The persistence of fish

 Yes, another goldfish is off the needles.  This one with blue lips and black button eyes.  Next, I think I'll do a stingray.


















It is June, and our roses are thriving. This one is called Perfume Delight and the fragrance is just to swoon over.

Black thumbed gardeners though we are, the tomatoes and pumpkins are thriving.  There are sugar peas climbing the strings, and I have eaten half a dozen of them right off the vines.   YUM!  I doubt any will last long enough to make it into stir-fry.

The new cement pad is in.  The lads who were constructing it, very cleverly shielded it from the rain, tying tarp strings to trees, the roof, and the existing awning, and slanting it to shed the accumulated water.  I would not have thought it out anywhere near so thoroughly.  I was impressed!

DH brought me a nail so I could leave a footnote.  He knows me so well.

a great book

My friend, Lisa Nowak, has written a series of young adult books centered around stock car racing in Eugene Oregon.  Don't let the YA designation put you off.  These are damn good books.  And now you can get the first one for free!  Check this out!

http://lisanowak.wordpress.com/2012/06/27/running-wide-open-is-free/#comment-2216

The story features a teen boy out of control who gets arrested for tagging and winds up being sent to live with his uncle, a stock car driver/mechanic/artist.  You learn a lot about stock cars and racing them while caught up in the really great story. Pick it up!  It's FREE!!

Dozy

 I do love lilies.  Here's pictures of a couple that we passed on our walk on Sunday.  Maybe I should seek out a lily farm for some sniffing and photography.

I don't know for sure what I did yesterday, but by bedtime I had a muscle spasm in my shoulder that was giving me an icepick headache.  So I took Tylenol PM, soaked my shoulders in a hot bath, rubbed in some BenGay, and slept like I had been shot and stuffed. Don't think I even turned over.  Today, I am pain-free, but so dopey.  I nearly nodded off into my breakfast.  I did put my feet up in the recliner and gave in to the need to nap for half an hour, but the cats wouldn't let me be.  so i will be stumbling around with my body telling me to get horizontal, and my head prompting me to get something done.  At least get dressed.  It's 8 AM fercrysakes.  It's immoral to still be in bathrobe and slippers.  What will those nice young men who are coming to pour a pad in the back yard think of you?

We so enjoyed our pavilion last year that DH took one of his quarterly bonuses and bought another.  a second pad leaves less lawn to mow and more space to sprawl.  We are not outdoorsy, gardening sort of folks.  Bug screens and comfy furniture all the way for us.  Roughing it means drinking the champers out of plastic stemware.

Volkswalking

On Sunday, DH and I had a date to go volkswalking.  It was PERFECT weather.  Overcast, cool, and the rain held off till we were done.  We walked through North Portland, an area we are not especially familiar with.  It's wonderfully diverse architecturally, with 1930s cottages, modern Federalist revival mansions , and little  1920s stucco haciendas right next door to one another.  Cottage gardens with no lawn what-so-ever, cheek by jowl with rock-covered xeriscapes, next to front lawns suitable for a softball game.

And at the end of the walk, we found Penninsula Park's rose gardens. There are rose gardens all over the city, because roses thrive here so well that we even have rugosa roses as ground cover next to the freeways.  All the years I have lived in this city, I never had the faintest idea that this bit of glory was here.

It's a sunken garden.  We have driven past it any number of times and been completely clueless.  That's the glory of these volkswalks - we see things that have always been there, and we never noticed.  I bet people get married in that pergola overlooking the roses.

The garden is centered by this magnificent fountain. and on hot days, I betcha the fountain is full of kids.  This is a very formal, symmetrical garden with beautiful brick walks and manicured hedges.

We did our five K walk in good form, and then went out for brunch at Kornblatt's Deli.  What a treat!

