So Many Crafty People...

I just stumbled upon this at oneprettything (which led me to craftstylish). First, this is really clever. If you love hats but don't want to knit them, you can still have a handmade hat! And if you have sweaters that you no longer wear, there you go - you don't have to feel guilty about them wasting space in your closet. And maybe you're really lucky and you live some place cold and people actually do donate real wool sweaters to thrift shops so that you can go buy them and make these really cool hats. So send me a couple of sweaters...

You really need to visit oneprettything. Lots of unique items and ideas.

Mmm. A month since my last post. Meant to wish you Happy Thanksgiving. Short and sweet on our end. Well, I was in bed sick on Wednesday, and much of Friday. Did get have this great fun on Thanksgiving, though.

Get the Captain Morgan stance? Who knew that after I promised .50 cents a log I'd wind up owing $13.00? I thought maybe 5 bucks at the most. Guess the boy's built for choppin' wood. Works for me.

God Bless America

Absolutely.

REVERB

Pronunciation: \ri-ˈvərb, ˈrē-ˌ\

Function: noun

Etymology: short for reverberation

Date: 1953: an electronically produced echo effect in recorded music ; also : a device for producing reverb

I don't know if he's echoing, but he's definitely got something going on. This is Pastor Ryan. This is Reverb.

Get addicted, like I have, to Ryan's blog. He's different. He's cool. He has lots of, um, I don't know how to describe his photos. Love them. He's got a cute little kid and a cute wife. A full life. Tattoos. He doesn't mince words. He's a man of God. He's funny. And he'll put you off milk for a while.


I leave you with one of my favorite things. I love windows.

Fall Fun Shoot

Oh wow - what a gorgeous day for a shoot. DS's first shoot. It was a "fun shoot," with about 15 or so kids between about 10 yrs old and 18 yrs old. Here's DS, loaded for bear. (Well, it's not loaded, 'cause you never load it until you're ready to shoot, and it wasn't for bear - it was for clay targets. But you get the picture.)


The kids had a blast. There were bronze, silver and gold medals for shooting, and 3 huge trophies awarded for Sportsmanship, Safety, and Team Building. DS won the trophy for Team Building. But I have to say, every kid there deserved a trophy. They were super safe, and everyone tried to encourage everyone else. But guess who won the Team Building trophy! Yeah! DS! A bronze for shooting and the Team Building trophy. He's a great kid. They have the best coach ever, too.

Got a little - emphasis on little - knitting done while I was there, between shots. My LSU Jaywalker scarf, inspired by TurtleGirl.

The color's just a bit off - couldn't get it just right. Of course it's purple and gold, Lorna's Laces sock, snared from Knits by Nana. I like the alternating pools & stripes.

But I'm sooooo sloooooww. I win the limbo of slow. You know, how slow can you go. Me. I win.

Summer - Where has it gone? (If you're in Texas, it's still hangin' around...)

SUMMER is for...
It's birthdays (here's the purse DD gave me).

DH and DS gave me a gift certificate to one of my LYS's - where the heck do I start with that? Maybe I'll pick up in the middle of those Great American Afgan classes...

It's tons of birthdays, actually. Me. Husband's niece's husband. FIL. SIL. Great nephews (2 of them). Friends (quite a few - Cathy, I love you!). Co-workers.

When I was a kid, no one had an August birthday except me. I thought it was strange that only I should have a birthday during the summer. Now everyone does.

I've only just starting knitting again. I had a rotator cuff repair in July. Oh, honey, it hurts. I'd rather have a baby, any day. My doctor starts physical therapy the day after surgery, and I've been at it 3 days a week since then. And at home. So now I can knit and I don't know what to knit first. Or rather, what to finish first. The denim bag for DH? The school-colors scarf for soccer this winter? Start the tank top I never got around to? How about finishing that Noni bag I started ages ago?

My intentions are good. I spend oodles of time on Ravelry looking for just the right pattern to inspire me. I have to stop looking. I'm overwhelmed.

So instead, I spend time wishing I could be organized. Like this.

Or this.

Right.

It hurts to knit

Nuts. I'm trying to finish this little drawstring bag thingy knit in Rowan Denim, for my daughter, but it hurts to knit. I want to knit this quick little snuggle-toy thingy for a friend's baby, but it hurts to knit. Then I found the cutest washcloth with everyone's favorite mouse on it (here), and I thought that would be really cute for the baby, too, but - yeah.

