Two Black Sheep

The Song Remains The Same

Busy, busy, busy . . . pretty much sums it up. But, there's always time for Martha. I wasn't going to go this year since the parent who set it all up in the first place has a student in the program again was chaperoning, I kind of lost my space on the trip, which was fine . . . until he got sick and canceled this afternoon . . . for tomorrow's trip. So, it's off to NYC for a Martha taping! The teacher who runs the trip queried when he called, "You have your knitting ready?" Luckily I remembered that I had students in the room before I answered, "Does a bear shit in the woods?"

Clear The Area

Being 40 is kind of stressful (thanks for all the birthday wishes):

• on-line course that is requiring beau coup amounts of time; 
• three classes of writing quizzes to grade;
• two presentations at work in one day that required me to summarize ten days' worth of training into two hours;
• children home from college for the weekend with pick-me-up shopping to be done;
• one of whom has a fever and now I am paranoid; and
• miles of garter left to go before I sleep (and many apologies to Mr. Frost for that bastardization). 

Ava

(If You're Wondering If I Want You To) I Want You To

Let's see . . . since our last post, the following things have occurred:

1. I attended my first ever Stitch and Pitch along with several of the ladies I knit with on Tuesday evenings. We were going to take two cars but wound up only needing one . . . best thing ever to happen. It truly helps when your driver, the fabulous husband of one of the ladies in question who always calls to give us our estimated departure time on Tuesday evenings, is a former New York City cab driver. Enter car, sit down, laugh a lot, arrive at Citi Field without causing an accident. There were about 200 or so knitters in left field in the promenade (which sounds glamorous as all get out until you realize that it is a nice way of saying "nose bleed" section) all knitting away, which is probably what the Mets were doing, too. There is no other way of excusing the 10 run lead that the Braves had at the bottom of the 3rd. I knit on my EZ moccasins from The Knitter's Almanac; they might be one of the few patterns by EZ that I just don't get . . . truly not liking this pattern, but at least the girls will have a comfy pair of socks when I am done. Oh, and if you ever want free stuff, make sure you have Maryann with you . . . and by free stuff I am talking about books from Nikki Epstein that Nikki autographs to you right before she hands them to over (thanks for the Harding book, my Italian guru).

2. Owing to my crap skills of cabling and chatting at the same time, I crossed a cable the wrong way three times - it looks very, very drunken - on my latest project, so I had to drop down 18 rows and knit up the correct cable. I sure as hell was not going to rip out 18 rows just to fix four effing stitches. Then, to add insult to injury, the last cable that I knit that night after I actually got to knit was wrong. Maybe it's old age setting in.

3. Awesome segue . . . the Flyer turned 40 amid suffering from the flu. Sure it wasn't the flu, but it sucked ass nonetheless especially since the girls were home for the weekend. I debated whether I should get him a card that lamented what a pain it was getting older with the health issues or one that explained that he was just a few years away from making crap up . . . and chose the last one. Luckily he is on the mend, but between the two of us, we've been sickish since August 14.

4. Beth Brown Reinsel visited Mountain Knits and Pearls again for another workshop. This time, she demonstrated different gansey techniques with a small sample sweater. And, shockingly enough, I actually finished this one. Granted, it will never grace a person, bear, or Barbie, but I know of a really nice bottle of wine that has been longing for a hand-knit merino sweater.

5. Probably the best part of the blog silence, Lola had business in New York City earlier last week, so I hopped on a train (missing my first train by 30 seconds - I counted!) to visit with my sister for a day and a half. I treated her to her first Indian meal, which was excellent by the way, after which we both needed the ten block hike back to the hotel. The following day, I successfully got us to six different shops from the Midtown to the Upper East side to Soho and back again with only one wrong turn . . . and even that wasn't really a wrong turn since I simply didn't read the address on my print out correctly. Even Lola will admit that she was subtly impressed. Hits: Amma for dinner, School Products for the birthday yarn and yak, Knitty City just because. Misses: 'wichcraft for not living up to the hype, the R train for not having its schedule labeled better, and Purl for not having anything that piqued my interest (but I'll let that slide this one time). 

6. And finally, we bought a new mattress. We actually bought the box springs as well, but they wouldn't fit up the stairs . . . just another charming example of why living in a house that was built almost 100 years ago keeps you on your toes.

That's it . . . nothing major, nothing really new, nothing exciting . . . just life. I have several "obligation" knits that I have to get done before I can tackle anything fun and exciting. But all in all, fall is looking to be a pretty interesting season.

