Kvetching Up

Sue me.

2011-02-12T13:19:00.004-05:00

I am one of those people who firmly believe in the power of the Muses. Or am at least willing to use them as a good excuse for doing what I want to do. If I need to sing, I sing (one of my few talents), even if I'm in the middle of a store and get funny looks. If I don't feel like knitting, I don't force myself. If I don't have an urge to write, ditto. That's just how I roll.

The trouble is, not having written anything for awhile, I then feel the need to explain myself, as if some one of my gentle readers out there was holding his/her breath until I wrote again. Well, ya know? Probably not. So...I've been reading, knitting baby things for my upcoming grandson and working. Not the stuff of exciting blog posts.

But today, a friend pointed me toward some words I'd not read before, and they struck me as so profound I knew I wanted to have them up where I could draw strength from them whenever I wanted. I used them to create an image, placing them on a background of my own creation. Then I thought I would share it here. Enjoy.

One-Eyed Jack

2010-11-03T10:34:00.004-04:00

We woke this morning to find that Jack had crossed the Rainbow Bridge. After the last bug they all had, it was like he just decided to go. We realized he wasn't eating as much, but Jack had never been the foodie that Benny is. It wasn't until he was groomed that we realized just how much weight he'd lost, because he always had one of the thickest coats I'd ever seen on a Scottie.

He kept scaling back on what and how much he'd eat, and when he refused his favorite treat of an apple, I knew he was going. I wanted him to be able to do it on his own terms, at home, if at all possible, and that's what he did.

Jack loved snow, as Scotties do, and was so content to burrow in it, eat it, and come in caked in ice balls. This photograph of him was taken February of this year, after the second of our three blizzards. As long as the DH dug out a space for the necessities, the dogs were all happy, but none more so than Jack.

Jack had a lot of nicknames, because he had so much personality. Doodlebug, for the flying Scottie way he loved to lay down. Apple Jack, after as a puppy he tried, without invitation, to help Tara eat her apple. Jack of Hearts for the way he'd burrow into my lap on cold days. Jack was the grand old man type of Scottie, and as our groomer said today, she became a Scottie lover because of his personality.

Jack will never be cold again, but our world is much colder without him.

It Gets Better

2010-10-22T10:55:00.003-04:00

I'm not a woman who makes friends easily. My concept of friendship is not exchanging statuses on Facebook, much as I enjoy it. I think real friendship is deep and rare, so while I have a lot of friendly relationships, I have a handful of real, true friends. A few of them I've never met in person, or may only have met a few times, or may not have seen for years, but the kind of friendship I mean survives all of that. We're involved with one another.

Thing is, I never know when one of these friends is going to appear in my life - or sadly, disappear. Some of the best friendships I've had in my life have been utterly unexpected, and completely by chance. My senior year in high school, my choral group was doing back to back performances, first at a mall, then at a garden club. One of the other members of the group wasn't feeling well, and since my little Toyota had reclining seats, I invited her to ride with me so she could lay back. During that twenty minute ride and conversation, we founded a friendship that lasts to this day. I'd known her a couple of years, thought her nice, envied her talent, but happenstance made us friends, and made my senior year much richer.

I got pregnant with my first daughter about two months after we landed in England. I knew almost no one, I was 19, and my husband was a fighter pilot who would be gone for days and weeks at a time. An enlisted man's wife befriended me, loaned me baby clothes, taught me to crochet, shared my love of reading, and helped shepherd my mom to tourist sites when she came over for the birth. We haven't seen each other in about 27 years...and when we talk or email, it's like it was yesterday.

And then there was Witt, whose larger-than-life presence showing up with Gary to surprise me at my studio made my life so much richer that just thinking of him evokes tears of gratitude as I type. He'd recently moved, left a lot of his comfort zone over an hour's drive away, and we needed and loved one another. We met because he happened to mention on a knitting forum that he'd moved fairly close to where I live, and I said so...and we started to email. He realized immediately that I not only didn't mind that he was gay, but that I was very accepting of him and Gary. So accepting that when they decided to do a commitment ceremony, they asked me to do the service, and DH, who loved them both too, to be their photographer. They only had about a year and a half together after that, but I think they were more content for having made the public commitment.

My point here is, I never knew any of these people were around the corner for me. Brilliant Goddess tho' I may be, I have no crystal ball, no foresight, to know the deep happiness they would bring. They made my life better, but I didn't know they were out there.

I've been in abusive relationships, first with my father who was both mentally and physically abusive, and then with my first husband, who tore me to shreds verbally (and often publicly) and withheld affection. There were many tear-filled nights and days, some of which I spent wondering why I went on.

But it got better. I grew stronger, in spite of and because of what I went through. I grew stronger because of people I really admired who thought I was special enough to want to befriend me. I grew stronger when I found the man I thought was the best person I ever met actually loved me. And if those things can happen to me, they can happen to you. But you have to be here! Borrow a little of my faith in you if you have none of your own, and believe it will get better. Believe there are those of us willing to help, willing to stand up, willing to love you for exactly who you were born to be.

Believe. It gets better.

What Opinions Are Like

2010-09-28T12:58:00.004-04:00

You know the quote, I'm sure. I got reamed for an opinion I expressed on a list I own, MMarioKKnits. A dear friend of several years' standing asked if I were attending a fiber show this coming weekend, after we crossed wires with me thinking that she was coming to one I went to on Sunday.

The show to which she's referring is about a three hour trek - admittedly through beautiful countryside - from my home. We first met face-to-face at this show two or three years ago. Anyway, I told her that DH and I would not attend that show, because we found it very disappointing. Leaving aside that there were not many vendors, there was no where to sit and eat, or just sit, porta-potties are the only amenities, and there is ZERO shade. For your fair-skinned delicate Goddess, this was hell, boys and girls. That year everything was liberally covered in dust, but rainy weather would be difficult too, because everything is in a field and tents, with no walkways.

So in response to my friend, I said no, we wouldn't be there, it was too far FOR US to travel for a show with no seating, no shade, etc...finishing with the fact that it was small. I felt this made it clear that it was the distance for small return that was the issue, and that it was a personal choice based on those factors.

Then I got hauled over the coals. Rather than paraphrase, I'll just give you the actual response I sent to her, quoting her email. Her name is redacted just so I won't get reamed for that too. The only part to which I responded that I did not quote was where she informed me that comparing two Fiber Festivals was comparing apples and oranges. No idea why, but that's what was said...

Wow, XXX. If you're going to spank me, at least buy me dinner first!
But in the interest of fairness, I will respond politely and point by point.

> SVFF is, as you mentioned, relatively new. It was fortunate to land in
> the Clarke County fairgrounds. That means: permanent buildings, a food
> preparation area, and a seating area for folks who have purchased food.

You call it fortunate, I call it good planning. I should add that I
have no affiliation with any of the fiber shows. But I can't see how
comparing two regional fiber shows is comparing apples to oranges. They
are the same thing!

> It is also quite spread out for its size, and the bathrooms are quite a
> way from the main gate (exception being the two porta-potties I found) -

Um...no. You should have looked at the map back on your program. There
are restrooms (aside from portapotties, which require desperation on my
part - rank, cramped and hot!) at five locations at SVFF, one set of
which is just off to the left after you enter, next to the sheep barn.

> Saturday was quite warm, especially
> inside the permanent buildings. We kept trying to find places where the
> air was moving (and not the stinkbugs).

Since weather is beyond the control of any festival, as are insects, I
can't see much point in this for comparison. Fortunately yesterday was
perfect weather.

> Fall Fiber Festival (Montpelier) is a bit smaller in number of vendors,
> but it is also not spread out all over the place. Once you get to the
> tents, it is easy to walk from one to the next.

Once you do get to the tents...quite a hike from where I had to park.
There were far fewer vendors, what they had was very limited, and I
reiterate, there was no where at all to sit down, not even so much as a
few hay bales. There is NO shade anywhere, and as a very fair-skinned
person, I was quickly miserable to the point of illness.

> Some vendors have been
> coming for years and obviously think it is worth it, and we look forward
> to seeing them every year.

Good for them. I'm glad they and you enjoy it. What I said was it was
not worth the trip to my husband or I, traveling the three hours there
to spend effectively maybe an hour looking at what little was there.
Then turning around and driving three hours back...however much we
enjoyed getting to meet (my friend).

> As for dust - we've been having plenty of
> rain this week and Friday promises to be dry and sunny, so the weekend
> should be quite nice.

Trouble is, there are no walkways there. If it's rained, you'll get
muddy. It it's dry, you'll get dusty. It's just not a great venue in
my opinion.

> The portapotties are quite accessible.
>
See above. Ick.

> There are
> honest -to-gawd sheepdog trials all weekend (not just demonstrations).

Nice, but not why I attend fiber festivals.

> I look forward to FFF every year and I hardly find it "miserable".
>
Good for you.

> This was my second year at SVFF (and you should have at least mentioned
> the deluges we experienced last year, btw).
>
I didn't go last year. The person I had planned to attend it with died,
and I hadn't the heart. At least much of the venue is undercover,
though. If it 'deluged' at FFF, I'd be afraid cars (and shoes!) would
get stuck.

> To me a fiber show with good vendors is a spiritual experience
> and I go to as many as I can.
>
I think spiritual experience is stretching it for me, but I do enjoy
them. I certainly have moments when I cry "O, God"...like yesterday
when I first felt the black alpaca yarn I bought.

> But I appreciate each one for what it is
> and I don't dump on another festival that obviously offers what people
> are looking for.
>
XXX, I spoke for myself (and my DH) about why we wouldn't be there.
After traveling so far to go, I was dreadfully disappointed. They
didn't offer what _I_ was looking for, either in product or amenities,
and I hardly purchased anything. If you feel that an honest opinion -
and facts where it wasn't opinion - is dumping, I have to disagree. I
hope you have a great time there.

So, I was polite, yes? Oh, goodie. And yes, I'm just anal-reten...I mean, desirous enough of being accurate to count vendors for both shows this year. The one I attended is has 86. The other has 55, so my perception is not off. I should add that many of those vendors are duplicates from the two shows I have already attended this year, so pretty much, I've seen their wares.

Yet again, I don't understand why people have to get all huffy over a matter of opinion. She's happy with the show? Wonderful. But that's no reason why I should think her experience trumps mine. She has not, to this point, responded to me. I'd just as soon she didn't. I have a new set of idiots to deal with at work today, but more on that later.

I Know It When I See It

2010-09-14T13:48:00.004-04:00

Art that is, not porn. Okay, that too, but that's beside the point which you don't know because you have no idea what the point is.

Maybe I should start over, but I'm too lazy after I typed all that, so onward.

For the last several years, a good client of ours has brought her young daughter's artwork to me, and asked me to create cards for various seasons for her. The first was a construction paper Christmas tree with Fruit Loop ornaments. A miniature of that became the logo for the back of all their folding holiday cards. For things like Halloween, I do 4x6 prints, she slaps on a postcard back, and sends them out.

This year, they want to use a shot from the blizzard last February for the Christmas card, but their daughter's art work was the basis for two cards, Halloween and Thanksgiving. I think you'll be able to tell what is her art, and what is my enhancements.

Her mother professes herself thrilled, and since she paid me, I guess she meant it. By the way, I'm pretty sure her spider is tap dancing. Even more impressive when you realize he has to coordinate eight legs, right?

Long Time We No Get Drunk Together

2010-08-24T17:01:00.006-04:00

A quote from one of my uncle Harry's favorite movies, McClintock. Yes, I've been quiet. Sue me. A lot of stuff has been going down.

Eldest daughter is still struggling. We don't need to go there, except to say that the jerk who used to be her husband has paid about a tenth of the child support he owes. Thank God for her family.

However, good news from younger daughter and her wonderful hubby...my second grandchild is due to be born in April. Current name selections are Lilith or Xander. Middle names are quite esoteric, and have changed multiple times. :-) I couldn't be more thrilled, and yes, there will be baby knitting in the near future. Another happy thought - this baby will be sleeping in the cradle that my grandfather handmade for me when I was expecting my eldest. So far, both my children, my two nieces, my nephew and my grandson have started life sleeping in that cradle. I know my grandfather would be thrilled.

I've been knitting the Mythos sweater. Not in the yarn called-for, the cost of which is astronomical for a sweater to fit me. I wish designers would remember that just because the yarn to make their itsy bitsy teeny weeny size only takes a skein with enough left over to make a tea cozy, enough yarn for a woman of abundance means her wallet darn well better be abundant too. Given my second paragraph above...let's just say that instead, I got a seriously good deal on some Sockotta. Not the stripey kind, but one that gives a Jacquard kind of pattern. I'm loving it. Until I have to join the two halves by grafting the back, then we'll talk again.

And speaking of knitting, I've decided to get certified through the Craft Yarn Council as a knitting instructor. If I like the program, I may continue on and get certified as a pro. We'll see how it goes. There is also a strong possibility that my DH and I may be jointly teaching a class at a local university in Lightroom and Photoshop. We'll see on that too.

One friend of mine recently asked if I were having a mid-life crisis. The wench is only a few months younger than I! Why did she ask, you wonder? As well you might, given my general youthful demeanor and jejune outlook. (Look it up.) Well, she asked because of this.

Yes, it's a tattoo. After years of saying I would never get one, I suddenly decided I wanted to, and I will tell you why, because I can see you're panting to know. Which is seriously steaming up your monitor, so stop that.

The DH's nickname is Tigger. In return, he calls me Pooh, but is very careful not to point out that I too am stuffed with fluff. For years we've had a standing joke about him (who hates needles) getting a Pooh on his butt, that is if we could find it. The man is practically concave.

Anyway, I recently commented that I should get the Tigger on my left shoulder, where DH falls asleep most nights. And I caught a look on his face - he LOVED the idea! I was stunned, but there was no denying that he got all misty at the thought. That settled it...it had to be done, and as my 16th wedding anniversary gift to him.

The trick was finding the right Tigger. After a lot of search, I found the one above, with the same mush-mush look on his face that the DH gets. He signed off as liking it too. But being your crafty little Goddess, I added a surprise. Ladybugs are very special to us, and I added one, making sure she had nine dots on her back to represent our getting engaged and married in subsequent Septembers. Okay, everyone say, "Ahhhhh." The tattoo artists all did.

It hurt far less than I thought, even on my sensitive lily-white (or as DD2 says, "Pasty" - she went with me) skin. This photo was about two hours after the procedure. Now, nine days later, it's a bit itchy but mostly done healing, and I'm pleased. More importantly, the DH loves it.

Totally out of character for me to have done this. Maybe I am having a mid-life crisis. But as a quote I read in college said, at the end of my life I'd rather regret things I have done, than things I wish I had done.

I like that.

Some pictures

2010-07-17T15:24:00.009-04:00

I promised some pictures of my Maia, and here she is. The color is actually a lovely emerald green, and the sheets under are olive. This is what I get for using my point & shoot instead of having the DH do studio shots. Oh well.

Detail of the neckline. Romi did some creative patterning here.

And a detail of the bottom. This is not a large shawl, nor as small as a scarf, though you could wear it as one. It's perfect size for tossing around your shoulders when the A/C is too high in the office, or your muscles feel like they need warmed up a bit.

Right out in front of our photography studio, a pair of cardinals has a nest that has hatched out four babies. They are starting to wander outside the nest now, and I was able to get a few pictures. I call this one, "Are you steppin' to ME?"

The parents aren't happy when I'm out there shooting, because they want to feed the babies. They'll go so far as to come into the bush, cheeping up a storm, but they won't 'lead' me to their babies by going close enough to feed them. This baby felt it was definitely time to eat.

And in one that cracks me up every time I look at it, I think this one would make a perfect ad for Metamucil. I think he needs more fiber, in spite of the pine berries I watched Daddy Cardinal ripping off the tree to feed them.

I've been busy

2010-07-15T23:14:00.001-04:00

But I'll try to catch you up soon. I promise to post some pics tomorrow of Maia, the second in a series of seven shawls by Romi. I'm one of her test knitters, and it's such fun!

A Quickie

2010-05-28T13:09:00.006-04:00

Just because you know you like them. :-þ I know I owe you some yarn and such pictures, but I've been pretty busy, as you'll see.

Every year we do a major dance studio's costume and action photos. And every year, we select an image we consider really good, like an incredible jump caught in mid-air, we blow it up, frame it, and unveil it when we sell the action photos at recital. It's become something people look for, and each year we try to outdo ourselves.
This year, the studio has their youngest soloist ever. She's ten. We got this shot of her. I really liked this picture, and felt that the youngest soloist deserved recognition. So I tossed a new sort of effect that I've been playing with at the picture, and came up with this.

I think she'll be impressed. And I'm hoping that I blow the ballet slippers off all her classmates!

Scotties Rule!

2010-05-13T14:12:00.008-04:00

At least in my house, they do. I've been owned by at least one, usually two, and occasionally three Scotties since August of 1981. We'd recently been posted to England, and rather than quarantine the six-month old mixed breed we had, we gave her to the ex's mom. Given that he was a fighter pilot and prone to many and sometimes long absences, I wanted a dog for company. I was living in a strange country, and I was very young.

With some friends from our squadron on the same mission, we visited a breeder of several types of dogs. Our friends ended up with a Westie. I wanted a black dog, since through happenstance all my family's animals had been black, and the ex wanted a male. And he was waiting for us; the last of his litter, and wagging his tail off...but not raising the racket other dogs were. He was for us, and brilliant boyo that he was, Mackenzie knew it.

Mackenzie set an incredible standard. Bright, loyal, stubborn and loving, he was inspirational, literally. Mom fell in love with him, and has owned several Scotties since. By pure luck I'd stumbled on the right breed for me. And smart! Mackenzie knew I was pregnant with the eldest DD before I did.

Now as part of my Scottie-love, the DH and I run a list dedicated to the breed on Yahoo. The link is below. The DH has a wee Sheltie that suits his personality more, but he loves the quirks and foibles of our two Scotties, Jack and Benny, too. When a knitter friend of mine mentioned she was getting a Scottie, we invited her to AngelScots. A little over a month ago, she asked if it would be alright to post and ask for a knitter to test a Scottie scarf pattern from a booklet of same that she would be selling to raise money for Scottie rescue.

Do I need to tell you that the request didn't ever go to the list? I hopped on that. The friend is Liz Lovick, and you've already seen on here the brilliant patterns she does, including the Fair Isle Scottie hat I knitted, and the vest she knitted for me. Both, I understand, to be in the booklet. Liz sent me some ColourMart yarn in a yak blend, of all things - very soft and a gorgeous muted lavender. We agreed I would knit it testing the written instructions, and the DH would provide photos. Here are few that we sent.
For the record, this is a fingering weight, I used about 58g of yarn and the scarf ended up being about 5.5 ft long and 7.5 wide. The scarf is knitted in two pieces and grafted in the middle. My graft is imperfect, but no one will know but me unless they get WAY too close to me for their comfort.

I did attend Maryland Sheep and Wool on May 2nd. I only stayed a couple of hours, and I didn't make it to all the outlaying vendors. It was killer hot, for one thing, in spite of the fans going everywhere. Your Goddess does not do heat. I didn't buy much, but I'll take a few photos and post them next.

The Nerve

2010-05-04T17:30:00.005-04:00

Sometimes, even your Goddess cannot believe the gall of people. Truly. And today is one of those times.

Back in December, another area photographer called me. A client/friend had asked him to do a restoration job, and as he got into it, he realized it was beyond his admittedly limited skill set. He brought it to me. This was supposedly the only copy of a woman's mother and son together. This picture mattered, a lot.

The photo had adhered to glass in a frame, and then the glass was broken. Gentle Readers, do NOT put photos behind glass unless you have the photo matted so that the glass isn't touching it. The least moisture, the photo emulsion turns to glue and you'll never get it unstuck. Then you'll be calling me, and I'm gonna have to charge you because I have this nasty habit of eating.

Ordinarily, I give an quote and require half down, but since this was a friend of a colleague, I didn't. Idiot me. I quoted two hours work...and as always put in a lot more...and the cost of a print. And I did the work, and was very pleased. I called the photographer and told him the job was done.

That's when he told me that another family member had given her a copy of the photo for Christmas. I was screwed, and so was he, for the time he'd put in on it. I've stewed over it a bit, but figured I had no recourse.

And now today. I posted a new photo on Facebook of some image enhancement I'd done. I'll show you in a minute. I tagged a friend in the photo because it was done at her dance studio. And turns out, SHE has a friend who looked at the photo in my work album, and also saw the before and after of the broken-glass-I've-been-stiffed picture. You guessed it (or should have!) - it was her mother and son. So she has the nerve, gall and presumption to ask me if she may tag herself in it!!!

Un-flippin'-real. I know my eyes bugged out because there's mascara on my monitor screen! I politely wrote her back, saying that since I hadn't been paid for the work she referred to as "beautiful" and "amazing," I was uncomfortable allowing her use of it. She says that oh, gee, she was never told by the other photographer that it was ready. :::head to keyboard::: I replied with an oh, gee back at her that since he knew she'd obtained another copy, he probably figured it was fruitless. I added that I was not too happy to be out my work and the print cost.

Now, this woman KNOWS she didn't pay for this work. Can you imagine her having the cojones to ask me to use it? Especially given that SHE HAS HER OWN FREAKIN' COPY OF IT????

I've said it before, I'll say it again, people are idiots. Including me doing the work on spec. :-(

On a happier note, here's the image I played with. Kind of a grunge/fantasy light thingy!

Laughter

2010-04-27T15:24:00.003-04:00

About 18 years or so ago, the ex and I purchased a home in the town in which we live. It had been a three-bedroom rancher, but a previous owner had been a builder and added a two-story brick attachment with a sunken family room and a nice master bedroom suite upstairs. It was a good deal, and I liked the house...not the neighborhood so much, but the house.

Until. We had a serious gully-washer come through, and our house received a lot of run-off from the hill behind us. The rain started pouring in and the sunken living room lived up to its name. The ex, of course, wasn't home as he never was during a crisis (up to and including Hurricane Hugo!), and I frantically tried to save furniture and carpet.

Long story short, this builder didn't bother to waterproof the outer wall. We had one more deluge before we could have it fixed, and we couldn't save the carpet a second time.

What does this calamity have to do with laughter? I'll tell you. You knew I would. Around this same time, the British series of "Who's Line is it Anyway" was on Comedy Central. If you're only familiar with the Drew Carey version, that was limp and pale in comparison. The Brit version was hysterical. Rolling on the floor stuff. And I watched every single day throughout the mess. I'm not too sure it wasn't the only thing that kept me in my usual semi-sane state.

I'm a firm believer in the healing power of laughter. The DH and I have had some serious rocky times - almost all, I hasten to add, from external sources. We get along exceptionally well, mainly because I know how lucky I am, and he because he doesn't realize how heavily I keep him drugged. But there has never come a time when we couldn't laugh together, and if at times the laughter was a little bit on the hysterical side, well, it was still cathartic.

Almost two years ago, it was the last time we saw my father-in-law. We all knew he was passing, and only a couple of us could be with him in his hospital room at once. I stood in the hall with the DH and his older brother, and listened to them reminisce about their dad. They told camping stories, and house painting stories, and car trip stories, and throughout all of these warm memories was the thread of laughter. When I think of that day, I think of holding Dad's hand, telling him I loved him and trying to quiet him...and I think of that laughter.

Now, to quote Bill Cosby, I told you that one to tell you this. I stumbled (gracefully, naturally, as befits your goddess) across a blog today that had me laughing. Not just laughing, I should say. Guffawing till I was breathless, wiping away tears, and struggling hard to sober up when the phone rang. Now, I know humor is subjective, and what I find funny you may not, especially if you're a conservative about adult language and situations. I'm a bit like that in public (when did it become okay to drop the F-bomb in the middle of a crowded store?), but to read or watch as humor, I'm okay. If you are too, enjoy.

If you don't find her amusing, feel free to say so. I need a good laugh, and you'll do. :-)

Green...the color of Earth's life

2010-04-16T12:33:00.000-04:00

I'd appreciate it, if you like my design best, if you'll go vote for it on Bloomingdale's site. Ta!

Green...the color of Earth's life: "

Country view of trees and birds, all in green, with the word GREEN descending on the right, and "...the color of Earth's life" across the bottom."

Gifted

2010-04-10T10:19:00.004-04:00

No, for a change I'm not talking about myself, except in the sense that I was the recipient of an unexpected gift.

Not but what I should have expected it, but I am a true blond and occasionally have to act like one so as not to completely explode the stereotype which so comforts all you brunettes out there. I should have expected it because, at the beginning of the year, my new Terrier Twin requested my bust and hip measurements. And if you don't think taking them at the beginning of a new year is depressing, you have not been paying attention to just how abundant your Goddess is.

To back up a smidgen - if you've been following this blog at all, you know I own (or am owned BY) two Scotties. Jack is black, and almost nine. He has only one eye due to an accident that we think was caused by another puppy's claw (wince) poking him in that eye. It had to be removed. It doesn't faze him, other than he walks to the non-traditional side of me because that's where he can see me. He is a very devoted dog, one of the most so of all the Scotties I've owned over almost 29 years.

