the spinnery

I'm sure any readers I once had have given up on me. Posting every quarter is not reassuring, nor consistent, but my knitting hasn't been either. So late this summer, I decided to jump start my knitting with something special. I threw financial caution to the wind and booked my spot with these lovely folks. Then I set about securing a place to stay. The end of September is the beginning of leaf peeping season, so rooms were already scarce. Lots of people plan ahead. My planning revolves around a school calendar and I never think of staying at a B & B, hotel, or motel in New England. It seems like such an extravagance.

And it was! Jill and Dennis, the Innkeepers were outstanding hosts. The food was divine! My room was cozy and quaint, and Saturday night Dennis built a fire in the fire pit and I gazed at the multitude of stars glittering in the clear Vermont sky. I recommend the place wholeheartedly.

Four other women in the class were staying there too which made it less scary and more fun. Thanks to Lori from Westport, Kindy from Wellesley, Sally for being unable to attend so her sister Kindy could go in her place with Lori, Terri from NYC, and her friend Julia from Brooklyn; warm fuzzy, funny, eloquent knitters each of them. And they let me sit with them, so kind since I didn't bring a friend.

The starring attraction for me was the teacher.

More tomorrow, since I've finally got a little blog fodder, I don't want to use it all in one post.

ah, july

miss Isabel, july 4, originally uploaded by shelaghms.

It is a gorgeous day. . . and lucky many say: 7 . 7 . 07.

Miss Isabel sends a smile in honor of the holiday, her Nana's impending birthday, and the love of her Auntie. . . along with her passion for all fruit, Jerry, and Yoda, and . . . she's a happy little girl, and I am blessed she's part of my life.

I am knitting. Slowly, but surely. I finally got a new camera, so blogging may resume - I hope! - and ravelry will be used. What an amazing tool.

I hope you're enjoying your weekend.

new year :: generosity

The Kim family's experience touched and saddened me deeply :: please visit the Kim family art + craft auction :: all money raised will go directly to James Kim's family :: details are on the site or you may donate directly to The James Kim Memorial Fund ::

. . a safe, creative, and bright 2007 to every single one of you in blogville. . .

and thank you for your patience with me here.

How did it happen?

The incident is so vivid in my memory, I didn't think to explain how it happened or that it wouldn't be apparent to my readers. Rachel pointed this out, so let me clarify:

Cassidy, a 50 lb. mutt with what I think must be some terrier in her, got into the sheep pasture that is spitting distance from our home. She went into the barn, thru the screen door that is not attached to the doorway - it's propped up against the opening - and down the ramp. It had been a windy day and I had forgotten that the door wasn't attached to the doorway.

Cass chased the sheep, and the sheep ran into the pond to get away. The first row boat I hopped in quickly took on water, so I dragged out the second one, which delayed the possible rescue. The two of them swam around until the sheep very quickly became exhausted.

It's the thrill of the chase for Cass. And sheep aren't very smart. We didn't have this problem with the cattle or horses on the ranch.

My home, the sheep, the pasture, the pond, the barn, and the leaky rowboat are owned by my employer. You can imagine the pluses and minuses of those details. The Boss is away, but the under-bosses know; burying a sheep carcass is not a one person job.

Is the story clearer?

Payback?

One of my dogs drowned a sheep today.

I am still in disbelief.

Is it fast-acting karma for not knitting in almost eight (8) weeks? For not announcing my conclusions about and winners for RKT #1? For still having over 115 unread items in my blogroll? For not keeping in touch with friends - live, Knitty, and blogville - during this hellacious life transition? For a gajillion other things...

*sigh*

Color purple

You Are Grape

You are bold and a true individual. You are very different and very okay with that. People know you as a straight shooter. You're very honest, even when the truth hurts. You are also very grounded and practical. No one is going to sneak anything by you. People enjoy your fresh approach to life. And it's this honesty that makes you a very innovative person.

What Color Purple Are You?

I found this over at Kim's.

RKT #1 contest is now closed

Please be patient while I do the judging. No long weekend for me. It's work, work, work.

