I did fun things on Saturday

Friends of ours have a 16-year-old son who is involved in the "Kids in Aviation" program which is a way of getting them to learn math and science without noticing it, while they get to build an actual honest to God airplane. It is just SO cool! I wish I could do it! The hangar is just across the street from a filbert orchard, and I thought I would show you what January looks like here in the warm, wet Willamette Valley.

So they held an open house to show folks what they were up to. I am SO impressed! These teens are actually building a plane. A real plane. In this photo, they have built the frame of the wing, and they are rivetting the skin to the frame. The copper-looking things sticking up all over? Those are like pins that you use to hold pieces of fabric together when you sew a dress. Then the riveting goes between them, patiently, repetitively, one rivet at a time like seams holding the skin onto the frame. They no longer use the old hot rivet and hammer process. They are now using a quiet little hand-hel power tool that pops the rivets into place. Course, these are tiny little rivets, too. Not like the big suckers they use to build battleships.




You will notice a lot of grey-haired fellows in the crowd. These are the guys who volunteer every Saturday to teach and coach the kids through the construction process.



I caught this shot during a speech. See the fellow in the green hat that looks like he's asleep? He's one of the instructors. He's built seven kit planes already. I want to sit down with him and get him to tell me stories. He's a retired Airlines pilot who started with United in 1953 and when he retired, was doing the Pacific run to Australia and New Zealand. That's when you really flew the plane. Now, the pilots are only there in case of emergencies. Most of the flying is done by the on-board computers.

So after getting to meet these really sharp kids and these really, really cool old dudes, and seeing age coaching youth in practical, useful skills and esoteric math and science, D?H and I stopped at a new branch of a classic old local restaurant and had a superb lunch. If you are ever looking for a superb deli meal, go to Rose's Deli. They are famous for their dinner-plate sized donuts, and their foot high cakes, but OMG their sandwiches and salads! I had romaine lettuce with grilled chicken breast, candied walnuts, dried cranberries, crumbled blue cheese, and raspberry vinagarette dressing. It was a symphony in my mouth. Textures and flavors blended so harmoniously! DH had a reubin sandwich that made his eyes sparkle. We both took half of our meals home for dinner.

And then, my dear friend LG had organized a bread-baking class for a bunch of her friends. We went over to the house of the baker, who has built a wood-fired cobb oven in his backyard. He builds a big fire inside the oven, rakes it out when the bricks are up to temperature, and puts the dough right on the hot bricks. This is baking the old way and it just blew me away. Especially since there is no temperature gauge. Donny, the baker, uses an infrared thermometer, but still got the oven too hot and our first batch was slightly burned. It brought home to me what a profound art cooking used to be. A woman had to be able to tell how hot the oven was just by waving her hand inside it. No gauges, no thermometers, very little control. Years of practice and a real knack would make the difference between barely edible, and truely yummy.

We made rye bread, cheese and onion bread, and super-toast bread. Donny had made up six loaves of each bread beforehand, and we were supposed to help with the baking of that in between learning how to mix up the doughs for each. Then we would bring our three kinds of dough, and three hot loaves of bread home. I was fading fast before we got to the end, so I just brought four wads of dough home (the cheese-onion bread dough, without the addition of cheese and onions, can be used for cinnamon rolls. Heh-heh-heh!) And now there is bread baking even as I type.

So I went from high tech, to low tech. From flight, to the staff of life. From dreams to sustenance. I feel very full and well-rounded. And the cinnamon rolls smell just about done. Wanna come over and share?

the last (almost) of the spindle-spun

I have had such fun making hats out of these little skeins of yarn! This one is definitely a child's hat. The two yarns are significanatly different weights, so I decided to go with it, and used the thicker yarn as a ridge at the turn of the crown. And I went with seed stitch to bulk it up even more.

Now I have to figure out what to do next. I want to make a pair of gloves for my brother-out-law, and I need to make a hat of whimsey for Em. Hmmm - sober gloves or silly hat? Yeah, he's gonna have to wait for the gloves.