Ava

New Round

School was back in full swing yesterday for me and for the girls. Granted, I was done with my day by the time that Veronica began her classes, but I'm pretty sure that we survived the first day (and there seems to be a ton of "first day" posts on Facebook). It was an interesting day for me at school because we have two new teachers on our team, I have a new room mate (who is one of the new teachers), one of my best friends is in a different building, and the girls are off on their own new adventure. All of that would seem to cause some type of commotion, but the day was pretty much "hitch" free. Sure, there were some minor issues but nothing that can't be solved relatively easily. By the time I got home from school yesterday, I was so knackered that the 20-minute "power nap" - that means the nap I intended to take was rudely interrupted by my neighbors shooting paint guns and I work up - was greatly needed. There must have been twenty or thirty families waiting at various bus stops to pick up their elementary kids . . . odd that I won't have that "luxury" anymore.

Dropping the girls off at school was technically easy as Temple appears to have this down to a science, but emotionally it was challenging. Some how we fit everything into the car (still unsure how that happened other than to say that I must have raised exceptional packers) and were down to Philly by 8:30 AM, unloaded by 8:50 AM, and pretty much unpacked by 10:30 AM. After a trip to Walmart, Super Fresh, and Best Buy, the Flyer and I were ready to head home . . . by ourselves. I did fine until I made it to the parking lot and then there was a lot of looking up to avert the tears and deep exhalations. Tears? Of course . . . but not as many as I had planned. Maybe it was good that I had planned for the worst because it didn't happen. I think Lola put it best: this was our job - getting the girls to this point in their lives - and we did our job. We aren't going to retire, but our job description has changed dramatically. We can't be there 24/7 to make sure that things are getting done properly, but we can hope. We can't tell the girls what they ought to do, but we can dream. Hopes and dreams . . . that's all we have.

Knitting? Not a lot getting done, but I did finish a Christmas stocking the other day . . . I just have to take photos. My photos are really getting me down lately. I just can't seem to get "the" photo that I need. Our local vocational school offers adult education classes, one of which is in photography with SLRs . . . thinking I might need to sign up for a class.

Ava

Merry-Go-Round

I thought I'd share a couple of fun pictures from our State Fair trip.  The butter sculpture picture didn't turn out well enough to share.  Damn.

Livin' Things

I was going to let Lola do a recap of her Los Angeles odyssey - and truly, if you remember your high school epic poem studies, it really was an odyssey in the most basic sense of the word - but something tells me that I should wish her a happy birthday instead. So, Happy Birthday, Lola!

Things you should know about Lola and me when we were growing up:

• I didn't really like her . . . resent is too strong of a word, but I liked being an only child;
• our mom made me baby-sit and didn't pay me since it was family;
• any kind of bizarre food combo, I made and Lola (and the others) had to eat it;
• some of my favorite photos of her involve costumes of one type or the other; and
• occasionally the games that we played involved lots of running so that she (and the others) would tire out faster (see number two).

Lola and Tuck at the girls' grad party . . . and I love this photo!

Things you should know about Lola as an adult:

• it's rare that a day goes by when I don't talk to her, and I don't pick up other calls when I am talking to her (fine . . . sometimes if the girls are calling I will);
• she has one of the best grasps on how to parent without smothering and has two awesome little boys to show for it;
• she's the one who makes the more "bizarre" foods now, but they all turn out really good;
• some of my favorite photos of her involve her eyes being closed; and
• I blame her for the latest Wii craze . . . but in a good way!

So, enjoy your day, Lola! Happy Birthday - sit on your ass all damn day . . . after your weekend, you deserve nothing less! And with all that hype, you really need to pull a post together.

A

PS - Before you settle into the couch, mail me that shawl . . . I'll block it in the newly cleaned attic, which is where I am headed (wish me luck!).

S. A. D. Light

I hate today. That post pretty much summed up why. But I also hate it for another reason . . . the way other people make me feel. I'll never know what my parents went through in 1973. Hell, it still shocks and amazes me that they stayed together after Clark's death. But I dread when the day creeps up and the ringing of the phone with their number on caller-ID. I know what's coming and I hate it.

If I bring it up, I make my mom cry. She says something about what a cute baby he was, I say something about surrounding him with toys, but really we both know what isn't said: he's not here and we both wish he was. If I don't bring it up, as I chose to this morning, she rarely says anything. That ends well until the phone rings and it's my dad. His conversation begins equally light (this morning's was about all the snow days that we've had) but then he asks if I remember what today is . . . and all at once the pain and the tears that I have been trying so hard to ram in the back of my brain, throat, gut, wherever it is that I have hidden them, come exploding to the surface. Of course I remember what today is. I obsess over how I can manage the pain this year beginning around Christmas, especially if we have been home since Mom will have been thinking about it too. But nothing helps. Every year, I think I am one step closer to not crying, not feeling guilty for having a happy life, not exploding in anger, not sobbing at the sappy commercials, not dealing with it like a lunatic.

