I celebrated an excellent day of work (capped with an email letting me know I'd done a fine job of writing for the grade 1 kids--maybe there's hope for me after all!) with a big meal and now I'm stuffed.
oof.
I really need to get over to Belleville though to buy more white flour because 100% whole-wheat flour french bread just isn't quite the same . . .
News. Hmmm. Well I finished the first twin sweater and I'm well into the placket on the second sweater. I might, possibly, finish it tonight. We'll see.
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Sunday, February 26, 2006
Olympic Reflections
There's no way I can finish my sweater in five hours given that I really need to finish work first. I made great progress in both areas yesterday, regaining all the ground I'd frogged and knitting past that point, but even knitting until 1:30am, I'm still a good two to three hours away from finishing the first sweater and another 9 to 10 hours away from finishing the second sweater.
The fact is though that I've learned a few important things over the last two weeks.
The first is that we've turned a corner my family and I. Even a year ago it would have been unthinkable for me to attempt to finish one child's sweater, much less two. I didn't have time for anything. If I wasn't working for pay I was working on getting us moved. The year before that I was just slowly starting to find time for myself again with two two-year-olds and a 7-yr-old. I hadn't knit since the twins were a few weeks old.
Breaking ties with my longest-running client who had always been my most time consuming and disfunctional client--but had in the few years finally become so much so that it was interfering in my ability to get anything else done--has left me feeling a bit odd. Shouldn't work be harder than this? I mean, I'm in the middle of a huge project but sometimes I even get to take the weekend off! That never used to happen. (It didn't happen this week, but that has more to do with the cold I've been fighting than the work.)
There's no denying the fact that I had a little time to knit almost every day for the last two weeks and some nights I got to sit with my husband and watch grainy television of the olympics for a few hours at a stretch while I worked. It felt so deliciously normal. Something we've put off until we had more time and less stress for so long now.
The sweaters are turning out well. There's plenty of room in the shoulders in the bigger sizes. The annoying yarn is fantastic once knitted up. The long skeins of yarn which are so flippin' annoying when you're knitting because no matter how careful you are the last few feet tangle mean that there are only a half-dozen or so ends to weave in. I found some pretty blue buttons to finish them with. I might get them both finished by tomorrow night--or maybe not till Wednesday. But soon. I clearly have more time to knit that I thought I did.
When I'm done with the current round of child and baby sweaters, I need to take a week or two to plan out this spring's garden. I haven't done nearly enough yet. But it's nice to know that with a little effort I can finish a sweater before the child has had a chance to outgrow it. Yeah, me! I'll post pictures soon of the finished sweaters.
The fact is though that I've learned a few important things over the last two weeks.
The first is that we've turned a corner my family and I. Even a year ago it would have been unthinkable for me to attempt to finish one child's sweater, much less two. I didn't have time for anything. If I wasn't working for pay I was working on getting us moved. The year before that I was just slowly starting to find time for myself again with two two-year-olds and a 7-yr-old. I hadn't knit since the twins were a few weeks old.
Breaking ties with my longest-running client who had always been my most time consuming and disfunctional client--but had in the few years finally become so much so that it was interfering in my ability to get anything else done--has left me feeling a bit odd. Shouldn't work be harder than this? I mean, I'm in the middle of a huge project but sometimes I even get to take the weekend off! That never used to happen. (It didn't happen this week, but that has more to do with the cold I've been fighting than the work.)
There's no denying the fact that I had a little time to knit almost every day for the last two weeks and some nights I got to sit with my husband and watch grainy television of the olympics for a few hours at a stretch while I worked. It felt so deliciously normal. Something we've put off until we had more time and less stress for so long now.
The sweaters are turning out well. There's plenty of room in the shoulders in the bigger sizes. The annoying yarn is fantastic once knitted up. The long skeins of yarn which are so flippin' annoying when you're knitting because no matter how careful you are the last few feet tangle mean that there are only a half-dozen or so ends to weave in. I found some pretty blue buttons to finish them with. I might get them both finished by tomorrow night--or maybe not till Wednesday. But soon. I clearly have more time to knit that I thought I did.
When I'm done with the current round of child and baby sweaters, I need to take a week or two to plan out this spring's garden. I haven't done nearly enough yet. But it's nice to know that with a little effort I can finish a sweater before the child has had a chance to outgrow it. Yeah, me! I'll post pictures soon of the finished sweaters.
Saturday, February 25, 2006
Seven Degrees of Geek
I'm not as nerdy as some, never was. It helped that I wasn't seriously handicapped by acne or bad hair. I quit band after 8th grade. I went into theatre but in the geek world, theatre is cool and in the non-geek world--well, I guess I wouldn't know.
I was good at math, but only my teacher noticed. I picked up computers early on--but when you're a nerd, you hang with nerds--I didn't catch on that this was still special until I got to college and found that most of the other students didn't know how to check their own email. Email back then was different. It was in-network only. I could only get email from other people at my own college or from other colleges with the same network. I had two friends who attended schools where they *could* have sent me email--but they didn't know how to use the email system.
Compared to Chris, I'm an uber Geek. I admit, I never played Dungeons and Dragons--okay, wait, maybe twice. But Chris, as geeky as he was (and he WAS), still rose above the other geeks for two reasons:
1) His music was not geeky.
2) He got the lead roles. All of them.
I didn't get the music. I still don't really get the music although I can appreciate that some of it really has something to say. But tonight as I bob my head more or less (Chris will say, "less") in time to Mercy Me on the headphones and type along--the worst of the work out of the way and cruising hopefully towards that point tonight when I can turn off the computer and start trying to regain my knitterly competitive edge--it's occuring to me that I'm doing NOTHING to discourage my kids from thinking Mom is soooo uncool. She is geeking out to Christian Rock!!!
It's true. Alaska the Uncool. (Better than Ethelred the Unready, no?) Good thing we gave them some good looks. Maybe they can attract some beautiful young hip brilliant woman to bring us some cool, hip genes for the grandchildren.
I'm off, Barenaked Ladies just came on the headphones and I might have to get up and dance badly.
I was good at math, but only my teacher noticed. I picked up computers early on--but when you're a nerd, you hang with nerds--I didn't catch on that this was still special until I got to college and found that most of the other students didn't know how to check their own email. Email back then was different. It was in-network only. I could only get email from other people at my own college or from other colleges with the same network. I had two friends who attended schools where they *could* have sent me email--but they didn't know how to use the email system.
Compared to Chris, I'm an uber Geek. I admit, I never played Dungeons and Dragons--okay, wait, maybe twice. But Chris, as geeky as he was (and he WAS), still rose above the other geeks for two reasons:
1) His music was not geeky.
2) He got the lead roles. All of them.
I didn't get the music. I still don't really get the music although I can appreciate that some of it really has something to say. But tonight as I bob my head more or less (Chris will say, "less") in time to Mercy Me on the headphones and type along--the worst of the work out of the way and cruising hopefully towards that point tonight when I can turn off the computer and start trying to regain my knitterly competitive edge--it's occuring to me that I'm doing NOTHING to discourage my kids from thinking Mom is soooo uncool. She is geeking out to Christian Rock!!!
It's true. Alaska the Uncool. (Better than Ethelred the Unready, no?) Good thing we gave them some good looks. Maybe they can attract some beautiful young hip brilliant woman to bring us some cool, hip genes for the grandchildren.
I'm off, Barenaked Ladies just came on the headphones and I might have to get up and dance badly.
