Knitting in the Shadows

What is in a name?

In almost everyone's life, sooner or later, there comes a time when you are called upon to name something or someone.  Sometimes it's easy.  Sometimes it's not.

Bookworm went through a phase once where she named everything.  Sure, every kid names his or her stuffed toys, but she named instruments (not that uncommon), note books, iPods, pencils, .... everything.  (She did not, alas, offer up a name for the house.  I'm fond of named houses.... but that's not the point here.)  Naming came easily to her.  I envy her so.

Naming is not my forte.  When I named my daughters, I first spent hours (I could have earned a degree had I spent that time differently, I'm sure) poring over name books -- tasting them, feeling them roll across my tongue, chasing down their origins and meanings, putting them in combinations -- testing the combinations for sound and mood and definitions....  And in the end, I narrowed the names down to several, and waited for my daughters to "tell" me what their names were.

When new cats come into the house, I look at them, and contemplate the names that resonate with their appearances, but generally wait until their personality is clear before naming them.  I also listen to the cats.  They too "tell" me what their names are.  With the more recently adopted cats, I first listened to see if they were at home with the names they came with -- they were, and so we did not re-name them.

I am now faced with a new naming challenge.  

When I first started massage school, I figured out (even before the first day of class) what I wanted to name my future massage business.  But then, when we all dashed out and got free business cards to hand out at Community Outreach events (so that we could drum up "business" for the free massages we give as homework), I found that one of my classmates had also come up with that name.  She put hers on her cards.

I pouted for a minute, but figured that this meant one of two things:  we are destined to become business partners, or I'm destined to choose a different name for my massage business.  Either way, I had plenty of time.

Time's up.

Our new class is on business -- how to build a massage business.  While part of it is things like taxes and leases and financial statements, part of it is creating forms and pricing your work.  The forms themselves are easy for me.  But at the top of every form, in the middle of every business card, is one consistent thing that I suddenly find very challenging:  A business name.

Naming criteria may have something to do with this.  For a child, one wants a name that is not too pompous and cumbersome for a toddler or child, but not too babyish or wispy for a professional adult, while avoiding formidability.  It needs to last.  Depending on your preferences, it either needs to be happily abbreviated into nick-names that aren't offensive or belittling, or it needs to avoid lending itself to abbreviation.  It ought also to fit the child (like you can figure that out after 12 hours of labor when the child in question is seven and a half pounds of sleep or hunger).

For a pet, the criteria vary a bit depending on whether this pet is a free roaming creature or a caged creature.  With the caged animal, you needn't worry quite as much about whether when you call out this name across the yard/field/house the name is distinct enough to be recognizable.  Shouting out "Agamemnon Come..."  not nearly as effective as calling for "Rex".  Of course, this name should also fit the animal, but that tends to be easier when we do the naming (for all but pedigreed show critters/horses that tends to be 6-8 weeks, when they've starting coming into their personalities).

For a business, on the other hand, the name should be simple, memorable, and informative.  It should avoid weird impressions (especially in massage - one does not want to give the impression, ever, that one is offering services that are illegal in most states).  While it is true, now that I've looked at it a few times, National Fish Therapeutic Massage is a memorable name -- it's memorable mostly because one spends a while wondering what on earth Fish have to do with massage, and not because it seems relevant.).  They say that you should avoid using your name if you're a woman, just so that the creeps out there don't decide that the feminine name sounds alluring... or the strong professional name identifies a dominatrix.

So.  I'm back to naming my business.  I want to convey a tad more than just Therapeutic Massage since I will be doing energy work as well as standard Swedish stuff.  I'm already certified in Reiki (and am planning to get the next certification level soon), so I need to avoid a name that sounds too clinical, and yet I also need to avoid a name that sounds too "new agey".   I do relaxation massage, but I also do deeper tissue specific work.  (Is anyone surprised that I'll have a complex blend? Me either). 

So, here I am.... overthinking things to death, contemplating using other languages (like that will be comprehensible to the English speaking population that will represent 90% of my clients), and poking around in all sorts of places looking for the right name.  Meanwhile, my family keeps making wholly inappropriate suggestions, just to see me puff up and get all pompous about the importance of avoiding suggestive names.

What is in a name?  While it may be true that the rose would smell as sweet no matter what name we give it, the rose's name doesn't have to tell people who don't know who or what it is what it does.  And the rose's name need not inspire new clientele to trust it enough to risk the cost of a massage, while subtly and quietly telling those in search of an erotic massage that it's a complete waste of time to call.

Almost Gardening

Today is Mother's Day.... so I'll celebrate by resting and letting my family pamper me.
Yesterday, however, I finally turned my attention to the garden.  Some of it, is doing perfectly well on its own.

Alas, the pond is growing a bit of algae, but we won't discuss that.  Instead, let's take a closer look at that archway back there.

The roses on the left are doing well.  The honeysuckle on the right are past their blooming best.  And the wysteria across the top.... needs a bit of pruning.

Back on the patio itself, we've got this.

But the planters... the planters were another story entirely.  Yesterday morning,they look like this:

And this:

The only one growing anything was this one:

The johnny jump ups are return volunteers from last year's arrangement, but the rest are weeds. 

Yesterday afternoon, I cleaned out the dead leaves and dead plants.  I weeded the planters that were still trying to grow things. And took Kitty to the plant store to help me choose the plants to fill those empty planters.

I tried to be restrained.  I did.  But in the end, my basket was full.  So full that Kitty swore that this basket had too many plants in it.

It was a small basket.  Especially for plant shopping.  But even I had to admit thath the counter looked a little full....

In the end, however, it turned out that I had just the right number of plants.  I didn't even have a single plant left -- even in the little four-packs.   And now, the planters look like this:

and this:

A little closer look?  I thought you'd never ask --

I think this one is my favorite of the plants we got -- the color is so very intense.

And the round ones look like this now:

My favorite of these, would be this one...

Ahh... gardening!

Did you notice?  There's a plant in each box that you would not expect me to buy.  Why?  Well, go back and look.  They're orange. I hate orange..... but it makes a lovely accent when it's just a little splash of color.  I broke out of my comfort zone to put that accent in this year.

Now I'm all inspired to start in on the front yard. That will be a lot more work. Weeding a flower box is easy.  Few weeds, loose soil means that the roots aren't that deep, and getting them all the way out is pretty easy.  Weeding the real garden, is no where near as easy.  The ground is packed, the roots are deep, and all tangled up with the stuff we want to keep. "Tilling" the soil in a flower box is easy.  Tilling the soil in the actual ground is another story. 

And yet.... when you work in an actual garden bed, you can put perennials in along the way, so that the work lasts for years.  That might actually keep me motivated.  But not this weekend.

My Mother's Day wish for you all: May your Mother's Day be as lovely as my patio garden  ... and may all your gardens bloom and grow as you like them.

On Blogging

Every now and then, I think about blogging (which is not to be confused with actually blogging).  I've been blogging for quite a few years now (it rather boggles my mind when I think about it).  I've been blogging long enough that I don't actually remember when I started!  I've been here at Typepad for a bit over six years.  And I blogged elsewhere for a few years before that.

That's a lot of blog posts!

At first, it was a whim.  I thought it would be fun (I was right).  I didn't expect the ways in which it would change my view of the world and what I do in it.

I didn't expect to start feeling as though it was necessary to have a camera with me at all times, just in case something I saw sparked a blog idea and I wanted a picture.  When I started blogging, my cell phone did not have a camera.  Then, for a while, when I upgraded my phone, one of the criteria became whether or not the camera would produce pictures that were good enough for the blog.

Seriously?  Yes.  I didn't ask whether it could take pictures I'd want to keep for myself -- to remember people or events.  I didn't ask whether it could take pictures I'd want to share with my family (photos of my girls for their grandparents). No. I asked whether the pics would be blog-worthy.  (Sigh)

From time to time, I've taken pictures not because I wanted to keep a memory, but because I had to "feed the blog". 

I didn't expect to develop a wee editor in my head who kept track of what event or scene or encounter was "bloggable."  And, when I started,  I certainly didn't expect to find times when blogging became an obligation.  Since then, I've hooked up with BlogHer, and since they now pay me enough to cover the costs of blogging, it is reasonable that I feel an obligation to post regularly.  Which leads me to today's dilemma.

My life is interesting to ME right now.  But it's not as full of what I think are bloggable moments as it used to be.  Because I'm studying a lot and doing homework (i.e. giving massages), I'm spending less time knitting. That means I have fewer interesting knitting updates to provide (assuming of course, that you're interested in knitting at all - but this is/was primarily a knitting blog, so I like to pretend that you are).  I'm also spending less time wandering around my yard noticing all the lovely things -- and thus taking fewer pictures of them.  And I'm not getting in as much travel, so there aren't those things to share.

Yes, school is dominating my life (yay).  This semester, we're studying pathology, and delving slightly into various massage modalities.  When we were learning muscles, I found more things to share on the blog that had to do with what I was studying.  Now, well, pathology is fascinating, but generally kind of icky.  I'm not anticipating that very many of you want to read about the icky stuff.  And the modalities are fascinating, but we're not studying any one of them in enough depth for me to feel like what I have to say about them will be useful.

So... the thing that is consuming most of my time lately is not as easy to blog about. 

Oddly, that hasn't lessened my desire to blog.  So... you're getting random thoughts and topics.  I'm trying to think of a way that will improve the coherence of the blog (and thus make it more interesting).  So, I thought I'd put up a wee little poll to see if you all are willing to share what you'd like to read more about.

