A change of pace

I've knit a lot this year. (So much that I've been asked who's doing my day job.) Knitting recharges me and allows me an escape from the stresses of life. (And exchanges it with other stresses. Instead of worrying about tenure or the state of the U.S. economy, I stress about whether I have enough yarn to finish a sweater.) And since I have the attention span of a puppy (Squirrel!) it's a good thing to do while I'm doing other things - watching TV, reading, prepping for classes...

I knit my first socks this year. And my first sweater. And started to feel like I'm actually pretty good at this thing. Time to try something different. Something more challenging.

I found a lovely pattern on this great knitting website. The pictures were gorgeous, the model so chic and fashionable... I couldn't resist.

Lace is quite different from a chunky woolen sweater made for a child who has no coat, or thick wool socks made for a child who doesn't own shoes. Tiny needles. The finest yarn.

It was an experience.

And here it is, in all its glory.






The color is truer on the second picture. I'm much better at knitting than photographing knitting. It looked pretty good while on the needles (but I forgot to take a picture) but just blossomed after my (rather amateurish) blocking.

It's strong, warm, and beautiful. Just like the person for whom it was made.

Knits

A couple of weeks ago, I received a package of yarn. Opening it felt a little like Christmas - I didn't know what I was going to get. Warm Woolies is this great organization that sends hand-knit woolens to children in orphanages in China and Russia, among other countries. They will also send you yarn for the price of shipping, so that you can knit lots of socks and sweaters for them. I love it.

My previous shipment contained skeins of a lovely wool/cashmere/silk blend, which I (not-so) promptly turned into socks and sweaters:







This time, I got three different yarns, and I'm still trying to figure out what they will become. To warm up, I made a pair of socks that Kathryn wanted, but which didn't fit her (and which she couldn't have anyway).



It seems weird to be making thick warm woolies when it's been so hot that today's 89 degree high felt like a cold snap, but really, I wouldn't have it any other way.

Irony

Remember the song "Ironic", by Alanis Morissette?

That song drove me nuts. A long list of things that weren't ironic. Rain on your wedding day? Bad luck. Traffic jam when you're already late? Ditto. Black fly in your chardonnay? You get the picture.

Anyone who knows me knows that I don't do the great outdoors. At least, not when it's warm out. (Ski slopes with fresh powder? No problem.) Certainly not on a day like today, with temperatures in the mid-90s and high humidity. Summer and I do not get along.

I didn't stray from my urban habitat today. Divided my time between work and home. Spent maybe 15 minutes between my driveway and garage, helping a friend move boxes that he needed to store here temporarily. Went to dinner. Sat on the bench outside the restaurant for a few minutes waiting for a table.

Our names were called. We sat down, ordered, waited for food. I happened to look down. Hmm. How did I get that scab on the back of my knee? Looked more carefully. That's no scab. That's a tick!

Visions of Lyme disease and Rocky Mountain spotted fever. Are there ticks on the kids? How long do I have to sit here before I can get this THING off me? John tells me not to pick it off with my fingers. I, true to form, freak out for the remainder of dinner.

Finally, we get home. John performs his minor surgery (I can't look!) and expertly removes the darn thing. Healthy, very much alive, and thankfully, flat. I expertly identify it, with the help of google. A lone star tick.




Now, that? Is irony.

Thirteen years

One lost parent. Just three weeks after we married. I remember the shock and grief, and I was glad to be there for you.

Two children. Children so obviously ours. They look like you (lucky them) unless they're pouting (which happens so very often). They have your gorgeous eyes and my temperament (oh boy). They're beautiful and smart and funny and emotional and loud. So. Very. Loud.

Three states. Minnesota, where we started our lives together. California, where we had met, and then went back to, and then couldn't wait to leave. Indiana, where we would never have imagined ourselves, but it's working out pretty well.

Four moves. To California, the 2000 mile trip with the 1 year old who decided in Bakersfield that she was done with being in a car. She screamed all the way to West L.A. In rush hour traffic. In California, from the too-expensive ritzy apartment to student housing, where we were cramped, but it was good. To Indiana, the 2000 mile trip with the 3 week old who decided in Colorado that she was done being in a car. Colorado is quite a distance from Indiana. My shoulder still cramps thinking about holding my pinky in her mouth as a pacifier. At least the almost-5 year old was a good traveler. In Indiana, from the mouse-infested (OK, I exaggerate) house to our current home, where I hope to stay a good long time.


Five 'jobs' (for you). From grad student to postdoc to postdoc to lecturer to professor. We made it through all that! And a few more jobs for me.

One neurotic dog. Many dead fish. Countless moments, with the good outnumbering the bad. Some unmentioned number of extra pounds. More gray hairs.

Two weddings, both with plenty of people that at least one of us had never met.

Would I do it again?

Well...

I think maybe eloping would have been a better choice. :)

Succumbing to peer pressure

Fine. I'm here.

Truth is, I'm here because I'm really supposed to be prepping for tomorrow's class and I left my textbook at work so I guess I can't. Bummer.

Hardest thing about this blogging thing? Coming up with some witty name. Everyone else seems to be able to do it, but not me (or is it I?)

So I thought I'd go with what I expect to put on here.

Kids. Two. Spirited (and that's an understatement), funny, aggravating, amazing.

Knits. Make them, but don't often keep them. I like it that way.

Eats. Always preparing them. (as in the noun. I needed to make the title grammatically consistent. I'm obsessive that way). Sometimes I even come up with something good.

Work. Yeah, have that too.

Other stuff. Of course I can't be expected to limit myself!

And that's that for now. Back to the work part...