morning travels

I consider myself very fortunate that I don't have a long trip to work in the morning, although I do sometimes yearn for an hour or so of knitting time on a train. Non-existent knitting time aside, I just can't beat walking through my kitchen door to work in my pjs for a couple of hours, before getting boys out the door and onto various buses, and then back to work for a few more hours before all the boys tumble back in the door again.

I must confess, though, that I do take a tiny little jaunt every morning, without fail. I stop off at the Greet Ranch in Wyoming, which has been continuously ranched by the same family for one hundred years. A little hop, and I am collecting cattle in the snow (in early Ocbober!) or visiting an abandoned homestead (the isolation defies my ability to grasp it) or finding arrowheads or checking out ancient pictographs or watching english shepherd pups grow up.

Carol's photos and writing style are a wonderful documentation of her life, and I love the way every post takes me out of New Jersey and into Wyoming. So I was thrilled when she announced that she is offering a calendar for sale, featuring her photos. Now I can be transported all the time! Go order one now, if you don't have your 2010 calendar already, or even if you do. You get the benefit of beautifully unique pictures all year plus the satisfaction of supporting an honest-to-goodness American ranching family.

tammed if I do

We all know from previous posts that I am not the most fashion-forward of people. In fact, I am pretty much fashion ignorant (and happy that way) and I tend to highly value my personal comfort and wallet's well-being over any particular trend.

(My first confession/apology of the day: My mother has provided a great role model in this regard and like any good daughter, I completely did not appreciate this fact while I was growing up. This is not to say that my mother is a frump; as anyone who knows her will attest, she is very stylish. But in my youth I could never understand why she put comfort first, or why she refused to buy into any particular brand name on her heinie or purse. I am only now able to appreciate the tremendous gift she gave me.)

I do recognize that I am somewhat in the minority on the whole "I pay no attention to fashion" thing, and so when I give gifts I do try to take what people are wearing in this century into account. Hence my knitting the 5th Avenue Infinity Scarf (which by the way, is done) for a very fashionable recipient. The scarf ended up using much less yarn than the pattern called for, so I decided to try and make a hat to match it. I knew what I wanted: one of those slouchy beret/tam sort of things that I see all the people on the cover of People wearing these days. I do recognize that is probably not where to look for fashion guidance. This is why I am a fashion loser, people.

I started out with this pattern, but an entirely different yarn and hook size (plus it took me a few attempts before it clicked that Australian and US crochet directions use the same terms for different stitches). I went merrily along and then realized that I was producing something that would be more suited for a rastafarian with a whole lot of dreads to store in it, and I still had a ways to go:



(Yes, I suffer from Forrest Gump Syndrome.)

So I ripped back, and got what I thought was a pretty good hat. Until my LSH started humming the Fat Albert theme song every time he saw me working on it.



So I ripped back again, and now even I realize that it is entirely too small, and my LSH's office manager told me that I had ruined it and it needed to go back to the way it was.


Argh! Back to the drawing board, and this is only ONE RECIPIENT. The backlog of gifts is starting to pile up. But at least I will have the perfect tam/slouchy beret, though probably one that the recipient wouldn't be caught dead wearing because it is so last season or just too darn ugly.

Which leads me to my second confession/apology of the day: I recently stated that my LSH's family did not read this blog on a regular basis. As I discovered during Thanksgiving weekend, that is a big fat lie. My LSH has demanded a public retraction and apology, so here it is, plus a big wave to everyone. I think that he would also like me to state for the record (although he did not specifically request it) that I did not in fact wear pants that I purchased from the thrift store to Thanksgiving dinner. Those particular pants were purchased off a clearance rack about four years ago. Just so we are all clear on that particular point.

a year in review

I did it... I finished phase one of my boy-gift project. The photo album for 2005 came out really, really well, if I do say so myself, and I am pleased to have at least one year done and organized. I highly recommend Picaboo. I had trouble ordering the album due to the very high traffic on their site today, and a live person who actually lives and works in this country very patiently and kindly walked me through various fixes until I was able to complete the order. With humor! And friendliness! And did I mention patience?

The high volume of traffic was due to the fact that they were running a "buy one, get one free" promotion. This applied no matter how many you purchased. I was so fired up about getting four albums for the price of two (as well as getting one year under my belt) that I decided that I would try to whip out another one before the offer expired at midnight tonight. After all, I had figured out the program at this point, right? And I knew how to work it that much more quickly, right? Never mind that I estimate it took me about 25 hours to complete the first one. I am nothing if not completely delusional about time.

I went to upload the photos from last year -- because I discovered that it is hard to work too far back, and I was resolved to start each year as soon as it was finished, due to this memory problem I am having that only seems to be getting worse by the day. I quickly discovered, however, we had taken very few photos in 2008.