I want to make a hat that's bright and happy and has a brim. You know those adds where the people are shopping online for a car, and they say, "An SUV" and a continent of SUV's appears, spreading out around them in every direction? In my head I now have a continent of bright happy hats with brims that want to be made. Some will have to wait for just the right person. (I think I could knit a fuschia pink penis hat that would look very happy, but I don't think Em would wear it much because she's not a dickhead. The people who ought to wear it wouldn't) Some of the hats are disappearing. A brim . . . more of the options are blinking out of possibility. Hmm . . . What do I have in my stash?

This is how my design process goes. Wanna come along for the ride?

car show ho hum

I took the camera to the car show, but there was really nothing worth photographing. OK, Maybe I should have photographed my favorite car - a 1947 Packard. It was like a velvet-lined tank. You could have put on your makeup using the fenders as a mirror - it had such a lovingly polished gloss! I could easily imagine myself behind the wheel. It was a CAR!

The economic woes really showed. "Concept" cars were all focused on getting more miles to the gallon. Electric cars and hybrids were everywhere, but most of them don't do any better than a well-tuned gas engine. The SUVs were more modest, the mini-vans more energy efficient. For the most part, pearl finishes and subdued hues were the thing. Brown, toast and taupe are the fresh new colors this year.

I did enjoy watching the crowds, though. Ruffles are THE fashion trend in Portland. Ruffles on the coats, the blouses, the handbags, the shoes. Any woman with any pretense to style was wearing ruffles somewhere. Except for the ones who went for plaid. Skin-tight stretch plaid pants with big plaid rear pockets, a waist-length black leather jacket, and over the knee black spike-heeled boots. She wore sunglasses indoors, and had tiger-striped hair. There was a sort of bubble of silence around her as people turned to stare.

A stylish young woman in snug jeans with a violet lumberjack plaid jacket and matching sneakers. HOW did she get the exact same plaid in her sneakers? It was SO impressive!

And the sweet young thing in the black and white plaid micro skirt who spent the whole show with both hands gripping the bottom of the rear hem. I heard her insisting on taking the escalator because "I never do stairs when I'm wearing a skirt." I remember occasions when I dressed more daringly than I could stand. Wonder if she;ll ever wear that skirt again?

7:55 AM

And when I get to work, the sun is just rising.
It's a lovely way to start the day, and sure beats dragging in through rain and blackness of a December morning.

It's not spring, but it feels as if winter's back is broken. Sap is rising. Sarcocoa is perfuming the air, and filberts and alders are throwing out their tiny khaki blossoms. I am ready. Oh, I am ready for spring!

A neighborhood study program is going to pay me $70 to wear a pedometer for a week. I'm picking it up today. I may set the sedentary baseline. I enjoy participating in surveys and study programs, and I especially enjoy getting for it!

Of course, we are going to the autoshow this afternoon, which will skew some of the results, but I'm sure they know how to adjust for occasional excursions.

I'm looking forward to the auto show. It always has such blatant silliness available. I'd better have salad for lunch, because we are going out for dinner afterwards, and I have no idea what I might find to eat. Auto show report tomorrow.

Handspun hat - thanks Soozee

Susan was de-stashing and gave away skeins and skeins of spindle-spun yarn. Here are two skeins, artfully combined. There's a hint of mauve in the brown that the pink picks up. Not a hat for a "Manly" man, but a wonderfully warm hat none-the-less. It's been such fun to put these skeins together to make hats. Two more to go.



And the days are getting longer! Look, this is five PM at night. It's not pitch black! Wahoo, wahoo! I love daylight.

Bells asked when I was going to be in Oz. We leave home on March 2nd and arrive in OZ late on the 4th. On the return trip, we will get home a few hours before we leave. The International dateline amuses the heck out of me. I will spend most of my 60th birthday (3/4/50)in the air. Janette,(Knitting on the Avenue) bless her dear heart, is pulling together a few knit-ins for me. We will be in Canberra to see Bells and Jejune, and we will meet with Rose Red in Sydney. Anyone want me to carry anything in my luggage? I'm taking an extra suitcase just for goodies.