But DH is pre-diabetic.  Can anyone explain to him why it's not good to roll out of bed and go for a walk without eating some protein first?  Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, and gnawing on an apple an hour after you get up

doesn't count.  Doesn't it stress the pancreas to have to produce adrenalin on an empty tank?  Or something?  I have  never known a diabetic that liked breakfasts.  Cause or effect, I don't know, but the relationship is there.  I roll out of bed, and I eat. Even if I just grab a slice of bread and a cup of tea, I need that kick-start!  How could this man, who  I love more than chocolate itself, not be like me?

after the fair

Saturday with Amy Lane and her family was like being caught in a whirlwind of confetti and music.  I would post photos, but I forgot to take any.  Amy tools some great ones though.  Check out her blog:http://writerslane.blogspot.com/

This is a family that loves books.  After breakfast, we took a look at the line at VooDoo Donuts that went out the door and around the block - -  and decided to go straight to Powell's City of books.  Three steps inside the door and they scattered like startled ptarmigans.  But Amy has the BEST teenagers in the world, and each of them took a younger sib in charge, which reduced the number of cats needing to be herded by a huge percent.  And thank God for cell phones!  Powell's is four stories high and covers a full city block.  As the store expanded, they kept taking over neighboring spaces, so the store is sort of split-level with stairs and rooms and connecting doorways till you could get quite lost. However, intelligent management has painted each room a different color, and every member of the staff can tell you how to get from where you are to where you want to be.  Also, the store prints off very nice color-coded maps with  helpful symbols and lists.  Amy and I started in the Orange Room ogling the knitting books, and eventually wound up in the Sci-Fi/Fantasy room.  I showed Amy the pillar where various visiting authors have signed their names or even drawn things.  Everyone bought books. I worry about all that extra poundage on the flight home, but book lovers will always manage, somehow.

Our time together was all too brief.  Amy and I have been blog buddies for years, but this is the first time we have been face to face. Amy's FIL, who was also in town, was astounded that we were so comfortable together right off the bat, but, gee, we've been FRIENDS for years!  How could we not be comfortable?  There was so much more I wanted to share and we never hit even a single yarn store.  That leaves us things to do on the next visit.

movie reviews

DH was sent home this week for "Lack of work."  This after weeks when he had to work 10 hr days and every other weekend to "get the product out."  Sounds like crisis by management to me.

 But I reap the benefits, because this means we get to go to mid-week matinees.  Yesterday, we saw, "Snow White and the Huntsman."  Charlize Theron owned that flick!  She is a brilliant evil queen.  And Chris Helmsley is SOOO easy on the eyes.  I enjoyed the whole film, especially the seven dwarves.

Today we went to see "Brave."  The audience, at the 10AM showing, was 80% - under the age of twelve, 18% - parents of the  wee ones, 2% - DH and me.  I enjoyed the heck out of it, and DH was a wonderfully good sport.  The animation on the animals was amazing.  The horses moved like horses.  The skin rippled over muscles and eyes had depth and expression.  Pixar does an awesome job.

Plotwise, it was a Disney flick.  Predictably happy ending.  But i did like that the mom got turned into a  bear. I felt really sorry for her.

And the music was Celtic as can be.  So haunting and entrancing.

There was a short animation called, "La Luna" shown before "Brave."  I really, really enjoyed that one, too.

So, how do I get Pixar to make my books into a film?

Amy Lane is my hero

Years ago, I discovered Amy Lane, another knitting writer in the Blogverse.  She taught high school in Sacramento, Ca.  We are twin sisters of separate mothers.  Our sense of humor is rude.  Our love is profound and enduring. We evaluate people by how they behave, not by who they sleep with, or how much money they make, or how pretty they look. We write about fantasy and magic and love.  However, she, in spite of a full-time job and four kids, has made a success of her writing whileI continue to lollygag around.

Sheand her family are coming to Portland this weekend.  I get to actually MEET her! Squee!  How much of the city can I show her in one short day?

Amy, baby, I am so excited that I will need to wear Depends because I'm just wetting my pants!

It's good to have friends.