Which topics would you like to read more about on this blog?
	Knitting - even token progress is progress.
	Massage - you can tell us what you think of the modality of the week.
	Introspection - I've enjoyed your recent meanderings.
	The Family - what ARE Kitty and Bookworm and Golf Pro up to anyway?
	Politics - I know it's branching out, but I'm curious about your views
	The Cats - you have THREE now, and we want pics
	Gratitudes - bring those back. It's good to be reminded
	Tutorials! - you stopped teaching us how to knit, and we're sad.
	Other -- explain in comments
pollcode.com free polls

 

Weird Frugality.

As some of you may know, I go a little nuts with candles during the holidays.

This means that dozens (or more) votive candles get spread around the house (and burned).  When you do that, there always seems to be a sort of ring of wax at the bottom of the candle-holder that you just have to throw away. 

That always irks me.  So this time, as I cleaned out the candle holders, I accumulated those wax rings...and then stuck them all into the holder with the tallest wick -- sort of giving that candle more wax.  As long as you don't put grossly competing scents together, it turns out to work pretty well, even if it does look kind of weird.

Having done that, I got to thinking about those stubs of tapers that you wind up with at the end of the day. And the occasional wax overflow.  Again... seems so wasteful to just throw those away. 

Votive holders to the rescue:

They look weird at first... but soon settle into looking like plain old votive candles.

Golf Pro is not going to find my new need to collect dead candle wax very amusing...

Technical Difficulties

My email seems to be insand.  I'll write an email, and send it.... Thunderbird tells me it's been sent... and yet, folks aren't getting the emails!

Very annoying.

So... if you've sent a comment (particularly to the post "Visible Progress") but haven't gotten my response (yes, that's right, I really do try to reply to most comments), please comment here and let me know.

Meanwhile, it's snowed again.  And yesterday, I risked it all and shoveled the front walk, and did round two (getting the last bits) of the driveway.  So far, my shoulder has NOT complained.  I'm impressed and pleased..... but still not trusting of the progress.

As for the snow, I can't decide whether to hope it stays or goes -- we seem to be having roof leaky problems.  The roofer can't come look until the snow has melted off of our roof -- of course the melt may also mean more water coming in.  Sigh. 

I think I'll go back to cleaning the house for our Annual Solstice Party.  That's got to be more fun than fighting the technology or the roof.

Holiday Musings

The Holiday Cards are starting to come in... and it got me thinking about the tradition of sending Holiday Cards.

First, of course, it got me wondering whether we have any cards in "back-stock" and how many I'll need to buy, and how many I'll be sending .... but as I stood in line at the post office to buy stamps today, I began  musing...

To whom does one send these cards? and why?

When I first got married, I found that my husband had an interesting dichotomous view of cards.  On the one hand, he didn't see any reason to add notes to cards, and didn't really want to be involved in their sending at all, but when I asked him to tell me who he wanted to send cards to -- he gave me a list of about a hundred people.... without thinking about it very hard. (Lots of them were business acquaintences).

 I send holiday cards to all of the family members that I so rarely get to see (and, as I do with some of the friends who receive cards, I typically enclose an Annual Letter that sort of summarizes the past year so that folks we don't see enough can keep up with our shenanigans).  I also send them to the friends I'd claim as family if I could.  Those are easy.  But there are also those whom I've not seen in ten years or more -- and some whom I've never met but who were Golf Pro's friends back before I met him.  There are some people about whom I wonder -- our only contact seems to be this annual exchange of holiday cards.

There was a point when it seemed like we were sending a hundred to a hundred fifty cards out, and not getting so many in return... and I got all anal and weird and set up a spread sheet to keep track of who we send cards to, and who we receive cards from. (It also helped me keep track of how many cards to get, and whether I'd actually send one to each person THIS year).  After awhile, I started weeding the list -- folks to whom we'd sent cards for a certain number of years without receiving a card (or other contact) began to fall off the list.  And of course, when cards came back becasue the people had moved, I either removed the person from the next year's list, or began a diligent search for the lost friend.

This year, we're a bit cash strapped. This year, I wondered whether I ought to forgo this ritual.  After all, between the cards themselves, and the newsletters, and the labels (my hands can't write that many addresses by hand), and the stamps, it gets pretty expensive to send out Holiday Cards.  We send out twenty to our "closest" family alone. 

For so many of these people, I have e-mail addresses -- why don't I just e-mail the Annual Letter along with some warm Holiday Greetings?  Or send e-cards?  Mostly because there is something special... different... more meaningful about a tangible card.  It's an object I can hold in my hand; it's a paper upon which a real person has written words just for me (even if it's just a signature).  It's a contact that the electronic media just doens't quite match.  And... it makes my mantle piece look festive ... and as the number of cards exceeds that which the mantles can hold, reminds me - visibly - for the rest of the season that there are a bunch of folks out there who care enough to send a card.

And so... because I want to keep that human connection going, I succumb to the material craze of the Holidays, and buy cards (well, okay I usually buy them in July at this amazing discount store in Maine), and buy stamps, and print, and write... and send those personal notes to my friends and family along the way.

Luckily, this year, the back-stock seems pretty full.

Blog Cheating

This blog entry is a total cheat.

Seriously.

I'm simply referring you to a couple of pages on the internet to be awed by some chalk drawings that will blow your mind. (with a nod to The Divine Though Blogless Elizabeth who shared them via email).  It's truly worth the two minutes to look at this you tube slide show.

Those are nice, moderately tame things (well, except perhaps for the shark). But this guy ... makes sidewalks almost scary! But damn are they awesome!

Here's a video of how Edgar Mueller (and team) made the Cravasse in Dun Laoghaire for the "Festival of World Culture" which took place from August 21. to 24, 2008.

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Chaos -- it's taking over my back yard

Chaos. It's what's for breakfast.  Here's a bit of chaos inducing silliness from the Psychiatry Department.

Which number would you push? (Actually, it makes more sense than most medical/psychiatry deparmtent phone answering systems).

Closer to home... we have more chaos

My back yard has turned into a jungle.  This is the price I pay for being too damned lazy busy to maintain it myself.  Realistically, we hire folks to cut the lawn because the summer months tend to mean that I'm gone for a whole month, and the Golf Pro is gone for four days at a time on and off all summer.  To avoid the recurring jungle phenomenon, we hire folks.  We used to have great folks.  

I've recently learned that the people I've hired to mow the lawn and weed whack the be edges daren't actually whack the edges because they evidently can't tell the difference between a weed and a plant, and thus fear whacking a plant.  If it's not fear of plants, its fear of hoses -- they can't whack one bed because the hose is too close to the edge.

Realizing the limitations of the weed whacker, and my own limitations as a weed hunter, I've even hired folks to spray deadly chemicals on certain types of weeds (I have found no non-toxic solution to the thistles that think this is the spawning ground from heaven).  They have evidently been spraying fertilizer instead. The bad kind of chaos has taken over.

My favorite lawn savior is out there now preparing to fill the back of his pick up truck with plant debris and haul it away.  I am not amused that I'm paying him to fix what I've already paid to previously paid to prevent. I wish like crazy that I could hire HIM to do the stuff that my current "team" has failed so miserably at, but he's only in town about four days a month.

I'm similarly unamused that I'll be making scads of phone calls to try to find people who a) know what they're doing, b) aren't afraid to do what you hire them to do and c) don't think it's reasonable to charge $55.00 per hour to do work that requires very little training. One fellow thinks it's sane to charge me $80.00 to mow my lawn and whack the weeds -- once!  (I struggle with that since I can't get a job that pays even half that).  I'm even less amused that I have to make 20 calls leaving messages before I can even talk to one person about the possibilities. 

However, touring the chaos that is now my back yard reminds me -- If you look closely enough, some of the good kind of chaos still shows.

This is the grass plant that we're going to have to cut out because it's overgrown all sense of civility and restraint and is trying to take over the yard...

 

Most disturbing to me is that despite having been vigorously trimmed (whacked to almost nothing) it's growing far larger than it was ever supposed to get, and is squishing the lovely dogwood that we planted so that we could enjoy the variegated leaves and the red twigs it will show in winter...

It is still kind of pretty to look closely between the blades...

 

But wait, what's that yellow blob?

 

Isn't she amazing?

And there are some plants that I was sure had long since stopped blooming, but which are pulling out one last effort.

That clematis was stunning in June.  But mostly, it's been ... well... a boring old vine.  I love surprises like that.

I'm not so fond of volunteers gone mad.  Do you see anything... awkward... about the path beyond the bridge?

 

How about now?

 

Yeah.  It might well grow into a lovely tree of some kind.  But not there.  And not in any of the other dozen or so places that particular beastie is thriving around the yard.  They're going the way of the half dozen mulberry volunteers.

At least not all of the volunteers are undesireables... There are things appearing in the planters that I didn't put there, well, at least not this year (nor in fact for the past three years).  Chaos... in a good way.

 

There's even a volunteer dogwood in the front yard that we actively want to keep!

And finally, two things that are thriving, without having been over taken by weeds... right where I put them.

 

Still fascinating to me... and still lovely with this growing right behind it.

 

Days like this I almost want a condo.... but I still revel in the beauty of a garden, even a feral one.

What do you do when it's just too Hot

Today has been one of those days.

It was beastly hot.

We've had this lovely pleasant not-quite-summer weather for so long that I've forgotten how to handle real mid-western summer weather. So once warned that this weekend means a return to 90+ degrees with a heavy dose of humidity ... I nixed any outdoor plans.

First, we slept late.

Then I caught up on all my Lexulous and Wordscraper games on Facebook, and read blogs and chased quizzes and learned that I might just be able to kill a man if it came down to it:

My result for The Can You Kill a Man? Test...

