o

The next day, my walking buddy and I went over to the Dalia show. I took about 120 pictures, and posted the ones that weren't too out of focus over on my facebook profile, so if you came here from there, you've already seen them. I will share a couple of my absolute favorites here for those that didn't see the others.

That's about it for now. I'm hoping to post soon about how my Dori-dog is doing, and when I get this knitting project done. I have some other stuff in my head I'm trying to work through, and I'll probably be posting later about that. In the meantime, appreciate the summer for all it's worth, think the good thoughts for those you love and are far away and we will visit again soon. Happy September, everybody.

The Adventure is 'Journey'

2010-08-22T10:23:00.000-07:00

One of the many things that I love about my Superman is that he sings to me.

Singing, to me, is good medicine. If you are in a car, or in the shower, and you are moderately content with life, you sing. I believe that singing is sending your inner joy out into the world, and, let's face it, the world needs all the joy it can get.

Now, at this point, I could ramble on about all the things I love about him, but for now, let's talk about music. When I was alone, before we met, I spent many weekend evenings watching live music performed by bar bands. I love going to the park to watch the symphony. In fact, if it's free, I would go. I don't care if it's anybody I've heard, or what kind of music.

Nowadays, we don't get out much. It's hard. He tells me all the time about different concerts he's attended. Coming from off the beaten path, he had many occasions to win free tickets to see just about anybody you can think of. I have done that before too. It's really hard in the big city to get in on the contest lines. I probably wouldn't try, unless it was somebody I was hurting to see, but not with much optimism.

We have a bunch of cd's in the truck that we like to listen to, mostly greatest hits of different performers or bands. Not a lot of range, like my own personal collection would have, but it's his truck. On our recent roadtrip, we listened to The Eagles, America, AC/DC, Roy Orbison, Bad Company, Bread, Chicago, Hall & Oats, Santana, Neil Diamond, Bachman Turner Overdrive, Heart, etc. He sang along, it was loud enough I could sing the harmonies and not mess him up.

Earlier this summer, I was looking at all the different bands that were going to be in our area for the summer, wondering if anybody was affordable enough for us to see. Outdoor concerts at the winery, the zoo, the fairs, less expensive than some of the better venues, but at $40 a piece still out of our range, especially if you have to add entrance fees for the fair too.

About a half hour from home are a couple of different rodeo arenas that have events beyond the rodeo gatherings. We heard earlier in the summer about a Journey tribute band and started checking with the hardware store that was supposed to carry the tickets. Journey is one of those cd's we listen to, that he sings along with to me. I remember most of their music very particularly because I worked in a skating rink as a teen-ager where their stuff was played fairly often. We started reading about the cover band, who turned out to be local. Superman was getting more and more anxious about it, as the hardware store didn't get the tickets till about a week before the event. We could have purchased at the door, but this saved us about half the cost, which we really needed.

Finally, the big day arrives and we go out to the arena. The doors opened at 7, and a country band, complete with a talented fiddler, played. Superman felt conspicuous about his hair. I was wearing sandals with a skort and t-shirt, underdressed for the roped-off gravel parking lot, so not any more comfortable than he was. When his band came on after almost two hours of waiting, and struck up their first notes, he was glued to the stage.

Here's the thing I gotta tell ya: My Superman has a big heart, that's been pretty badly broken. He carries so much sadness around with him, plus the physical pain of unresolved health issues, that very rarely do I see him enjoy anything. Yes, I work at it and I do see him smile or laugh, but those are almost rare. It means so much to me to see him happy.

So, when I saw him drawn to this band, I sat back and watched him. I didn't want to break that magic spell. I could see that he was floating, elevated, like people wish heaven could be. I watched the way people reacted to him, I went to him so that they could see he was OK, just really enjoying this VERY GOOD THING he'd found. You must know that in this rural area, country music is king, and southern rock only tolerated, since a lot of southern rock was the rock & roll of the 70's, this band was acceptable only as in-betweeners to the other bands.

We left after they were finished. It was late, the dogs had been locked in the hot house for hours, it had been a very long day (attended a gathering for the company earlier) and we were very tired. It may have seemed rude to leave without hearing the main act, but we weren't the only ones and we were so exhausted we wouldn't have cared if anybody had said anything.

For days, Superman flew. So buoyed by the euphoria of hearing some of his favorite music performed really well by true musicians who were young enough to have the energy to really rock and mature enough to care how to do it well was priceless to him. He had seen Journey in person once, live, after the singer known as Journey's best lead singer, Steve Perry, had left. So, in his opinion the best thing about seeing that earlier performance was the guitarist. This cover band has excellent musicians, but what Superman appreciated most was the guitarist. 'He didn't miss a lick' I heard him say repeatedly. Over those next few days we found the band on the internet. We found that they form parts of other local bands. He 'friended' them on the social networks and got responses! I use the exclamation point there because that's how he felt, excited and grateful to be acknowledged. He saw that they had one more performance scheduled and then nothing else on the calendar as the Journey tribute band, so, he purchased tickets to go to that too, wanted to get a t-shirt for both of us that he didn't at the first performance and didn't get and was truly regretting.

See that smile? It doesn't happen often enough. He's a happy boy in his new shirt.

At this point in the movie tragedy strikes. The particular event was sponsored by a radio station. When we first got there, we were put off by the music being blasted over the loudspeakers. The doors were to open at a scheduled time, but apparently the venue was hoping people came ready to spend money, because they were probably never closed. We were half an hour early, and people had gathering in a banquet room and finding seats at large tables. We listened to other people around us, it felt like they were there, like we were, to hear some of those great songs that trigger happy memories from decades ago. One man was wearing a Journey tour t-shirt, he and his wife were celebrating their 27th anniversary. Another couple was celebrating their anniversary too. A woman in line in front of Superman at the bar said she was wearing a wig and recently had a double mastectomy. I couldn't have told you that from looking at her, she seemed very happy to be there.

I wasn't too impressed with the opening band, and not sure I can identify why. Something seemed off with the sound, the acoustic and electric guitar, the harmonies were like lemon juice and salt in the wounds to my ears. There were a few girls that danced and flirted with them, very drunkenly. We were a little put off but we were looking forward to our band and didn't think anything of it.

They had set up a stage with a dance floor in front of it, seemed like 12x12 feet, but maybe it was 20x20. Once the local radio station guys let our band get started, it seemed incredibly small. I tried to enjoy watching Superman enjoy his music again, and enjoy them also for myself, this was such a treat to see them again so soon, but my aversion to having bodies rubbing themselves on me, being able to smell their drinks, their breath, the product in their hair and the coverup on their pimples began to sicken me very quickly. People kept shoving Superman too, and several times nearly fell onto the stage. We started about four feet from it but were soon mere inches from the band member's feet. After about four songs, he said 'let's go' and I turned and plowed my way out of there, pulling him with me. I was shaking so bad while I drove home that I'm sure I was driving as erratically as all those bad drivers I wished the cops would catch. I sat up for quite awhile after we got home waiting for all that negative energy inside me to fade, but was up to open the office the next morning.

He was online when the guitarist from the band logged on the morning afterwards. It hadn't been that great for them either. The lead singer's wife WAS pushed and fell onto the stage. He said that after just a few songs they looked out to see all their friends and they were gone! There was also a fight that broke out in front of them, and no security came to break it up. I don't think there was ANY security. Superman told them how great it was to see them, but was rethinking the venues to which we would try again. It sounded like that band was pretty disappointed in the end also.

While they were instant messaging back and forth, the guitarist invited us to see them at the private gig that same night. This was the next night after the disaster, and only one full week from the first time we had seen them the first time. We were incredulous. What an honor! I took a nap, Superman tried but I think he was too excited, and after dinner we went. This event was the 20th annual garden party a couple in neighboring suburbia put on. Never having heard of it before, we were unprepared for the professional stage, sound and lighting set up between the garage and the house, among the fruit trees, with lawn chairs in the grass of someone's back yard. We met the man, and tried to thank him at the end, but I'm not sure he understood how truly grateful we were. Certainly the effort he must put in to doing this every year, with the great potential for upsetting the neighborhood was herculean.

And our boys, exhausted as they must have been from the previous night's hellacious efforts, were wonderful. The wanted Superman to model his shirt, but he didn't have it on, so another fellow did, and he felt bad about that, but that was the only bad thing about the evening. He's waiting for me now to download video of the night, but I see he's fallen asleep in his chair now. I think there's a sweet smile on his face.

I couldn't be more happy than if he was singing to me.

(I've tried to post my video of the band but it won't load. You can check them out at http://www.stoneinloveband.com/)

Or you can view the video I posted. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Xrg2ip1Y2s

Easy Garter Diagonal Multi-tasker

2010-08-09T20:30:00.000-07:00

FREE PATTERN ALERT, but I wouldn't start anything till you read through.

OK. I made this little shawl which could also be a blanket, throw or whatever it needs to be. It's pretty simple.

I found some really soft worsted and needles a little oversized. For instance, if the skein recommends US 8 I would suggest a 9. More suggestions at the end, stay tuned!

Cast on 2. Doesn't matter how you do it. 'E' cast-ons are fine.

Knit one and make one from the stitch below. Knit to end. Repeat.

OK. That's the first half of the body of the shawl. How big you want it to be is up to you. I wanted a 45" square, so I knitted until the edges measured 45".

Knit one, knit two together. Knit to end. Repeat.

When you've got to the last two stitches cast off. You should have a garter diagonal square.

Next the edging: I selected one I had used before, the Diamond Edging from the Firmaments Lace Shawl, which I thought the designer found in a pattern dictionary, but can't find it now, except in the pattern for the shawl. It's only about 13 stitches at the widest. (Hint: I wanted the corners NOT to curl so I knit the very tippy tip stitches for two extra rows. Worked peachy!) I knit mine onto all four edges, mitering the corners. You could use just about any edge you like, just realize the size of yarn and needles may affect how the edge turns out.

The original was striped so that I could use up a bunch of my stash. I think this is pretty easy, and am doing another in white sport weight for a co-worker who is having a baby. For a crib size I would say a 28" measurement is needed on one side, however, I will need to continue increasing one side till I get 42", so decreasing one side and increasing the other, to create a rectangle. I will add the picture of that when I have it finished, so check back.

If you try this, let me know how it turns out.

Stitch & Pitch Adventure

2010-08-06T11:33:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, a knitter acquaintance of mine and I took the afternoon off and went up to Seattle to attend the Mariner's Stitch & Pitch game.

I have a difficult time driving past this place, so we stopped and did a little bead shopping. I say 'little' because I didn't spend more than $20 and we were there less than an hour.

Now, before we left I went online to get address and times, miles etc. We hit bad traffic about 10 minutes after the bead store, and having gotten the wrong address for the store we were supposed to pick up our tickets, we missed the start of the game.

We left the vehicle at the store where we picked up our tickets. It seemed about 4 blocks away when we started out but may have been about 3/4 mile. This mural was a pretty thing to see from across the street. Notice the tree has pears on the left and apples on the right side. I couldn't get the whole thing but what this shot is missing is a depiction of Mt Rainier on the left.

Ah, goal is in sight. Actually we drove the west side of the stadium and then the south getting to the store with the tickets. Below this Mariner's banner is a littler one of Ichiro.

No cityscape pic of Seattle is complete without seagulls. This is the view from the corridor near our seats. So basically, the top of the stadium.

The view over Puget Sound, complete with Ferry. I was disappointed for my companion to see Seattle on such a smoggy day, due to forest fires in our western United States, but as she hails from Southern California, didn't seem to think this at all unusual.

Artistic Baseball Bat installation as we entered the stadium.

I had been thinking about all the different baseball movies as I was preparing for this adventure and during the drive on the way up. I was touched by the recognition this poster gives to the AAGPBL, as depicted in the movie 'A League of Their Own'. There's no crying in baseball!

Debbie Bliss threw out the first pitch at our game and signed a pre-release book for attendees.

Finally, after all the traffic, grabbing something to eat and shopping the vendors' wares we made it to our seats to get some knitting done and watch some REAL LIVE PROFESSIONAL BASEBALL!

My favorite, and probably everybody's who watches the Mariners, is Ichiro. This is the view from our seats in his signature 'Warrior Pose' that he takes with every swing of the bat at the plate. He is very limber ~ one thing I noticed that you don't see on TV is that he is constantly stretching during the whole game. Good for him, because it will probably keep him in action for many years to come.The centerfield scoreboard displaying the game's statistics as well as Ichiro's. Yes, they did lose but I believe we were all winners.

Certainly the Ichiro Fan Club, who occupied the top of a couple of sections a a little ways from ours think so.

I had a wonderful time, I want say thank you to Pacific Fabrics & Crafts and the Seattle Mariner's without whom I wouldn't have come home with this pirate booty!

I also want to say thank you to Miss M for listening to me one night at the knitting group, complain about never having seen a live game, get stoked about how cool it would be to do this particular knitting adventure, driving to whole way there and back with her vehicle. Without her, I may never have gotten to do this or have been tempted to go by myself, which would have been unsafe. I also have to say thanks to Superman for bravely taking care of the office when he had much better to do.

And now for my one purchased souvenir: wearing purple wears purple! HAHAHAH!

Why blog as 'Knit Whisperer'?

2010-08-03T13:07:00.000-07:00

Did I ever tell you how I learned to knit?

My mom crocheted. When we were kids, like elementary school age, we would go to the thrift store, I think it was a Salvation Army in our neighborhood, and Mom would find bags of yarn. Some of it was unwanted stash but the majority seemed to be Unfinished Objects (UFO's in the knitting universe) or projects. She would have us unknot the stuff which I believe helped us with problem solving skills, or puzzles. One of her biggest projects was to make each of us, I had four siblings, an afghan in a different theme color. Mine was purple which had been a theme color for me before. To differentiate my socks from my sisters, aside from the fact that they were several sizes bigger than theirs which were very similar in size, she put a running thread of purple in the toes.

I know that once she must have knitted, as there is a photo of my brother in a chocolate brown argyle somewhere, but I don't remember her ever knitting. I only remember her crocheting. Even with her diabetes causing her eyesight to fail, she continued until recently, crocheting blankets for different family members, baby or wedding shower gifts.

