Sign Here

If it weren't for a computer glitch at the title company we'd be up at the bank signing papers to refinance our mortgage so we can pay less per month and pay it off faster at the same time--in about 5 years. Wasn't that a brilliant idea Durwood had? He's very smart about money and investments. I'm the grasshopper in this relationship and he's the ant. I'm convinced that if you have money, you can spend it and the future will take care of itself. Evidently that isn't the case. He tells me if a person doesn't save money or invest it, there won't be any when they (me, for instance) get old and gray and feeble. When I told him that I don't intend to get feeble so I'll be okay, he scoffed. Yes, gentle readers, he scoffed, telling me that if I didn't save or invest my pennies I'd be a non-feeble little old lady standing on street corners rattling nickels in a tin cup try to sell pencils. Do you think he's right? You do, don't you? I can tell by the look on your face. You too think I need to save my money so that I won't be a broke and cranky, non-feeble, gray haired old lady. Well, okay. I'll be putting my spare nickels in a sock tout suite, but I won't like it and you can't make me. There has to be an old, lonely millionaire out there I can be nice to so he'll leave me his fortune because I'm swell. Somewhere there is, I'm sure of it. (Yep, that's about as likely as Mom winning the Publisher's Clearing House millions because she ordered a blue-million magazines from them. Oh well, I'm keeping the fantasy handy just in case.) We'll be getting a call from the bank-lady, Sandipa, sometime today and toddling back up to the bank to sign. That means that I'll be heading back downstairs to reorganize the canned foods and make room for the boxes of wraps and bags on shelves instead of having them crammed into a box in the way as soon as I'm done posting this.

January 16--Salvador Dali, The Accommodations of Desire. He was so purposeful, so calculatedly eccentric that I felt as though he was a shadow behind his persona gauging our perceptions. There was that conscious gleam in his eyes when he knew he was being watched. So many of his works were made to stir up protest among the collectors. A regular spotlight hog, that crazy Spaniard.

Grr. That was another re-issue of art. I can't help it that I remember what's been in the previous year's calendar and it distracts me to the point that I can barely write about them. Get over it, Barbara, for pity's sake. Is it snowing where you are? It sure is here. *sigh* I suppose it's to be expected in January.
--Barbara

La Nina

I was reading an analysis of the last month's weather in the newspaper the other day and one of the meteorologists said that La Nina is what's making our weather so wacky. Essentially the surface temps in part of the Pacific Ocean are just a few degrees cooler making things milder and wetter around here. Mild we got, wet not so much. But I can't complain since I've only had to get out my big red snowblower once this winter. Yesterday I updated the Bay Lakes Knitting Guild blog, let Porter out for a potty break, and did the laundry. It took a lot longer than I'd anticipated to redo the blog. I putz and consider, looking at pictures, trying to decide what to say and how to say it. Probably few people look at it, but I do it anyway because I said I would and I like doing it. I also took the second load of things out of the basement to Goodwill. Durwood's afraid I'm going to "give away all the good stuff" but I'm trying to keep the good stuff and let the rest of it go to good homes. I'm tired of giving house-room to things we haven't laid hands on in nearly 10 years and aren't going to use in the next 10. Durwood marinated some chicken legs in a new marinade he found in one of the WW cookbooks then we baked them, serving them with fresh broccoli and couscous. It was a delicious and good-looking supper. We've been enjoying the new WW cookbooks he got from the bargain room at Cook's Corner before Christmas. I'm glad we're not people who always make the same things on the same day. The only "day" we have is Tuesday's fish day, and that's because we put the garbage out on Tuesday night so any fish wrapper or stinky skin doesn't hang around too long. Pretty smart, eh? We, well, he made us breakfast yesterday with Henny & Penny eggs, one for each. They were markedly better tasting than regular old grocery eggs, and I got to collect them my own self. You wish you were here for that meal, trust me on that.

January 15--Egypt, Bronze Cat. Cat sat on the plinth in a shaft of sunlight. The light cut through the dusty air in Uncle Albert's library. Gemma and Bart teased that one day Cat would blink, stretch out, and then pounce down across Uncle Albert's desk to chase mice. "Most probably," Albert said, laughing at the rich imaginations of his great-niece and -nephew. Cat was offended that anyone, even those foolish children who always hung around, would think that he would stoop to pursuing such pedestrian prey as mice. A few times in his younger days he had been reduced to foraging for a mouse or a vole. They were adequately tasty little morsels but he preferred a dish of diced liver and chicken. He'd never developed a tolerance for fur.

I just had a couple in here who spent nearly $600 on snorkeling gear for a Tahitian cruise. *sigh* If they hadn't been so nice I might have had to be rude to them out of sheer envy. Plus she said they have to take dress clothes and that is so not my idea of a vacation. A clean shirt and nice pair of cotton khaki slacks with sandals, that's vacation dress up for me. Ta ta.