"I'm good at finding numbers in the whole world!"
Milo said he needed to do his homework. What are the chances my kids are going to come to me some day blaming me for their workaholic tendencies? Can I claim it's genetic?
When is an SSK not an SSK?
An SSK is never an SSK. An SSK is really an SSPTBL. Or something. It had been a bit since I hit an SSK in my knitting pattern and I hit this point late at night the first time I hit it. I thought, um, okay--slip twice as if to knit, then, well, knit! Right? Wrong. You slip twice as if to knit, stab them through the front of those needles with the old needle and then wrap the loop around the new needle in something that seems like purling through the back of the loops . . . it's a mess.
I have nothing to complain about. I've SSK'd since the dawn of my knitting experience. I have no idea why I suddenly had brain damage and SKK'd improperly. All I know is, it's not good. Here is sweater #1. Not too bad.
I'm only this far along--it won't be too painful to rip back four rows and do it right.
But here's sweater #2. This is going to hurt. I was already five rows into the seed-stich placket thing. I was going to go buy buttons this morning.
But it didn't look RIGHT. So I investigated and sure enough--there's just no excuse. Me and Lyndsey whatshernoodle who grabbed her snowboard and lost the gold. There may be no recovery from this. I have 29 pages to write this weekend. I know for a fact that four of those pages are time consuming. The others go quickly--but how quickly? There's still TWENTY-FIVE of them!
I took the sweaters to the yarn store to get the buttons. I showed everyone my brain fart. I asked for opinions.
They said leave it.
I said but there's two--they have to match.
They said, "Make the same mistake on the other one."
I nodded at the wisdom of this. I bought my buttons. I came home.
I CAN'T DO IT!! It's one thing to leave in an error that you think noone might really notice.
I was totally cool with this one:
There's a stitch I dropped there and in feeding it back up the edge it popped out a bit from the other around it. It's on a back seam. Noone will notice. I knit on.
But it's a WHOLE NOTHER BALL OF WAX to intentionally make the same mistake in an entirely different sweater.
Sigh . . .
I was so proud. See my creative use of office supplies when I ran out of stitch markers and stitch holders? Binder clips and binder rings. I'm a genius!
But there was nothing to be done for it.
I'm off to pick up 281 stitches. Then, I promised myself 15 pages complete before I pick up the needles to go forward.
I have nothing to complain about. I've SSK'd since the dawn of my knitting experience. I have no idea why I suddenly had brain damage and SKK'd improperly. All I know is, it's not good. Here is sweater #1. Not too bad.
I'm only this far along--it won't be too painful to rip back four rows and do it right.
But here's sweater #2. This is going to hurt. I was already five rows into the seed-stich placket thing. I was going to go buy buttons this morning.
But it didn't look RIGHT. So I investigated and sure enough--there's just no excuse. Me and Lyndsey whatshernoodle who grabbed her snowboard and lost the gold. There may be no recovery from this. I have 29 pages to write this weekend. I know for a fact that four of those pages are time consuming. The others go quickly--but how quickly? There's still TWENTY-FIVE of them!
I took the sweaters to the yarn store to get the buttons. I showed everyone my brain fart. I asked for opinions.
They said leave it.
I said but there's two--they have to match.
They said, "Make the same mistake on the other one."
I nodded at the wisdom of this. I bought my buttons. I came home.
I CAN'T DO IT!! It's one thing to leave in an error that you think noone might really notice.
I was totally cool with this one:
There's a stitch I dropped there and in feeding it back up the edge it popped out a bit from the other around it. It's on a back seam. Noone will notice. I knit on.
But it's a WHOLE NOTHER BALL OF WAX to intentionally make the same mistake in an entirely different sweater.
Sigh . . .
I was so proud. See my creative use of office supplies when I ran out of stitch markers and stitch holders? Binder clips and binder rings. I'm a genius!
But there was nothing to be done for it.
I'm off to pick up 281 stitches. Then, I promised myself 15 pages complete before I pick up the needles to go forward.
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Cough, Cough, Whhhheeeeeee
[to blues beat]
I woke up this mornin'
Crawled out of bed.
Coughin' and hackin',
But not quite yet dead.
I put on my clothes,
I think they were clean
I can't quite be sure,
who cares--they were jeans.
The baby was hungry,
(He told me so.)
He wanted cheese bread.
So I made some dough.
My big boy said "Mom,
we're out of dog food,"
so I scrambled the eggs
and fed them some, too-d.
I needed more words
to appear on the paper
but [needle-scrapes-across-record-sound]
I couldn't get anything done. So I grabbed the keys and went to the post office where the last of the Olympic Yarn I needed was waiting. (That was some seriously fast shipping from Angelika's Yarn Store--and it was very nicely packaged.) From there I went to the Woo-Woo health food store. I don't really like this place. No reason. It's just not a warm, welcoming place. It feels . . . stuck up, somehow. But they had herbal throat-calming tea and I wanted that.
Back home I made the tea, yum, but now my cough was more noticeable. So I took some cough medicine. [Then I got an unexpected email sending me another day's worth of work that should really be turned in on Monday.] But an hour later I was STILL coughing so I had two puffs of albuterol.
And then, the albuterol and the cough medicine got together and threw a wild party. I could still work, (probably because I wasn't second-guessing myself every three minutes), but that was it. No walking (at least not in straight lines). No driving. Needless to say, Chris left five minutes ago to take Max to his group piano lesson.
Wheeeeeee. I sit still and yet I move. Unfortunately, after three hours, the cough is back. I don't dare take more albuterol lest I start levitating.
I woke up this mornin'
Crawled out of bed.
Coughin' and hackin',
But not quite yet dead.
I put on my clothes,
I think they were clean
I can't quite be sure,
who cares--they were jeans.
The baby was hungry,
(He told me so.)
He wanted cheese bread.
So I made some dough.
My big boy said "Mom,
we're out of dog food,"
so I scrambled the eggs
and fed them some, too-d.
I needed more words
to appear on the paper
but [needle-scrapes-across-record-sound]
I couldn't get anything done. So I grabbed the keys and went to the post office where the last of the Olympic Yarn I needed was waiting. (That was some seriously fast shipping from Angelika's Yarn Store--and it was very nicely packaged.) From there I went to the Woo-Woo health food store. I don't really like this place. No reason. It's just not a warm, welcoming place. It feels . . . stuck up, somehow. But they had herbal throat-calming tea and I wanted that.
Back home I made the tea, yum, but now my cough was more noticeable. So I took some cough medicine. [Then I got an unexpected email sending me another day's worth of work that should really be turned in on Monday.] But an hour later I was STILL coughing so I had two puffs of albuterol.
And then, the albuterol and the cough medicine got together and threw a wild party. I could still work, (probably because I wasn't second-guessing myself every three minutes), but that was it. No walking (at least not in straight lines). No driving. Needless to say, Chris left five minutes ago to take Max to his group piano lesson.
Wheeeeeee. I sit still and yet I move. Unfortunately, after three hours, the cough is back. I don't dare take more albuterol lest I start levitating.
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
:::Clears Throat::::
Dear Streptococcus,
Please consider this note a formal notice of eviction. We here at My Body are aware of your evil plans for domination. Although it's been 17 years since we removed the tonsils into which you had bought condo space, we still vividly recall your repeated attempts to take over My Body for as far back as we have clear memories. In fact, if these things were tracked, we're pretty sure we'd make the Guiness Book for the number of times you tried (and failed!) to take control.