Thanks to all who entered!

RKT #1 contest deadline

Is Friday, 1 September. I will present my conclusions and awards on Sunday, 3 September.

Thanks to everyone who has been adventurous and contributed to RKT #1.

For those who have been too busy knitting or basking in the final days of summer or trying to stay warm in winter, there's still time!

For me, work is in full swing, and very little knitting or much else is happening. That will change soon enough. Fingers crossed.

Random Knitting Theory #1 = a contest

It's the first theory thrown out on the blog anyway. Or the first one I can recall, and in this heat, it's tough to remember my name.

UPDATE: Revised Random Knitting Theory #1: Any kind of knitter; not continental! Please enter the contest Rachel, Sarah, and Rain!
#1: Successful, continental knitters have a certain kind of hand. I don't think I am going to be able to accurately describe the hand I see. I know it's not mine: I am not a continental knitter, nor do I have nails that naturally grow just past my fingertips.

So, if you think you've got the look (thank you, Sheena Easton), take two pictures: one of your hands; and a knitting action shot. Post them to your blog, along with a response to Random Knitting Theory #1, and leave a comment letting me, and any other interested parties, know to go for a look-see.

Two prizes will be awarded: one for best match to the image of the hand I have in my head; and another for whatever strikes my fancy a.k.a. creativity. Please do keep this a family friendly contest, the menagerie will be assisting with the judging, as will Isabel.

Prizes: a super pretty skein of some super pretty yarn; I have some stash goodies, but just in case a cotton-only hand hero wins, then I'll be ordering up something delish. How's that for vague?!

When I started this post I had no intention of having a contest, so if you have questions, please ask. Just think, if you are the only person who gives it a go, you're automatically a winner!!! Wooo hoooo!

PS: This contest is in honor of Aija. I won some stunning Holz & Stein 2.5 mm ebony dpns in a contest she held. Thanks, Aija! The needles are dreamy. I thought I'd share the love. Not the needles. And I really am interested in testing my theory. (I hope Grumperina doesn't stumble upon this, it's so unscientific.)

Freshie

Miss Isabel Reed making her world debut on Thursday, 20 July 2006.

Itsy is fresh out of the oven in this picture with her beaming Auntie.

Swoon.

Wired

Finally. I'm posting from "home." Wooo hoooo!!!!

It's a bigillion degrees inside and out. The menagerie and I need to hydrate.

Question for my savvy readers: which do you prefer, Bloglines or NewsGator? Please discuss.

Six things on my mind...

1. I am still packed in boxes. Still not in my apartment. It's close to two (2) months of living boxed up, and its charm has nearly worn off. No, I think it has worn off entirely.

2. The charm may have left when the heat and humidity rolled in.

3. My poison ivy a.k.a. leprosy is new and improved on my right upper arm. It's itchy, weepy, and angry looking.

4. Camera is packed somewhere, hence the never-ending pictureless blog. Painful, I know. My most sincere apologies. I have knit a thing or two.

5. Unable to blog from FNJ or see some blogs properly. Flipping firewall. Note #1, so there's no surfing or blogging from home, which helps contribute to the absence of charm. (I am at my parents' = post possible = three (3) hour drive tomorrow morning beginning at 5 AM.)

6. Thursday is a bionically big day: Charlie's sister is scheduled to enter this world. I will let you know whatever the news may be as soon as I can. I will be at the hospital knitting feverishly, waiting.

Obit

I found this funny...nicked from Elizabeth.

'What" will your obituary say?' at QuizGalaxy.com

Days 1-3 of Fancy New Job

An Ode to Penny Karma

Day One, 5 July 2006:

7 AM: Alarm goes off playing the only radio station I could find that might broadcast NPR. It was "The Early Show". Who knew you could listen to the TV on the radio?