In fact, entire months had elapsed with only a minimal amount of shots. Of those, many consisted of photo-journals shot by Terzo as he walked around the house. A representative sample (from one day alone, and this is just a sample of that particular set):

The vast remainder were, unfortunately, taken by me -- but only to document certain events for this here blog. Turns out blogging is really, really bad in this regard. As fascinating as random pictures of knitting, sandwiches and sheep may be, they don't really lend themselves to creating a quality photo album chock-full of cherished family memories.

Who you gonna call in such dire circumstances?

Your family, of course. Thank goodness for my parents and sister-in-law faithfully snapping away at every piano recital, birthday party and family get-together. Right now, they are the only thing standing between me and photo album disaster. Not to mention that whole "mother of the year" award thing, and we all know how doomed I am on that particular account.

tally ho

Today was a red letter (or perhaps I should say yellow vest) day for Primo. Today Harry and he rode in a proper foxhunt. Well, I supposed technically speaking Primo was the only one that rode as Harry was in charge of carrying him.

I say it was a yellow vest day for Primo because his riding instructor was most insistent that he be wearing a canary yellow vest today as part of the required formal riding dress. Unfortunately she sprang this requirement on me with less than one week's notice. (She started out by asking Primo what colors of sweater vests he had in his wardrobe, to which he replied in a very cold tone, "I don't wear sweater vests.")

Guess where I came up with a yellow vest? That's right, my favorite store. It wasn't quite the right color -- more of a lemon, actually -- but, by God, it was a yellow vest that fit the kid, and the fact that it only cost $3 made it all the more perfect.

Here he is, modelling the yellow vest:

What's that you say? You can't see the yellow vest under his jacket? He was pretty pleased about that fact, although he did end up appreciating the extra layer given the chilly, windy weather. He will never, ever admit that the darn thing actually came in handy, while we all had the satisfaction of knowing that he was quite proper, even if no one could tell.

It actually was a cool thing to watch, at least at the beginning as they set out with the hounds.

After the initial excitement, though, it was a whole bunch of hurry up and wait. Actually, it was a whole bunch of take cell phone calls from the trainer about where they may possibly appear in the next ten minutes while driving over muddy unpaved roads in a more or less futile search for a random glimpse of them.

To give you an idea, here is the closest we got. Even this sighting was quite fortunate. I have helpfully marked out Primo and a hound for you. The only reason we knew it was our son was because he was on the tallest horse. That, and the fact that his vest was lemon yellow instead of the canary yellow that every one else was wearing.

We finally threw in the towel and headed back to the hunt club's headquarters to wait. Two and half hours after the hunt started, we saw the hounds coming down the road, a bit less enthusiastic than at the beginning.

Primo wasn't far behind.

You may not be able to see it, but that tight little grin on his face means -- in the world of a fourteen year old boy -- that he had really good time and he can't wait to go out again. I've gotten quite proficient at these sorts of translations lately.

happy turkey day

Best thanksgiving wishes to all. I hope you have many things about which to be thankful; I know I do.

Enjoy your turkey dinner!

new obsession

I know it will come as a complete and total shock to my friends, family and readers, but I have a dirty little secret. (Well, apparently one of many, as yesterday's post demonstrated.) I am easily obsessed. Once I get ahold of a new one, whoa Nelly. All bets are off until I get it out of my system.

Today's obsession? This.

Every year, I try to make something for my kids for Christmas. Far from making my holidaze more stressful, I have found that it actually serves as a much-needed pressure valve and puts some meaning (for me) back into this overly-commercialized extravaganza. I usually sew or knit something simple. They have been highly appreciative of my simple efforts: think John Deere flannel sleep pants, Giants pillow shams, knit balaclavas. But this year, I am all out of handcrafted ideas.

Thank goodness I came up with another one today. I am going to make them photo albums using Picaboo. Right now our photos are either (1) in a box in the attic (pre-digital camera) or (2) in a folder on my computer (post-digital camera). My goal is to get them into photo albums, with a copy for each kid so they have their own when they (sob!!!!) leave home. I am so behind on photo albums that I calculate it will take me about 10 years to catch up, even if I do two years per Christmas.

Picaboo came highly recommended by a friend, who had used it to make a vacation album, and so far I agree with her. It is scrapbooking for people who can't be bothered with fancy paper, scissors and stickers. I can't seem to stop... I keep thinking "just one more set of pages"...

Sound familiar, knitters? In my defense, the Infinity Scarf is almost done. Now, if I can just tear myself away from the photo album to cast off.

ode to my favorite store

Thrift store, how do I love thee?

Let me count the ways.

You provide me with five new (to me) pairs of pants in my size,

In brands that I like,

For $42.

And lo, though I will eventually get sheep poop and dog mud on each and every pair,

I will not overly mind.

For I can always return the tired, the stained, the holey to you,

And you will provide me with a wide selection of new (to me) pairs

While saving me from the horrors of the dressing room mirror,

And the mall parking lot.