Yet here I sit, crying again, leaving slightly panic stricken voicemail messages for Lola, accepting the Flyer's hugs, and reverting to my three-year-old self. At least I don't have to work (I never go into work on the 28th . . . close friends know why, some understand, some think it is irrational) but there is a driveway to be shoveled, grades to update, knitting to complete . . . just with one less sibling to share it. And you know . . . I'll deal with it the same way I always have, shoving the tears a little further back, cramming the pain a little deeper, until next year when they explode to the surface and we're back to square one.

Ava

PS - Thank you for all the comments about the sweater debacle. I'll post photos of it later today and the complete explanation . . . I just have to bribe a daughter to model it for me.

Geraldine

Kind of, sort of settled from the trip home. I think that I could have used another two days (maybe to decompress in Columbus before heading to the Flyer's parents) but all in all, it was a great trip home . . . except for the freezing rain in the beginning. That, I could have done without.

Since the girls are older, it is nice to be around little ones who still believe in Santa Claus. Gus and the Other Sister's kids were so sweet opening up their presents. Most of the presents were perfect (especially the free ones from the Flyer - light sabers for all and a bag of Star Wars toys to boot), but the spoon that Tuck got from our mom was a little odd (she forgot to wrap it with the bowls she bought him) as was my craptacular gift of a piece of cardboard for Betty. One of the bags I ordered never made it to Mom's house, so I wrapped up some cardboard for her;  I'm still waiting to see what response I get from the company. My own personal favorite remains the calendar that Mom makes for us every year. Yes, the begging and ever-more-strident demands for pictures gets to be a bit much, but the calendar is worth it in the end. The "big" surprise was the supposed eulogy that our dad prepared for himself; apparently he thought we wouldn't come downstairs to watch a Christmas movie that Mom made so he decided to tell us he made his own obituary. Only in our family would this be considered A) appropriate and B) not macabre. Lola put up a good fight but eventually we watched the video . . . I'll admit to a little bit of tears especially during the photos with Clark and when the girls were little (been doing that a lot lately).

Other than the usual slight arguments, nothing was out of hand. Sure, the Bro was excused from a lot and sequestered himself from the rest of the family (minus his wife) and there seemed to be a few miscues during the Gift Exchange (honestly, a summer sausage never will be an appropriate item in the family gift exchange . . . ever . . . neither will a box of mustard and crackers) but all in all, it was a very laid back trip to Mom and Dad's.

The Flyer was pleased as punch since he finally got his Coleman's Fish Market sandwich. The look of disappointment in his eyes last summer when he realized that they were closed was too much - the girls and I may have laughed a bit - so we knew that a trip was happening this Christmas. An hour later, and an unknown quantity of fried fish in our stomachs, we took a quick trip to the Highlands in search of the third book in the Twilight series for Veronica. Somehow, she managed to read all four during the trip and get her sister and her mother hooked into reading them. The thing is . . . they're not very interesting but, as Betty puts it, compelling. You kind of want to know what happens to Bella for some strange unknown reason even when you want to slap the twit across the face and tell her that her "boyfriend" is an ass. Nothing happens in the first book until you are about 3/4s of the way through. When the Flyer asked what the books were about, I told him, "Basically, he likes her because she smells good," to which the girls cackled with delight. As a teacher, I wonder if Stephanie Meyer's English teacher ever gave her a list of "Other Ways You Can Say 'Said'" or that strong verbs do so much more for the action as opposed to all the flowery crap that she layers on. Anyway, don't spoil the endings as I am still on the second one.

I'm really ticked that I didn't get an photos of the Dickens Village in the Flyer's hometown since they creeped me out in a very un-Christmas like way. Trust me, I've seen enough sci-fi thanks to my husband in which mannequins come to life only to cause seriously bodily harm. You'll have to do with the Flickr link or look it up yourself.

So, to read or to knit . . . that is the question burning in my mind. The February Lady Sweater is reaching the end (four more inches to knit and the sleeves) but Edward just left Bella . . . damn you, questionable literature . . . you've always been my weakness. Can this mean that Flowers In the Attic will stage a come back? On second thought, I'm more likely to go live amongst the Dickens Village people.

Champagne is a chilling . . . awaiting 2009!
Ava

PS - The Buckeyes turned out the second and a half time I tried to make them . . . kind of shorted them on the powdered sugar. Veronica and I didn't think we needed to Pam our hands so I added more - and they were perfect!

Single Ladies (Put A Ring On It)

Ah . . . the season of the meme . . . makes the holidays festive. Bev tagged us a few days ago for "Six Random Things." Technically, she tagged "a" Blacksheep, so I could have put it all on Lola or vice versa, but we share our randomness, so here goes. The videos are courtesy of the Flyer . . . thanks for finding them, baby.