Maybe I could...

I scored 20% Cold and 46% Level-Headed!

In a pinch, I could do it, but I'd need a damn good reason to. And I'm not going to be too happy afterward.

Take The Can You Kill a Man? Test at HelloQuizzy

I think this is actually a pretty accurate answer. 
Eventually, though, I had to venture out of the house.  So I took the girls, and Kitty's bike, to a local Bike Project establishment.  Bike Projects are very cool things.  They're all over.  In Austin, in Baltimore, in Bloomington,in Ghana, in Lansing, in New Orleans, in Reno, in Urbana,in Wilmington, in ... (you get the picture... just Google Bike Project and your town name; if there's not one in town, go for the state, you're sure to find one).  Our goals for this trip were several: 

1. Find out how Kitty can join up to learn how to repair bikes (they have this project for kids under 15, where by the kid learns, repairs a bike for the Project, and then gets to repair a donated bike for his or her own and keeps it!);
2. Repair Kitty's bike, and determine whether or not she'd outgrown it (she hadn't, yay);
3. Get a basket of sorts put on the bike so that she can carry the clarinet to and from school;
4. Get a helmet for Kitty, so she can ride her bike to and from school;
5. Get a light of some sort on the bike in case "from school" becomes "in the dark";
6. Miraculously find a bike that fits me so I can replace the bike that was destroyed when GolfPro tried to help me clean out the garage a few years ago.

And... we accomplished them all!  We still need a really truly headlight for Kitty's bike, but we got the rest covered (including BRIGHT blinky lights for front and rear), and I'll be getting her a horn (likely one of these) before school starts, but her bike is ready to go, basket and all.  Turns out if she joins up, someone will help her learn...but they're still working on the best way to go about it.

As for my bike? 

Isn't it lovely?  Note the lovely drink bottle holder?  And, though you can't see it in this shot, a nice rack on the back .... see...

Yes, the seat is a tad torn up.  I'm likely to have at it with duct tape.  I might even go shopping for a new one.  But... since NEW bikes are hard to find for under $400.00 these days, I'm feeling pretty darned smug about this one.  Our whole bill, "new" (i.e. repaired donated) bike, basket, blinkie lights, helmet and all, was $115.00.  And the repair work?  Caitlin did most of it herself, with guidance, and thus we paid nothing but learned something. 

Life is good.

That was enough of the hot outdoors though, so we've come home, and I've been reading blogs etc. and found a new-to-me but delightful blog .... with a contest!

I did try to get pictures of Natalia, since she's clean and dry and everything.  But she's shy today.  We have to wait until the sun is in a different place in the sky I guess.

TV - Grammar Fail

Have you seen those new commercials for that G2 stuff?

Does the grammar failure bother you?  Less Calories??? LESS Calories?  Hello... if you can count them, and so many people count calories every day that I believe they qualify as countable, then the word we're looking for is FEWER.

My TV is making me crazy now.  It's NOT diveriting...sigh.

I think I'll go finish the toes on my new socks... (pics tomorrow when there's daylight).

Some baby booties, and a lamentation on Friendship

I've been on a roll.  And though I have one more FO to show off,  I think the roll is a bout to slow down dramatically.  There are no more AFO's lurking about, and I've no wee projects to start.

So... here are the booties I finished up for CPY last night.

They look like baby thigh highs to me... but that's what Susan wanted, so that's what Susan gets.

Meanwhile, I've been pondering friendship. I've actually been pondering it for a long time, and have started this post repeatedly, but never quite liked what I wrote enough to publish it.  I've decided that if I don't just do it... this post will badger me forever.

What does it mean to have a friend, or to be a friend?  And how do friendships get started. Similarly, how do they end?  And what happens when one person unilaterally decides to end a friendship?

I like to think I'm a pretty good friend.  I welcome people to my home, I call or email or write letters or send instant messages (and lately -- even text messages). I pay attention to life's milestones, and try to acknowledge them.  I give gifts, though far fewer than I would like, sometimes for the milestone moments, or the "obligatory gift giving" days -- sometimes just because.  Once upon a time, when I was single, and had a nice hefty paycheck, I gave gifts without consideration of the cost.  Now, with two children and aging teeth and a house that cost more to live in than we'd anticipated ... oh, and no job, I give less than I used to, and perhaps to fewer people.  But friendship isn't based on GIFTS is it?

Friendship seems to me to be based on mutual trust, affection, respect and interest, and at times, simple familiarity.  Somewhere, two or more people find that they share an interest, or that by circumstance, they see each other every day. And then, they find that they share attitudes or more interests.  And through social interaction of some sort (meeting at knit-nights, rehearsing together, working together, having coffee or lunch, responding to blog comments, email, phone calls, what have you), they develop some sort of bond.  And they respond to that bond by increased interaction -- and a thing we call friendship develops.  And maybe even the urge to give gifts.

Over time, one or the other will commit some trespass that annoys the other.  And discussions will ensue.  Generally, with friends, we get past it, and the friendship continues.  With mere acquaintances, we sometimes don't, and the relationship, such as it was, dissipates.  But, from what I've seen, friendship isn't one of those things that you just switch off abruptly without reason.  At least, that's what I've always thought.

I have (had?) a friend who has, of late, stopped responding to emails, stopped returning calls, stopped responding to comments to her blog, and hasn't acknowledged a gift I sent several months ago.  Through her blog, I see that she is still communicating with other friends, talking on the phone with them, receiving and delighting in gifts -- because she blogs about it all.  I see that she's not suddenly too ill to communicate with the world.  I can only assume that I've done something unforgivable to her (or to someone she loves)-- but I can't for the life of me figure out what that something is.  Six months ago, I was visiting her home, hanging with her family, and happily exchanging gifts and stories.  Six months ago, she was "Auntie" to my kids.  Now... the radio silence is deafening.  I've even emailed to ask what offense I'd caused that she so steadfastly refuses to speak to me...(I told her that if she wants me to leave her alone, she need only tell me so (and why if possible) but have gotten no response.

And I'm sad to lose that friendship.  I miss our emails.  I miss her comments on my blog -- and I miss her responses to my comments on hers.  I miss looking forward to visiting her again.  I miss the phone chats we had for a brief while.   But mostly.... mostly I'm confused.  I can't quite let go because I just do not understand what happened that caused a person who emailed me three or more times a week to suddenly stop responding.  I have pondered my many failings, and come up with nothing to explain why she's abruptly turned her back on me, silently.

 Either way, it seems that I've been shunned.... for her other blogging friends (with whom I also used to have an intermittent email correspondence) have now also stopped responding to my comments on their blogs.  Maybe I'm just not cool enough to be in their crowd.  I linger on....

Perhaps, I overestimated our relationship.  I thought I had a friend.  I thought that her repeat invitations to stay in her home were signs of friendship. I thought our emails were exchanged in friendship.  I thought that her gifts to me were sent in friendship.  My gifts to her were sent/given in friendship.  In fact --- I have another gift for her that I don't quite know what to do with... I bought yarn with her in mind.  I designed and knit a small shawl with her in mind. And now, it sits ... languishing, neither worn nor bestowed, for I fear that it will be unwelcome..... or will be found wanting, or that it will be perceived as trying to buy my way back into her good graces.  For a while, I admit, it sat because I was hurt and angry that she hadn't even so much as acknowledged receiving the last gift.  But still, it seems to know it was meant for her.  And I can do nothing else with it....  Every day, I think I should just mail it to her anyway.

Do rejected friends still have the right to give gifts?  If not, what does one do with a gift that was conceived and made with prayers and thoughts for a former friend imbued in every stitch?

Keeping the Holiday Cheer in Perspective

Various blogs I read (I'd linkity, but then I'd practically install a list of my top 25 blogs here, so it's not really practical) have been reminding us that public intoxication, even in the guise of celebrating the season with your friends at seasonal parties, is a bit gauche.  They've also reminded us that public intoxication in the guise of celebrating the season with your co-workers at office sponsored seasonal parties is a Bad Plan.  As in Not Wise. As in  Just. Plain. Stupid. 

I've seen this in person this year.  Saturday I mentioned that the office holiday party I went to on Friday night was... a bit exciting.  It was a prime example of why allowing yourself to be over-served at your employer's holiday party is a Poor Career Choice.  I refrained from saying then that it seemed rather like someone there decided to do a Jerry Springer audition, but the more I ponder it the more that description seems fitting.  I'm still blown away by the things she said. I've since learned that the individual in question took her rather alarming behavior out on the town, and did a repeat performance in a local sports bar/restaurant frequented by folks in her employment community and their friends.  Another poor career choice -- it took what had been at least confined to a small group of people and made it public.  And, unfortunately, what she was saying meant that folks couldn't really separate her stuff from the employer.   It showed such a frightening lapse in judgment, that it effectively put her employers on notice that her behavior had the potential to become volatile anywhere.... even, perhaps, in the conference room with a client.... or worse.  She really left them no choice.

The moral of this story?  If you behave badly enough, even the holiday season won't save your job.  And public intoxication can lead you to behave pretty badly. 

Now, I realize that this is a season "full of cheer".  Some of it is in children's faces.  Some of it is in our hearts.  But some of it, especially when folks aren't otherwise feeling cheerful, seems to be in liquid form.   And the liquid kind seems to be readily available at holiday parties.

