Some things I have learned

1. The amount of time my derrier can comfortably remain on the back of a bike is approximately 2.5 hours. After that, all bets are off.

2. I need new bike shorts.

3. A 4 hour bike ride, no matter how early in the day it is done, has the capability to wipe a person out for the rest of the day.

4. I am hideously out of shape.

5. By the time one has biked for 3.5 hours, the concept of pride is nonexistent. No matter how slight the hill you are trying to ascend and how many other people are on the trail with you and will look at you and probably laugh, you'll still get to the top faster if you get off and walk.

6. Lemonade tastes very good, especially when you have just biked for three hours.

Oh, and Jon? Happy birthday, even though it is a day late.

We've All Had Them

A list of things that were royally ticking me off (some still are, others, not so much):

My hair -- for the reason that it never does anything that I want it to do.

Cable cast-ons -- and any other project that, after you use it to cast on 200 stitches (as opposed to your favorite long-tail because you didn't want to get to stitch 192 and realize you only have enough tail left for three more) and VERY CAREFULLY join it to start knitting in a round, requires you to realize that even after your very best intentions? It still manages to finagle in a twist.

Toilets -- mine in particular, especially when it is clogged, like it is now. I am suspecting that this is my own fault, but that still doesn't change the fact that I can't seem to get it fixed, which means that when I wake up in the middle of the night and have to pee -- this is a major problem. Hopefully it will be fixed today.

All the various and sundry people who, whether intentionally or not, all conspired to make my afternoon something out of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre yesterday. It's like they all got together and said, "Hey! I know! Let's all see how many little pieces we can chop B's self-esteem into before she turns into a raving, screaming lunatic!" (Actually, I've never seen TTCM, but it sounds like that's what happens, and if you happen to be someone who has seen it? Please do not irritate me further by telling me anything different.)

This is all a roundabout way of saying many, many, many thanks to my dear sweet friend, the lovely V, who took me knitting last night and paid for my dinner. And to all you wonderful people who e-mailed me regarding comment cards, because you are all lovely and all deserve such glowing comments from patrons.

My Turn!

So Tuesday I listed twenty-six things I liked about Canada in honor of their independence day. Today is July 4, and it is now our turn. So to all my Canadian friends, here are twenty-six things that you may or may not know about your fine neighbors to the south:

A is for Apple Pie. You don't really get anymore quintessentially American than this. There's a reason the phrase goes, "as American as apple pie."

B is for Baseball, our national pasttime.

C is for Chevrolet. It's also for the Civil War, because precious little did more to help define us as a nation.

D is for Delaware, the oldest state in the union.

E is for Everyone who has helped make this country great.

F is for Franklin. Besides writing Poor Richard, inventing central heating and bifocals, and figuring out that lightning and electricity are related, Ben also founded the first lending library in the nation.

G is for Gettysburg. 'Nuff said.

H is for Hot Dogs and Hamburgers. Because that's what we all eat today.

I is for the Imperial System. Why we don't use the Metric system like everyone else in the world, I have no idea, but it doesn't look like we're going to change anytime soon, so for now, I'm reveling in being different.

J is for Jefferson. That all men are created equal and life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness stuff? That's pretty cool. But founding the Library of Congress? That totally rocks.

K is for Key. The "Star Spangled Banner" is a devil to sing, but kudos to the guy who wrote the lyrics. K is also for King, because MLK, Jr really was a great man.

L is for Lion Brand. I don't actually use their yarn a whole lot, but they have lots of neat patterns (and they're all free). L is also for Lincoln, who was arguably the greatest leader our country has ever had.

M is for Memorial Day, the day we remember all our fallen heroes of past wars. It was first celebrated back in the late 1860's (called Decoration Day then) to commemorate all the men and boys who had been killed in the Civil War. It's been celebrated every year since then. (So to all my Canadian friends who gave me flack about the way Nov 11 is or is not celebrated down here, we aren't being rude, disrespectful, blase, or apathetic toward our fallen soldiers. Memorial Day had been celebrated for 50 years prior to the end of WWI.)

N is for Native Americans. Thank you for making this country so great before it was stolen from you.

O is for the Oregon Trail, and all the people who traveled it.

P is for Patriotism. We got a lot of it. And that's a good thing, because a country is only as good as the people who love and defend it (note, I said country, not its leaders).

Q is for Quakers, who not only helped to settle the land, but also help to remind us that war is never the answer.

R is for Railroads, who helped to connect the land in ways never thought of before. R is also for Religious Freedom, the reason why many of the people who settled here came in the first place.

S is for States Rights. I will admit that these have gotten us into trouble in the past (Note C,G, and L), but when it comes right down to it, I personally think it's great that the different states have so much autonomy.

T is for Twain. Because it just wouldn't be a list about the US without at least one reference to our favorite writer. Please go read Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer if you haven't already.

U is for Underage Drinking, which contrary to what many of my Canadian friends think, is a REALLY BIG DEAL here. We don't care what the drinking age is in other places. Here, it's 21 or bust.

V is for Virginia. Besides being where I happen to live, it's also the name of the first person of European descent known to be born in the US. It was also the home of several US presidents, where the capital of the Confederacy was, and where the last major battle in the Revolutionary War took place.

W is for Washington. Again, 'nuff said.

X is for EXpats. Whether we like to think of ourselves like this or not, the truth of it all is that the majority of Americans are, or are direct descendants of people who came here from other place.

Y is for Yankee Doodle. Only Americans can take a song that started out as an insult and turn it into part of our national identity.

Z is for Zee. Because contrary to many parts in the English-speaking world, that's how we pronounce the last letter of the alphabet.

Happy Fourth to all my American friends. Have fun and enjoy the fireworks.

Here We Go Round...

"Mistress Mary" talks about Mary I of England.
"Rock-a-bye Baby" talks about James II of England.
"Ring Around a Rosy" is about the bubonic plague.
"Humpty Dumpty" is apparently about a canon that fell off a castle rampart during the British Civil War.
And "Baa Baa Black Sheep" is about taxes imposed on wool during the Middle Ages.

But I've got to wonder about "Here We Go Round the Mulberry Bush." Where does it come from?

It's not the poem itself. That may come from the fact that the plant happens to grow in the courtyard of a particular British prison, and that the inmates used to exercise around it everyday.

But I am curious about the wording. Because mulberries don't grow on bushes.

The Bible says that mulberries grow on trees (Luke 17, if you're interested).
The above mentioned prison says that the foliage within its grounds is a tree.
The forestry department at Virginia Tech says that mulberries grow on trees.
And, (most importantly in my opinion) the mulberries that grow wild right outside my apartment building (and are free game to any of the tenants) grow on trees.

So why does the rhyme say bush? It's not the only one that references mulberry bushes -- alternate words to "Pop Goes the Weasel" talks about mulberry bushes, too.

Any thoughts?

In Honor Of

Because today is July 1, I thought I would take the opportunity to give honor to our fine neighbors to the north. Here are twenty-six things I bet a lot of you don't know about them:

A is for Alpine. Because even though I don't drink beer, sometimes, I feel you really do have to live here to get it (yes, I know that's a semi-old slogan). It's also for Atwood (Margaret), and Anne (of Green Gables).

B is for Basketball (I bet you didn't know it was invented here). It's also for Blue Jays (I'm not a fan, but I think they deserve mention as the only MLB team NOT in the US)

C is for Curling. Ever seen Men with Brooms? Great Movie.

D is for Diversity. 'Nuff said.

E is for Eh? Yes, they really do say it.

F is for Fundy, the Bay of. High Tide, Low Tide, any kind of tide. Once you've lived on it for four years, you'll never think of tides the same way again.

G is for Garlic Fingers. Go north and have some.

H is for Hockey (of course), Halifax (a great city), and Hopewell (because those rocks are just darn cool).

I is for... well, I looks very much like the number 1 -- the number one country in North America in terms of size. Yes, it really is bigger than the US.

J is for Joey's, the best pizza place in the world.

K is for Kathy, down right the absolute coolest person in the place.

L is for Loonies. How come we can't give our money cool nicknames?

M is for Maple. Period. Yes, it can stand for other things, like Maritimes, or Molsen, or Macleans, or Mount Allison, but when you get right down to it? M is for Maple.

N is for New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, Newfoundland, Northwest Territories, and Nunavit. More of Canada's political subdivisions start with N than another letter.

O is for Oil. There's more in Canada than there is in the US, believe it or not.