LB and I have been friends for over forty years. We have been classmates and roommates.    I introduced her to her husband.  She stood by me through my pregnancy and the adoption of my son.   So when she called and asked me for help, because she had carpal tunnel surgery on her left wrist, then broke her right wrist, of course I stepped up.  So did everyone who knows her.  Her husband and daughter were already at their summer home where said daughter has her first full-time job.  And LB was staying behind to get the town house ready for the people who will be renting it for the summer.

So she sent out the call for help and the hordes arrived.  The guys cleaned up the yard and the garage.  Women were everywhere, doing laundry, cleaning the kitchen, the living room, the bathrooms, changing sheets, packing the contents of the master bathroom and closet, and carrying it all down to the spare room.  In four hours, we had LB packed and ready to go, had the place fit for renting, and two wonderful women are making the 6 hour drive with her tonight, spending the night, then taking the six hour drive back to town the next day. To have a friend, you have to be a friend, and clearly, LB has been one hell of a swell friend because her friends pulled through!

It's too bad that  I am at an age where four hours of serious packing and romping up and down stairs with full boxes is enough to wipe me out for the rest of the day.  It's wonderful to be at an age when the friendship is worth it. Good luck LB.  Have a good summer.

Roses

LG and I went to the Heritage Rose Gardens today.   Roses sort of grow like weeds in this area, but the Heritage Gardens have some awesome varieties.  like blue roses.  I know, "blueroses" sounds like a lung disease.  But aren't they beautiful?

The garden has a long,long arbor overgrown with climbing roses.  There are benchesalongthe inside ofthearbor.  I can imagine being in there on a hot sunny day, ready to swoon from the intensity of the perfume.

They had miniature roses with blooms the size of a quarter, and  others the size of a salad plate.  They had climbing roses that wove themselves into the nearby trees and threw heavy white trusses of blossoms a hundred feet high. They had roses that were one color in the bud and another color when they opened.  They had old-fashioned cabbage roses and hybrid tea roses and rugosa roses which people in Scandinavia grow because they have colorful hips that can be brought into the house for something fresh and cheery in the middle of winter.

 And they have elegant, simple wild roses in their five-petaled classic beauty.  

We walked and sniffed, sniffed and stared.  Small birds chirped and tweeted all around us, and LG no doubt wished for her binoculars.  Swallows swooped low over the rose beds, and though the day was overcast and windy, the rain held off until we were ready to break for lunch.  We picnicked in the car, cozy in the warmth and that wonderful feeling when  the rain is pounding down outside, and you are safe inside with someone you enjoy who brings out your best side.

Make new friends, but keep the old.
One is silver and the other is gold.

The difference between boys and girls.

Beyond the basic plumbing connections, boys and girls, in general, have many things uncommon. Girls like attention to details.  Embroidery on the napkins and sprinkles on the cupcakes and pretty-colored sauce on the plate under the salmon, and fancy soaps in the bathroom.

Guys like booger jokes.  My DH, in searching for a new breakfast restaurant ran across a review for a place that had an unsightly bathroom.  Built up crusts of nasal secretions within arm's reach of the toilet at levels for standers or sitters. The review went on, but I slapped my hands over my ears and sang  while he continued reading aloud, laughing so hard he nearly had tears running down his cheeks. I have never before seen him so amused by a piece of writing.  And every male I know is like that.  The dearest transvestite I ever met still liked booger humor.  Are there any women out there who thinks nosejuice is anything but disgusting?

Then there is the difference between chick flicks and guy films.  Chick flicks have people talking to one another and dealing with life's experiences.  Guys films have explosions, destruction, and clearly defined villains and heroes.  I like guy films if they have some character development, but unless a film has loud martial music and pieces of something flying through the air, or naked female flesh, guys are going to get bored.  Maybe I should write a film about naked people talking to one another while they blow things up.  Oh, that's been done.