While you may have won the battle against pennicilin, rendering it useless in My Body, we would like to assure you that we WILL win this battle. We have Health Insurance, and we're not afraid to use it.
You've chosen the wrong victim. One good flash light and we needed no stinkin' swab. We still remember what you look like, even in your infancy. :::shudder::: No, you can not go undetected. Choose some other Body (but not the kids, they're covered, too--don't even think about it) and be gone.
With great disdain, and swallowing proudly in spite of the pain,
Alaska
Please consider this note a formal notice of eviction. We here at My Body are aware of your evil plans for domination. Although it's been 17 years since we removed the tonsils into which you had bought condo space, we still vividly recall your repeated attempts to take over My Body for as far back as we have clear memories. In fact, if these things were tracked, we're pretty sure we'd make the Guiness Book for the number of times you tried (and failed!) to take control.
While you may have won the battle against pennicilin, rendering it useless in My Body, we would like to assure you that we WILL win this battle. We have Health Insurance, and we're not afraid to use it.
You've chosen the wrong victim. One good flash light and we needed no stinkin' swab. We still remember what you look like, even in your infancy. :::shudder::: No, you can not go undetected. Choose some other Body (but not the kids, they're covered, too--don't even think about it) and be gone.
With great disdain, and swallowing proudly in spite of the pain,
Alaska
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Well that rips that
Holy Cow. It was one of those days where I worked like a madwoman and got three pages done. This means I'll be up till . . . I get it all done I guess. Not looking good for my sleeve either. Well, I *really* want to watch women's figure skating, too. Maybe I'll get enough done between 7:00 pm and 8:00 pm that I can take a women's figure skating break and do some knitting then.
Sheesh.
Can I say something? Of course I can, it's my blog. Life is good today. It might be that post-horrific-cold high--that warm fuzzy feeling you get when your throat finally stops swelling long enough for you to swallow and you can keep your train of thought long enough to make it all the way to the end of your sentence. (A real plus when you're trying to write the sentences for pay.) But regardless of the cause, I'm happy today. March's mortgage is already paid, I got to play with Jill's new puppy (the puppy is cute), Max is kicking decimal butt, and even though the Olympic ticker is turning ominously orange . . . there's still hope.
Ben rocking out to Mercy Me:
Today's baking experiment:
We'll see. It's a 100% whole wheat crust, cherry jam filling using my aunt's homemade cherry jam, and juice from the cherry jam added to the glaze. I'm letting them cool completely and we'll eat them as snack tomorrow.
Sheesh.
Can I say something? Of course I can, it's my blog. Life is good today. It might be that post-horrific-cold high--that warm fuzzy feeling you get when your throat finally stops swelling long enough for you to swallow and you can keep your train of thought long enough to make it all the way to the end of your sentence. (A real plus when you're trying to write the sentences for pay.) But regardless of the cause, I'm happy today. March's mortgage is already paid, I got to play with Jill's new puppy (the puppy is cute), Max is kicking decimal butt, and even though the Olympic ticker is turning ominously orange . . . there's still hope.
Ben rocking out to Mercy Me:
Today's baking experiment:
We'll see. It's a 100% whole wheat crust, cherry jam filling using my aunt's homemade cherry jam, and juice from the cherry jam added to the glaze. I'm letting them cool completely and we'll eat them as snack tomorrow.
My Olympic Project
I'm just too lazy to take pictures this week. I have a hideous cold and I'm in survival mode. But I have been knitting. If you'll recall, my (revised and revised) Olympic goal was to make two size 6 sweaters for the twins using this rotten cotton I'd grown to despise.
I knit the front and back of the first sweater, then discovered that it was coming out way too small. It was knitting up like a size 4. Probably my gauge, but whatever. Ben *is* built like a barrell up top. So I switched to the placket-neck sweater in Last-Minute Knitted Gifts (which was a Last-Minute Christmas gift from a swap I was in) in part because it involves almost no sewing (there is some grafting in the armpit).
I really love the way this sweater is constructed so far, although I still have my doubts about the room in the shoulders for the boys.
A few days into this I learned that a friend of ours who I thought was having a baby at the end of March is delivering on February 28th, so that put me into full knitting-pink mode. I'm doing the Baby's First Luxuries set from Knitters Stash.
And I was swatching up the yellow machine-washable yarn anyway, so I cast on and started the first 12 rows of the bottom of the placket-sweater for baby Oliver who isn't due until June.
Yep, since I have SO much work to do right now, I started five sweaters simultaneously, and then got sick.
:::smacks head against wall::::
So, progress thus far:
1. Too small sweater--no progress. It has a front and back and 80% of a sleeve. It's tabled until after the Olympics.
2. First Placket-Neck Olympic sweater--85% done. It has the main body, two sleeves, and the first portion of the yoke done.
3. Second Placket-Neck Olympic sweater--not so much. It has the main body and the first two inches of the first sleeve done. I'm hoping to finish up that first sleeve today and do the second sleeve tomorrow.
4. Baby's First Luxuries in pink--the body of the sweater is done. It needs two sleeves and three rounds about the neck. Then it needs a pair of socks. Still seems totally doable by March 3rd (assuming Mom and baby stay in hospital for four days following c-section).
5. Oliver's yellow Placket-Neck Olympic sweater--no further progress and none expected until early April. But it is a pretty yellow.
Sounds good doesn't it? I could pull this off and have a few days to spare! There's only one itsy bitsy problem.
I have one skein of yarn left at this point. Yep. So I got online and found the dang yarn I've grown to dislike and ordered more of it. Thankfully, noone else likes knitting with it either (although blessedly, it feels GREAT knitted up--wonderful weight to it, perfect for the late winter and through the spring) so the price was significantly reduced.
I feel like the Spanish ski team when the Italians lost their luggage--including all of their skis--at the airport. For days.
Will the yarn arrive in time? I don't know. I probably have enough for the sleeves. If I have to, I can frog the sleeve of the two-small sweater in order to finish the Olympic project. I was trying to avoid that because the sweater was coming out nicely and it looked like one for the gift drawer. It's up to the USPS now.
I knit the front and back of the first sweater, then discovered that it was coming out way too small. It was knitting up like a size 4. Probably my gauge, but whatever. Ben *is* built like a barrell up top. So I switched to the placket-neck sweater in Last-Minute Knitted Gifts (which was a Last-Minute Christmas gift from a swap I was in) in part because it involves almost no sewing (there is some grafting in the armpit).
I really love the way this sweater is constructed so far, although I still have my doubts about the room in the shoulders for the boys.
A few days into this I learned that a friend of ours who I thought was having a baby at the end of March is delivering on February 28th, so that put me into full knitting-pink mode. I'm doing the Baby's First Luxuries set from Knitters Stash.
And I was swatching up the yellow machine-washable yarn anyway, so I cast on and started the first 12 rows of the bottom of the placket-sweater for baby Oliver who isn't due until June.
Yep, since I have SO much work to do right now, I started five sweaters simultaneously, and then got sick.
:::smacks head against wall::::
So, progress thus far:
1. Too small sweater--no progress. It has a front and back and 80% of a sleeve. It's tabled until after the Olympics.
2. First Placket-Neck Olympic sweater--85% done. It has the main body, two sleeves, and the first portion of the yoke done.
3. Second Placket-Neck Olympic sweater--not so much. It has the main body and the first two inches of the first sleeve done. I'm hoping to finish up that first sleeve today and do the second sleeve tomorrow.