When I was in Junior High, on breaks from school, after I got pretty well fed up with reading her Harlequins (they seemed pretty much the same story everytime) I got into her stash of crocheting and found a how-to-knit book and a pair of knitting needles. I learned to knit from a book. After accomplishing all I could from her book, I went to the library. I borrowed books and magazines.

My interest waned in high school, I think, mostly because I was busy running all over the county either walking, riding my bike or the bus in really inclement weather, to get to school or my jobs. I picked it up after I was married. My sister-in-law was pregnant so I crocheted a hideous afghan, the edges weren't anything near straight. I would have preferred knitting but thought it would take forever to get it done and wouldn't have the density to be warm. Another sister-in-law went to a knit shop, spent an obscene amount of money to knit a sweater for herself, and when I said I could knit, she said something to the effect of 'Maybe, but I bet you can't change colors'.

With that dare, my desire for knitting became addictive. I read everything, bought all I could afford. The need to knit to keep my family warm was intense. Shortly after that, the need for any improvement on my own skill to make quality product, as good or better than store bought, fueled my craving for knitting literature.

That was more than twenty years ago. For many years, it was hard to find anything at the library on the newsstands that fed my needs. So many things in magazines seemed to be poorly made. Why so many seams, when it would have hung better knit in all one piece? Why did they use that cast on, a machine knit piece wouldn't have any edges that horrible? This improved the quality of how my stuff is constructed, but the budget spent on materials always having been poor, I was unfairly limited on what I could create.

That, however, did not stop me. If I was limited to only acrylic, then I could created beautiful cardigans that could be shed if the owner got too warm. I was relieved that nothing I made would be distroyed or declared otherwise unusable because the owner didn't understand how to take care of what I'd lovingly stitched and made just for them. I didn't keep anything I'd made myself because, by the time I'd gotten something completed, I'd grown pretty tired of looking at it and just needed it out of my vision. Forever. AND I was fairly prolific.

The outcome of all of this is that no pattern is beyond me. Sure, I get exasperated because things seem to be not completely thought through. For example, one of my current projects is a sweater. The person who created this pattern and sold it, charged actual hard-earned dollars, did not include any stitch counts whatsoever. Fun. I can't imagine that a new knitter would appreciate that and the next time, I will be penciling in my stitch counts. If there is a next time, if I get the chance to do it again.

From time to time then, I am approached by people for help. It happens a lot at my knitting group, which, really, I don't mind. Sometimes rather than rip something out to the beginning, they will allow me to fix the one stitch that messed up the effect of what they are knitting. I try to show them how I'm doing it, but there is so much fear and panic that what they've done is irreversible, I find they are blinded by this fear and they don't see what it is I've done. The next time, they will try to fix it, get frustrated and rip it out, which breaks my heart that all their hard work is gone. Also, I pray that their yarn doesn't get worn from yanking it out in frustration.

Occasionally what happens to me is that a stranger will come in my office door, during business hours, while I'm in my Self-Storage manager mode, and say that someone sent them to see me because they couldn't get through a problem with a pattern they are working on, or don't understand why it is they are not getting through a tough spot. So far, these have all been knitting related, but I could have helped with crocheting as well, just hasn't happened yet.

My husband, who is my hero, my Superman, said after one such visit, 'Wow, honey, you are some kind of Knitting Whisperer aren't you?'

Oh, my. Wouldn't that be nice? I think when I grow up, it would be an honor to help someone out of their stuck place. Anything to prevent them putting down the the handcraft that I love.

Sad days and bad news

2010-07-29T23:21:00.000-07:00

I was on vacation last week. It was pretty nice, but I did have to work very hard at not obsessing about what was happening at the house. My cell phone didn't work outside of the county (a little further than the end of my zip code like I thought) and I did have opportunity to ride back into town to use a phone. Me, trying to be non-chalant with little beads of sweat form on my upper lip while I turned down the first two offers, must be an ugly thing because the third opportunity came up and my Superman told me I was going. So, I went and the power was out and that was that.

For some reason, though, it's been really hard getting back into real life again.

The first couple days felt physically tough. My body ached all over, even the soles of my feet hurt like I had gravel in my shoes, or rocks stuck to my bare feet, but that went away after a couple minutes on the inversion table. Also a ton of laundry, not just a week's back-up but the first load of white socks and undies shocked me ~ the wash water was black! So, all ten or twelve loads had to wash twice. Note: The laundry room is UPstairs. Other than that, bug bites to heal, sunburn doing the itchy peel and everything else is normal.

I expected when I got back that I would have a bunch of messages. Surprise! Nobody missed me. I really hadn't told very many I was going, family in case the worsed happened, and of course my boss knew but . . . . Nothing. Bit of a blow to a bruised ego.

Tonight I found out that a whole lot of people got together and did something a few months back and never said a word about it to the whole lot of the rest of us. Never mentioned it in the planning stage, never said, Oh, won't see you this weekend because we will be elsewhere, no reminiscing about how much fun they had or what they learned in our presence. I can't for the life of me figure that one out. First, they had to lie. Then they had to cover the lie. Then they had to bite their tongues every time conversation or even the pleasant part of the memory drifted into the room. What was so important about getting a group together and going that everybody couldn't know about it? They stole our opportunity of wishing them well on their adventure! And for what? Is there some kind of kick one gets from pulling a cheap wool over someone else's eyes? I very nearly posted this on Facebook this evening:

I'm really loathing people who lie tonight. It bothers me that I care for them and their lies create a poison within them. In a community, village or a family it creates those 'skeletons' in closets and leads only to hurt. For me, it forces me to pretend I wasn't lied to, I feel disrespected and unloved. Besides, do I really look THAT dumb? I guess that answer would be 'YES', because you just did it again.'

Then I remembered nobody missed me while I was gone, so probably nobody would read what I was posting anyway, and I deleted it.

Another piece of sad news: My nephew in the army, stationed in Afghanistan, was watching out after a stray dog there. Apparently, one of the trained military dogs was bit by one of the strays that hang about and an order put out that all of the strays had to be distroyed. He walked him out there and tied him to where he was shot. I feel so bad for my boy, for the tender part of his heart that he has for dogs. He's trying to take comfort in the fact that he was there for him in the end and for him I hope he finds solace.

I could go on about all that I know who are suffering but I don't want to. These were the things that weigh heaviest on me tonight, in my prayers up front. I don't ask for solutions anymore, like when I was young and stupid. I only ask for comfort and healing in wounds that may never heal. I hope that in dreams peace waits for us all.

My vitamins are horse pills

2010-07-28T11:11:00.000-07:00

So, what with all the stuff I feel I can't eat and trying to take care of myself, I've been taking vitamins to suppliment my diet. (Diet in the sense of 'this is what I eat' not 'I'm trying to lose weight.')

A few years ago, I started taking a multi-vitamin, because I knew I wasn't getting enough of some things like iron. I choose one that supports weight loss, not because I am on a diet (meaning 'to lose weight') but because while standing there in the store and looking at all the multi-vitamins, these in particular seemed to have the most B-vitamins. At the time, I was on birth control pills and know that they deplete the B-vitamins in a woman's body so that was my concern. I've learned so much more about B-vitamins since that first decision that I'm very happy that I did.

I was also taking a naproxen sodium tablet with my multi-vitamin to help with pain in my hip, legs and feet which seemed to help with leveling the days of more or less pain. I don't seem to need them in the summer, thankfully.

I read a few years ago that taking cinnamon helps diabetics in processing food as well as vinegar. I take two cinnamon capsules, having a little problem making sure I get the vinegar more than a couple times a week.

Because I have a hiatal hernia, I have pretty much avoided almost all dairy since my mid-twenties. I should have started taking calcium and vitamin D at that point but it never occured to me till after I turned 40. I've seen Dr. Oz mention taking calcium to help the body process fats, which I know I'm getting a lot of (the 'diet' or 'what I can eat'). He spoke with Oprah about it, who complained that it made her constipated and Dr. Oz said she should have been taking magnesium to help the calcium work efficiently and thus prevent getting stopped up. So, I have been taking two calcium tablets with Vitamin D and two magnesium tablets.

Recently, I couldn't find the multivitamins that I had been taking so have had to switch to a Women's Daily and a B-Complex. The only thing other than that I'm taking is a tiny low-dose aspirin which I take to help prevent strokes and heart attacks, for which diabetics are prone. Had to search high and low for a non-chewable one that wasn't full of sugar.

I hate taking these giant pills. There is no way to swallow the whole lot at once, I have nearly choked myself to death trying. In fact, taking more than two at a time is a challenge.

It's really hard for me to understand why a person who eats normally (not me, just a normal person eating three squares a day) can't get the nutrition they need without taking any vitamins. What are we supposed to be eating that we're not? I also don't understand why these pills have to be so gi-normous. Are they really that big to get all that I need into me and not a bunch of inert ingredients I don't need?

Like Forrest Gump, 'That's all I have to say about that.' I'm really only ranting about all the pills, I'm sure there are people out there who think I'm missing something and I should add to what I'm already taking. I don't want to take anymore, and I don't want to hear from people pushing their products as I feel I'm doing my best with what I can afford. It would be so much worse, I'm convinced, if I had prescriptions to take also.

A whole year with my girl, Dori.

2010-07-01T20:25:00.000-07:00

I thought it might be time to blog a Dori update. On July 12th, it will be a year since we brought her home.

To anybody else, it may seem that the things we get excited about with her are very minor. So, let me remind you of what it was like the first couple of days. Dori had been at the shelter four months before we adopted her. She had been rescued from a property miles from no where, that had 200 dogs all fighting for food, water. I can't imagine she had any human contact. Dogs were tied to whatever, there were no trees, a few travel trailers or non-functioning vehicles. There was no grass visible to me in the videos.

Dori came into the house and tried to hide in Maggie's kennel. Maggie wasn't happy about that, but let her. If Dori was taken out of the kennel, like for a walk outside, Maggie claimed her kennel back and Dori was out a hidey hole. The next day, Dad brought home a kennel he found on Craigslist, and then they both had their own hidey holes and all was just fine. She wouldn't leave her kennel, wouldn't go into the next room, the kitchen, for food or water so her dish was placed next to her kennel. The dish has the ability to have a bottle attached so she doesn't run out, but it scared her, so, no bottle. She wouldn't come when called, unless leashed, and then she goes where ever she is lead with tolerance, not necessarily willingly. Because she can do zero to sixty in seconds, she could never be let off-leash. She stayed in her bed all day, never leaving, never roaming. No touching, no eye contact and never talking. If the 'Dog Whisperer' Cesar Millan told her that, she faithfully followed his training: She wouldn't touch us, she wouldn't look at us and she never vocalized anything to us. The one shining, brilliant, bright spot: We took her to a park we liked and immediately it was apparent that this was Dori's park.

Those first few months were agonizing. I read books on dealing with shy dogs. The most helpful was to give her food from the palm of my hand. Also, yawning. Apparently, it is dog-signal to be calm or that things are calm and OK. It took weeks to unlearn putting my hand in front of my mouth when 'yawning'. Covering my mouth was defeating my purpose. I'm sure to her it looked like I was hiding a signal to be calm, how confusing! As much as I love watching 'Dog Whisperer' I wasn't really learning much as he deals with aggressive breeds more often than nervous. I'm still watching whenever he's on, because I need the attitude infusions, but I have to pay more attention to her, herself, and what she's telling me.

After a couple of months, I wanted to get her out of the kennel and more involved in what is happening in her home. So, we took both kennels out to the garage, and I brought down a comforter she had been sleeping on upstairs but had given up for a dog bed in a different corner with a blanket or an old towel on it. She stayed on the comforter in the corner of the living room for months. One day, she must have gotten cold so she walked out of her corner and up onto the loveseat next to her bed. We were amazed because she finally had moved. It had been more than six months. From that point she watches everything. She watches Dad walk around the house, she lets me sit next to her and knit, if something makes her uncomfortable she jumps down and back to her comforter. That's where she gets her treats and her dog dish is still there beside it.

One thing that I was afraid to do was bathe her. I was terrified I would botch it and it would be so mortifying an experience that should would never let me do it again. So, one night, after she'd become extremely oily, when Maggie and Dad had left the house, I went upstairs and called her. I 'yawned' over and over, puttering around the bedroom, gently, nonchallantly closing the doors so if she became frightened she couldn't escape, gently approaching and scratching the chest area between front legs and unclipped the collars, picked her up and carried her to the tub in the bathroom, let her sniff around, then turn the water on low pressure, and let her check that out and the puddle forming a pool, showed her the shampoo bottle and let her smell the open end, scooped little handfuls of water over her back then a little shampoo in my hand and started lathering her up. All very slowly, never saying anything but little whispers 'yes, yes' (trying for positive assurance). Slow, gentle massaging, starting to rinse when the water was starting to chill. At one point she put her paws up on the edge of the tub, it felt that she was looking for escape over my shoulder but, not seeing one, she just rested her muzzle on my shoulder instead. I almost cried. I know I teared up. When I thought I had all the soap off of her, I wrapped her in a towel and picked her up out of the tub. I sat on the floor of the bedroom and rubbed her with the towel for a very long, slow time, maybe half an hour, because she allowed me to and I think it was very calm, comforting for both of us. I never gave a dog a bath before so for me, this was a very positive experience I could do again.

After that, there may have imperceptible changes. She 'tags' me. She walks up to me when she thinks I'm not looking or not paying attention and touches her nose to the calf of my leg. At first I tried to reach down and pet her in return but she has always been afraid of anybody reaching for her in any way, whether the direct bending down to her, crouching down to her level or the recommended non-aggressive sideways approach. So, I just let her touch me and then make a point of eye-contact with her so she can see me smile. Sometimes, I blink my eyes and 'yawn' and she seems content with that. I have also found that she is completely comfortable to my leaning down, usually sort of sideways, and just hanging my hand, the back of it to her so she can smell, usually she does touch her nose to the back of my hand, making contact with me that way. We will do that several times a day now, mostly when we walk. I think we 'make contact' this way, her way, gently, non-aggressively, calmly maybe 20 times a day.