P is for Patons. (You didn't think I'd go through a list without bringing up at least one reference to yarn, did you?) It's also for Poutine, the absolute best, most delicious comfort food in the universe. Look above at G for directions.

Q is for Quebec. What else?

R is for the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, who usually wear dark blue and drive Chevrolets. They train in Regina, another great R (I've never been there, but I'm sure it's a wonderful place).

S is for Sackville, the home of Joey's. And many other things, but you really should consider stopping by just for Joey's.

T is for Timbits. Again, 'nuff said.

U is for Universal Health Care. A shame we don't have something similar in the US.

V is for Vimy Ridge. If you don't know anything about this WWI battle, well....

W is for Winter, which has a tendency to last ad nauseum, but really is one of the prettiest times of the year.

X is for X-files, which were filmed there.

Y is for Yukon. I've heard it's very nice up there. And without it, we would have no Call of the Wild.

Z is for Zed, which is Canadianese (I should say Commonwealthese, actually, since they say Zed in Britain and Oz too.) for the last letter of the alphabet.

Happy Canada Day to all my Canuk friends. I hope you all have a great one.

Didn't Your Mother Ever Tell You....

The other day while I was at work, I was checking out this woman's books when she commented, "You don't look any older than 15."

I said nothing, just continued checking out the books. She looked at me for a moment, then said, "Are you older than that? Not by much, surely. Sixteen?"

The woman was clearly in her retired years, so perhaps anyone younger than 40 looked infantile to her, but we'll ignore that for now. And we'll ignore the fact that no teenager would ever be working behind the reference desk at a library (at least not at mine). We'll also ignore the fact that, regardless of how someone wants to look when they are 40, it's quite rude to tell a 20-something that they look like they're in high school (Think about everything a 15-year-old can't do that a 20-something can. And honestly? Who are you more likely to respect?).

But we'll ignore those facts, because there's something else that was bothering me more. When I was a child, I was taught that there are three questions that you never (NEVER EVER) ask an adult for two reasons: A) It's none of your business and B) It would be rude.

How old are you?
How much do you weigh?
How much money do you make?

There is exactly one reason (and one reason only) that you should be asking a stranger any of those questions: if it's an integral part of your job (The sales clerk at the liquor store has the right to know). Otherwise, regardless of how old you are, or how old the person you're asking is, you NEVER EVER ask these questions of anyone. I don't know the ages of most of the people I work with -- and I'm on first name basis with all of them.

So, since when did growing older excuse people from basic politeness? So this woman was old enough to be a grandmother. So what? Does that mean that she can just ignore basic rules of etiquette? In fact, if she was indeed a grandmother, then it stands to reason that she was responsible for installing manners into at least one other person, which means she should be familiar with the fundamental laws of decorum. And if she feels that she can go around asking complete strangers their age, I shudder to think how her child was raised.

So if you happen to see someone who you think doesn't look their age? Unless it is your responsibility to make sure they are old enough to do the activity they're trying to do, keep your mouth shut. Whether they look their age or not, IT'S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS how old they are.

Only Three More Months

Until school starts again. In the meantime, I'm knitting myself a poncho, which will at least help me deal with the blasted ice box the HVAC system thinks I need to be in at work.

Three months. I can do it. I know I can.

Catching Up

I've finished my butterfly socks.



Knit from something akin to Lion Brand Glitter Spun. The pattern is made up. The color is a bit off, due in part to the lack of natural light when I took this picture. At the time, I had all the lights off and the curtains drawn in my apartment in an effort to escape from the (insert filthy explicative of your choice here) heat wave that we were going through earlier in the week.



I've also completed my forest green socks, knit from one of the skeins I bought at Maryland Sheep and Wool. The pattern is my own standard sock pattern.

I took the remnants and knit a pair of toesies,



which, contrary to the photo are actually done now. They're a little short, but I'll manage.

Sometimes....

We humans are a weird bunch. I realize this is not news to any of you, but it has really come to my attention in recent days -- so much so that I feel forced to comment on it. Of course, I am including myself in this bunch. I would never dare to accuse other people of being strange without making the statement about myself in the process. I'm sure I lead the pack in some areas.

Food is where we are definitely the weirdest. I pity the poor alien anthropologist whose job it will be to observe us someday. Think about it. I will gripe about $4 gas, then go and spend the exact same amount of money on some fancy drink from Starbucks. I will eat beef, and I will eat goose, but absolutely refuse to eat veal or fois grois. I will also not eat tomatoes or peanuts, but throw the tomatoes into a pot and cook until mush, or grind the peanuts until they're the consistency of soft butter, and I'll eat them both with gusto.

But I'm not the only weird one. The whole human race is like this. We believe that eating Rocky Mountain oysters will miraculously correct some ailment we have with our own corresponding body part (don't laugh -- that's how the whole custom started), and will eat fish eggs, monkey brain, and asparagus for the exact same reasons. We will eat chicken, and we will eat eggs, but we will not eat fertilized chicken eggs, even though they're basically the same things. My friend S from college thought rice pudding was gross, because she believes that rice and milk are two foods that don't go together, but she didn't bat an eye at a bowl of Rice Krispies. My brother will not eat cherries, but he will eat the cake part of cherry pudding that has juice in it. My coworker M will eat turnip greens by the bucket load -- but refuses to eat the turnips themselves. She'll also eat liver, but not kidneys or chitlins. And my friend T from church will gladly consume most any form of animal flesh set before her, but was sufficiently grossed out the other day when I told her where Jello comes from.

Yep. There's no denying it. We are one odd species.

Random Musings

1. I just read online this evening about how gas costs over $11/gallon in Turkey. I won't comment on how comparatively lucky we are here in the US with it costing $4.

2. The first week of October this year is apparently Mysteries Series Week. Must have a program -- although why they can't be celebrated in July when our theme for SRP is mysteries is beyond me.

3. Apparently (according to the people on the radio) giving children last names as first names has become the new trend. I won't mention the fact that people have been giving their kids last names for years -- My great-great grandfather's middle name was McClelland -- but we won't go there.

4. I have about 150 yards of freshly spun green (mostly) laceweight wool. Any ideas on what I can do with it?

Sometimes it makes you think

The other week, someone said something rather extraordinary to me (at least in my opinion). I was at choir practice, and I tend to bring muffins or cookies to practice as a little snack for everyone there. I also tend to bring my knitting (usually a sock) which I like to work on inbetween songs. Toward the end of practice, someone commented that I must be very talented, since I was able to knit socks AND make such great goodies.

At first it was flattering -- I'm glad people like my baking. But then I got to thinking. People think I'm very talented....because I know how to knit and bake?

When, exactly, did knitting and baking become such rare skills? As recently as fifty years ago, practically all women knew how to bake and knit (or crochet or some similar needlecraft). It was considered a given that she would have those two skills. When did the ability to loop string and combine sugar, milk, and flour together become so unique?

Personally, I blame the feminist movement. When women rebelled against the idea of staying at home, they rebelled against all the domestic skills that went along with it. It's a shame really. I'm not saying that the feminist movement was bad. Far from it. It gave women the power to choose what they wanted to do with their lives, which is great! But that doesn't mean that a woman has to give up all domestic abilities, just because she no longer HAS to stay at home. I am one of those rare people out there who believe that all people everywhere, whether man or woman, need to know how to sew a button on, mend a ripped seam, cook a basic meal (yes, muffins and cookies can be pretty basic), and have the knowledge and dexterity to knit and/or crochet at least a hat. Honestly. None of those things are really that hard.

But I'll still enjoy feeling flattered whenever anyone stares at me agog when I walk around carrying five really tiny knitting needles and magically creating footware with them.

Weather

Yesterday morning, I woke up, and it was raining. Today, I woke up, and it was raining. This is not good.

Don't get me wrong. I love the rain. Here in northern VA we certainly need it -- I don't think we've replenished the deficit from the drought we had last year, and I have a feeling this summer is going to be a little on the dry side too. So we can use all the raiin we can get.

But rain in the morning is not good. First of all, it makes me want to sleep in and spend all day in bed. Not an option when I am needed elsewhere (like work or church). Secondly, if it is raining, I cannot run. No, correct that. It's not that I can't, it's that I won't. It's no fun to run in the rain. I get wet enough as it is when it isn't raining that I don't need to get wetter. And it's darned uncomfortable when you have to wear wet clothes. So no running.