4. Baby's First Luxuries in pink--the body of the sweater is done. It needs two sleeves and three rounds about the neck. Then it needs a pair of socks. Still seems totally doable by March 3rd (assuming Mom and baby stay in hospital for four days following c-section).
5. Oliver's yellow Placket-Neck Olympic sweater--no further progress and none expected until early April. But it is a pretty yellow.
Sounds good doesn't it? I could pull this off and have a few days to spare! There's only one itsy bitsy problem.
I have one skein of yarn left at this point. Yep. So I got online and found the dang yarn I've grown to dislike and ordered more of it. Thankfully, noone else likes knitting with it either (although blessedly, it feels GREAT knitted up--wonderful weight to it, perfect for the late winter and through the spring) so the price was significantly reduced.
I feel like the Spanish ski team when the Italians lost their luggage--including all of their skis--at the airport. For days.
Will the yarn arrive in time? I don't know. I probably have enough for the sleeves. If I have to, I can frog the sleeve of the two-small sweater in order to finish the Olympic project. I was trying to avoid that because the sweater was coming out nicely and it looked like one for the gift drawer. It's up to the USPS now.
Monday, February 20, 2006
Charlotte's Olympic Project
From Charlotte:
I am quite pleased with my progress, if not my product. There is a clearly demonstrated moebius half twist. I have 10 inches, and must go to 15 or 16, before I knit a totally baffling boarder on it, and then must block it. Should be doable. My dissatisfaction with the product is we all know the correct definition of lace is, "a PATTERN worked by hand in yarn or string fine enough to make a nun curse" Mine has no pattern- I am knitting froth. There is some small hope that the blocking will bring it out, but when it is a surprise when one ends the round with the pattern intact, one does not expect miracles.And Charlotte's cat, Tabby, saying, "Would someone tell her that turning on the heat is NOT a waste of our nation's valuable resources?"
Friday, February 17, 2006
Feeling Woozy
This is SO not what you want to see when you're two bodies and one sleeve into a project and you decide, you know, you'll just go check to make sure everything's cool with this project:
I checked my book. I have a first edition. I hope this doesn't dash my olympic hopes! Off to download.
UPDATE: Phew. No changes to what I have done so far :)
CHILD'S PLACKET-NECK PULLOVER (pg 72)
Please click on the link below the photograph of Last Minute Knitted Gifts (above, right margin of this page) to download the fully rewritten and revised pattern that will be available in the upcoming 4th edition of Last-Minute Knitted Gifts.
I checked my book. I have a first edition. I hope this doesn't dash my olympic hopes! Off to download.
UPDATE: Phew. No changes to what I have done so far :)
I have a headache
I would call it a migraine, but I don't get migraines.
I'm inclined to believe it has something to do with the bipolar weather we're having. Yesterday I took the kids and the big dog to the playground because it was 64 degrees and it seemed morally wrong to do anything else. Tomorrow the high will be 20 and they expect snow.
Today it was wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiindyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy all day long.
whhhhhhhhhhooooooooooooosssssssssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
It was very noisy.
I kept writing.
I started to feel a little better about the writing, but not my headache.
I took Max to piano and stopped off on the way to pick up 20 lbs of ground venison that a woman from church says she had to get rid of to make room in her freezer for girl scout cookies.
I just laughed so hard.
Needless to say we're having something with ground venison for dinner tonight though I'm not clear on what. I took my headache to bed for a nap two hours ago and I've only been up again for 15 minutes. I just reread last night's post and shook my head over its typos. Y'all must wonder at times how I stay employed at all in the writing industry.
Anyway, I'm mighty grateful to the girl scout that sold someone Sister X so many darn boxes of cookies. And to Sister X for coming up with such a great excuse to give it to me.
I made great progress on the first sleeve for the twins' sweaters but am starting to feel concerned that there isn't enough shoulder built into this pattern. I'm off to do a quick search for corrections.
I'm inclined to believe it has something to do with the bipolar weather we're having. Yesterday I took the kids and the big dog to the playground because it was 64 degrees and it seemed morally wrong to do anything else. Tomorrow the high will be 20 and they expect snow.
Today it was wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiindyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy all day long.
whhhhhhhhhhooooooooooooosssssssssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
It was very noisy.
I kept writing.
I started to feel a little better about the writing, but not my headache.
I took Max to piano and stopped off on the way to pick up 20 lbs of ground venison that a woman from church says she had to get rid of to make room in her freezer for girl scout cookies.
I just laughed so hard.
Needless to say we're having something with ground venison for dinner tonight though I'm not clear on what. I took my headache to bed for a nap two hours ago and I've only been up again for 15 minutes. I just reread last night's post and shook my head over its typos. Y'all must wonder at times how I stay employed at all in the writing industry.
Anyway, I'm mighty grateful to the girl scout that sold someone Sister X so many darn boxes of cookies. And to Sister X for coming up with such a great excuse to give it to me.
I made great progress on the first sleeve for the twins' sweaters but am starting to feel concerned that there isn't enough shoulder built into this pattern. I'm off to do a quick search for corrections.
Thursday, February 16, 2006
Tappity Tappity Tap
I worked today. I washed laundry and wrote some student edition text. I almost never do student edition text aimed at first graders. Fourth graders--sure. First graders? They give me the assignment, I say, "Um, that's not my strength" and they laugh their laugh because that Alaska, she can be self-depreciating, and then I turn in the student edition text and they . . . realize that sometimes a text-book writer knows her strengths and weaknesses after seven years. I write and edit first grade TEACHER'S EDITION.
But here I am, writing student edition text.
In this case, the person who might otherwise say, "Alrighty then! Here, do this instead," does not have the time at all, so she keeps very, very patiently trying to teach me the correct way to talk to a six year old. I am working at it. But even though I'm done with nearly an entire unit, I am loathe to send her the pages. I do not want her to read them. I want to write the accompanying teacher's edition text. It would make her happy. She *says* I'm being very helpful and she appreciates the help and all I can think is that she must be very. very. very. busy.
Well, thank goodness.
So that is what I did today. I bought some new children's poem books, hunted about for some children's literature books I need and wrote a lot of short little questions over and over and over.
Brilliant.
On the upside, I brought into the world today my very first cable-knit sweater. I love this yarn, I love this pattern--Oliver is definitely getting one, but not this one. This one is pink. I don't recall ever having knit ANYTHING pink before. It's pretty darn adorable. I'll take a picture later. Right now I'm waiting for Chris to bring caffeine. I need to write some more short little questions before I can go to bed tonight.
But here I am, writing student edition text.
In this case, the person who might otherwise say, "Alrighty then! Here, do this instead," does not have the time at all, so she keeps very, very patiently trying to teach me the correct way to talk to a six year old. I am working at it. But even though I'm done with nearly an entire unit, I am loathe to send her the pages. I do not want her to read them. I want to write the accompanying teacher's edition text. It would make her happy. She *says* I'm being very helpful and she appreciates the help and all I can think is that she must be very. very. very. busy.
Well, thank goodness.
So that is what I did today. I bought some new children's poem books, hunted about for some children's literature books I need and wrote a lot of short little questions over and over and over.
Brilliant.
On the upside, I brought into the world today my very first cable-knit sweater. I love this yarn, I love this pattern--Oliver is definitely getting one, but not this one. This one is pink. I don't recall ever having knit ANYTHING pink before. It's pretty darn adorable. I'll take a picture later. Right now I'm waiting for Chris to bring caffeine. I need to write some more short little questions before I can go to bed tonight.
