Remember the cowl hoodie from a few posts back? Thought the score was three down, zero to go, until my son saw them and put in his order. Happy to do it, they're quick, easy, and low maintenance, crocheted with Red Heart Soft Touch.
Did each one in a different stitch to keep it interesting. Here is the one I made while on vacation in barcode stripes:
The recipient requested hot pink and black stripes. I used our cabin key card for reference. Now that's a souvenir.
Everyone has their rant. Some longer than others. Popular blog rant themes include teachers, spouses, political figures, and family members. I do my best to stay away from too much negativity but, I too, have my favourite rant – customer service.
Long story short: went to buy two chairs at Macy's and asked about the delivery charge.
"$80."
"Forget it," I say, "we have a truck and can pick it up."
"$25."
"What? No, we want to pick it up."
"Yes, that's the pick up fee, we have to get it here from the warehouse."
"How about you sell me the floor model that's already here."
"Can't do that."
So, if you want to buy furniture at Macy's furniture store, there is a charge to buy anything, regardless of pickup or delivery. Seems like the price should be adjusted to include the ability to take it away from the store without paying for the priviledge. It would feel better that way.
So we left Macy's and went to a nearby scratch and dent store and bought the same chairs with a couple of minor dings. We saved over a hundred bucks and it included the ability to take them with us.
End of rant.
All of you, of course are my favourites, for your good wishes for recovery. Eight days later the swelling and bruising is down by a half. The right wrist is the worst in terms of pain, hence the lack of knitting photos, plus the stitches are infected. What are you going to do? The answer to that rhetorical question (remember those from grade 9 English?) is, hopefully stick around for my favourite vacation photos, not necessarily in order.
Favourite vacation photo #1:
The wild chickens of Kauai:
Many theories surround these guys – from escapees during extreme storms to descendants from Captain Cook's time. They greet you on the runway at the airport, follow you into the car rental place and beg popcorn on the beach. I love my birds and chickens and roosters count.
Don't let the chickens hear: they say there's a recipe for them. Place three rocks in a pot, add veggies and dressed chicken. Cook until the rocks are tender, throw out the chicken and enjoy the soup.
Favourite photo #2:
Pearl Harbor – the USS Arizona Memorial:
A sacred and reverent place. Can't describe the feeling.
Favourite photo #3:
The flowers of Hawaii – spectacular, even in a parking lot.
Favourite photo #4
Actually two photos, the Pacific and Atlantic ( you've seen this one before) Oceans, 1250 miles at sea:
Why was expecting them to look totally different?
It takes two and a half days at a relaxing pace to get to 1250 miles at sea, and here, at "the point of no return," two and a half days to get to land. At this point of my life, it's my favourite vacation spot, no matter what the ocean. Does that mean I'm at the point of no return lifewise? I guess we all are.
Not my favourite photo, but a beautiful spot. The scene of the crime:
Taken a minute or two before my fall onto one or two of those lava rocks, which are sharp as broken glass. There is actually a nice little sandy trail between them. Still can't figure out exactly what happened.
A few more to come.
Will be home very soon from our now dubbed "bruise cruise." I had good intentions of posting from our vacation which included my favorite spot, 1250 miles at sea in the middle of nowhere. But then I hit Hawaii. Literally. Hiking in Hana, face, shoulder, hands, wrists, knee and ankles met a bed of lava rock up close and personal. Don't know how that was even physically possible. Luckily little Hana had an ER and a couple of stitches and a good scrubbing later we were back on the famous Road to Hana.
Just keeping up with family tradition. Right Jane, Elena and Ellen? All three of us having made contact with the ground in recent times.
Will catch up soon.
Famous last words of a parent-to-be upon spying in public a droopy diapered shoeless child. I've learned never to say never. I think I even have a picture of my firstborn that fits that description. I'll do her the favour of not scanning and posting it.
There are blog nevers that I have, in fact, done. As in personifying my knitting. "Oh that Marina, she requires too much luggage to be a travel companion." Or using the dog as a model. It happened to be my favourite post: How to tie one on. So, in that vein, given its success in terms of blog popularity, and to prove that my fingers still engage in endeavours of the wooly kind, here is Gracee modeling my middle child's hoody cowl:
Excuse the lighting, she was only going to give me one chance.
Once again, much like my wedding anniversary, I realized quite accidentally that I have missed the day of my blog anniversary. This time it's the 6th. I remember the first time. Ms.Sandy left the first comment. Of the original five blogging commenters, three are sill publishing. I find that encouraging despite the introduction of other time suckers like Ravelry, Facebook and that noisy sounding Twitter.
I've met wonderful people through this blog, online and in person. When you meet a knitting blogger up front and personally, you know immediately it's going to work. Right Sandy, Maureen, Angie, Dorothy, and Nadia? If I've left anyone out, please forgive me. And I'd need a separate posts to list all the wonderful Ravelers that I've met through this blog as well as the hundreds of people who have requested my scarf pattern.