Why can't it ever rain when we're asleep?

These Things Come in Threes

I can't believe it's almost May already. Whatever happened to April? Time flies.

Anyway! Last week was the Flower and Garden Show. A friend and I went, even though it poured buckets. We had fun. We spent money.

The Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival is coming up this weekend.

The Green Valley Bookfair is coming up the weekend after that.

This spring is really going to be bad for my bank account. I can tell.

Little People

I was doing a program the other week for very young children. We're talking babies here. Under a year. Haven't mastered the art of stringing intelligible words together or walking upright. Most are just learning what the word "shhh" means, if they have any idea at all. So, needless to say, I wasn't expecting the kids to be perfect little angels. Kids that age have an attention span of about 3 seconds. Since I wasn't holding a bottle, a blanket, or a weird toy that jingled, if they look at me and smile for the duration of those three seconds, I consider that an accomplishment on my part.

One of the children was not being happy. He wanted to crawl around the room. Dad did not want him to, and insisted on baby sitting on his lap. Baby did not like this. He fussed, he cried, he fidgeted. In other words, he acted like a normal baby. Dad responded by covering baby's mouth.

I told the father that if his son wished to explore the room we were in, that was perfectly fine. He relaxed his vigilance, and the kid happily investigated. But I haven't seen father or son since, and I think the reason may have had to do with the fact that the father may have been a little embarrassed, because his child was the only one fussing. Which is a crying shame, really. This was a program for kids under the age of eighteen months. No child that age wants to sit still for 20 minutes and listen to some strange person sing songs -- even if they're silly songs. If little dude wants to crawl around the floor and mutter happy nonsense noises to himself, that's ok. I figure, as long as he isn't chewing another kid's pacifier, screaming at the top of his lungs, or hurting himself, he's fine. He's probably learning more than he would if he were sitting on Mom or Dad's lap being restrained while he fussed. At least now he's happy. And I'd much rather listen to a happy baby than a crying one any day.

The Harlot (see link on left-hand side) says this much better than I right now, so I encourage you to check out her blog. Babies are going to be noisy (in that respect, they aren't really that different from a lot of adults I know). They're going to fuss, they're going to scream, and if they're in a new and interesting place, they're going to want to explore. Let them. As long as they're happy and not hurting themselves or someone else, they're going to be fine.

It's like running

You ever notice how commitment is lacking in a lot of people? Tired of your hobby? Get a new one. Tired of your job? Get a new one. Tired of your house? Get a new one. Tired of your spouse? Get a new one. It's getting to be rather annoying, personally. Have we, as a society, become so lackluster in our emotions that we can't get our souls involved in anything anymore? So, it isn't fun anymore. So what? Is that why you did it in the first place? When you do something with all your soul (whatever that something is), you don't necessarily do it because it's fun, or because you're enjoying it. You do it because a) you know the prize at the end is more than worth the pain you're currently experiencing and b) you made a committment to do it, even if it's only to yourself.

I've started running in the mornings, a little bit each day. The goal is eventually to be able to run for 30 minutes straight. This week I'm running for five minutes at a time.

You never realize how long five minutes are until you actually try to run for that length. By the end of it, your lungs are on fire, and your legs are burning, and you're gasping for air, and you have stitches in your side. And on top of it all, I don't have the stop watch that tells me how long I've been running. My buddy has that. So in addition to being in pain and gasping for breath, you don't know how much longer it's going to continue. The only thing that keeps you going is the fact that you made a committment to run, and (provided you don't sprain your ankle or do something similar) you're going to see it through.

I know that eventually, I will obtain a fitter, slimmer body. Or at least, that is what I hope. And that is why I run. I don't run because I enjoy getting up early in the morning, nor do I do it because I enjoy gasping for breath or shooting pain up my legs. None of that is what I call "fun." It cerainly isn't what I would call a good time. But that isn't why I do it. I run because I know what I'll get out of it. But more importantly, I made the commitment to do so.

Just a thought.

Sunshine, Freedom, and a Little Flower

Today is the 203rd birthday of Hans Christian Anderson, and he was responsible for the title of today's post, when he said, "Just living is not enough...One must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower." Emerson (or quite possibly e.e. cummings) said something similar when he said "The earth laughs in flowers."

As spring is now upon us, and the pear and magnolia trees are in bloom (well, here anyway), it's a great little sentiment to remember as we look around us. I'm not a particularly big fan of spring, mainly because it means that summer will soon be upon us, and I'm not a hot-weather person, but no one can deny that this is probably one of the prettiest times of the year. Outside my apartment building, there are two cherry trees that are just beginning to blossom and a white dogwood tree that has just started to bud. Pretty soon, all three of them will be full of flowers. They will blossom and flourish for a couple of days, and then all too quickly, the warmer weather will be upon us. The blossoms will all be gone and replaced by green leaves. So, let's all breathe deep and enjoy the sights while they are around us.

Listen to the earth laughing.

Weirdly Normal

I was at Borders this past Friday with some of my buddies, and somehow (I don't recall what we were discussing, but I'm sure it was important), the topic of my knitting came up. One of my friends laughingly called me a "Knitting Fiend," much to the hilarity of the others there. I immediately corrected her by saying that I was not a fiend. That among my knitting friends, we prefered to be called "Fiber Fondlers."

Well, this got a similar reaction: slightly confused looks of incredulity, and some mildly hysterical giggles. Finally, A said, "I don't think I would ever willingly call myself anything that has the word fondler in it." The others immediately agreed.

I think I'm going to give up trying to explain myself to the non-knitters of the world. While many people look at me knitting and say, "Wow, that's so cool. I wish I could do something like that," there are equally large populations of people who look at me and say, "I can't believe she's doing that here," or "I can't believe she would spend so much time doing something like that."

So, I think I'm going to go out of my way to confuse them even more. Stephanie has said things much better than I in her blog regarding this, particularly in this entry, although it would be fun to read her next post about it (Grip Getting) as well, when she assigns all the posts. It could be just as interesting to do your sock pictures in other cities/towns/hamlets around the world if you wanted to.

This is such a great idea. Confuse the world! Take sock pictures! Be weirdly normal! It'll be so much fun.

Something to Think About

I read this article the other day -- about St. Patty's Day falling when it does this year. Apparently, according to liturgical rules, a mass for a deceased saint cannot be celebrated during Holy Week. This is causing certain dilemmas in various areas, because people now do not know when to celebrate the day.

You would think the Church would have taken care of this prior to now. I mean, given the fact that St. Patrick's Day always falls during Lent, I would think that those to whom this is an important issue would have foreseen this happening and discussed it already. Besides, the reason for celebrating the day at all is because it's the day St. Patrick died. I don't actually think the dude specifically chose this particular day to die. And even if he had, I don't think he was thinking, "Gee, 1600 years from now, people are really going to have issues with when they're going to be celebrate the day I die. Perhaps I should choose to die some other time."

Personally, I don't see what the big issue is anyway. I'm not Irish, and I don't see the point of celebrating the death of some guy who happens to be the patron saint of a country I can't claim. I mean, no one other than the Scots and the Russians celebrate St. Andrew's Day (Nov. 30), and only the French celebrate the feast day of Joan of Arc (May 30). Even St. Nicholas (Dec 6) has a limited following outside of Holland and Russia. And the Catholic Encyclopedia, while giving his feast day as April 23, can't even give an exact date for the death of St. George, the patron saint of England. So, why the big fuss about St. Patrick?

Any thoughts?

Hmmmm.....

Interesting article on CNN.com this morning. I wonder how many people are going to take it to heart. Personally, I think it's a good idea, at least to try.

There's So Much That We Share that It's Time We're Aware

There's this coffee shop in town. It's reasonably independent (there's another coffee shop with the same name in a nearby town, but as far as I know, these are the only two ones in the world) and small. It has a really nice atmosphere, and I like to go there reasonably often -- mostly to work on whatever knitting or writing project I'm working on at the moment.

Coffee shop knitting tends to be socks -- there isn't room in my purse for anything bigger. The interesting thing about it is that eventually, someone will look over at you and ask what it is that you're knitting. This sometimes leads to a conversation about knitting -- as well as other things -- because invaraiably, the person will be astonished that I can actually knit socks.

Several months ago, I struck up a conversation with a woman exactly this way -- I happened to be knitting socks, and she was curious about what I was making. It turned out that she (I'll call her J) was interested in knitting, and one thing led to the other, and pretty soon, we were exchanging e-mail. We've been in touch ever since.