Dave asked about tea. Tao of Tea's Rosepetal black (loose)is my favorite. Red clover honey and whole milk make it a rich and dainty desert, but just hot and black it makes a refreshing cuppa. I'm not a lemon sort of girl, and I forget to put it out for my guests. BAD Roxie! Daily tea is good old Lipton in the bag. If I have a lot of writing to do (or the taxes - shudder) I make up a big pot, put on the cozy, and sip away the hours.

I make a wretched cup of coffe, but coffee addicts will take more than one cup of anything hot and black. Hence the success of Fourbucks - ah, Starbucks.

making it up

Teacup photo 'cuz I got nothing, and sometimes, if I just start writing, the ideas will come. It's like pushing the car till it's rolling, then hopping in and and putting it in gear to get the engine started. What's that called, anyhow? A compression start? It takes a manual transmission and you used to get a hill full of "project" cars next to just about any highschool because the boys who owned the cars couldn't count on the engine starting without help..

This teacup makes me think of poetry and other writing. A good writer crafts a tight vessel that the reader will fill with his or her own meaning. But the shape and appearance of the vessle will dictate, to an extent, what goes into it. You COULD eat chili from a porcelain teacup, but a thick stoneware bowl is more likely to hold chili, and the cup is more likely to be filled with tea.

Yeah, and having gotten thus far, I still got nothing. Oh well. I'll have another hat done by the end of the day so hat photos tomorrow. Meanwhile, the brain lies fallow.

A story

Two nuns, Sister Margaret and Sister Jennifer, are traveling
Through Europe in their car.. They get to Transylvania and are
stopped at a traffic light. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a tiny
little Dracula jumps onto the hood of the car and hisses through
the windshield.




'Quick, quick!' shouts Sister Margaret. 'What shall we do?'




'Turn the windshield wipers on. That will get rid of the
abomination,' says Sister Jennifer.




Sister Margaret switches them on, knocking Dracula about, but he
clings on and continues hissing at the nuns..




'What shall I do now?' she shouts.




'Switch on the windshield washer. I filled it up with Holy Water
at the Vatican,' says Sister Jennifer.




Sister Margaret turns on the windshield washer. Dracula screams
as the water burns his skin, but he clings on and continues
hissing at the nuns.




'Now what?' shouts Sister Margaret.




'Show him your cross,' says Sister Jennifer.




'Now you're talking,' says Sister Margaret. She opens the window and shouts, 'Get the fuck off the car, you little bastard!!!'






And her is the small quilt I just finished being held by my Darling Husband. Isn't he a handsome man? I started with some 9 patches I had made up, and kept using up the last bits and bobs of anything I had with gold or tan. It turned out surprisingly pleasant to look at, and it will keep some kid somewhere nice and cozy.

Yellow!!!

A primrose is blooming in the back yard! Wahoo! Signs of spring already! Whoop, whoop! YeeHAW!


While I was out photograping the primrose, the neighbor's cat came over to see what was going on. She didn't want to be friendly, just to see what I was up to. She's a blue-eyed fluffy beauty, and, like cheap toilet paper, she takes shit off of no one.


Last night, I heard the same neighbor's pitbull going "Grrrr, grrrrrrr, bark bark bark,bark, kaiiiii, kaiiii, kaiiiiieeeee!" Then the neighbor was outside going, "Shit! Shit! You stupid bastard! Get over here! Gahhhhh!" And sounds of the whining dog being dragged away by the continually cursing neighbor.

This morning, the entire neighborhood is redolent of skunk. And that's the rest of the story.

unblocked

So I grabbed a couple skeins of Susan's spindle-spun merino, and set about making a hat. Even unblocked, it turned out rather nicely, don't you think? When I took a weaving class in Denmark, the instructor provided the yarn, so no matter what sort of dog's breakfast you made of it all, she could fondle the work and say, "The quality is very nice." With that lovely yarn, how could I have made anything but good?