I also realize that this season, there are all sorts of things to plague our minds:  The big public ones, e.g. The Shrub is working on issuing decrees that bypass the Congress, which decrees will do awful things for the Country; the economy sucks; the transition between presidents will not go smoothly even if both Bush and Obama are genuinely trying to make it happen, because people like Illinois' governor are behaving badly;

and...the smaller personal ones:  we will not finish our Holiday Knitting on time because we were, once again, a little unclear on the concepts that there are only 24 hours in a given day and that even if others pick up the slack elsewhere, it is not possible to spend all 24 of them knitting; we're also behind on the gifts we'd decided to try to buy instead of knit this year, because the stores don't seem to want to carry what we want; and  the gifts we thought we could buy for less, were more, and our checking account is looking thin.

But as we go forward, taking on more and more liquid cheer to get us past the increasingly obvious facts that plague us, (like the surprise gift that must suddenly be added to the knitted item list that needs to be finished -- more on that later) let's remember to care for our livers and our careers, by keeping our inebriated outbursts confined to the privacy of our own homes, shall we? 

And when you've tossed back one too many egg nogs...... lift neither the phone nor the needles.  Trust me, you'll thank me in the morning.

On Memories and Ducks and Rabbits and Fat Albert

I was reading blogs this morning, trying to catch up. (stop laughing)
(c'mon...   okay, you're right.  pause to laugh a  little bit hysterically at the idea that I might ever catch up on the blog list)
There.
As I was saying... I was reading blogs, and came upon this post from JoyKnits (only a few days late), in which she was recounting her visit to Soulard Market in St. Louis.
Ahhh Soulard!
I have great memories of Soulard.
Among my favorites -- taking a friend and my step-sister, and finding baby ducks (I thought they might have been Muscovy Ducks, but ours were all white).

In the age when three 10 year olds wandering Soulard alone wasn't scary, my parents set us loose to wander around while they went to fetch food (fresh veggies, fruit, meat from the butchers, etc).  We found baby ducks, and when my parents found us, we were sitting on a bench, each of us with duckling in hand, petting and grinning.

The ducks came home with us.
They grew up -- one was male,  VERY defensive of his gals.
One died in the winter of sheer dumbness.  I'm serious.  The silly thing sat on the frozen snow until it all melted underneath her warm body; then she stood up, until it froze over again, and tried to walk out.  Dumb. We moved the ducks into the basement after that, but she never did quite recover.

Her fellow duck, however, fared fabulously, and that spring we saw five ducklings.  The were around for a few days, and then disappeared without a trace.
They were followed by fifteen ducklings.  Fifteen.

Papa duck became even more defensive of his brood.  I still remember the bruise on Dad's calf from a time he got too close when feeding them.  Ducks, as you may or may not know, reach out with their misleadingly non-sharp non-pointy beaks, grab a bit of skin, then twist and use their wings to flap backwards.  It HURTS!

So... 17 ducks in the yard.

Consider -- we lived in town.  Right in University City.  This city, you may note if you check the map, is surrounded by other cities.  It's no where near the "country".  And though we had a nice yard, it wasn't huge.  We were not in an area where raising foul in the back yard was an approved activity.

Eventually, someone called the city on us, and we had to get rid of the ducks.  When Dad went to move them (he released the adults into Forest Park on one of the ponds there), he found another 23 eggs in the nest. egads!  Silly us.  We should have been collecting and eating those eggs!  Wonder why we never thought of it.

Another trip brought rabbits.  BIG rabbits.  I'd no idea rabbits came that big.  But for reasons I never did get, my Dad brought home three rabbits one day.  Built them a lovely hutch that nestled in under the back porch.  The largest of them, he named Fat Albert (after the character in Bill Cosby's routines -- this was before the cartoon came out, we'd only listened to stories about Fat Albert).

Alas, the dogs got to the rabbits.  One at a time...

But I still remember how magnificent those rabbits were

So.. thanks Joy!  I enjoyed that little trip down memory lane. 

Oy what a week...

What a week!

I spent a few days cowering in pain from my sinus infection.  I'm currently loving penicillin derivatives.

I started the Halloween Costume Construction lunacy.  This year, we're doing the T-Tunic thing. You know, fold fabric in half, cut neck hole, pin to fit, sew side seams.....  They can look like this:

But when you're doing something snazzy with sheer fabric for the sleeve, you have lots of extra from the sides... so you can do a variation on gores for the skirt... leaving you with something like this:

I still have some gores to sew in.... and some sleeve work to do... and likely a hem or two...  But we made a start.

I also spent about three hours on the phone with our HealthCare provider's accounts department (after who know how many hours working out a spreadsheet to line up what I know we've paid with what they show we've paid).  They don't show "received $100.00.  They show all the bizarre ways they've allocated any given payment to a charge.... so $100.00 gets broken down to $2.37 to this date of service, $15.20 to that one, 25.00 to this one 12.43 to this other one... $0.90 to that one (I kid you not)...etc. etc.

We found a good $100.00 in stuff that's been unallocated for over a year, and thus doesn't really show as credited....  Now I'm checking on whether they've over-allocated after insurance payments.

I'm hating it.

On the good side... I've also been spending time with the spreadsheets for Seasons of Lace... and awarding raffle prizes right left and center.

I had actually bound off the stealth knitting project I'm doing, but realized that I really did have enough yarn for another repeat of the lace body... and ripped it all back to use up as much of the yarn as possible.  Now I'm nearing the end again.  Sure wish I could show you!

Then we learned about Hurricane Omar.  You see, many many months ago, we got an omigod deal for a weekend in St. Thomas.  $399.00 paid for five days and four nights for all four of us!!  I managed to score plane tickets for all four of us for $329.00 each.  This weekend is the weekend we're scheduled to go (Oct 18-22).  Then this hurricane shows up and starts glaring at St. Thomas.

We got notification.  American Airlines seemed to be saying that if we were scheduled to fly between October 13 and October 18, we could reschedule at no extra charge.  We figure that's a good  plan, manage to move the amazing hotel deal... only to learn that the latest we can reschedule the flight to is.... Oct 18. 

Huh?  Why reschedule from Oct 18 to Oct 18?????
Moving it would have cost $563 PER PERSON!  hello??? more than the original tickets by a lot!

So, after hours of agonizing, and contemplating what to do with our weekend (since DH had finagled the time off), we had to scramble to reinstate the deal for this weekend.   NOW I really need the break!

Meanwhile, my dear friend, the Divine though Blogless Elizabeth, has given me my birthday present a tad early (it's not til Monday).

Are those not the CUTEST knitted shoe/slippers you've ever seen for an adult foot?
And they fit perfectly!

I Heart My Shoes!

I'm a little sad that they aren't really appropriate for the beach.

I'm secretly gloating a little that I get to spend my birthday on the beach.

Blue Ribbon Blog Award ... for me!?!

Joy nominated me for a blog award!  DAYS ago even.  Okay, now it's bordering on weeks.

I'm tickled to show off my blue ribbon ---

As with all good titles, the ribbon comes with some responsibilities -- and they're what kept me from showing off right from the start.

Here are the rules:

Post the award on your blog.

Add a link to the person who gave you the award.

Nominate at least 4 other bloggers and add their links.

Leave a comment at the recipients’ blogs so they can pass it on.

Four.
Hard to choose just four.  I enjoy so many ... and so many deserve the award.... and that's why I've been dithering over this post for so long.  I mean, there are over 25 blogs in my Google Reader list that have been plunked into the "Favorites" folder.  So I've had to consider which of these favorites were "more favorite" (is like like "more equal"?).

Then, I realized that many of these blogs are blogs I love because I love the people who write them.  I wondered ... would I read this blog so eagerly if I didn't KNOW this person? 

I’m passing it along to just a few of the blogs I enjoy:

1.      The FairyGodknitter lace knitter, mom, friend, awesome tour guide for the Buffalo area, and all around witty and wise person who maintains the most amazingly positive attitude in the face of adversity.

2.      Your Pharmacist May Hate You  non-knitter (as far as I know).  Yes, it's true, I do read non-knitting blogs. This one, written by a pharmacists who refers to himself as DrugMonkey reveals all sorts of things that you hoped weren't true about the pharmaceutical industry, the medical industry, life, and the way politics intersects with those things.  He also tells some pretty amusing drug store stories.

ARGH - times two!

I'd finished this post, and when I went to save/publish it.... it ATE the last chunk, the one in which I'd said

ARGH this is so hard!  So far I've listed one blogger whom I didn't know before I'd read her blog, and one I don't know at all. Let's see if I can do that again.

3.      What Housework knitter, dyer of amazing yarns (her color sense is brilliant), mother, inadvertent farmer, and all around great person ...

Nope.  I can't.  I would offer you Dilbert.com blog, but he's so big I'm pretty sure he won't respond at all.  He's actually very informative... but still.  That leaves me with a woman I knew through lists, and references, and whom I'd met a time or two at events before I visited and stayed with her this summer.... after which I started reading her renewed blog.

4.      Grafton Fibers: Linda's Blog  spinner, knitter, crocheter, blender of incredible spinning fibers, co-owner of Grafton Fiber Arts (maker of awesome needles, hooks, spindles, and looms, and purveyor of said awesome spinning fibers), shepherd, mother, staunch advocate for her children, and teller of tales of the evils of Man that will curl your hair, while making you proud as hell of her for her tenacious and valiant efforts to withstand the onslaught.

5.       As Nora and Joy have said, it’s really hard to pick just 4 - there are so many more.  I've skipped the obvious ones.  I mean, how many blue ribbons does Steph or Franklin need?  If you’re reading and commenting, thank you, thank you! Please take the ribbon and pass it along!

Thanks again Joy!!!

Meanwhile, while reviewing the blogs I read, I was (aren't we always?) lead to one I'd not read before, which had embedded this video.

It's good.  It's funny.  It's smart!  And in the end, it's serious and has an important message for us all.  Please watch, and think about what this man has to say. (oh, and enjoy the giggles).