Benny is what is known as a wheaten Scottie. Most people think all Scotties are black, but that's not so. There are brindle Scotties, which are mostly black with sort of striping of various shades of brown or silver or red, and wheaten, which are never white but may be anything from a light silver to wheat to something like Benny's lovely coat, which reminds me of nothing so much as creme brulee. He has a fairly deep wheat cast, but the tips are pure cinnamon. Benny will be 8 this summer.

Once internet groups really took off, I joined one for Scottie owners. I didn't care for it. The group owner played favorites, was very autocratic and the group was too large for my taste. A new group, AngelScots, formed in memory of the owner's dog who'd recently gone to the Rainbow Bridge, was more to my liking. I joined it a few days after it was formed, and that was over 10 years ago now. Eventually, the DH and I were asked to take over ownership, and there it stands.

A few years ago, I got the idea of doing a secret pal program to foster members getting to know one another better. Being prone to alliteration, I named it Terrier Twins. The idea is to learn about the other person, send a few cards and a present or two, and be supportive when they need someone in their corner. For the most part, it has gone very well.

This year my friend Liz Lovick drew my name. You've seen her mentioned here many times before. She is an extraordinary font of information on knitting and spinning, specifically as found in the Scottish Isles. Liz is very generous in teaching others, and was doing just that on one of my knitting lists, when she happened to mention she was about to rescue a Scottie. She had owned one before and was involved with the local rescue program. I am sure you won't be surprised to hear that I pounced and invited her to join AngelScots. She's been a great asset to the list.

Now to the present, and the present. Liz had warned me a few weeks before Easter to watch for a package in the post. I was startled to receive the vest you've been seeing here...in fact, I was blown away. She used yarn from a company with which she is affiliated and one that is very popular with knitters, Colourmart. It is incredibly soft, and as you see, has wonderful Scottie motifs. It's part of a group of patterns Liz is creating to help raise money for her Scottie rescue group. We're helping by providing pictures of some of the items, like the hat
which I knitted from a previous gift. And as of yesterday, I am a test knitter for a lace Scottie scarf for her. Liz sent me the pattern, some scrumptious yak-blend deep lavender yarn, and some stitch markers she made for me, and I cast on last night. I got 27 rows in and found a typo, so I feel very useful. LOL.

Liz had my name for Christmas when she sent me the hat pattern and yarn. She also sent me an incredible spindle by Michael Woods, and some silk hankies and roving to match that she had hand-dyed for me. I spun a singles of each and plied them together recently for about 160 yards of two-ply yarn in what I would call a heavy laceweight. I have a lot more to spin, but this first skein is really pretty, and as soon as I get a picture I'll post it for you.

Anyway, two weeks ago we did a fundraiser day for the local no-kill animal adoption center, Briggs. We did pet pictures and donated part of the sitting fee to Briggs. I wore my vest that day, got many compliments and had the DH do some photos for Liz. The shirt I wore under it is, I know, big on me, but I figured I'd better wear loose clothing if I were dealing with dogs all day. It was a lot of fun.

Meanwhile, a gentleman just brought in two photos for me to restore, so back to it!

Limberlost Luna

2010-03-23T17:13:00.003-04:00

That turned out to the name of this gorgeous shawl that was the MMario MMystery knit. You may recall I posted earlier that I was working on this, and shared a few pictures. Now you may see it in all its glory:

I will say this was a bit trickier than many MMario designs. I could almost hear the single brain cell he claims to possess firing off repeatedly.

The yarn was Blue Moon's Laci yarn in the colorway "Bleck." I have no idea where the name generates, but it does not, in my so-not-at-all-humble opinion, suit the lovely grayed lavender that it is.

Many have said they wished it were a bit bigger, and I admit, I had to block it very hard to get it as large as I did. The edge points were my own doing...if anyone did it, and they may have, I just haven't seen it. It simply felt right as I was blocking.

A really lovely, challenging knit. Many thanks to the DH for his wonderful photography.

If my mother ever appreciated anything I knit for her, this would be her mother's day gift. As my ex used to refer to her collection, she is "infested" with butterfly items. I don't know. Maybe I'll take it up at Easter and if she seems covetous, she may have it. We'll see, but don't hold your breath. :-)

Gone to the Birds

2010-03-10T13:16:00.004-05:00

I'm reminded of those essays we had to write as kids: "Here Is How I Spent My Summer." This blog is How I Spent My Blizzard.

Knowing that the bad...okay, intense, since I don't consider snow bad...weather was coming, I decided to get prepared. We got bird seed, and I took home a camera with a very long - and heavy! - lens.

Then I went semi-insane. We've had a bird feeder in one of the trees in our back yard pretty much since we moved in 16 years ago, and I've gotten a few good pictures over the years, but hey, nothing like a blizzard to drive the birds to your feeder! I perched myself in an open (!) window in our dining room, and began shooting. For hours. And hours. And days. And I've never been happier. Half-frozen, fingers stiff, DH bringing me the occasional hot beverage, bless him, and me with no idea of the amount of time going by.

Obsession? Check the dictionary. I think my picture is there.

But oh, gentle readers, how I think it was worth it. I culled literally hundreds of images down, then sorted out some more, and I was still thrilled with the number of images I felt were good. Then I showed them to DH, and got his opinion, pulling out a few more. The rest he felt were good enough to offer for sale, and I put a few in my Etsy store.

But he did me one better than that, opening a gallery with all the images. We sorted them by type of bird (mostly cardinals - at one point I had over 20 in one tree!). If you visit the gallery, there is a drop-down menu on the bottom right you can use to view different birds. If you're interested in ordering...and I hope you will be!...click on the cart button under any image to view options and pricing. We can do standard luster prints, fine art linen paper and even canvas wraps. The prints are mounted on strong art board, and the canvas wraps are ready to go on the wall. Of course, we can frame and mat them for you, either separately, or with multiple images in one mat. I have one up in the studio that I love that is a male and female seated together in the center, flanked by the facing male and female you see above. Just ask, and we'll work with you. And soon, we plan to have note cards and other items available.

Then the DH blew me away. He has a blog for his work at our studio, and he featured me. To quote a bit, and stroke my ego more:

"I’m going to go out on a limb here (pun intended), and tell you about Diana’s nature photography. (snip) The results, quite honestly, are stunning. Diana’s eye at capturing wildlife has always been spot on. But the nuance she shows in this gallery is pretty much the eye of a years-experienced professional."

Can you imagine how moved I was? Understand, I don't just adore this man, I truly respect his opinion and admire his work. His words meant the world to me.

I hope to get several more types of birds up too, so keep the site bookmarked. These make great gifts. That's a subtle hint.

Comments are most welcome, but remember, your Goddess is sensitive. ;-}

Livid

2010-02-24T16:03:00.002-05:00

I know I haven't posted for awhile. Yes, we were socked in by multiple snow storms, and you'd think I'd have written something then, wouldn't you? But I was actually very busy with something else, about which I'll share more presently. We're also thankfully busier at the studio than usual.

I knew you all were simply panting for a PAI (People Are Idiots) rant and since a prime example came up today, I thought I'd share.

We have six local high schools, and a few private schools, in this area. Many of the seniors, whether the school has a contract photographer or not, choose to come to us. Without bragging, we have the best facility in the locale, and with bragging, the best photographer in my DH. The kids come here knowing that we go the extra mile for them. We even take care of digitally submitting their yearbook photo to the various advisers, usually via email attachment.

Today we were told by one senior that her adviser, whom I'll call Ms. Lint Licker (LL for short), informed said senior that her photo would not be in the yearbook. Naturally upset, she posted on DH's Facebook page, asking why. He immediately emailed LL.

She responded by saying she'd never received the 13 senior photos we'd sent....btw, well before the deadline. Now, doodoo happens. Other yearbook advisers have not received or lost an image. You know what they do? They ask the kids, "Where is your picture?" They call the local photographers and ask if we have any to submit. They are conscientious, knowing the importance of their senior yearbook to these students.

Not LL. When the DH called her, she informed him - yelling so loudly I could hear her from about 10 feet away - that it was "Not her job" to call photographers. Even after she admitted to him that she sometimes has email difficulties at her school account! I guess it's not her job to talk to students, either, because she didn't trouble herself to ask them about their images. The DH got her to finally admit that the pages could still be changed, but essentially, it would take too much effort for her. Thirteen seniors won't be in their yearbook, and she can't be BOTHERED?!? What could BE more important when you're taking money to be the yearbook adviser?

DH offered to take his time to help with the layout to get it done. No, LL responded, that would violate state law about privacy. Really? For images that are being published in a public forum like a yearbook?

Two minutes. That's all it would have taken for her to call or email the area's top photographer. She knew she had email issues, she knew we would have images for her, she knew she had at least 13 seniors for whom she had no pictures...and she did nothing. I cannot fathom that level of irresponsibility. We are, of course, taking this to the principal, and failing resolution from that source, we'll be contacting the parents of the students. One has been a client for years, and a friend, and saints preserve LL if we sic this lady on her!

As a last note, I'm the daughter, niece and the sister of teachers, and proud of it. The DH has taught at the local university. Teachers are some of the best of people doing a job that should pay a helluva lot more than it does given the importance of it. If my kids got in trouble with a teacher, I took the teacher's point until I knew any differently. Bottom line, I admire teachers. A lot.

I hate having found a teacher that doesn't hold to the high standard I grew up with.

And the Knit Goes On.

2010-01-20T11:30:00.003-05:00

First, a quickie little project from Through the Loops by Kirsten Kapur. It's called Laurie's Beret and is in a lovely honeycomb pattern. There's also a pattern for matching mittens. I used Noro Kureyon from my stash, the first time I've used this yarn. It overshadows the pattern a hair in this photo, less in real life. The plum is actually a bit deeper, otherwise the colors are pretty true. It's fresh off blocking, so I expect a bit more drape as the yarn relaxes.

Now for the MMKKMMystery on Yahoo. This is a spin-off from the MMarioKKnits group, set up just to host the mystery shawl. I'm not working mine with beads. I like beads, I just wasn't in the mood.
I'm using Blue Moon Laci in Bl eck, which is a much more grayed lavender than this quick snapshot shows. I didn't try to block it out or anything, just laid it on the chair. I've thought the same thing as my dear friend Olivia-Lee since clue 1...it's a luna moth. Especially since MMario gave us a suggested color list and at the top was a green with hints of yellow. NOT a good color for your Goddess; my greens are forest-y to match my eyes. (batting same) I dove in the stash and pulled up this extravagance that I allowed myself a year and a half ago at MD Sheep and Wool. It's just gorgeous.

Anyway, this is up to clue 3. I'm love the results, knit on a size 5 Knitpick Zephyr circular. I'm using the circular to hold the anticipated weight; the shawl is worked flat, with lace and cables. I'm in heaven.

At least as far as knitting goes. Business is good for this time of year, but I'm worried about my daughter and grandson. Her soon-to-be-ex, aka Dorkey, is doing nothing to help provide for his son, and lied about paying some bills, leaving her stuck with them. He's shacking up with someone else, and driving on his rescinded license. Such a peach, hmmm? Then DD's home was broken into (IMHO Dorkey did it, but that's only an opinion) and several items stolen - camera, computer, jewelry, and worst of all, my grandson's saving jar. Photographer friends of the DH have been sending him amounts from $1 to $50 to replace it, and it's all going into a child's saving account at the bank for safety. Bless them all.

And now, my daughter just lost her job. She's an incredibly resilient young woman, and I KNOW she'll come out on top. But I'm a big one for doing my duty, and right now, my duty seems to be to try to help as much as I can...and to fret. I'm way too good at it.To end on a happier note...this will be a Valentine's gift for her hubby. I just love this image. The DH did a fantastic job (as always) with the lighting, and it just cried out for spot color. These Days of Beauty we do are so much fun - hair, makeup and photography, then my touch afterward. And it doesn't hurt when friends are there to egg one another on and bring their own champagne!

Glad THAT'S Over!

2010-01-02T14:40:00.004-05:00

By which I mean 2009. One of the lousiest, if not the worst, I've ever had. Not all of it, of course, but more than enough for me. More sick days than I've ever spent. More deaths touching me, worst of all being Witt's. Not a day goes by that I don't think of him, usually when I'm knitting, but sometimes just when I am finding something ridiculous, and wishing I could share it. And almost everyone struggling to make ends meet.

The year finished up carrying on the theme.

My eldest DD and her creep husband are divorcing, and one of the attorneys for whom she works is helping her, which is a blessing. The not-so-dear SIL’s done nothing to find work, she’s struggling to pay off bills that he was supposed to have paid and didn’t, and he’s sponging off mutual friends. He’s not giving her any money to help, but he’s paying them rent. I know she’s very hurt that her best girlfriend is basically taking food out of Cameron’s mouth. Oh, and he's driving the car of a girl he's apparently fooling around with AT the friend's house, but his license has been revoked. He's already been jailed once for that. What an ass.

Then DD’s trailer was broken into on Monday, and her laptop, camera and some jewelry stolen. Sadder still my grandson’s money jug was stolen, with all his birthday and allowance savings...over $50 just from this last birthday, and she doesn’t know how much more than that. Poor little boy was bawling his eyes out. And to tell the truth, I suspect the soon-to-be-ex. He knows her work schedule, and conveniently returned the key to the place that evening. Hmmm. Another place in the neighborhood was burgled a couple days later - he having not worked in a year and a half knows all the daytime patterns. He's also allegedly out of unemployment insurance, although I'm not sure if that's true.

Then worse. She told us that the jerk had promised to pay the electricity bill so she could buy gifts for Cameron for Christmas. The bill was due the 21st, and she just found out it wasn't paid. This time of year, it's all we can do to pay our own bills. BUT...my MIL heard about it, and sent DD a check to cover it. And DH told his photographer’s forum about Camo, and they set up a Cameron’s Jar fund to give him money...which they’re sending to us, since the dweeb has access to their PO box. My DH had mentioned $1 each, but some are sending more. We got five envelopes just today. So this year's already started out better. Thank God, and I say that most fervently.

Another happy bit...I finished the Verdigris gauntlets I was making for the younger DD. I made them out of Louet Gems yarn Witt gave me, and one skein on size 2 dpns was enough to do the shorter set with about a 2" diameter ball to spare. She's thrilled with them, and I've actually had someone offer to pay me to make her a pair! Given that I'm pretty sure I spent about 80 hours making them...well, she understands the time involved, but I really couldn't begin to charge her fairly for that much time. The cost would be astronomical. She's left the offer open if I want to quote her...any suggestions?

Here's hoping 2010 will be a banner year for us all. If it isn't...well, you know I'll have something to say about it!

Warm Fuzzies

2009-12-15T10:56:00.005-05:00

I'm at work, and just got a phone call from my uncle, Harry. My dad has only one brother, his elder by four years, which makes Harry 72. A very spry, healthy and hearty man, thank God.

Harry is a Vietnam vet, who flew for the Navy. Therefore, I barely knew him growing up. When I was very young, I remember hearing his voice on cassette tapes he would send from Hawaii. I remember there being a collision when he was stationed on the John F. Kennedy, and my dad calling everywhere trying to find out if Harry was okay. And I remember one visit to Virginia Beach after Harry and his wife Darlene settled there with my five cousins, for each whose births Harry was absent. You bet I admire Darlene!

So, other than family reunions, I didn't know Harry well. Until. A few years ago, at a reunion being held at his home, we got to talking, mostly about my dad. You see, Dad suffered a stroke when he was a bit younger than I am now. He's physically well, but the stroke affected his speech recall, putting paid to his teaching career. Thus this man who was always the center of conversation, with a biting wit, now sits on the sidelines listening, fighting occasionally to find the right word to interject.

What this meant to me was pretty profound. Dad and I had a very rocky relationship growing up. I never felt good enough for him, and he repeated behaviors he disliked in his own father. But right about the time I felt grown-up enough to tell him how I felt, I no longer could. It would have been fighting an unarmed opponent, and think what you will of me, Gentle Reader, I have a bit more honor than that.

At the reunion, I told this to Harry, following by saying that I felt I'd effectively lost my father. And he startled me by saying he knew just how I felt, because he'd lost his only sibling, the brother that was the only one who would know what their youth was like. It was a huge bonding moment for us, and to a small extent, Harry stepped into the shoes my Dad never filled for me.

Now, the men in my family are traditionally very good hobby carpenters. When my younger daughter was graduating from university, I asked Harry to make her a cedar chest for her gift from us. He did a lovely job, only allowing me to pay for some of the wood. The same when he made an incredible display cabinet for me, and then he surprised us with a gorgeous swiveling double frame as a studio-warming gift.

Not too surprisingly, then, I wanted to make something for him. I settled on a scarf, the beginning of which you can see here. I fell for the yarn, and it reminded me of Harry's lovely blue eyes. The man was killer handsome in his youth, and is still a stunner, as you can see in this picture of him with my late grandmother from four years ago!

The scarf was my car knitting, even with the cables, since they were relatively big and easy, even with slippery yarn. I kept it in my "Emergency Knitting" bag, and worked on it sporadically. Then I realized it was getting close to being long enough, and Christmas was coming, and I did a full-court press (whatever THAT is) to finish it. It was shipped on Friday, with a note telling him what he means to me.

He called the studio today, confessing he couldn't wait to open it. Hey, I'm from this family, and I never expected him to! He repeated several times how beautiful the scarf was, and that he was very moved. He said it was one of the most thoughtful gifts he'd ever received, because he knew a part of me was in it.

It's so wonderful to have one's efforts appreciated like that! Granted, it was a small thing to make, but I did put love into every stitch. I wish we'd gotten to be close earlier in life. I'm sure it would have helped me grow into a better person...not much better, of course, because I'll be snarky till the day I die, but better.

Harry remarked how warm the scarf was. Funny, but I think it's keeping me warm too.

And There's More

2009-12-04T13:54:00.002-05:00

I had another unexpected client come in and ask for a restoration and tinting job. The image is his late mother, and it's over 60 years old. As you can see, it's yellowed badly, but there wasn't much overall damage.

I got information from him about her coloring. He said her hair was black, and her eyes brown, but he had no idea what color her dress would have been. I suggested a red, so both flatter her coloring, and because the only lip color you could really get back then was, you guessed it, red.

Here's the resulting image, sent off to the lab for EIGHT 11x14s!

As promised, a picture of the stocking that will be a Christmas present for the DH's niece, whose name I drew for the gift exchange. This was a Knitpicks kit, and I'm very pleased with how it turned out, save one teeny tiny little detail I screwed up. I put the afterthought heel on the wrong flippin' side of the stocking! I missed a critical few words in the pattern. But she'll never know the difference and it's still cute, so oh, well. Yet again I remind myself of the Persian rug makers, who deliberately make an error in every rug they make, because "only Allah is perfect." So, I wouldn't want to mess with THAT.

Lastly for today, when my hands get tired of knitting with tiny needles working on DD's gauntlets, I'm working on a bit of spinning. With gift knitting I've hardly spun at all lately. Although the last thing I needed was more fiber, thankfully, need didn't enter into it. :-D I fell in love.

The roving is from the Copperpot Etsy store. She shares my love for purple, and I couldn't resist this beautifully prepared mix of merino, tussah, bamboo and a bit of silvery shimmery Firestar. It wants to spin pretty thin, so maybe a shawl will come from the 7+ ounces I got. Drafting is almost effortless with this stuff. The picture leans a hint more magenta than it really is, and it's a bit darker than this too, but I had to use flash or you wouldn't see how finely it's spinning up. It's yummy! I'll do my usual two-ply with it and see what I get. Good thing is, I know it'll be purple.

In Living Color (not the show)

2009-12-01T15:01:00.003-05:00

A lady came into the studio today with this 4x6 print, and a story.

The woman pictured is the client's sister. She was a ballerina - I don't know how professionally or anything, but since she's not a child here, I'm assuming (yes, yes, I know!) that she danced for at least some of her adult years.

Unfortunately, all of her pictures were lost in a flood. Need I tell you the devastation she felt? If I do need, you aren't appreciating your photos nearly enough. Go, now...appreciate them and I'll wait.

Okay. My client found this picture about two years ago, and as she says it, desperately wanted to have an 8x10 made of it, and have it tinted as a surprise gift for her sister. She called all over the place; no one did this kind of work.

Then she called us. Oh, yes, the DH told her, we can do that. Just bring it in for a quote. Once she did and I told her that I could do just what she wanted, she was thrilled. To the point of tears. Awwwww. Dammit, I was moved.

I hate being moved. Costs me money. I know this because I only charged her for about two-fifths of the time I actually used. Now, I could have done it in the hour I charged, but not to my satisfaction. And your Goddess simply MUST be satisfied. Ask anyone. Go ahead, I'll wait again.

So here you have it. The client specified the colors she wanted. She said she wouldn't care if only her sister were colored, but I don't think she really would have liked how that looked. The only thing I left as it was, barring cleaning up dust and scratches, was the sofa.

It does look tinted, of course - I defy anyone to colorize a black and white where you can't tell at all that it's been done. Heck, even Ted Turner with all his money couldn't do it. But I am pleased with it. Skin tones are especially difficult, but I think they look very natural here. Her face is sharper, and the contrast is much better too.

On the knitting front, I finished the stocking I was knitting. My younger daughter's birthday was Sunday, and I had found a hat/mitten combo I liked and thought I'd knit her. I sent her to the site to see it.

She emailed back showing me a pattern on the same site for gauntlets (think fingerless mittens) that she preferred. Since I love gauntlets too, I have about a dozen patterns for them. I sent her the .pdfs so she could choose one.

Being my daughter, she picked the most intricate set made on the tiniest needles. *sigh* They're my favorites too. They are by Rosemary Hill, aka Romi, and are called Verdigris. If you've never seen her shawl pins, I utterly love the ones I have. As well as my yarn ball earrings. Anyway, I'm almost done the first one...DD knew she wouldn't get them in time for her birthday...making them from Louet Gems in Pewter, one of the skeins Witt gave me in a color she likes and I don't. So that works!

Pictures of that, and the stocking, soon. I know you have nothing else to anticipate this time of year.

"Polite-ing to Death"

2009-11-20T15:13:00.002-05:00

That, for those of you that haven't seen it before, is a Southern-ism. Whereas if you angered someone in NYC they'd rip you a new one, in the deep South things are different. Especially with the ladies. If someone, especially someone with a whip hand over you, is unfair or rude, you "Yes'm" the hell out of them. Everything is said in a tone of deep respect, not a word out of place, leaving the angry person no ground upon which to stand. (I know that is grammatically correct, but English is so awkward that way, basing so much on Latin rules when it's not really a Latin-based language. But I digress.)

So why do I mention that technique? Because customer service in all walks of life has resorted to it as a means of dealing with a consumer, irate or not, and to be honest, I am sick of it.

As an example...today I received an email from my younger sister, B. I had drawn her name for Christmas this year. With four kids in my family, spouses and adult grandchildren, we went to this system several years ago. Much more sensible. Said sister lives in Georgia.

The day before we did the drawing, my other sister J and I were shopping in Kohl's. She spotted some serving pieces in a snowman theme, and remarked that they would be perfect for B, who apparently has a snowman fetish of which I was heretofore unaware. When I drew B, I knew what to get.

Rather than go to the store and pack it all up myself, I went online - how I do 90% of my gift shopping, btw - and placed the order. I wanted to send it early because a) it was on sale; b) I had the money; and c) not much sense giving a holiday item that will be immediately put away. So I placed the order, and watched the tracking to see when she'd get it.

The cheapest shipping option was Fedex, but the kind where they get it there, then give it to the USPS to deliver. This seems to me like a Montague trusting a Capulet with their goblet of wine, but there you have it. Since no one was home to sign for delivery, they had to go pick it up at the Post Office. And one of the two pieces I sent was shattered. Not broken, decimated. B. called Kohl's to report it and they said they would credit my card.

Naturally, I still wanted my sister to have the piece I sent, rather than the pieces it became, so I called customer service, using the number on my email confirmation. Which did not take me to regular customer service, but to Kohl's charge card service. I don't have one, don't want one, and if you own a store card that you don't pay off every month, you're insane. Their rates are usury, pure and simple. But they kindly connected me to the correct department, and I got a rep right away, a rarity that I found pleasing. And even better, I spoke to someone in the USA.

And got Polited. I wasn't upset when I called, I know that doo-doo happens, but this is the way we're all treated now. Everything was over-enthusiastic. Provide your name, and you'd think you just went potty on your own for the first time. Confirm your address and they're practically orgasmic. When I called Sprint awhile back, everything was "Thank you sooo much for that information!" The woman I spoke with at Kohl's was very nice. Don't get me wrong. She got the item re-ordered for me, and was delighted to find it was on a deeper sale and I would save two whole additional dollars. She exclaimed over the adorableness, and informed me she should order one (I was forcibly reminded of the Target lady on SNL!). She told me of her deep longing to visit Georgia, and thrilled to tell me there would be no shipping. All very sweet.