7.10 AM: Take Jerry and Cassidy out for the morning constitutional. On leashes.

7.45 AM: Re-enter apartment thru window. I locked myself out of my really-far-off-the-ground-first-floor-windowed apartment. Thanks to all the watchful faeries for giving me 2nd floor neighbors with a canoe rack, and a canoe that I gently stepped on in order to hoist myself over a sill with a nail that ripped my t-shirt thru the no-screened Shaker window onto my couch.

8.32 AM: Arrive in my office 2 minutes late to the horror of an unlocked door, lights on, and a lovely canvas goodie bag from THE BOSS. How cool! I hope she doesn't know I was late. I have a thing for timeliness in the work place, especially on the first day.

8.35-8.55 AM: Attempt to log onto my work computer. Let's all remember, I attended meetings, etc. at the Fancy New Place in early June; log on has happened before.

8.55 AM: Finally stumble upon system password.

8.55-9.25 AM: Try to log onto Fancy New Job Email. Finally asked colleague, coincidental owner of aforementioned canoe, and discover Not-On-Site-Tech-Guy error, fix said error, and finally get into email program.

Please note: We're not even three full hours into my First Day of FNJ.

4 PM: Go back to unlocked first floor apartment. It's a temporary stay, so nothing is unpacked. There is no phone. No Internet access. No Tour. No World Cup. No Wimbledon. One channel on the TV. No AC. A LOT of humidity, and an active four-year-old living above me. In this historic Shaker building it's as though that loud little cherub lives with me, as well as the four other members of his canoe-owning family.

5 PM: Let Jerry out to meet larger-than-Jerry upstairs neighbor dog. Cassidy met him earlier, so I kept her on leash. Neighbor dog attacks Jerry. Repeatedly. Jerry goes back into the hallway, trying to get back into the apartment, neighbor dog corners him in hallway.

9.30 PM: Make great progress on my niece-to-be's MDK Kimono during "So You Think You Can Dance". Run out of yarn four (4) rows shy of cast off.

Day Two:

Highlight: Dare to check my Bloglines.

Lowlights: FNJ has a firewall that blocks photos and posting abilities on Blogspot. The same firewall blocked me from checking the standings of Le Tour. Left ear swollen to near elephant size. Bug bite, I think. Either that, or it's poison ivy, which I have on various other parts of my body. On my right arm it looks like leprosy at this point.

Day Three: FNJ Retreat, 8.30 - 2 PM.

8.07 AM: Wake up. I forgot to turn on alarm.

8.33 AM: Arrive at THE BOSSES' HOUSE a.k.a. retreat location. Three minutes late, but three others out of six total were later. Whew.

11.30 PM: My ear is a little smaller, and I am at my parents' writing this post. Thankfully, the three (3) hour drive was uneventful. I've successfully ordered more Kimono yarn.

The Volcano's Mom

J thinks I need a new knitting bag. One that doesn't smell like l'eau de puke.

A little washing, a little air, lots of time, and the knitting bag smells fresh as air a.k.a. not puke.

No need for a new knitting bag, Jules.

OK?

Can you all encourage her to trust me, please?

xxoo

Chocolate Volcano

During my last post, my dear, sweet friend, Tif, had taken over the care of J's 5 year old. My single compatriot told me, when I asked if James should be eating all those M&Ms, that that's the fun of hanging out with Auntie Tif, M&Ms and soda!

I wrapped up my brief blog entry from the Business Center of a lovely Courtyard Marriott, and off we went to figure out laundry and then lunch. All with James in tow.

We left James' Mom to sleep, or look after one of her other two children, ages 8 months and 3 years, found pregnant-Kath, and went out to lunch. Three adults and one child.

After much discussion and reflection, we decided to go to a restaurant the three of us used to frequent when we were in high school (this is boarding school, folks, and frequent is a relative term). It's a quaint little place with yummy sandwiches, and Tiffy bet it all that they would have PB&J for James. He wanted grilled cheese, and that's what he got.

La, la, la, ordering happens, drinks arrive - lemonade for James, soda and water for us, some potato skins (keep in mind, Tif and I are slightly hung over, Kath is pregnant, and battling fatigue - so we battle with food), and James declares: My tummy hurts.

