Oh dangit Rubber Duckie!

So it's been over a month and nothing in the house has caved in, turned to dust or become infected with termites! Hurrah! Seriously, I was so happy about this find, I was waiting for something to be WRONG. Whew. Yay for being unfoundedly paranoid! Ok that just came out all wrong but you get the idea.

We've mostly settled in now. There are a few gaps where we didn't have appropriate things to place. Example: we've never needed a door mat or boot rack before because the slush and snow of outside always came off in the hallway to the apartment. So now we have a foyer that needs a coat rack, book rack and I've just got the spiffiest cranberry red door mat for the winter. I also splurged on Christmas garland this year, to decorate the foyer. It's the good stuff, so it will have to be carefully packaged up in January, but I do think it looks quite grand. I'm not going overboard on decorations for Christmas this year - shocking I know. But they can be so expensive if you try to do a whole house in one season. So the garland is bought, we have a nice red berry wreath from last year and I'm on the look out for a good quality advent calendar. I don't anticipate finding one for this year but I'm hunting for it all the same. I like the ones made out of wood, with little doors to cubicles. Alas, they are all discontinued or quite costly. Ah well, the hunt continues.

We plan to get our tree tomorrow. This may sound early to some but it's completely legal (after US Thanksgiving afterall!) and I travel home in mid December so I will only get half of a December with the tree. I'm hoping that Aiden will be able to help this year. His first Christmas involved trying to eat the ornaments (no kidding - got photo proof of it) and the second involved throwing the ornaments at the tree. I'm really hoping he could have some fun putting the ornaments on the tree this year. Oh dear, just remembered his antics of ripping the bead garland off of the tree last year. It looked nekkid from the waist down. Ah well, we'll see. All stories I get to tell his children later in life.

So let's see. Right now I'm gearing up the baking and winding down the knitting. I have 1.25 knitted gifts to go and my Christmas knitting is done!....... and as usual I will find more things to knit for people. Such is the Christmas Season. But I'm ok with that. I can't list what I'm working on cause some of those people might actually read this blog! (Vain of me to presume so but I'd hate to risk spoiling the surprise this soon.)

Enough for now, I think I hear the small monster in the other room, waking from his nap.

Before I get bombarded with the hate mail with the flashing capitalist stink bombs, let me explain.
I love Christmas. No! Wait! Stop!

Okay, let me get the paper towels to clean this up.

You cannot make Christmas a capitalist venture to me. You just can't. I know factually that it IS a capitalist time of year for many people, but not to me. How can I make such a claim? Well, for starters I try and make as many gifts as possible. I knit, bake, paint and quilt. And I work on it all year round. Yes, I actually DO plan my Christmas list in the bleak evenings of February. When tax time is looming and there's nothing to cheer you through the late winter slush or the post New Year pounds on your hips - I settle down at my desk and plan for next Christmas. Am I nuts? Well - yeah! But that was established in a previous post long ago.

The fact is, it's easier on your nerves and your wallet if you try and take care of one Christmas gift per paycheck, starting somewhere in the spring. Think about it. How much do you spend on cards, wrapping, gifts, postage, etc? Now I won't make the audacious claim of being second cousin to Mrs. Claus and have this whole thing perfected. I do have the occasional last minute gift or the gift that I couldn't knit in time. I'm not trying to convert anyone, just saying that I also am subject to the malls the traffic - but it doesn't dim my Christmas spirit.

Christmas is in the cascade of lights over a city at night.
It's the scent of cinnamon from a kitchen.
It's too many cookies and not enough places to store them.
It's a mug of hot chocolate while listening to Frank Sinatra croon carols.
It's the smell of a Christmas tree greeting you after work.
It's the way some small percentage of people, stop and actually TRY to find what Christmas means to them. And that's pretty damn important.
The gifts are just extra.

And before I get a second wave of hate mail with the "Reason for the Season" stamped all over it, please remember that this blog is my personal opinion and I'm entitled to it. If you don't like what I say - please move along to someone else's opinion. I have friends from many walks of life and not all of them celebrate Christmas. Bah humbug? Of course not! I send them Yule, Chanukah or whatever gifts. The point of this time of year to me is that we appreciate the people in our lives. Whether you light a menorah, leave out honey for fairies, sing hymns at service or just roll over and go back to sleep and thank the government for the day off of work; it's all the same.

I think I've gotten to the point where I'm verbally circling myself. You either get what I'm trying to say or you're shaking your head at the screen and wondering how much coffee I've had.