Now, where it gets really interesting is that this past Sunday, I had stopped at the other coffee shop (the one in the nearby town) on my way home from church. I sat down at a table with my current sock and little notebook, and had started a round of knitting. All of a sudden, the women at the table next to me looks over and starts commenting about my knitting. She, too, was interested in knitting, and we started talking about meeting other people who like to knit. After several minutes, we exchanged e-mails. It turns out she has the same name as the previous woman I had met.

Now, what are the odds that I would go to two different branches of the exact same coffee shop and meet two completely different women with the exact same name, all because I happened to be knitting socks both times?

It's bizarre how small our world is.

Weather Report

It's raining right now. No, scratch that. It isn't just raining -- it's FREEZING rain. This is close to what it looks like outside the library window right now.....



And this is similar to what I am dreading how it will look later.



Now don't get me wrong. I'm all for winter weather. But the winter weather I like looks more like this.



And I particularly like to enjoy it like this



rather than like this, which is how I am being forced to do so today.



Grrr. Life would be so much easier if we didn't have to go places.

My Monthly Rant

There are a lot of things in the world today that annoy me. Grammatical errors made by the reasonably intelligent, bad weather when I have the day off, rodents under my kitchen sink, a plot line in my head that won't come together on paper, no matter how hard I try, and so on and so forth. I'm sure all of you have similar lists.

But you know what is really getting my goat right now? When you unintentionally do something that irritates/offends someone else, and instead of that person coming up to you and saying, "You know, I didn't like it when you did such-and-such. Would you mind not doing it again?" this person goes and tells all of his/her friends or coworkers about it, so that the first time you hear about it is when you get the mass e-mail that's been sent to everyone he/she knows.

I forgot to give something to one of my coworkers once. I didn't do it on purpose -- it just happened. I had every intention to give this person the item (I even had it in my hand and was just about to stand up and walk it over) when right then, things got rather busy, and I forgot all about the item in question. It ended up in my cubicle for about half an hour while I was at dinner. My coworker needed it while I was eating, and, not realizing where it was, was a little annoyed at the fact that she had to hunt it down. Then, instead of coming up to me later and telling me that she didn't like having to search for it, and could I please remember next time, she sent out a cranky e-mail to all of our coworkers, all of whom knew that I was the only person in the building who would have had the item. At no point did this coworker ever say anything to me about it.

So the next time someone does something to you that you don't like, don't just rant about it to everyone you know. Most likely the offense wasn't intentional (mine certainly wasn't), and if that's the case, the person probably had no idea that they did anything wrong. Talk to the person instead. Let them know that what they did bothered you. They probably won't get mad, and they'll probably even apologize and promise that they'll try to do better next time. But if you go and complain to everyone else first, the chances of you making up with this person are much much smaller.

My Own Two Cents

I read this book recently, which I thought was rather interesting. The plot was good, and the characters and the interplay between them were really cool. It was a book that I would recommend to a lot of my friends and coworkers.

Except for one thing.

The book was full of profanity. And I'm not talking about the occasional "Oh S***" here. Nearly every other word that came out of the main character's mouth was a swear word.

For example, the main character is keeping a blog about some of her experiences, and in it someone (I'll call him Bob) responds to one of the posts by asking if she could tone down on the profanity, saying that it doesn't really add to what is being said. Someone else (a relative of the protagonist) writes in later and says that she really is grateful for all the support the readers are giving, then finishes out her comment by saying (more or less), "Oh, and Bob, no one f***ing cares what you f***ing think, anyway."

Personally (and I've mentioned this snippit to some of my friends, and they think the same way), I agree with Bob. While I am the first to admit that I have on occasion inserted a colorful phrase here or there, I have to ask, does it ever really add anything to a conversation? If you constantly have to insert so many choice words into your speech, what does that say about you, or your ability to communicate?

Just a thought.

Wa-hoo!

I'd like to think that this is all because of my previous rant, but I know it's probably not true. Finally, someone has seen the light. Now if only they would do it for the Irish and Welsh as well.

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/world/us_and_americas/article3174884.ece

A Disturbing Discovery

I was reading my e-mail the other day when I came across this horrific discovery. Apparently, the powers that be at the Library of Congress have decided that books that have been written by Scottish authors are going under a new subject heading. Or, rather, they are being reassigned as a subsection of a pre-existing subject heading. And because the LOC is the largest library in the world, many other libraries are probably going to follow suit and classify their books in the same way.

That subject heading is now (are you ready?) English literature -- Scottish authors.

English literature, not British. This means that, were you to look up the collected works of Robert Burns, or RLS' A Child's Garden of Verses, or, for that matter, Harry Potter in the Library of Congress, you will find them all under English literature.

Does anyone else besides me see a major classification problem with this? I mean, how many times do people have to say that Scotland is not part of England for the rest of the world to realize it? No one at the LOC would even remotely entertain the idea of making a subject heading of Pennsylvania literature -- Massachusetts authors. Why? Because Massachusetts is not part of Pennsylvania. It never has been, and probably never will be. It's the same idea here. Scotland is part of Britain, yes, a part of the United Kingdom, yes, but it is not part of England. It never has been and most likely never will be. Likewise, England is not part of Scotland. They are two entirely different political entities, completely autonomous of each other. It's time the world FINALLY REALIZED THIS!

Grrr.

Oh, and they've done this with Irish and Welsh authors too.

Happy Holidays

I just wanted to post a little something to say that I hope everyone had a great holiday (whichever one you celebrate). Best wishes for the coming year!

Two Cents

I recently finished a book that I think was called The Julie & Julia Project. (If I am incorrect about the title, anyone who knows is free to correct me.) It's about a woman who decides to cook her way through Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking. She starts at one end of the book and goes to the other, cooking every recipe in it. No skips, no substitutions. And in a year, her goal was to finish the book.

My initial response as I started reading it was the same as my mother's when I told her what I was reading: "She'll be a pig!" I mean, really. French cuisine is to die for, but it's incredibly rich (that would be why it's so good). Cream, butter, eggs, cholesterol -- if it's fattening, chances are it's in French food. If I were to cook my way through one of Julia Child's cookbooks (not that I would, because I have neither the patience nor the time to try many of the recipes, but assuming I did), by the end of the project, I would have gained about twenty-five pounds.

But then I got to thinking. If eating so much French food makes you fat, how come there aren't a whole lot of des cochons running around France? I've been in France enough times to know that not everyone is fat, or even overweight. In fact, (now, granted, I don't know the exact statistic here), I would be willing to bet that there are proportionately less overweight people in France than there are over here on our side of the pond.

So what is it about the French? How come they're capable of eating (and cooking) all these decadent, sinfully good foods and still stay healthy? How is it they are able to refrain from turning into des cochons and we aren't?

Any thoughts?

Snaps

Yeah, I know it's been a while since I last posted, but I've been working on my pictures blog lately, so there you go. You're probably all checking that one vigilantly anyway.

Anyway, I would like to say that after putting three pictures from my trip up here, only two people have responded to guess what any of them are, and one of them didn't guess -- she just said she knew where they were. So :P to her -- she's spoiling all the fun. But, Kathy e-mailed me and guessed that the one photograph was of the chapel next to Holyrood Palace in Edinburgh. And she's right. It is a picture of Holyrood Abbey. King James V (among numerous other Scottish royalty) is buried there.

The other two photographs, by the way, were of Loch Ness (the foggy one) and Loch Lomond (the sunny one). I would highly advise going to all three locales.

Snaps for Kathy!

Isn't Fall Wonderful

It's doing that weird natural phenomenon called raining right now, so I'm taking advantage of the event. The other day, a couple of us went down to Harrisonburg to the Green Valley Book Fair, and we saw some really glorious sights as we drove down through the Shenandoah Valley, with the fall foliage in its glory. At one point after passing a particularly glorious tree, I made the comment that one of the most beautiful things nature can give us is a maple tree in the fall.

Did you ever stop to notice these spectacular trees? Every year, they "bloom" into gorgeous colors, almost as if they're on fire. Whether they turn yellow or red, they're simply breathtaking to behold.







*sigh*

And I'm Back

I just got home from a week's vacation in Scotland. It was truly a blast. (If you ever have the opportunity to travel to Britain, go. And preferably in the fall. It's definitely worth it.)