And it made me irritated where I wasn't before. Yes, I know, you're thinking it's perverse of me. However, I prefer to deal professionally. I'm not adverse to a little schmoozing of clients when there is a relationship there, as in our business. But with luck, I won't speak to Suzy Sunshine again. No relationship to develop. Instead, a call that could have been completed in half the time was elongated by all the verbal ego stroking.

I'll grant you, it's preferable to the surliness I was on the end of on another call today. Another company with whom we have no business, nor would we, attempting to fax our voice line. After six of these in rapid succession a few days ago, I looked up the number on Google, found their voice line (no, you really don't want to mess with me) and called. Spoke to a young man who was properly apologetic and guaranteed to take care of it.

Uh-huh. Got six more today. After the first two, I called them, and this time got a young woman. She informed me that I would need to speak with the young man again, and he would have to call me back. I suggested that while I wait on that, she could walk herself to the fax, or call wherever it is, and ask them to knock it off. She got very snippy, told me I'd have to wait for the call, and hung up on me.

That sucks as customer service. If he does call, I'll rat her out in a heartbeat...after all, they are harassing ME, interrupting my work, so what right does she have to be pissed at me for asking that it stop? I didn't use any rude words, or raise my voice. And if they don't call me, you can be sure I'll be on the horn to them soon.

But on the up side, at least I didn't feel like I was covered in sugar syrup when I got off the phone. Not a good feeling for a diabetic. :-)

My Elfine's Socks

2009-11-12T13:28:00.004-05:00

I finished my socks this weekend, and after beating my mother and sister (more on them later) off with a stick, I managed to keep them! These are unblocked except by my foot.

Yes, I have cankles, and you can go sit in the van.

This are the Elfine's socks by Anna Bell. It's a free pattern which you may find here. I knit them in the Socks That Rock Spinel colorway. Here's a tighter detail of the picture above, and this color is a bit more true. These took about a month to knit, alternating with another project or two.This is only my third pair of socks, and I'm really pleased with them. I discovered that knitting plain socks doesn't suit me at all; too boring! But this was fun, so I'm looking forward to my next pair. Right now I'm knitting a Christmas stocking, but no pictures till it's done. Be patient, my little chickadees!

In a spirit of fun which, let's face it, is the best spirit of all, next to rum, I thought I'd share....

This weekend my mom and sister Joyce were in town for the annual birthday dinner for Mom and I (mine was Friday and face it, you sent NOTHING) and we went shopping. Well duh. So- we're stopped a light, and the little chippy in the pickup next to us has some noxious crap passing for music rudely blaring out her truck windows. Mom grumbles, and I said, "Hey, Mom (I call her that), turn your music up and drown her out!" When was the last time YOU heard Johnny Mathis cranked up, pouring out of car windows? I laughed my @$$ off!

The real kicker is that after we had our giggle and turned the music back down, the chippy had cut hers back too! I suspect good ole Johnny won her over. Riiiiiiiiiiiiight.

Doh!

2009-11-04T13:07:00.004-05:00

One of the types of photography we do in our business is sports, including action work. Usually we go out, take pictures of the kids playing, then have the edited shots printed, and take them to the field and sell them toward the end of the season. Once we've sold at the field, we also put the images online to garner additional sales. This isn't just good for us...think of the bitterly divorced parents you know - Dad snaps up all the pictures before Mom can get there, and you KNOW he's not sharing. Or Grandma lives at the other end of the country but wants to get pictures too.

We hand out flyers as we shoot telling people what we're doing. We enclose flyers in the envelopes with the pictures we sell too. It tells them specifically that the password-protected photos will be available online after a certain date. So of course we get the semi-literate dweebs who call us three weeks before we even sell the photos, complaining that they cannot find them online. Yeesh.

But today the DH shared an email that had us both in stitches. A lady wrote in, wanting to know how to find the football pictures of her son online. The DH sent her a list of instructions, ending with "enter the password shown." The woman writes back a few days later saying she still can't get into the pictures, because the website wouldn't accept the password when she typed in "shown."

I laughed till I cried, but that wasn't the kicker. Oh, no. As DH checked the rest of his email, he found an order from her! Can't you just SEE the lightbulb going off, and her desperately wishing she could retrieve her prior email?

I can, and it's absolutely made my day. LOL!

I Feel You Should Know...

2009-10-22T16:54:00.002-04:00

...I'm going to hell. Not a question any longer of "if", but merely "when?"

Very sadly, the husband of a member of one of my knitting lists succumbed to the H1N1 virus last week. It hit him very hard, he had to be on a respirator, and then he died. Everyone has naturally been expressing their condolences.

Today, a kind-hearted list member (so you know it was not I), wrote to say how sorry she was, and added that she understood, because she "lost" her husband three years ago. And the FIRST thought to cross my mind was, "Well, that was damned careless of you, wasn't it?"

So, yes, I'm going to hell. And if you laughed, I'll see you there.

Unsocial Networking

2009-10-15T12:30:00.003-04:00

I don't tweet. Just couldn't care less, and don't think that I'm so important that you all need to know what I'm doing every moment of the day. But I do enjoy the interaction of Facebook a good deal. It lets me know what family is up to. I've reconnected to classmates that I've not seen in more years than I'm going to tell YOU. I get to follow what's happening with Scottie-owner friends.

All good. I even manage not to get too exasperated with the never-ending fantasy game updates; after all, I can turn most of them off. I find real life is enough for me, but I don't judge...much...those who cannot live without pretending to have a zoo or be a Mafioso.

So why are we kvetching today, children? I'll tell you - you knew I would! I am sick unto death of two things. First, the Debbie Downers (tip of the hat to SNL). You know them. Every post is something hugely negative. I don't mean simple things like my car just died, or my kid is sick. I mean EVERY post is, "Why are people so mean?" "I'm always messing up." "My boy/girlfriend is trampling my heart so I'm going to post on here so everyone knows what a nasty person they are." The DH has one niece that is perpetually posting these please-feel-sorry-for-me posts, way beyond normal teenage angst. Not that she's the only one. I have had to be privy to the marriage ups and downs of a Scottie person I barely know, and certainly don't want to know any better now. Enough with the pity parties! Few people will care, and your incessant negativity will ensure they've had enough of you all too soon as well.

The second thing is worse, in my opinion. And as we all know, it's my opinion that counts here. These are the people who think they're being clever by posting cryptic messages. I don't mean the wildly fanciful ones; I love those. For example, last night my sister posted that she was challenging the Bermuda Triangle. That's funny. Nope, I mean the kind of thing I faced this weekend.

We had a lovely Sunday with the DH's family. His mother and eldest brother had birthdays this month, and we got together at Mom's house to celebrate, and appreciate her new sun room. I gave her the QAL and it was a success. Food good, lots of laughter and all the siblings were present. Really nice.

Then we got home, and opened Facebook. The oldest brother's girlfriend posts that she is 'tired of getting the cold shoulder.' The DH's sister posts that she 'is glad the party is over and everyone got along...at least on the surface.' Huh? Neither of us detected any tension. Mom was a bit quieter than usual, but there WERE ten people there, after all. As far as we could tell everyone had fun.

So we asked. Both of them. What was going on? What's the problem? AND THEY WOULDN'T TELL US!!!

Now, post what you like, folks. But do not play these little passive-aggressive games with me. I'll just get furious with you. And you won't like me when I'm angry. I responded to both of them that I hope they had fun throwing this crap out, and refusing to explain, so that everyone else gets to worry fruitlessly.

If you have a problem, put on your big girl panties and deal with it directly. Don't make everyone who's friended you on Facebook have to put up with your whining snideness. Because people can remove you as a friend....and you won't know. And how passive-aggressive would THAT be? Bahahahahahah!

QAL Part Deux

2009-10-05T16:42:00.003-04:00

There's been a request for a larger picture, and it's true, they were small. So here's a bigger shot of the edge detail so the yarn may be better viewed. This shot makes it look a bit brighter in color, but you can see the yarn a bit more clearly.

As Promised

2009-10-04T15:57:00.004-04:00

I completed MMario's Queen Anne's Lace four days ago, and it's now blocking on one of our spare beds. As you can see, it's really too wide for the bed and I had to pin those points down over the side. I don't think it's much of an issue.The yarn was a gift from Witt, a couple months before he passed on. A friend of his had handspun it, but since lace wasn't so much his thing, he graciously passed it on to me. I still have quite enough of one ball to do something for me. It's a lovely mix of color that overall looks very like you see it here. It has slubs of hot pink and blue, and hints of cream. I think it's a wool/mohair mix, and it's taking blocking very well.

You can see the edge detail here. There are several different ways that people have blocked this shawl. Some block the diamond points as well, or instead of the ones I used. MMario's original was blocked as a flat circle. I looked at them all and preferred this effect.

And here's a center detail showing the beginning of the QAL's exquisite spiral. It reminds me of a mandala, as do many of MMario's designs. I'm still hoping for the Compass Rose he's mentioned. The man is brilliant, and I'm so glad I helped set up his group almost two years ago.

This shawl will be a gift to my mother-in-law, Dorothy. Her birthday is the 8th, and we're all gathering next weekend, so I will get the maximum brownie points with all the family there to see it. :-) Since I haven't told them about this blog - the better to kvetch when I need to! - no one will spoil the surprise because they saw it here. Dorothy loves purples as much as I, and has a friend in church who, she tells me, wears the most beautiful shawls. As subtle hints go, it was a little broad, but hey, at least she didn't use a baseball bat.

Seriously, she's a lovely lady who's gone on very bravely after losing her husband of 51 years. She deserves something pretty in which to wrap herself.

More Baby Stuff

2009-09-29T12:38:00.004-04:00

I thought some knitting content would be nice. Since I'm a row and half from binding off MMario's Queen Anne's Lace, the next post will almost certainly be of that, and the story behind my version. But in the meantime, I couldn't resist using some leftover yarn (from a pair of socks I had done for myself) to make these utterly adorable baby socks. They are the Tiny Treasures Baby Socks by Terry Liann Morris. Pattern available here.

Yes, it's true that they are not exact mates. Neither are the ones made for me. I think they're WAY more interesting to look at that way, and since babies are very responsive to visual stimuli, maybe the little one due in a month will like them. Anyway, I do. I really like being able to use leftover yarn to make them.

I tossed the dime in there to give you some idea of scale, and I used the dime because I found it, and it was still in my pocket. I'm nothing if not lazy, although I DID bend over to pick up the dime. Free money is in the budget. :-)

Thanks For Asking.

2009-09-15T21:57:00.003-04:00

Yes, I have been very quiet of late. Without boring you with a lot of detail, I got pretty sick last month, which is very unlike me. Thought I was better, and went back to work, just to relapse. Not pretty. Since then I've been playing catchup, and trying to help rearrange most of our house. We decided to rent the lower floor which has been basically unused since my daughter's family moved out, and we had to do quite a bit to get it ready. The DH did much of the work down there, and I rearranged things upstairs to accomodate the moving of furniture, etc.

But today at the studio we had a visitor I thought you might like to see. As you can probably tell, he was a very young visitor! Only about five inches long in body, and not much fluff yet to his tail.I think he's growing into these legs of his; I've never seen a squirrel look frog-legged before. And no, he's not blinking - he actually dozed off while we were gathered around him, and the DH took these pictures. Our employee Stephanie, who brought him some unsalted peanuts we had, and a peanut butter granola bar she had, nicknamed him "Peanut Butter."

This is my favorite shot, full of squirrelitude. What do you mean that's not a word? Just look at that face and tell Peanut Butter that!

I promise to be better, but no less squirrelly, in keeping you up-to-date. :-)

Hatter up!

2009-07-17T16:08:00.005-04:00

No, not a typo, you silly wabbits. A pun for a little knitting content today.

Last month Gary offered me some more of Witt's yarn - mostly bits and pieces, odd balls (NOT a pun) that are unidentified. I put some that I knew I wouldn't use aside because Gary also intended to donate some yarn to a local guild of which Witt was a member.

So what to do with the bits? Witt used to make a lot of baby hats for charity and I thought of all the friends and relatives that have recently announced that they were expecting. Now, I have an issue, because I don't know what most of these yarns ARE. For sure they were not easy-care acrylic. Most serious knitters don't stash that. First, you can find it anywhere, but mostly because we're yarn snobs. We don't even have the grace to be ashamed of it. Even superwash wool is considered suspect by some. Now, I'll knit with the stuff if I am making a baby gift for a young mother, or someone else I know simply will not - or cannot - take the time to hand wash a garment. My preferences don't matter in a gift, those of the recipient do. So whomever receives a hat knit with some of Witt's yarn will not only have to be very special, but be willing to take that bit of extra care.

Since we were heading to the Outer Banks for the long weekend of the Fourth, courtesy of my brother-in-law's generosity in sharing the house he rents, I needed some quick car knits. Guess what I took? :-} One very bright striped wool, one muted that I think is or has in it some alpaca. (read: Goddess Crack). I knit one hat on the way down.

Then I knit this one down there. Pretty much have to be a girl's hat, but so bright! Babies love bright colors.

And the bottom one is knit with some yarn I picked up while I was down there, in the great "Knitting Addiction" shop. It is easy-care yarn, and it has what my friend Elaine calls "scrunch." You don't want scrunch. Knitting with it has the effect of biting into styrofoam. Never done that? Try it, tell me what you think. BUT...the hat is freakin' adorable! I call it Cherry Baby (any Four Seasons fans?), but you could duplicate stitch or knit in a few seeds and make it a strawberry or call it a tomato - I don't much care. I did the leaves spontaneously and just love the effect. I think I have enough to do a second. Maybe pick up some yellow and do a lemon. Or a pumpkin with rust. Or a blueberry!

I think Witt would have liked it, anyway. He loved people using patterns as springboards. I know he made me a braver knitter.

Now if I can just be a braver person, too. Things are at a bit of a crossroads in my life. Prayers and happy thoughts for a good outcome are very deeply appreciated.

Bright Spot

2009-07-12T12:14:00.007-04:00

As you know if you've read this for awhile, I moderate and/or own (there is a distinction which is not my own) several Yahoo groups. Most are knitting-related.

There are a LOT of knitting patterns out there. Some are free, in the public domain. Most are not. They are instead copyrighted works, the product of some creator's hard work and often, at least part of what puts food on their table. As you might expect, there are a lot of people who work to subvert that, sharing patterns illegally, even going so far as to sell reproductions of work still under copyright law on sites like eBay, which is just too large an organization to catch them all.

Sometimes, I understand people's frustration. There are patterns by designers whose names are legendary that simply are not currently available in print. Strenuous efforts to get them re-released, or the copyright re-assigned for publication are often fruitless. Buying originals is often far too expensive for the average knitter...no one is more average than I! But there is no pattern out there so marvelous that breaking the law to obtain it is okay.

As you also might expect, as someone who earns a living under copyright law, I'm pretty stringent about protecting the rights of others. I am not a lawyer, but I'm also not an idiot, whatever you may have heard. I've read the copyright law and it's mostly common sense. If you didn't create it, it's not yours to sell or otherwise disseminate. Pretty simple, one would think. But at least three or four times a year, mostly on one particular list, I have to rein in someone from feeling they are above the law. Oh, I know they don't think of it that way, but it's what it boils down to.

The most recent was someone wanting help with translating a stitch legend. She chose to try to do it by posting a photo of the legend on the list. That's reproducing a copyrighted work, and I didn't permit the photo to go through. Another list member got on her high-horse, stating that was not a copyright violation, because you cannot copyright an idea or process. True. But this isn't an idea or process, it's a portion of a printed pattern. She countered that she was a designer (I've never seen anything by her) and that she had studied copyright law for a year. Feeling a bit snippy - I know you're astonished - I reminded her that that that didn't make a copyright lawyer of her, and that as long as I was moderating the list, I would err on the side of caution and designers. I added that the conversation was over, and to her credit, she stopped. Most of them don't!

Now, I have to say this gets old. But today, someone who is extremely well-known in the area of lace design in the U.S. wrote to me. She is one of several prominent designers on this list. Since I haven't asked her permission, I won't use her name, but this is what she wrote:

"Hi Diana, Thank you for taking care of the laceknitters list so well.
Just wanted to let you know that I really appreciate it. Cheers! "

To quote Ruth Gordon when she won the Academy Award, "I can't tell you how encouraging a thing like this is." It reminds me again of something I try to practice, and sometimes fail...if you have a pleasant thought or compliment you're thinking about someone, voice it! You never know when that small word of encouragement will be the best thing that happens to them all day.

It sure made mine!

Everybody Into the Pool!

2009-06-18T16:36:00.003-04:00

Last Tuesday, a nice lady and her also nice mother stopped into the studio unexpectedly. They had a hand-tinted photo that they wanted to have restored, wondering if we did that kind of work. Kinda. It's my favorite thing to do here, because as much as I like working on the DH's photos, this is something that's just my skill, you know? It's true; I don't play well with others.

The piece is badly faded, bowed, and damaged. You can see here the big pieces that are flecked away, but there are tons of smaller areas that are gone too. The whole was mounted in a frame that has convex glass, and you can see the unusual shape. For those of you that have never been, it's obviously the Washington Monument, and the Tidal Basin in Washington, D.C. I believe the trees are full of cherry blossoms. While they're hard to view here (the original is about 20" wide) there are men and women in clothing that looks to be circa WWI to me. High hats, frock coats, full beards...but it's only a guess. One of my hobby-horses - date your pictures for future generations!

Now here is what a few hours of my time has wrought...a little more time, I confess, than I charged her for, but I know you'll be stunned to hear I'm a bit of a perfectionist. Lest you think I did all the coloring, much of it came back using the techniques I know. I added a hint of pink to the trees, and touched up the sky a smidge. The original color that showed where the frame had protected it was actually a very deep, almost robin's egg color, and I didn't want to go that far. It would look too fakey here, even though I have seen the sky that color in D.C. Now off to the lab for printing, and we'll cut it down to fit the owners frame.Ironically, as I was finishing this up we got a mail piece for some company in our town that was advertising their retouching prowess to my DH. Somehow I think he's happy with the person he already has.

Greed

2009-06-13T13:48:00.004-04:00

As some of you know, the origins of this blog lie in my inability to suffer fools gladly. Unfortunately, there are just so dang many of 'em out there, and way more than my share (pretty sure) find their ways into my life and business. Today we had a prime example.

Every year, we do pictures for several local dance studios. For two of them we do the traditional posed costume pictures, and for them and a third, we do action pictures. We take them during dress rehearsal and sell them to slavering parents who circle our sales table as if they were Great Whites and the photos were delicious chum. We refer to this as the "feeding frenzy," and cupcake, lemme tell you, it can get ugly.

Dance parents can be some of the most seriously entitled people (And what does your Goddess say about that, boys and girls? Right...no one is entitled but me. And today, the DH. It's his birthday.) that you'd never want to meet. Let's face it. By definition, most of these people have fairly substantial money. They pay for the classes, and judging by the remodeling one local studio owner just did to her home, they pay handsomely. And she earns it, don't get me wrong! They pay for costumes, where one silly, but cute, little hat can cost $25. Just the hat! Add shoes, tights, unitards and usually several iterations for different classes. Then there's competitions, extra lessons...let's just say that the pictures they purchase from us are just a small drop in the bucket.

Which is why, to my mind - a relatively good mind, all things considered and don't ask what things, it's none of your business - it's ridiculous for a few of them to behave as they do over these action pictures. Let me fill you in on how these work. Our photographers shoot the actual dances, aiming to get a few pictures of each child in each costume. Sometimes this is difficult. In very large classes, not everyone gets to the front. Often a picture where one child is centered will have a couple other dimpled darlings on either side.

After our first time selling, about ten years ago, we had to set up rules. Since these are one-of pictures, we tell the parent that they may only purchase a picture if their child is centered and in focus. If you cannot tell which child is the focus of the picture, we will tell you, and our ruling is final. This prevents greedy parents buying pictures because their child's elbow is in it....and oh! How I wish I were kidding! I have had parents call me from the field, wanting me to chew out my employees for not letting them have a photo. Guess what folks? Won't happen. I back my people 100%.

So last night, our most senior employee and an assistant were selling photos for one dance studio, while the DH was shooting at a reception for the local high school baseball team that just won state champions. Our employee warned us this morning that he had a grandmother who threw "a hizzy" (his words) because he wouldn't let her take a picture. Why? Because said picture was of the dance studio owner doing a major leap across the stage, with a group of children seated on hay bales behind her. This woman's child happened to be seated in the crowd on the bale! So of COURSE the picture was about her, not the featured dancer, right? Wrong. As it was, the woman went away with fifteen photos, for which she paid the amount we set for the 13 to 20 photos range. Now understand, these photos are also available for purchase online. Since they aren't mass-printed like the ones we sell on location, they do cost more, but she can get that shot if she really wants to.

Cut to today. Same woman, as we later find out, calls. We have action shots from last year. Usually excess are destroyed after six months, but through an oversight, these weren't yet. Our employee mentioned to several parents that they were still here if they didn't get to see them last year, hoping for some extra sales. When this lady calls, she tells us that since she bought in the up to 20 price range, she wants to come in to look at last year's work and get the additional pictures to "make up to twenty." She further tells the DH that the employee told her she could do this, and she is on her way in.

What? I think not. This guy has worked for us for 8 years, he knows that we don't combine deals across years or different jobs. For example, you cannot buy pictures from football and expect to combine them with baseball and get a price break. Never been done. So we call him up and ask what he ACTUALLY said. Nothing of the kind, of course. He told her he was just an employee and couldn't make deals. All he did was write on her envelope the number of pictures she bought, the amount, and his initials. No promise of anything else. Nor did he agree that we owe her more pictures so that she gets to the upper end of that 13-20 range. And he informs us this is the person who had the fit last night. Greeeeeeeaaaaaaaaat.

Woman arrives, and DH goes out to wait on her. He clarifies to her the policy on whose picture is whose, and the pricing structure. He tells her, very politely, that she got what she paid for, and if she wants additional photos, she'll have pay for them too. She maintains an even voice tone, but she is ticked and letting him know. According to her, the honor of our company is on the line. Our employee promised and wrote his initials to prove it. Of course, no promise is written on there at all. She would not have driven an hour and a half (later she admits she drove 20 minutes out of her way) and from another state without his word having been given. The DH points out after looking through her envelope that she even managed to snag another child's photo without being spotted, but doesn't take it from her, probably because he values his fingers. Remember the chum analogy.

As I walk down the hall from the office to the kitchette, she's holding forth about how she has a management position in DC (oh, there's an endorsement) and she knows a company should treat a person better, because "you don't know who they are." She also tells the DH that he is not living up to HIS expectations! Really? And you know what they are how, exactly?

I come back up the hall, and interject that she's right. We don't know who she is, but we do know our employee, we know he knows our policies and she doesn't, so out of the two, we know who probably misunderstood. She wants to know if I think she's making this up. I reply again that I feel she misunderstood, but that I know she was not promised what she thinks she was. She tells me she would not have driven all this way without being told that, and I informed her in polite terms that that was kinda the definition of "misunderstood." With what I felt was admirable restraint, I omitted the "DUH" I felt the situation called for. I'm sure you're proud.

Then she capped it with a threat to badmouth our company on all the social networking sites and the internet. I reminded her that libel laws were alive and well. She has absolutely nothing promising her anything, and while I also refrained from saying it to her, her greed-induced misunderstanding is not our fault.

The most fun part of it all was after she and her companion left. I turned to the DH and opined that she spent more in gas to come here than she would have saved getting the five extra pictures she mistakenly felt she was owed.

Now I can say it. "DUH!!!!"

"And Flights of Angels...

2009-05-28T15:54:00.003-04:00

...sing thee to thy rest." We said our goodbyes to Witt today in a lovely, tasteful service in his beautiful family church in Georgetown, in the District of Columbia.

This is the first time we've seen Gary since Witt's passing, and the hug was that much harder and longer because of it. He's doing well, at least externally. He'd asked us to print a picture of Witt and put a signature mat around it to have at the reception, so we got there early so he might have a chance to see it before time for the service. This was something he really wanted for himself, and I'm so glad we had one handy for him.

A lot of things were very meaningful to me. Psalm 121 was read aloud by all of us, and it contains a favorite verse of mine, "I lift mine eyes unto the hills..." I used to never be sure which I needed more in my life, the beach, or mountains. I decided awhile ago that the beach is for relaxing, and the mountains for living. So this verse was poignant, especially since it was at the cabin in the hills that he loved to visit that Witt moved on from us.

What moved me most...and judging by sniffles I heard, others too!...was when Witt's doctor of more than 20 years stood to pay tribute to him. Dr. Kane knew Witt very well, and his words had weight because of it. He said the first thing one grew to know about Witt, once you got past the externals, was that he didn't suffer fools gladly. This drew grins; we all knew that. It was something that initially attracted Witt and I to one another, when I used that phrase about myself - I know you're surprised - in an early email exchange. When he found someone rude, or foolish, or ridiculous in a non-pleasing way (he loved the kind of ridiculousness that was pure fun), one eyebrow would go up, his face would grow even longer, and he'd produce a gimlet stare that quickly reduced any idiots to gibbering. I loved it. Wish I could pull it off.