Here's my statement and I'm sticking to it:
I love Christmas.
I listen to carols all year round and
I'd live at Santa's workshop and be totally thrilled with it.

Not that anyone really reads my blog but WE'RE MOVING!

We've found a reasonably priced house that is just big enough for our small family and we take possession of it on Thursday - the first. My husband (who I must give full credit for this find) has been bouncing around like a toddler on birthday cake. Thankfully he has focused this energy into the packing - cause if there's one thing I hate doing, it's moving. Sweet lord of the u-haul I hate moving. Being a small person myself, I don't get asked to help with moving a lot. You're not going to look at my 5 foot 1 frame and figure - yeah, she can handle the couch on her own.

But it does mean that the apartment is in a total state of disarray which totally grates my nerves. There are boxes, stacks of things to be packed and toys in a glorious cacophony of mayhem, just strewn about with some measure of pattern. Let's not even go into the laundry. That's another brand of mayhem all of its own.

That's what is occupying our lives at the moment. The next 2.5 weeks will be a steady stream of boxes over to the new house, culminating in a mid-month furniture "yank" and the last two weeks will be spent cleaning up the apartment here. I anticipate us to actually be living in the new house sometime around the 10th.

In the meantime, I would like to share with you a comment from my mother...

"So have you read anything good lately? Oh wait, you knit. You don't read do you?"
"Mother! You make it sound like I can only do one or the other. Some nights I knit, some nights I read. I just read things that are probably not to your taste. And no... not vampires."

50 points if you know where that's from.

You can feel fall coming. It's not truly here in full force. No no. I always somehow imagine the seasons unfurling like a blanket of fog, right at the beginning. Fall is gently padding its way into our world, so silently that we won't know it until one day, we go outside and every hair on our exposed body is forced into "RETAIN HEAT" mode and our toes in our open-toed sandals are screaming at our brain cells, demanding to be recompensed for their torture.

So be it.
I love fall.

And for those of you sitting back and wondering what on earth I'm referring to... it's not Ancient Chinese Mythology, it's a female monthly ordeal. 'Nuff said.

So Friday evening I find myself standing in Bath and Body works at the mall. This was not unplanned and in fact, was my own suggestion. But my frustration with all things scented begins to climb as I go from bottle to bottle in the store, sniffing to try and find the right scent. I'm looking for a body butter/lotion/cream/something to keep my lizard skin from drying out in the coming fall months and in the a/c from the office. The thing is that I'm not a super flowery type of girl. I want something a little fresh, a little exotic and something that doesn't make me think of hearts, doe-eyed kittens and daisies. Alas, Katy has this scent stuff well in hand. She knows what she wants and within minutes has her prizes in her hand. Well there I go, shuffling from shelf to shelf, hoping that I had judged that scent too harshly and maybe I should smell it again, and no, it just wasn't right to begin with. This is further compounded with the staff reminding us at every turn that over half of the store stock is on sale right now. So not to buy anything would be a crime against humanity.

Finally, I find it. Actually I find THEM. They have a Moroccan line that is scented with figs, tree oils and woods. It's knee-trembling bliss in my opinion. (I wanted the exfoliant with sandalwood as well but the lotion was my priority.) My bubble is popped when I'm told that these items are NOT included in the store sale. Buggered be all, I say. I'm getting them anyways (I look at the prices)... but only one. Which one? Narrowed down to two bottles I was sniffing back and forth for an absurdly long time until I had made a hesitant decision and Katy ushered me to the check out "before you change your mind!"

But oh, what bliss. I put it on while in the car and it smelled like a spice den without also smelling like a cuisine. So you can guess what my happy thought has been all weekend. If by chance my hands HAPPEN to rub together, I run back to the bottle for more lotion. It's like your first perfume, you forget that after a while, you can't smell it but everyone for a 10 mile radius can. I don't care. I reapply for the betterment of my skin!

Katy and I are the same size. Petite and curvy, so we lament in chorus together how things just don't fit us properly, we spend extra money to get pants hemmed and of course there is a vendetta against short people. There just is.