The thing that really amazed me was how incredibly rural the whole place was. Sure, Scotland has cities, and can be very built up in places; but for the most part, the land was so very undeveloped. Not empty or primitive in any way, but just incredibly bucolic and pastoral. There were places where you could go for miles and miles on end and not come across a town. Once you get away from the cities and out onto the moors, it's just amazing to see how much land there is. It was such a change from here in northern VA where it is all so built up and suburban. It was so great to get away from it all and just enjoy nature in its splendor.

Anyway, I took an amazing amount of pictures, and since the number is so great that I can't possibly e-mail them to you all, I am setting up a blog specifically for this trip so all of you can see them.

In the meantime, here is a preview of what will be on it. In fact, I'm going to make a game out of this :). Here is one of my photos:



And here is another:



And here is a third:



See if you can guess correctly what the photos are (they are from three different locations). I'll publicly recognize every person who can come up with the right answers. Have fun :)

Take the Time

You ever notice that whenever you ask someone how they are, they always say they're fine? And whenever anyone asks you how you are, you always say you're fine, even when you're not? One time someone asked me how I was doing, and, even though I had a horrific head cold, and I had had a really long day, and I just wanted to curl up in my bed and ignore the world for a day, I told this person I was doing just fine, thanks.

I was thinking about this earlier today, and the thought occurred to me that, even though we're taught at a relatively young age to be honest with others, we're all guilty of this lie at some point or another. We all say to someone that we're doing great, even when life has just handed us a huge batch of lemons. I think this comes from the fact that asking someong how he or she is has come to be second nature to us. It's kind of like saying Hi to someone. We ask this person how they are because it's been ingrained into us. Everyone else does it, so we do it too.

The other day, after a horribly rotten day at work, I went to choir practice, and two people came up to me and asked me how I was. Instead of the standard "Fine, thanks," I told them straight out that I had had a really bad day. Both of them immediately asked if there was anything they could do, and offered their support. I walked away thinking how wonderful it was to have friends who actually cared about how my day went.

My point (and I do have one, even though it sometimes takes a while to get around to it), is that I think we (and when I say "we," I mean society as a whole) need to get back to standard etiquette and not do things just out of instinct and habit. We need to take the time to listen to each other. If we ask people how they are, shouldn't we be genuinely interested in their answers? If you don't really care about what they have to say, then why in the world would you ask the question? No wonder we always say "Fine, thanks" whenever anyone asks us how we are.

So, let's all take the time to listen to others. If you aren't interested in how a person is feeling, or how his or her day went, don't ask. And if you do ask, take the time to listen to what he or she has to say. And if someone asks you the same question, be honest. Don't say you're feeling fine if you aren't. You don't have to go into all the details (I didn't with my friends at church), but if you aren't feeling well, say so. If you had a long day at work, mention that. A little bit of honesty and thoughtfulness can go a long way.

Pronouns and Apostrophes

Those of you who know me well know that I cannot stand grammar faux pas. Particularly those that break standard rules that SHOULD HAVE BEEN DRILLED INTO YOU IN GRADE SCHOOL!!!!! (If they weren't, there is something seriously lacking in your education.) This past week, I have come across three instances of the same mistake, and since they were all done by people who really should have known better (two of them were professional writers), it is time for a lecture.

Possessive pronouns DO NOT (do I need to repeat myself? DO NOT) have apostrophes. This is to differentiate them all from the contractions that these pronouns sometimes form with the verb "is." Possessive pronouns denote ownership of something and are sometimes used as adjectives that tell the reader who owns a particular item. No contraction. No apostrophe.

The big confusion on this is the word "Its." There are two words with these three letters in this order: "Its" and "It's." They are TWO DIFFERENT WORDS and have TWO DIFFERENT MEANINGS. Therefore, they are NOT interchangeable.

"Its" is a possessive pronoun, and is used to denote ownership: "That book has lost ITS cover." Here the word is being used to describe which cover has been lost.

"It's" is a contraction for "it is." It is a subject and verb together, as in: "It looks like IT'S going to rain today."

There's even a simple test to see which one you need: every time you are about to write down the word, say the sentence in your mind replacing the word with "it is" and see if it still makes sense. Let's continue with the above examples:

"That book has lost IT IS cover."
"It looks like IT IS going to rain today."

If the sentence makes sense, you need the apostrophe (IT'S). If it doesn't, you leave it out (ITS).

Does everyone see the difference?

Traffic Report

I live about ten miles from where I work, which gives me a little commute each day. When there isn't much traffic on the roads, it takes about 25 minutes to get to work. When there IS traffic (everyday it seems, now that school has started), it takes about 35-45 minutes to get to work each day. (Going home takes longer.) Luckily, I am able to carpool half the time, so that, at least, cuts down on my gas consumption.

Tuesday, L and I gave ourselves about 45 minutes to get to work. Plenty of time. About 2/3 of the way there, because we were making good time, we stopped for coffee. We were out in and out of the Starbucks in 5 minutes. We were about ten minutes from the library, and we had fifteen minutes until it opened. Still plenty of time. Until we ran into a huge bottleneck half a mile down the road, in which we sat for about ten minutes crawling along at a snail's pace, thus causing us to be a couple minutes late for work.

So, yesterday (that would be Wednesday), we decided to give ourselves a little more time and left for work 55 minutes before we needed to be there. A great idea. We made it about ten minutes down the road before we ran into another traffic jam. At first we figured that it was just a little road work, which has happened before, and that in a half a mile it would all open back up again.

But it didn't. Instead of opening back up, it got even tighter. It turns out there was a huge accident. We were detoured from a six-lane highway to a two-lane back road. For about forty minutes, we went absolutely nowhere. L was driving (she has a hybrid, thankfully), and when we looked at her energy consumption (one of the many cool things about a Prius is that you can do this), we realized that the car had not used any energy for about five minutes while we sat, completely still, on the road. Our fifteen minute grace period we had given ourselves disappeared, so that for the second time, we were late for work. This time, by about fifteen minutes. And to exacerbate the whole situation, we had two programs happening yesterday morning, made more complicated by the fact that three of us (another coworker comes from the same direction and got stuck in the same jam) were all late.

Life would be so much easier if we didn't have to go anywhere.

On the other hand, when you are spending 40 minutes sitting in a traffic jam, and someone else happens to be driving (please don't do this when YOU are driving), you can get about two inches of knitting done on when working with 115 stitches on size 7 needles.

Tedium and Pointlessness

I've just recently finished knitting a sleevless dress shell out of this beautiful blue acryllic yarn. The finished product is absolutely beautiful. It's sparkly, it fits well, and it's in a color that looks good on me. I worked the whole thing in the round until I got to the armholes, so with the exception of the shoulders, there are no seams. My favorite kind of project.

I wore it for the first time the day after I finished it. It looked well, but I noticed that it didn't hang completely straight in the back around the armholes. The way the pattern had indicated to make a selvage here was causing the edging to roll in on itself slightly.

No problem, I thought to myself. This will all be fixed when I block it. This is where I began to realize that I didn't particularly enjoy the project as I had originally. It's acryllic, which means that it has to be wet-blocked, and it's hand-wash only. Still, I tell myself that it's no big deal. I wash the thing and lay it out carefully, pinning it with the exact dimensions I want it.

And there it lay all weekend, drying into place like it was supposed to. Finally on Monday evening, I unpinned it and looked at it. It looked great. It was the right size. I was even able to fix a little pucker in the stitches that had occurred when I picked up the stitches for the neck. I was pleased.

And then, I put it on. At first, I didn't realize anything was amiss. Until I was at work. And I realized that despite the fact that I had followed the pattern exactly the whole way, the bloomin selvage was STILL rolling in at the armholes, meaning that it STILL was not hanging straight in the back. Moreover, in my attempt to block the armholes correctly, I had inadvertently increased the sizes slightly, causing the back to hang even less straight than it had originally.

I am ticked. I am annoyed. I am ready to curse the knitting gods. I just wasted an entire weekend doing a step on this particular piece that I didn't even have to do, because it was done in all one piece, and it turned out to be a huge colossal waste of time.

I hate blocking.

Here's Your Sign

I'm amazed at the ineptitude of some people. Truly, utterly amazed. And I don't know why I should be, really. I mean, I've spent most of my adult life working as a public service employee. You would think I would be used to meeting incompetent people.