Dr. Kane spoke of Witt's presence - not just his size which was 6'7" if you never met him, but the sheer volume of his personality. You could not only not miss Witt, you could never ignore him. You wouldn't want to. He was a magnet, and we mere iron filings.

Then Dr. Kane brought me to tears. He made the point that over the years, Witt knew what was important to him, and guarded it fiercely and loyally. Family and friends. Knitting. Peace. He winnowed away the non-essentials to live his life as fully as he could, in the way he wished, every day. And Dr. Kane reminded us that this meant if Witt gave his time and caring to you, that he valued you, and your friendship; that you mattered very much. Thinking of all the times we spent together, even just sitting over a cup of coffee or visiting his and Gary's apartment and talking for hours, I realized more than ever how honored by his friendship we've been. And I grieve that little bit more.

One worry laid well to rest - Gary was treated with the utmost respect as Witt's partner and chief mourner. One never knows how some clergy view gays, but the rector was kind and deferential toward Gary and the rest of Witt's family.

It gives you an idea of the esteem in which Witt was held that a daytime service, midweek, in the crowded District, was so well-attended that it took about an hour for everyone to pass through the three person receiving line. And that was even when a few of us didn't take up the space because we'd spoken to everyone in the family earlier. Over and over I saw laughter mixing with tears as people shared, often with strangers, how they knew Witt and the profound effect he had had on them.

We were one of the last to leave, speaking again to his mom, sister, and Gary. We had closed our studio until four, giving us plenty of time to get home. We were quiet driving back, both pensive. The DH mentioned an errand he need to run on the way, and we decided to stop for lunch. As we ate an appetizer, I remarked that I felt like we were playing hooky, now that the service was over, and I liked the feeling. I suggested that we do it more often; take a day where we had no appointments, leave SuzyG the receptionist in charge, and just take off. Do a mental health day.

After the man who really knew how to live, we've decided to call them Witt Days. We'll use them to look for both peace and fun, recover our wits, such as they are, and go on.

A Touch

2009-05-23T18:26:00.003-04:00

Most of you don’t know me, of course, but I’m a pretty pragmatic person. But something that defies my logic happened today which I think you might appreciate.

A few months ago, my loyal followers know, we were taking pictures at a farm that has many peacocks. We came back with a bouquet of tail feathers the owner gave me. I gave a small one to Witt and Gary for Mattie, their cat, to play with.

We’ve been shooting this week at a dance studio which we do annually...it’s a full week commitment to costumes, tap and ballet shoes, and adorableness. This morning was the end, with the Tiny Tots, and we were packing up our cars to take things back to our photo studio. It's exhausting, and it was hot out, not to mention lunch time, so we packed as quickly as we could.

Now, I had been the only person in my car this morning, and it had been locked at the studio. But when I came out, there was a small peacock feather on the passenger seat. It was not there when I drove in. I have no peacock feathers at the house. We hadn’t taken any of the feathers to the dance studio, nor were there any on any of the 30+ types of costume we shot. There is no logical explanation I can see, and I've never experienced anything like this before.

I spoke with Gary for quite awhile this afternoon; the first time we've really had to just talk, not discuss details of the service being held for Witt on Thursday. When I told Gary about the feather, he didn't seem surprised at all. Then he told me he came back from a walk today to find a tiny three-leaf clover laying on the center of his keyboard, waiting for him. We both feel Witt was saying hello, and being Witt, found a clever and meaningful way to do it for each of us.

I've been asked to read some passages of scripture at Witt's memorial service. Please offer a prayer that I may keep it together, giving him the honor he deserves, and providing comfort for us all.

In Sorrow

2009-05-20T13:33:00.004-04:00

Almost exactly two years ago, I saw a post on my EZasPi list saying that the poster lived in a town just a little south of my home. I said hello, mentioned that we were local to one another, and that, dear Blogees, was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

His name was Witt, and he and his partner Gary had recently moved from the DC area. As we began exchanging emails, I found him to live up to his name - very witty, funny and playful. We were about the same age, and had a lot in common. I'm not a woman who makes friends easily, by my definition of friend. I have a lots of friendly acquaintances, sure. But for me, friendship is an intensely loyal and deep commitment. Sometimes, as in the case of my best bud in high school, someone I've known quite awhile breaks through in a moment of closeness, and stays there always. And sometimes, as with Witt and Gary, I never get a chance to throw up any of my habitual reserve, and they were in my heart right away.

A couple weeks after meeting online, the "Boyz" as they and we called them, showed up unexpectedly at our studio. We talked for hours. From then on, we would get together about twice a month, either for a movie or a bite to eat, coffee or just a chat at their apartment. Usually we'd pair off...Witt and I talking books and fiber arts, Gary and the DH whatever caught their fancy. We had that lucky friendship where everyone in both couples likes everyone else.

A year and a half ago, Witt and Gary honored me by asking me to officiate at their commitment ceremony. It was a lovely affair, just a dozen people at a favorite local restaurant/lounge. The DH did the photos, and they were beautiful too. The two of them completed one another in the ways I love to see in the happiest of couples, the way I'm lucky enough to have with my DH.

All the time I've known him, Witt's health has been compromised by HIV, and over that time, I've seen his energy levels go down. Anything we did together needed to be earlier in the day, because later he was too worn. A fever could spike out of nowhere. Meds needed adjusting. But I never saw or talked to him that his outlook wasn't positive and generous, that he wasn't full of laughter and love.

That light went out today in this world, and it's burning ever so brightly in another. Gary called this morning as we were on our way to work, and told me Witt passed on in his sleep. They were staying in a friend's cabin high up on a mountain side, as they did whenever they wanted to get away. They'd planned to go up today, but Witt pressed to leave yesterday, and that's where he left us. I can't help wondering if he had an inkling, or if he just wanted to be somewhere peaceful. He gave me a lot of yarn a few weeks ago, and that had me wondering if he wasn't feeling something then, too. The shock of hearing that he was gone so abruptly was beyond words. Witt was larger than life in so many ways, and the hole he's left behind, well...it will never fill.

People sometimes say of a loss that they know how you feel. I can't imagine how Gary feels. I can all too easily imagine how I'd feel if I lost my husband, and the horror is more than I can bear. All I can do is try to be sure we're there for Gary, and help him take the one step at a time the way that he told me he was doing this morning.

You know that mascara that forms tubes on your lashes, won't flake or run, but washes off with plenty of warm water? Guess what tears are made of? Witt would have appreciated the knowledge. It really sucks that I can't call and tell him.

Health Care

2009-05-15T11:30:00.005-04:00

We're at a crossroads in this country, sez I, and I'm sincerely hoping we take the right path. Specifically I'm hoping we take it in the area of health care, by passing the President's plan to cover everyone in America. Personally, I'd like to see the sort of universal health care that the UK and Canada enjoy, but I can live with the Obama administration's plan.

"Live with" being the important term. I can give you the big picture, maybe better than some folks because I lived in England for six years. Yes, sometimes you have to wait a bit to be seen for non-critical items. Like you don't have to do that here now? In spite of what a Big Bucks gentleman's commercials would have you believe, I don't know a single Brit or Canuck who wants what we have, and I know several.

I could also point out to you that we already have universal health care, and I lived under that too, when I was an Air Force wife. Yes, I couldn't always count on seeing the same doctor. But I got great care, and I didn't pay a cent. We made less than we would have on the economy as a trade off, but only having to pay for my meals when I had my two C-sections? So worth it.

So please understand, I do have a fair idea of what I speak. For that matter, I usually do or I don't open my mouth. :-) But today I'm going to ask you to support this health care plan for all our sakes, and specifically, share why I need you to do so.

As you know, the DH and I are self-employed. Yes, we struggle some in this economy. But we struggle far more than we should to provide health insurance for ourselves. In 2001, when we had to purchase said insurance, we found it excruciatingly difficult. We finally got Mega Life and Health through the National Association for the Self-Employed. Would seem to be an excellent thing, yes? A group plan for those of us whom we're always told are the backbone of America. Maybe we are, but I think we're losing spinal fluid at an alarming rate. In the 8 years we've had the policy, our premium has more than doubled. We had to raise our deductible to $7,500 EACH just to keep it as "only" doubled...and needless to say, we don't have anything like that if we were seriously ill. To be fair, during that time I was diagnosed with Type II Diabetes, but I'm very compliant and on the most minimal and generic medication there is.

And this policy covers almost nothing. One doctor visit a quarter is covered - with a co-pay; do you know any doctor that sees you for anything substantial then doesn't want to see you back in a week or two? I have to pay that out-of-pocket. I did physical therapy to avoid having to undergo anesthesia and a manipulation to unfreeze my shoulder, thereby saving them money, right? Sure did, because they refused to pay for the PT unless it was after surgery. All that, out of pocket. The prescription plan has a deductible, a co-pay, AND a cap of $1,000. With what the drug companies make in America, that gets eaten up FAST. I actually get my generic diabetes med cheaper at WalMart than I do in the plan I PAY FOR!

So we're now trying to get policy through Blue Cross Blue Shield. A very reputable company, which we now know Mega is not...they are dissed by everyone who is stuck with them. We went to an insurance broker, told him everything about us, and he got a quote for us. The underwriters quoted us at Tier 4. Middle-of-the-road, 1 being best, 7 being you're next to terminal. Based on the deductible we could live with, we'd be paying a little more monthly, but it would be real coverage, and we were delighted. We went in and did the official paperwork, hoping to have it in place by the beginning of the month.

A few days later, our agent called. They came back with us on Tier 7! Nothing changed, no new conditions, and he was as shocked as we were. I flat told him, absolving him, of course, that I felt this was fraudulent, a classic bait-and-switch. We asked what we could do to appeal. He didn't know, having never had this happen to him! We asked our physician to write a letter for us, and bless him, he did, stating that through my own efforts my blood sugar is well within normal, and I could probably even go off the med for it. He added that there was no reason I shouldn't be at a lower tier. The agent faxed that to his contact, and they came back at Tier 6. However, he also had us write a letter directly to BCBS Underwriting, giving us word for word what it should say, also including the doctor's letter. We've not heard back anything from that, and it's been about two weeks. Prayers are welcome.

A doctor recently told me that we were playing Russian Roulette, having the insurance (so-called) that we do, and he's absolutely correct. And folks, that shouldn't be. We work hard. We don't make much, and we're paying on health insurance about half what our house payment is. In this country, where we have so much, people working their butts off shouldn't have to be afraid of losing everything just because the insurance industry is greedy.

Do you know the majority of bankruptcies are due to health care costs? Trust me. I am afraid. One of us gets seriously ill, and we have to chose between treatment and losing everything. And we are very much not alone. So please, for the sake of all of us, let's get real coverage for all Americans.

I'd sure sleep better.

Just Because

2009-05-04T21:56:00.003-04:00

A DJ friend of mine posted this on Facebook, and although I should know better, I have to pass it on.

Meanwhile, the SIL is at it again. I may have to verbally rip her a new one. I am SO good at that!

A Quickie

2009-04-28T17:29:00.002-04:00

Just a small smile....I don't know why anyone would be surprised that Senator Arlen Specter decided today to change parties and become a Democrat. After all, the man is 79, and has fought cancer three times.

He's trying to make it into Heaven!

Stitches of Looooove

2009-04-10T11:34:00.006-04:00

This is my 100th post. No cards necessary, unless they be gift cards.

"Stitches of Love" has become a sort of inside joke between the DH and I. It began first, I think, when I was knitting the Lily of the Valley stole for my younger daughter. It was meant to be a wedding gift, and I worked on it very constantly until the wedding was called off. Later, it was a gift before the wedding that did happen. She's a constant challenge, this kid.

Anyway, when I was working on it, I was very full of hope for her, and sentimentally (yes, even I succumb occasionally!), I felt a bit of hope, a dream, some love, was caught up in every stitch. When I said this to the DH, it became Stitches of Loooooooooooooove. LOL.

The laughter continued when I began a gansey sweater for him. He'd look at me and say, "Knit, knit, knit!" to which I'd reply, "Stitches of Looooooooooove!" Then the darling man (humph) lost thirty pounds. I stopped work on the sweater, feeling a wool swimming pool would not flatter him in the least.

Two years later, and I've finally taken heart to try again. This time it's a beautifully cabled aran sweater called Iain. Put out by Figheadh Yarnworks, you cannot purchase it directly from them, but I got it from Patternworks. It calls for Cascade's Ecological Wool, and I let the DH pick his color. Thing is, he picked Awassi, which is a lovely tan and white marled yarn. I was really worried that the texture wouldn't show up well in a non-solid, but I think I worried needlessly.

I began the sweater on Feb. 26th, and in spite of having to write a history paper about Elizabeth I and Mary of Scots (with footnotes and bibliography) which was about 11 pages, I'm still making good progress. It's worked circularly until it divides for the armholes...done that, and I'm almost done the back. This is a detail. Note that since it's unblocked, the center cable is puckered like it's been sucking on a lemon. It hasn't. The smaller side cable is a bit compressed too, but it won't be when it's washed and blocked.

You can see all the cable work here, the broad double-cabling in the middle and then the two simpler cables on either side. The rest of the texturing is a lovely basketweave. This color is a bit more true.

And another angle that shows just how much that center cable is drawing in. Flattened out there is almost a full inch of purl at the narrowest part of the cable. It looks so cool, doesn't it? And even without blocking to make it pop, there's plenty of texture easily seen.

This sweater has the added benefit of having given us another phrase - "Cables of Cuddles." Yes, we're ridiculous together.

But I know you won't tell.

Dignity

2009-04-09T16:29:00.003-04:00

As those of you who've read my profile blurb know, I'm a wedding officiant. Those of you that haven't read it, go 'head. We'll wait. {humming the "Saving Grace" theme. Seriously great song.} You back? Okay.

Today I got a call for my services. A local alterations/tuxedo place has some of my cards, and this lady, whose name is Brandon, interestingly enough, picked one up. I sensed some hesitancy right away. That's not too unusual. For most brides, this is the first time that they have done anything like this, and they aren't sure what they should be asking, or need to know. I try to gently lead them into the information we both need.

But that wasn't the reason for this bride's hesitancy, although there were several. First, she's Catholic, from a big Italian family. Her fiance is a WASP, and they don't want to wait a year for him to convert to be married in the Church. So while they want a wedding expressing faith, there's a bit of a line to walk. Not a problem. Many of my couples are of mixed, little or no faith whatsoever. I reassure her on this point.

She tells me that many ministers want them to join their church before they'll do a service. Ludicrous, to my mind; being forced to join a congregation is hardly a recipe for a meaningful religious experience. Others won't do an outdoor wedding - I've done more outside than in.

I learned long ago that when someone has an objection to something you're trying to sell, or win them over to, that the third objection or problem is the real one. And so it was. Brandon opens with, "I'll be honest with you; we've talked to another non-denominational minister." Okay. I have a pretty good idea who that is, there aren't many around here, and more about her shortly. Brandon continued, telling me that the minister wasn't happy with them doing their own vows in addition to the traditional ones, and I haven't any problems with that, as long as they are respectful. I don't care if they provoke laughter, you understand, just not be rude. The bride assures me they'll be in good taste.

Then the kicker. Brandon has an autistic son whom she wants to be the ring-bearer. The other minister said she wouldn't be responsible for that, that Brandon would have to provide someone to walk with him down the aisle so that, and I quote, "...he won't freak out."

Do I need to tell you that said minister lost this service? Whether I get it or not (her phone was dying and she'll need to call me back), there is no way in Hades this couple would hire her. This mother is mortally offended and well she should be. Her son is used to her family, and she is surely the best judge of whether or not he is capable of being her ring-bearer. It's just outrageous that this minister had the nerve to say this.

I'm not surprised, though. I've sadly heard way too many stories about her. A DJ with whom we've worked many times told me the first. He was doing a wedding, and the bride is frantic because it's past time for the service to start and the minister is not there. When she finally does arrive, she insists on the remainder of her payment being made upfront before she'll start the service, stressing the bride even more, and disrupting everything.

Now, I'm all about getting the green upfront, doncha know? But I do it no later than a week before the wedding so it's one less thing to worry about for the bride and groom. I certainly wouldn't hold up a service for which I were late (has never happened, btw) to demand payment. After all, the marriage isn't legal till the minister signs the license, and if you're worried about payment, you just wait to do that part till you're paid. No muss, no fuss. This minister also touts her 'counseling' the couple. I don't believe in counseling a couple; most ministers have little to no psychology training (I do and still don't force-feed counseling on them) and most couples resent the imposition. But I've been twice told that her much-vaunted counseling consists of a five-minute meeting to get the contract signed and get a deposit...at least once in a McDonalds!

Of course, I cannot tell brides any of this without looking bad myself. But I'm furious for Brandon's sake, and for my own. This woman is giving those of us that really care about making the day all the bride dreams of a bad name. And no one has the right to rob a child of being a part of his mother's wedding day, even if it might require a bit more effort.

A minister shouldn't just behave with at least a modicum of dignity. She should make sure she accords it to everyone else, too.

...And LIKE It!

2009-03-28T11:01:00.002-04:00

There's a commercial out now that makes steam come out of my ears. Most men would find that alarming in their wives, my DH just reminds me I have a blog for such things. Have I mentioned his brilliance?

Anyway, in this commercial, Mom is using her phone/computer hybrid to get and try out a new recipe. It's reading her step-by-step instructions on how to make paella. Now, I should, in the interest of fairness, mention that paella (pronounced pah-A-yah, long A in the middle) is the fruit of the gods. I have eaten paella in three different countries, and it's my favorite dish. So Mom, all excited, emails her family "Paella for dinner tonight!" Should be happy dancin' all 'round, right?

Wrong. Snarly teenage son gets the text on his phone, and immediately leaves Mom a voice mail, "I don't know what Pah-ella is, but I'm not touching it!" Mom shrugs philosophically, picks up the phone, and orders a pizza.

WTF?!?! Not in MY house! Freakin' brat doesn't like what's put on the table, and he can go hungry. There are starving children in (insert any country here...they all have starving kids, sadly), and you turn up your nose at my cooking? And then expect me to order and pay for another meal for you? I don't THINK so. Especially when you haven't even tried the paella, let alone know what it is.

I grew up in a house with four kids, and parents who were public servants. There were plenty of nights where meat was scarcer than I'd have liked, or soups were made from stock boiled from a chicken carcass, and stretched with macaroni. Chili would get rice added for the second night, and to this day I'm not big on baked beans, it being a cheap protein Mom had to serve often.

In my parent's home, you ate what was on your plate, and you better not gripe. In the economic climate we're in, where so many of our neighbors are struggling, it's a good lesson to be teaching our kids...be grateful you HAVE food on your plate.

Unless it's peas. Then I'll revert to childhood, fill my mouth with them, and suddenly need to visit the bathroom. ;-)

Glorious

2009-03-27T10:51:00.002-04:00

I've been really enjoying watching and listening to this and thought you might too. It's a much better camera view than the one on our local nest. Enjoy!

Glass Houses

2009-03-26T10:07:00.003-04:00

I'm in a lather today, and not because my legs need shaved. They do, but that's a different story. No, today is a personal matter, so I'm going to share it with all of you. :-)

As many of you know, my father-in-law passed away last May, leaving behind his wife of fifty years. While their daughter lives local to their mother in VA, their sons live in two of the surrounding states, and in Chicago. Not a 'whip around the corner and check on Mom' kinda sitch. So my DH has been very good about calling his mom more frequently, and we've gone down to see her more than we did when my FIL (Father In Law, if you aren't familiar) was alive. It's a bit over an hour through lousy traffic and bad roads to get there, and being self-employed means we have a smidge less time than the 9-5 crowd, but all in all, we're not doing too badly by our lights.

The problem? My SIL (you can work it out, right?). She is partially employed in a church pre-school program, has one kid in high school and one 20 year old who's employed full-time and living at home. She was a huge help in straightening out Dad's estate, the bit that needed done, and on her falls the responsibility for going to doctor appointments with Mom. Not that Mom can't drive perfectly well; she can. But it suits the SIL's chronic martyrdom to schlepp Mom to this stuff, then fill everyone else in while simultaneously telling us how difficult it all is, and by the way, we don't do enough. Every email tells us what we NEED to do...call Mom, visit Mom, send Mom a card.

I have resented this all along on many levels. First, the SIL is now paying back for a LOT of help over the years. She has, by her own admission, never had to hire a babysitter. She's had enough free meals to stock a restaurant. None of her brothers have had these kind of benefits. To my mind, aside from the natural duty one owes good parents...and these are very good people!...she owes considerably more.

Second, these men are all in their late forties/early fifties. I honest to God don't think they need their baby sister to tell them how to have a relationship with their mother. It's neither her place, nor her business. And third, it's counterproductive. No one likes to be nagged!

This has been chaffing my tail for awhile, but for me, it came to head last night. About 10 minutes before I got out of class, the DH posted on Facebook that he was sitting in the car, listening to tunes and waiting for me. She posts back that he "should call his mother; she misses his Wed. night calls."

What? He has called her precisely ONCE on a Wed. He usually avoids that, knowing she's at church on that evening and being unsure when she gets home. She snipes back that Mom is home by 8, same as he called before.

For your smiling, even-tempered Goddess, this is the final straw. But of course, this isn't my sister. My one sister who would act like this, I'd have no compunction about ripping a new one. Not fair of me to cause a rift in a family that I only married into, right? So I posted a comment, saying, "Hey, knock it off! I'm the only one that gets to nag him. :-)" The smile softening it, of course. Ha.

This morning she posts back that it is 'not a nag, just a suggestion.' Really, sweetie? I don't think so. A suggestion happens once. When every email and text and message ends with a 'do this for Mom', it's flippin' nagging. I'm here to tell you.

But you know what? I am VERY good at suggestions. I have a few for SIL. First, get a life. Okay, a little non-specific, but this woman does nothing that isn't circumscribed by church or family. Second, quit babying your children! Her 20 year old daughter who works full-time is still living at home, which a lot of people are in this economy, but to the best of my knowledge she is not paying anything toward her upkeep. And get this...she doesn't DRIVE! Mommy takes her to work and everywhere else she goes. SIL says she wouldn't want her daughter to try driving if she's scared to...even with a free car that Grandma has upgraded from. Of course she's scared; she's spoon fed it, because if she drives, she's out from Mommy's control. Growing up means putting on your big girl panties and dealing with it. Although a pretty young woman, she's never had a boyfriend. Mom and Grandma take pride in the fact that she's not interested in boys (not girls, that's not it); I say it's freakish for a woman her age.

THEN I would suggest she take her 14 year old son to an obesity specialist. The boy has back boobs and waddles, I kid you not. His parents constantly undercut his diet. I've been at a restaurant with them where he tried to substitute a salad for fries on a meal. When the waitress said she could add a salad, but not remove fries from the cost, his dad said to bring 'em anyway, and then both he and his son ate them all. I've seen the kid polish off a whole basket of dinner rolls without one word from his folks.

But let a teacher mention that maybe he's too heavy and needs some help, and Mommy raises holy hell and gets said teacher sanctioned, losing a year of raises. For speaking the truth! He has no friends, and no social life outside church. His uncle the EMT has speculated that the boy will have diabetes soon if he doesn't already, and it will be a miracle if he gets out of his twenties without a heart attack. I suggest that with the rampant hypochondria she and these kids have, maybe she should pay attention to the real issue.

I also suggest that instead of bitching that her husband ignores her, she quit dressing like a frumpy Puritan, try some lipstick and a smile occasionally, and do something to expand her mind. Her only conversation is bragging on her kids and gossiping about church folk. I'd ignore her too. The man works very hard and is a sweetheart; cut him a break.

I suggest too that you use the spa gift card your brothers gave you for all the work you did when Dad was dying. Maybe they have a treatment to pull the pole out of your ass.

See? I told you I was good at suggesting! I feel much better now. :-)

Music to Mine Ears

2009-03-16T20:26:00.003-04:00

Wait till you have four and a half minutes in which you want to do something special for yourself, and listen to this. At the risk of being trite, this is deeply meaningful to me, and I think you'll enjoy it too.

In Hot Water

2009-03-11T11:10:00.004-04:00

I have an old friend from high school. Truth to be told, he had a bit of a crush on me back then - no accounting for taste, is there? - and if I'd had a brain stronger than my hormones, I might have entertained the notion. He's a wonderful, caring person who is raising three sons, the eldest with Downs Syndrome. We re-connected a few years ago, and mostly stay in touch, as many of us do, with jokes we email back and forth, and occasional "What's up with you?" emails.