From Lola:

I could watch Cops all day.  Before the kids were born, I almost did.  During one of the holiday marathons, I made it until about 9 p.m.  SK came in and begged me to turn it off.  If someone would create a Cops/America's Funniest Video channel, I'd be the happiest person on earth.

I hate other people's jewelry.  Especially metal.  While cleaning the basement, SK found an old high school necklace.  He wanted me to look at it.  I was afraid he was going to make me touch it, so I ran to the corner.  This seemed to surprise him and make him very happy.  So I grabbed one of his toys and swore I'd throw it.  I really would have.  Hate the stuff!!  So gross.

I think that drag queens have the best job in the world.  I love any power ballad & singer with a big voice.  Drag queens don't have to know how to sing but get to have all the fun.  Beating of the chest.  Big hair.  Sequins.  Someday, I'll dress up like a man dressing up like a woman & belt out Celine, Mariah, Beyonce, Dolly, Whitney, Britney, Christina.

From Ava:

I pick at hangnails obsessively. Do I know that they don't mesh well with knitting? Check. Do I ruin shirts with bloody polka dots. Check. Do I care? Not really . . . I just invest heavily in Liquid Band-aid and tons of Stain Stick. Don't even suggest acrylic nails . . . tried and picked them off.

I think Judge Judy is some of the finest television out there. Morality, arbitration, comedy . . . all there. My girls HATE it with a passion and will beg me not to watch it since she is "a crabby old lady who doesn't need to shout at people." Me? Love her to death!

I very rarely, if ever, wear a coat in the winter. It has to be truly bone-chillingly cold for me to wear one to work, or I have to shoveling the snow (yup, live in the mountains and don't own a snow-blower). Usually, a hat, scarf, or glove will suffice. If Lola hate other people's jewelry, I detest coats.

On knitting news, I began Veronica's Christmas socks and quickly pulled them off the needles. Two evenings and 12 rows to show for it, a chart riddled with mistakes (even the errata chart had mistakes), and a pattern that wasn't showing up well in the yarn . . . hello Monkey Socks. Already, I'm further along in the new pattern than I was with the old.

Ava

PS - Here are the rules for the meme: Post the rules on your blog. Write six random things about yourself. Tag six people at the end of your post and link to them. Let each person know they’ve been tagged and leave a comment on their blog. And we're tagging (and in no order): Gonzomama, Jackie, Susan (because I want to make sure she's alive), Reesie, Shannon, and Tricia (but since she blogless, she'll have to post them in our comments . . . or get a blog).

Keeps Gettin' Better

Used to be that this blog was a two person thing . . . and apparently I haven't been pulling my own weight (which is substantial, thank you very much). If I had, I might not have had that huge intake of breath with the new Typepad interface. Most likely I will spend a huge amount of time playing around over the holidays when I should be knitting on the February sweater.

For the sake of time and sanity, I've been spending the majority of the past week or so grading papers and gathering reports in anticipation of Parent/Teacher Conferences, which occur on Tuesday and Wednesday of this week (talk about a wonderful way to start your Thanksgiving break). Teaching 7th grade is no small feat nor is parenting a 7th grader. Most of the conferences are easy-peasy, but there are the ones that either break your heart or leaving you shaking your head in disbelief. One mom used to call me once a week just to check on her son and for me to reassure her that he was normal. To all parents with pre-teens and teens: there is light at the end of the tunnel and it usually isn't a train. You and your kids come out the other side pretty much alright in most cases. It's the case that you don't see coming that usually cuts to the quick.

Thursday evening I treated myself to Gordon Ramsey's latest cookbook for a bit of a cheer-up. See, I have a little crush on Chef Ramsey. Nothing major, but just one morning, I'd love to wake up and see him carrying a tray of breakfast treats. I told the Flyer this once and he just shook his head. Truly, breakfast and that's it . . . we go our separate ways. I've flicked through the pages and ogled at Gordo happily cooking and slicing and crushing ingredients that I'll never find even at the nicest Wegmans. However, the sticky lemon chicken looks delightful as does the Indian inspired shrimp.

Surely you've seen the cutest mug ever at Starbucks . . . if not, go grab one. The Flyer just looked at me askew when I started telling him that it was a left-leaning four-stitch cable with a purl column and two knit stitches on each side. Yup, the super-geek in me never takes a break. The Holiday Blend "technically" doesn't come out until "red" Friday,  but one of our shops had it out last Friday. The other one? Well, the rather surly barrista was kind of disgusted when I wouldn't take her word for it that it wasn't available.

Off to grade . . . and knit . . . and prepare for Tuesday,
Ava

PS - Umm, another time sucker? Facebook . . . thanks, Lola. And with half our family on it, just another reason why Mom can't know about this.