There have been a few mishaps. She is afraid of the dark and loud noises. I work really hard at 'ignoring' her fears. I 'yawn' and keep going the direction we were headed. But, occasionally, I don't think she takes full advantage of the last walk before bed and a few times she has urinated indoors. The training of the pack leader! We try to be more considerate of giving her more opportunity to get her business done. Another thing we found is that riding in the truck for very long, maybe more than 5 minutes makes her sick. We have tried a couple things to help her, like holding her on my lap so she can see the world pass her by, feel the wind in her face. That seems to help some. For longer trips, we make sure she has her kennel hidey-hole, and half an over-the-counter motion sickness pill. When we first brought her home, she still had a little rib showing, by now she has filled out a bit. She has been fighting tapeworms ever since we brought her home, this last time we treated her with something prescription strength from the vet at the shelter. It seems apparent to me that she probably had them from before the rescue by the shelter, being walked by every different shelter personnel they may not have noticed she had worms and never treated her for them. The vet suggested that maybe she was being re-infected and I said 'I didn't think that likely as the other dog hasn't had them and they are not outside dogs.' I think I may have been defensive, but I was more concerned about her than placing blame. If this stuff finally does it, like everybody else seems so confident it will, then she may put on a little more weight, and finally the gaunt rib look will disappear.

We try to make a point of walking every day. She insists on walking as far in front of me as the leash will allow. That bothers me, but I have not yet figured out how to overcome it completely. In the last three weeks, after being completely worn out from Dori's pulling out front (we just don't walk fast enough!) and Maggie's dragging behind like an anchor, finally getting home and needing a nap myself, I decided to tether them to each other. That seems a little better, it forces Maggie to move more with the rest of us instead of her own independent speed, and it has slowed Dori down. In fact, on the way out she is beside me while we walk, where she should be, I guess. On the way back, Maggie's brakes are lifted a bit, she knows we are on the way back to Dad and breakfast, and she is more compliant with the pace. I take them for a long hour in the morning, then, if the sun hasn't set and it's not raining, we go for a short walk in the park as soon as we can get there after closing the office. The afternoon walk is all four of us, something she recognizes when it's about to happen and we are nearly ready to go, she begins to make squeaky whining noises. If she is on the loveseat, she stands up, tail curled up over her back and almost talks by whining. She still has a difficult time moving herself out the door, we are trying to patiently wait her out, however, on occasion we have to put the leash on her to get her out the door. It is very cool when she goes all the way out the door and lets us leash her then. It is also a treat for us to finally hear her making a noise of any kind.

When we come back from the park, I would get out of the truck and take her with me, walk through the house out to the patio, where I take off her leash and open the gate to the patio. We wait for the engine to turn off then I say, 'Where's Daddy?' and we run around the truck to where he steps out and says, 'There's the pretty girl!' Her tail is up and she runs back to the patio and paces circles, tail up, until we let her in the house. A few times, I left Dori in the truck, but when I opened the patio gate, I can see her head, she is leaning her paws on the console of the front seat, to see me when the truck is parked. She has also done that the few times I've stayed in the truck until it's at the patio and parked, to see we are home.

So, a few months back, we went away for the weekend. Hard to find someplace to go that will let the dogs come but internet searching finally yielded a few different options. So, we loaded up some camping gear, gave our little girl her half a little pill, finally got into the truck without stepping on the Dancing Maggie too many times and went. We stayed in a little self-contained cabin, nothing outstanding for us, but for Dori, it was totally new. When things seem to settle down in the evening, she roamed around the cabin. (This was something she had not done at home. Ever.) She sniffed everything, cleaned out her food dish and had a little water, checked out what Maggie had in her dish and sampled. Maggie doesn't touch kibble when she's on adventure, so that was OK with everybody. Her kennel was beside the bed, so when we went to bed, she slept in her kennel comfortably. We walked a lot that weekend, she enjoy the trailwalking everywhere we went. So, adventuring was an adventure for her too.

Something really new that I wish I could get a picture of: Sometimes when I look over at her after having walked or come in from somewhere, I will see her with her head up, high, her mouth open and almost smiling. When I can catch that I will post it, because it is about as cool to see her do that the sun set or a completely blue sky after months of rainy winter.

In the last few weeks, I did a bad thing. She's actually emptying her water dish more frequently now, so, I thought I would put a bottle on it again, but instead of the big scary two-liter bottle I would put the little innocent 8-ounce one we came home with from somewhere. Well, that little thing was pretty scary too and she stopped drinking her water. We thought if we just waited a couple of days she would get used to it. Nope. She began to roam the house looking for other sources of water. Maggie's dish has the gi-normous two-liter bottle on it, really scary, but hey, her food is tasty too. So, rather than taking the bottle off the dish, I put a bowl of water on the kitchen floor wwwwaaaaayyyyy over on the other side of the room. She walks around the rooms a little more now, usually in the evening, and has even gone so far as to step into the office and take a look around. I'm not taking that little bottle down. I just heard her drinking from that bowl . . .

UPDATE: I has a Garden!

2010-06-15T18:27:00.000-07:00

Note: DID YOU SEE THE PHOTOS I ADDED TO THE LAST POST?

Well, we got the news today that there was a plot available. ALREADY! So, Welcome to Community Gardening.

My friend who is going to share the plot with me and I went over and checked it out. It's 20' x 20' and has been tilled last weekend. It rained today right after we were there or we would have went over and worked on it some.

The only kink in the works is my husband doesn't want fertilizer on anything he'll be eating. One of the Community Garden rules is that everything you do must be organic. Lots of challenges there. There was a bag of Organic Chicken Fertilizer left there, apparently donated to the gardeners, but I won't be using it on my half of the plot. A local nursery left some tomatoes, squash and pumpkin plants, but they don't look too healthy, so, I probably won't get to use those either.

Right at the moment, my only plan is to take the peas over there so they can spread out. Also the cucumbers. I'm trying to imagine what else where I could do that will get eaten. Maybe a lot more artichokes, although not the time to move any that I might get. Spinach would be nice. The lettuce in the neighbor plot is doing really well, in spite of all the bunnies in the nearby blackberry bushes.

Mary, Mary. How does your garden grow?

2010-06-13T20:52:00.001-07:00

This year's garden started with three artichoke plants, given to us by a friend of my husband's, who said, 'two of the plants were just for looks'. Not sure what he meant by that, and at first, they were so limp that I was sure that the two-to-spare was a good thing.

We have the hanging pots out again this year. After a trip to a local nursery on about the first of May, we came home with three peppers, a green, a red and a gold, two tomatoes, one cherry and one for slicing, four cucumbers. We added six peas after a stop at the drug store.

Every body seemed pretty stagnant for the first few weeks. I'm really trying not to over water them. I think the reason our harvest last year was so very minimal was because I'm from a very dry climate where we spend a great deal of time watering every morning and this area has it's own watering program pretty much.

So, for the next few weeks it rained, showered, down poured, sprinkled, and pretty much every other kind of precipitation you could imagine. In abundance and then some. I did not water, but I have been concerned that everybody was drowning out there. The few days the sun did shine we pushed that whole set around the pavement trying to catch every ray we could.

Yesterday we had our first eighty degree day. I'm sure I heard huge sighs of relief out there, quite possibly a Choir of Angels. The cherry tomato has about 30 - 40 blossoms on it, maybe half a dozen on the other but it has also grown at least a foot taller. The artichokes have taken off and the cucumbers have added a few leaves. The peas have sprouted plenty of blossoms, there are two pods, one of them is almost two inches long. The peppers all have bead-size buds on them. These are upside down, in buckets from last year's attempt at inverted tomatoes.

We went back to the nursery and added three more peppers to our collection. Now, we have two gold and two red and a Purple one. (You knew that was going to happen didn't you?) We were looking for a cage for the tomato, but the one at the nursery seemed expensive so we didn't get it. Came home and re-potted the newbies and gave everybody some plant food.

A couple of plants have had some gnawing on them, one of the cucumbers is nearly gone. A tree outside of the patio has similar chewing going on, but I don't see any bugs. Talking with others, including my mom who came for a visit a couple of days ago, it could be earwigs. I don't seem any slugs or evidence of any. We picked up an organic pesticide today, too, and will have to address the issue of bugs on the tree the next regular visit with the pest control people.

On a completely other note, the roses out front had a huge aphid thing happening earlier this spring. I sprayed them down with dish soap like everybody said, but I think the thing that may have saved them was one of my knitter buddies (the one that walks with the dogs and I every non-rainy day) came over the last week of April and showed me how to use a rose systemic that she had a little of. So, will have to add that to the garden supplies, too.

She and I have had some really good news this last week. Everyday, we walk past a community garden and wonder how does one get in on that. Well, I finally heard back from someone about that and we are number two on the waiting list. They have one plot left for this year and seven new going in next year. We will share a 20' X 20' plot, plus the stuff at home. We are both apartment dwellers, she and her daughter have filled her patio and little garden area, and except adding more pots and re-using more buckets, I don't have anymore growing area here either, and think that sharing the one plot will be plenty.

Now, our morning conversations are all about making lists about what we'd like to grow and wondering what might be productive. Also, a few laughs about 'should I knit some overalls?'

Pics from Memorial Day weekend

2010-06-02T10:37:00.000-07:00

We went camping over Memorial Day weekend at a State park about an hour from home. So nice to get away.

Some lavender bleeding hearts, they were all over the park. Also lots of wild berries like raspberries, strawberries, blueberries were everywhere.
These reminded me of soldiers. Birch Tree Soldiers in formation and falling out along the side of a path.

Beautiful covered footbridge.

Rainforest setting, lots of moss in the pine trees.

This is one of the ten beautiful waterfalls located in the park.

2010-04-18T21:01:00.000-07:00

We needed time away, and, after much searching we found someplace to camp that allowed dogs. Plus the area is scenic, a location we'd neither of us been to before and the weather was supposed to beautiful.

We thought it might help with the car sickness if Dori had a little walk in her park before we actually hit the road. She was calm and slept all the way, in her kennel behind my seat.

Maggie was right at home and anxious to go adventuring as soon as we got in the truck.

Here's a few shots from around the campground.

There were very calm dogs in the next cabin. They were very helpful to get Dori out of her place of fear.

OK, not permanently, but every step is a step closer.

The cabin was cute. Here's a bit of it.

This 'deluxe' cabin is about the size of my daughter's studio apartment. Well, maybe her apartment is a little bigger. But not much. Cozy and rustic most definitely.

It's amazing how easy it is to get a picture of the whole pack if the camera has a self-timer. We just sat it on the picnic table and here you go!

Today we walked around the actual locks, that have become obsolete due to the dam down the river. The weather was beautiful, the area was very scenic and the dogs loved it.

Me and the girls, taken by Dad.

Sails on the water upriver.

The bridge over what used to be the locks and the museum. Beautiful mountains make for a beautiful day.

To Mr. Man

2010-04-01T21:17:00.000-07:00

April 2010

Dear Step-Grandson, This is your other Grandma. I thought I would write you a little note and send it with the package for your sister's birthday. I hope that is OK with you.

I am looking forward to meeting you this summer. It will be hard for everybody to travel so far to be there, but I hope that once we are together all the effort will be forgotten and we will have a lot of fun. Your Grandpa loves to go camping and being in the wild. We are bringing our dogs, do you think you will bring yours? Maggie was Grandpa's girl before I met him and he tells me she is a trail dog. I know she is very good at figuring everything out with her nose and she will have many things to smell when we go camping. Dori, the new dog, will get to learn something new about being in the outdoors at the same time I'm learning all about you. I hope we both learn a lot.

I like to hear that you like to read. I wonder what kind of books you are reading. I hope they are interesting and fun. I like to read a lot too. I love to go to the library and get any book to read without having to worry about money. As long as you have it back in time so that someone else can read it! We get a lot of movies from the library, too. Right now, we have 'Where the Wild Things Are' to watch. Grandpa and I didn't get to see it when it was at the theater, have you seen it yet? I hope it's good.

I think about you and your sister a lot. I like kids. I have a daughter, but she's not a kid anymore. Sometimes I miss when she was little and we played together. I look at all the pictures your mom has sent me of you and I think about what you must be like. You have a nice smile, but I think sometimes you have a hard time smiling and I hope that you are happy on the inside so that you will learn to smile more. I like your nose, I think I see freckles on it! I have freckles too. You have a forehead that probably has messages on it. I bet people can see on your forehead when you are thinking very hard or something is confusing. Your ears don't stick out like mine did when I was small, that's good. You have nice cheeks that someday the girls will kiss, but for now they are smooth so that when dust or tears fall on them, they wipe away quick and clean. When I look at your eyes, I think they look very smart, like you can see what things are and you can see when people are telling you the truth or trying to trick you.

I know that you are a big boy, next October you'll be 10 years old. That is a big deal, huh? The number '10' is two numbers, not one anymore. How cool will that be? That will be half full-sized! I remember when I was 10, I thought I was half a grown-up. What do you think being 10 will be like?

Well, Grandpa wants to get this packaged wrapped and off to the Post Office. If you have time, you can write me back. I would like that, but if you don't think you have anything to say, that's OK too. When we see each other this summer and get to know each other, we will find a lot to talk about. ~grandma

Trouble in Paradise

2010-03-30T22:56:00.000-07:00

So last week we had a break-in. By 'we' I mean my facility. The self storage facility I manage.

It was discovered by my dear Superman. On Monday, he was doing his regular lock check that he does every week, usually on Mondays and Fridays and he discovers a unit that is missing it's lock but still has things in it. Then he discovers a unit that had been recently vacated but there are things in it, so he puts one of our protective locks on it and makes a note to give the tenant that left a call, and another note to call the first tenant to call her and tell her she forgot to put a lock back on her unit, assuming she'd been in her unit over the weekend. These were inside a hallway, and, as he continues down the hallway, he finds another unit missing it's lock, not to be presumed that they've moved out, so he makes a third note. A little ways further down the hallway he realizes somethings up. We almost never have a tenant forget to replace their lock when they've been in their units and now here's three, then a fourth, and now five. He looks around for the missing locks and doesn't see anything, the hallway is clear.