Now, it's kind of a joke around my house about my being sort of klutzy. I've sprained my right ankle twice in adulthood. Once when I was trying to do one of those jump in the air and kick your heels together moves for my daughter when she was little, and we were watching Pete's dragon and dancing along. Then once in New Mexico when we were walking down to the lake to fish - the water had washed away the sand below the steps, and I didn't know it until it was too late. Wow. That was fun. We finished our camping trip, drove to Carlsbad Caverns and I waited for the DH and kids to go through the caves, then drove the umpteen hours home with a foot the size of a basketball.

And let's not talk about all the times I've fallen and taken the skin off my hands and knees. And raised up under DD's loft bed and whacked my head full force on the bed. And all those other things.

I tore my rotator cuff in April. It hurts. Let me take this opportunity to thank every one who has told me how much the surgery for it hurts. I appreciate that, I really do. I have a pretty high tolerance for pain (I think I do, anyway), but it's the inconvenience of it all that I really dread. Who has time for that? And all that physical therapy? Oh, and one person said I'd have to sleep sitting up. Great. I'll have to prop myself up like a baby so I won't fall off our waist-high bed. 'Cause if anyone would fall out of the bed, it would be me.

Well, this has really put a damper on knitting. Even if I hold my left hand still and just move my right hand, it still hurts and gets really tired really fast. It's the holding the needle, I guess. It's amazing how many muscles we use for such small movements. I was really hoping to take a shot at a clay target soon, since DS is learning that now, but that will have to wait. What a pain.

Maybe I'll get my camera back soon and be inspired to try my Photoshop Elements 6 - finally. Nothing else to do, huh? I'll go through Pioneer Woman's entire photography section and try out everything that will work in PE. And I'll get to keep up with ALL of her give-aways! PW, I love you!

And here are a couple of shots (pardon the pun) of DH, going through one of his exercises.




You can't see the shotgun, but somehow I timed the shot (camera shot) just as he hit the targets. You can see the dirt flying. This is a great sport, lots of family oriented atmosphere, and fun. We'll talk about it at a later time.

Meanwhile - Proverbs 3:7 Acknowledge Him in all your ways, and He will direct your paths.

Out of sight, out of mind

Well, there aren't many who would argue the out of mind part.

I started off this blog thinking oh boy, I'm gonna have me a blog no one can resist. Yeah huh. Even I can resist it. I just haven't had the oomph to get to it. Maybe 'cause my camera's on the fritz and I've sent it in for repairs. I upgraded my Photoshop Elements, but I haven't even had the patience to stick with that! I really must get off my duff...

Prom is over. She was beautiful. She always is, but she was a knock out. She and the date looked fabulous. It was all worth it. The shopping, and the arguing, and the money. Secretly, I loved it. As a mom, I enjoyed (almost) everything about it. I'm loaded for bear now - bring on her senior prom!

DS continues to improve his trap skills, even though he only gets to practice Saturdays. He actually won the last little game they played - he was the only one out of the four of them there that day to get the last 3 in a row - and the others are in their teens and have been shooting longer. We need to join the trap & skeet club and get a good shotgun and a coach so that he can practice more often. His 4-H coach is phenomenal, so it will be difficult to choose someone to compliment him.

Found a new group on Ravelry - GRITS. Girls Raised in the South. I love this group! If you're from the South, you'll understand. There are just so many things that most of the world doesn't understand about the South! Have a visit to the group and you'll see what I mean. It's just a magic of it's own...

I get to use the word "ain't"

I never had a problem with my daughter using the word "ain't." We told her it was improper English, so she didn't use it. Now mind you, I grew up with the word "ain't." It was older than me, of course (oh, pardon me - it was older than I), but it didn't really bother me or pick at me or anything. We weren't close. Maybe I used it. Maybe I didn't. But it lived in my house.

Then my son came along. For a long time (relatively speaking, in an 11-yr old frame of reference) he didn't use the word "ain't." Then all of a sudden he'd pop out with it. "Since when did you use the word "ain't?" ('Cause in my day, as they say, they would always say (ooo, I like that) "ain't" ain't a word.) So a few times of that and he was good. No more ain't.

But me. I've paid my dues. I have good manners. I know how to "act like I've been some place" as they say. I don't say "ain't" in front of my kids. But sometimes - get this - I say "ain't."

Mmmm hm. Yup. Sure do. Now it's not a part of my every day vocabulary. I use it mostly for effect. I like to have effect. You have to reserve some things or they won't have any effect. My favorite line is, "That ain't gonna do it, sheriff." Test - who knows where that quote comes from?