In Tif's infinite wisdom, she asks James to come over and sit on her lap. We ask him if he needs to go to the bathroom (Kath-mommy-of 3.25-brilliance), but no. He says: I need to go home right now, my tummy really hurts.

There is a small, wet chirp, and then the volcano strikes! James, Tif, and our just-served-lunch are covered in chocolate vomit, along with my purse/knitting bag.

Paralyzing laughter ensues. Yes, that's how us strong, brilliant women react when faced with such trying circumstances.

The upshot: James felt much better. When Tif asked him in the bathroom if he thought he had to throw up any more, he replied: No! Did you see how much I threw up on you?! Tif drove the rental back to the Courtyard in her thong. I got to ride next to the volcano, and there was lots of laughter from all, including James.

PS: The knitting was fine. The bag smells like puke; I spent most of my time gingerly scrubbing the choco-puke off my new copy of Mason-Dixon Knitting. Thank goodness for disposable dust jackets.

20s

We are not in our twentys anymore.

Last night, the five (5) of us began celebrating our 20th high school reunion. J, the mother of three, is "in trouble" this morning. She's napping right now.

We are not in our twentys anymore.

Knitting content: I managed to knit a little a few days ago - Mason-Dixon linen dish towel, here I come. In lovely crabapple.

Moving content: Movers delivered, stuff in NY. I'm in MA, RI tomorrow. The menagerie is surviving: all five (5) are currently with Mimi and Papa. Brave, strong parents, I have.

Houston, the Eagle has landed

and so has the menagerie.

The Grande Dame of the brood, Georgie, my first dog, and RI resident (read: she was commandeered by my Mother when I moved to Colorado four (4) years ago), who is at least thirteen (13) years old, survived surgery today: the removal of a small orange-sized oozing cyst-tumor-thingy. It's being biopsied. The vet couldn't get it all. It was like the Energizer Bunny, she reported.

Being home prior to the possible life-ending surgery was the goal, and we achieved it. All six (6) of us arrived in southern RI at 9.22 PM on Monday evening, Memorial Day.

Whew. What a ride.

*****

Happy birthday to my dear sister.

*****

Edited to add: My folks place is about three (3) hours from where I will live. The movers will most likely deliver my stuff on Sunday, June 4. I have new job meetings June 6, 7, 8; 20th high school reunion June 9-11.

The journey is not over yet.

Final point of reference: full-time, fancy new job begins officially on Wednesday, July 5.

Mizzou mile marker 225

a.k.a. just outside of St. Louis, and yes, I'm blogging from the passenger seat. Technology is amazing. Particularly since I had no idea you could connect to the internet via some kind of Sprint card for a flat monthly fee. Thanks for bringing the card along, Dad.

Jerry, Cassidy, and Maxy are all doing quite well with the travel. Abby is too, in the car. She did a runner out of the motel room - not sure if Dad was trying to give us more space in the car, or the wind did actually blow the door open, but thankfully, and incredibly, Abbs ran into a room several doors down. Whew.

I'd like to hit southern RI sometime tomorrow night. My father, the co-pilot, is not so optimistic.

I'll keep you posted. And more about the movers at a future date.

Oh, so far, not a stitch knit. We're a little cramped in here, so I haven't braved it just yet. I'm afraid I'll just get going and some pet something will happen, and yarn and/or needes will be everywhere. Perhaps I'll give it a go tomorrow.

15 and a half hours

I have 15.5 hours to compress my three (3) bedroom ranch into brown cartons for the movers. They are movers, not packers and movers.

It's amazing:
1. how much crap I have
2. how much clothing I have accumulated spanning sizes 6 to 12. I wish I was still a size 6.
3. how people who collect chachki move. Blessedly, I collect yarn, not knick knacks.
4. how miffed Max is about all this.
5. how I have moved well over twenty times in my life, and I still hate packing.
6. how as a result, I leave it to the last 15.5 hours.

Let's hope I find some kind of box for my TV.
Thankfully, my fiberglass sea kayak is already on the East coast.