Saturday I'm feeling pretty good, despite the fact that it's Tray's sleep in day so Aiden is my responsibility in the morning. It's ok. I'm good with it. Time passes quickly and before you know it, he's napping and I'm taking some quiet time to go to the farmer's market and the food store. I splurge and still come in on budget. (Budgeting at the food store is very important to me. It's an OCD thing. Forget about it.) So I'm there standing in line and feeling like all is pretty ok in the world, when the man ahead of me in line is voicing his opinion about recycling (negatively) and is chosing instead to buy the plastic bag because he observes that no one gives a damn. The cashier, a budding recycler, tries to persuade him otherwise and reminds him of his children and grandchildren. This is all shrugged off with mumbles and whatevers. With very little thought and on a complete whim, I whip out one of my reusable bags and presents it to the cashier to fill with the man's groceries. He turns to look at me as if I have 3 heads. I put on the "I promise I'm not trying to kill you" face and say "No really. Take it. I have more in the car. I would rather you use this one." He protests a little more and I continue to persist. He eventually gives in and mumbles "I'll do my best to reuse it." The wearied cashier looks at me "we have to try and convert them somehow." I shrug and continue with my own groceries. All is still well with the world and one more scrooge has a reusable bag that he has no excuse not to use because he didn't pay a dime for it. Feels pretty good. As I drive home, the sky opens and torrents of rain come pouring down. I pull only the sunflowers and my purse out of the car to take in and by the time I'm inside I've got "soaked" written all over me. And all is still right with the world.

The thunderstorm passes and with it some of the oppressive heat.
The wee boy is taken to the pool to try out his new floaties/arm bands. I know there are a lot of people out there who are against these things but I grew up with them and I don't intend to leave my son in a pool with nothing but floaties to keep him upright, thank you.
HE LOVES THEM. When the concept of freedom in the pool dawned over his wee mind his face lit up like a Christmas tree. We dutifully did video footage for the rest of the family and came back in for homemade hot chocolate with extra cocoa and cream.
Seriously - how could that be bad?

Ooooh yeah, Gary's vampire from Dracula! (fan self. Needs a moment....... and I'm done.)

I know it's been a while since my last posting. I'm not apologizing here because when you stop to think about it, I'm writing an online journal for no one in particular except myself. So if you are reading this and you're waiting for my list of reasons why I haven't posted since last month, please take a number and walk off the cliff to your right.

But the real reason I'm titling this post as Frustration is due to something happening in the knitting world right now. Many people that are friends with me already know of this situation. It's not something happening to me, personally. It's happening to someone whom I admire and respect. There is drama, accusations, childish name calling, religious crusading and a measure of computer geekdom thrown in.

I shake my head and ask - why? Why are people expending so much energy on being a protagonist? If your goal in life is to piss people off - and then to tell the world how good you are at it,- then what does it say about your life?

People should be free to chose their own religion, or to not subscribe to any religion, as they chose. Freedom of religious choice also includes the option of "None".
Because you disagree with someone, does not mean that you have the right to start attacking (and I do mean attacking) everything about their personal life. You have the right to an opinion. You do not have the right to verbally attack them.

And I wish I had the resources to help somehow.
All I have is a blog and my opinion.
Steph - you rock.

Somewhere in all this flurry, there is a path with a purpose.

I admit my flaws and my addictions when I recognize them.

I think I'm addicted to blogs. Not mundane drivel about things completely alien or boring (this usually puts computer programming talk at the cross roads of Glazed Eyes Blvd and Not Hearing Avenue.)

I've been wandering around to a few blogs of people that I know or admire and by golly some of the sarcasm and wit that I see online is sheer editorial genius. Oh to have a teaspoon of such moxey!

So here I am. It's the evening, my chores are done, the wee boy is down in his crib and I have free time. It's kind of frightening!

I don't know what it is. Maybe it's the concept of spring and that I actually DO like fresh air, flowers and sunshine. But I'm feeling rather good about things in general. Yeah, people will always argue about the state of the planet, the corruption of politicians and the random chaos that mankind has ensued upon itself; but in my own little world - life isn't all bad. Yes there will always be people who make more than you do and will be more successful than you even though they have the intellect of a distracted fruit fly. But so what? There have been people like that for centuries. Our lives are so impermanent and fleeting and those successful people are just as vulnerable. It's the small things. The oh so small things. And I know I'm sounding like a fortune cookie here and some of you are rolling your eyes at this plate of Trite a la Mode but you know what? That's ok! So I'm being a bit sentimental and mellow. It's probably the hormones, the phase of the moon or the amount of chocolate I had today. My point is that for all that we, as the human race, bitch and complain about the state of things and especially what THINGS you have, - we're all so impermanent that the THINGS don't matter. It's an epiphany, as a friend of mine used to say. A clear understanding of something that is so obvious you never saw it staring you in the face.