The catch in this friendship is that we are politically opposites. Now, I don't bring politics up much in this blog. They matter to me a fair bit, but I don't like to defend myself and my beliefs or attack anyone else's. Usually. Mostly because I don't care to indulge in a battle of wits with an unarmed opponent, if you get my not-too-subtle drift. I have several friends who are WAY right of center; even my one daughter was indoctrinated that way by her dad. I get along with them because, once I know their politics, I suggest we agree to disagree and just drop it. Life is too short, I'm not out to convert anyone, and they sure as hell won't convert me.

I've also asked not to be forwarded right-wing propaganda pieces. I'm an extremely rational person, I am not moved by propaganda except to get ticked off at the idiots who think everyone out there is dumb enough to swallow it whole. I should say I mean this for ALL propaganda. Distortions hurt everyone. But today, my dear friend sent me this piece of crap...

"Are you fed up with the spending, and planned spending, in Washington?

Do you want to make a statement?

April 15th is tax day in America. So try this one: send 1 tea bag to Washington D.C. from April 1st through April 15th. The idea is to give our elected officials an overwhelming signal, something that they can't ignore. You don't have to say anything at all - just send an envelope with a tea bag in it. Or you can add something like “Remember the Boston Tea Party”.

Please send this to your local representatives and also to:

Nancy Pelosi

Senator Harry Reid

Barack Hussein Obama"

I stripped the attached addresses for space, and because I don't want any of you doing anything so bloody asinine! These people are trying to fix the most devastating economic jam this country has been in in most of our lifetimes, and this is how we're going to repay them? If there was ever a time to drop the partisan bull, I'd have to say this is surely it. People are actively suffering in this country. Even if we don't agree with every plan or piece of legislation to get us out of it, we ought to be hitting our knees every night asking God to grant that it works in spite of our fears. And Raunch Limpballs (thanks, Sara!) should be horsewhipped for hoping otherwise, the drugged-up pig.

I also can't help but notice the cheap campaign tactic resurrected...do you see Speaker Pelosi's middle name? No? How about Sen. Reid's? Uh-uh. Wonder why we see the President's? You don't think they're trying to imply anything, do you?

No, I don't think we should rubber stamp every move; that too would be asinine. But let's try to give them space to make it work, and not find it necessary to tie up their staff in pulling Lipton's and Bigelow's out of envelopes. We're in enough hot water. If we want to make tea, let's do it for comfort, not dissension.

I take mine with Splenda and cream. Thanks for asking.

I Love My Job

2009-03-05T20:39:00.004-05:00

But before I get into that...thank you all for your kind words on the loss of Twilight. I still look for him when I get home, but you don't get to be my age without knowing that the sense of loss eases.

One of the blessings of our new studio is that it has long been established as the place to have senior portraits taken. Last year we moved in right as the first mailing should be hitting. Although the previous owner was very helpful in providing marketing templates, everything was done in Adobe InDesign. I use Photoshop to beat the band, but the two programs are more different than similar. So your favorite Office Goddess had to move a studio, learn (partially) a very complex piece of software, familiarize myself with the marketing materials, search out and adjust images to plug into them and have it all done in time to go to the printer. I was NOT amused. But I know you're not surprised to know that I did it, and we had a very successful senior season.

Now it's time to gear up for the class of 2010. The man who puts out the marketing materials we're using is running behind. See the not amused line again. But he did get out the catalog, which is what requires the most work, and it's what I spent about seven straight hours working on today. It would have been less if I were more familiar with InDesign, but since this is my only use for the product, I don't spend a lot of time in it. I got my bearings again, and then really got rolling.

I had a blast. I went back through the images for over 1oo seniors, picking and chosing the ones that would fit the theme, and provide a good balance of race, sex, and builds. No, I don't want everyone to look perfect. That discourages the majority...but I DO want to make them feel that they will look their best when they come to us. We work very hard to make sure that they do; senior pictures are a very lasting impression. Some of the images in the catalog are positioned in such a way that they need a knock-out picture for maximum impact, and I was having trouble deciding on one of them. My difficulty was that I needed a real close-up, but horizontal. Most of the DH's work is vertical unless it has to be otherwise.

So I found this. This was not an image that had been ordered, so it hadn't been retouched yet. She's pretty, but she's not impossibly beautiful. The image has potential.

I cropped in tightly, and cleaned up her few blemishes. Her skin texture was a bit uneven, and her lovely eyes needed to be brought out. Ordinarily this would have been most of what I would do. But remember, I said the image I used had to have real impact because of its positioning. I decided to go a bit further....

And this is the result. Nothing that makes her look unlike herself...no 'glamour shots' effect where her own mother wouldn't know her. More like she had a really good night's sleep, maybe a facial, and visit to a makeup counter. I'm really pleased with it. The catalog is all set, and tomorrow I'll open it up and look at it with less blurred eyes.

Bet I will still like this, though!

Twilight's Gone

2009-02-23T19:14:00.002-05:00

Sometime last night, Twilight passed away. We have no idea what may have been wrong; he was, after all, a feral cat, and it could have been almost anything.

Twilight had vanished a couple of days ago, not being there to greet us as he always did, and not touching his food. We were worried, but thought he might have decided to hole up in the shed at the end of our property, or maybe had just gone back to hunting full-time. It didn't seem right, though; he always seemed to be either on the side deck, or on or next to the front porch. And he liked his food. It's been so bitterly cold this winter for our area, and that food kept his warmth up. He always purred so loudly when we fed him, and seemed so grateful when we'd dump the ice out of his water bowl and give him fresh.

Then he was back. But acting off, still not eating well, not moving around as much. He'd still get up to herd the dogs, especially Jack, but when the dogs came in, he'd just plop down on the walkway instead of coming back up to his food bowl as usual. A couple of days ago I very foolishly cast caution to the wind and picked Twilight up. I didn't even have anything on my hands to protect them, and fully expected to be scratched to pieces for my trouble. Instead, he let me carry him up to his nesting area, giving him skritches and petting him, with him only squirming a bit to be put down when we got there. Honestly, I was stunned, and didn't know whether it was a breakthrough, or he was worse off than I thought.

But we couldn't see anything wrong. I did notice that he was favoring his left hind leg just a bit, yet he was able to walk on it. He was always a 'talker', but he got very vocal the last couple of days. I fretted that he was in pain somehow, but again, no sign of injury...and if I had hurt him picking him up, he showed no sign of it. For about a day and a half he apparently ate nothing, even when we tried to hand feed him. DH took out a piece of pork roast yesterday afternoon, and Twilight wouldn't touch that, so we put it in his bowl.

Then last night, the DH came back in after taking the dogs for their final potty break, and said a good amount of food was gone, including the pork. We were relieved. Twilight was out with the dogs, but the DH said he was suddenly very wobbly in the back paws. We checked on him later, and he was in that shelter he never used.

This morning, he was still there, and the DH told me he was gone. Now someone please tell me why I am grieving for a cat I never wanted, never saw before November, and never even had in my home? For cripesakes, I'm allergic to the creatures! So why did I cry all over the poor DH's shoulder? Dammit.

I'm a firm believer that people...and animals...come into our lives for a reason, to meet a need we have, or for us to meet one of theirs. I'm not sure what we might have done for him that he couldn't do for himself, but I know it made us happy to feel we had a bit of his trust.

In one of Nature's little ironies, I saw the first snowdrops of the season, such a lovely sign that Spring is around the corner. It usually makes me feel so happy.

PAI Friday

2009-02-20T11:55:00.005-05:00

We're in the studio alone this morning, the DH and I. SuzyG is off galivanting with others from the direct sales company with which she is affiliated, and we're quietly getting things done. Okay, the DH is getting things done. I'm goofing off on Facebook sending a Friend from History to Jake. I felt he deserved the Marquis de Sade, mostly due to my sick sense of humor rather than any proclivities on Jake's part....of which I'm aware. But instead I sent him Rasputin, seeing as how he was just re-elected president of the local university history honors society despite claiming not to want the honor again. I think he cast a spell. I'm sure he's capable of it.

BTW, he sent me Mary Shelley, the woman who dreamed up Frankenstein and his monster. I choose to believe it's because she was an intelligent, creative woman who was ahead of her time. If it's something to do with the subject matter, well, let's just say that Jake is safer with my chosen interpretation.

Anyway, nice and quiet, until we hear someone clomping up the front steps and across the porch. DH goes out to greet him. Have I mentioned the staff as a whole tries to avoid having the Office Goddess deal with the general public? I, of course, am bemused as to their reasoning. Sure I am. So, this man says he has pictures to pick up, under this or this name, and that we've called him a few times.

I should think we have. The pictures have been here, and paid for, for SEVEN MONTHS! Mind you we have orders that have been here, again, with the money already spent, for years. As the DH goes into production to pull the order, I hear the guy comment that he was here at nine, because "he expected we would be open at nine."

Oh, really? Because everytime we leave a voice mail, and he's admitted to getting several, we state that we're open from 10-6, Tues. through Sat. That information is also posted on the parking lot side, and the front of the building, is on the voice mail message at the studio number, and is on our website. Secretive about our hours we are not. We don't do a traditional 9-5 so that people who do can come by after work and ...gasp!...pick up pictures. Actually, a lot of area shops don't open till 10, probably for the same reason.

DH ignores the comment, which is why he's out there and I'm selecting a friend for Jake. I hear him hand the man his photo order, and the guy remarks, "That doesn't seem like much!" Um, dude? You ordered three pictures back in JULY, and you're getting three pictures. They didn't atrophy over time, we didn't deduct pictures for a storage fee (hmmmm! note to self to look into that!), and if you think it doesn't look like much, maybe you should order more photos of your dimpled darling dancer daughter.

I was doing a slow burn. Actually, maybe this is why Jake got Rasputin.

Change of topic....

A small worrisome note...we're not sure where our feral kitty, Twilight, is. Yesterday morning he wasn't acting like himself. He didn't herd Jack, his favorite Scottie, nor did he leave his nest in the alpaca-fur-mulch in the front hedge area, not even for food and fresh water. When we checked on him, he looked at us sleepily but didn't budge. I joked that perhaps he'd been catting around the night before. Witty, no? No? Okay, have it your way.

But last night he didn't greet us by rolling around on the walkway as he usually does, and although food had been eaten, there was no sign of him at all. This on a very cold blustery evening, where he'd normally be scarfing down the kibble for warmth. This morning, still no sign, and the food was untouched.

So the DH, big softie that he is, and I are pretty concerned. If the weather had warmed up considerably, I'd say he was off hunting more interesting things to eat, but it was brutal last night, and the couple nice days we did have, he was still around. Maybe he's moved on, but it seems odd when he has steady food and water.

*sigh* I'll let you know if Twilight shows back up.

Fun with Photos

2009-02-17T15:40:00.006-05:00

In one of our latest marketing campaigns, we've been sending a mailer to Realtors, attorneys and the like, suggesting that they "upgrade your image!" The impetus behind this was driving past some truly appalling photographs on billboards. People trying to tout their services as bankers who look as green as the money they refuse to loan out. Women leering out with lipstick on their teeth in their '80s hairstyles telling us to join their churches....they need to pray for a new haircut.

Two of the biggest marketing boo-boos are not marketing when times are tough, and using such an old image that, when people actually meet you, causes them to wonder aloud when you became the Crypt Keeper. Vanity is all well and good. It keeps a lot of people employed in the cosmetic industries. But you have GOT to keep that in the framework of a) age-appropriateness; b) reality of what God gave you; and c) "damn, girlfr'en'!" (or boyfriend; men are certainly no strangers to vanity!)

We had a really nice lady in here today. Dawn sells insurance, and actually was one of the billboard images at which we shuddered. Not that we told her that. LOL She's a nice-looking lady of a certain age - I love that French phrase, so tactful, so not me - and she has some sun damage from a youth misspent in the sun of Florida. Repeat after me, "Sunscreen is our friend." But she didn't know that then, and she wanted some issues fixed. Well, hell, so would I if my image were going to be twenty feet tall!

Here's the original image.

You can see some issues here, some simple, some, not so much. For one, as you look at the image, her right eyelid droops more than the left. I sympathize; I inherited the same characteristic from my Dad, and it's more pronounced when I'm tired. She wanted that evened out if I could. Ha!...if I could, puh-leeze.

Next, her skin tone is uneven, and on her chest, badly freckled from the sun exposure. She's self-conscious about that. And although she didn't point it out, her hair highlights have grown out some, and it's fairly noticeable on the left of the picture. I decided to give her a touch-up on them.

And of course, she wanted to look a bit younger. DH told her I would be her best friend. :-D Again, remember that this will be BIG, so minor flaws that I might ignore for a 5x7 print have to be addressed for this. One thing I do not do without being asked is to remove beauty marks. Goes back to that reality thing again.

So here's the enhanced image. It's still recognizably Dawn, the lines are still there, but more like she would have had them a few years ago. The skin tone is better, the hair fixed, but natural looking, and the eyes are brought out a bit, as well as being more symmetrical. Let me know what you think; I love feedback on my work.

And in another bit of niceness for the day...my eldest daughter called. She had just gotten a message from the mother of one of her best friends, Lindsi. Lindsi married her long-time S.O. on Saturday, and I was the officiant. Much to my daughter's distress, she couldn't be there, because she has a strained back. I felt badly for her, knowing that she really wanted to attend.

Anyway, Lindsi's mom sent this to my daughter: "I just wanted to tell you: You have a beautiful Mother with such a kind heart, she touched me yesterday and for what she conveyed to me, I will be forever Grateful. Please tell your Mom, Thank You from the bottom of my heart."

Awwwwwwwww. So sweet! So thoughtful! So....she doesn't know me too well, does she?

Liz Won!

2009-02-12T07:55:00.003-05:00

Got this from Liz Lovick this morning:

"Hi all,

Thanks to you my lace and cable gloves have won the Cherry Hill yarn competiton. The winners can be seen here:

http://www.cherryyarn.com/postcards/winners.html

Hopefully when the pattern comes out they will spell my name right....

Liz"

Whoo hoo! I'm so proud of all of you. Of course, I happen to think that Liz would have won with or without our help, but hey, no reason not to do our best to make sure of it. And that we did. What a great start to the day.

Sometimes good guys finish FIRST.

And The Romi Goes To...

2009-02-11T10:51:00.004-05:00

...ME! OMG, I couldn't be more excited. Rosemary of Romi Designs picked my name for her her latest scarf design. Whoo hoo! It's a very pretty free pattern; check her blog for how to obtain it.

I'm a huge of of Romi's work, and own several of her pins. I've also made the Ice Queen, which is her design that headlined on Knitty last winter and was just huge in the lace knitting community. My version is in black with star-shaped beads, and I love it. I have yarn and beads to do others, now to find TIME.

So while I know it's silly, I am thrilled to have someone whose work I so admire like the name I came up with. It's not like I did anything particularly difficult, or clever, or even worthwhile. I don't care. She liked it!

Now to go back to my usual snarky self. A few PT exercises should do it. :-/

Ships & Shoes & Sealing Wax...

2009-02-10T13:51:00.003-05:00

I thought it was a good time to do some updates. First, Twilight, our feral kitty. He comes down the walk to greet us now from any of his hidey-holes, none of which are the shelter we set up for him. He meows and looks meaningfully deep into his bowl when he feels it's getting low. Twilight will purr like a chainsaw when we feed and/or water him, and allows us to pet him when he's eating, although he still isn't big on his head being touched. Of course, I scrub up like crazy afterward, knowing that any cat dander near my nose or eyes is murder, but I pet him anyway.

Next, the surgery is off. The doctor really wanted to do it at his facility, because the hospital isn't nearly as up-to-date, and he cannot see as well with their equipment to do the procedure on the shoulder. BUT, my mega-crappy insurance (there are many joys to being self-employed; this is not one of them) only covers the hospital, and that with such an appallingly high deductible that I was really sweating it. So the doc asked us to come back in, free of charge (as the DH puts it, free is in the budget) to talk.

Meanwhile, I did some research on frozen shoulders. Turns out that first of all, as a diabetic, I am more prone to the condition. Nothing new, if there's anything out there, we'll get it worse or be more susceptible. Just gotta love those genetics. Anyway, they aren't sure WHY that is the case, possibly something autoimmune-related. Second, they almost always clear up on their own. But that can take up to two years. Now, see, this shoulder is the DH's favorite sleeping place, and I haven't been able to raise my arm up for him to do that, so I do not intend to wait two years. Third, according to the American Academy of Osteopathic Surgeons website, manipulation under anesthesia is a last resort after physical therapy. I hadn't had any.

Armed with this info, I went to the meeting with the doctor. Understand, this man and his family are clients, so I knew I had to be careful with how I approached this. I hate confrontations. Not out of fear, but because I know me. If I feel defensive, I attack, and I do it very very well. Not good with a client whose wife is a serious prima donna. *sigh* I decided to see first what he had to say, and have my oh-so-tactful DH take the lead if need be.

First thing that the doc said was that he had no idea of the restrictions of our insurance, explaining the difficulty of the hospital. Since the actual surgical procedure for the calcium deposit can literally wait years, we were only doing it to kill two birds while I had to be under already. So he proposed we just do the manipulation. At this point I said that even that might not be necessary. Doing some exercises I found online, I had already improved the front range of motion of my arm considerably, and the back, which is much more painful, somewhat. I said that perhaps I had not been clear, but that although PT is supposed to be the first line of defense, I hadn't had any.

Now, mind you, I'd been perfectly clear on that. Both on forms, during the intake, and to him. But it allowed him to save face, and me to feel crafty. LOL So he said, oh, I must have missed that, and in that case we should definitely try PT first. I think he was thrilled to have the lady with the crap insurance heading elsewhere, but I do go back to let him see my progress in a couple weeks.

Meanwhile, I started PT yesterday. Yes, it hurts, plenty, but I keep floating $$$$ in front of my eyes to remind me how badly paying the medical bills would hurt! He'll see me once a week while DH and I work the shoulder on our own. Thank God for my darling husband's help. When the pain is truly unbearable, him rubbing it lets me relax my muscles, which I cannot do if I'm the one rubbing it. Good ol' Lamaze training really helps there.

BTW today is the 16th anniversary of the first day I met my DH. The time has gone by terrifyingly quickly. The first thing he did was hug me, and he still gives the best hugs. Only Camo's little bitty arms come close. :-)

Finally, I have my pearl back in my hot little hands. Twinkie's idea of shipping it safely meant to have it in its poly bag, in the little square cardboard box in which I originally sent it, in a lightly padded envelope with about six bits of Styrofoam peanuts. What a twit she is! When I sent it, it was well-wrapped in sheets of bubble wrap. But it arrived safely, it is definitely my pearl, so all's well that ends. Period. I'm so glad to be out from under Flaky Twinkie!

Now that you're caught up (yawning behind a ladylike hand), you may return to your own humdrum existence.

Please Vote

2009-02-06T08:46:00.003-05:00

I got an email this morning from Liz Lovick. If you follow this blog at all, you know who she is.

"Hi all,

I have an ethical dilemma.....

A yarn company were having a 'competition' for designs. The money was worth while and at GREAT expense I got some of the yarn (the dollar chose that time to head up and I got done for tax etc!)..

I sent in two designs. Fine. But they have now changed the selection process to a web vote. If I had known this at the beginning I would never have done anything, because we all know web votes can be abused by lobbying....

My dilemma is that I know others will be getting family and friends to vote for them. I disagree with such stuff, but....!!

So, in true internet fashion, I have selected a few friends to send the link to:
http://www.cherryyarn.com/postcards/vote.html

My designs are 4 and 5.....

Liz"

I voted for #5, and I think if we all vote for the same one, she'll have a better chance. I just think it sucks that the rules were changed mid-stream, and I know that Liz has done a lot to give to the knitting community. I think it would nice if we gave her our support in return...yes, I'm lobbying, but hey, you gotta fight fire with fire, right?

So do me a favor, take a second, and vote for a very nice lady's work.

A Smile

2009-02-03T15:19:00.003-05:00

My grandson, aged all of five, called me today to thank me for a cookie in a tin I'd sent home with his mother from work. Just a little something I picked up at Wally World, mostly because he likes soccer and the tin said, "I Like Soccer."

I'm nothing if not imaginative.

Anyway, he thanked me, and I told him I loved him, to which he courteously replied that he loved me too, although I could tell his attention was more focused on the cookie which he knew he couldn't have until post-lunch.

"You know what?" I asked?

"What?" he replied. Kid's sharp as a tack.

"You know what I tell people about you?"

"What?" (if it ain't broke, figures Camo...)

"I tell people that you make the sun rise every morning."

"Oh." (I can practically hear the visions of chocolate chips in his head.)

"You should tell your mommy I said that."

"Okay."

Now, from my end of the phone, I hear Cameron telling his mother what I said. She asks him, amused, "Grandma says you make the sun rise?" "Yep," says the king of one-word answers. "Well, do you?" his mom asked.

In a tone of suddenly intense exasperation (the cookie IS waiting, after all), Camo bursts out,

"I don't know!!!!"

ROFLMAO.

BTW, as I was finishing this, he called to inform me that the cookie "was DELICIOUS!" Smart kid; he knows flattery will get him everywhere.

I think the DH taught him that.

Pearl Before Swine

2009-02-01T10:24:00.003-05:00

I'm so upset that it's infuriating, which means you, my loyal minions, get to hear about it. This will be long, so get a few Super Bowl snacks early and settle in.

First some deep background. About twelve years ago, after having spent our honeymoon there, the DH and I decided to take my girls and my mom to Disney World for Christmas. We had a great time. The DH and I are especially fond of Epcot, and when we were in the Japan pavilion, we tried a bit of a gamble they had. You pay a small amount, pick an oyster, and you get whatever pearl is inside. You can see it here. I did very well out of the deal, getting a lovely silver-gray pearl that was about 7.25 mm, a nice size. I didn't care for any of the settings they had for it, so I carried it home and waited to know what I wanted to do with it.

A few years ago, I saw a necklace that I knew was similar to what I wanted to do with my pearl. It's three moons, full in the center, waxing and waning crescents to either side. Like this without the dangle bit. I wanted the full moon to be the pearl, and to have it set in silver. I just didn't know anyone to do it.

Forward a bit to last year. I found a seller on Etsy who was selling OOAK (one of a kind, if you aren't familiar) silver set onyx earrings. They were lovely, distinctive, and reasonable, and now they are mine. If I wear black, I wear these. I liked some of her other work too, and got a circle with a couple meaningful phrases for the DH for his birthday, to wear with his cross necklace. I ordered it in plenty of time, which was good, since she was backed up with Mother's Day orders.

So at the end of the summer, I approached....let's call her Twinkie because it will amuse me no end...Twinkie about doing my necklace. She said that she hadn't worked with a pearl before, but her 'mentor' knew how to do it, so she could learn the technique from her. I asked for a sketch, we hashed out some specifics, and after reminding her a couple of times to send me the sketch, I approved her drawing and agreed to her quote. I mailed the pearl to her in September, and Twinkie promised the necklace for the first week in November. It was my birthday gift to me.

I kept waiting to hear that the pearl had arrived safely; I knew the package had, but not that the pearl was okay. Twinkie had promised to tell me. After a week, I emailed to ask, and oh, yes, it was intact. Yay. I settled to wait.

And wait. Excuse after excuse. Her kids are sick...this was multiple times over months; must be the most unhealthy brats out there. When she missed the deadline, she was working on the how to do the setting; I should be patient. Then Christmas orders for wholesalers put me on a back burner; I should be patient. Then it was that this is very fiddly work, she can only do it when the kids are asleep; I should be patient. Then she needed different materials; I should be patient. Understand that at times weeks or a month would go by with no update from her and promised dates going by, but when I would email asking what was happening, I was being impatient and needed to understand the artistic process.

Meanwhile, I could see new pieces going up on her Etsy site, which ticked me off no end. She took my commission, couldn't get it done, but could do other work? So I wrote, again, and asked WTF? I said that I felt she needed to be more disciplined, because I had been more than patient, and she had made a commitment. I pointed out that I work in an artistic field too, so I knew what it entailed. She tried to bug out, offering to send back the pearl. I told her no, I'd waited this long, I liked her work, and I wanted my necklace. She committed to not working on anything else. Great...we're back on track.

Finally, at the beginning of last month, Twinkie tells me she has the cutout work done, and is concerned about the piece tilting forward on the chain. I suggest a solution (really? I have to think this through?) and she sends a picture of the necklace on her son. Looks fine. A little chunkier than I'd envisioned, but I like it. It just needs the pearl to be set. She's working on the the beading and I should have it in a week. Can I go ahead and pay for it? As soon as I see a photo of the finished piece, I reply, I'll be thrilled to pay. I should have that picture by the end of that weekend, says Twinkie.

No picture arrives. I wait a week, and email....from here I'll give you actual emails, because if I didn't read them, I wouldn't believe them myself. On Jan. 16th, I get this from Twinkie:

"Every time I log onto my computer, I forget to email you!!! Finally remembered!!!

I got my new materials on Wednesday, and have been working like crazy! I'm almost done - I anticipate having your piece photographed over the weekend so we can finalize our transaction and I can mail it out on Tuesday (Mon is a holiday, otherwise it would go then!).