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
More thoughts on knitting for babies
So, I went to the yarn store yesterday to try to hunt up one more skein of Nantucket 2nd Time cotton since the new size/design is sucking up yarn like nobody's business. I don't want to rip out the too-small sweater I knit. I was hoping to finish that up later and stick it in the gift drawer. But I might have to now, since the yarn store is out of it. And not likely to order more since they were as unimpressed with it as I am. So I asked the shop owner where they keep their washable wool since I wanted to swatch up some baby yarn while I pondered what to knit up for baby Oliver.
They offered me a skein of yarn over which I had some sincere doubts inspite of its genuinely nice yellow color. I grabbed another skein that was next to it of a nice merino which isn't remotely machine washable, but it feels wonderful.
I swatched last night. I cast on. I was unimpressed. It *looks* pretty enough and I'm sure it can take whatever Tide can dish out. I'll go ahead and finish the sweater because the pattern is the same as the two I'm making for my Olympics Project and I've already got it mostly memorized. But there's nothing wonderful about it at all.
So I wrote The Yarn Harlot requesting her opinion about the ethics of giving a baby prone to puking (and all babies are prone to puking) an outfit that must be either hand washed or dry cleaned--just how morally obligated am I to knit with a synthetic blend?
Her reply:
And I told her that was perfect thankyouverymuch. Even if I'm not entirely certain I'm capable of knitting a sweater worth this particular yarn, I intend to try. You only get one first nephew.
My Olypic project? It's coming along. I'm up to the arm pits on sweater number one and well past the belly button on sweater number two. But we're still four sleeves and two chest/shoulder/necklines away from success and I have a LOT of work to do. I side-tracked myself on various rabbit trails most of today. Some work related, some not.
Charlotte is past her initial crisis(es) and has promised photos as soon as she fixes some technical issues with her computer.
They offered me a skein of yarn over which I had some sincere doubts inspite of its genuinely nice yellow color. I grabbed another skein that was next to it of a nice merino which isn't remotely machine washable, but it feels wonderful.
I swatched last night. I cast on. I was unimpressed. It *looks* pretty enough and I'm sure it can take whatever Tide can dish out. I'll go ahead and finish the sweater because the pattern is the same as the two I'm making for my Olympics Project and I've already got it mostly memorized. But there's nothing wonderful about it at all.
So I wrote The Yarn Harlot requesting her opinion about the ethics of giving a baby prone to puking (and all babies are prone to puking) an outfit that must be either hand washed or dry cleaned--just how morally obligated am I to knit with a synthetic blend?
Her reply:
"Trash the crap. Knit an heirloom. Tell them that's what it is, and that it needs to be treated that way. I find that wrapping it carefully in tissue paper before I give it to someone helps convey that. Offer to wash it.
Very nice plastic sweaters are available at stores. You are an artist.
(How's that for a rationalization?)"
And I told her that was perfect thankyouverymuch. Even if I'm not entirely certain I'm capable of knitting a sweater worth this particular yarn, I intend to try. You only get one first nephew.
My Olypic project? It's coming along. I'm up to the arm pits on sweater number one and well past the belly button on sweater number two. But we're still four sleeves and two chest/shoulder/necklines away from success and I have a LOT of work to do. I side-tracked myself on various rabbit trails most of today. Some work related, some not.
Charlotte is past her initial crisis(es) and has promised photos as soon as she fixes some technical issues with her computer.
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
EPGY Post Script
Jove's comment below prompted me to begin a reply and then I decided to bring it out of comments and post if further up. For all of my joking around below, Max will be ten next year and while he doesn't have the final say (because he doesn't have a vote in the budget yet), I take very seriously his curriculum requests. He is a fairly easy-going child with regard to school (although I wouldn't go so far as to call him passive, no), mostly taking whatever I toss at him in stride. It's not common for him to make curriculum requests. Since the rest of his materials are very reasonably priced, and since work looks steady for the next year, and since EPGY *does* have a generous scholarship program in place, I have not said "no" at this point. I've said, "We'll see."
EPGY really is an extraordinary program. With the scholarship we had last time, it was worth its cost. Yet done consistently and with at least some small attention to detail, Saxon and the like are enough. There is no real *reason* to go beyond Saxon and its contemporaries (Singapore, Math-U-See--yes, each different in its own way, but each effective for most of the kids who would use it as it is written).
In the same way there is simply no real reason to go beyond knitting a nice stockinette pair of socks. Stockinette is wonderful! It's warm, it's fast, it's sturdy. But where Saxon is a sturdy stockinette and Singapore is seed stitch and Math-U-See is ribbing--EPGY is lace. Oh, yes. It is.
But I've done very little lace in 15+ years of knitting and don't feel I've suffered for it.
I adore math and like the voracious reader who secretly fears her children won't take passionately to reading, I have a huge emotional attachment to having my sons discover what is wonderful about math. EPGY weaves certain mathematical strands and more abstract concepts into the program years earlier than standard programs do. You don't need to get these early to fall in love with them later. I was a mediocre elementary math student. Again, there's nothing wrong with holding off and doing these things later. Except that there's nothing wrong with introducing them NOW if the child is fluent in math and open to learning them.
With a scholarship, the cost would be comparable to adding a second musical instrument. Max had talked of adding drums to his repetoire next year. IF I decide we can do one of those options, (there are so many other budget items that *must* come before a 2nd instrument/EPGY--like his speech therapy, the existing piano lessons, and his mother's commitment to getting us out of debt for good) THEN I may ask him to choose with the understanding that whichever option he chooses he must see out the year.
I could live with either. I'm not opposed to a second instrument if he loves it. And yet I don't really want more practice sessions to supervise. EPGY satisfies my desire to provide Max with math he could potentially fall passionately in love with. And, I'm still really okay with Saxon.
EPGY really is an extraordinary program. With the scholarship we had last time, it was worth its cost. Yet done consistently and with at least some small attention to detail, Saxon and the like are enough. There is no real *reason* to go beyond Saxon and its contemporaries (Singapore, Math-U-See--yes, each different in its own way, but each effective for most of the kids who would use it as it is written).
In the same way there is simply no real reason to go beyond knitting a nice stockinette pair of socks. Stockinette is wonderful! It's warm, it's fast, it's sturdy. But where Saxon is a sturdy stockinette and Singapore is seed stitch and Math-U-See is ribbing--EPGY is lace. Oh, yes. It is.
But I've done very little lace in 15+ years of knitting and don't feel I've suffered for it.
I adore math and like the voracious reader who secretly fears her children won't take passionately to reading, I have a huge emotional attachment to having my sons discover what is wonderful about math. EPGY weaves certain mathematical strands and more abstract concepts into the program years earlier than standard programs do. You don't need to get these early to fall in love with them later. I was a mediocre elementary math student. Again, there's nothing wrong with holding off and doing these things later. Except that there's nothing wrong with introducing them NOW if the child is fluent in math and open to learning them.
With a scholarship, the cost would be comparable to adding a second musical instrument. Max had talked of adding drums to his repetoire next year. IF I decide we can do one of those options, (there are so many other budget items that *must* come before a 2nd instrument/EPGY--like his speech therapy, the existing piano lessons, and his mother's commitment to getting us out of debt for good) THEN I may ask him to choose with the understanding that whichever option he chooses he must see out the year.