I'm so mellow right now there are probably a few people in Savannah wondering what kind of hash cookies I've been eating.

That means "Easter" if you're under age 10.

This year was Aiden's first official Easter Egg Hunt. Grant you there were no "unofficial" Easter Egg hunts last year, he was simply too small and single minded to care. My parents had sent an Easter Basket with the appropriate luminous yellow bunny and accompanying fixtures in all kinds of crazy colors. I presented the package to Aiden and goaded him gently to tear into the wrappings and get to the toy. (Like any self respecting parent would!) He came forward, patted it a few times, ripped the bow off and then toddled away - sublimely content in the prize still in his hand.

That was last year.
This year we went to a family gathering in Caledonia to meet up with other generations that all culminated in about 3 kids and 1 dog eligible for the egg hunt. The initial instructions for Aiden somehow became "grab what you want and put it in the basket Dad is holding" at which point he started collecting the bubble bottles (those jars of soap and bubble wands) and clunking them industriously into the overly small basket. Each time we took one out or tried to move away from the porch, he would put it back in or travel the extra necessary steps to bring the extra bottle. Truly dedicated.

With Daddy's cargo pants bulging with bubble bottles, we started pointing out the Easter Eggs that were "hidden" and cheered appropriately each time he put one in the basket. Aiden caught on and started to really look. The problem was that Easter Eggs don't grow back in the spots where you first took them. We circled the house twice after the hunt was over (nothing is ever officially over when it comes to an Easter Egg Hunt - not when some of them were real eggs and there is a risk of finding them several days later) and he continued to look in the places that he had been successful in the past. I can't fault the wee guy - at least it shows his thought process.

The really sweet part was how he sat on the grass with his basket in between his legs, and carefully inspected one aqua blue plastic egg. I showed him how to open it (at which point the chocolates all fell out) and how to close it. He spent a good 15 minutes in that very spot, opening the egg, tilting out the chocolates and then repacking them into the egg and resealing it. The way he always kept his little finger and up and the scrutiny he gave the entire process was endearing, if not a little zealous.

What you don’t remember
Is that beer is supposed to be sweet.
That Christmas tastes like souse
On too little sleep
And too much everything else.
That sunshine smells like salt on your skin.
And that the ocean never roars like people claim
But it will also never shut up.

You don’t remember
That the earth has a smell like a girl in heat.
That church bells are also for those not at service.
That the dock sounds like dominoes.
And that the wind will listen
If you have something to tell it.

You don’t remember
That the dead still rejoice
That poinciana looks like a song.
That the stars are watching
but the moon minds her own business.
And that the night can purr.

Until you can’t do anything but remember

So it's the other side of my birthday and y'know what? The world looks pretty much the same as it did pre-birthday. I don't know why people get so hung up on getting a year older. It's not as if you age a full year's worth in the wee hours of the morning of your birthday, so that you wake up with a bumper crop of wrinkles and grey hair. It's a growing process and damnit if I have wrinkles and grey hair - I've earned every last one of them! I age - like everything else. Now if you told me that I would age and NOT die - then I'd be really upset. A terrible way to spend eternity - best friends with a bed pan.

Birthday was full of birthday goodness. There were roses, Starbucks, pressies from afar and in general good mojo flowing all around. I was a happy camper on my birthday. So much so I didn't want it to end, in that 6 year old way. My hubbie is already ahead of me on this. He's designated it my birthday MONTH and has been doing his best to spoil me all month. He's a good boy. I think I'll let him live a little longer.

It's a true spring day. Rainy and drizzly with a promise of afternoon sunshine but no guarantees. What is spring if not inconsistent? Last weekend I had changed out the winter/summer wardrobes. It's the next best thing to shopping because you suddenly find a bunch of clothes that you forgot you even owned - and lo and behold - they fit me! Some I actually have to have taken IN! After having a child I never thought I would be this small again.

And that's all there is for now. It's a lazy day. So what?

Pick an artist, and using ONLY SONG TITLES from only that artist, cleverly (preferably) answer these questions. This is harder than it seems!

ADDITIONAL RULE: You cannot use the same artist I did, or duplicate song titles even if they were performed by another artist.