Thanks AGAIN for your patience - I'm having a ball working on your piece and I REALLY hope that you like it! :-)"

The Tuesday to which she is referring was Inauguration Day. I heard nothing more, and finally yesterday, I emailed her:

"Okay, so shipping on the 20th apparently didn't happen...where are we?"

Late evening, Twinkie sends:

"I emailed you since I got the new material in...apparently you didn't get it? This new material is something that I've not worked with before, so I'm learning about it as I go along. I had to do 2 test settings with it before I dared to do the "real" one...all of this takes time. I have put in a LOT of hours on your piece...I am doing the best I can. Customized pieces that are TOTALLY different than one's 'normal' body of work take time. Please be patient with me...it really is the best I can do! Some days I just DON'T have the patience to work on tedious things...my kids are around while I'm working, I'm constantly being interrupted, etc. and when you talk about working with a flame, if I don't have the utmost concentration and capacity to work, it could result in a TOTAL meltdown and then I have to start over from square 1 and that would take LONGER!

Again, please have patience with me - I am really enjoying working on your piece - I am doing the best work I can, but it does take time! I will have it done soon! I really will!!"

There was no email. Nothing in my spam folder, and no reason for me not to get it, as I've gotten everything else. Now, keep in mind, this has been going on since September. The work is only different because she hasn't worked with a pearl before, but she's done other settings...I own some! So I respond:

"No, I hadn't received anything after being told it was a couple days away
from shipping.

I have to say, I think I've been very patient, given that I was supposed to
have this three months ago."

Twinkie's reply:

"Yes, you have...but as I explained...working with new materials, doing a custom job with a "stone" that I have not worked with before....you MUST be patient! Metalsmithing is a complicated and delicate craft! I asked you before if you want me to send the pearl back and I still will do that. I just can't keep getting totally stressed out when I get your emails - it's affecting my nerves! I am ALWAYS under the gun and I don't want to start NOT ENJOYING what I do because of the stress.

Again, I will ask you, even with all the time that I've put into your piece, do you want me to send back your pearl? If not, then you will have to be patient with me a bit longer! This project is SO MUCH MORE tedious and labor intensive than I EVER imagined! I CANNOT work like a machine - it is all "finesse work"!!!!!! Please believe me that I'm doing the best I can!"

At this point, I'm pretty pissed. I am REALLY good at reducing people, verbally, to a quivering mass of jelly and nerve endings. I'm a bit ashamed to admit I really, really like doing it. But I don't. Instead I send this:

"Okay, I am feeling scolded here, and honestly have to say, that takes nerve. I get emails telling me a couple days...a couple more, that you're working on nothing else...then I hear NOTHING, and *I* am chastised for not being patient?? I waited two weeks after the last email I received to even ask!

I cannot imagine why you're stressed. At least you know what is going on. I keep being left in the dark, and having to ask. I understand the intricacies of craft; we do it for a living. But I keep my clients informed if something comes up.

No, I do not want it back. I've invested months of waiting, and I don't want to have to start all over again. Just please keep me up-to-date."

This morning I awake to find this:

"This is obviously not working out for either of us. When you ask someone to do something that is totally original and totally different than their body of work, it is NORMAL for that piece to take months! The fact that I thought I could get it done sooner was unrealistic, but obviously you are not flexible enough to work with that.

After consulting with my husband, I have no choice but to send your pearl back because I am literally stressed to the max in dealing with you. If you cannot understand why I am stressed about working with you, then I'm sorry you can't see it. But I WON'T be harrassed like this any longer. You are hurting the way I feel about what I do and I won't sacrifice what I love to deal with you.

I'm sorry this didn't work out, but I will have your pearl in the mail to you as soon as I can."

I'm not sure how this is totally original...she didn't have to design the piece, after all. And I simply cannot believe the tone of this email. Could she BE more martyred? And she'll return my pearl 'as soon as she can????' I'm livid...and I sent this:

"So, in other words, you bit off more than you could chew, and rather than admit that, you're blaming me.

I have been more than patient, and you know it. You have made excuse after excuse, I've said, "Okay, I understand," you give me date after date when it will be ready, and then I'm evil when I wait for weeks and finally ask why I still don't have it, when the last thing I heard from you was that it was about to ship. Geez, the nerve of me. I'm told it's just shy of ready to go, I hear nothing, and wonder what has happened. How callous of me!

Your over-emotionalism is ridiculous. Either you're a pro, or you aren't. I have not harassed you AT ALL, and you know it. I've given you more than five months WITH the pearl, and that was after having to ask time and again to see a design. Face it, you try to use artistic temperament and family issues to cover the fact that you don't have the discipline to do what you have chosen to be your work. If you want to be an artist, wonderful. If you want to be a WORKING artist, you need to meet deadlines. It's not harassment to expect that from someone who presents herself as a pro.

If I do not have my pearl back, intact, by the end of the week, I will be contacting Etsy. I probably should anyway, to let them know my experience with someone who promises to do custom work, because I'd hate to see someone else fall into this trap."

I know this has been a long post. I suppose partly I want to be validated. Partly I want to vent. Partly I wanna rip her head off.

Now I'm back to the start, after wasting months. Anyone wonder why I'm gonna remove her from my Favorite Sellers?

The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly

2009-01-27T14:28:00.004-05:00

The Good: This was old home weekend for me. Through a weird quirk of fate, I got to spend parts of the weekend with three girlfriends of mine from high school. Now, I live about 2 hours or so from the place I grew up, so I don't get this pleasure often. One is Karen, whom I haven't seen in about 17 years. Her eldest son is apparently quite a violinist, and was auditioning at a college a half hour south of us. We arranged to have dinner Friday with the second GF, Gabriele. Gabe lives locally, but we rarely see one another, both busy with family and work. Karen's sons who were along with us were impressed that there were no awkward lags, from reminiscing about It's Academic (a high school quiz program; Karen, a third member and I made the semi-finals) to catching up on all our families.

Saturday we decided on the spur of the moment to get the best burger around at Five Guys, and called our best buds Witt and Gary to come along. They'd eaten, but invited us to drop by afterward. We had a lovely time; we always do.

Sunday evening, Gabe, the DH and I got to see the third GF, Debbie, whom again I haven't seen in about 17 years. She sings with the National Christian Choir, a very talented group who came to perform in a local church. We didn't have much time together, but it was very meaningful to us. Deb and I grew very close our senior year, and the bond remains.

The Bad: I've been having some trouble with my left shoulder for about a year now. I think I initially hurt it lifting something too heavy (probably my purse!) with my arm hyper extended over the front seat to the back. It would feel better, then I would do something to it again. Eventually the pain was a low-grade hum that would occasionally shriek horrifically when I did some odd move, like try to shrug on a jacket. Unfortunately, I tolerate pain too well, so I tend to ignore it. Yes, I know it's dumb. My GP initially thought I'd just strained a muscle, suggested two naproxen sodium twice daily to help. Didn't. So he recommended I see the orthopaedic surgeon he would use himself, and I finally did today.

The Ugly: I have what they've diagnosed as a frozen left shoulder. To fix that, I would have to go under and have it manipulated. But in addition, there is a calcification on the shoulder bone that if left untreated will injure my rotator cuff, already weakened by the fact my shoulder is frozen. So I could put off having that done, but I'd rather have one anesthesia and one incredible amount of pain (insert whimpering here) than do it twice. I will then require, if I understood correctly, about a year's worth of rehab/exercise to try to improve and recover full function. AND if I don't treat the other shoulder with care, I could end up with similar issues there too.

Anyway, surgery will be at some time on the 12th, outpatient. Keep some happy thought for me okay?

And let the first be, "Good drugs!"

Scottie Fair Isle

2009-01-24T16:09:00.006-05:00

The DH just amazed me this time. I asked him to take pictures and he did a wonderful job. No wonder he keeps getting commercial work.

This is the Scottie Fair Isle I mentioned two posts ago. I have to state up front that it was a blast to knit...I couldn't put it down. And then I have to tell you that this is a raw version. I have yet to pick up the provisional cast on and do the liner, then it should be washed and blocked. I couldn't stand to wait that long to show you. :->

The first chart consists of bones framing Scottie profiles separated by hearts. You can tell my tension isn't perfect - I needed to get better about not pulling the floats too tightly. But since this will go over my head, it'll be stretched.

Next the symbol of Scotland, the thistle. Guess where Scotties come from, boys and girls? Liz was so generous, selecting all the colors I love best.

Now we have little wheaties marching toward us. Scotties are black, wheaten, or brindles, which can run a gamut of colors. My mom's brindle, Raffy, looks like tiger stripes when he's clipped. His dad was a reddish wheaten.

More hearts here too, because we love our Scotties! I love the way Liz used the background color to frame their faces. Or, since it was Liz who is Scottish, colour.

Following more bones, we have these Scotties, in the perfect stack position you'll see in dog shows. Note the smaller dogs you can just see above.

This was my only goof other than just not being used to Fair Isle yet. I should have changed from the light green earlier, but I didn't dislike it once I realized, and I hate to frog my knitting! So it's my design variation. Yeah, dat's it.

Bones are our next motif...I love the variations on a theme Liz created. Hope she thinks I did them a bit of justice.

The last charts were small, of course, and have a rows of Scotties coming and going, and one larger Scottie at the top. The white in it is a bit blown out but you can still see him.

I could have finished off with a bobble end, but I'm more a tassle kinda gal (don't go there!) so I did that.

And voila'! A hat any chickie would love. LOL. This was SO MUCH fun! I cannot wait for Liz's workshop to start. Now I'll learn everything I did wrong.

Let's have a hand for my beloved DH...he really outdid himself, didn't he?

Winds of Change

2009-01-20T13:43:00.004-05:00

The true kickoff for the civil rights movement, the bus boycott, occurred while my mother was pregnant with me. Before I turned three, Birmingham AL was known as "Bombingham." I sat in my second grade classroom and watched the funeral of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Sadly, I cannot remember anything more of that great man but his death; I was too young.

Today I watched, and wept, as a man who is three months and two days older than I took the oath of President of the United States. For the first time, someone of my generation, raised in the same era I was, is our leader. This is enough to make anyone, I think, pause and reflect. But of course the larger story is the history that is made today.

Now, naturally, it's history when anyone takes that oath. But often history to us is a far away thing, stuff that happens while we have our attention on the day-to-day of living. Not today. Today over two million people traveled from all over the world just to be in the same city as Barack Obama. Today more people watched worldwide as the inauguration took place than had watch all previously televised inaugurations combined. Today, history is happening in the center of the lives of all of us. It's why I asked my daughter to make sure my five-year-old grandson watched, whether he wanted to or not. Because I know that, someday, he will be thrilled to tell his grandchildren that he saw this moment.

Listening to NPR cover the events on our way in to work, I heard an African-American woman who had traveled a great distance be asked why she felt that she needed to be in Washington D.C. today. She voiced her excitement, and then said something that stuck with me. She said (I paraphrase) that now we can teach our children differently than we had to before. For me, this is the culmination of the changes that began before I was born, and I rejoice.

I heard another man quoted saying that he hoped that, after all this, Obama will be able to live up to the hype. Yes, of course...we all do. But more, I hope we will be able to live up to the challenges his inaugural address has thrown open before all of us.

Can I get an "Amen?"

Look Ma! Two hands!

2009-01-16T14:21:00.004-05:00

Yes, most of us do two hands for knitting, but not everyone can do Fair Isle knitting...or colorwork...or stranded knitting. I know the terms are not all interchangable, but I don't completely know what the difference in them is...yet.

I've mentioned Liz Lovick before with admiration and gratitude, and today's no different. After Liz designed a Fair Isle hat just for me to knit, it occurred to me that it would wonderful to ask her to teach her workshop to the EZasPi knitting group. Liz is no stranger to teaching, and has done a Shetland Lace workshop and a Gansey workshop for us before, as well as designing an Orkney Pi for the group.

Knitting will begin on this on January 30th, but if you're interested, I suggest joining the group now to get a list of items you'll want to start gathering. Trust me that Liz is an excellent teacher, and the opportunity to learn FREE from someone of her caliber is incredible. Something my Scots blood couldn't pass up for sure. :-) I hope you'll join us.

Definitions

2009-01-12T23:24:00.004-05:00

A couple in the Midwest found that the courthouse was all booked up for their wedding. So, they chose to get married in a Taco Bell, spending about $200 all told for the ceremony and reception.

When they were asked why they chose, of all places, a Taco Bell, they said, and I quote, that they "had spent a lot of quality time there."

I'm thinking the newlyweds need the definition of 'quality' explained to them.

I'm just sayin'.

Fiesta Mittens

2009-01-09T15:48:00.005-05:00

"Awesome! You are a sneaky devil, you know that? Here I was reading about them all along and didn't put two and two together...not by a long shot!

I just thought of something... I now have Fiesta Mittens to go with my maraca pen! Shake shake shake! Hot dog it was meant to be!"

What, you may ask, has cause this effusion of exuberance from SuzyG? Since you ask so nicely, I'll tell you. Although her birthday isn't until the end of NEXT month, she got a present from me today. I finished the Fiesta Mittens last night, and being the beneficent goddess that I am, she got them today, while she could get some wear out of them for winter.

I know that SuzyG reads my blog...I hear her at the front desk, snorting at my wit and pondering my wisdom (yes, I hear that too...the wheels in her head need a spot o'oil.). So I've been deliberately vague about for whom I had decided I was making these. About half-way through the second one, I decided I liked this pattern enough to knit it again, so I could give this set away. SuzyG was not only the next birthday on my horizon, but she gave me some lovely gifts for mine. Since she's a knitter too, I knew she'd appreciate the effort that went into them, so I was willing to give 'em up, even if they aren't perfect. They are my first foray into colorwork, or stranded knitting, and as such, I'm pretty pleased. Now I'm moving on to the Fair Isle hat that Liz Lovick designed for me!

There are those who will NEVER get another knitted gift from me. Have I ever mentioned my mother referring to the Hemlock Ring throw I made her as her 'giant doily?' Nope. She gets nothing handmade again unless it's food. THAT she would appreciate. My sister, OTOH, loved her Icarus shawl, or at least acted like it. She remains in my good knitting graces.

One interesting note: the first mitten was knit on dpns, the second using Magic Loop. The second is a tad snugger, not enough to really change gauge, but neater looking. The dpns, while I like knitting with them, were just so darn fiddly. I think I will knit my Fair Isle with Magic Loop too, using dpns when the stitches get very few, if then. And lest I forget, a big thank you to the DH for the mittens picture. I didn't have my digital, so he took them up to the studio and, rather than the quick shot I expected, did that lovely layout. He gets a kiss. :-*

Oh, and for the record, it's true. I am a sneaky devil. Busted.

HoneySugarBabyDarlin'!

2009-01-07T13:13:00.005-05:00

I'm a fairly reserved person. I flatter myself that I'm intelligent enough to talk to anyone who can talk to me, but I'm lousy at drawing people out. Most of all, I am NOT a touchy-feely kinda gal. I remember when I first started college, eons ago. I went from Maryland to Mississippi, to what was then an all-women's school. I was shy, and a bit scared...so shy I didn't ask anyone where to find the campus laundry to pick up the duffel bag I needed to procure for laundry services. I just made other arrangements. That gives you an idea.

So when I went to my first meal at the campus cafeteria, I was stunned. All these young women who were returning after the summer were exclaiming, screeching and hugging all over the place! This was definitely not my style. I grew to deeply love the school, and made a niche for myself during my three semesters there before the first not-so-DH got assigned to England and I had to leave. But I still wasn't a big person for the over-emoting that was very popular there.

Years later, I'm still not. I hug very dear and/or very old friends, and some family. The DH and my offspring. That's about it. I do not call anyone by terms of endearment unless they are in those categories, either, or they are elementary school aged. Nope, no 'hons' out of me, even if I did grow up outside Baltimore (no, I don't say Balmer, either). I won't refer to you as sweetie, or sugar, or any other sticky things. Even if I know you.

So please tell me why it is that people who've never seen me before in their lives call ME all kinds of pet names? Waitresses call me darlin'. Drive-thru attendants call me honey. Store clerks, even in fairly upmarket shops throw in a few 'loves' too. And not once, but over and over, like a nervous tic. One of the most bizarre was a patient when I worked in the behavioral health field, an elderly man who kept calling me 'little girl' and got most offended when I pointed out that, given that I was in my late 30s, I really didn't care for being called that. Well, okay, he was a patient there for a reason.

I do not like it. It sets my back up. I'm definitely not so formal that I expect to be called Mrs. XXX, or even Ma'am , but I don't want to go to the other extreme either. I do not like the implied intimacy, or at times, the condescension of these endearments. I'm not sure if they think the uber-friendliness will get them a bigger tip, or a larger sale, but I'm here to tell you....uh-uh. I do like the custom with which I was raised, where children call their elders Miss (or Ms.) or Mr. First Name. It's respectful, but it's not cloying, and I still do it on rare occasions for someone much older than I. Not that there's that many of those around any more.

And lest you think it's just my regular snarkiness, the DH feels the same way. He is the sweetest, kindest man the good Lord ever planted on this planet (think Mr. Rogers on a glucose drip) and he doesn't want to be dumplin'-ed or snookie-ookumed any more than I. We save our pet names for when they have meaning.

Oh!...and don't call me Shirley! :-)

Bird-Brained

2008-12-29T17:00:00.009-05:00

Saturday, we had a photo shoot to do for a magazine layout. It was at an old farmhouse that is on the National Registry. When we pulled up, my eyes bugged out. Perched on a wall ahead of us was a peacock! But that wasn’t the best of it. As I got out with my little digital, I saw WHITE peacocks!

The lady of the house came up to greet the DH, and I asked if I might wander around outside. She kindly said I might, and I discovered I hadn’t seen the half of it. There were at least nine white peafowl, and perhaps two dozen of the brightly colored ones, plus turkey,

Guinea hens, and some I can’t even identify.

The DH took some shots with the good equipment, then went into the house while I kept shooting with my bitty camera. I asked him to ask the owner, Pat, if I might keep any feathers I found; there weren't many, not being molting season, so I thought I wouldn't be depriving her.

After he went in, I managed to get one shot he didn’t; one peacock in full display. I didn’t know the stiff feathers that hold up the corona effect feathers actually make a rattling noise against them. It was so COOL!

Here you can see what prompted the display; a little, but very vocal, Guinea hen.

To me, one of the most fascinating things was watching them perch...in trees! As Pat said, "Why not?" Why not indeed, but you just don't think of such large birds flying, let alone doing trees. Aren't they glorious?

I wish I could have gotten closer to some of the white peacocks, but the two pictured above were skittish, and the rest were penned. Unfortunately, the wood beam makes it harder to see them. If you look closely, you can see one of the regular peacocks (can there be a "regular" peacock?) perched on the roof outside. I'm pretty sure it was saying "Nanny nanny boo-boo!" to the captive birds.

The DH got some nice shots inside, including an antique spinning wheel, which is not in use. I'd have liked to have seen it, but I was busy being bird-brained. I don't mind. As the owner and he came back out, she handed me what looked like one of those huge rose arm bouquets, but all peacock feathers! She'd had to catch a bird for a new owner, and usually they stop when you get their tails. This one didn't, and left half its tail with her, and the new owner didn't want it. My lucky day!

I scraped bird crud off my Danskos and got back in the car feeling very content. Yes, I wish I'd been using a better camera, but I still got some nice shots, and so did the DH.

But *I* got the display shot! :::smug grin:::

Back to Life

2008-12-19T11:37:00.004-05:00

Much of what I do is actually making my DH's dream come true. No, not THAT dream (although I do :-} ), but since he was a young man, he wanted to be a photographer. He is, and a good one, and I spend my days preparing his work for uploading to the lab, sometimes giving it a bit of a wow factor that is best done post-photography. Like this from a boudoir sitting for a Christmas gift for her hubby. All well and good.

But I have carved a bit of a niche out for myself in our business, and that is restoration work. I truly love doing it, even if some things I get make me smack myself in the forehead and question my sanity. I'm allowed to do that; you are not.

The sidebar work is a good example. SuzyG brought it in for a relative. The original image is about two by two, round, and had to be wedged out of a snowglobe, of all things. There is not a centimeter on it that doesn't have damage, from bad creasing to crazing of the finish. I said I could do it, blow it to about a 5x5 and make it look better if not perfect. They were able to provide another image of the father in the shot, so I could use it for reference and to lift the lower face, which was completely obliterated in the photo.

It's a small representation here, and it certainly wouldn't stand up to a wall portrait sizing, but I'm pleased.

I also got this in recently...a 16x20 of a model for the Hecht company. I think it dates from the late 40s, maybe early 50s. The gentleman that brought it in is from a shop that we photographed for one of the magazines for which we do work. It was the grandmother of a friend of his, and he wanted the same size, as well as a smaller print. This was much easier work, although there was a lot of edge damage, discoloration and tons of flyspecks and dustmarks to remove. See what you think. Wasn't she lovely?

It's wonderful getting to restore someone's memories to the depth and vibrancy they originally showed. Now this lady's image is preserved for generations to come.

Call me Sucker

2008-12-19T10:47:00.005-05:00

This is Twilight. Twilight is a cat. A feral cat. A feral cat that mews piteously. We live in a rural-ish subdivision. The lots are all about 2 acres. There are a lot of feral cats in the area; it goes with the territory of lots of farms. We see them hunting around us all the time. They stay out of our way, we stay out of theirs. All's right with the world.

Except for this guy. Although he looks young, we are pretty sure we've seen him hunting in the back yard for awhile. We've even seen him have a close encounter, nose-to-nose, with some deer, which didn't faze either species in the slightest, but left us grinning.

So why, we have to wonder, is he suddenly appearing next to our front door? He shows up, very vocal, letting us know he wants something...but not our touch. Oh, no. "Hisssst!" says Twilight. Yes, we named him. He's a lovely glossy black with just a soupcon of white hair on his chest that, in my whimsical moments, I refer to as his 'stardust.' See the blog title.

It's been getting bitterly cold some days and nights here, and we were worried. While he's made a nice little nest for himself under the bushes you see here, wrapped in some llama fur that wasn't good enough to spin and is now acting as mulch, the weather has been wet and foul. So one morning, I snuck him a handful of dog kibble. He ate it quickly, as soon as I got out of touching range. Feeling like a sap for encouraging him, I confessed to the DH. Turns out I married another sap...he'd already slipped him some that morning too. Bowing to the inevitable, I added a bowl of water to the mix.

A couple of days of this (much to the dogs' dismay; they don't like depredation of their food), and suddenly I am the proud owner of a bag of Little Friskies. But if I'm gonna feed this critter, I'm going to try to tame him to hand, at least. So one freezing night, I kneel on the concrete porch (I refer you once again to the blog title), and strew a couple pieces of kibble, holding the rest in my hand. Twilight eats the pieces on the porch, although he's obviously not happy that my hand is so close. He paces, scratching himself on the bush and rubbing against a planter. I make vaguely encouraging sounds, and he eventually takes a bit from my fingers, nibbling ever-so-gently on my thumb too. A few days of this, and he readily comes to feed from our hands, but still doesn't want to be touched. HISSST! he reminds us.

Every once in awhile we get a stroke in while he's distracted. The dogs are distracting, we find. None of them threaten him, although his back may go up if they bound up too quickly. Twilight and Jack especially like one another. They even do some rudimentary playing when we can get the other two out of the way. DH found he could touch the cat if he was otherwise occupied. So I decided to get a bit bolder. I cupped both my hands, with food only in one. As Twilight ate from my right, I scratched under his chin with my left. He was too greedy to object. He's incredibly soft and glossy for a cat that has been living in the rough.

Now he paces in front of the door, impatiently waiting for us to come out and meowing. He'll sleep up in a Rubbermaid container we have on the front porch that has some odds and ends in it, with a furniture cover on the top. He likes to sun there. He seems tempted to come in but won't, and that's probably just as well at this point. IF we can get him comfortable enough with us down the road, we'll try to get him to a vet for shots and neutering. But that's a big if.

Oh, and the biggest reason I'm a sucker? Although I had a gorgeous black cat growing up, now I'm highly allergic to cats. Breathing trouble, sneezing, eyes swelling shut...all of it. So why am I caring for this cat instead of calling animal control?

You guessed it. Sucker.

My Name is Diana...

2008-12-09T18:07:00.008-05:00

....and I am helpless against yarn. There. I said it. Do you know why there is no 12-step program for people with knitting (spinning, crochet, cross-stitch, et.al., including chocolate) stashes?

BECAUSE WE DON'T WANT ONE!!!

Which is, of course, not to say we don't need one. *sigh*

Yesterday we went up to Frederick MD to visit a home brewing supply store. I gave the DH a conical fermenter as an early Christmas present, early because I know he wants to do some brewing. Turns out one part they sent is the wrong size, so we have to get THAT fixed (grrrrrrrr) but we got some other stuff he needed. As we left, he asked where I'd like to go next.

Hmmm. No idea, but I pulled out my phone and Googled for a yarn shop. Sure enough, I came up with two and one was just a few blocks away. We headed over to Eleganza Yarns.