Someone Else's Wisdom... and a Rant

I have a big nasty rant brewing for my not-so-friends at Comcast.  But first...
there's something important anyone who knits, or who knows or loves someone who knits should read.  Go on... I'll wait.  If you read it a day or so ago.... read it again.

It's hard to type with the welling up thing my eyes are doing after reading that.  Franklin's right.  What we do IS important.  And we ARE beautiful.

And since that's true.... why does Comcast have to treat anyone who is stuck with it's services so damned badly!???

I have had connectivity problems with my comcast email since they bought out my former ISP.  (We're talking months here) The server times out.  Over and over again.  But not ALWAYS... so it's an intermittent problem.  So I get to call them.  A lot. Sometimes, they tell me that it's a known problem and they're working on it.  Sometimes they write up a "ticket" and tell me that a tech will call me within 24 -48 hours.  Until yesterday, no techs ever called.  When I got peeved with the shitty service (that included reports logged on my account saying that the problem had been resolved even though no tech ever contacted me, and the problem was still very much there), I asked to speak to a manager type.  Here's what they do for that.

1) The person you're on the phone with logs into his/her computer, and tries to log into a "chat system".  You wait while this happens.

2)  When the person finally gets into the chat system, he or she then has to explain what your problem is, what he or she has done about it, what anyone else has done about it, and why you want to speak to an "acceleration agent".  You wait while this happens.  No matter how long this takes, you wait.

3) Eventually, this request gets sent to someone who decides that you can speak to an acceleration agent.  They then send a telephone extension number to your "customer service" person.  You wait while your person gets this extension number.

4)  The customer service person then attempts to conference you in on a call with the acceleration agent.  But first, you wait while he or she explains stuff again.

I'm not sure what really happens next, because this process takes at least 1/2 an hour.  By the time I got to talk to the acceleration agent I had been on the phone for a total of 50 minutes, and was too angry to speak rationally.  I explained this to her, and asked her to return my call in a couple of hours when I'd be able to behave civilly.  She promised to do so, but seemed to want me to stay on the phone while she put a bunch of stuff in a form.  I hung up.

I hates Comcast.

And they wonder why I don't want to add their phone service to my account.

I likes the tech fellow who came out to my house and solved some of the problems, but he hates their system too.

Oh -- if you're talking to SALES, and not tech support.... you can get a manager almost right away.  I know this because sales keeps calling to try to entice me to add their phone service.  I'm so up for having my phone line be intermittently available.  NOT

And while I'm ranting about folks not doing their jobs..... today I had an appellate argument.  Yep, I got all dressed up in my lawyer suit and drove for an hour an a half to defend an appeal on a case DH had won on summary judgment.
I'd done my homework.  I was primed and ready. 
Opposing counsel (who, it turns out, was in my first ballroom dance class) was primed and ready. 
It didn't seem to me, however, that the panel of judges had done their homework.  I'd be very surprised if they'd read the briefs (why do we write them if they're not going to read them??).  The questions they asked made me wonder if they had any idea what the case was about, who the players were, or what the real issues of law were that they were there to decide.  They'd have known if they'd read the briefs.  I can't say that they were either primed or ready. Either that or they were trying to trip us up somewhere. Harumph. 

I lost a lot of good knitting time preparing for that case.  (But they do allow knitting needles into the appellate court building.)

But tomorrow .... tomorrow I might get to go hang at the yarn shop with Janna, who is in the area for sadder things (and thus safely away from the floodwaters in Iowa), but thinks she'll be able to squeeze in some time for blogger meet up fun.  And better yet.... one of they LYSs is having a 40% off sale on some of her stuff tomorrow.....

Ramling on about Banks and Muppets and Yarn and bad Socks

I wrote this post almost a week ago.

I was SURE I'd posted it.

I know understand why I got no comments!

Although I had a lovely weekend, It  started with a very weird experience at my bank.  Admittedly, this particular scenario made my day a tad bit easier, I'm not at all sure I like it.
Here's what happened:

I was getting ready to escape to Chicago for the weekend, and needed to bring some cash.  So.... we  drove up to the  ATM on the way out of town.  I went to a new branch of the bank .... one I've never visited before... because it was much closer (and barely out of the way to the highway).  I wondered aloud why I don't use  this branch, since  it's so much closer to home.

The drive through ATM is clearly designed for SUVs and minivans.  But I was in a Prius.  So reaching the keypad was a bit more challenging than I'd intended.  First I managed to get into the system in Spanish.  Laudable I suppose,  except that I can neither speak nor read Spanish,  and thus could not conduct my transaction. Then, when I finally got in, in English, and told it I wanted some cash from my checking account, it asked "which account?".... and listed Account 1, Account 2 and Account 3.  Odd.  I only have one checking account with this bank.  I selected number 1 figuring that with only one account, Account 1 had to be right. It had asked for my pin once, but evidently it wasn't convinced.  It asked for my PIN again.  It didn't like what I entered. I canceled my transaction, started over, and tried again selecting Account 2, with the same results. I gave up and went inside. 

I strolled into the bank wearing comfy traveling clothes, and told the teller what had happened.  He remarked that this "select account" thing was new, and that it was indeed confusing those customers who have only one account.  He told me that if we have only one account, we're supposed to choose  account one. Okay....but that didn't work, did it?

  His Sidekick (a woman who was standing behind him) asked if I wanted  him to call card services to see if there was something wrong with my card?  "Sure,"  I said.  "And can I get cash... I don't have my checkbook with me... " "Sure," says Teller Guy.

So, as I'm standing there, and  Teller Guy is getting a cash withdrawal slip to fill out, Sidekick takes  my ATM card, and calls over to card services.  She  reports that there have been two failed PIN entry attempts (likely the two I experienced at their drive through), but that she could have them  reset  my pin  for me right there.  I said, that sounded fine, and  gave  them a new  PIN number.  Meanwhile, Teller Guy fills out a checking withdrawal slip for me, and asks me for my account  number.  I rattle it off (it's an easy one).  He writes it into the slip, and then processes  my transaction.

In mere moments, she gives me my card back, with the new PIN, he gives me $200.00 in cash, and    I walk out.

Do you notice something missing from the above scenario? Sidekick never asked for the original PIN. Teller Guy never asked for any ID whatsoever. Seems  to me, I could have been a thief who had stolen a purse, nabbed the ATM card and the check book... memorized the checking account number, and gone into the bank for some cash. 

Seems to me that when  a bank client you've never seen before says "Hi, I can't get my card to work," a bank employee with any hint of security consciousness wouldn't respons to "there have been two failed PIN attempts" by offering to reset the PIN without getting an ID.

Seems to me that when a person comes into the bank w/o her check book, you ought to ask for ID (or at least have the person confirm some other piece of information) before merrily giving her cash.

I'm just sayin'.

Luckily, I suppose, I am the owner of the account, and thus, no one stole money from me Friday. From there on, it was smooth sailing.  E (my walking buddy, not to be confused with the Divine Though Blogless Elizabeth, with whom I also sometimes walk) and I drove up to Chicagoland, where we landed at her Mom's house.  We were soon met by Alyse and Evan.  Joanne served us a truly delicious dinner, and we all went to play on the Wii Fit.  I neeeeed one.

Saturday, we went into the city for Brunch at Wishbone. Can you say Yummmmmm.  I can.  I'm quite sure I ate more than I should have.  I had an omelet with cream cheese and bell peppers, grits, and crab cakes. And Mississippi  Mud (espresso, condensed milk, cream, ice). 

Thus well fed, Alyse and I took Alicia to Loopy Yarns.  I was cameraless I know, I know, BAD Blogger behavior), but Alyse took a few shots (she's promised to send them to me).  I tried very hard to be good.  I managed to resist sea silk, and Manos and a 25% off on Rowan yarns  sale.  But this particular hank of sock yarn would not let me leave it behind.

oops

I blame it on the yarn fumes.  You see, my room at Alyse's house is also a yarn storage space, so I slept with yarn fumes all night.  And then, well, Loopy Yarns is rife with them.  It's hazardous.  I'm thinking I did really well. (Notice that I'm not outing Alicia or Alyse?  They bought more than I did.  see... I was good.)

It was a good thing I was feeling strong despite the yarn fumes... as it would have been a bit awkward hauling the big bag of yarn I wanted to buy into the Caddillac Palace Theater.  At a bit of prodding from Alyse's husband (who called us), we tore ourselves away from the yarn store to take a brisk walk up State Street so that we could be thoroughly entertained by Muppets!. 

Avenue Q may resemble Sesame Street in some ways... and yes Oscar's trash can would have fit right in ....  and the style of presentation may have been similar... but Avenue Q is definitely NOT a kid's show.  If it were a movie, they'd have to rate it NC-17.  I don't care if there's no human nudity involved, that much sex on stage is not for kids. BUT.... Avenue Q is not (just) muppet porn (though one muppet insists that the Internet is for Porn).  It's a great show... full of laughter, that makes you think about some serious issues (like, say, Racism) in ways that make opening the topic more accessible. 

The rest of the weekend continued... full of friends and good food  and good conversation, and food, and even some knitting. Some not so happy making knitting.

You may remember Rivendell.

I have been struggling to get Rivendell started in a way that means it will actually fit.  You see, as written, with my yarn (that is the perfect colorway for this sock), the sock will not fit over that wide place where your heel and arch are ....  I've tried about four needle sizes  -- to get it over that wide spot, the gauge had to be far too loose for socks. So I've been trying to modify it.  I've made it so the very top (where the wrapped stitches prevent a lot of stretch) will actually go over my heel/instep.  But that means that its baggy baggy around my ankle.

grrrr.