Now at the moment he's discovered this, I had been out on my morning walk with the dogs and was at the back gate, which has to be opened from inside the facility or by the computer in the office. Our usual procedure is for me to call him using our cell phone to let him know we were at the gate. I tried him for ten minutes. Clearly, the girls and I are not getting in this way, so we walk around the block to the front of the facility. I've neglected to bring my keys this time, so once we get their, if he's not answering the door, I'll have to let myself in through the front gate and walk around the facility to get the dogs into the apartment and then go find him. I'm trying not to imagine he's collapsed and dead somewhere, but that's the only reason I can think of for him not to answer my phone calls. When we get around to the front, I see him standing by the golf cart by the back gate, instant relief for me. He doesn't see me because he's looking for me from the other direction, but Maggie sees him and she runs to him. When I see his face, I can see something is wrong, not with him personally but he knows something I don't.

He says, he's found five units with their locks cut. We wonder to each other what could have happened, as we walk back to the apartment and back to the computer in the office. I access the gate program on the computer and search to find that none of these tenants were on the facility over the weekend. It appears that we had a break-in and there were five tenants whose units were broken into. My boss is off sick for the day, so I call her boss, who's taking calls for her. She's sick too and I feel awful for calling her, but I need to know what I should do. I don't want to set myself for blame but I want to protect my tenants. She tells me not to assume anything was taken till they come and verify anything is missing. So, I make the five toughest phone calls I think I'll every make. I tell the tenants we've had some vandalism on the facility and their unit is missing locks, I've put my own on them to protect the contents but when could they come down and verify that nothing is missing.

The first lady showed up, but thinks nothing is missing. So, she leaves. The second couple show up, stuff is missing, I call the police. While I'm waiting for the officer to show up another tenant arrives and opens her unit to find things are missing. Everyone complains that the contents of their unit have been gone through, but the couple are angry with me and tell me, they are moving out. I try not to take it personally, but if everybody is that upset that means I will have 5 new vacant units.

The officer arrives, I let him speak with the upset couple. The other tenant calls her fiance and asks him about a stereo that she can't find. She also files a report with the officer and leaves. The fifth tenant is elderly so he won't be coming immediately.

In front of the tenants I give very little information to the officer but I tell him I have some information which might be helpful. He does tell me, in front of the frustrated people that the local police department used to get called here all the time. I say, not in the years that I've been here and he agrees with me because I'm unfamiliar to him, and he says that's a good thing. (I'm glad about that because the angry people cooled off after he said that.)

So, he takes all the names and phone numbers, makes notes of missing items and gives me his cell number on a scrap of paper. Then he leaves. I thought he would be stopping to talk to me in my office but he didn't. I let it go at the time, because I think he'll come back or call me later. Nothing. I called on Tuesday and left a message, he doesn't return my call. On Wednesday, the fifth tenant, an elderly man, came, I called the officer again and left a message he doesn't return. The tenant said he didn't think there was anything missing anyway and, he hadn't been in the unit in years and didn't really know.

On Thursday, a different tenant came into my office after a short visit to her unit and says 'There's a lock on my unit that's not mine.' So, I lock up the office and go out there with her, in the meantime her husband arrives. It's not my policy to cut locks myself, even locks that have to be cut for auction are taken care of by a company employee sent out to take care of it. However, clearly they can't get into their unit because of this strange lock, I ask for permission to have my husband use whatever he might have to cut it. Once into the unit they realize a large chest of tools are missing, so I call the police again, first the previous officer (but I don't bother with the message on voicemail again) then dispatch for the department. They sent out another officer. I explain to him that we have had to cut the lock off this unit, we'd had some issues this week, but these tenants are missing items. While he's taking their statements, I look around to see if there are other locks like this one and find two more. When the officer is done I tell him what has been going on around here.

When I get back up to the office, I call the other tenants who's locks match this strange one. The officer has left but comes back when they verify that these locks aren't theirs either, and in fact he cut their locks with our tools. One of the ladies doesn't think anything is missing but gives her information and takes the new officer's business card. The other tenant says a chair is missing, so she gives information a files a report as well.

Now, I tell the officer directly and to the point that I know who the culprits are and I have the information, will he please come up to the office so I can show him which he does.

No one can enter my facility without using their own personal code. Each tenant has their own personal code. One of the codes for a unit in that hallway was on the facility for about 10 minutes on Saturday night, then came back for a half hour about mid-day on Sunday, about an hour at dinnertime and another 10 minutes before the gates close for the day. The time on the facility totals an hour and fifty minutes. The clincher is: They can't get into their own unit. A few months ago they became delinquent and we had to have our fellow cut the lock so that we could seal it and prepare to auction the unit. They brought the account up current, and were too busy to go to their unit with every payment each month after so that I could take my protective lock and the seal off the unit.

Which begs the question: Why be on the facility nearly two hours when you can't get into your own unit?

I also have a little personal information about these tenants. At one point in recent months the daughter wanted to transfer responsibility of the unit to the mother. However, mom didn't have a valid driver's license or state ID card. The daughter told me this was because she'd recently been incarcerated and the mom told me she didn't want to bother with the expense and hassle of getting a new one. So, I told the officer, I don't know what for but I know the mother has a record. He makes note of all the personal information he has on both ladies, photo copies of all my gate records which recorded that they or someone with their code entered the facility. The officer says he is off the next few days and will call me back on Monday when he is back at work.

I didn't wait for him to call me on Monday. We get to talking about that one unit we suspected things had been left behind. That tenant seemed pretty thorough and I was pretty sure we checked after he was gone that he'd vacated the unit. So, my Superman and I go out to look at the things in this unit. I notice there are some wicker chairs and think one of the tenants had said he was missing wicker chairs, but I didn't think these were the right ones because he said they had specific cushions on them and these didn't have any. We continue to look through the items and find an old driver's license for that first tenant that said 'nothing was missing' from her unit. We immediately stop what we're doing and call that officer, who comes back almost immediately. With rubber gloves on he goes through the contents very thoroughly looking for proof of who these things might belong to and looking for smudges that might be fingerprints, but only finds one as everything is pretty well textured and can't get a viable print off of anything. I stood there, wishing I could help but realized I'm as much of a suspect as anybody else, so just watched him do his thing.

He tells me that while he was off he found that both the mother and daughter are in the criminal system, meaning they are on parole and have officer's to report to. He also says the daughter's boyfriend was busted for possession of meth last month. He's also found a pawn ticket in this county that he's hoping to go check on soon.

By the time he's finished, I'm pretty well frozen, so I'm having hot tea at my desk when one of our favorite tenants come back from their unit. I go out to the parking lot to meet him because he appears upset, and he says there's a strange lock on his unit as well. My Superman went out there with him to confirm that he had the right unit (we couldn't have thought this was one of the same as the others as it was on the OUTSIDE of the same building), but he calls me on the cell and says it's another of those strange locks. The nice helpful officer came right back and they make a statement, too.

So, here's what I think happened. The people I suspect, (I won't call them tenants anymore, I'll explain in a minute) or someone they gave their personal codes to and the code to the interior door came on the facility that Saturday and see that it didn't do them any good because they can't get into their stuff. So, either out of vengeance or seeing what appears as an opportunity to get something for nothing, they go and purchase a bolt cutter or whatever tools they need and a package of four locks. The bolt cutter can't get them into their unit because I've put a protective lock on it, but it gets them into the unit directly to the left of theirs. Bingo! They find a stash of tools that might net them quite a bit of money from somebody. They find a few other power tools, close that unit and put one of their new locks on it. I'm not sure if they were thinking they might come back or that they will hit it again later. That was a great haul so they try the unit directly to the right, where it seems they only found a stereo and, for some reason, not worth one of their new locks. The try the unit directly across from theirs, realize it's smaller on that side of the hallway, put one of their locks on it, take nothing but don't touch anymore units over there. Now, they start skipping units or perhaps looking for locks easy to cut so they cut locks a few units away in either directions. I don't know in what order. One of the units way down the hallway is stuffed to the gills, so they take things from that unit and put in an empty unit across the way. After awhile of not finding anything they go outside. They realize that right next to where they parked their truck (I'm assuming it was a truck but it might have been a van, something large enough to fill with their booty) they see another lock they can cut like the ones inside the hallway. They get into that unit and take power washer, welder other tools.

What they fail to realize is that I can trace them, I can figure out who was on my facility any given day.

This has really taken it's toll on me though. I'm not sleeping well in the weeks since this all began. My tenants are my neighborhood and my community, mostly because I don't often get to leave the facility, or if I do, I'm only gone a short time, with a panic to get back and make sure all is well. So, I get to know everybody here pretty well. I see them when they come to make payments, if they are in and out during office hours, I watch to let them out and wave at them as they roll past my office window. I make sure there's chocolate on my counter for them, for some reason, that by itself has made people slow down and visit more and seem to become friendlier. I've had problems letting anybody else sit at my desk, even my husband for fear they will not get the same results they get from me.

That's going to be an issue when I need time off. How in the world am I supposed to leave for vacation this summer, if I can't let myself allow somebody else to take care of my people? And I MUST go on vacation because this will be my first opportunity to meet my husband's grandchildren, kids I've spoken to on the phone several times and who always call me 'Grandma' in those conversations and in their notes.

With these particular people though, these culprits, they have completely broken my trust. I am so upset with them on so many levels. After a week, they have not bothered to call and ask why they are locked out of their own unit, which makes it obvious now that there must be some guilty things going on. So, I've sent them eviction notices. I can't have them here anymore. Not for me, not for my tenants. It just can't stay the same.

My husband is worried though. I didn't specify a reason for them to go in these eviction notices. So, if anything is said as to 'why?' I'll just have to play just as stupid and find an excuse.

Which also makes me feel less than human. Hopefully not for long.

UPDATE: I didn't originally post this because it was written after several nights of little to no sleep. I thought I might delete some of it or change it, but after all this time, I can't change any of it.

The people I suspected have finally moved out. The mother kept coming in here to plead for anything she could get, but in the end, her begging just made me want her gone more urgently. When we finally allowed them access to their unit, she rode in the backseats of different vehicles crouched down or laying on the seat so as not to be seen. Yeah. I'm not understanding that. I just wanted her to get in, get her stuff and get out.

I did have to do a little extra work to contact the facilities in my company around me, to prevent this from happening to my 'co-workers'. With the information given to me by the helpful officer, I stressed how bad a situation like this could be, that I hoped they could avoid leasing any space to them. They did attempt to lease from these facilities, without success, using other phony names. Thankfully, because of laws that have been instituted after 9-11, nobody can lease any storage units legally without valid ID.

This whole episode has made me very anxious about leaving the facility for any length of time or for any reason. I'm constantly checking the gate logs recorded in the computer, much more time spent at my desk even in off hours. We have made reservations for a couple of different getaways but I can't focus on them. When I do, the stomach gets tight and the headaches start. I have come up with several reasons to tell my husband leaving is not a good idea, and in a typically male way, he comes up with solutions for each of my objections and walks away thinking he's solved it. I wish I could make him hear what I'm saying. We got in a huge fight about a week ago about this, because in order to take a vacation, we have to leave the facility in charge of a relief person. I reserved a temp the company has listed, we have not met him. My boss is happy because he can get through the paperwork to her satisfaction, but he won't know what to keep on the watch for particular to this place.

What seems incredible to me to admit is that, although this could have been so much worse, for me this was pretty bad. I cannot stop thinking about it and needing to go lookout on things. As for everything else, I often wish I could just be left alone to do my best with what I have. I know I don't need more, and I could be happy.

Wanna Feel Good?

2010-03-23T18:17:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure how well this will work so you'll have to tell me.

I tried to catch a little bit of the Real Dog, hiding inside my rescue dog, Dori. I hope it not too dark and I hope you can HEAR her, because she, so far, does not make any other audible sounds except to bark in her sleep.

I taped this today as soon as we closed the office. I walk the dogs in the mornings, nearly every day, for about an hour or as long as an hour and a half. If it's nice out, and now that there is sunlight later, we try to work in another walk at our favorite park.

Notice the tail.

Bonnie Hunt, at the end of her show everyday, does this 'Feel Good Moment of the Day' for her viewers. This may be mine.

PS. I will replace this if I can get a better one. Check back, OK? ~wearingpurple

It must be spring, 'cuz there's a new me and she's rather stupid.

2010-03-17T19:00:00.000-07:00

If you've been here looking for a new post and disappointed that I haven't had anything to say, I have to apologize. But personally, I think you've been better off without me.

Lately, I've been finding myself being really stupid. (I almost said 'Blond' but some of my favorite, most intelligent, highly respected people are fair-haired so can't go there, really, anymore.)

First there were plenty of days where I would wander from room to room, trying to figure out why I was there, remembering and going back, but forgetting again. Short-term memory failure, I guess.

Much of that could be attributed to the stress that I gave myself, messed up paying our bills. Not just a little thing, but HUGE and INTENSE. Somehow, the truck payment didn't get made. I thought I did it and I should have checked after a day or two to make sure it went through, and it hadn't. Part of the problem is that the loan has changed banks and now we don't get a statement anymore. (Really, I don't get that. That's like asking for the payment not to be made.) So, for the last few months, we've been making double payments. Which means, no extra for anything. The stress of not having any to spare for even a tank of gas or fast food for dinner when you don't feel like making it is making me grey-haired and a bit ulcer problematic.

So, a while back, we got a virus/worm (or both) on our computer. I stayed up pretty late on a Friday night trying to fix the issue myself, and when I couldn't, hours on a Saturday morning with a tech guy in India trying to fix it, and added a major purchase on a credit account I had been trying to pay off a little faster than others because, like a store card, it has a higher interest rate. The other pissed-me-off factors included realizing that not only is my computer remotely being serviced in another hemisphere of my planet, but it wasn't even made in America, either. But the lame commercials are purely American-made stupidity! And then realizing that months ago when I signed up for a virus protection and have been paying $x a month for it, that I never installed it. (Picture Homer Simpson smacking his head 'D'oh!') Yep, due to my fear and loathing for downloading ANYTHING I never completely installed the virus protection that would have saved me $250 in computer repair bills.