I say "that ain't gonna do it sheriff" when one my kids doesn't take out the trash. (oops - busted. Guess I do say the word "ain't" in front of my kids. heh heh) Or if I want to make sure someone at work understands that I'm absolutely, unequivocally not going to do something, I might use the word "ain't." Have to watch who's around, though. Don't want to damage my professional image or anything, right?

Hey, you know what? Ain't. Ha. I said it. I have a couple of questions, though. Why do we say "the word 'ain't'?" (Well, I use that phrase. I don't know about you. But for the sake of argument...) And why, when it's a word we shouldn't use, do we "use" it instead of "say" it? You know. "Excuse me, Snicklefritz, we don't use that word." Ever notice that? Or is it just me, once again? I'd really like to know.

Oh, and just so you'll know, I really frown on the use of the word "ain't." Especially by anyone under the age of 18. Especially.

It's a Prom Thing

If you are or have been the parent of a prom-going teenager (if you are the parent of a teenager, my condolences), you will understand. And I need to hear from you because I am in serious need of support right now. Is this normal?


First, my beautiful DD is not a dress-up kinda gal. She's a soccer player. Her feet are permanently not-so-beautiful from playing soccer. When she ain't playin' soccer, she ain't happy. She's pretty. She makes sure her hair is just right every day. But no makeup, no jewelry most of the time, no dresses unless absolutely necessary.


So she's going to the prom. Ok. Um, so this means...we gotta get a dress, ok? And she no likey dresses, ok? And she no likey shopping, either, ok? And she sure no likey shoppin' wit Mom, ok? Nonetheless, I was all excited because we were going to be SHOPPING FOR A PROM DRESS!!! No, I didn't let her see how excited I was. I'm a cool Mom. (Do they still say "cool?") Must never show excitement around the DD, right? Well, she went with her friends. Yeah, I cried. Well, not really tears, but I wanted to. Does that make me weird?


And she found a dress. And it was alotsa money. As in - a lot. Of money. So I go by to see it and it was gone. I thought she would be bummed out, but turns out she said she wasn't "that crazy about it." For that much money, you better be good 'n crazy about it. Like, you better wanna marry it.


So we go and find a dress. And it is beautiful. But it's like pulling teeth. Can't decide. Need shoes. Don't like heels. Gotta have shoes so we can have the dress altered. Prom is in less than 30 days. Shouldn't she be freaking out? Well, she's not. But I AM. It's interfering with my sleep for cryin' out loud, don'tcha know? And the boutonniere for her date - don't we need to order that. No, Mom, we're not doing that yet. Oh. Ok. I'm just here to write the check, I forgot, I'll go back into my hole now. I'll post a photo when it's all said and done.


Oh, and let's not forget that she hasn't gotten her driver's license yet because she just hasn't had the get up and go to do the actual driving at driving school. So now, at 17, she's finally going. She went driving with me for the first time tonight. I always said she was going to be my good driver.


Oh, Lord, what was I thinking. She did ok, but my right foot is killing me where I drove it through the floorboard trying to slow us down. And turns out we're not too sure her depth perception is all that. And I realized that if I lost the use of both my legs, I'd be ok 'cause I'd be able to walk with my butt cheeks.


But we made it home. Without having to file an insurance claim. Thank you, Lord.


I leave you now with a photo of my late little friend, Ira. He was the coolest Hermit Crab. He lived in my office at work. Now you may think Ira is a funny name for a crab. (I admit, I did call him "little buddy" a lot.) But when my daughter's friend gave him to me, he lived in a shell with a Menorah painted on it. Don't ask me, I didn't paint it. So I figured I would give him a name that was rare down here in the backwards southern part of the States, and one that in fact I associate with people from up East who don't have a lot of "r's" in their dictionary. Except when they say Ira. And drawing. (Pronounced drawering.)


Ira was so cool. Twice he escaped, fell to the floor, and traversed the entire length of my not too small office, to be found hiding almost a week later behind the lateral file cabinet. (The first time was almost a week. The 2nd time I was hip to him and I found him right away. You gotta get up pretty early in the morning to get one over on me. Twice.) He luuuved to climb. And he only ever pinched me when I found him behind the file cabinet, and he about brought blood.


I miss Ira.

Bonding with my sewing machine again

It's been a long time. Poor baby has been so neglected. Only let out to see the light of day when someone gets desperate. (For how long now?) my husband has been trying to get me to make the Roman shade for our den. When Spring rolls around the morning sun blinds whoever is sitting in his chair. So yesterday I drug out poor baby and the fabric that I've had FOREVER, the pattern that I've feared FOREVER, and started cutting.