At least it's pretty (even if this picture is hiding how lovely the yarn is in person).

I'm sure if I think about it, I'll have lots to say about this weekend (besides THANK YOU Alyse, for putting me up in your house!)

But right now... it's HOT, and I'm tired and hungry, and thus cranky, and have blogged my fill for the day.

What I Love about Summer

Laverna has given us todays ramblings.  They're all her fault.  Besides, you know how hard it is for me to resist a blog related contest!  (Go see).  She's in a funk because spring was abruptly sucked into Dog Days of Summer worthy heat, and is hoping that we'll be able to collectively provide enough things we love about summer to get her to appreciate it.

So.  Here are some of the things I love about summer (and the fact that some of these work in Spring and Fall too should not detract from their summerfulness).

• Waking on my own schedule.  I do not have to get up early just to roust the kids for school.  I get to get up when MY scheduled needs it. Which tends to mean that I actually get enough sleep.
• No shoes. Even though this means no socks :-( .... but I much prefer shoelessness.  Especially when the reason for shoes is that without them you'd get frostbite on your toes).
• Daylight.  Lots of it.  Taking blog pictures at 8 p.m. in real daylight.
• Traveling! It's vacation time around here, and that means I load my kids and my knitting into the car, and drive off to visit family and friends I don't get to see in the other seasons.
• Lobster.  I get fresh from the sea lobster whenever we visit my Mom (Mid-coast  Maine) in the summer.  Ditto mussels and clams. yum
• Flowers.  Lots of them.  Blooming all over.
• Swimming.  Preferably around 4:00 in the afternoon when most of the folks at the pool have already gone home.  Ahhhhh.
• Stitches Midwest.  I get to go almost every year.  I'm regularly overcome by yarn fumes, but I love re-encountering all my fiber loving friends, and talking to the folks I buy yarn from and all the goodness that goes with a big fiber event.
• Knitting in the Gazebo.  Even when it's hot, the ceiling fan is usually enough to make a nice breeze.
• Dining al fresco.  Lots of restaurants have lovely "beer gardens" where you can sit away from the ubiquitous televisions, and enjoy a nice chocolate martini or a mojito beneath the stars.
• Canoing (or for those lucky enough to be able to do it: SAILING!)
• Ice Cream and Custard.  Especially the smaller ice cream stands where you can get the "home made" variety. We have one here in town, and there are two near mom.  They just aren't open in the winter....
• Playing in the sprinkler.

And of course -- SEASONS OF LACE - Summer of Lace 2008!

What Kind of Person Am I?

What ShadowDancer Means

You are truly an original person. You have amazing ideas, and the power to carry them out. Success comes rather easily for you... especially in business and academia. Some people find you to be selfish and a bit overbearing. You're a strong person. You are friendly, charming, and warm. You get along with almost everyone. You work hard not to rock the boat. Your easy going attitude brings people together. At times, you can be a little flaky and irresponsible. But for the important things, you pull it together. You are relaxed, chill, and very likely to go with the flow. You are light hearted and accepting. You don't get worked up easily. Well adjusted and incredibly happy, many people wonder what your secret to life is. You are very intuitive and wise. You understand the world better than most people. You also have a very active imagination. You often get carried away with your thoughts. You are prone to a little paranoia and jealousy. You sometimes go overboard in interpreting signals.

What's Your Name's Hidden Meaning?

Well, I can certainly live with that description of me.  I wonder if it's got any basis in reality.

What it doesn't tell you is that I'm a person whose family can accumulate enough leftovers in the fridge to fill all of these plastic containers  (and leave them until they're inedible),

and still have a refrigerator still looks this full after we've cleared all those leftovers out.

Nor does it tell you that I'm a person whose productivity can be seriously impaired by cats..

Note the  lack of space for knitting in my lap?

See ... there... how am I supposed to work on any lovely lace when I've got all this adorable catness in my lap?  I mean seriously?

Look at these guys:

Who can resist??

All I was able to do was go for a less challenging project

It's the Noro Outtakes Scarf Hat.  The scarf was a bit too much of an ambitious plan for the yarn I have left, but it's clear to me that I'll be able to finish the hat.  I'm doing a variation on the Marsan Watchcap.
I actually wished I'd found the pattern before I gotten through so much regular ribbing that  I didn't want to frog again... I rather  like the twisted rib she used.  Mostly, I just like that I've  found a hat  that works with what I've done so I can work that as a simple blind follower.  I CAN do that..  sometimes.  Usually it takes test knitting to get me to just do what I'm told.  But from here on out, I'm going to do what I'm told on this hat... 

I am the sort of person who can do that.  Really....

Random Thoughts

Topics of the day... are scattered (as has been my mind lately).

When I thought I'd have nothing whatever to say, I tried this blogthing:

You Should Be a Doctor

You are practical, sharp, and very intuitive. Optimistic and energetic, you are a problem solver who doesn't get discouraged easily. You are also quite compassionate and caring. You make people feel hopeful. You're highly adaptable and capable. You do well with almost any curve ball life throws at you. You do best when you: - Are always learning new subjects - Use your knowledge to solve problems You would also be a good therapist or detective.

What Should You Be When You Grow Up?

Hmm...  It's pretty close, but me? a doctor? really?  I found physiology interesting, but pithing the frog about did me in.  I don't think I'd be a good detective, but perhaps a therapist.  Note that it didn't say "lawyer".  (My second choice gave me this:

You Should Be a Mechanic

You are logical, calm, and detail oriented. You're rational when things are chaotic, and for you, reason always prevails. And while you are guided by logic, you aren't a slave to it. You're flexible when it counts. You are always open to being wrong. You do best when you: - Work with your hands - Can use tools, machines, or equipment You would also be a good architect or carpenter.

What Should You Be When You Grow Up?

Again... no lawyer.  I but no way would I be a good mechanic. So.  Week in review I guess.

Wednesday's wings (ahhh)

The Divine Though Blogless (DTB) Elizabeth has returned, and we had a lovely time knitting on Irtfa'a.    We only knit five rows this time.

We're both blaming jet lag, but really, it's because I've got this sudden bizarre need to put beads in this baby, and by row 7 there have to be beads to add.... The beads are on order.
Jet lag also explains the poor picture -- we took one shot and called it good.

Practicing outside our religion.

Here in Shadowland, there are no actual practicing Christians in the house.  Sure, DH is a lapsed Catholic, but since I've known him, he has set foot in churches only for weddings and funerals.  Nonetheless, the girls and I seem to be participating in Lent this year.  We've each given up something .... with the understanding that after forty days, we can resume enjoying it. (DH is not playing.  When I asked him what he'd give up, he said "smoking".  This would be exciting, except that he's never smoked in his life.  Very funny man, my DH.

The women and proto-women in the house, however, are taking a stab at it.  C is giving up cookies at lunch (this counts on school days only, when she's not going to be buying cookies).  I'm attempting to give up diet coke (in all its forms).  That can of caffeine free diet coke that lurks in the fridge is a constant source of torment. (hmm.... by C's rules, I ought to be able to drink it on weekends, right? since she's not giving up school lunch cookies on weekends.... No. no, I shall be strong).

J, on the other hand, has given up her "shawlie".  Yep, she still has the shreds of the lovely bell shawl that was knit for her when she was a wee wee babe.  She holds it while she reads, or sleeps, or watches TV, or.... anything at all around the house.  It's been in my purse since Wednesday.

That got me to thinking about sacrifice...and what it means in various traditions.  The one I like best is the concept of cutting away that which you no longer need (but cling to), in order than you can harvest the fruits of your old experience, and can experience new growth.  J's sacrifice really fits this.  She doesn't really need the shawlie anymore..  I hope to harvest a healthier body (of course I'd prefer new shrinkth to new growth but whatever).

Now... I'm off to work another row or two of Willow.  Can't Chrysopolis 'til I redo the chart, can't Irtfa'a til I see the DTBE again.

They're gone already :-(

There is nothing quite so lovely as a visit from my parents.  There is little that is over so much too soon as a visit from my parents.  Thus, such visits tend to mean that I ignore my blog duties, since they're rarely here for more than a few days.  But I trust my blogland friends to forgive my lapse.

Mom and Dad arrived on Saturday, and Mom and I spent part of Sunday prowling around for groceries, and for the last minute gift things we needed for Obligatory Gift Giving Day.  Me -  I was hunting for the ornament of the year for my step-daughter, due to be used the next day.  Mom was looking for rocks.  Seriously.  But no matter what we're shopping for -- even if it's just eggs at the grocery, we enjoy each other.  I'm so lucky that way.

I meant it about the rocks. Mom gave J a great book on rock painting, along with a beginner set of acrylic paints, a palette, some brushes, some sponges --- and some rocks to paint.  She'd shipped much ahead of time, gotten me to pick up some parts, and intended to bring some Maine rocks with her, but forgot.  So... we were rock hunting in the land of fertile fields.  It was a challenge, but in the end, some rocks were found.  (J was nonplussed as she opened the package -- first she found the sponges... then the rocks... she was quite perplexed.  Mom and I tried not to giggle).

As for the ornament, each year I try to give each of my girls an ornament that reflects something significant they'd done in the previous year.  C and J were easy this year -- each had taken up a new instrument.  I found marvelous instruments on line, and thus our tree is now graced with a trombone and a clarinet.  But LJ was more of a challenge.  She's 17, and has been playing volleyball for ages (but she already has a killer volleyball ornament).  As is typical for high school kids, she's not highly communicative with her step-mom about the significant milestones .... but ultimately, I chose a heart -- to represent her first serious "relationship" (she's had the same boyfriend all year).  Okay, Mom chose the heart.  I decided that it should be a heart, but Mom found the best one.