But this really takes the cake. The other night, I was watching tv, and during commercials, there were these ads for those REALLY, INCREDIBLE MADE-FOR-TV items that everyone ABSOLUTELY HAS TO HAVE in order to make their lives better. Like a portable electric can opener, or knives that can go through dry wall, or gloves that can peel potatoes.

Now, I realize it can be difficult (not to mention time-consuming) to peel potatoes well. But Saturday night, I saw an ad for a photo slicer. Basically, all it was was a small paper cutter with tinted plastic that allowed the user to see exactly where the cut was going to go. I realize this can be useful (assuming it actually works), but the people they showed using this tool were using it because they couldn't make the same cut with scissors.

How hard, exactly, can it be to cut a straight line with scissors? In the ad, the people were struggling to cut photographs so they could go into a frame. It's not like they had arthritis, and it's not like they were cutting plain ordinary paper without a design. They appeared to be pefectly capable people. Cutting a photograph. With straight lines. And if worse came to worse, they could always flip the photo over and use a ruler to draw a straight line on the back.

*sigh* As Jeff Foxworthy (or whoever the guy is) would say, "Here's your sign."

Semantics, Schmemantics

Last night, I was sitting in a coffee shop, enjoying my caramel latte, and I happened to strike up a conversation with a woman sitting nearby, and we had a nice chat. I had brought with me a baby sweater I was in the process of making, and a journal in which I like to write my latest plot ideas, and had been working on both throughout the course of the evening. Halfway through my conversation with this woman, she, apparently noticing the sweater, asked me, "So, did your mother teach you how to crochet?"

The short answer to this question is, of course, yes. My mother did teach me how to crochet. I was five years old, and she thought it would be neat if I made a scarf for my sister.

However, since the project I was working on was knit, not crochet, I thought I might pause here in a moment of reflection and explain to all you non-woolly people out there the difference between the two. Be warned. It's about to get technical.

Crochet is made with a hook. If you are right-handed, you hold the hook in your right hand and the yarn in your left (don't ask me how you hold it if you're left-handed -- I don't know). You are only ever holding this one hook at a time. Ever. The basic crochet stich (some people call it a single crochet, others call it a double.) is based on something called chaining, and is made directly on top of the row of stitches, and creates a large, boxy-looking stitch. Think of building a wall with Legoes. You're placing one brick directly on top of another. When all you do, row after row, is this stitch, you produce thick, slightly wavy rows in the fabric. There is no casting-on in crochet. You simply chain the number of stitches you want, turn around, and work into the chain. When you're done, simply stop at the end of the row. There are two ways it is less complicated than knitting (I'm not going to say easier, because if I do, someone will call me on it). 1) Unless you are either making funky bobbles or working Tunisian style (neither of which I'm going to get into right now), there is only ever one stitch on your hook, making it marvelously easy to frog (ripping back in case of mistake). 2) Because there is usually only ever one stitch on the hook, there is no need ever to cast off. When you get to the end of a row and wish to finish, you can just stop.

Knit is made with needles . For back and forth knitting (I'm not going to get into working in a round), they come in pairs, and you're always holding two at a time -- your working needle and your holding needle. Most people hold their working needle in their right hand and the holder needle in their left. All the stitches in a row are on the needles, and the produced fabric hangs straight down from the needles as you work. The knit stitch is made from the side of the previous row. With Legoes, this time think of creating a staircase. Instead of placing the brick directly on top of the one below so that all six bumps are interlocking, place it so that only half the bumps are interlocking, and it looks more like shallow steps. The created stitch is short and vertical, and when you knit every row, you create horizontal ridges going across your fabric. When you're finished with a project, it's necessary to cast-off all your stitches (this can be a bit of a pain at times, and I'm not going to get into it here). The resulting fabric produces a slightly neater look than crochet, but frogging isn't nearly as easy, and can be downright irritatingly tedious at times.

I have probably now created more questions in your minds now regarding these two crafts, but at least now, I have given vent to my frustrations about this. Feel free to come to my Woolgathering class every other Wednesday afternoon if you wish to have a more hands-on lesson in the two techniques.

And now for something different

First off, an announcement: I am just about finished with the dratted pair of socks! I'm just about to begin the ribbing on the second sock! The heel has turned, the sock is fitting, everything is going beautifully. Wahoo!

And now for a review of the latest book I've read.

Over the weekend, I read the book First Light by Rebecca Stead. The book alternates between the view points of its two main characters -- Thea and Peter. Peter is the son of two scientists who have taken him to Greenland with them on an expedition to study Global Warming. Lately, Peter has begun to suffer from severe headaches, similar to the ones his mother has, and he has begun to see things that others do not. Thea is the last female in the First Line of ancestors who originally settled Gracehope, a community located underground in the middle of Greenland's ice cap. Lately the community has begun to outgrow the space where it is living. Thea is anxious about the possibility of exploring the surface above them to look for more space, and when she and her friend Mattias find a way up, they run into Peter, who is out exploring the area around his parents' camp. After Thea and Mattias return underground, Thea learns a disturbing secret about her mother that her family has kept from her throughout her life, but just as she discovers it, Peter arrives with his mother, who apparently is Thea's aunt who had been banished from Gracehope years before by Rowen, Thea's grandmother, who has refused to allow anyone to go to the surface out of fear of the persecution that drove community underground in the first place. After a climactic showdown between Rowen and Thea, the novel ends relatively happily. But the readers are left with the question of what the long-term effects of Global Warming are going to be on Gracehope, and how much time there is before the cap melts and the community falls into the ocean.

It was a captivating read. I finished the book around 12:30 at night because I simply couldn't wait until the next morning to find out what was going to happen next. There were enough twists and turns in the plotline to keep me interested, although the intelligence and technological adeptness of the Gracehope citizenry stretched my mind at times.

Anyone who has read and enjoyed Jeanne DuPrau's City of Ember, or Lois Lowry's Gathering Blue would enjoy this novel.

Gauge (or Weird Inexplicable Math Phenomena)

A coworker of mine has asked me to teach her how to knit socks. I am thrilled with this request. I couldn't be happier. So, (because I can't possibly part with stuff from my own stash) I have bought her two skeins of microspun acryllic and a set of size 1 needles (for you people who are used to the Metric system, I think it's somewhere around 2 mm). But this means, of course, that I need to be making a set of socks at the same time. So, when I bought the microspun, I also bought two skeins of a cotton blend yarn that I could make in to socks for myself.

So I cast on the cotton and began my ribbing. All is going well. And after the inch and a half of ribbing, I begin my pattern. Then, after about three inches, I take a good look at what I've accomplished. And I realize that for some reason, even though I got gauge with this pattern (7.5 stitches/inch), this sock is not going to fit.

I decide to adjust my stitch count and needle size. I also decide to do something I've never done before -- knit the sock toe-up -- in an effort to get a better fit. I rip out my previous attempt (a thousand curses -- that pattern was beautiful), shrink the stitches from 60 to 56, go down a needle size, and begin a different pattern.

After about two inches, I realize that the bloomin' thing is still too big. I don't understand this. The gauge gods must be having a huge laugh at my expense. My ankle is 8 inches around. I'm knitting (now) at a gauge of 7 stitches to an inch. 56 stitches should be the perfect number. But it isn't.

So I rip it back (again), cursing the gauge gods as I go. At least at this point, I don't have to rip it back the whole way, just to where I started increasing for the toe, and try again at 48 stitches.

This time, it works. (Hallelujah!) I continue with my pattern up the foot to the heel. But here, another problem arises. I misjudge how much I need to knit before starting the heel (even though I'm basing everything on another sock) and start the heel way too early. As a result, I have to rip the stupid heel back twice before finally getting one that will fit me.

I am over the heel now and have begun working my way up the leg. And the sock is still fitting. *phew* Now that I have gotten the hang of this thing, I think perhaps I will knit all my socks starting with the toe ;)

But never for someone else. Never ever for someone other than me.

Socktopia

The other week, I read in a blog that I have linked to on my site (see Yarn Harlot for more information) about someone who is capable of recruiting knitters like flies to honey. She has discovered a knitting project where you are only given a little bit of the pattern at a time, and was encouraging others to join the project as well. When I read the blog, I laughed out loud at S's (she would be the yarn harlot, not the person who had originally discovered the pattern) weak will to resist this person. The idea of becoming completely vulnerable to a pattern project like this seemed hysterical to me.