I could live with either. I'm not opposed to a second instrument if he loves it. And yet I don't really want more practice sessions to supervise. EPGY satisfies my desire to provide Max with math he could potentially fall passionately in love with. And, I'm still really okay with Saxon.
Sunday, February 12, 2006
He shall baptize you with the Holy Ghost and with fire
A year ago we had just entered into a contract on the house and were waiting for it to appraise. We'd made plane reservations for me to go to Pennsylvania for househunting at the end of the month. I was making Chris nuts insisting that he PACK MORE while he was dragging his feet for fear of jinxing the appraisal. I spent a lot of time at Realtor.com and trying to get it through the head of my realtor that he needed to give ME the WHOLE weekend I was coming out. (He still didn't catch on until the third day I was here, LOL.)
Not for all the money in the world would I go back to that. At the time we had adrenaline, we had hope, we had the flat-lining checkbook motivating us to Get Out of California. This morning as I was watching the kids play in the snow over on the public school grounds I was musing over all that we did between February 7 and the middle of May. We bought and sold a house, lived in Indiana for five weeks, did swim lessons for Max and the twins in the middle of all that, packed and unpacked, WORKED like a madwoman, got sicker than I can remember being in a decade while we were in Indiana, got Chris back into glasses for the first time in two decades, lost Jax the lizard to heat exposure, painted most of this house, did Max's standardized testing, etc. etc.
No wonder my mantra since has been "We are never, ever, ever, ever moving again." (That hasn't changed.)
Things have eased up since then. We'll do a more complete assessment in April, but for now, take my word for it--things are a LOT better.
Not for all the money in the world would I go back to that. At the time we had adrenaline, we had hope, we had the flat-lining checkbook motivating us to Get Out of California. This morning as I was watching the kids play in the snow over on the public school grounds I was musing over all that we did between February 7 and the middle of May. We bought and sold a house, lived in Indiana for five weeks, did swim lessons for Max and the twins in the middle of all that, packed and unpacked, WORKED like a madwoman, got sicker than I can remember being in a decade while we were in Indiana, got Chris back into glasses for the first time in two decades, lost Jax the lizard to heat exposure, painted most of this house, did Max's standardized testing, etc. etc.
No wonder my mantra since has been "We are never, ever, ever, ever moving again." (That hasn't changed.)
Things have eased up since then. We'll do a more complete assessment in April, but for now, take my word for it--things are a LOT better.
My gauge might be off
Sundays--ordinarily a day of church in this house--have been dominated by basketball since the second Sunday in January. There are two more games after today before the season is over. I didn't know at the time that I registered him for the sport that our ward was switching to afternoon session, although I might have figured it out if I'd thought about it. I guess I didn't think that the University Ward would *want* the 9:00 am time slot, but fair's fair and there it is. So we've been going to part of the three hours on any Sunday where the game is 3:00 pm or later and throwing in the towel on the Sundays where the game is at 2:00 pm. Most of the games are 3:00 pm or later. Today's was at 2:00 pm.
Now, I think I mentioned back in early January that basketball is another new sport for Max. He wound up on a team that has a LOT of experience. Most, though not all, of the other players have been in the game since they were 5. For the first two games he was blissfully ignorant and pretty involved in the game, albeit not with any precision. But around game 3, he began to hold back. The more he understood the game, the more he held back in the game, afraid to make any mistakes. By the last game I attended, game 5, it was clear to me that extreme measures were called for. Chris was playing with him, but after watching Max in practice--and even before the games during warm-ups, it was clear to me that the problem was all in his head. Even before the game today during warm-ups, Max was making baskets. Nice, clean baskets. But how to get him over that lump of fear that had him playing the game as well as he could while simultaneously keeping the greatest amount of distance between him and the ball?
Well. He's the son of two self-employed parents. We're not greedy. No. But we're highly motivated when paid well. So after watching him in practice on Friday I came up with the bright idea of offering NHL-style incentives. (I don't know if the NBA offers scoring bonuses, but the NHL does.) Mine were a little more reachable. Since it had been, to my knowledge, three games since Max had touched the ball even once in play, I offered one dollar each time he touched the ball --without fouling anyone.
I offered $2 if he knocked the ball, without fouling, out of the hands of another player. Finesse wasn't important. It could go skittering across the court and into the hands of another player on the other team. I just wanted him to achieve what he set out to do. Getting the ball away from that guy was the purpose of the swooshes he made vaguely at the ball without ever touching it. I wanted commitment.
I offered $5 if he got a rebound. It counted at either end of the court. In the second game he'd played someone else had gotten the rebound and passed it to him. Max had dribbled it down towards his basket and passed it off to someone else. If he got the rebound at the other end--after a basket was made, the other kids would automatically start running to the other end of the court. That would leave him to dribble the ball down. Besides, he'd never caught a rebound--it stood to reason that after a few times catching the rebound at the other team's basket--he'd go to the next level at some point and get the rebound at his own basket--and shoot it.
I offered $10 if he took a shot. It didn't have to go in. It just had to hit the backboard or the rim--it couldn't go sailing into outer space. I wanted him to aim before he threw.
It could have gone horribly. The other team scored first and this mega-talented team that Max is in faltered. They've always made the first few baskets. They've never won by less than 12 pts. But Max didn't notice. He was out to touch the ball. In the first five minutes he played he touched the ball twice--and knocked it out of the hands of the player trying to score (legally) once. Both coaches jumped a little in their seats and screamed his name happily. Max grew an inch. He looked at me with a "did you get that?" look and then jumped back into the game.
Between the genuine run for their money (ha! get it?) that the other team was giving our Blue team, and Max's complete commitment to the game, I could barely breathe. He never missed an opportunity to try for the rebound. He wanted that ball. He ran after it. I tried to knit when Max was on the bench, but there was so much going on! I'm pretty sure those few rows are a bit snugger than the ones before them.
By halftime our team was starting to recover confidence and they'd moved ahead by a few points. Max had five touches of the ball and one "get" (getting it out of the hands of the other guy). More importantly, he knew he could play the game. He understood, finally, that he didn't need to shoot a basket to make a difference in the score of the game. He never took his eyes off the ball. He wanted it.
And then, in the fourth quarter--he got it. He got the rebound and the other kids broke away and he dribbled it, a bit unsteadily, but gaining in confidence, towards the other end. He had the ball too far out in front of him and another kid came in and took the ball away, but that kid hadn't gone more than a few feet when one of the other kids on our team stole the ball back, passed it, passed again--until there was a score for the Blue team.
Max had been positioning himself correctly for the rebound through most of the game, but some light went on and he got the rebound two more times. The second time he passed the ball to someone else who took it down and made a basket. The third time Max dribbled it down himself and keeping the ball in closer, went most of the way before being swarmed by yellows and having to pass it off.
It was a wonderful, wonderful, game. The coaches were falling over themselves happy to see their reluctant player in the game. They coached--Max wasn't deaf with fear--and he responded.
Maybe I wasn't supposed to bribe him. Maybe I was supposed to let him have his own breakthrough. But it still looked like his breakthrough from where I was sitting. That looked like my kid grinning. He told me with a swagger that they'd won again for the umpteenth time. (I corrected this unsportsman-like behavior--and a teammate said, "well, specifically 6th time.") In the past he's always enjoyed the fact that they won--but there was little sense of ownership of the win. "Our team won," he'd say. This time it was, "We won."