On Monday, LJ arrived.  We had a nice visit, did the whole tree decorating ritual, and I knit like mad trying to finish up.  I hadn't gotten quite as much knitting finished over the preceding two days as I'd have liked, so I had to make some choices.  I only finished one of C's mittens... but by forfeiting sleep (and risking that Santa would skip our house upon finding me still up at 2:00 a.m.)  I managed to finish Mom's scarf/shawl in time to put the finished (if unblocked) object under the tree. 

She graciously let me steal it back long enough to block it.
And she loves it.

She also loves her mittens.

There was much "carnage" on Tuesday morning.  Everyone received at least one something that they really like.  My current favorite (as in right now this very second, and that is likely to change before lunch) is a new iPod shuffle.  I'm loving it's lightness, and am even listening to it now, as I type, instead of letting the computer sing to me. 

There was much food Tuesday afternoon. --
First we went to a friend's gathering, where she served the most delicious pot-stickers (I am not going to cop to the quantity I consumed.  Nuh-uh. no way), and egg rolls, and brie pastries and... and...

Then we came home where Mom helped me finish up the dinner.  And yes, it was unabashedly traditional: Turkey, garlic-mashed potatoes, Louisiana yams with a brandy-butter sauce, green beans, crescent rolls, Waldorf salad, (another regular leafy salad that wound up waiting til Wednesday), and (after a reasonable break), pecan pie with vanilla ice cream.  We didn't even slice the brownies.

I ate way too much.

There was much conversation too.  And though I didn't spend nearly enough time with Dad, I did get it a bit of a visit.  Mostly, DH hogged him.  Taking him to lunch, taking him to work out... if I weren't so pleased that my DH enjoys his in-laws, I'd be miffed.  Heck, he even took Dad along to deliver J to the town mid-way between here and her mom's house so that she could go home for more gifts.

Yesterday, Mom and I took the girls to see The Golden Compass while Dad and DH went to another flick.  It was pretty good... but changed much that was in the book.  It added new scenes (several times I thought "that's so not in the book"), omitted things that I thought were important, and put some things out of sequence.  But then it was based on the book, and didn't really purport to be a true rendition of the book. 

According to the Golden Compass site -- my daemon, Andreas is a whippet (I seem to recall getting a raven last time... )... what do you think? did they get it right?

Last night we had a lovely turkey soup that Dad made (he is SO good at that), and visited and watched a bit of the Vicar of Dibley.  Then this morning, I took them back to the airport.  It was a lovely visit.  I miss them already.

Holiday Knitting and other Annual Time Sucks

Theoretically, I'd have a  lovely pair of mittens to show you by now.

But we all know how theories work don't we.

Let's see, last Sunday, I took my lovely lacy mitten cuff over to the Beading Banshee's house for a sort of holiday knitathon.  While there, I discovered an egregious error and frogged the whole bloody thing back to the cast on, and started over. 

According to my plan, even with restarting Sunday night, I should have finished that mitten by Tuesday... and indeed should be rounding up the second mitten this evening.
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Such are the best laid plans.  Perhaps I should have gotten Lene to set up a more realistic schedule for me.  She has even graciously agreed to do for me what she's done for the Yarn Harlot (who seems to be doing brilliantly with HER schedule).  But to have a Lene prepared schedule, I have to be able to tell her how long it takes to knit these things, and I've no freaking clue!.
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Clearly, these mittens take longer than I think they will.

Here is mitten one:

 
It may be taking a tad longer because the other side looks like this:

Now, I LIKE the reversed colors.  I think it's very cool.  But I do have to double check now and then.
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Okay, I have to be honest.  It's not because I'm doing reversed colors.

It's because I've been doing other holiday related things.

Like shipping lovely mittens to Canada, where I hope they arrive in time for THEIR official gift giving day.

and..

Writing the Annual Letter in which I try to sum up a full year of news for four (well, five) different people in one page -- a page that has to have 1.5" margins instead of 1" margins so that the pretty holly border on the edge doesn't obscure the words (or vice versa).  Whose plan was this?  How did I get involved in this nonsense?  And why does my mother have to like is so much that I keep writing them every year?  It's not like it ever has any news that she doesn't know!  I tell myself that the girls will like having them when they're adults.  I also tell myself that the recipients appreciate them.  So I write them.

But I spend far too much time tweaking the damned things into something that works, only to find some grammar nightmare AFTER I've printed all the copies. ARGH.

Of course, when you send annual letters ... you put them in Holiday Cards.  At least I do. 

And that's another thing that has consumed far too much time this week.  The holiday cards.  This is another one of those things I wonder how I got into... and that seem to consume entirely too much knitting time.  How bad can this be?  What's a few cards here and there?  I mean, when I first married, I had a small list of folks to whom I sent holiday cards.  Maybe two dozen, a dozen and a half of whom were my family.  It didn't take long, and I happily wrote personal notes into each one.

And DH never sent cards to anyone.  Now he gets credit for sending lots of them - and I do the work.

"Our" list had blown up to insane proportions. Insane I tell you.  Well over 100... seriously.  This year, I've whittled it down viciously, (I mean seriously... I cut off at least two dozen people this year, and have cut it almost in half from the year we moved here).  Even so, This morning I put over 70 cards into the post box. SEVENTY!!!!  Holy Crap!

To whom did these cards go?  Over 30 went to DH's friends and colleagues.  Some of these folks he's known forever, some he met this year.  None of them would get any cards, but since I'm sending cards anyway, he'd like me to send them to these folks.  His family accounts for another 10 or so.  These folks wouldn't get cards either, but since I'm sending cards anyway.... 

About half a dozen go to family friends on my side -- folks who have been close friends of my parents for much of my life, and who I see whenever I visit.  They're practically family.  And there are a couple of people (yep, two) to whom we send cards who really are  mutual friends... But still, how is it I am choosing (that's another challenge right there -- finding lovely cards with decent art that do NOT have the word Christmas on them -- so I can happily send the same card to all, including my Jewish, Pagan and other non-Christian friends), buying, addressing (admittedly w/ labels so the postal employees can read them), stamping, and sticking return address labels onto cards for FORTY plus people to whom DH wouldn't naturally send cards himself?  Every year I wonder this.  As I'm buying an extra two boxes of cards to cover his list..... as I'm verifying addresses for people I've never met... as I'm paying for an extra two books of stamps ... as I'm pushing him to sign the damned things (I draw the line at signing cards for people I've never met.  I'm selfish that way).

I have a list.  And now, I'm keeping track of who sends US cards.  Two years without a card from you, and you're OFF our list.  OFF I tell you. I'm serious.  An uncle has already been cut out of the list for years of silence.... Just so you know.

At least I'm ahead on one thing.

We do stockings. (shit, I have to finish needlepointing J's stocking! shit shit shit).  That means that there have to be cute little gifties in the stockings.  Each year I wait 'til about December 23, and then freak out about not having any stocking presents.  THIS year, however, I've already started on them!  So there.

I'm ahead of the game somewhere.

Just not with the holiday knitting.

Seasonal Facts: Fall Has Arrived

Okay.

I cave.

I admit it.  There's absolutely no way that I can continue to deny it: fall is here.

Yes, the temperature has been teasing us all for weeks -- a dip down into the forties (F), a flare up into the sixties, and a sweep back down to the fifties.

Yes, I know... we did the Halloween dance, and watched the streets flood with children in costumes.

Yes, I know that we engaged in that tom-foolery of turning back the clocks this weekend, giving an extra hour of sleep on Sunday (who needs it on SUNDAY?  we need it on MONDAY --every Monday in fact).

But still.  It didn't really feel like fall.  I mean... .look at all the trees.  Some are turning pretty colors (There's one building on campus with a gorgeous wash of red in front... and then next one over has a wash of gold.  It's like they planned the color sweep).  But some are still green (and they're deciduous).

This morning, however, it all came clear.  There's no avoiding the truth now.

What happened?  Well, part of it is lingering from last night, when going out in my fallish jacket proved to be me inadequately dressed for the weather.  And DH actually fired up the seat warmers in his car.  That was a strong hint indeed....

But this morning.....

I was brushing my teeth, as as I often do, I looked out my bathroom window at the tree in my back yard.  While I watched, a leaf fell.
Then two.

Then about five in rapid succession.

Then more like ten.

Suddenly... the tree seemed to be letting go of its leaves, as though someone had cued the process in a play.  It was eerie!  I glanced around the yard.  No other trees showed so much as a leaf quiver.  There was no evidence of wind.  Just this tree, dropping its leaves in a rapid cascade. If I'd been wearing more than a towel, I'd have grabbed the camera to film it!

I felt like I was watching a comic strip!

I mean, seriously!  When I put the toothbrush in my mouth, there were a few thin spots on the top of the tree.  By the time I rinsed, two minutes later, there were only a few straggling leaves left at the top, and the middle and bottom were showing clear signs of thinning.  I'm guessing that by evening, the poor thing will be naked!

I guess that means it's really fall doesn't it?

Of course the temperature that is now actually below freezing might also be another clue.

Working for Exposure

Marylin over at The Knitting Curmudgeon has this marvelous thing on her blog:  She calls it Open Mic Thursday.  She poses a question for her commenters to discuss. Sometimes I play.  Sometimes I don't.  Sometimes, I want to say so much that I feel compelled to make my own blog post about the issue.  Today, she asks:

You design your own garments/accessories, you write about knitting, you could teach a knitting technique to others. You are offered the opportunity to have your work published or the chance to teach in the knitting spotlight. However, you are offered only the opportunity, without financial reimbursement, with the rationale being that you are getting "exposure."