The wool gods, it seems, have a sense of humor. This morning, I came across the blog Socktopia. It is a project where the blogger (and all her fans) knit a socks for a month that are all based on a certain theme. Last month, the theme was Harry Potter, and the blogger provided three socks based off of the different novels (one was based off Nagini -- I'm not entire sure of the reasoning behind this). This month, the theme is Mystery sock. Every Monday, a new part of the pattern is given out, so that by the end of the month, the knitter would have finished the socks.

Socks. Socks are my absolute favorite thing in the world to knit. They go fast (I can usually do a pair in a week), they're portable (a sock on the needles fits into my purse quite nicely), they're small (which means you can knit them any time of the year and won't get hot), they're versatile (you can do pretty much anything you want in the design), they're cheap (even with high-quality wool, the cost of the yarn is relatively miniscule because they don't use much yarn), they're always needed (if made correctly, a sock is the only hand-knit item that is made to wear out), and they're conversation starters (people tend to be fascinated by the fact that I can knit them). I never need an excuse to knit socks. Never mind the fact that knitting on tiny needles aggravates my carpal tunnel, or that anyone can buy perfectly good socks at Wal-Mart for mere pennies. From the first hand-knit socks that I slid onto my feet, I was hooked. There is no way I will ever be able to stay away from this blog.

The blog's website is http://socktopia.net. Anyone can join anytime. It was originally designed to go through the end of the year, but it's been extended through next year as well. And if you knit fast, you can go back and work on the old monthly projects also.

The Last Book -- Spoiler Alert!

On Saturday afternoon, I stepped out of my apartment door and picked up the copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows that I had preordered from Amazon and immediately started reading. It took me about 8 hours, and I finished a little bit after midnight. I know that I am going to have to reread it at some point, because I was so all fired up to get to the ending that I know that I skimmed over a lot of points. But all in all, I thought it was a really good read.

I would, however, like to respond to a few things that have been mentioned in someone else's blog regarding this book.

First of all, yes, I will admit that the epilogue is a little too cheesy. But guess what folks? That's how JKR intended it to be! She wrote that chapter way back in the early days when she was first writing Philosopher's Stone. And while she may have changed a few details along the way, it's the way she wanted the entire story to end. I agree that it's a little pat (and yes, I wanted to know a little bit more about a few of the characters), but I'm not going to gripe about it. It's the way she wanted it written.

Secondly, this person mentions (and I quote) "Where's Alan Rickman's big death scene? Does JKR want to deny him his Oscar?"

Ummm. Excuse me? His death scene? First of all, his character does get a death scene, and (in my own humble opninion) it's pretty cool too. Secondly, since when is it the responsibility of an author to determine how much screen time an actor receives? JKR wrote the book for which the movie will be based, not the other way around. It is not her job to change the way she originally intended the story to end just because we happen to like one of the actors that plays one of the major characters. Moreover, she has always maintained that HP came to her pretty much fully formed while she was riding the train one day, and that was way back in the early nineties. Over fifteen years ago! Back then, AR was the Sheriff of Nottingham, and JKR had no idea that HP was going to a successful story, let alone become the basis for seven major blockbusters. And the fact that she had written the epilogue at the very beginning leads me to believe that the way that she deals with this particular character in the book is the way she had always intended it. Besides, even if she did take the different actors and actresses into account when she finished the book, I personally liked the way she dealt with this character, because I think that it's the only way she could have dealt with him that we readers (let alone Harry) would have found believable. And if AR is half the actor I know him to be, he's going to pull off that scene REALLY, REALLY well.

(Let's just hope that the director is going to think so also.)

And Now, a Lesson in Math

So today, having slept in and dilly-dallied to the point where I didn't have time to pack my lunch, I had to go out to grab a bite to eat. So, at around 12:30, I trecked out into the heat to go to the nearby Subway two doors down. I ordered a sandwich combo and paid for my meal. As I started to walk away, I realized the woman hadn't given me my cup, so I asked for one.

Her: "Oh, that's for the combo."

Me: "Yes, that's what I ordered."

Her: "Oh. I guess I'm going to have to ring you up again."

(Now, personally, if this were me behind the counter, I would have just forked over a cup. I mean, it was my mistake, so I would be willing to pay for it, but I won't complain. I allow the woman behind the counter to ring me up again.)

Her: "Now, I charged you $5.53 for your sandwich and cookies, and the combo is...let's see....$6.60

Now, when she tells me this, I reach into my purse for my $1.07 to pay the difference.

Her (continued, pulling out an old receipt to do the math): Let me think here... I'll have to subtract it from this... (??) So, so that's....that's...that's...$1.10.

Now, I will admit, that I am not the world's greatest mathematician. I failed my high school trig exam (although I will contend to this day that it was because the teacher tested us on things he said wouldn't be on the test, and then accused us of not studying), and it takes me half a morning just to balance my checkbook, but this is pretty fundamental, even for the numerically challenged, like me. And while I will also admit that it was obvious that this woman behind the counter had a primary language other than English, I've never known numbers to change just because you don't speak the language your patron is speaking as fluently as she/he does. I mean, that's one of the beauties of math. Numbers don't change. 6 minus 5 is one. It has always been one, and it will always be one. 60 minus 53 is seven. It has always been seven, and it will always be seven. Therefor, 6.60 minus 5.53 is 1.07. It's really not that hard. It has always been that way, and it will always continue to be that way. And while I'm not one to begrudge anyone three cents, it's still three cents that I'd rather not part with (and besides, if she had been the one short, she would have demanded that I fork over the three pennies)

Me (slapping the extra $1.07 down on the counter): Actually, it's $1.07.

Her (a bewildered look on her face): It is? (a pause) I guess maybe it is....

Sigh. Some people. Incidentally, if you're interested in some additional math humor, please check out the link below.

http://www.yarnharlot.ca/blog/archives/2007/06/27/the_way_things_are.html

New Books, Old Series

I am one of the few people on this planet who has not yet read any of the LOTR books. And I haven't seen any of the movies either, because, well, I tell myself that once I've read the books, I'll see the movies, but I don't want to see the movies before I've read the books. But at this point, I'm not sure when either one of them is going to happen.

People look at me strangely when I tell them this, but in all honesty, I really did try. When I was a senior in college (that was the year Return of the King was released in theatres), I sat down to read Fellowship of the Ring.

I read a couple chapters, and put it down. I just couldn't get into it. A few months later, I picked it up again and managed a few more chapters before setting it aside again. People tell me that I put it down just when it gets interesting, but I just haven't had any interest to pick it back up.

But at least I don't pretend that I know all there is to know about the trilogy. I dated this guy in college who contended that he was a big Harry Potter fan. And at first glance, I guess he was. He was familiar with many of the characters, believed that any book that got kids to read was fantastic, and found the charges against the books of witchcraft to be ridiculously ubsurd. He even gave me a book talking about religious symbolism in the books. That aside, at the time that we broke up, I don't know that he had once read a single one of the books. Everything he knew about the series, he knew from the movies.

Now, granted, at the time we were dating, The Order of the Phoenix was just about to come out, so the movies weren't that far behind the books. And I'm sure that, in the four plus years that have passed since we have gone our separate ways, he has probably read a few of the books. But still, really.

This is all prelude to my discovery this past weekend that there actually are human beings on this earth who have yet to read a few of the HP books. One of my coworkers has just begun reading the series with the intention of getting it read by the time the seventh book comes out. Hmmm.

BTW, does anyone have any cool ideas about what to do for a Harry Potter party for 8-12 year olds?

Enablers

When I was in high school, we were studying the concept of alcohol addiction in health class, and the teacher discussed the idea of an "enabler." An enabler, according to him, was someone who defended and/or protected the alcoholic, like making excuses for him/her, and in the process sometimes encouraged the person to drink more.

I have come to the conclusion that alcoholism is not the only addiction that has enablers. Two days ago, I was at church, and a friend of mine came up to me and said, "If the guy at the yarn shop calls me today, would you like to go this afternoon?"

Dangerous words to a compulsive knitter. I mean, really, my stash is already taking over the living room, and I have so many projects on the needles that I'll be knitting for the rest of my life. I don't need an excuse to go to a yarn shop, and when I do, I always end up spending far more than I ever have the money for. And yet, when she called me later that day, of course I went. I mean, really. It's a yarn shop.