The Current Episode of Stupidity happened today. For the last week and a half, I have been feeling less than my normal wellness. I've had an ache in the back of my throat and in my head that goes from my left jaw joint up around behind my left ear and radiates around the back of my head to the top. Plus lots of heaviness in my sinus and the eyeballs feel like burrs in the eye sockets. All this time, I'm thinking I'm fighting a cold, my immunities are reduced due to stress and anxiousness over an employee meeting I had on Monday. I thought that was it so clearly that, I expected to be fully recovered in the wee hours after that meeting was over. Imagine my surprise when this morning, I woke up with those same aches in my head. This morning at about lunch-time the UPS driver pulls in and complains of his allergies. (Replay the Homer Simpson image.) I haven't walked the dogs in the morning for about a week and half because of my allergies, not a cold-bug! Aaagh! About 20 minutes later, I logged in to my e-mail and my walking buddy is having the same epiphany herself. I guess I should be glad I'm not the only one. However, I missed out on knitting group and a visit to my mom's that I had been planning to make last weekend, which I still won't get to this weekend because I'm covering another office so that a co-worker can finally get away (She lost her mom in January and has had no time for rest since).

Other marbles rolling around in my head include:

An intense desire to cancel my health insurance through work. I am having deducted $75 for company provided health insurance THAT NEVER DID cover ANY supplies to monitor my diabetes. Now, the coverage does not cover ANY prescriptions. I have been hanging on to it in case of catastrophic health development, but at this point, I'm really wondering why I'm doing that. Considering too that it doesn't cover my husband, and I'm feeling entirely in the right to make such a decision.

I have a special event coming up that I want to wear a dress to. I have sworn off the shirts and skirts that have been my dress attire for years because of sizing issues: Bigger sizes required on top than on bottom. The reason I'm going strictly with dresses is because I have had it up to there with the waistband rolling down from the diabetic-belly and off the smaller proportionately butt. So, I'm going with straight or princess cut, no-waistband dress. However, I need a slip. I did not realize how hard it would be to find a full slip. Many of the styles I'm finding are modesty cut, which means that apparently if you are wearing a slip it must cover from head to toe. I am having a tough time finding one that is not longer than the knee and I can wear a modest but open neckline with, plus is affordable. I'm contemplating getting a camisole tee-shirt with the teeny straps and about a yard or two of a nice fabric, eyelet or something else pretty and sewing it to the bottom of the camisole. I used to make these for my daughter when she was little. It started with a onesie and a wide piece of lace sewn on when she was a baby and went from there.

The knitting projects are dragging. I finished socks for my military nephew, a sweater for my step-daughter, another sweater for an (Haitian) orphan. I got a really great book 'Magnificent Mittens & Sock' by Anna Zilborg from my Local Yarn Shop in a drawing. I have been reading the directions for socks and am crazy in love with the directions and want to cast on. I also have some new spools of yarn that I'm anxious to cast on. However, I have an agenda. Some deadlines are holding me back. I need to finish a couple of projects that I have put off for far too long. I have not knitted on a sweater I started a year and a half ago because it got too heavy and hurt my hands. I have some curtains I want to hang in the office door that are about 6-8 inches short on the second panel lying there too. Those will look so nice now that the office is painted and the floor is done. But, no. Currently working on a lace poncho for my husband's grand-daughter that I hope will be nice for spring in Minnesota. I have been taking a shawl to the knitting group gatherings that I'm working on for my sister-in-law. That's about it. Miserably slow knitting time for me.

The 'being broke' thing is a pretty overwhelming place to be right now. So very close to having a couple of bills paid off but there is a lot coming up and nothing to save for them. My nephew will be home for a couple weeks, but I'm going to have to cash in the penny jar to get to see him. I have three camping trips planned and reservations made between Memorial Day and Labor Day, the most expensive being a week's vacation with my step-daughter and her kids who I've not met yet.

We have been looking at other jobs. Starting pay for other companies in property management starts about about $500 more than we are being paid currently. My dear husband is paid a very nominal amount, which comes out to less than minimum wage for less than eleven hours a weeks work, the extra he can accomplish is questioned at every turn and, as I said before, he doesn't get any extra benefits like health insurance. So, he feels he is unappreciated and I don't blame him. I appreciate him greatly, but even I don't have a way to prove that he is either.

I don't feel I'm appreciated either. At the employee meeting the other day, I was asked to tell everybody how I get a couple of things done. One is finding ways to promote my facility and another is finding people I can't contact with the information they've left with me and not updated. Well. Both of those things are done on my own with my own materials, not purchased by my company so my co-workers, not in possession of those same materials will not be able to do what I get done. Plus, these things make me unique in my company. I like helping people and giving this stuff away means I lose my ability to benefit my company, makes me obsolete. Asking me to just tell what I know is like asking a doctor to teach any common person to do surgery. That may sound extreme, but I have skills and abilities they did not hire me for. They are not paying me for those special skills and abilities, but for being a warm body in a seat, and that's it and that's the pay grade I receive, not the other. I'll get over it, but my teeth have been on edge about that for days now.

I have also had enough of ugly people. I don't mean I want to hang out with beauty queens. I'm sick to death of reality shows, tabloid television, snarky politicians, famous people who become notorious, users of anything and everybody that can't be bothered to give anything back, people who gossip and those that contact me, who I haven't heard from in years but are only looking for more trash to talk either about me or to me. This also includes people who expect me to give as I have always done but can't be bothered to help me or mine or to pass it on to anybody else. I guess that last part is 'user' too but there are some who think it only applies to addictions.

The other stuff is usual. Haven't seen or heard from my daughter in a couple of weeks. She's 22 and it's OK in her opinion not to call or visit me every few days in her opinion, but still, I miss her. I miss my mom too. They have been cooped up at home with health issues, which is why I wanted to go see her last weekend. The dogs are the same. I'm still struggling with Maggie to be calm about food, still trying to get Dori to come out of her shell of fear. The weather has been beautiful spring and getting moreso everyday. Waiting for Spring Training to be over so that the MLB games will be aired on TV. I check my e-mails every day, my social networks two or three times a day, my snail-mailbox two or three times a week, I don't hear from anybody. Yep, I know you're supposed to contact the ones that you want to hear from, but they don't respond everytime either. Some never. And I hate bugging people that don't really seem to care to hear from me.

So, I just post my crazy stupidities here and hope that those that love me know where to find me when they miss me. I wish you Love, Joy, Happy Spring to You! Peace out.

Sweet Dreams are Made of This, Who Am I to Disagree?

2010-03-02T22:24:00.000-08:00

Well, we had a pretty good week. Very nearly had 0% deliquincies and yet we survived another month. Superman remodeled the customer's bathroom with left over paint from the office and linoleum tiles someone donated to us, just enough for this one little room, with a little to spare in case there needs some repairs in the future.

While he work at that I just admired.

Saturday, right at noon, my mom showed up with these cuttings from her garden. They are on the counter in the office, so that I can just admire them all day long.
We were going to go hit up some thrift stores in the afternoon. First we stopped and got at the coney-dog place. We love how big and bright this sign is. While we were waiting for our food we snapped this to torture his Pepsi drinking friend in another state. That was pretty much the sum total of the afternoon, we didn't find any bargains at the thrift stores and there were a lot of people, so we gave up after just two.

On Sunday morning after we did our grocery shopping, we took the girls to an unofficial park. I say unofficial because it's not maintained, I think it only used by local fly fisherman and teenagers for secret bonfires. We just walked the little bit of trails. You can see a little bright spring green there and the high water of the river.

While we were there, Dori hopped up on this log and just waited. I took this look to say, 'Here I am, posed so nice. Aren't you going to take my picture? I can only hold this so long.' So, I did. How could I resist?

I've had a little trama over at twitter, lately. Or would that be 'twama'. Whatever. Anyway, I have a list of nearly 400 posts on ravelry.com that I've been going through trying to follow other knitters. At about the 2/3 mark, some nice person hacked my account. I had to change my password about four times and then finally protect my tweets (I mistakenly thought the nice people at twitter were protecting my tweets, aparrently I was wrong), apologize to 100 new followers and still watch about 25 people go away. I had already spent a couple of weeks trying to get through that list, now I wonder if I should try again.

We are happy and sad the Olympics are over. My, so much drama! I loved and wondered who made all those great hats. Now, we are just waiting for the Major League Baseball Season to start. First Spring Training game of our favorite team is tomorrow but it isn't being broadcast. In fact, Spring Training looks mostly iffy for the broadcast. I guess that is a bad baseball pun: catch as catch can.

In the meantime, I hope March brings you spring and some joy.

Tiptoe through the tulips, in the garden, with me.

2010-02-22T19:50:00.000-08:00

It seems rather obvious that the groundhog was NOT on the Westcoast when he made his prediction that spring was another six weeks away.

On our morning walks, we've been seeing daffodils blooming for a couple of weeks now, we saw a crop of about 300 snowdrops down near the river. Over the weekend, we saw a Magnolia with giant buds ready to pop. Flowering cherry, plum, and pear color the neighborhood. Today, I saw a forsythia in full yellow flame. We have had a nearly full week of sunshine, but rain comes tomorrow afternoon, they predict. In my garden my rose bushes have about 6 inches of shiny red growth. I have been afraid for them, wanting to go back out and cover them up, but they seem pretty happy to be going on in such a flashy style.

Here at the facility, lots of activity, people moving their stuff around, deciding if they should continue to keep what, and maybe taking it all home. Superman is pretty happy about all the work it's creating for him, but I'm saddened to see my neighborhood getting smaller.

The dogs are getting into spending a little more time outdoors. Even Dori looks to Dad every time he walks past as if to ask, Are we going to the Park today?

Speaking of Dori: My mom came over last week and she tolerated being petted.

We've had some episodes of car sickness lately, so I've taken to keeping her up front and holding her on my lap. My hope is that not hiding out on the back seat and seeing the world is moving around the vehicle, plus the window being open a little so she gets some air, that she can over come the problem. We pulled up to the bank one of the first few times and the guy in the window, who knows Dori's story and likes to make sure Maggie gets a treat every time we come through, his mouth dropped open because that was really the first time he got to see her. He immediately said, Oh, I'm not supposed to talk to her or look at her, sorry. But really, how could you not? Her head is up and she is really looking around at ALL there is to see, which makes us really happy. Another little bit of the real dog within coming out.

I have to say, she is the softest gentlest beast I've ever known. She touches her nose to my calf when I walk past her on the bedroom floor in the morning, so soft that if I wasn't paying attention, I might not have known she touched me. She doesn't want my to reciprocate, it is enough for her that she has tagged me. If I feed her a treat from the palm of my hand, she licks it so gently and caressingly. The softest tongue I've ever felt. Her fur is smoother that I would have imagined too, because I've not had much opportunity to brush her or bathe her, yet.

Spring has made me feel old. The sunshine in my office window is the comfy blanket it used to be. Suddenly, instead of wanting to run around and play, I suddenly realize all the adventures I won't get to do. I had been thinking that if I was younger I might apply to Cesar Millan The Dog Whisperer as an intern so that I could learn from the master how to understand this greatly misunderstood species. Even for just two weeks, I could come home with enough knowledge to help my own girls. But, Alas. I continue to look at every little instance and say, Hm, if Cesar was here, he would not let Maggie out of the truck to walk in the park until she was calm, or he would know a way to break down the wall of fear that Dori continues to live behind. He could walk up to the woman we see every morning with the King Charles Spaniel and tell her that he is whining for a reason and she's not helping him by encouraging his behavior. Having passed my mid-forties, running away to study seems a bit ridiculous.

I will try to take pictures of all this color so you can see some of the local beauty too. Hopefully, it will make us both feel better.

Oh, Daddy, You soothe me with your smile

2010-02-20T19:31:00.000-08:00

The Cesar Millan foundation website (home of The Dog Whisperer program) reports that Cesar's best boy, Daddy, passed away yesterday, Friday, February 19th.

Daddy was truly one of a kind, this feels like losing our own dog. He will live forever in the repeating episodes of 'Dog Whisperer', his calm demeanor and his happy face will always exemplify what a good, truly happy dog can be. Our deepest sympathies to the Millan familly and to everyone who worked with him at the Dog Pound, production crew and those blest to be taught by him.

Happy Friday!

2010-02-19T13:52:00.000-08:00

To celebrate over a hundred Unique Visitors to my blog and one more follower, I am going to be quiet and share a favorite video with you. (I think the character kinda looks like me!) It's about 7 minutes long and the link will probably redirect you. So, I'll just say, see you soon, OK?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M6ZjMWLqJvM

Sincerest apologies

2010-02-15T19:05:00.000-08:00

Not sure, really, what's happened to my blogging motivation, but it seems it waned there for a bit.

I think one reason why is that 'Unique Counter' widget, up there on the right. I installed that widget and for about a month discovered there were two people who were reading my blog. I'm assuming it was probably me and my sister. She has a couple of blogs about breeding Labradoodles, which she is very busy with, and another one that has been slow lately due to circumstances beyond her control. So, we read each other's thoughts and try to keep up with each other.

That counter stayed at '2' for about two or three months. I was kinda disappointed because I was really hoping somebody else would stumble on my thoughtless thoughts and maybe comment or rant along with me, particularly other relatives, namely my daughter.

Another reason that I have been too lazy is that I haven't felt able to focus on anyone thing. I have been having that sickening reoccurring nightmare where I walk into a room and forget why I'm there several times a day now, and since my birthday's just past, that must mean I'm senile now. Really, in truth, I know it's probably stress, but that's not a very wonderful diagnosis, now, is it?

I'm still crazy in love with my Superman. Yesterday, he made me a big breakfast, complete with French Silk chocolate coffee (which actually sounds better and smells better than it tastes), took me to look at a VW Van (and a red one at that), let me nap after we took the girls to the park, made a big dinner and then promptly fell asleep on the sofa so that I could mindlessly wander the house, talking to myself about what was so important in this room that I had to set my knitting aside for four hours until I finally gave up and went to bed, and then he woke up and came to bed in time to kiss me good night and snuggle just before I fell asleep. And because I love my Superman, it was he I dreamt of all night.