This is a yummy little shop. Really nice selection, and God help me, a sale table upstairs. Did okay, just a little innocent fondling with the occasion surreptitious wiping of drool, until I hit the sale. Kristi, one of the owners, is clever enough to have interesting swatches made up in the various yarns...cables and the like...so that it's not just garter stitch to look at. The swatch sold me on the last 7 skeins she had of some Colinette Banyan in a Marble colorway. I don't usually care for knitting with cotton, but this is really soft, and I could not resist the colors. Do I have any idea what I'm gonna do with it? Surely you jest. Suggestions are welcome.

Then I made the classic error of touching some Louisa Harding yarns. NOT on sale. Kashmir Baby in white, three skeins, and Kimono Angora, two skeins, in color #4, this really lovely pink/purple mix. I'm thinking of doing a new version of the Fiesta Mittens in these two, seriously decadent mittens. I think the others I'm making now are destined to be a gift for a nosy friend who would surely read about them here.

All in all, a really nice shop, and Kristi and I hit it off well, especially given that I am so not a social animal. I do get a little giddy around masses of luscious yarn, though. I decided against heading to the other yarn shop the DH dangled in front of me, or even Coldwater Creek, after the dent I put in my checkbook. But I love the yarn, and I'm happy. Plus I feel virtuous passing up some alpaca I covet. Alpaca is seriously my kryptonite.

Isn't one of the 12 steps about forgiving yourself? If so, I'm doing the program already.

Treatin' A Girl Right

2008-12-06T23:53:00.003-05:00

There's a fiber festival held in Berryville, VA annually at the end of October, but this is the first year I've been able to go. It usually ends up conflicting with the birthday dinner for which my Mom and I gather with other family members. Our birthdays are five days apart, so we celebrate together.

So this year, my faithful DH/Sherpa and I went. It's a small but pleasant festival, nice vendors and a lovely locale. I didn't buy much, some pretty alpaca, and a set of #1 ebony sock dpns (double point needles). Oh, and some nice spicy soap! The dpns were quite pricy compared to, say, bamboo, but I got them for the strength of ebony, and put them into use on the Fiesta Mittens.

Imagine my distress when, as I was working on the last few rows of the thumb, one of the needles snapped about an inch in from the tip. I was disappointed, and a bit ticked, too. I've never broken a needle in my life, and now I break what is supposed to be a very strong one.

I looked up the folks from whom I purchased them, Blue Ridge Yarns, and shot off an email. I expected to be referred to the manufacturer, which would have been acceptable to me. Instead, Linda wrote me back, immediately offering to replace the needle for me. A couple emails back and forth (yes, Virginia, it DOES help to say what size needle I need...doh!) and Linda said she'd get the needle in the mail.

It arrived today, well sandwiched between cardboard...and get this! - TWO needles were enclosed. That is customer service, folks. I'm the first to gripe when something goes wrong, but as I've said before, I'm all about the fair, so I wanted to pay my compliments to Blue Ridge Yarns. BTW, they have nice yarns, too.

Anyone in business knows the adage that a satisfied customer will tell one or two others, but a dissatisfied customer will complain to 12 other people. I'm hoping I'll turn that around for a change. If you do shop there, tell 'em why. NAYY, but I like people to see their good karma coming back at them.

Gee, I hope they don't duck.

Semantics

2008-12-05T23:22:00.003-05:00

I've been progressively more troubled by a trend I've seen over the last few years. I see it on TV, hear it from friends, and get incessant emails on it. And that is the "Happy Holidays" versus "Merry Christmas" debate.

I am a Christian, mostly in the sense that the teachings of Christ are, I believe, an excellent way to live your life. I do think other philosophies, faiths, creeds, et al, have merit too. This is just my path, however imperfectly I follow it. I'm not big on religion. While I don't necessarily think that it's "the opiate of the masses," I do think religion is an excellent way to screw up faith. Faith? Now that I have in abundance.

All that to say that I simply don't get the aggressively militant "taking back Christmas" crap. Since when is it insulting to be wished happy holidays? Dammit. They want me to be happy! They SUCK!! So what if they don't want to assume what holiday I celebrate? What if they're saying that particular phrase because they're including New Year's greetings? How rude of them. Or not so much.

But no, now we have to turn fact that someone is giving us good wishes into an insult. I've heard people respond to the cheerful "Happy Holidays" with a snarled "Merry Christmas" that sounds more like an expletive. I get emails that accuse people who use the H.H. greeting of trying to steal Christ's thunder. I've seen sentimental claptrap that pictures Jesus as feeling his birthday (which, btw, it isn't...He was born in the spring) is being forgotten. And they all imply that people saying H.H. are some kind of infidels trying to prevent Christians from celebrating Christmas.

Nonsense. I've a few Jewish friends, and I've never seen one of them get offended if someone, not knowing their religion, wishes them a Merry Christmas. None of them feel we're trying to insult them. They accept the kind thought behind it. I'd suggest there are a heck of a lot more important things out there to get angry about than someone caring enough to wish you happiness.

I should know. I manage to get angry at most of them, hence the blog name. But honestly, if I ask myself the hackneyed "What Would Jesus Do?" when confronted with the H.H. versus M.C. controversy? I just can't see Him sneering, "Wish me a happy birthday!" to someone saying Happy Holidays. Dunno what He'd say to Merry Christmas, because of course, He celebrated Hanukkah.

Instead, I think He'd smile, and wish us all Peace. And so do I.

You Better Not Pout

2008-12-03T13:53:00.010-05:00

But you will, if you're one of the crafty folk who read this blog. You won't be able to help it, but Mrs. Claus will help Santa understand.

Some background. As you can see at the bottom of the page, I own/moderate several Yahoo groups. Most are knitting or spinning, one is a list for Scottie owners or wanabees. We take other terriers too, as long as they know their place. ANYWAY...a Scottish (Orkney Isle) lady who was doing an instructional KAL (KnitALong) on the EZasPi list happened to mention that she was about to pick up a Scottie from a rescue group. I pounced on that and invited her to join AngelScot. Her name is Liz Lovick, and she is a master knitter who owns and operates Northern Lace.

Every year, our Scottie list does two programs. One is a secret pal-type program that we call Terrier Twins. Simple minimum requirements of four cards (ecards are fine) and a birthday gift, it's meant to be a friendship/support kinda dealy job. The other is a Secret Santa. This year, I've had Liz as my Terrier Twin (it's not reciprocal, she has someone else for hers) and she drew me for the Secret Santa.

Now, I'm no dummy. I'd have happily rigged this as my dear, chicken-fearing friend Tracey accused me of doing. But I didn't. It was pure serendipity-doodah. Liz sent my gift early, since we never know what international post will do. This time it did well. The Tyvek envelope got to me unharmed. Speaking of which, that is some of the most indestructible crap I've ever seen. Yes, you can cut it open, but tear it? Schwartzenegger in his heyday couldn't do it, I'm tellin' ya.

Being a polite lady, I asked on AngelScot when I might open the package. Before Liz could answer, Tracey egged me on to open it...guess eggs don't bother her, just chickens. But soon Liz came back to tell me to go ahead and open it, and her Scottie named Scottie (remember he's a rescue, she didn't do that to the puir boyo) said it would explode in ten minutes if I didn't open the package.

Well we couldn't be havin' that, now could we? Not after she went to all that trouble. So I opened the Tyvek and pulled out a longish white box and a tote bag. One note - when you send things out of this country, you must attach a customs form. The effect of this is basically government Scroogality, because you have to reveal the contents. So I knew from seeing it on the form that the package had a spindle in it, and some 'bits of wool'. I was excited; I love spindles, and if they are both beautiful and functional, they are absolutely for me. Not you. ME.

I opened the box, and a spindle like none I own came out. Beautifully square! For those of you who aren't spinsters (don't GO there), most spindles are round. There was a note from Liz saying the spindle was from the UK's premier spindle-maker, Michael Williams. You can see some of his beautiful wood turning work here. Not just the spindle was inside, but some utterly gorgeous wool (Jamieson & Smith Shetland top)and silk hankies for spinning, dyed in colors I love. My jaw dropped. I've been spinning the wool on it the past two evenings, getting a very fine singles that you can see here.

But generous Liz wasn't done. I turned to the tote. Scotties cavort on the outside - it's from the rescue group she supports, and I love it. But inside! -oh my!! There was a pattern for a Fair Isle hat designed by Liz, and bunches of partial balls of Jamieson & Smith 2 ply Jumper Weight to make the hat. Any knitter worth their purls knows that this is primo stuff. The Ganga of Wool. I was thrilled to bits. As Liz said, she felt I wouldn't mind having partial balls to do the project. Uh, kinda not.

After doing my happy dance...no, don't bother checking YouTube...I settled down to look at the pattern and saw this:

She had modified the pattern JUST FOR ME! I was flabbergasted. All these little motifs to replace those in the original pattern, and all Scottie-related. Different head and body studies, and even wee bones...all in my favorite colors again. I couldn't be more touched. Unless George Clooney were within touching distance, in which case all bets are off. Even then, I'd be doing the touching. Pretty sure he'd be running.

Seriously, it is one of the most thoughtful gifts I have received in my life. Right up there with my prayer shawl from Kristina. Think about it. Not only my favorite colors, hobbies, and doggies, but the sheer work of doing those designs. Did I mention? Just. For. ME! As soon as I finish the Fiesta mittens I'm doing, this hops on my needles.

I don't even think you have to be a knitter or spinner to appreciate that kind of effort. It's a better woman than I am that made it, too. Not that that takes much, mind you, but Liz is a pip!

Celliquette

2008-11-21T13:43:00.003-05:00

Last Saturday, we took pictures of a large family group, some of which have been clients for years. Nice folks, the ones we know, but I did have a bit of an issue. There were several small children in the group, and while most of the adults were in another room setting up a viewing appointment, only one adult male and a few older kids were watching the little ones.

Now, we keep a candy dish on the front desk. It usually has sugar-free mints in it, me being diabetic and also not wanting to contribute to any sugar rushes on the part of the kids we photograph. But for the holiday we added a few peppermint Kisses, and the tiny Tootsie Roll Pops. You're ahead of me here, I know. While the older kids were great at making sure little ones didn't play on the stairs, they did nothing to keep them out of the candy dish. They made more regular trips to it than a pig does his favorite wallow. The second youngest decided to make a fell swoop, and when she started cramming her fourth piece in her hand, smiling slyly at me like I was a co-conspirator, I said I thought she had plenty. Wiped that smile clean off her face. LOL At this point the previously full dish was half-empty, and when the littlest one came back (and the adults were back too, but paying no attention) with an unwrapped lollipop in her hand, and having had several pieces already, I said honey, I think you've had enough.

Big mistake. In trying to prevent a kid from ODing on candy, I provoked a meltdown. To the accusatory stare of her mother, I watched the kid collapse in tears and bury her face in mom's legs. I explained I was trying to be helpful, all the while biting back the desire to say if you watched your spawn, I wouldn't have to be the police. DH told me the kid had several meltdowns during the sitting too, so I think it's just her modus operandi.

I told you that to tell you this. :-)

Today, the same family has TWO viewing appointments to accomodate the large number wanting to see the pictures, and their various schedules. Unusual, but okay. Several folks show up at the appointed time and go in to view the pictures.

Where I sit at my desk, I can hear anyone coming up the front steps and onto the porch. I do hear someone come up, but then nothing. Odd, thinks I, and get back to the strenuous game of Spider Solitaire I'm playing whilst I await the order upon which I will next work. Quite a few minutes later, I hear the door open. SuzyG, receptionist extraordinaire, is at lunch, so I go out of the office to wait upon whomever.

And find a man yakking on his cell phone. I ask if I may help him, and he tells me he's one of the people who should be in the appointment...twenty minutes after it started! He then continues yapping on the phone. I tell him they are in this room, displaying the door with my best Vanna White hand gestures. He walks past it, down the hall. I correct him, cracking the door open and saying to those inside that another family member is here. He waves at me irritably, giving me the universal "Don't interrupt me" motion with his palm out facing me.

Oh, REALLY? Are you here in OUR business to do YOURS? One older gent peeks out at him, and he apparently then goes in the sales room. I say apparently because I left the hall rather than continue on to get the large knife in the kitchen to surgically remove the phone from his ear. Then I hear him come out, jabber a bit, and go outside again. Fine. Be outside and talk. Only it's cold, and he doesn't stay there, going in and out four times. Guess he thinks heat is free. Finally he starts wandering around reception (the office I'm in is right off that room) talking intensely into his phone. "What I want to know, Scott...what I want to know...why is she suddenly upset today? Why today?" Gee, I don't know...maybe you're rude beyond belief with her too? Then he has the nerve, gall and presumption to walk into the office, in spite of a partially closed door clearly saying 'PRIVATE.' I hate few things more than being made to feel like a zoo animal on display, and a give him my best "I beg your pardon?!?" look. I learned it from Dixie Carter on Designing Women.

He did at last finish up and take care of our business with him, after everyone else was done. Folks, I love cell phones. I'm a huge gadget geek, and I'm a firm believer in convenience, especially mine. But I'm sick unto death of people who think we all want to be part of their private little world. I do not want to see you driving with a phone up to your ear...it's my life you're endangering. I do not want to listen to your argument while I'm trying to enjoy a romantic dinner. I do not want to be interrupted in what we are doing because someone calls or texts you. And while I'm at it, I don't want to listen to your loud, occasionally obscene, ringtones either. As my mother used to say, if you can't play nicely with it, don't play at all.

And you're right, I don't feel so badly about making the little girl cry anymore, either.

Camo Gear

2008-11-15T10:29:00.007-05:00

Yesterday was an exhausting day. Looking at the upcoming schedule, and knowing my receptionist had a bit of a lull, we decided to go ahead and decorate the inside of the studio for the holidays. The outside will wait till after Turkey Day, but in this economic climate, we need to remind customers that they can holiday shop with us. Our studio tree is all Scottie ornaments other than the angel (I don't like any of the Scottie ones out there), a few crystal snowflakes and garland, and one token Sheltie. Last year we moved from a four foot tree to a seven foot one, and it looks great. My digital cannot do the lights justice, but this gives you an idea. Note the Santa sitting in the corner, and the dogs going up the stairs.

BTW, and nothing to do with yesterday, I finally finished my socks. I could have made the cuffs higher, but I don't usually wear my socks very high, so I stopped. One of the numerous benefits of knitting socks toe-up. I just love the colors.

Back to yesterday. My grandson Cameron is about to turn 5, and his mom, aka my daughter, wanted to do some studio pictures with him in preference to buying the dreck the school photographer put out. That's her characterization; I didn't see them. Okay, she said something other than dreck, but I'm feeling polite today.

So in came Camo. A lean mean manipulative machine. That kid had the undiluted attention of four adults, and acted up accordingly. Oh, nothing really bad, just what you'd expect. My favorite was him darting, shirtless, out of the dressing room, but modestly holding his hands over his wee nipples - then running downstairs to do his semi-streak for the receptionist! Little stinker.

On the other hand, the camera utterly loves this child. Even when he'd do mock-frown, it was cute on a serious scale. I had two goals. He got his sweater that I made him early so I could get pics of him in it. I'm glad I added the little front pocket, and the hood looks cute on too. He has lovely blue eyes, and this really brings them out. I adore the feet in this shot too.

My second goal was for the next shot. And in spite of the fact that I had "glowed" off most my makeup in the decorating frenzy, I wanted a picture with him. Yes, this is the real me. No retouching other than the edge softening that you can see for photo effect. See what you think.

I'm going to send that one off for a couple prints, which is why it has our logo on it already. BTW, when having your portrait made with a grandchild, always have their arm wrapped around your neck. Hides a lot of stuff better hidden. ;-)

Run Ragged

2008-11-02T11:38:00.009-05:00

I have a half-sister, Laura. She's younger than my daughters...in fact, she's younger than 3 of our father's grandchildren. Therefore, she's never felt like a sister to me since we didn't grow up together, but more like another niece. This past Thursday she got married, and the DH (and to a small extent, I) was the photographer. We had to travel four and a half hours to get to the place of the service and reception, a 4H camp at the other end of the state. Unfortunately, we couldn't go out there the night before because I had class. So after a long-ish drive, we got to the camp a bit early so DH could change into his suit. The nice folks at the dining hall where the reception was to be held let us in, and we got ready. We expected the bride no later than three.

The service was to be held in an open air amphitheater that was truly lovely. I took this shot shortly after we got there. The day was gorgeous, if a trifle nippy out. The sun was shining, the sky was a crystal-clear blue, and we sat and watched chipmunks run, and dozens of goldfinches play in that big evergreen you see. And we waited. Laura is chronically late. We were called and told there were wardrobe and hair issues, and basically the bride wouldn't be there until right before the service. This presented an issue for us only because we were losing light fast, and the temperature was dropping accordingly. We did get shots of the groom, Eric, and his groomsmen. He wasn't fazed by Laura's being late at all.

As we were waiting, a woman brought her camera up and asked one of the groomsmen to take her picture with Eric. I thought it was maybe an aunt, because she was wearing a skirt with a basic cardigan, and her hair pulled back in a gray, flat ponytail. I went ahead and snapped the shot too, and good thing. Turns out to have been his mother! He made some comment about Laura being late, and I laughed and said, "You didn't expect Laura to be on time, did you?" Mother answered very tersely, "Yes!" Rut-roh. So I waited a beat and replied, "Hope springs eternal." Eric busted up laughing, and so an uncomfortable moment passed.

The wedding began, and the girls looked lovely. Laura had chosen fall shades for her bridesmaids, and the gowns looked Victorian, all ruched up in the back in scallops. Just gorgeous. My nephew and little niece were ringbearer and one of the flower girls. The service was a nice traditional one, but everyone was getting very cold. After the receiving line the guests made gratefully for the dining hall as the wedding party had more photos done in the waning light. I just love the artistry of this one.

The reception was rather surprising in its simplicity. Knowing Laura and her mom I expected things to be a bit more on the lavish side, but it suited the venue. Dinner was served family-style. The DJ, IMHO, sucked. He not only started and finished with a commercial for himself, but then, as everyone is eating, suddenly blurts out that it's time for the toast, and thrusts the microphone in the best man's hand while the poor guy is still chewing! After the cake cutting, he announces that the staff is cutting the cake. I burst out in loud laughter (couldn't help it!) and corrected him...the two women doing the cutting were my other two sisters, both clearly not wearing the polo shirts and pants that the 4H staff were. The idiot hardly played any slow songs all evening, which I hate to see at a wedding. Yeah, you want to party, but you also want to dance close with the one you love.

I did get to do something I haven't done since my early teens...dance with my father. Unlike most men of MY generation, the man can dance. And I was so ridiculously proud of myself that I didn't miss a step with him. The rest of the night all my siblings and I did a lot of dancing together. I even got one or two in with the DH once he was off-duty. I was so sore the next day! And not just from the dancing.

No alcohol was served. Which makes what happened to me so ridiculous - I fell on the dance floor! My shoes were a bit big on me, and I blamed it on that, but the truth is, I tried to go a little too low and overbalanced. I landed most ungracefully, and on the arm that's been giving me fits anyway. Of course, I had to get up and keep dancing or have everyone worry about me, and put a damper on the fun. What a trooper I am, I say, modestly.

Afterward, we headed to our hotel to make sure we got the images off-loaded safely. Nice room in the Hampton Inn, but I wish I'd known they had a pool. That's such a restful way to wind down. Up the next morning, breakfast, and on the road. My darling DH had encouraged me to look for yarn shops, and we stopped at one in Fairmont. The stupid place was closed, so that, and I quote the sign, "I can spend Halloween with my family. If it's a yarn emergency, or you made a special trip, please call and I'll be right there." Good grief. You know the kids, if any, were in school, so what's that about? And no, I was not arrogant enough to call. Okay, I am but I didn't. Next thing she'll take off for Arbor Day.

So on to another shop in Morgantown, small selection and garrulous shop attendant. I bought just enough to be polite and make a shrug for Jess, as she is NOT getting the alpaca one I finished for myself on the drive home. I got some very nice soft acrylic/polyamid that is more in keeping with her laundering preferences. She likes it, so all's well. I found another yarn shop that got rave reviews, but had no time to stop. We were all meeting up for lunch with my mother, so the sister from GA could see her for her birthday. So at 1pm ,mom, DH, me, both sisters, one BIL, two nieces, and the one niece's fiance' all had lunch.

On to the studio to grab our football announcing bag, mad dash home to let out the dogs (Jess had stayed with them for us), then on to announce the senior-night football game. We were playing a team that was 9-0. We were 2-6. And damned if we didn't beat 'em! It was a very tight game, back and forth, our guys playing like they hadn't all season. We were tied in the last minutes, and sure we were headed for overtime, when one of our players who'd been just stunning all night intercepted a pass and ran 65 yards to score. I was hoarse from cheering, and the whole team swarmed the field. Just incredible.

Yesterday was Mom's birthday, and we did some shopping while the DH shot yet another wedding. Joyce has my name for Christmas and bought me a cardigan I tried on that looks mahvelous on me. Wench is making me wait for it though. :-/ Then we had our joint birthday dinner at our place. My eldest and her family, Mom, my next youngest sister and I all pigged out on steak, shrimp and the fixin's, including a Key Lime cake. Since my birthday is Thursday (I know your present is on the way), I received a gorgeous purple pashmina from mom, and some very sweet opal earrings from Joyce. This morning they were off for PA, only returning once for Mom's book and coat. LOL

Today is vegging. I'm wiped out! Now, where's the rest of that cake?

Camo's Hoodie

2008-10-19T19:30:00.004-04:00

C'est fini. I finished sewing it up today, and decided to go ahead and throw in the optional kangeroo pocket. He's cute, he loves me, and he makes the sun rise, so I think he's worth it.

As I mentioned before, the multi-colored yarn is my own handspun. It's some of the first stuff I did, and while it's thick/thin in areas, and overspun in others, I'm really delighted with how it knit up. The solid blue is actually more of a royal. To tie everything together, I did the two stripes of handspun on all the areas I needed to do in solid. Since I'm vertically challenged, I had to stand on a ladder to get the whole sweater in, and even then I missed the end of one sleeve. Oh well.

Camo's birthday is next month, and I think I'll find a little matching shirt for him to wear under this to keep him nice and warm this winter. I think it'll fit him next year, too. Just gotta remember to sew one of my "Made With Love" labels inside it, but not at the collar. I'll use the side seam, where it won't scratch him.

Next I finish my socks, then start the Fiesta Mittens. I SO need more knitting time!

It IS West By God Virginia, After All

2008-10-18T10:28:00.004-04:00

Having had a week to recover, I just had to share my experience officiating a wedding last Saturday. The only person I'd met from this event prior to the date was the bride. She hired me on our first day in the new studio and was a very pleasant person with whom to deal. (man, proper grammar can be tortuous!) We met again a week before the service. She mentioned that she'd rather start about 15 minutes after the official start time, because she knew her guests, and there would be stragglers. Okay, said I.

On the day, all gussied up in an official but dressy-looking pantsuit, I arrive at the local hotel where the wedding is being held. Not one of our more up-market locations, I knew what to expect having done a wedding there before. I walk in, see a young man in fairly nice dress sitting near the ballroom, and ask him if he knows where the bride is. Sure, says he, and proceeds to take me to her.

To get to the room, you have to key in a code on the hall doorway. He keyed it over and over, and it didn't work. Finally one of the bridesmaids opens the door, telling him he transposed a number. He walks me to the bride's door, knocks, tells them the minister is here and walks away so as not to see the bride. I wait. And wait. Finally I knock again, explain that I am actually standing here, not just in the building, and would like a word with the bride. After ascertaining that I'm alone, they let me in.

I like to see the bride before the service for a couple reasons, especially when, as with this couple, there was no rehearsal. As an aside, unless your wedding is tiny and NO children under 12 are involved, have a rehearsal. Anyway, I like to let the bride see that I'm present and show an oasis of calm demeanor in the chaos that is typically surrounding her. I check for any last minute changes, remind her that no matter how people are pushing her, nothing starts without her, and re-establish how word will get to me that she is indeed ready to start. I get the license, which must be in my hands before the service can be done. All that done, I clear out of the way.

I headed to the ballroom to check out the arrangements in there. I walked in the door to be assailed by the strong smell of bacon, of all things. People are milling around in everything from formal wear to Nascar gear. The arch is nicely decorated, the cake is set up with a twirling cake topper, and the head table is pretty. Everyone else will be seated at tables to watch the service.

Looking around, I see one man the right age to be the groom that's in the right clothing. He's drinking a beer, from a can, in, heaven help us, a cooler-style cozy. It's very apparent that it's not his first. Not that he's incapacitated by any means (I wouldn't do a service if he were; it wouldn't be legally binding), but he's a bit lit. Clinging to his leg is the couple's small son, about age 2, the ringbearer. Said son is very fussy, although dad says he's had a long nap that day. I consolingly reply that it's a lot of strange goings-on for a little one, as I watch with a faintly horrified eye has Junior picks his nose and proceeds to have his own little feast for one. Dad scolds him, and tries to farm him out to a willing helper, but Junior is at that unlovely stage where kids discover the joy of screaming. We let him cling to Daddy.