I'll be piecing a quilt today. Even though no one in Hati needs to be kept warm, I still find myself responding by wanting to knit or sew something. The relief agencies need $$ to pay the helicopters to fly them to the isolated villages. They don't need blankets. They need medical supplies and medical personnel who are willing to sleep on the ground and bring in their own food (MRIs) and do the impossible with nothing at all for days on end. They don't need baby hats or mittens. But tales of suffering evoke hats and blankets from me. It comforts me to have my hands doing SOMETHING to help someone. And I already sent in my check.

unbalanced

So, having the day free yesterday, I ran errands. I used to be able to just grab everything I need, walk out of the house, and get it done in one fell sweep. Yesterday I had to sit down and write out what I needed to do, run around the house and gather all the bits (drycleaning and shopping bags and honey jars and sick laptops) then plan my route and number the errands so I don't forget something . . . I felt like I was trying to get all the laundry out of the dryer and over to the folding table without dropping a sock or walking on a dangling sleeve. I felt like I had a big pile of packages all jumbled together and I was trying to carry them without rational stacking. Things kept trying to slip away. Even though neither laptop could be healed, and I didn't find the rayon cord I was looking for, I got to the end of the day with everything checked off the list, and a profound awe for the juggling skills I have always taken so much for granted. I keep saying that my brain is like a steel seive, but it's getting more so. And the fear of losing things panics me into not seeing them when I look for them. I didn't lose that important receipt. I just didn't see it in the file. I didn't lose the paycheck. I just didn't see it in my wallet. Thank goodness for pencil and paper, and the time to take a deep breath. Thank goodness for routines and habits that get things done without conscious thought. Thank goodness for always putting things in the same place so I know where to expect them to be. I'm beginning to understand why elderly people hate to be moved or have their schedules upset. It's so easy to get lost.

It was a successful day, and I'm off to a perfectly routine day at work. Hope yours is perfectly routine as well!

In search of illumination

There are some dark corners in our house. As it happens, we set up the printer in one of them, and, being over fifty, we need the light to see what we're doing. After discussion as to what kind of a lamp would best suit the area, we decided on the renter's friend, the swag lamp. We both remembered when you could buy a hanging lamp that plugged into the wall, and was suspended from a hook in the ceiling, and off we went in search of one. Either no one makes those any more, or we just didn't know where to look. We tried Home Depot and Lowes. Then we tried a couple of stores that sell only lamps and light fixtures. They didn't carry swag lamps either. They had bored and lonesome clerks who tried to talk us into buying a chandelier and adapting the cord to add an electric plug. This made me a bit nervous (I don't DO electricity.) Then I noticed the prices and they flat out frightened me! And then we came around a corner and found the Pink Thing. It was a dainty little chandelier for a little princess' bedroom, with a pink drum shade and pink ribbons and pink dangly crystals and pink ruffles and a pink thousand dollar price tag. One pink thousand pink dollars! For a bedroom light that doesn't illuminate that much anyhow. And at that point I went into complete sensory overload. I mean, there are a lot of elaborate, extravagant, over the top light fixtures out there, but when you have to pee blood to pay for them? No thank you!

DH is a true hunter, and if the world goes to pot, our tribe will stay well fed because he just doesn't give up! We went to Ikea. There is a small twist in the temporal continum in that place. We walked through, discussed a couple of things for additional kitchen storage, admired the sleek designs and reasonable prices, and left. It couldn't have taken us more than fifteen minutes because there weren't any swag lamps and that was all we were interested in. However, the clock said we had been in there for over two hours! Does this happen to anyone else? And the crowds in that store! I think some of them might still be wandering around after having come in for the post Thanksgiving sales. You need a sense of direction or a native guide to get through the place.

Lunch time - hungry. We found a sushi place with one of those cool moving belts. DH doesn't care for fish, but can usually find one or two things - and did. He'd never been in a sushi bar before, and was entertained by the way the food comes to you, and all you do at the end of the meal is count your plates. Sushi is very low points. You can fill up on seven pieces and spend only 4 points, so I was very pleased. And he remarked that he wouldn't mind going back there some time. WIN!