--Barbara

Hen Fruit

I wanted to show you that Henny & Penny's eggs aren't just for show. Durwood fried up some Nueske's bacon, I made the toast, and he fried us each an egg. Mmmmmmmmmmmm. I am certain that the egg was so delicious because of the excellent care I took of them while their parents were away skiing in Whistler. Their outstanding flavor had nothing to do with the organic and enriched feed that their owner/parents feed them on a daily basis or the warm and spacious quarters they live in, I quite convinced of it. Don't confuse me with facts.











I finished the Brangelina Mitts last night before bed. They're called Brangelina because they match the Brangelina hat that is my favorite. Thanks for the pattern, Crazy Aunt Purl! Instead of a skein of Wool Ease Thick & Quick it calls for I held one strand of Patons Classic Wool in Mercury with one strand of Bernat Alpaca in Stone. Those yarn colors were made for each other.

Baby, It's Cold Outside

Still and gray and barely 20 degrees. Ugh. No way would you catch me piling on the clothes and hiking over to Lambeau to watch the Packers play the... um, the (who is it, Dear?)... oh yeah, the Giants, with the good Manning brother, Eli. Eli's the good brother because I heard when Peyton was drafted by one NFL team (I don't remember which one) and he decided he didn't want to play with them so he said "I don't think so." What an ego!!! How dare he think that he was too good to play for the team? I'm not a football fan but I'm even less of a Peyton Manning fan for his overweening ego. I very nastily hope that the little brother, Eli, outstrips his big brother's overall football performance. But not today. I might not be a fan but people that I love (Durwood, DS, DD, DIL1&2, TW & AJ, the list goes on) are fans, plus if they lose then the fly-overs stop. That's really the only part of football that I like. I couldn't live in GB in another part of the city that the airplanes don't fly directly over, it feels like they fly over just for me.

January 14--Thomas Cole, The Titan's Goblet. Lake fell asleep with the book open on her chest. She had begged and pleaded to be allowed to stay awake to read and she'd been granted an extra half hour. the dream began as soon as her eyelashes tangled together and she sighed out the first deep breath of the night. Her dreamship sailed off the red and rocky cliffs of the land of Rockaway. Her ship, The Marlin, served her well, always running ahead of storms. She carried astronomers and scientists who studied the stars and collected rare and beautiful plants from the exotic lands she visited. Captain Lake had heard stories of the natives of Rockaway being under the rule of a giant with a bad temper and a worse reputation.

Time to go off and get a haircut. I'm hoping to convince Durwood to thaw out some bacon while I'm getting clipped so we can have some H&P eggs with toast and Nueske's bacon. Oh, OJ too. Sayonara.
--Barbara

Charity Begins At Knitting Guild

Thursday night in the midst of a (pain in the ass) snowstorm a few hardy souls made it to the Bay Lakes Knitting Guild meeting. There was a tantalizing heap of bags on a back table that proved to be "kits" of yarn and a pattern to knit hats, scarves, and mittens for charity. The Guild has adopted a couple elementary schools in town to help provide warm accessories for kids who don't have them. Some of the bags contained the softest yarn and patterns to knit chemo caps. I took a skein of Wool Ease Thick 'n Quick in a two-color ply of forest green and burgundy. While I'm intrigued to make the pattern clipped to the bag, I suspect that I'd have been knitting a helmet because the yarn's a bit thicker than what's called for. Happily I had another free pattern (no copyright infringement to worry about) down in my files so I got out a couple circular needles and cast on.

The other package I chose had 2 partial skeins in it, one light blue and one brown, to make a striped hat. I took the pattern for that one; it turned out to be a cabled hat. I'm slower than molasses in January at making cables so I searched the free patterns on Ravelry for a striped hat pattern I liked. Naturally I chose the Helix (sic) Striped Hat that calls for 3 colors. I thought I'd take a stab at knitting it with only two colors but if it doesn't work I thought I'd toss in this crazy green I had downstairs. I may just use the green anyway since the three of them together please me no end. (we all know I am categorically unable to follow directions as written)


I've been chugging along on the Red Marl sweater at work. I'm less than 20 rows from finishing the Fair Isle and then it'll be straight red knitting which should go faster.






My plan is to finish the second Brangelina Mitt tonight so that I can cast on the first Red Marl sweater sleeve or maybe I'll see about casting on both and knitting them together so they're the same length. My Clearing friend, Fran, was doing that a couple years ago for that very reason and I thought it was brilliant.




It's quite difficult to limit myself to only knitting 2 rows on my Maple Tree Scarf every day, but forging ahead would defeat the whole purpose. Did I show you that I found a couple partial skeins of green sock yarn to carry along in honor of the lichens on the tree? I feel very smug about it. (Thanks, Z-Dawg.)



