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.)