I continue to try help my dogs. Maggie and I are having an easier and easier time with trying to feed her only when calm. Yesterday, her Daddy was watching, so she thought it was OK to charge me for breakfast like in the old days before I came along to change her status quo, and I thought this may be a set back and we will have to start all over again, but this morning, when it was just she and I again, she got to 'calm' much quicker than she has been. Dori, the rescue dog, sheds another protective scale every day, so progress is slow but it is progress. After Dad takes her for the 'pee walk' first thing in the morning, she has been coming back up to watch me get up, showered and dressed to go for our morning hour's walk. That's been going on for about a week and a half. The other day, I heard this weird noise from her corner. First, I check on Maggie's location and then her Dad, before I peek around the furniture to see what's going on. She was on her back, rolling around trying to get a good back scratch. I was very excited and happy to watch it, because I hadn't seen her do that before. (If you've been following, she does very little aside from laying in her kennel or on the sofa, so I'm still ecstatic to see her be a dog.) Dad took them in the truck, while we had a really nice patch of sunshine happening, without me (I had to stay home to watch the office) which he doesn't do very often. He came home and told me there was an older woman in the park who had been on her phone. He heard her say 'I have to hang up now, there's some dogs here I need to love.' Dori walked right up to her and allowed her to touch her! Incredulous to us, because she does not walk up to us or allow us to just reach out and touch her. I know there's a dog inside of her, I'm hoping and waiting for the real Dori to come out.

I have gotten some knitting done. I finished a sweater for my nephew a while back. I've heard nothing since it left me, so, not sure if it fit or if he liked it. I guess since I had fun making it and was proud of how it turned out, that will have to be good enough for now. I regret not getting a picture of it once it was finished. Lots of in progress shots, posted on Ravelry, but nothing once it was finished and washed. I also have finished fingerless gloves for my daughter, and am making some other pieces she wants for her outfit to wear at the opening of 'Alice in Wonderland'. I have finished another sweater for my Step Daughter that her Dadda will be mailing soon. I did take a picture of that and will post when she gets it. It is on Ravelry too, with my comments about my disappointment with the yarn. I have made two and started a third Orphan Sweater (actually more like t-shirts) that I'm hoping will go to Haiti.

But the recent projects that get the most complements are the sweaters I made for the dogs. Everyday we go out together, somebody admires them, how well Maggie's fits her and how happy Dori seems in hers.

I have spent several evenings sitting here going from Ravelry to Twitter, trying to follow other knitters. I'm using a list in Ravelry that's about 35 pages of 25 posts each, and only about 10 pages through it now. I'm thinking that's probably been the largest share of my usual blogging time. Aside from general brainless senility.

There's been other trials and tribulations around here as well. Thanks to the 'Helpfulness' of Wells Fargo (in case you didn't recognize it, that was hypocrisy) I missed making a truck payment and nearly gave myself another ulcer, in spite of my dear Superman telling me that it wasn't my fault. I am beyond thankful that it is nearly paid off, and when it is, WF can kiss my large pink behind before I will every would consent to do business with them. (I only tell you this because there are many horror stories out there, hopefully, somebody is learning that: a. they are not the only ones; b. My advice to you would be to avoid them if at all possible as well.)

We have been looking at jobs in Self Storage in other states, hoping to be closer to our families. Lots of heartache for me about leaving current tenants who have become our dear neighbors and the many aquaintances I've made through the local knitting group. Lots of factors to take into consideration such as short term plans and long term goals, but the biggest one is feeling that we are appreciated. Superman feels that he is useless and very much taken for granted here and that is a bad place for a hero to be.

My daugher has been here a couple of times. She came a few days ago so that I could color her hair ~ which is a Chore, because she has very nice thick hair and wanted a main color and highlights. She came over again last weekend because we had a bike she could use (abandoned here at the facility) and she brought a vanity I was hoping to refinish. Since we never leave here ~ it's banker's hours plus Saturdays for me and she's on evenings and weekends usually ~ and she had her father's truck, she was able to come here and get all that done. It was very nice for me because I don't usually get to see her more often that once every three months or so.

My mom was here a couple of weeks ago and brought a new piece to add to the Coca-Cola collection in the kitchen, a 'Vending Machine' cookie jar. Very nice surprise! She was here again today with six spools of yarn. She and my Step-Dad are great thrift store shoppers and find great bargains. The cool find in the collection of yarn today was a raspberry wool. I have been racking my brain trying to think of something I've been wanting to knit with something that cool all day long, so far nothing, so as soon as I'm done here, I'm going to go over there and be very determined about finishing something so I can get to that sooner rather than later.

Hopefully that catches everybody up on the last couple weeks. When I wasn't paying attention the widget counter went from '2' to something like 75. Wow! I don't know who they are but that was a surprise!

Very nice indeed.

'She knits me sweaters'

2010-02-03T19:45:00.000-08:00

Things have been kinda stressful, crazy around here. I needed a laugh, I hope you do too.

PS: To any of my acquaintance, I have had to work really hard not to do THIS to you.

http://www.youtube.com/user/suburbanhomeboy#p/u/1/kLn2Hk5G9OQ

Clicking on this link will probably redirect you. But you gotta see this, so, ya'all come on back soon, ya hear?

Saturdays we work a half day . . .

2010-01-23T13:26:00.000-08:00

And then we go to the park.

Well, lately not so much, because the weather doesn't always cooperate. As noon rolled around today there was more blue than grey so it seemed optimum to get the girls out of the house. Superman says we need more pictures taken. Here you go.

We got them ready and loaded in the truck. When we were in the truck, I thought I would try to catch how excited they were. I post this picture to show you how hard it is to take a picture backwards over your head.

Hey, I'm cute and in my sweater, where we going anyway? Are we there yet?

Ah, Mom! Get that camera outta my face PLEASE! Dad, can't you go any faster?

I know this isn't a great shot, but when I was taking this, I was thinking, this is about as calm as Dori gets. Yet. A bit of slack in the leash, ears a little elevated, tail mid-rise with a curl, mouth slightly open as if to taste the honey gold in the sunshine.

This is Maggie in 'Go-Dog-Go' speed, ears up, nose a-sniffin', tail cocked as if to rudder her direction.

Maggie walks in front with Dori, compatibly, but only when Dad is with us. Here she checks to make sure he's still there.

Nice shot of the park today. See what I mean about sunshine? It's January! So very cool, huh? Hey, Dad! Wait up!

Mom and the girls.

At that point the camera batteries died. The Energizer Bunny doesn't keep up too well when it comes to cute terriers in their Momma's hand made sweaters.

OK, I'm embarrassed to post this because of the messy house. As I said, we charged out as soon as we could close the office. All the mess of knitting projects going! I just wanted you to see Superman with the girls, looking pretty comfy and calm, just home and had treats for being good girls in the park and truck and back. Really, you must notice how comfy Dori is with Daddy sitting so close and Maggie, in her usual hyper-mode when she's that close to her Daddy.

And as I post this, Daddy's stretched out in the living room, sound asleep with the US Open Snow events blaring on the TV. Yeah, it's a good day.

January 21st, What's on the needles?

2010-01-21T20:30:00.000-08:00

I haven't had much going on lately but I have been feeling pretty wiped out. Today the boss came and I had been worried about her visit, which may have been affecting my sleep. She usually comes in January to tell us a.) if and what our raise for the year may be b.) any change to the base income (this is the figure which I, as a facility manager, try to reach each month and if I do, I will receive a bonus, last year, I didn't receive a bonus based on this base income) c.) if we will be raising our rates this year. So, I was all anxiety, and once she answered all of these, I was ready for a nap.

I have been worried for my daughter, who is stressing out over her car. She's made some repairs to it, but yesterday it failed to pass DEQ, so she's unable to get her tags. Pretty upset, as anybody would be, hard for a mommy to watch. Hopefully, this is an experience she will learn from.

I have also been worried about a distant relation. Her son died, very young, like 10-12 years old, I think it was two years ago. He died with a belt around his neck apparently playing 'The Choking Game.' I had been thinking about her and all parents that lose children too young and the agony they must all be going through (this is something my very own Superman lives with everyday, too, his son died 12 years ago in an auto accident) when I was watching my favorite Wednesday shows last night. Last night's episode on CBS 'Criminal Minds' was about the choking game. I cried for all that I know that's lost a child. Glad it was just me and the dog watching.

And I have been thinking about people in Haiti and orphans. How could anybody that watches the news not have tears to see what they are enduring there, and yet, everyday, aftershocks continue to terrify?

So, I've been trying to stay occupied and, thus, a contributing member of society, by knitting.

I am trying to finish a sweater for my step-daughter, my deadline is next month. It is of blue cotton, a ribbed lace pattern I hope will flatter and be comfortable. I work on it in the evening, for as long as three hours a sitting, while I watch TV. At my desk in the office, I have a pair of socks in progress, for my nephew in the Army. My deadline for that is also next month as he will be home for a visit before being deployed. I want him to have a helmet liner I've already finished, these socks, and some trigger gloves. If I had extra funds, I would like to put a harmonica or a book in there. But probably will only get to finish these socks. I have a couple other projects in progress that I should probably make deadlines for but I'm feeling stressed about what I have going already. One is a long, car coat length sweater with a hoodie, that is all one piece and has a celtic sort of braid that lines the opening up the front and the hood. I have some lace curtains that are about 8 inches short on one panel of being completed, then I will put them up in the office so that I can look at them all day long and even on ugly days have something delicate and beautiful to stare at. I also plan to put together a Barbie wardrobe for my husband's granddaughter, that should be sent off in April.

But on top of all this, I am working on a few knitted T-shirts for orphans in Haiti. One is nearly done, except for a bit around neck edge and hem. Superman went to the craftstore yesterday, almost immediately after I told him that the cotton that I would like to use is on sale. It appears he's bought me enough for two or three more shirts, with what I have already (not much, just a ball of white).

This is the first one, I had started it Saturday and worked on it when I went to meet the Yarn Train (see last post) and this was how far I got before I went to bed Sunday.

That's all for now, thank you for reading this. I hope somewhere there's a ray of sun just for you that brightens your January.

spell check is not working, I'm hoping my english was adequate. . . .

Yarn Train

2010-01-16T19:12:00.000-08:00

This morning, I got to leave the house, instead of run the office, and go do something fun. In a knitterly kind of way. I took my project bag, if you remember, this is one I received from the purple swap a couple of months ago.
This is the project in the bag. The other night, I watched Ann Curry in Haiti discuss a newborn infant, who was already an orphan. I got out my new copy of 'Knitting for Peace' that I had bought for the dog blankets and all, and thought a cotton sweater for an orphan in Haiti might be a good thing, FOR ME, to make. The pattern starts with panels knit center front and back, then the sides and sleeves picked up along the side of these panels.

Armed with walking project, I'm off.

This is the landmark tower at the Train Station. As beautiful as the architecture is outside, inside is breathtaking. But I was not here for the field trip of our city's buildings. That clock says our train is about to arrive, better get in there.

The group was so big, I couldn't have gotten them all in one shot. Here, the primary organizer is going over the game plan.

We listened.

And listened to other details.

On your mark, get set, go!

There was a woman from the group on the train, for whom this was a first time in this adventure, and since I've never been to any of the three shops in the nearby neighborhood, we set out to find it together.

The first shop was Dublin Bay. Their shop is down the next block, just there. This neighborhood is pretty much all new. I hadn't been thru here in a few years, so it was all new to me.
Here is my find, from Dublin Bay. That's right my friends. I bought a spool! I love them spools, can't resist 'em. This is a really pretty heather. The yardage is 1,750. Got me some knittin' to do.

At this intersection, we stopped as my companion needed to eat. She had to be at the train station at home about 6 hours earlier, it was time. We stopped in a little cafe, called (something like Delisia, I will look up and fix this later). I had eaten a big breakfast, so at this point I wasn't really needing anything. However, now that she had eaten, I wasn't about to let my own hunger slow us, so I had a half plain bagel with cream cheese. Her dish was 'Black Pearl Benedict' which had roasted potatoes, spinach, almond slivers, slices of pastry, with a sauce that looked like mole all over it.

We headed down 11th Avenue. There were several little park pass thru areas. Nice day in January, yes?

Next stop was Knit Knot Studio. Very tiny shop, but apparently the owner is something special as far as knitters go. There were so many ladies in there, I was almost glad to leave.

Continuing down 11th, we walked past Powell's Books (we were coming back later for this) to head to the next shop. There was a fabric store just before that, were I found some great leafy buttons to go with my new wool. I think I discovered that abalone doesn't photograph with a digital camera too clearly.

That was right next to the next shop, Knit/Purl. They have a very good selection of colors in the Cascade 220 Superwash there, I think I counted 45 plus another 6 or 8 in the clearance bins. The reason I noticed this is because my local area knitters are knitting the Great American Afghan, and this is the yarn they are using.

And Back to Powell's books.

Now, I was just there with my brother a couple of weeks ago, so I wasn't really looking for anything. I just looked for different authors that I didn't remember seeing on the earlier visit. This was the only Annie Modesitt on the shelf. I guess she's popular with many readers here.

And I opened it up to find . . . .

I found an AUTOGRAPHED COPY! I think I'll pretend that whoever this Stephanie is, she named me this book's God-mother and that is why I have it now. They also gave the Yarn Train gang a free recycled shopping bag. I'm very glad to have that, as I had another bag years ago and Nicole borrowed it.

Well, my adventure buddy hails from the book trade, so she found what she wanted pretty quick. We realized we had more than two hours left, what to do?

We'll first I wanted to stop to pick up a Red Velvet Cupcake for Superman. I had heard that many shops in the neighborhood were doing various things to raise money for Haiti, this particular place is donating 100% of the proceeds from the sale of this cupcake. I got a taste of it and it was very good.

We walked back to the train station and drove my car over to Twisted. Yep, we got FOUR shops done, none that I had been in before.
(You may have noticed I wasn't taking pictures of the shops we visited anymore. Well, it started raining and I didn't want to get the camera wet.)

At Twisted, we ran into another local knitter, this one I was familiar with because she is on Ravelry. I've seen several of her posts, because she is a travel agent that likes to put together other fun knitterly adventures. Today, she told us all about a cruise/train/knitting trip she's putting together for next fall. Oh, I so wish. We also talked about the local Knitting Guild. I was interested to learn more, she seems to appreciate it.