Cutting is always the scariest part, don't you think? I mean, it's - cutting. The fabric is rent in two. Or more. You can't go back. I can rip a seam. But I can't stick that fabric back together.

Anyway, I measured and cut and measured and cut and measured cut too short and added some on and sewed and measured and sewed some more. I'll show you the finished product when it's in the window. I got the stuff tonight to hang it up with, except for the brackets, which apparently aren't just lying around anywhere, so there's another stop I'll have to make on the way home from work tomorrow. But it will be worth it, I'm sure.

Hey, let's talk prom tomorrow. If you're a seasoned MOTD - mom of teen daughter - you'll be able to laugh at me. If you're just now getting to this prom stage like we are, you'll be able to laugh. Or cry. Oh, I don't mean 'cause it's sad - I mean 'cause you're losing your mind. Tomorrow.

Oh, and go see Ree and make the most fattening thing you can imagine. I mean, surely there's so much butter & marg in this thing, you'll be set for calcium for a few weeks.

I'm Baa-aaack!

Miracle of miracles. I'm back. We have computer. It is good. Life changes in just a few sweet days. No computer, might as well chunk the indoor plumbing. Dial 1-800-hey-Dell-beam-me-up. Dell delivers. 16-yr old daughter unpacks & sets up & why did I think she shouldn't have done that because hey I'm the tech guru in this house. (Abandon ship, all ye who must rely on She for your tech support.) Call ISP. Find Internet. Re-install indoor plumbing. Make new friends in India. (No, really. I had the nicest conversation with one guy. It's already getting hot there. 2000 people at the Dell place where he works. He and his sister used to fight over TV, before there was computer on every corner. Lots of IT places in my state? Yeah, I guess, but Dell is closing theirs... Is it summer there? Almost, but mostly yucky spring right now. What is your weather like in your part of the US? Lots of storms last night...Ok, it's finished loading now. And did you know Dell didn't give me any lousy speakers after we spent all that money?

Mmm. So this post is short. Now I can play with Photoshop and actually prove I've been knitting. Ok, knitting a little. Oooo - a mouse just ran across the floor! I gotta go...

(Photo of train station window at Disney World. I wish I wuz in Disney...)

The Road to Photoshop

Ok - so this is my first attempt at fiddling with Photoshop. I kind of like it. I think I'll go back and fiddle with it a little more, make it a little more - whatever it is that makes it look different - and take care of some of the shadows at the bottom.

This is the Tower of Terror at Disneyworld. Disneyworld. It really is magic. But that's another post.

Must. replace. the. ancient. pc. at. home.

I'm in a bit of a pickle. Need to do the taxes to buy a new pc. Can load the tax software on the old pc. What to do . . .

Hey, I gotta go. Maybe I'll actually get a little knitting done tonight!

A Display of Words

(laptop died - no posts lately. so sorry.)

HOPE

DREAM

LIVE LOVE LAUGH

SMILE

NO!!!!

You know those word signs that have reproduced exponentially? (I love that word. Exponentially. But if somehting happens exponentially, it always seems bad, huh? Like, the # of flu cases multiplied exponentially. Or, the number of Grackles and their associated gut-choking droppings has increased exponentially. But why can't I lose weight exponentially? Or reduce my wrinkles exponentially? Or get Thing 2 to do his homework exponentially? Oh, I digress - exponentially. Back to the subject at hand.)

You know those . . .?

And they're everywhere. They're in every goo-gah store in town. Every import store. (Import stores - but they're all in English...) Antique malls (but they're not antiques...). Department stores. EVERYWHERE!

I hereby promise to argue with those big signs telling me to live love laugh. I do already! And I dream! Every night. In color. Exponentially.

HOPE. Uh-uh.
SMILE. Why? The latest SMILE sign I saw was in the office of someone who FROWNS all the time. Guess she needs a reminder, huh?

Stop it already with the WORDS, will ya? Or at least say something else, like YOU NEED TO READ MORE (thanks, Dr. Foley). Or SMIRK. Or PONTIFICATE. Or EXPONENTIAL. LY. Ooo, I like that one.

Well, there is one I like, that I saw on a Norwegian blogger's site. JUL. Just that. Norwegian for Christmas. So pretty. Not telling me to do something. Just hey, it's Christmas, you like Christmas?

Pitiful bit of knitting

Well, I said this was going to be about knitting. No knitting yet, huh. Ok, here's a little. Very little, but it'll have to do. I've just been really unproductive the past few days.