Someone mentions how good the food smells. Yes, it's all being set up already, like a picnic brought inside. I make my bacon smell observation and am informed that that's because there's a roasted pig back there. I take their word for it. I also listen to remarks that the Mother of the Bride (MoB) is ticked off because the FoB (you work it out) has been drinking already. I get the sense that he shouldn't be drinking at all. But the groom says, "What's he supposed to do when everyone else is having beer?" I refrain from expressing my opinion. I'm feeling almost saintly in my restraint.

The saintliness continues through two more encounters. First, I'm told by the groom and some guests that there's another wedding going on in a different room...and the color scheme for everyone but the bride is camouflage. One guest says with an odd sense of pride, "I told everyone that they're the West Virginia wedding, and we're the Redneck wedding!" Oooookay. Then I'm flagged down by a faintly familiar looking woman. She reminds me that we've done photography for her family before...when we shot her daughter's FIRST wedding a couple of years ago. I wince a bit.

I busy myself filling out the license, and watch the flower girls racing around the room, almost toppling the arch. I help the 'videographers' set up camera angles. And as it gets to be time, one of the bridesmaids tells the groom and I to come out to the lobby, the bride is almost ready and we'll formally walk in. We get out there, and I send the bridesmaid in to ask if the bride is ready to start. She doesn't come back. As the groom wanders off, I send one of the older boys in the wedding party...he doesn't return. While I'm standing alone, I hear a loud noise outside the big entry windows. I turn my head, and am flabbergasted to see an ATV being driven past, beer cans and old boots tied on back. A man whom I assume to be the groom in full camo is driving, as the bride, all in a formal gown, clings to his back and grins like a loon. It's official. I've seen it all.

Finally the groom saunters back, and I send in the bride's dad, who backs out quickly, because she's about to walk out with her groom there! I put a halt to that, and get ready to walk in with the groom. The FoB, definitely a bit worse for that forbidden beer, makes to come with us. I remind him that his daughter might actually like his escort. As we go back in, I ask one of the women who've been arranging things to have everyone be seated, corral a groom who wants to socialize some more, and get things started. The mother of the groom is seated and loudly scolds her husband, the best man, for not having his collar buttoned and his tie at half mast. He answers equally loudly that he can't button it, and the groom backs him up. Then the bridesmaids come in an outside door...and the DJ has vanished. No music is playing, and these girls come down the aisle like they're getting ready to clear a ditch on all four hooves. I sigh, unnoticed.

The little ringbearer comes down, races to Daddy howling, and refuses to let go. I tell the groom to leave him, knowing it will be worse if we try to move him. Then the two flower girls, sisters and adorable. They have lovely silk fall leaves in their basket, and the younger, in front, is clueless. Everyone tries to coach her. Ringbearer sees the older girl dropping her leaves, thinks it's intriguing, and goes to help. Littlest girl drops one or two, and raises her hand to her hair in befuddlement, leaving one leaf as big as half her head stuck in her hair. I laugh, but so does everyone. As she looks around to figure out why we're all laughing, she sees Big Sis dropping leaves, and promptly starts to pick them back up and put them in her basket.

We finally get them down the aisle, and in comes the bride, looking lovely. Her Dad looks wasted. I start the service, and Junior begins wailing. I speak over him, pausing when his parents try to comfort him. This, folks, is the best argument for marriage before children. He continues to scream, and when one line in the service refers to future trials, I make an audible aside and say, "Or even present ones!" This has the effect of cracking everyone up, showing them I'm not upset, and calming the bride and groom. Someone sweeps the little guy away long enough for us to get through the ring portion, and he's back, holding on like a leech, as they share their first kiss as husband and wife. *shew*

I grab my stuff, give the bride her portion of the license and tell her I mail the court copy for her. I give her a hug, and she is profuse in her thanks, and then I dart out the side door to the parking lot. Thinking I've made my escape, I see one of the bridesmaids coming out the front, sobbing her heart out. She's in her late teens, and I'm at a loss as to what's wrong. Figuring that I'd better act my ministerial role, I ask if she needs some help. But the mother of the groom comes out and goes to her, and I'm off the hook. I duck into my car and bolt.

A few days later, I got an email from the bride. I quote (sic):

"I just wanted to thank you for performing our ceremony. We enjoyed everything. And despite the chaos surrounding the beginning, we still thought it went well. Thank you for waiting and being so patient while we straitened everything out. We had a wonderful day. We resolved a payment issue with our dj after a conversation about the ceremony music that didn't get played. He also didn't play anything for the bouquet and garter toss or the cake cutting. It was still nice. Oh, and our cake table caught on fire! But believe it or not, we took everything with a laugh and had such a good time. Thanks again for everything."

That was, if you'll pardon the pun, the icing on the cake.

More Follow-ups & Birthday Knitting

2008-10-17T12:12:00.004-04:00

We told the AD we'd settle for a written apology from the dorkbean coach. DH mentioned the pizza joke, and the AD countered with an invitation to a tailgate party...funny, because it's open to EVERYONE. So we'll see.

AND I finally got a response from the Holiday Inn on the bedbug incident, after writing to corporate again about receiving no answer from that hotel manager. They said they investigated the room and found no insects. Well, duh. Three weeks later one would hope that bedspread had been washed! That's the only thing that I laid upon that the DH didn't. Anyway, as a gesture of goodwill, they credited us back about 25% off the room fee. I can live with that. And you can bet I'll never lay down on a hotel bedspread again. When I told my MIL about this, she said the first thing the DH's dad did on entering a hotel room was to remove the bedspread and blankets. Wish I'd known that earlier, but what a dreadful commentary when rooms cost so darn much!

Oh, I found that pattern for the mittens I liked in the one shop (which they didn't have yarn for but left on display). They are called Fiesta Mittens by Lucy Neatby. Her kit pricing was kinda steep for a) something I'd never attempted before and b) a pair of mittens. So I bought the kit from Blackberry Ridge with their fingering weight. I think it's next on my list for a quick knit.

On the knitting front, I'm working feverishly and pretty well exclusively on a birthday gift for my adorable grandson Camo. I'm using my own handspun and Paton's Merino. I knew there wouldn't be enough handspun for the hoodie his mom selected, so I'm using the Paton's for the sleeves and hood, with two stripes of the handspun on those areas to tie it all together. I have a few more rows on the hood, finishing sewing, and ribbing around the hood edge to be done. I'm pleased it's going so well, since I have a month yet till his fifth birthday.

I did sweat a little, though, when I had to RIP OUT THE ENTIRE FRONT!!! Oh, the pain, and all of it my own fault. The pattern, a freebie from Lion Brand, has both kids and adults sizing. Being oh, so clever, I went through and marked the numbers pertaining to Camo's size. Folks, that only works if you mark the right number! On the cast on for the front (knit after the back), I unknowingly marked the adult large. And knit, and knit, all through the drive to OBX and back, wondering why it was taking so much longer to knit than the back had. Finally, just as I'm about to do the neckline shaping, I think to hold it up to the back. The curling of the stockinette had prevented me from realizing that the front was a third again bigger than the back! So I frogged the whole thing, and started over.

All's well now, though, and as soon as it's done, washed and blocked, I'll post you a picture.

Following Up

2008-10-15T15:49:00.003-04:00

Quick update on the coach thingy...The AD called yesterday (Mon. was a holiday) and was adamant that he wants us to stay. We play no music we don’t want to play. He claims the disc we were given MAY have been a different one than the head coach listened to, which I’m fairly sure is a face-saving piece of BS. Supposedly the one we were given was a different color. The AD also says he was shown a CD that the person presenting it said would be okay to play except for three tracks, and oddly, they're the three we found objectionable. How coincidental!

Then he left it to us what we want done about the coach. Both of us have backed away from making the little twerp come grovel to us...it could only be awkward. I think we’re going to go with him admitting he was over the line, and leave it there. I suggested slices of pizza from the concession stand might help, but the DH laughed at me. LOL

In the meantime, we heard through the booster-mom-grapevine that that same little twerp coach is the subject of DAILY phone calls to the AD or head coach by one mom. She apparently objects to him using foul language at the players. Go figure.

Now on to two amazing bits of entitled behavior. First, yesterday we have the mother of a senior arrive with no warning to pick up her daughter's pictures. That's okay; we don't require an appointment for that. But what made this particularly fun was that the mother went on to say that Daddy Dear had dropped the final payment check in the mail that very day, but since she was in the area so rarely and happened to be today, could she go ahead and pick up the pictures? ROFLMAO! Um...that would be a 'no.' She tried to debate that with the receptionist. "I don't know when I'll be back this way." Don't much care. I'm fairly sure your daughter will make sure you're back here pretty darn soon! As the DH aptly put it, why don't we go to the gas station, telling 'em we'll be sure to come back tomorrow and pay them for letting us fill up today? Unreal what people think they should be able to pull. To be fair, and I'm all about the fair, the check DID arrive today. So she can pick the pictures up anytime. Now. Although my deeply suspicious side makes me think I should call her bank and make sure it's good after this stunt.

The second bit was from an online order for some wedding pictures. The woman ordered one 8x10, one 5x7, and a few 4x6s. By no means a large order, especially for a wedding. We get to the end of the order, where there's a customer comments section, and she has written, "Can I get a discount because I'm the mother of the groom?" Are you nuts, lady? Who else but family is going to order? And a puny little order like that from your SON'S wedding? We offered advance sale packages that offer a discount, and she didn't avail herself of any of those, so that ship sailed.

I never cease to be amazed at the people who think they should be allowed to take money out of my pocket for the flimsiest of excuses. Like I care that she spawned the groom. He looks like a turtle anyway. Come to think of it, maybe that's why she didn't order any large pictures. Hmmm.

No Good Deed

2008-10-11T11:28:00.007-04:00

I'm sure most of you are finishing the phrase, "goes unpunished." Exactly. Let me tell you about our Friday night.

For many years, the DH was the announcer for the local high school softball teams. Our girls played, we were in the boosters, the whole schmear. The DH has a wonderful voice and being him, did it up right. He got a sports sounds program that is used professionally, at his own cost, and went to town. He became very popular, and I was proud.

So popular that the varsity football boosters came courting. Would DH do the home game announcing? Including pre-game show music, and all that jazz? Would he? You betcha. He asked me to be his spotter, and once I found out it didn't mean cleaning stains out of carpets, I said sure. What it does mean, for those of you as ignorant as I was, is the person who helps the announcer know who is in the middle of the play, running, tackling and the like. I get to use binoculars and feel important. :-)

Now, we've been doing these games for four years, and to be immodest, we rock. Okay, the DH rocks, but I sit beside him. He has pet phrases that are hugely popular, the crowd roars for them, and he really keeps them upbeat in spite of only one win this season. The music he plays is a good mix of classic rock and contemporary stuff, his sound effects are fun...in short, he does a great job, and all as a volunteer. We close the studio two hours early on game nights, and forfeit a fair chunk of potential income as a result, but it's our way of giving back.

One thing that has been a two-prong policy as long as we've been doing this for any sport. We are there for the fans, not the athletes whom we assume should be concentrating on the game, and we do not play music the kids bring us. The AD (Athletic Director) has always backed us on this, because we simply don't know what obscenity-laden piece of crap might be on that home-made CD. We don't chance it. So we've always told the kids, sorry, not without the AD's approval, and subject to our hearing it first. It's our reputation on the line; parents aren't going to be mad at the AD, or the music provider, but at us for playing it.

Last week we went through it again. Kids bring CD, we explain policy, kids leave. All's right with the world. Then last night, what looked to me to be the same kids and CD come up to the booth, and tell us that the CD has been approved by the head coach. We inform them it has to be approved by the AD, and then we'll listen to it.

A few minutes later, an older looking but still very young man comes up, and tells us that the coach cleared it with the AD, and we are to play the music. He has a serious attitude on from the first word. DH explains we need to hear that from the AD, that we'll begin ripping the music in so our program CAN play it, but we won't until we hear from him. Young man gets more testy. "The coach said to play it!" DH informed him we don't answer to the coach, and in a perfect snit (I know snits well, this one was lulu), YM says, "I'll tell him you said so!" We laughed and said go ahead, so he leaves, stompin' his widdle feet as he goes.

We got a literal thumbs-up from the AD on the field and started ripping in the CD accordingly. We still had no intentions of playing it without review for a couple of reasons. First, the football coach is a belligerent hothead and we had serious doubts that he'd listened to the CD. Second, as I stated before, it's our tails on the line, not his. BTW, and to give you an idea of the man's personality...colleges that want to recruit players send letters for the players to their coaches. It's protocol, then the coach passes them on. This one is so twisted that he KEEPS them and says nothing. One of the star players and a client of ours actually got wind of it, and snuck in and took them out of the coach's office. Which we heard about from his furious mother!

DH begins listening to the first few tracks as the rest rip in. Track one we already play, so duh. Track two is dull, but okay. The third is completely unacceptable. Called "I'm Not Afraid of You and I Will Beat Your Ass" , it repeats that phrase over and over. Can you imagine that going out over a stadium sound system? With little kids there? As I said to the DH, if a kid said that in the hallway of the school, they'd be in trouble, and we're supposed to play it on the field? Nope.

As we make this judgment, YM returns, more pissy than ever. "Play the music, you got the okay!" DH explains that we're not done ripping it in, that we have the first three tracks done, and he's interrupted..."Then play them!" First, DH says, we don't play music as the band is coming into the stadium as they are now. Never. It's a courtesy, because, duh, the BAND is playing music. Then he adds that we won't play track 3, and why. YM gets ballistic. "Yes you will! You were told to!" Excuse me? DH reminds him that we are volunteers, we have a responsibility to not play objectionable material. "You're just volunteers, and you were told to by two officials!" he blusters. We reiterate we will play other tracks, but not that one, and as YM gets more aggressive, posturing WAY too closely into my personal space, DH tells him he wants him to leave. "I don't have to leave! I'm a COACH!!!"

WTF??? This is the first time he's identified himself as anything to us, and I swear to you, I would never have thought him to be a coach. We've never seen him before, and I'm still amazed he has the nerve to talk in this manner to people volunteering their time, let alone people old enough to be his parents, pretty sure. And honest to Pete, wouldn't you think coaches of a team that after last night is 1-5 would have better things to worry about before a game?

He finally did leave, realizing that with the band just below the press box there was no way we were going to start any music. He stomped back to the head coach and we saw him mouth something up at us. Luckily for him we have no idea what it was. Later we saw them all in confab with the AD, but we heard nothing more. And btw, after the band was quiet, we did play one of the tunes, but hey, the team wasn't on the field to hear it by then. Which is exactly why we play music FOR THE FANS, not them.

Today, my extremely easy-going husband wrote a strong letter to the AD, outlining what had happened. And you better believe he copied the booster's president on it. Did I mention that she's the quarterback's mom, and utterly loves both our work (we did his senior pics, including an awesome special effect shot) and what we do in the press box? He pointed out that we followed policy of years' standing, what we give up to be there, and that volunteers shouldn't have to put up with that kind of harrassment. He continued, stating that we felt abused, disrespected and that he expected a personal apology from that wet-behind-the-ears coach (alright, that's me, he didn't characterize him as such) to both himself and to me.

And I thought I was proud of him before. I'll let you know what happens. At least the three of you who may care.

You Know You Gotta Vote

2008-10-02T15:24:00.003-04:00

This is wonderful. You have to watch. Really. Trust me.

If you aren't registered, DO IT NOW. If you are, VOTE. Because I'll tell you what. If you come to me to complain about any facet of our government, if you come to gripe, bitch, snipe, grouse...and you haven't voted? I'm gonna kick your ass right out my door.

Seriously. And don't even THINK of kvetching if you don't vote.

Yarn Overdose

2008-10-01T11:22:00.007-04:00

As I mentioned in the prior post, I hit four yarn shops before I even saw the ocean on my trip to the Outer Banks. I even showed admirable restraint in not going to a fifth. But pretty much that was ALL the restraint I showed.

First, you have to understand, I have no local yarn shop (known in knitting parlance as LYS). The closest ones to me are close to an hour away, and for the most part, are closed when our studio is closed, and I am therefore free to visit them. So getting to actually go to a LYS and fondle the yarn, see the color without wondering if the monitor is changing it, contrast and compare and ask questions, is pure heaven. And so I did, DH frequently wandering to neighboring shops, but returning to act out his Sherpa duties. :::wink:::

I found the differences between the shops to be fascinating, because at two I felt right at home, and at two, while perfectly pleasant, I was not comfortable. And my purchases reflect that.

The first shop I visited was in Richmond, The Yarn Lounge. I had liked their website, an important necessity in this day and age. I walked into a shop that had yarn all around the walls, not tons, but a nice selection. A few needles and tools, and a huge central table. I felt welcomed, that they were interested in me, and not pushed. We talked about A Fine Fleece and one of the ladies showed me the front and back of a sweater from it that she was doing in a yarn called Imperial Stock Ranch. Amazingly, she'd only used two skeins for a 44" bust cabled sweater. This yarn says 200+ yards in a skein, but it has to be considerably more. It's from Oregon, made from Columbia sheep. I got four skeins of it in 2 ply in a shade called Canyon Shadow Blue. I also got two skeins of Malabrigo worsted in Tuareg, a color I also have already in their lace weight. Here's a shot of what I got. The colors are a bit washed out, so I encourage you to look at the website.

My next yarn shop didn't hit me nearly as well. It was Knitting Sisters in Williamsburg, which I found entirely by accident when we stopped for coffee. It's in a cluster of very artsy fartsy shops called Village Shops at Kingsmill. Although the help was quite polite, they weren't warm, you know? I'm always irked when a shop has a sample out that they don't have the yarn to make. I fell in love with a colorwork mitten that was solid with tiny insets of multicolored yarn. They had tons of the multi, almost none of the solid. But they tried to push a kit on me for another, totally different mitten. Nice, it's in Vogue and I liked it, but not what I wanted. When I asked about another yarn, they didn't have it and waved me toward another that wasn't really similar at all. The shop was busy, and the staff was helpful toward most everyone, but I just didn't feel the love. I cannot pin it down better than that, but I can show you that all I bought was two skeins of Noro that I think are destined for some mittens.

This is showing a bit brighter than actuality, but you get the idea.

The next shop was recommended to me by the ladies at the Yarn Lounge, and bless them for it. It was my favorite. Called Knitting Addiction, it's a wonderful, roomy shop, as the picture on their home page shows. They even kept their pretty cat away from me, since I'm allergic. I fell in love with the colorways of Ellyn Cooper, and found a shop pattern (free with the yarn) to make a vest with her Cotton Ripple in Blue Hydrangea plus some Mission Falls cotton. Here you see half what I bought to make it.

All the solid shades of Mission Falls appear in the Cooper yarn in the center. While I was picking them out, the shop owner had already wound the Cotton Ripple!

I saw another quickie pattern, a shrug, that looked perfect for keeping winter chill off in the office, and got it with some Plymouth Brushed Baby Alpaca. It's a lovely gray.

Last, I visited a shop on the Manteo waterfront called Fine Yarns at Kimbeeba. This was a smallish shop but with some nice yarns and another very good website. Again, I didn't feel as at home here, but I did get helpful service. She didn't have the Berroco yarn I wanted, but showed me a couple good substitutes, and even showed me one yarn, an Elsebeth Lavold Silky Wool, that would be about half the others, especially once I got her 15% off for ten skeins or more.Unfortunately, I felt pressured by the shop attendant (owner?) to purchase some very nice Noro sock yarn that I didn't want or need, and that was off-putting, but she did toss in an entralac pattern which was nice.

Thinking back, the thing my two preferred shops (and I emphasize, all four were nice and had helpful aspects) had over the less-preferred was that I didn't feel condescended to. I am pretty yarn-savvy. I run three knitting lists, but in the two shops where I was less comfortable, the staff ASSUMED a lack of knowledge on my part. It seems to me to be a healthier attitude to assume I have a yarn background, and if I have to ask more questions, then go more in-depth with explanations. Or simply ask how much help understanding various yarns I might need.

Assume I'm smart. I'll like you better. More important, I'll spend more. *sigh* Probably more than I should.

OBX

2008-10-01T09:30:00.008-04:00

For the cognescenti, that stands for Outer Banks, and it will often be seen in stickers and magnets on cars...now including mine, since the DH and I got back late yesterday from our first vacation in seven years.

It was wonderful. Other than basic outlines, we made no plans. Considering how structured most of our life has to be, that was wonderful. We left after our last appointment on Thursday, and headed south, thinking we'd spend that night at about the halfway mark. We stopped for dinner, then found a hotel. A Holiday Inn; nothing fancy, but we were just going to sleep, get up, eat and go.

Well, it wasn't too fancy, for sure. When I awoke, my back was covered with some kind of bites. I can only assume from bed bugs, since they most certainly weren't there when I went to sleep. When the DH informed the front desk at checkout, their response was a cavalier, "Sorry about that!" Yes indeedy, a letter to corporate will be sent.

Before leaving the Richmond area, we went to one of the two yarn shops I had found on the 'Net. In fact, I ended up visiting FOUR yarn shops before I ever saw the ocean...I intend to blog on all that a bit later. Then we thought we'd head over to Williamsburg and have some lunch, maybe a bit of a walk around, before finishing our journey, since check-in was after four. I thought it would be nice to eat at the Kings Arms Tavern, because we'd eaten there on our first anniversary trip, thirteen years ago.

Yeah, well, it was a good plan. If we'd had a map so we knew how to park near there. We didn't, so we parked at the visitor's center, planning to walk over. It was hugely muggy out, and after picking up a map, we realized it was WAY more of a hike than we wanted to take, so the darling DH went back for the car, arranging to pick me up at an underpass just ahead. While I waited, I got this lovely shot with my tiny digital.

Don't you just love the play of light? And if we hadn't goofed, I never would have seen it. That became a recurring theme...we'd go off in a wrong direction, and end up with some beauty we never expected.

As we headed on down the road, it was raining on and off. We weren't worried; we knew it was due to clear, and basically, we weren't going to melt. But then we got quite a sign. If you were going on vacation and saw this over the direction you were heading, wouldn't you feel pretty confident?

It was a full rainbow, both left and right, and including the slight ghosting of a second one. Just lovely!

Unfortunately, our gaffe at Williamsburg meant we were caught in rush hour heading around Norfolk and into the Chesapeake tunnel. We got into the Outer Banks after dark, and checked in, having dinner in the Ramada restaurant. Next morning, we got up and headed out for decent coffee (the room provided Maxwell House. We shuddered.) Did a little shopping, including two more yarn shops! - and then drove around a wildlife refuge. It was too late in the day to see much activity, but we did see some snowy egrets. My little camera couldn't get them, but the DH did get a few. I contented myself with a bit of scenery.

If you look beyond the reeds and to the left, you can see some white birdy blobs. :-)

We also went to Kitty Hawk and the Wright Memorial. I liked this view of the Memorial in the distance from the Visitor's Center.

We had a great meal at the Outer Banks Brewery that night. Scallops that were the tenderest I'd ever tasted, and a very good Porter for me. The DH, being a home-brewer, did a sampler of four of the other brews. Another notable meal was at Penguin Isle, a restaurant my cousin had recommended. We got up early enough to capture the sunrise over the ocean, and this place let us watch the sunset over Albemarle Sound. Utterly glorious, and the DH was in charge of capturing them.

One place we found with excellent, fresh roasted coffee was called The Front Porch. They had Kill Devil Hills roasted coffees, and this hysterical sticker on the toilet. Yes, I did go back out to grab my camera just to capture this.

We visited one of the Outer Banks lighthouses on Bodie Island. It's imaginatively called Bodie (pronounced body) Lighthouse. Did we climb it, you ask? Surely you jest.

We had a lot of fun, some romance, found some nice shells, even had a great round of miniature golf, at which, dear readers, I'm distressed to tell you, the love of my life cheated like mad. I still beat him. Life is good. It was even good when, sitting at the edge of the surf, I got a suit full of tiny pebbles. Some in places that I would have thought nothing could reach. :-X We watched plovers, and ghost crabs, and waves, and barely touched the books we'd taken.

Yesterday we had intended to spend a night on the road, but realized we'd rather be in our own bed. However, we had unfinished business. This time, address in hand, we found where we could park to eat at the King's Arms, and we did. Nice lunch, and a bit of a stroll around before a thunderstorm threatened. The DH was suitably punished for his cheating. His face is obscured to save my shame if he were identified in public. LOL

Coming up through VA yesterday evening we kept skirting what looked to be a nasty storm. I caught this shot through the windshield. But we got home safe and sound, much to the delight of the dogs.
The best thing is that we have very little post-vacation letdown. The DH's sweetie of a brother vacations at OBX and has invited us to join him for a few days next July. So we have THAT going for us!