Back at the train station, the ladies are arriving back with full bags of bargains, tired but with smiling faces. Looks like we all had a good time.

Uh, where am I? I forget.

2010-01-12T19:26:00.001-08:00

This whole day was spent in a daze. I just seemed to bounce from one thing to another like I have ADHD. I got very little done.

The invoices in the office are done, good thing.

I had to auction off a unit, bad thing.

But it went for over $200, I have to begrudgingly declare that a good thing.

The people that won it are snooty, bargain hunters who drive luxury cars, I have to declare that a bad thing.

The front office linoleum got ripped up, Superman's good thing.

He's really gonna hurt tomorrow, bad thing.

I am day 9 in a row for walking rescue dog, good thing.

I need to sit and knit for awhile, because I haven't done any yet today, bad thing.

I made camping reservations for Memorial Day and Labor Day weekends, good thing.

It only took me all day, bad thing.

I found some Parmesan Cheese in the bottom shelf of the refrigerator, good thing.

We really needed it last night for pizza, bad thing.

I helped a friend with her knitting by blowing up a chart that was small and hard to read, good thing.

The invoices didn't get in the mail, bad thing.

I ran away with a friend to check out a couple of small knitting things, good thing.

I left without an agenda of what I need, then without it had nothing to do when I got there, bad thing.

I got to meet someone I see on Ravelry, good thing.

I wasn't wearing any of my projects, bad thing.

Tonight is a new episode of NCIS, with Robert Wagner as DiNozzo's dad, good thing.

No word yet if premier of 'Lost' will be preempted on February Second, bad thing.

Every thing I did was not something on my to do list, bad thing.

But I had fun doing it. GOOD THING!

Sad regrets, lesson learned

2010-01-11T20:06:00.000-08:00

Once upon a time.

I was a pretty lonely person at about the time I graduated from high school. My brother had some new friends, so once I followed him and invited myself along on their adventures. I was that lonely.

Well, eventually, one moved away, and one went somewhere else, and then it was just me and one person. It was a guy. Traditionally, I get along better with guys so I didn't think much of it. We went and did stuff, talked on the phone, just the same as when it had been all of us. My mom started calling him my boyfriend. It didn't feel like that to me, but I left it alone. One day he said he was breaking up with me. OK. I didn't know we were 'together' in order to 'break up.' But, whatever, OK.

So, now I'm off to find new friends again.

After a few months and some other odd adventures, I received a note from him. He said he thought it would be a good thing for me to be his wife. So, we got married. I thought I had my friend back. I couldn't have been more wrong.

I waited. We made decisions I thought would make us closer. I was hoping my friend would come back. We moved. We got jobs working together. Sometimes, just because, we even got matching outfits, like old married people, or people who come to look like their pets. Initially, people thought it was sweet that we were that close. After a while, they could tell proximity didn't mean 'together'. A few wondered about that, but even fewer were concerned enough to say anything about it.

I thought it was my fault, that I wasn't enough something. I tried to be a wife, or at the very least, a friend. It's tough when you are working at it by yourself, or working for one thing when the rest of the team is working on something else. There was a statistic I heard the other day, that said, Men love women the way they are, and get upset when they change. Women expect their men to change and get upset when they don't. That's very true here: I tried to change to make myself something he would love. He never did.

I thought when we had our daughter that we both would become different people. That may sound like what some people say 'I thought I could change him' but what I thought was I would be whatever it was that was lovable, because clearly at this point I was not.

I tried for a long time. After a while, I realized I was the only one fighting, so I quit. With nothing else to motivate me in life and no reason to live, I gave up and walked away. I thought he would come for me. After three years, he came to bring me papers to dissolve every connection we had.

Except one. She hated me. I'm not sure now why, I thought at the time it was because I had made a change in her life that didn't look pretty, I'd made a scene. That may still be the reason. I think she blames me for the 'ripping apart her family' part as far as the cause, but now I think she smart enough that she knows that a lot of the ripping wasn't me.

What I regret now is still the loss of so much time, my history, the connections of twenty-five years. In my opinion, I was naive, and for that I was wrong. He has some blame too. I don't care about that. What I care about is the cruelness it places on her. As an only child, she's the only one to bear whatever comes with 'in-law' territory. It doesn't have to be a negative connotation, but in the expected way of things, people seem to think they have to hate. I never felt that, but apparently I'm alone. I have always asked that she be respectful of whatever family she has contact with, she doesn't have to stop loving anybody. They, however, make it hard on her by looking to place all the blame and shame on me, and tried to turn her heart. I'm not sure that they will ever be totally successful with that plan, but there are days when I don't hear from her that I think they might. She is all I have to show for that whole adventure. That must be a burden on her too.

I think that whole experience has made me very aware of what it feels like to be loved now. I hardly have to do a thing and he is grateful for what I have done. He attempts to take care of me. I'm not only loved but cherished. And so much more.

Sweet Sundays

2010-01-10T19:02:00.000-08:00

I must have woke up kinda weepy today, because I was in tears before I got out of the shower. I was thinking about my Grandma. Sometimes in that moment between awake and asleep, I can hear her singing. I had one of those this morning and I was thinking about what she is singing. Most often I hear the songs we sang when gathered with the congregation. Those songs have recently been changed, it saddened me all of a sudden that her favorites may have been dropped. I guess I will always have them, even if they are not being sung anymore.

We took the dogs to their park this morning. We haven't been there in a couple of weeks, because it's been too rainy. Dori was doing really good, walking sedately BESIDE me, slack in the leash, just taking it slow and easy, little curl in the tail and ears half elevated. Sometimes in her new sweater I sense that she feels like she finally belongs. I thought, 'Well, maybe she's happy' which got me teary again. We came around a corner and I look up to see the pine trees clothed in a bit of fog, the sun fighting to get through and a few rays actually cutting through. Another tear or two.

Superman was so tickled to tell me he'd been online shopping for my favorite cars and showing me what he could find. How sweet is that? You would think the silly man loves me. Or something.

I got an e-mail from my co-worker, her mother died. How sad, to lose your mother.

We came home, I took my vacuum upstairs and got all the floors and furnace filters, with the filters on the air purifier. He got the downstairs. Then we dashed out to the new theatre in town and saw 'Avatar'. So very glad Superman didn't make fun of me for crying so soon in the story. I was wiping my eyes the first moment the main character could stand, run and walk, when he lives as a cripple. I was fighting it earlier when he was 'saying good-bye' to his brother. Before the movie was over, I'd pretty much soaked the paper towel I had in my pocket.

We came home and I took a nap. When I got up, he was making us dinner. His family's recipe for chicken fried steak with artichokes. Now, I look over, as I sit in this chair at the computer, he's dozing in his chair, but it's not tilted back, so his head is flopped to the side. To me, he looks so sweet, but I should go move him a little, or he will wake up in pain. My sweet, Superman.

Oh, I'm crying again.

The view from my desk

2010-01-08T14:59:00.000-08:00

HAPPY FRIDAY! Be safe, be busy, be cool. Love, ~t

For those about to shop, we salute you!

2010-01-07T19:01:00.000-08:00

I loathe shopping. Can you tell from that last post where I kept referring to the Mall as my own personal Hell?

Lots of reasons.

The smell, for one. New clothes tend to reek of an 'New' odor that is not 'New Car Smell', which I have heard is formaldehyde. I hope not, but I have heard that and so, I imagine that is what it is when I smell it.

There is also a lot of really poorly made product in the stores, that businesses justify sells because the low quality makes it affordable. I see it and I can easily visualize what's filling the landfills.

The worst kind of shopping for me is the clothes shopping for myself. There is some truly ugly stuff out there. 'Stuff' is a compliment, by the way. In my head it was far worse, but you never know if anybody is actually reading this who may be my mother, and I don't want to disappoint.

I don't understand why there are manufacturers creating horizontal stripes. Were they dropped on their heads as babies? Not enough caffeine in the decision making that day? Is that where the evil mad scientists go that are bent in destroy the world or at least making it look really awful? HORIZONTAL STRIPES MAKE PEOPLE LOOK FATTER AND SHORTER. Who doesn't know this? I have walked into stores that I have loved, seen that first display of horizontal stripes, turned around and walked out, and never gone back again. I am on an absolute boycott of horizontal stripes and all the evil commercial institutions that would inflict this horror on the unsuspecting public.

The next evil fashion for women is anything babydoll including some empire waisted garments. No one wants to look pregnant unless they are and most of them don't either. The acceptable empire waist style is the one that doesn't have the belly of the garment gathered to the bodice. There are some that don't do this, they are rare. The best kind is the one that has a dark color at the bottom than the top. I have one that I like that does that, black and a red black print at the top. Only one, 'cause they are that rare.

Sleeve length is often inconsiderate as well. Cap sleeves are greatly desired by those that just walked out of their personal trainer's gym. The 3/4 sleeves are a tough sell, too. The manufacturer probably thought 'it would be a good thing, part long sleeve, part short, it will appeal to everybody'. Not me. I want long sleeves in the cold weather and short or none in the warm. And I do switch them out. Most of the problem I have with sleeves is where the shoulder seam is because for women it seems that it is too far off the shoulder to allow for movement. T-shirts are the worst for this, because they are designed for huMANity, as if the soft comforting feminine curve doesn't exist.

Jeans. OK. This is personal. I have a inner hatred for jeans, but have to wear them on a nearly daily basis. So, I suffer the indignity of the ill-fitting. First, for my size, I am expected to have hips and butt. Every pair of Jeans made for women goes completely stupid in those areas on me. I could probably go with jeans a size or two smaller than I wear and they would fit there, but wouldn't go around the belly, thank you diabetes. It has been suggested that I try men's jeans but this doesn't work as they are made to clothe 'the family jewels' which I don't carry, and thus become the first place to wear and rip because of the stress manly jeans can't handle. (Hmmm. Now that's a thought provoking thing.) Besides the men's jeans are usually bought too small to go around a man's belly, creating a Dunlop Tire which should only make appearances on motor vehicles. The best solution I've found is to purchase stretch jeans, which is tough to do without getting into the whole skin-tight spandex thing, which I have always found to be nauseating. For me, if I'm careful, a jean with a little stretch can help negotiate the size variety between the tummy and the butt. Still those are hard to find also.

In addition to all this, I am a larger chested girl. I have been reduced to bra shopping on the Internet, which is doable, but not fun as there is still a high probability that when I get them, I will hate the fabric or where something lays and it should go back. It also makes finding a flattering top a torture only the Mall/Hell Lord could have dreamed up. Necklines. A turtle neck being the absolute worst and crew necks are nearly as bad as they both emphasize the acreage making it look like there is much more to the eye. A v-neck, scoop neck, square neck are all better choices but I would venture to say there are less than 10% of these are actually effective without overdoing and advertising what you don't wish to advertise. Which is tougher still as there are many who feel anything where cleavage is visible is too low cut, but unfortunately real cleavage comes with the territory. There are a couple of necklines that are flattering on most figure types, but unfortunately that also means the production cost is higher, so they don't get made but only rarely. The more prominent would be a sweetheart neckline. Very hard to find, even online. I'm not saying impossible, just difficult, and more expensive if found.

So, why am I complaining about all of these different aspects clothing? My husband has told me that with a portion of a large check we are receiving, I'm to get some new clothes. He's pretty much demanded it. He has specified I need new jeans and that's about all he says I should get. I have spent about a week and a half online at every different website trying to find stuff I can afford and that I will wear when it shows up. Literally more hours than a pervert on porn. I have nearly ceased to communicate with my family and friends because I haven't been my usually diligent self on all my social networks and e-mail, spending whole days sitting in this chair. My knitting is collecting dust bunnies, I can't remember the last time I played Tetris or my Nintendo DS 'Dog Whisperer', my dogs are getting fat and grumpy and my husband doesn't think I've noticed how nicely his beard is growing in. Oh, the agony. I never would have thought I would complain about having a thoughtful and considerate husband and yet, that is what I've been doing here for the last two hours. Believe it or not, I've begged to be let off this torture device and tried all kinds of cunning plans to otherwise spend the money but he is adamant.

I'm getting off of here now. Oh, wait, what was that website they just mentioned on TV? I gotta go see what they might have. . . . Tell my momma I love her!

I don't know how it happened

2010-01-04T22:19:00.000-08:00

So, on January 1st, I went to change the calendar and I realize 'We never bothered to look for a calendar in the kitchen.' Eh? No problem, we'll check the grocery store over the weekend.

It can't just be any old calendar either. This has to MATCH the kitchen. Which is where the 'Coca-Cola' collection is prominently displayed.

Sunday morning, not so bright and not early enough, we get to the grocery store and they are out. Seriously, it was only the third. of. January. Are we going to have to settle for leftover calendars of puppies or Corvettes? No, we are just going to have to try a little harder.

We take the groceries home and put them away, then head to the Mall. Those of you who know me and my history, Take a deep breath, in through the nose out through the mouth. For those of you who don't know me, the Mall is my equivalent of Hell On Earth. At this moment, though, I'm trying to think positively, we'll hit the temporary calendar kiosk and we'll be out of there. Nope all sold out of Coke calendars, all she had were puppies. Of every breed except Rat Terrier and Rescue. I don't think I could have made a choice. But she tells us there's another kiosk at the other end of the Mall. So, we truck down there. Nope we didn't stop. Like I said before, I don't shop the Mall, so I'm not interested in the stores that cater to the Paris Hiltons of the world, or Bill Gates' little brother the gaming techno nerd. (However, when I'm there with my daughter, this place seems more like John Lennon's image of 'plasticene porters with looking glass ties . . . the flowers that grow so incredibly high . . . every one smiles as you drift past'. Oh, wow, that may have been an epiphany for me: The Mall = a bad LSD trip!)

At the other end of the Mall/Hell, the boy there says he hasn't had any Coke calendars in weeks. Since he was near the book store, we checked there. They were having a great sale, but no Coke Calendars. Some Marilyn Monroes and Elvis'. A pretty healthy supply of Hannah Montana's too. On the way back down we try some other stores that might have calendars, none of which had ANY, although we did score a 'Superman' magnet for the fridge. By now, my Superman starting to feel real pain. We sat for a bit, then went into a large department store to get some idea why people were walking out with bags big enough to fill the SUV. We didn't figure it out, we didn't see anything in there at all, well, we saw stuff, but we, being managers of a storage facility where people keep stuff most of it unneeded and unnecessary, were not impressed that there was stuff to be had and headed to the car. Where should we try next if the MALL/HELL doesn't have any. I thought maybe a drug store. There's one near the fabric store I wanted to stop by and check their yarn sale stock. Not in the drug store, not in the greeting card store, which sent me to the grocery store next door. . . . Not with green eggs and ham, Sam I am.