So we went, and I spent far too much money, mainly because, in the process of looking for something I can knit for my father, S picked up this variegated blue wool, held it up to my face and said, "Since you're not looking for yourself, I won't tell you how good you look with it." She then preceded to pull me over to a nearby mirror and show me. It was the perfect color. I was hooked. I, who had planned on getting some soft alpaca for my dad's sweater, and two skeins of soy yarn to make into socks, listened to S, who said, "Your father can wait. Get this for yourself," forgot completely about the alpaca and picked up the blue wool. It is now on two needles at home, and is going to be made into a ribbed sweater.

S is my enabler. She feeds my addiction for all things woolly, and I, of course, am helpless to defend myself against her. And she will remain my friend for life.

Oh, and I got the two skeins of soy for the socks, too.

My Things

There's been some questions, and it's been a while since the 23 Things started, so I thought I should probably explain to people who haven't been following what exactly I'm talking about. At work, there's been the initiative to introduce new technologies to all of us. It's called Learning 2.0, and it has 23 steps ("Things") for people to do. The premise is that we would do each step, and then blog about it to show that we actually did it (creating a blog was actually one of the steps). I completed all 23 of them back in April, but I've decided that since I did a lot of them just to say I did them, I'm going to go back and do some of them over again. This way, I can get more experience with them, and know what it is that some of my patrons are talking about when they come up and start throwing weird technology words at me :) And plus, it's fun!

If you are interested in learning more about these various and sundry steps, you can check out the link below (hopefully it works. copying and pasting might be necessary)

http://www.learningatlcpl.blogspot.com

A New Pattern

I bring in my knitting to work so I can work on it during my lunch break. The past two weeks, I finished two pairs of socks. Of course, I didn't use up all of my yarn, so I'm going to have to start another pair pretty soon. I just can't think of anything else that I can use with this particular yarn when I only have two skeins. But in the meantime, I've started with a sweater that will be a Christmas present to someone this year. (I'm only doing this because the needles required are larger and are not as horrendous for my carpal tunnel. The socks will return soon.)

Some of my coworkers think that the fact that I can string loops of yarn through other loops of yarn is just down right the coolest thing since sliced bread (although they would never think to ask me to teach them how to do it). The problem is that a few others also know how to knit (and are just as fiber-obsessed as I am, if not more so). One of them has given me a dilemma. She has this pattern for what she calls a "Probability Scarf." You take six different types of yarn, preferably in six different colors, and assign each one a number. Then, knit every row with a different color, rolling a die to find out which one you want to use. She says that this a great way to use up leftover yarn.

This is a problem for me. I had already thought that that was what socks were for. Now I have another way to use up my leftovers. Oh dear. Oh, the combinations I could come up with when doing a project like this...

A new thing whatever number this is...

I chose this particular image, just because it looked homey and nice. While I'm not an overly huge coffee fan, I thought it creates a nice picture. And you can use your own imagination over what it's never too late for...

A New Thing 7

So, after I spent about twenty minutes trying to figure out how to create a trading card for myself (and it's a really bad picture of me, because it was a little small, so when it was uploaded into the trading card, the resolution got messed up), I was now confronted with the challenge of figuring out how to schedule things in the meeting room, and now I am confused again. *sigh* Blasted software applications.

This reminds me of a conversation I had once when I was in college. The guy I was dating at the time was (and I suppose he still is) really into computer science and software stuff. I, while not averse to new technology, still harbor a fondness for the not-so-cutting-edge. My parents had a typewriter that they were allowing me to use, and I was taking advantage of the opportunity. I can still remember David's response when I mentioned this to him: "Why on earth would you be using a typewriter? They're so archaic!"

I didn't mention to him that typewriters are healthier for you. Studies have shown that, because of the way they are forced to hold their hands as they type, people who type using manual typewriters are less likely to develop carpal tunnel than people who do not.

Thing 6 Again

Ah-hah! I think I have done it!

A New Thing 6

Wild Wineberries Drained
Originally uploaded by jjfbaltzell

I tried finding this picture with Flickr Color Pickr, but I've come to the conclusion that that particular tool is really just for browsing rather than looking for a specific image. In the meantime, I'm attempting to have some fun with Trip Planner in an effort to add the hundreds of pictures that I'm going to be taking on my vacation to Europe this fall. I also played around with Spell with Flickr, but wasn't able to figure out how to publish the images. If anyone else knows how, let me know. I'm confused.

But back to this picture. When I was a child, we had a large wineberry bush in our backyard. We also had a couple of black raspberry bushes, in other parts of our yard. I mentioned this at work yesterday (I don't remember what we had been discussing earlier)and received a myriad of blank stares. What in the world were wineberries? Were they a cousin to grapes? Did I possibly mean raspberries?

No, I insisted. Wineberries are a completely different berry than raspberries. They are the same approximate size and shape as black raspberries, but they're bright red and tarter in taste. Its foliage is also fuzzier (and therefore have less thorns) than the foliage of raspberries.

In the picture, the dark berries are black raspberries (I'm assuming. Since I don't know the person who posted this picture, I can't just call him/her up and ask.) The bright red ones, even though they may look like red raspberries, are wineberries.

Since I moved away from home, however, I have been hard pressed to find a good wineberry bush. Does anyone know where they might be found? What about any good recipes? It would be neat to bring something into work for all of my coworkers who have never heard of this delicious food.

In which I decide to go back and do a couple of the 23 things over again...

Peaceful meadow
Originally uploaded by santi_rf

Way back in April, I went for a drive, got completely and utterly lost in the Maryland countryside and ended up in Sharpsburg. (For those of you who are not big on American history, Sharpsburg is the site of a major Civil War battle also known as the Battle of Antietam.) Since I was there, I decided to take advantage of the National Park Service facilities and have a look around. At one point in the park, visitors have the opportunity to climb a tower that offers a nice view of the battlefield and the surrounding countryside. It was a relatively dreary spring day, the park was quiet, and it had been misting off and on all afternoon, so as I stood up in that tower and looked out at the history around me, I had the good fortune of being the only human within eyesight of the structure. Depending on where in the tower you happened to be standing, you could look out and see absolutely nothing that told you that anything of any historical significance ever took place. No houses, no stone monuments, no cannons. Just rolling hills and South Mountain.


Now, you're probably wondering what in the world this has to do with the above picture. Well, as I was looking out over misty Maryland countryside, I was able to hear the mooing of several bovine who were milling around in some nearby farmland. These bovine were not visible from the tower, but it was a really euphoric experience to stand there in the tower and listen to the gentle mooing sounds. In a time when suburban development and McMansions are sprawling all over the place (at least in my neck of the woods), speed limits are always ignored (even by me, I admit it), and it's virtually impossible to go anywhere and see pure, unadulterated countryside, it was an amazing experience just to be the only human around, standing there in the rain and listening to the cows. What an amazing natural high.

Thing 23-- Wahoo!

I can honestly say that I enjoyed this discovery journey. There were, of course, some things I enjoyed doing more than others, and some things that I did not enjoy doing at all. But over all, I believe that it was an enjoyable experience.

When I started the different exercises, I began with every good and perfect intention of doing each step on time (which didn't happen) and learning from each one (which did). Later on through the experience, as the winter months progressed, even when I was getting squeezed with a variety of pressing engagements, I decided that, despite the fact that I thought the various steps were coming a little too quickly, I would press on, simply because I wanted the MP3 player at the end of it all.

I don't know how many of the things I learned I will keep up on later. Some I have continued to use on a regular basis, and some I have not. I think that will be the same for everyone, but I'm glad I had the opportunity to experience new technologies, regardless of how much I enjoyed them, or how much I plan on using them in the future. (At least now, I know what a lot of them are, and whether or not they're useful to me.)

There will never be an end to the acquisition of knowledge. We will all continue to learn new things and to pass on that knowledge to others (after all, isn't that part of what being a librarian is all about?). The day we cease to learn, we cease to live.

And so, in the immortal words of Winston Churchill, this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. Let us press on, learning as much as we possibly can, and in doing so, live life to its possible fullest.

Thing 22

I've never been an overly huge fan of audiobooks. If you want to look at a particular passage more closely, you have to rewind or go back to the previous section, and it's much more cumbersome than simply making your eyes scan up a few lines. And no matter how good of a reader the narrator is, for me, the dialogue always sounds better in my own mind.

That aside, like podcasts, I can understand why many people think they are superneat. Maybe after I get my MP3 player, I'll end up listening to them more. I did come across several books on NetLibrary that I wouldn't mind reading at some point.