The county fair has a table-setting competition.  I have considered doing a his-n-hers picnic.  His is a brown paper bag holding a big thick bologna and onion sandwich and a can of coke. Hers is a pretty basket with a checkered cloth, lemonade in a thermos with a pretty glass to drink it from, a chicken salad sandwich with the crusts cut off, carrot sticks in a neat little sealed container, a chocolate cupcake with a pink frosting rose on top, and a cloth napkin.

Yes, I'm generalizing.  I know there are guys who can turn out a gourmet picnic with all the details laid on in the picnic basket that unpacks like a clown car holding everything up to and including the rose in the bud vase.  And I know there are women who would rather go hungry than fuss with cutting off the crusts.  Where do you stand?  If fixing for myself, I'll eat cold beans directly from the can while standing over the sink.  But for others, the sky's the limit!

what happens when you throw fish food to the geese.

weekend in the woods

This weekend,DH and I went over the pass to the Metolius River watershed to party with my niece at the family cabin.

There have been some pretty big wildfires through the area in the last few years.  It changed the looks of the scenery completely.  Instead of impenetrable green stands of firs and tamaracks,there are bare white tree skeletons for miles and miles.  

I have never, in the 62 years of my life, seen three-fingered Jack from this side before.  It's eerie.  And all that dead wood stands there, ready to burn again the next time lightning strikes in August.

We stopped for a bit at Suttle Lake. The day had high overcast, and the light was oddly yellow.  If you enlarge the photo, you can see a burned over ridge on the far side of the lake.  Down to the right you can see a young man trying to teach his dog to surf.  I guess, with dogs, you have to start in calm water and get them used to the board.






My brother has a fish pond at his cabin, and a pair of geese have moved in and managed to raise 5 goslings to the awkward adolescent stage.  Mom to the left, Dad to the right, and all the little ones between.  Mom and Dad spent some time hissing at us when we showed up, but they soon settled down.  Notice those shadows in the water to the right of the geese?

Rainbow trout.  Hand raised, fat and happy pet trout.

 18 to 24 inches long. Would you like to go swimming with fish that are longer than your forearm - elbow to fingertips?  The geese don't care for it either.  We got a video of what happens when you throw fish food in amidst the geese, but we're having trouble getting it onto the blog. Still trying.  No geese were harmed in the making of this video.

It was a gorgeous day for a barbecue, and the swimming pool was full of kids all day long.  We feasted on tri-tip steaks and about 7 different kinds of salads, garlic bread, and for desert, I brought chocolate chip cookies, cranberry, oatmeal cookies, and gingersnaps.  The gingersnaps disappeared first.

not a fish

Still on a hat kick.  I promised MJ that I would make her a pink hat to replace one that was lost, but I couldn't remember how I had made the first one.  So I cast on and followed my instincts.    My instincts do love fluffy pinkness!  I might make another one of these for myself some day.

Rainbow trout

 The cool and wet weather has been very good to our dogwood tree.  DH bought this for me when we were first married and it has thrived!  It just keeps getting bigger and more beautiful.  Symbolic, eh?

 So here's a rainbow trout.  It's made withRed Heart yarn which feels like the plastic pop bottles it's made of, but it was the closest to what I had in mind.  Must search for better rainbows.  Even to buy 5 solid colors and stripe them is hard because even within a single brand, the casts and hues are hard to match. The red, green, yellow and blue may be crayon clear, but the orange and the violet are muddy or gray.  Or the red is too blue.  Or the yellow is too chrome. Or the green is too sage.  I'll have to shop harder.

The lips are made from Benita's all natural dyed yarn.  I had to use something real in it.  It is taking me about 8 hours to knit a fish now.  Just about the time I have memorized the pattern, I'll get bored with it and go haring off onto something else.  Still, DH incoming up with great and challenging ideas for the fish hat.  Can I knit a stingray?

a goldfish

The body yarn was dyed with Easter egg dye in pink, orange and yellow, (and half a bottle of yellow food coloring. ) The traffic-cone orange is scrap from my stash.  I ran short, so couldn't do the dorsal and pectoral fins all orange as I wanted to, so had to eke it out with some tan from the stash.    I have enough of the body color to do another fish and think I probably will go for it.  Since I'm out of orange, what color for contrast do you think? Black for lips and tail and body color for the fins?