Thoroughly humbled that we should not have flaked on this and gotten around to getting one a long time I go, we head home. As we near the house, I remember there's a drug store half a block away from home, so, we go over there. I thought it wouldn't be a complete loss if they still had some holiday candy left to clearance out. Eh, might as well check then. So, we pulled in and went inside the store, I find the dark chocholates that our counter people seem to like, and we find the calendar supply. There are so many calendars here, the display says there were Coke calendars originally, is it possible they have ONE?!? We dig, we pick, we reject, puppies and kittens and firemen and Porche, horses and castles of Europe and THERE IT IS!

We couldn't believe it, I was having a hard time breathing, thinking about a half block from home, we could have been spared Mall/Hell and the pain my Superman was in. The only thing that made us feel any better about all we went through was that it was on sale for half off. I told him, that after all we'd been through, I would have to blog about this . . .

We came home, went straight to the kitchen, unwrapped the celophane and tacked it up where last years was. We stood there looking at it for a while, flipping through all the images we will be looking at over the next year. Oh, the glory of it all.

When we got to December, I put a sticky note there to remind us we'll need a calendar. Check the drug store next door.

Have a Coke and a Smile. I am.

What a difference a decade makes

2010-01-01T09:54:00.000-08:00

Do you remember what you were doing the day that 1999 went away? Do you remember the panic that the world as we knew it was going to come to an end? Don't you just love fearmongers? For me, I was having a nightmare.

My mom and step-dad's anniversary is January 2. Now, I always have had some adventure going to get the cake for the dinner that the family gets together for. One year, I had put the cake on the shelf underneath the cart and when I got to the parking lot I had to stop suddenly and the cake box flew out onto the pavement. It tasted the same but it wasn't as pretty as when I paid for it. I think one year a cat got up on the counter and helped himself. Or was it a child. For some reason the cake never ends up as pretty as I'm sure the baker would have hoped.

On December 31, 1999 I headed to Costco. The family decided the Costco cake seemed to be universally favored, so I ordered one and after everything else I'd done that day, I went over to pick it up.

For some reason, I could not find a parking spot. Anywhere. In the whole parking lot. At Costco, the center of the universe for parking lots big enough to park all the SUVs and Monster Trucks of the hemisphere. Nothing. I think I ended up parking at the Mall or being one of those stalkers that follow a person from the door and waiting for them to load their purchases in their vehicle of choice. I am not a fan of customer stalking, so, I'm thinking I parked at a business nearby and walked half a mile to get there. I finally get to the entrance and cannot find a cart. Litterally, not a cart or a flatbed to be found. I find my way to the bakery, finding the cake we'd ordered and head toward the check out. I do not get halfway back to the front before I find the end of the checkout lines. I look around me and every cart is full of bottled water and toilet paper. Some people have multiple carts of bottled water and toilet paper. I stand in line with the cake held in front of me at about chest level. For three hours. When I get up to about three people from the checkstand a nice gentleman offers to let me set the cake on the edge of his cart, because he can probably see my arms are shaking and I'm about to drop the cake for my mother. Actually now that I think about it, I'm surprised he had a cart with an edge to set my cake on because everyone elses carts are piled high. Good thing there weren't tires on those carts with air in them, none of the carts would have moved because all the tires would have been flat. I finally get through the line, pay for the cake and head out of the store to trek back to where I parked my car.

I wonder if all those Costco shoppers on December 31, 1999, ever got through all of that toilet paper.

2009-12-29T13:08:00.000-08:00

We had a pretty quiet weekend. First, let me tell you something funny.

SANTA stores here! No kidding, he has four large units at my facility. I took this when he stopped by, right before I closed Wednesday evening.

OK, this is Thursday before we got started, the view from the door when the tenant comes through the door.

This is the view for us from behind the counter. I know, I'm messy, but I get lots done!

Thursday afternoon, we moved everything out of the office and taped off everything. Friday morning, we painted the ceiling, which went pretty quick. It took the rest of the day, working non-stop for both of us to paint the walls. Saturday morning, I got up and this is where I found Superman, fine tuning.

This is now the view from behind the counter.

And the view from the door. We think it looks warmer, the pictures come across more pink than it actually is, although there is a little hint of rose. Of course, pretty much any color would have been an improvement.I think Superman is proud of it too!

Dori in her sweater

2009-12-24T08:24:00.000-08:00

I want first to tell you a new thing about our girl. If you have been following her story, you may really like this and think there is some kind of break through happening. I'm not sure I'm ready to go there yet, as, we still have so far to go, but I hope it is a good thing.

Dori got on the sofa. Now most would think, 'Oh, no! The dog's getting up on the furniture!' And I probably would have been one of those people. Up until now, she has not behaved like a dog, she stays in her kennel all day, even though we've taken the top off, she does not get involved in what's going on, even to watch. To get her to come out of the kennel, we have to leash her, which she tolerates without fear or fight. One day about two weeks ago, she walked around the coffee table and got up on the sofa. So, I put a blanket over her, rather than pet her or talk to her, to let her know that was an OK place to be. Except for when we get her off the sofa to eat or have a little water, she does not leave the sofa now. She does watch us intently walk around the house, whatever we do sitting in the living room, eating, watching tv, reading, visiting with company, knitting, folding laundry, talking . . . .

Here's our morning ritual, on days of tolerable weather, to go for a walk. Maggie's ready, Dad's about to harness Dori, who has sat up from her pile of blankets.
This is her new sweater. The pattern was sent to me by the Humane Society, the shelter where we found her, as a charity project. They were asking for sweaters for dogs at the shelter, two big rescues this month. (http://www.redheart.com/FreePatterns/tabid/118/Default.aspx?tabid=118&patternid=WR2036.pdf) I realised that I needed to knit some for MY dogs first before I can for charity so, I got started on one for Dori first. I knit it last weekend, although it is modified somewhat from the pattern. I knit it in the round so that there was no seam to contend with from the neck to the belly, skipped the button as we have the collar, the flea collar and the harness and the button probably would just hinder. As I worked on it, I sat on the sofa next to her and let the cast on edge trail off my lap so that she could watch. I actually held it up to her and let her sniff it. She's not a dog that sniffs anything, but I wanted her to see I was making it and told her it was for her. She did watch me work on it some, kinda hard to miss when you are sitting together. When we were kids, we would sit next to my mom while she crocheted and we would enjoy the afghans while they were in progress. So, when it was done, I did not put it on her immediately, I let it lay there. I wanted to clip her nails before we put it on her, because we have not trimmed them since she came. Well, I've tried, but she gets scared and we can't calm her yet. I was concerned that her nails would snag in her new sweater. When I went to get the trimmer, the battery needed charged so trimming her nails didn't happen. Anyway, Tuesday morning was pretty chilly out, there was a wind blowing. So, we put Maggie's old sweater on her first, up on the sofa so that Dori would see that this was the plan. Then we put the new sweater on Dori, it went easily. No scary episode occurred. It fits her width and length, is not bulky, but a little loosely knit so that it's not a bit stuffy. On the walk, she seemed comfortable. There wasn't any angst about the wind, she didn't seem affected by the cold like she had been.

This is us when we got back. Maggie seemed a little put out that she didn't have a new sweater too but it's in progress, same pattern. Here she's wearing one I made her last year, copied one she already had but was looking pretty ratty. I made it of acrylic because I was unsure how it would turn out, fit and all, never having knit a dog sweater before. Well, it fit perfect except the armholes were a little too snug. Hopefully, I will be able to get a third one done so that they each have two. The new ones are of 100% wool, chosen and because even if we get wet, maybe walking in the rain, they will still be warm, even in the lightweight texture. 12/27 ETA: Got Maggie's sweater done. Tough part is trying to get a decent snap of her in it.

Anyway, it needs some adjusting. Now that I've gotten in on her and off again, I need to take about 4 inches off the tail end. I hope you can't tell from the photos, it was a pretty silly skirt effect that needs to go away, because skirts don't work on dogs that need to poop and all.

Love

2009-12-22T19:37:00.001-08:00

All day long I've been look for a quote about love that says what I'm feeling. It's really hard to describe so I'm thinking that's why it's taken all day.

There is nothing like being cherished. There is nothing like looking at someone you love and see that sparkle in their eye the moment their eyes meet yours. Sweetness is every time he passes by, there is a touch, a look, words spoken, the pang of parting even for a moment that is so satisfying and appetizing, truly inspirational. To listen to him, to be listened to is very companionable. To have my cares being concerned about. He cooks for me, which others have done, but his concern is not to fill his own needs but to appeal to me. Even if I feel let down in myself for not having gotten something done to show him how much I love him, he is never let down by me. There is romance, there is attraction, but that is nothing but gilding on what is love really is.

My new sweetest memory of us, occured the other night. We found a restaurant, yep, fast food, that I'd never eaten at, although it's a large chain. This was after a great visit to the electronics store to fix my computer, which I thought I'd broken. While we were there, we found a music CD, 'The Bread' Anthology. So, we munched on our dinner in the truck so we could hear the new disc, he on his coney dog and me with my chicken bits. I don't think that life could be happier than listening to him sing those old songs to me, sitting in his big Dodge Truck.

It is a Happy Anniversary to us. This everyday love is beyond compare to any fine thing, and tastes finer than good chocolate.

2009-12-21T00:49:00.000-08:00

So, last night I had a bad dream.

I dreamed I was working for the US Dept of Agriculture grading hops again. And again it broke my heart and again I walked out.

Let me explain (yeah, I have a blog so I can explain!):

Hops. For those not in an agricultural area, hops are grown primarily for beer, but in prairie times, they were grown next to the front porch for yeast in bread making. It can also be used for making paper. I lived many years of my life in an area where a VERY large percentage of world's hops are grown. The government being the Ruler of all things made and grown, actually sends a guy out to take samples of crops, which are then infinitely and finitely tested, retested and tested again, eventually given a grade, and that grade determines what the grower will be paid for his crop.

For many years, this testing was done in a barely formal lab, by little old white haired ladies, who worked these samples meticulously for 12 hour days, 6 days a week, from a few days after the harvest began and were dried. Grading all of those crops took this crew of grandmas several months.

It was very precise work. Most of the work involved sorting through a gallon sized bucket, with a white board, similar to Corelle dishes, with a pair of 5 to 6 inch long forceps similar to tweezers. There were other steps in the process but this was the most intense and precise step. The grannys would sit at a table and sort through this sample, picking out sticks and other extraneous pieces that brought down the quality, dropping the grade. Sometimes a granny would spend the whole day over one bucket.

For the most part, anyone younger than senior citizen would not be hired for this work. It was hard and far too intense for the young and the dramatically restless. The ladies who returned year after year were always the ones who could be depended on to come in, do the job, show up every day and come back year after year. The men that were hired for the lab were the ones sent out into the fields to collect the samples.

After sometime, one of the grandmas might recommend a daughter or a neice, and eventually a younger population worked it's way into the crew. I think it was then discovered that it needn't take several months to accomplish the grading, growers realized they needn't wait so long to discover what they could sell their crop for, because with the younger crew, it might take just a few days to know their grade. So, the whole season would last six weeks to eight weeks, one low production year it was four weeks, instead of six months.

One year, there were several who were brought in through the unemployment office. That was when I came in. I worked one year, not at the meticulous picking, but in the large tub sorting that was divided later into sections for brewing, baking for seed count and other preserved for re-trial. This was actually very dirty work, probably one of the dirtiest jobs in the process. I thought from that first year that I was allergic to the hops, because I would rash horribly in every area of exposed skin, most severly in my underarms. I was told after two months that we were nearly done and they would be calling me back the next year.

Which didn't happen. When I realized the next year the harvest was in full swing, I called the lab and was told they had already hired the full crew. I asked to be called the following year. Which again didn't happen. The next year, I wasn't called, but I was pregnant so, I wasn't too upset. I started calling the lab in the spring, and insisted I be called when the harvest time came around again. When I finally was called into work, several years had gone by, but I recognised many and was happy to see the same faces again. I had the same chore as the one year, several years before. Amazingly, I was back the next year too. I think that year or the next, they started training me for the other parts of the process, the sitting and picking through it with tweezers. Over the years, I had a couple different friends and family members come in with me too. I liked being able to help anywhere they needed me, so I started getting trained for other spots in the process too. In the meantime, the first Lord-over-all-Boss-Lady got tired of it all and her assistant, a sweet lady took over the top spot. Things actually seemed to get cheerful and it was like being one of the seven dwarfs going off to work with Snow White to go back to work every year. One year Sweet Boss seemed a little off, but didn't say anything to anybody. Eventually it came out that she was battling cancer. So, I made it my goal to do whatever I could to keep things upbeat, do whatever I could to help. It made me feel good. But the second or third year of that, for some reason it was offensive that I did that. Nothing I did was received well at all. I didn't understand it, and there was no getting past it, so one day, it got so bad, I was so heartbroken, I had to walk out.

That wasn't the only job I've ever had that's left me broken hearted, but it might have been the first that I put my heart into. That story was over several years. The nightmare I dreamt had this ending: Apparently, for some reason, at the end of the season, gifts were being passed out. Mine was a bag of chocolate. Now that I'm diabetic, that was thoughtless, and in my new version, I got offended, although if that had happened at the time, I wasn't diabetic then. So, in my dream, I held the bag in front of the boss, and said 'What an insult, you're trying to kill me.' and tossed it unopened in the trash and walked out. Someone followed me out, who is someone I know now, but not then, who asked what the matter was, so I told her what I just told you.

What bothers me is that it still must be bothering me. I say that based on the rule that what you dream must be your subconsciousness working through your issues. I find it interesting that after years of that, thinking I'm over it, somewhere in my little universe, it still must be bothering me.