As he gets older I'll have to warn him that it's always good to know when money is a big motivator. That the Advisary is good at using that against you to convince you to do something you shouldn't. But sometimes in order to be motivated by pride, by a sense of satisfaction, by the feeling of a job well done--you have to have a moment of pride, a moment of satisfaction, and the belief that you CAN do the job well.
"If I actually get the ball in the basket, do I get more than $10?"
"Yeah, you get $10 and the knowledge that you scored two points for your team in an actual game."
"Yeah . . . That'll feel amazing."
That's what I'm bettin' on.
Now, I think I mentioned back in early January that basketball is another new sport for Max. He wound up on a team that has a LOT of experience. Most, though not all, of the other players have been in the game since they were 5. For the first two games he was blissfully ignorant and pretty involved in the game, albeit not with any precision. But around game 3, he began to hold back. The more he understood the game, the more he held back in the game, afraid to make any mistakes. By the last game I attended, game 5, it was clear to me that extreme measures were called for. Chris was playing with him, but after watching Max in practice--and even before the games during warm-ups, it was clear to me that the problem was all in his head. Even before the game today during warm-ups, Max was making baskets. Nice, clean baskets. But how to get him over that lump of fear that had him playing the game as well as he could while simultaneously keeping the greatest amount of distance between him and the ball?
Well. He's the son of two self-employed parents. We're not greedy. No. But we're highly motivated when paid well. So after watching him in practice on Friday I came up with the bright idea of offering NHL-style incentives. (I don't know if the NBA offers scoring bonuses, but the NHL does.) Mine were a little more reachable. Since it had been, to my knowledge, three games since Max had touched the ball even once in play, I offered one dollar each time he touched the ball --without fouling anyone.
I offered $2 if he knocked the ball, without fouling, out of the hands of another player. Finesse wasn't important. It could go skittering across the court and into the hands of another player on the other team. I just wanted him to achieve what he set out to do. Getting the ball away from that guy was the purpose of the swooshes he made vaguely at the ball without ever touching it. I wanted commitment.
I offered $5 if he got a rebound. It counted at either end of the court. In the second game he'd played someone else had gotten the rebound and passed it to him. Max had dribbled it down towards his basket and passed it off to someone else. If he got the rebound at the other end--after a basket was made, the other kids would automatically start running to the other end of the court. That would leave him to dribble the ball down. Besides, he'd never caught a rebound--it stood to reason that after a few times catching the rebound at the other team's basket--he'd go to the next level at some point and get the rebound at his own basket--and shoot it.
I offered $10 if he took a shot. It didn't have to go in. It just had to hit the backboard or the rim--it couldn't go sailing into outer space. I wanted him to aim before he threw.
It could have gone horribly. The other team scored first and this mega-talented team that Max is in faltered. They've always made the first few baskets. They've never won by less than 12 pts. But Max didn't notice. He was out to touch the ball. In the first five minutes he played he touched the ball twice--and knocked it out of the hands of the player trying to score (legally) once. Both coaches jumped a little in their seats and screamed his name happily. Max grew an inch. He looked at me with a "did you get that?" look and then jumped back into the game.
Between the genuine run for their money (ha! get it?) that the other team was giving our Blue team, and Max's complete commitment to the game, I could barely breathe. He never missed an opportunity to try for the rebound. He wanted that ball. He ran after it. I tried to knit when Max was on the bench, but there was so much going on! I'm pretty sure those few rows are a bit snugger than the ones before them.
By halftime our team was starting to recover confidence and they'd moved ahead by a few points. Max had five touches of the ball and one "get" (getting it out of the hands of the other guy). More importantly, he knew he could play the game. He understood, finally, that he didn't need to shoot a basket to make a difference in the score of the game. He never took his eyes off the ball. He wanted it.
And then, in the fourth quarter--he got it. He got the rebound and the other kids broke away and he dribbled it, a bit unsteadily, but gaining in confidence, towards the other end. He had the ball too far out in front of him and another kid came in and took the ball away, but that kid hadn't gone more than a few feet when one of the other kids on our team stole the ball back, passed it, passed again--until there was a score for the Blue team.
Max had been positioning himself correctly for the rebound through most of the game, but some light went on and he got the rebound two more times. The second time he passed the ball to someone else who took it down and made a basket. The third time Max dribbled it down himself and keeping the ball in closer, went most of the way before being swarmed by yellows and having to pass it off.
It was a wonderful, wonderful, game. The coaches were falling over themselves happy to see their reluctant player in the game. They coached--Max wasn't deaf with fear--and he responded.
Maybe I wasn't supposed to bribe him. Maybe I was supposed to let him have his own breakthrough. But it still looked like his breakthrough from where I was sitting. That looked like my kid grinning. He told me with a swagger that they'd won again for the umpteenth time. (I corrected this unsportsman-like behavior--and a teammate said, "well, specifically 6th time.") In the past he's always enjoyed the fact that they won--but there was little sense of ownership of the win. "Our team won," he'd say. This time it was, "We won."
As he gets older I'll have to warn him that it's always good to know when money is a big motivator. That the Advisary is good at using that against you to convince you to do something you shouldn't. But sometimes in order to be motivated by pride, by a sense of satisfaction, by the feeling of a job well done--you have to have a moment of pride, a moment of satisfaction, and the belief that you CAN do the job well.
"If I actually get the ball in the basket, do I get more than $10?"
"Yeah, you get $10 and the knowledge that you scored two points for your team in an actual game."
"Yeah . . . That'll feel amazing."
That's what I'm bettin' on.
Saturday, February 11, 2006
And the jazillionth post of the day . . .
So my brother who is a smidge younger than me (distinct from the brother who is quite a bit younger than me) and his lovely wife are expecting baby Oliver in June. My baby sister (of which I only have the one, as girls mostly have to marry into this family) is getting married in July.
And I've done little more than knit, read, and blog today. So I've been thinking, of course, about what to do to celebrate these things. My sister is already getting something knitted from my aunt who is a much better knitter than I, so I'll have to be satisfied with a set of guest towels for her.
Now baby Oliver is his parents' first child, so they'll need a load of practical things like disposable diapers and a stroller and car seat and waterproof mattress covers. But since I'm knitting, I'm thinking of course that I should knit a little something, too.
So when I went blog hopping this evening checking out knitting blogs I'd never seen before, I ran across Two Pointy Sticks and saw this photo:
And my thought was (because they're tiny little sweaters and a simple design), "Gee, I could make one of those for each day of the week in a different color."
And that made me think of a pack of underwear I had back in the 70's with the days of the week on them. And I wondered how hard it would be to embroider a little day of the week, say, along the hem of each sweater.
And that made me think of this rhyme:
It could use some updating, which saves baby Oliver from having it embroidered on 7 little sweaters.
And I've done little more than knit, read, and blog today. So I've been thinking, of course, about what to do to celebrate these things. My sister is already getting something knitted from my aunt who is a much better knitter than I, so I'll have to be satisfied with a set of guest towels for her.
Now baby Oliver is his parents' first child, so they'll need a load of practical things like disposable diapers and a stroller and car seat and waterproof mattress covers. But since I'm knitting, I'm thinking of course that I should knit a little something, too.
So when I went blog hopping this evening checking out knitting blogs I'd never seen before, I ran across Two Pointy Sticks and saw this photo:
And my thought was (because they're tiny little sweaters and a simple design), "Gee, I could make one of those for each day of the week in a different color."
And that made me think of a pack of underwear I had back in the 70's with the days of the week on them. And I wondered how hard it would be to embroider a little day of the week, say, along the hem of each sweater.