I'm almost finished with the rainbow trout.  It's taking me about 8 hrs to knit one hat.

DH is coming up with ideas for more hats.  I have some mottled gray that I may use for a stingray.  And how about a sea anemone?  Lots of I-cord tentacles.

I found the wicker head by the way.  You know how, when you have something in the same place day after day and you just quit noticing that it's there? Yep.  It was on top of the bookshelf next to my bed.  Duh.

I tend to be monogamous

Usually I like to do one project at a time.  I know there're folks who delighting in having seven knitting projects, 3 writing projects,  five sewing projects and  a dresser they are stripping and refinishing, all going at the same time.  I can't do that.  I somehow wound up with three half-finished quilts and two knitting projects going at once, and it galled me like a burr under the girth strap.  So last Thursday MJ and I finished the trip around the world quilt, and I felt better.  Yesterday, I put the final seam into this quilt, and my heart is eased.  One of the reasons the pieces don't line up perfectly is because I forgot whether I was putting in quarter inch, or half-inch seams, and even managed to throw in a few three-quarter inch seams as well.  this was a design that came to me in a dream, and could stand more refinement. But I like it.

I pieced the back with leftovers and sort of enjoy the random errata of it.  And what an easy  palette to work with!  I still have lots of brown fabric left, so at least one more brown quilt is in the offing.  But not till I finish piecing a back for one more and tying the knots in that one and this one.

As for the knitting, I am still on the dead fish hats kick, and will post goldfish hat photos tomorrow.  I have started a rainbow trout to enter into the county fair, and will enter the goldfish into the state fair.  And then there is a car project that requires no counting or following of patterns, being a garter-stitch jacket knitted sideways.

But meanwhile, I am getting a serious longing to do embroidery. Maybe I should make myself an apron.

Knitter's tea

 It's the second Saturday of the month and the ladies assembled again for tea.I made angel food cake and dressed it up with a vase full of peach rosebuds that matched the peach tablecloth. And even though our glorious Hood berries are not yet available,I made do with ordinary strawberries in a pretty footed compote.  Angelfood cake with fresh strawberries is ambrosial!

For cookies I made macarons with the hazelnut meal left over from the hazelnut rum balls.  Not a good idea.  There may be too much fat in hazelnuts.  Anyway,the macarons did not bake up to light and crispy bites but turned out substantial and hazlenutty.  So I spread Nutella between the cookies to make sandwiches with them. A fail, saved.  Everything is good with Nutella.

I also made some lavender and rosemary shortbread, and shared a few green tea mochi because I've never tried mochi and this seemed like a good time to experiment. They didn't exactlyring my chimes.

For sandwiches, I made a cheese spread with cheddar, parmesan, and a teensy bit of wasabi jack cheese, and paired it with sliced ham on pumpernickel bread.  They were quite tasty.

We were quite a small gathering.  Of the ten guests that had responded to the invitation, three actually showed up.  One called to let me know she had car trouble.  And I guess everyone else just had better things to do.  But those who arrived had a splendid time and we feasted happily.

I know that people in the rest of the country are having summer now.  This is the sky outside at noon.We might get up to 65 degrees today.  It's still raining in Oregon.

quilt accomplished

MJ and I completed a "Trip around the world," using vintage fabrics from her childhood.  It was so much fun!  Strip-piecing works like magic for this quilt.