But we were still lampless. And Home Depot had a floor lamp that we had liked the look and price of. We returned to Home Depot, and picked up - - -



The torchier brightens the whole wnd of the room, and the reading lamp puts light right on the printer. AND, we didn't have to put a hook in the ceiling. It was a good day.

Back to Weight watchers.

None of my clothes fit, my feet hurt, and my blood pressure is up. I gotta loose some weight. So you are duly warned, I'll be obsessing about food for a few months. The Weight Watchers program really does work, but you have to PAY ATTENTION to what you eat. No more just grabbing a chunk of cheese on the run or licking the chicken fat out of the grill pan. While I was doing my cleansing fast, which I haven't done for years, I was astounded at how unconscious my eating has become and by how many things trigger the omnivorous jaw into motion. "It's -time- to eat." "I need to put something into my mouth when I get into the car." "I need something in my mouth as soon as I get home from work." "I need a little something sweet after dinner." Hunger doesn't really play into it much at all. And OMG, the TV ads! You'd think they were DESIGNED to make you want to eat!

DH can just cut back on his portions and in two weeks he's dropped 10 pounds. And he likes stuff that tastes good. Being the dear, loving, generous man that he is, he wants to share the things that taste good with me. So, with love and kindness, he winds up sabatoging my weight loss, and I end up fighting both my inner greed and his lovingly intended booby traps.

I'm a person who wants a mouth FULL of the flavor. If I put jam on my toast, I don't want a light brush of sweetness. I want to BITE the strawberries and enjoy the contrast between crispy toast and the thick layer of jelly. Or I'd rather do without toast altogether. I may decide to re-set this all-or nothing appetite, but right now, I have it all tied up with gusto and living large.

So, apologies in advance. I hope to drop ten pounds by the time we leave for Australia. That's not much on a cow, but it's ten pounds less I'll have to drag up and over the Sydney bridge.

By the way, international postage being what it is, is there anything you would like me to carry to Australia for you?

And thank you, thank you for all your kindnesses and support. You are awesome, generous friends and the world is a better place because you're here!

This is my blog. Well, this is my blog on drugs

I have a clean bill of health! Squeaky clean- inside and out!

There once was a kindly proctologist
who never did need an apologist.
He was gentle and deft
with those turns right and left
and a patient and careful withdrawalist.

He liked my poem. He was a nicefellow, with a great bedside manner. I wore the socks that Heide knit for me and he was mightily impressed by them - particularly by the fact that the tops matched and the toes didn't. Stealth eccentricity!

I took my movie knitting - a mitered shawl with CherryTreeHill yarn in browns and greys with a bit of rust and a thread of green sparkles. (Thank you Lyssa!) The nurses loved it. One took my phone and address to get in touch with me for some knitting help.

They gave me very good drugs and I think I slept through it all. The drugs included a muscle relaxant. It's still working. six hours later. As I swam back to consciousness, the lovely nurse cave me grahm crackers and apple sauce and a cup of tea. I knew enough to sip the tea and put it right back down. Once I woke up with applesuce on my face when I nodded off with a spoonful on the way in. Another time I woke up with un-chewed ghaham cracker in my mouth.

I checked in at 7, saw the doc at 8, got picked up by DH at 10 and he took me to breakfast at Sully's. Stomach, let me introduce you to food. Food, this is my stomach. I managed to remain upright in my chair through the whole meal, though I did sort of slip in and out. I learned that it's not a good idea to eat wiht eyed shut because consciousness is more likely to drop out for a minute or so. Then came home, sat down in recliner and snored for three hours.

Miralax is the gift that evidently never quits giving. I made it to the bathroom in time. Then, being up and moving, I followed my appetite. I wanted Jello. A sure sign that I'm not back to par yet. I lost four pounds since yesterday, and I'm so dehydrated that my fingertips are wrinkled.