Do you accept those terms? If not, does it matter how much you are paid? A token sum or market value?

As with most things, my answer starts with the phrase "it depends".  And in this case, I have different responses to publishing a pattern for the privilege of getting "exposure" and teaching in the knitting spotlight for "exposure.

On the teaching front, I'm trying to imagine how anyone could offer enough exposure to make it worthy of my not being paid, unless the students are getting the classes without paying for them.  Even teaching at Stitches doesn't quite constitute sufficient exposure to make it worth doing for free, unless it comes with some guarantee of future paid gigs. 

It's not that I am unwilling to donate my time and expertise: I do teach voluntarily for my kids' schools (that would be me, intentionally trying to corrupt young children by introducing yarn addiction as early as possible), and there's no publicity there. And I've taught for knitting guild meetings, but that's my voluntary contribution to my guild, for which I receive, in return, the wisdom of other members when they teach in turn.

However, inviting me to teach for free just to provide "exposure" is asking me to do every bit as much work as goes into writing a pattern, (preparing for the class, creating the hand outs, planning the time, adjusting for the level of students you anticipate with contingencies for a surprise in either lower or higher level students in the class, creating samples etc), and is likely asking me to spend money on materials for the students in the form of handouts), but does not provide lasting exposure.

A pattern can give you lasting exposure.  Teaching, can really only give you exposure for the weeks surrounding the class. 

I'd likely even teach for free if all proceeds from class fees went to a charity I support, but not just for the exposure.

Similarly, if I were offered the "opportunity" to have one of my patterns published without financial reimbursement, solely for the privilege of getting "exposure",  my response would vary depending on the pattern, and on WHERE and HOW it was being published, and how much control I have over the final presentation (and proofing).  Certainly, a pattern that I found a breeze to design and write up but which I think is elegant and nifty, would be more appealing to me to publish this way than one I agonized over for months.  Similarly, I'd be more likely to accept payment in "exposure" in a publication that was truly popular with widespread readership, and that would be around for awhile.  After all, patterns do last ... so that kind of exposure could theoretically be continuous.  However, I'd be more inclined to agree to such exposure if at least two (and preferably all three) of the following conditions were true:

1)  I retain the right to publish the pattern myself (say on my website), whether immediately or after a certain number of months after they publish it; and
2) The exposure in question is pretty amazingly wide; and
3)  The publication for exposure comes with a promise of future contracts to publish additional patterns for pay with the same venue. 

For example, if Vogue Knitting was doing a series of patterns for some worthy cause (say, Breast Cancer research), and planned to donate X percent of the cover price of that issue to one of the breast cancer research foundations, and  would print my pattern in that issue, and would also put the pattern on their website for people to purchase individually, with a percentage of the proceeds of those sales also going for the research (hence the widespread, and continuous exposure) -- and offered to publish another of my patterns in a future issue within the next year at their regular rate in conjunction with publishing this one for no pay other than the exposure?  yes, I'd donate...

If Creative Knitting wanted me to let them publish a pattern for "free" to give me exposure because I'm a "new" designer" and they are trying to "help" new designers this issue.  I'd likely decline.

That said, I'm again "donating" a pattern for OFA.  This year's Red Scarf Project scarf was designed for my post on the  Ethnic Knitting: Discovery: The Netherlands, Denmark, Norway, and The Andes Blog Tour. 

It's based on Donna Druchunas'  guidelines in the Norwegian section of that book, but is specifically charted.  It will be available for download as soon as the camera and the scarf learn to work together without clashing.

Ramblings from Rogue to Babette and the Post Office

You Are Midnight

You are more than a little eccentric, and you're apt to keep very unusual habits. Whether you're a nightowl, living in a commune, or taking a vow of silence - you like to experiment with your lifestyle. Expressing your individuality is important to you, and you often lie awake in bed thinking about the world and your place in it. You enjoy staying home, but that doesn't mean you're a hermit. You also appreciate quality time with family and close friends.

What Time Of Day Are You?

So.  with my eccentricities...

I'm joining the Society to Enforce Swatch Honesty.   As you may recall, I swatched Rogue dutifully.  I even soaked the swatch and let it dry to get an accurate measure.  I was allegedly knitting to gauge.  I knit for a bit, and double checked my gauge (admittedly, while the thing was still on the needles, but c'mon how much distortion can a circular needle's cable introduce?).  I was still on track, so I knit merrily away on my beloved Rogue, loving every minute. Having finished the first ball o' yarn, I thought I'd check to see how the fit was going to work. 

Ahem.  I'm aiming for about 39"  I had 49"!  I am not a person who likes lots and lots of ease.  The only thing I want over 10" of ease on is a big winter coat under which I plan to wear things like, say, Rogue.  I measured several times.   And though I was doing this on the needle, I still got at least 48".  This says to me that if I released it all, it would only stretch more!

My swatch had very clearly LIED to me.  I triple checked that I had cast on the correct number of stitches, and that I'd followed the pattern properly.  It was the swatch.

The result is that I've now frogged the dear thing back to the hemline, and will resume knitting again with a smaller needle. 

One of the joys of my Options needles is that I can switch needle sizes w/o taking the cable out... but that only works if the needle in question is not in use.  I do not yet own duplicate tips. (Another joy is that I can order me up a spare set with ease).

The size 7 tips were employed in C's version of the Jessica's Lace tee (which I can't really show you because I'm still hoping to sell the pattern).  Since there are no 16" Option cables, I knew that all I needed to do to free the 7 tips was finish up the neck band.  I got that done this weekend.

Does this mean that the 7 tips are available for Rogue?

Well, actually, no.  You see, I've been working on this, which abruptly swiped those tips, butting well into the front of the line without even saying excuse me.

This is a baby blanket being co-knit by me and DD#1 (C), for the baby my former co-worker, Betsy, was expecting on September 4.  It's been fun taking turns with her, and seeing the thing come out nicely despite our two very different knitting styles.

Since the baby in question is Betsy's first, I figured she'd be a tad late.  So I wasn't working full tilt on the blanket.  I'd do a little blanket, then do a little Surprise Sweater (for the Player to Be Named Liam), and do a little Rogue... you get the picture).  Well... Betsy's baby had other ideas.  She was born at 12:01 a.m. on August 30.  I've been cranking away at Babette's  Blanket ever since, wholly shunning all other projects (save the neckline, which I finished up just to get the needle tips).  You see, Babette's Blanket was on size 7 bamboo circs until it got to the edging, where for reasons I've already forgotten but couldn't have been that good, I'm creating a ruffle that means every round increases the number of stitches by 3/8 of the original total.  That original total was about 512 stitches.  As you can well imagine, I swiftly ran out of room on the old needle (which might have been a 32" needle), and had to switch over to the Options to get the 47" and then the 60" cable.  I'm on the last row before the bind off (thank goodness), and it's a VERY tight fit on that 60" cable.  However, the tips should be free for Rogue by the end of the day, especially if I manage to put in some time in front of the telly.

When not knitting, which I did at home and at Whichy's local bday party (I love her whole family). I've been continuing to try to win the battle of the clutter in my house.  Part of this included borrowing Whichy's husband and The Player To Be Named Liam's dad to move this desk up into the room that houses the Stash Closet.  (look mom, more yarn storage).

This is a chest with a history.  When my parents were young and in grad school, they bought all kinds of marvelous furniture at the St. Vincent DePaul Society.  It was all grungy or painted to death or...  Anyway, this was among those pieces.  They refinished it (as they did the others), and carried it up from the basement to the 2d floor apartment in which they lived the night before I was born.  For some reason, this means that I'm unwilling to let the chest leave the family.  For six years, it's been in our back hall serving only to collect clutter.  Now, it has a better purpose. See, it's holding sock yarn and Sea Silk (and the hat blocking head).

Another thing I've been doing is going through the knitting bookshelf, rounding up the books (and magazines) I no longer love, and posting them on KnitSwap.  This past week I discovered PaperBackBookSwap.  I listed a few of the lower valued books there, and they were claimed with almost alarming speed.  This sent me to the post office, where I was also mailing one magazine I'd sold.  (A list of the books and patterns that are left can be found here, and if you're really bored, the yarns are up here and I promise the magazine list will be up soon). At the lovely Post Office,  I encountered bureaucratic nonsense in its finest fettle. 

You see, mailing books and magazines used to both fall into the "media mail" category (which is much cheaper than parcel post).  Some time ago, they split them up.  Now, if there are ads in the thing you're mailing (e.g. magazines), it has to go "Bound Printed Matter."  Even if the magazine in question is over 30 years old, it's got ads in it, for things that no one can now purchase from companies that are out of business -- but they're still ads, so it must still go Bound Printed Matter (which is more than media mail, but less than parcel post).  That's silly enough, but get this:

If you're shipping Bound Printed Matter, you can't take it to the Post Office to get the postage applied.  You have to bring it in with the stamps already on it.  And it has to have Bound Printed Matter written on the package.  If you don't have the stamps, you're supposed to purchase the stamps, leave, apply them, and return.  Because, you see, if the magazine in question weighs more than 6 oz. you can't just drop it into the nearest mail box, you have to take it to the post office -- where they can't put the postage on, because you have to have done that before you got there.

Luckily, my postal employee thinks its silly.  He let me buy the proper postage in stamps, and then ignored that I applied them to the package while he was processing my credit card.  He thereafter accepted the package from me.

Sheesh!

And now, I return to my unscheduled frenzy of Babette Edging.