1. Are you a male or female: Hey Girl
2. Describe yourself: Modern Woman
3. How do you feel about yourself: I Go to Extremes
4. Describe your ex boyfriend/girlfriend: Worst comes to Worst
5. Describe your current boy/girl situation: You're My Home
6. Describe your current location: A Room of Our Own
7. Describe where you want to be: Summer, Highland Falls
8. Your best friend is: State of Grace
9. Your favorite color is: Shades of Grey
10. You know that: The Times They Are A-Changin'
11. What's the weather like: Falling of the Rain
12. If your life was a television show what would it be called: That's Not Her Style
13. What is life to you: Pressure
14. What is the best advice you have to give: You're Only Human
15. If you could change your name what would it be: Rosalinda's Eyes

I know the equinox is a few days off yet but today felt like spring. Literally that feeling of waking up and stretching, cat-like and languid in your bed. The air was cold, the sun was a warm. A delicious paradox that reeked of things germinating in the soil. It was the kind of day when you close your eyes and imagine coils of green curling out of the earth in slow motion. I parked at the far end of parking lots today, without complaint. I walked like a kid with my arms stretched out to catch the breeze and wished dearly that I could have moved my desk outside.

It was that kind of day.

Item made for the Tweaky Lil' Drow is complete and will be put into the mail sometime this month. I would be more specific - but I can't!

I have given her the following clues:

I asked her what brand of cigarette she smokes
I asked if she had heard Dennis Leary's No Cure for Cancer
And this item can be used in private or in public

Anyone got any guesses?

I believe my 20 month old son is a football fan. Since the Superbowl has started, he's taken his bottle and his blanket to the couch, completely reclined, has been rubbing his belly and has stayed there - eyes transfixed on the tv.


Where he gets the sports genes from I don't know.

The first seven (7) people to respond to this post will get something made by me.

This offer does have some restrictions and limitations:

- I make no guarantees that you will like what I make.
- What I create will be just for you.
- It'll be done this year (2009).
- No requests: it could be anything.
- I reserve the right to do something extremely strange.

The catch is that if you don't re-post this offer, the bargain is void!

I suppose it comes with the time of year. For a lot of us we sit back and put on this pretense of being deep, philosophical and enlightening. I say "pretense" because it's my opinion that humankind is obsessed with the day to day materialism that makes up our lives; have the bills been paid? what's for dinner? can I afford that new car? I don't exclude myself from this group. I am, after all, human and to tell the truth, without a lot of these day to day materialistic concerns we would starve, run amok and many infrastructures would falter if not collapse. So these concerns have their place.

But as I was starting to say, it's at this time of the year - that is to say 'the beginning' - that we make those resolutions that we know we'll abandon by March, and we say "This is the year I'll make that trip to the Great Barrier Reef, I'll donate pints of blood every weekend, hand make all birthday gifts, walk the Great Wall of China and take up white water rafting! This is the year I do all of the exciting things that I've been putting off all of my life!"

You know, I'm all for following your dreams. I'm all for going after that goal that you've been too afraid to even attempt. And goodness knows that the media has been telling us to do it for decades now. Go get that hot rod car and paint it whatever color you want - because you deserve it!

Let's take a deep breath.

My Dad has a saying - do whatever makes you happy, as long as it's reasonable. Sound advice. Else half of the women I know would be neck deep in designer footware and eyebrow deep in credit card bills.

What I want to know is - what happened to celebrating and heralding the small moments that come with NO PLANNING and take you by surprise? What's wrong with filling the coming year with moments that stand still in your memory cause they're just that awesome.

For example, last night the moon was the closest it was going to be to the Earth for xyz years. I never pay attention to the numbers. Every few months another body in the heavens will lean in to smile at Earth and the media goes planet-crazy for 48 hours. My husband and I love watching the moon in all of her phases. The fact that she was full and gloriously bright last night was a plus for us. We're at my parents in the Bahamas for a visit. That's when it happened. Last night I was knitting, our son was asleep in his playpen and my parents were watching tv. My husband and I went to the back patio, pulled up enough patio chairs to prop our feet up and we watched the moon. While out there, I finished my second sock and popped both of them on my feet. Brand new socks, coffee, having a real conversation with your spouse and an amazing view of the moon. Now that is something to celebrate.

I wish you all success and health. But I also wish you the quiet moments of magic, that life might whisper.

It's awkward to be packing for a visit to the 'rents. We live in Ontario. It's winter here. Snow, ice, frosty breathe and all the other accessories of winter. So what am I packing? Well I've pulled out my shorts, halter tops and sandals for a start. My folks live in the Caribbean and the coldest it will be there, during our duration, is about 70 degrees - in the middle of the night. Yeah. I'm opening up the storage bin with summer clothes in it. It feels strange. But on the upside, I'd forgotten about the neat summer wardrobe that I have!