It's still raining.  The Rose Festival, (an annual fertility and sacrifice of the virgins celebration when the sailors come upstream to spawn) always happens in the rain.  In fact, I remember only three years when it didn't rain on the Rose Parade, and one of those was back in 1980 when we had an ash fall from Mt. St. Helens.  All those little kids. squatting on the curb in their particle masks, eagerly awaiting the marching bands which couldn't play because of the ash, and the equestrian groups which had to cancel because the ash was too hard on the horses, and the floats, which were delayed because the ash got into the motors and made them seize up so by the end of the parade, all the floats were being pulled by tow trucks.

No chance of that this year.  It's raining.  Men will arrive at their chosen viewing spot about 3 AM and start setting out chairs, marking their territory with duct tape, hunkering down in small pop-up tents (which have to come down at sunrise) or just draping themselves in blue plastic tarps and growling at possible interlopers.

After sunrise, the women and children begin to straggle in, bearing coffee and pastries, cocoa in thermoses, lunches in ice chests.  Two hours before the parade is due, every possible square  inch of sidewalk will be occupied, kids will be playing in the closed-off streets, (Wise mothers bring sidewalk chalk and extra blankets) vendors will be strolling along, selling those nasty plastic horns,  sparkly princess wreathes with ribbons, balloons, damp popcorn, wilting cotton candy, peanuts in the shells and whatever the fad of the day may be (deep-fried pickle on a stick?)  Just about the time you decide that if that f----ing kid blows that f----ing horn one more f----ing time you will f----ing tear his f----ing little head the f--k off, you hear the distant rumble of Harleys and you know the vanguard is approaching.  Motorcycle police proceed the parade to clear the way.  Everyone who had flowed out onto the street has to retreat, along with their ice chests and lounge chairs.  The sidewalk is jammed back to chest.  Some gallant young men may take girlfriends up on their shoulders so "the poor lil thang can see."Not realizing that the parade will last well over an hour and that poor li'l thang will get heavier by the minute until, right as the Multnomah County Sheriff's mounted patrol is passing, his knees give way and he dumps her into the crowd.

 On the street, Princesses will smile and wave  from the back of convertibles  or from the back of their rodeo mounts or from the float representing their local festival, their beautiful garments dimly glimpsed through their clear plastic raincoats.  At the head of the parade route, drum-majors and baton twirlers will perform with élan and panache.  Toward the end of the route, they will trudge doggedly by, grimly determined just to survive to the end.  The rain comes down, uniforms become saturated, cold and heavy. Sodden socks in the marching shoes begin to squish, and you know that manic kid whaling away on a soggy snare drum has got to be on drugs.  You wish you had some too.   And at last the street cleaners crawl past, roaring brushes sweeping up litter and debris, small dogs, and anything the popper scoopers may have missed.

Then begins the exodus.  Everyone has to pack up their chairs, their ice chests, their kids and all the cheap trinkets they bought to keep the kids quiet.  Nasty plastic horns get broken or "lost" and about a hundred thousand people begin to disperse.  Public transport is impossibly crowded. Parking lots are nightmares. Over-stimulated kids are screaming.  Overwrought parents are snarling.  Anyone who does not actually have a child in tow slinks into the nearest bar to wait until the crowd thins.  Intrepid souls head for the "Fun Center" to enjoy the rides, games and itinerant vendors of choppers in hoppers, miracle car polish, and magic beans.

I, on the other hand, will be in my own cozy home, enjoying tea, angel food cake and strawberries, and gentle conversation with other ladies while all this madness proceeds downtown.  And on Sunday, I will catch the highlights on TV.  I no longer need to have my toes trodden to feel I have truly experienced parade.

Knitting at my house on Saturday.  I'm thinking maybe cheddar biscuits with ham salad for a savory.  what do you think?

Faux trout

 DH, under protest, modeling the latest in the dead fish hats.  This is a faux trout for his brother, the scoutmaster.  The eyes are yellow LEDs, and DH is not yet satisfied with them.  We tried inserting them into pingpong balls, but the glow was just too dim.        DH intends to continue work to improve the eerie fish light, anticipating what fun a boy scout campout could be with a yellow-eyed faux trout swimming at them through the dark.