DS just called to say that they're in MPLS waiting for their flight home and would we please come over to let Porter out to potty tomorrow afternoon? Yay, I get to play with Porter. She's a lot more fun(ner) to visit than Henny & Penny. Although I did get to goose both chickens in the tail when I went over to shut them in for the night. They were perched side by side on the doorstep of the roost and didn't move when I asked them to, so I tootsed them both in the keester, one at a time, took off the ramp and shut the door. Foolish birds.

Saturday Adventures in Chicken-ry

So today's my last day to mind Henny & Penny. I was running a bit behind because I called a friend and talked for quite a while. Not that the girls really minded. They were willing to go out of the roost but only after I scattered some of their feed out on the ramp and the snow. I gave Henny her morning pat and I almost got to pat Penny but she squawked and flapped back into the roost. The goofball. She's the prettiest too. Hmm, maybe that's why Henny lets me pet her; she knows she's not the fancy one so she has to be nicer, not a prima donna like her sister. There were 2 eggs waiting for me in the egg box. See? That makes 7 since Wednesday. Those girls are breakfast-making machines. One of today's eggs has a tiny crack in it so we'll have to have eggs and bacon or maybe an omelet tomorrow. Awww, too bad. Our grand-chickens make very tasty great-grand-eggs. Last night I nearly didn't go to Friday Night Knitting and Yoga. I was all cozy warm and full of the yummy ham and cabbage stew that Durwood made for supper and my right knee has hurt since Wednesday's yoga class so I was this close to not going. Then I thought about how I'd been so excited that Mardi started teaching Yoga at Harmony Cafe and it'd be bad if I ducked out the second night so I went. I am so glad I did. Not only were there only 3 students but doing yoga for an hour made me feel 100% better. One hundred percent, I kid you not. We did lots of downward facing dog and would segue into another pose and then back to the dog. It was the most fluid workout I'd done so far and it was much more what I imagined when I started going. I loved it, I was breathless and sweaty and I'm a little sore today but I loved it and can't wait for next week. You should yoga, even a little, it makes you feel awesome.

January 13--Amadeo Modigliani, The Italian Woman. There was a world of pain in her eyes. She sat on the sidewalk in the shade on an awning, always in black, her hands folded in her lap. No matter what time I went out or came in, she was always there in her chair. At times I wondered if she were even awake or alive, but then a neighbor or a child would come by and pass a word with her. She never smiled, never started a conversation. I couldn't decide how old she was, her skin was unlined and her hair was black. She could have been any age from forty to seventy and I bet she was nearing seventy because she sat so still. I wanted to learn Italian just to hear her story.

Now I'm going to wander off to do something else. Maybe knit. Ciao.
--Barbara

I Am A Saint!

Really I am. A veritable saint. On Wednesday when I went over to shut Henny & Penny in for the night it was probably 50 degrees and they didn't want to be shut in but I had to shut them in because I was on my way to yoga and they just don't wait for you to arrive at yoga and furthermore they don't really appreciate latecomers. Om. First I chased Henny & Penny around a bit, then I got the hoe to use to kind of herd them into the roost. You can't herd chickens, at least I can't. Finally I got smart and left them alone for a minute, well, I stopped chasing them. Henny went right up the ramp and Penny followed so I quick moved the ramp and dropped the door to shut them into the warm for the night. I went happily off to yoga never realizing that this was on my shoe. Ew, chicken bappie. Ew. (and random snowflakes are floating down. Oh no, you don't) The good thing is there was another egg that I wrapped in a paper towel and tucked into my backpack to be safe until I got home. Thursday morning it was snowing and no way did those chickens want to go out of the roost. I was firm, me and my hoe handle, we clonked on the back of the roost and then shooed them out the door, they walked into the snow, complaining all the way. Namaste. As I said yesterday Henny wanted to go right back in but I soothed her with a pat or two and a sprinkle of chicken feed (chicken feed, heh) so I could put in fresh water and feed--and collect the only egg. Last night they were happily in their roost when I arrived in the 4" of snow to shut them in because I was on my way to Knitting Guild, but there was no egg. No egg! And I looked, I even shoved Penny out of the way and she did not like that. (Tough, I'm the grandma here and I don't take any guff from my grandchickens.) This morning when I went to let them out there were two eggs. Yay! It took a bit of coaxing to get them to come out into the snowy yard but I kicked the snow away from some of the ground and they got the message that it was okay to walk in snow. Now we have 5 eggs. Do you think there'll be one when I go to shut them in for the night? I don't know, but I get to go tend them on Saturday too and collect those eggs. This has been a fun and profitable, if slightly poopy, job. I think I'm going to go get barn boots at Fleet Farm.

There's no fiction today. By the time I got home last night I spent some time with Durwood, ate my yogurt and cookies, and went to bed. Today I'm going to try to take it easy, read magazines, and knit. I already blew the snow and shoveled a bit, and those floating flakes out there better not try to get together and make something of themselves. They'd just better not.

--Barbara