Is this too much information? I'm just sort of taking dictation from the pre-frontal cortex and it has no sense of what's appropriate. And my eyelids are rolling down again. Goood drugs. Gooood drugs!

You are wonderful!

Thank you, friends. I knew you would make me feel better, and oh how you have! I am cheerfully prepared for the fast and the laxative, and no longer in anxt about the process. I rather like the idea of DH writing rude poetry on my bum. I'll start composing a limerick. "There once was a kindly proctologist . . ."

You affirm my belief that we are an informational resource for one another. It's one thing to read the information that the hospital sends, and quite another to hear from loving friends. No where in the hospital information does it say, "Stay close to the toilet." This is essential information! Imagine trying to do this process while working in an office. What do you do if you soil your shorts at work? Wash them out in the sink and dry them under the hand dryer? Throw them away and line your pantyhose with paper towels to protect your clothes on the way home? Steal a wastebasket liner to sit on so you don't ruin your car seat? I was going to drink the stuff at work, then go to my writer's group. Wouldn't THAT have been a distressing experience? As it is, I'll go home and take my dose half an hour late. I don't think half an hour will make that much difference. And I'll be in my own friendly home bathroom with all my books and magazines to comfort me, and some scented candles to freshen the air. And I'll lose weight!

Thank you, thank you for comfortimg and encouraging me. I feel wrapped in loving arms and can face tomorrow's procedure with equanimity.

too much information

After all the fun of the knitting tea, the next thing to occupy my mind is my upcoming colonoscopy on Thursday. DH is taking the day off so he can be my transportation. And I am obsessed with the thought of more than 24 hours without food, and the (ahem) shitload of laxatives I will have to take. Thank God for modern medicine. I know lots of people go through much worse procedures. I just can't seem to find anything more interesting to fill my head. I have thank-you notes to write. I sit down with pen in hand and find myself wondering if I should make up some jello to get me through the fast. I have to sit quietly during GED tests, watching out for cheaters, and my head drifts off to trying to come up with jokes for the nurses that they have not heard a million times already. I try to wrote a decent blog, and instead wind up focussing on what sort of food to bring with me to break my fast when I come back to light. Peanutbutter and banana sandwich? Yogurt? Hard boiled egg? All of the above?

So tomorrow is the fast, and then Thursday, at 7AM, I check in for the procedure. Anyone have any idea how long these things take?

Theme yellow

The tablecloth is yellower in real life. Pineapple upsidedown cake, lemon cake with yogurt cheese filling and meyer lemon jelly on top. Deviled eggs for the savory. Ginger Thins and Petite Ecolier biscuits. Lisa and Barb both brought chocolates. And we had a pile of clementines for fruit.

DH made the pineapple upsidedown cake for us and oh my GOSH it was yummy! There is none left over.

I wanted an extra pop of yellow for the table, so I went to Michaels and spent $3 for a stem of artificial forsythia, then pulled it all apart and left a sprig of faux flower on each napkin. Add a clementine on each plate and it looks like a magazine!


We talked and laughed and ate and knitted. MJ is knitting a cape for her rag doll. Maggie is knitting a vest for her beloved. Barb is crochetting an afghan. Lisa made fabulous stitch markers with There were fifteen of us. I didn't get a chance to talk to everyone. I finally threw everyone out at quarter till two. It was a peak experience! I really, really love doing this! What a glorious tintinabulation of happy women's voices. And the house just echoes with happiness afterwards.

thought for the day

sunrise five, camera zero

My ignorance is vast! I tried getting a photo of the sunrise this morning. Huge, vivid, epic sheets of color. I tried different settings. This is shot with the flash turned off.
Ho hum. It looks pastel and rather boring. So I tried with the flash turned on.

And now the colors are too dark.


Too portentous.


The sunrise was lush and so bright that the very air was tinted. This just looks brooding and ominous, as if it bodes ill. And it's not that kind of sunrise at all.