The angler fish was received with great delight by the birthday boy, who had, in fact, seen similar fish in real life.  He activated the blinking "bait" and grinned at his wife.  She grinned back and gave him a kiss.  He remarked, smugly, "It works!"

I am learning more, design-wise with each one of these hats.  When we were at Radio Shack, picking up the LEDs, battery pack with on/off switch, and the wire needed to assemble them, the guy at the store was very interested in the project and wondered if I might consider making them to sell.  Hmmmm-maybe.  If I don't have to flog them to the public. And if I can get $50 apiece for each hat.

While I'm still doing them for the fun of it, though, I dyed some white wool with Easter Egg dye  (Really cheap after Easter is over) and  have some lovely goldfish-colored yarn dripping dry in the pavilion.  I am also thinking it might be fun to knit a rainbow trout in violet, red, orange, yellow, green, and blue stripes.  There are so many wonderful fish in the world, aren't there?  How would I do a sword fish?

volkswalk

DH and I took another Volkswalk yesterday.  This was out in the country, in the verdant Willamette Valley.  It was about 65 degrees, and the rain held off until just after we finished our 6 kilometers.  Lovely scenery.  Without the cloud cover, there would have been some awesome views as well.  I might suggest a return hike when the weather clears (mid-July.)  One house we passed was guarded by the world's most friendly pug who wanted to walk the rest of the way with us.  This dog should be a Walmart greeter or a maitre'd in his next life.  Honestly, he did everything but offer us a beer and some chips.

 Isn't this a cool passage?  This is what happens when you plant cedars along the driveway, and wait fifty years.

The event was based at a peony grower's farm.  DH snapped a shot of me snapping a shot of the fields.  the photo I took was one of the .99 gazillion pictures  that wasn't worth keeping.  But I love just about any picture of me!

Next Saturday,DH has to work. I don't know when we'll do our next walk, but soon!  The club has established goals and badges that you can work toward. We are going to participate in the program. First, we'll shoot for our "W" badge, looking for waterfalls, water towers and other w things on the walks.  This makes it even funner!

My old man's an icthyologist

People who are as old as I am may remember the Smothers Brothers singing,"My old man's a fireman. Now what'dya think about that?  He wears a fireman's collar.  He wears a fireman's hat.  He wears a fireman's raincoat.  He wears a fireman's shoes.  And every Saturday evening, he reads the Sunday news. And some daaaay, if I caaaaan, I'm gonna be a fireman, the same as my old man."

They go on to name other occupations: policeman, postman, cowboy, anthropologist . . . So when Denise in Canberra sent me the pattern for a dead fish hat, I realized that it is an ichthyologist's hat.

This picture doesn't show the dead-fish X's on the eyes.  I have had so much fun with this that I am knitting more ichthyology hats.

A friend of ours used to hold the world record for deep ocean dives, so I figured he might enjoy an angler fish from the depths.

DH figured out a way to wire a little led into the end of the angler's dangly thing.  It flashes red.

I'm currently working on a quasi-trout for my brother-in-law the scout-master.  I'm considering how to get the flashing red lights under the eyes.  What could I sew down that would be translucent domes?






And what have I done with my wicker hat mannequin?  Swear to  dog, it's not like the thing is so small I could misplace it in a pile of papers.  I've looked everywhere it ought to be and even checked in the freezer because, you never know.  After all, I opened the dishwasher yesterday to find a box of oatmeal on the bottom rack.  Luckily, I had not yet run the dishwasher.

SO the black hat goes off to Australia as soon as I can find the big manilla envelopes.  Much as I would love to list it as "dead fish" on the customs forms, Australian customs has no sense of humor what-so-ever.  I'm on their naughty list ever since I tried shipping some alpaca roving for a Christmas gift.  I didn't know then how big a deal it is to ship natural products to Oz.  Hope the rum balls will get through ok.