More than following their knitting, I've read as bloggers have babies, miscarry, gain grandchildren, retire, get married, divorced, change jobs, move far away, and even die. And how about those theme posts – Saturday Skies, Eye Candy Fridays, Poetry on February 1st, and the memes? The joy, grieving, the slogging over similar projects, home renovations, watching the kids grow, the stories of those four legged or two winged family members, sharing of creativity, feelings of accomplishment – that's why, six years later, it remains my social media choice. Thanks to all of you.
Coming up on six years of blogging. Lots of life happened during that time – two and a half kids through college, three spousal hospitalizations, many tons of new paving stones and blocks surrounding our house and a total turnover of appliances. They don't make them like they used to, referring to the appliances, not the spouse.
Since the inception of this knitting blog, we've replaced the fridge, dishwasher, washer and dryer, and now, the stove. Granted we've given them a run for their money with three now grown teenagers and 40 or so overseas students. Not to mention Doug, our good friend and boarder for the past two years.Trying to think of a blog name for Doug. Maybe SD (Significant Doug). I'll be writing about SD in the future as he has done his best to turn us into accidental vegetarians. Just so you know, when you're reading about him, SD = Significant Doug.I think that's better than VD – Vegetarian Doug.
Figuring that my major cooking days are behind me, I didn't succumb to my unrealistic dreams of a commercial type cook stove in aqua or British racing car green enamel; one requiring an additional mortgage. Besides we only had room and budget for 30" of range. Pity. So here it is, awaiting installation:
What's with the blue interior? There must have been a manufacturer's sale on cobalt blue porcelain enamel. And does anyone know what might be the difference, in how the stove functions, between the roast and bake settings? Can't find it in the instruction book. One of the stoves I looked at had a chicken nugget setting. Can you imaging cooking enough chicken nuggets to warrant their own setting?
And what is is about a new stove that makes you want to cook turkey?
That's my Gracee, she seems to love people and hate dogs. I blame it on a poor start in life, having been rescued, so to speak, when she was six months old. Our Gracee Mae never received early doggy socialization skills. No matter how hard we tried, her rough beginnings defeated our efforts.
During her first months with us, she paid regular visits to a doggie daycare in hopes of developing her social skills. This facility had two large rooms, the big dog room and the small dog room. George, a gigundous Mastiff, who belonged to one of my co-workers, was placed in the small dog room. Poor Georgie, only weeks old while in his brief small dog phase, was attacked by a larger dog at the park, leaving him a 160 pound chicken into his adult years. The staff respected his differences and permitted him to sit all day by the window, waiting for his mistress, shaking amongst the shihtzus and chihuahuas. Our Gracee, on the other hand, a 22 pound Scottswoman with a large personality, was placed in the big dog room. Probably not a good idea, but these were the experts. She grew up thinking she was a Great Dane in a Scottie body.
We loved her just the same, but we were cautious. On walks, when approached by other dogs, we'd politely inform the accompanying owner that she is "a does not get along well with others" creature. She has never hurt another dog, but her idea of four legged friendship involves snapping the air, teeth audibly clacking. When approached by humans, however, she turns to whimpering mush "Oh pet me, pet me," her wagging tail begs. Two legs = good. Four legs = watch out.
Eventually Amazin' Grace exhibited some semblance of obedience. While in our yard she was allowed to roam free until a growl indicated an approaching unleashed dog. She could sense them from half a block away, enough time to sternly warn her to stay. It worked, sort of, until Saturday night. Poor Ms. Grace, defied her orders of our friend who was watching her and antagonized an unleashed dog twice her size. She lost the fight.
Dog bites are nasty injuries and she has a matched set, one on each side. It causes difficulty laying down, so she nods off sleepily while sitting and jerks awake when she rolls onto her side in exhaustion. Poor girl, we think in sympathy. I hear the other dog's owner had apologized, but the truth is she brought it on herself.
Love that title, which it the slogan for Fire Island, NY. Hadn't been on the Island since grade school maybe, but not much has changed. No cars allowed, 8 mph speed limit for bikes. We stayed in Lonelyville, where the streets are boardwalks:
The view from the rooftop deck of the house where we stayed:
We walked to the lighthouse:
The island's essential services:
More Fire Island later. I needed some ".calm" when I accidentally pulled the needles out of my project, 80% done:
I did the same thing two East Coast trips ago, almost to the day. You think I would've learned.
My date with blogland, that is. Apologies for my tardiness.
Judging from the upswing in feedback, either more of you have returned from holidays or eating OCD struck a chord. I have more:
When I eat cherries, I inspect the bowl for a good one and save that one for last. In this house we call it ending on a good cherry. This habit has extended to other areas of life, going down a water slide or a ski run, for example. Not that I've been on skis since my ACL graft, give or take 10 years. I quit after a good run so I can end on a good cherry, so to speak.
This would be a knitting blog and that's the perfect activity for obsessively compulsive habits. I can think of a few. Ending after a complete row. Tough when you have 1000 stitches or so, as in a ruffled shawl. Weaving in ends as you go… Others?
Life's a Stitch 