This is one poor little Ballband dishcloth, pattern courtesy of Mason-Dixon Knitting, of course. The Ballband dishcloths are particularly thick when you use them. I love these things. I'm looking forward to trying them with the Peaches & Cream stripes. I'll conjur up the energy to post a few more knitting photos tomorrow.

I need a Sven

I have great husband (hereinafter referred to as KISH - Knight in Shining Armor). I'm blessed to have my Mom here since my Dad passed away. She's a big help. But I need a Sven.

I don't want the phone. That would require some initiative on my part. Just think. A Sven following you around all the time, reminding you. Get the oil changed. Almost out of tp. Do you think you should eat those chips?

Better yet, Sven following around my kids (hereafter referred to as Thing 1 and Thing 2). Put your homework in your backpack. Pick up your socks. Don't clip your toenails in the den. Clean off the bathroom counter. It's 15 minutes to curfew, better scoot along home. Get up. Go to bed. You get the picture.

Oh. Um, I do all that. Yeah, but Sven is cool. He has a sweet accent and hands out warm sweaters when it's cold. And he's so dang cheerful! Imagine all that cheerfulness following you around. And that accent - who doesn't love a Swedish accent? How could we possibly argue with that?

Where can I get a Sven?

Hey, Baby, It's about time it was cold outside!

We just don't get enough cold weather in this part of the country. But last night, sitting on the bleachers at the soccer game, I was wantin' a little of this:

Just a little, though. Don't like hot weather. Hey, Maine, send a little our way...

It's a brand new year and I have no resolutions - what does that mean?

First, I hope you had a very, very Merry Christmas, or a blessed whatever other holiday you celebrate. We did. I still haven't figured out how something that takes so long to pull together disappears like poof!

I know Christmas is not about the preparations. Not supposed to be, anyway. It's really about the birth of the Saviour, the most controversial person to ever walk the face of the earth. A birth that changed the course of life forever. And I'm glad to be able to celebrate it in freedom.

But we (people, not me. Not just me, anyway) have made it so much more. I'm still itching from the hair shirt I've worn as punishment for not getting all my baking done. Made the shortbread. Made the Christmas sugar cookies. Made 2 pies. Made the brandy balls. (Boy, did they disappear fast.) Biscotti - not yet. Gingerbread men - nope. But this weekend, I'll get back to it. And the shopping. Ugh. I do not like to shop early. That's no fun! It's not Christmas if I don't get to race for a parking space, is it? (And it's a good thing the last battle was in the parking lot of the Christian bookstore, that's all I have to say for that one.)

The wrapping. Now, I love to wrap at Christmas. So I save it all up for one night, and I wrap. And wrap. And listen to Christmas music. And drink coffee. And wrap. I love to wrap. And it ends up like this.

And looking for stocking stuffers. Yeah, I could do that all year so I wouldn't have to worry about it at Christmas, but, um, I forget about things if I buy them too early. And if I remember them, I can't remember where I put them. Yup. I'm a total scatter brain. (I drove part way to work one day with my purse on the back bumper of my car. Some yard crew guys in the next lane caught my attention and motioned to the back of the car. Purse was still there when I pulled over. I have no idea. When my kids were babies I had a fear of leaving them on the trunk in their car seats. I'd turn around and check the backseat several times just make sure they were there. And I did actually lock my daughter in the car when she was about 2 years old. Unfortunately, she was strapped in her car seat in the middle of the back seat, so she couldn't unlock the door. I got help from a neighbor who was a poilce officer, though, so she was safe and out in no time.)

So back to Christmas. I love Christmas. I'm going to miss the decorations. I loved our tree, especially at night.

Anyway, I decided that today would be the official kickoff for my first blog. I really have no idea what I'm doing. I'd LUV to have something beautiful and hilarious and inspiring and funny and witty and funny. But what I think I'll do is just, whatever comes to mind.

This is supposed to be about knitting. This is a hat I finished Christmas day for a great-nephew of my husband's.

And some of it will be. About knitting, that is. The problem with that is that I'm a reeeealy slow knitter, so day after day of a wee bit of progress would be - not funny or beautiful or inspiring. Unless it inspired you to get off your dead tookus and get knitting. So I'll share some knitting, and maybe beg for sympathy as I ponder my obvious shortcomings as a human and a parent, as far as my 16-yr old daughter is concerned. And I'll try to improve my photography with my new little camera as I dream of that Nikon D80 that's not mine. Yet.

Oh, and any bloggint tips are more than welcome, 'cause this blogging thing is a little harder than I thought it was going to be. Or maybe it's just me.