And that made me think of this rhyme:
Monday's child is fair of face,
Tuesday's child is full of grace,
Wednesday's child is full of woe,
Thursday's child has far to go.
Friday's child is loving and giving,
Saturday's child works hard for a living,
And the child that is born on the Sabbath Day,
Is bonny and blithe and good and gay.
Tuesday's child is full of grace,
Wednesday's child is full of woe,
Thursday's child has far to go.
Friday's child is loving and giving,
Saturday's child works hard for a living,
And the child that is born on the Sabbath Day,
Is bonny and blithe and good and gay.
It could use some updating, which saves baby Oliver from having it embroidered on 7 little sweaters.
Disfluency
I don't know if you can see this without AOL, but it's meant to be a comedy clip in which a freshman journalism student masacres his attempt to cover the sports segment of a college newscast program.
Boom Goes the Dynamite
It's true that his sports coverage screams Olympic Level Geek, but it also screams something else.
It screams "I can't read." As I watched this young man, I "got" that I was supposed to find this funny, but I found it tragic. We might not have noticed the stupidity of "Boom Goes the Dynamite" (do I have to name names when it comes to stupid off-the-cuff remarks made by famous, sucessful newscasters?) if he'd only been able to pin together a few coherent sentences in a row. But his reading is marked by an inability to group words appropriately. He can't "chunk" more than three words at a time, and when he hits unfamiliar multi-syllabic words (three or more), he has to slow. way. down. to process them.
Mortified by his inability to keep up with the video on the screen, he fell completely silent at points. When the reading continued again, you can hear that he is having to "toss" all punctuation in order to keep up. The words make less and less sense--like when someone unfamiliar with e.e. cummings tries to read it aloud.
Now, it's possible that the kid can read fine, but his eyesight is awful, he normally wears glasses, and he thought that he should do the show without glasses. He could barely see the text which appeared to be behind or to the left of the camera.
Otherwise, it was a painfully long demonstration in the importance of having your children read aloud. Reading fluency isn't cosmetic. Expressive readers who know what to do when they come to punctuation, who know how to modulate their voice to effectively read the piece, demonstrate much, much higher rates of reading comprehension than children who don't. It was once believed that fluency follows comprehension but recent research in reading has demonstrated that at the very least fluency and comprehension work hand-in-hand. And for some readers--fluency begets comprehension.
Boom Goes the Dynamite
It's true that his sports coverage screams Olympic Level Geek, but it also screams something else.
It screams "I can't read." As I watched this young man, I "got" that I was supposed to find this funny, but I found it tragic. We might not have noticed the stupidity of "Boom Goes the Dynamite" (do I have to name names when it comes to stupid off-the-cuff remarks made by famous, sucessful newscasters?) if he'd only been able to pin together a few coherent sentences in a row. But his reading is marked by an inability to group words appropriately. He can't "chunk" more than three words at a time, and when he hits unfamiliar multi-syllabic words (three or more), he has to slow. way. down. to process them.
Mortified by his inability to keep up with the video on the screen, he fell completely silent at points. When the reading continued again, you can hear that he is having to "toss" all punctuation in order to keep up. The words make less and less sense--like when someone unfamiliar with e.e. cummings tries to read it aloud.
Now, it's possible that the kid can read fine, but his eyesight is awful, he normally wears glasses, and he thought that he should do the show without glasses. He could barely see the text which appeared to be behind or to the left of the camera.
Otherwise, it was a painfully long demonstration in the importance of having your children read aloud. Reading fluency isn't cosmetic. Expressive readers who know what to do when they come to punctuation, who know how to modulate their voice to effectively read the piece, demonstrate much, much higher rates of reading comprehension than children who don't. It was once believed that fluency follows comprehension but recent research in reading has demonstrated that at the very least fluency and comprehension work hand-in-hand. And for some readers--fluency begets comprehension.
Knitting Olympics in the News
Over at NPR
At Oregon Live
And I can see a link at MSNBC when I google it, but can't find the actual reference on the page.
_______________
I'm embarrased to keep posting today--what can I say? I've thrown myself into the idea of a REAL Saturday with gusto. So no, I'm not working. I only get up to feed the kids, answer the phone (maybe), and pee. I'm listening to podcasts. So far one Dave Ramsey and one Cast-On. I also finally went over to iTunes and downloaded song after delicious song using the gift card that my brother gave me for Christmas. I have to burn them all to CD and then upload them again to my computer in order to strip the stupid ipod-iness from them so that my ordinary old mp3 player can play them, but whatever. I got music good enough to make it worth the trouble. I've noticed recently that I'm WAY more focused on work while listening to music over headphones.
Otherwise, while checking the pattern at one point from this book
I noticed that the pattern I'm working from is in the 4 to 6 hr chapter. At first I felt some guilt. How had I inadvertantly picked the fastest knit sweater on the planet? I kept knitting, taking an hour to knit two inches, and realized that it was either an editorial error or that time ONLY applies to the first size mentioned in the size chart. I checked the size chart. Sure enough. This sweater comes in the following sizes:
0-6 months
6-12 months
1-2 years
2-4 years
4-6 years
6-8 years
8-10 years
My boys are barrel chested and they keep all their length in their abdomen. So they're size 5/6 in shirts right now and size 5T in pants. When I thought to MEASURE Ben before just picking a size and casting on, it was clear that our best fit is the 6-8 year size, although I expect it to be a smidge on the big size. Good, I'd like them to be able to wear them next year.
So. If I go by stitches knit, then the four inches of sweater I have done would probably be the entire front and back of that 0-6 month sweater. Note to self: next time I knit this pattern, make it for nephew-to-be.
Well, back to knitting and wandering the internet.
At Oregon Live
And I can see a link at MSNBC when I google it, but can't find the actual reference on the page.
_______________
I'm embarrased to keep posting today--what can I say? I've thrown myself into the idea of a REAL Saturday with gusto. So no, I'm not working. I only get up to feed the kids, answer the phone (maybe), and pee. I'm listening to podcasts. So far one Dave Ramsey and one Cast-On. I also finally went over to iTunes and downloaded song after delicious song using the gift card that my brother gave me for Christmas. I have to burn them all to CD and then upload them again to my computer in order to strip the stupid ipod-iness from them so that my ordinary old mp3 player can play them, but whatever. I got music good enough to make it worth the trouble. I've noticed recently that I'm WAY more focused on work while listening to music over headphones.
Otherwise, while checking the pattern at one point from this book
I noticed that the pattern I'm working from is in the 4 to 6 hr chapter. At first I felt some guilt. How had I inadvertantly picked the fastest knit sweater on the planet? I kept knitting, taking an hour to knit two inches, and realized that it was either an editorial error or that time ONLY applies to the first size mentioned in the size chart. I checked the size chart. Sure enough. This sweater comes in the following sizes:
0-6 months
6-12 months
1-2 years
2-4 years
4-6 years
6-8 years
8-10 years
My boys are barrel chested and they keep all their length in their abdomen. So they're size 5/6 in shirts right now and size 5T in pants. When I thought to MEASURE Ben before just picking a size and casting on, it was clear that our best fit is the 6-8 year size, although I expect it to be a smidge on the big size. Good, I'd like them to be able to wear them next year.
So. If I go by stitches knit, then the four inches of sweater I have done would probably be the entire front and back of that 0-6 month sweater. Note to self: next time I knit this pattern, make it for nephew-to-be.
Well, back to knitting and wandering the internet.
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