Oh well. At least I can color the scene with my words if I have to. Thank heavens I have a thousand words or so to spare. ;-)

Today is the start of cleaning and baking frenzy for the knitter's tea on Saturday. I think it's going to be lemon cake, deviled eggs, ginger thins cookies, lemon macarons from the "Tea" magazine I just picked up (and may have to subscribe to)and "Petite Ecollier" biscuits for that hit of chocolate. Oh, and I need to run to the store and pick up a couple bags of clementines so we can pretend to be virtuous by eating fruit. Depending on how the macarons come out, I may bake some orange/cranberry scones to fill out the table. Time to put on my sweats and grab the serious cleaning gear. Now where did I park the front-end-loader?

Thoughts on the hereafter

For the last few days I have gone into a room and then asked myself, "What am I here after?" I have developed centipede's dilemma. As soon as I stop and think about what I'm doing, I forget how to do it. If I could just bumble along on auto pilot, I could get things done, but I have been flicking back and forth from stupor to awareness and it takes time to figure out what I was doing and what comes next.

Knitting will be here this Saturday. I'd better get in the groove and start functioning or we'll be shoving unfolded laundry to the side of the table so we can enjoy our tea and oreos. This month's theme is yellow. We all need some sunshine.


Here's the hat I knit during Sherlock HOlmes. I don't know why, but as I was finishing it up, it demanded a quirky little bobble on a string. I-cord during the final minutes on the bridge with the fabulous sepia-toned setting and the gritty feel to the whole scene went just like lightning!

DH is home with a stinking cold. Bless his dear heart. And if I try to nurse him, it just annoys him, so all I can do is leave medicines where he can find them and go about my day.

Best wishes about your day, too!

I've been so flakey

Just drifting in and out on the tides of reality. Another long, lazy weekend. We saw "Sherlock Holmes" this weekend. Yay! Not Basil Rathbone - a younger, sexier, more virile Holmes. Bare-chested in the boxing ring with lots of nice meaty muscle. And a wickedly brilliant mind.

Watson is wonderfully developed and clearly a partner, rather than a stooge, and no slack at fisticuffs himself. The villain is suitably villainous - arrogant, handsome, powerful and evil. Irene Adler was a bit of a disappointment, but oh, well. The center of the story is the relationship between Holmes and Watson. Irene was really quite peripheral.

I was so tickled to get extra entries for the inner super-hero. It does seem that something to carry everything we need is a desireable accessory for all of us. I don't have a cabana, so a cabana boy would be useless to me, but a Regency era page to carry my gloves and fan and knitting and books and a change of shoes and aspirins and back-up knitting and snacks and water bottle and . . . Can you see the youth in pale blue satin knee-breeches and curled powdered wig with a knapsack and a couple of over-flowing market baskets? "Page, where are my smelling salts? I feel a megrim coming on."

Hope the first Monday of the new decade goes well for you!

And the winners are. . .

Boy, you guys make it easy on me. Lisa, Amy and Em, tell me what you want for your prize. And Dave, I'm gonna knit you a willy warmer just because I wanna. Any color requests?

The new year slipped in with its usual ease. DH and I went to bed as usual, then when the neighbors started firing of their shotguns, and banging on pans and hoorahing, we rolled over, kissed one another, and said, "Happy new year." And fell back asleep. Woke up snuggled face to face with Pepper cat stretched out on her back in the hammock of blankets between us. Cat bliss!

No resolutions. No summation of the previous year. If a bus hit me right now I would die happy. Too lazy to figure out all the things I knitted last year. but here's the end of the knitting for 2009

Hat I knitted in the dark while watching Avatar.

Hat I knitted in the livingroom while watching Star Trek - the reboot


Hat i crochetted during GED testing and wore home when the snow fell.

Plans for next year? Oh, I think I'm gonna pretty much keep on keepin' on. We got groceries bought and put away, I baked a batch of chocolate chip cookies and took down all the Christmas decor before 2PM today. It should always be so easy! May it always be as easy for you! Blessings on 2010!