Speaking Out Against Injustice

I had to do a bunch of Chair of the PAC type things this morning. I sang Happy Birthday to the school secretary, I hung up a sign encouraging people to get involved in the playground construction, I posted the proposed agenda for the April meeting, I gave the school secretary the April meeting notices to go home in backpacks . . .

Max and the twinks were playing in the gym with the other early kids initially, but as I went to the back door where half the parents pick up their kids later in the day (so I have to post all my signs twice) I noticed him hanging out in the hall, in a small space between his locker and the door. He was looking downcast and--well, a mom knows when all is not well.

I asked him what was wrong and he said that another student (one he considers a friend usually) called him a Spaz, which he thinks means the same as Retard. His feelings were deeply hurt and he was deeply discouraged by the fact that since (student name) had come to the class, she'd introduced all kinds of new put downs to the class. Before said student arrived, this small group of sheltered Charter School and post-homeschool kids hadn't known you could hurt each other with names like "gay, retard, faggot," and a few other choice putdowns I can no longer recall in this moment. He said, "I didn't expect to hear words like this until maybe 8th grade or high school!"

Max's teacher is out. She's very sick and apparently anemic, too. But his assistant teacher was there--a man who I can't quite figure out. But I'm pretty sure that at some point in his life, he's been called some of those names, too. (Haven't we all?)

He was right around the corner, so I led Max to the classroom and I said simply, "Say again to Mr. W what you said to me." And Max did, pretty much word-for-word. I emphasized that he (Max) needed to let go of the WHO brought the words in the classroom. If many students were using the words, then the words now belonged to the voice of the classroom. We three talked about how we might speak to the classroom about how hurtful these words are, how small the class is, how long they'll be together until graduation. There's only one class till graduation. There's no shuffling and getting away from another student. The class needs to choose as a group to speak to each other in non-hurtful ways.

And I also gently let Max know that he was going to probably have to develop a slightly thicker skin. "But not too thick," I said to him, giving him a hug. "No," said Mr. W, "We don't want to change the sweet kid you fundamentally are."

So hopefully Mr. W will host that conversation with the kids. And hopefully their hearts will soften and they will hear the words that he says and know in their hearts that they CAN be kinder to each other and that their own happiness lies in choosing positive ways to talk to each other.

Pray for his class. They really are a sweet group with a couple of kids who just entered the Charter school scene this year and arrived a little . . . hardened. Pray that they will have this conversation and that it will bring them closer and that it will help them appreciate Max more--not cause him greater grief.

Where to Start?

It was General Conference weekend and so Saturday I worked and worked and worked and listened to the talks on my computer. I was supposed to take Ben and Milo to a classmates' birthday party but totally lost track of time. Omigosh, I felt so awful. We got there in time to give him his presents but the boys--all of them, really, were crushed. A friend from church took the twins back to her place so they could play with her daughter for a couple of hours. I went home and had dinner with Chris and Max, went to get the twins, and then came home and worked again until 2am.

That's how it is with this job. You work and work and work and work and then . . . wait 6 to 8 weeks to get paid and then weather ANOTHER work slowdown.

So. The resumes are out. I am slogging my way through my certification paperwork so I can at least sub. I have some good leads and a few people in my corner to help me this time around. I have loved having the flexibility of my job the last 9 years and I was/am good at it. But I think I've come to the point with it where it's not worth it and I just want something more. I'm happier doing Reader's Theater on Thursday afternoons for nothing--and that's with second graders. I'm not notoriously at my best with the 3rd grade and under crowd.

After talking to the wrong people at Penn State, I happened to mention to the Vice-Principal at the charter school that I was hoping to pick up an ESL certificate and she referred me to the local Ed office. I can do this as continuing ed! That makes like $9,000 less. For about $1,000 I finish the course work for it. And I can do a bunch of it online.

This past week for me was a blur of kids activities and canning beans and working and job hunting and I'm expecting more of the same for the upcoming week--except that the weather is supposed to be better, so I'm hoping to get some yard work done.

Today was a very nice watching General Conference at Gaye's house and then having burritos for dinner and then . . . and then it was bedtime. And that is all I get to write tonight for now it is bedtime already for me, too.

So Much to Update

Well, I thought I'd have time for a quick update here before we head off to Gaye's house to watch the Sunday morning of General Conference, but I really don't have time, so I'll have to do that when I get back. I'm sort of writing this to hold myself accountable.

Tuesday Evening Update

I'm up to my neck in workwork, so I'll just post that there are two families genuinely interested in the Blue Truck and both would give it a good home. So that's hopeful.

I jotted down this bit earlier today:

Paper Lantern
This tender shoot is bowed double,
both ends buried under the dirt
in which its seed is buried.
Tomorrow one end will have broken free
reaching for the light strung up just inches above it.

This isn’t real summer.
This is a false summer of heating mats
and grow lights and green house plastic
to hold in the humidity.

36 plugs of dirt and this is the first shoot,
the first glowing green rising
just 2 mm above the soil,
but under the lights I couldn’t miss it.

One glimpse and the whole summer stretches before me.
I can suddenly see heavily burdened tomato plants
and wild climbing beans, butterfly bushes,
squash plants run wild, watermelons creeping toward the house.

I feel bent double myself under the weight of a car payment
and work deadlines and a kitchen that never gets clean,
but I see that tender shoot and smile.
She will be free of the dirt and I will be free of the debt.
She’s a Paper Lantern--a 5 out of 5 on the hot pepper scale.
She may be bent double, vulnerable today,
but come September she’ll make one hot taco.

Because I Really Need It to Sell THIS WEEK

Dear Blue Truck,

I know you don't want to go, and I totally understand why. We made your life meaningful. You seat 8, and I could come up with 8 people to sit in you on a regular basis. You have a removable third-row of seating and I really appreciated how easy that was to remove. I never had any trouble finding things to fit in the back either. You drove all the kids and two dogs from CA to PA and the only ongoing quirk you developed was to insist you didn't have any oil pressure until after you'd warmed up in very cold weather. Your leather seats were easy to clean. Your VHS player--played vhs movies. You entertained my twins when noone else could. You were hard to park--but easy to drive because I could see around and over everything. You pulled trailers and hauled sleds and waited patiently between deep cleanings.

But hon, you're a Ford Expedition and my gas budget can't take it anymore. We bought you used, for a good price, but promptly moved to a part of the country with a much lower cost of living and we've been upside-down ever since. I've made payments on you for over three years and I just can't afford two more years of this, even though I'm pretty sure I've now paid all the interest on the loan. Your monthly payment stands between me and peace of mind. This month, your monthly payment and your brake repair bill stood between me and the mortgage payment.

I'm sorry. You have to go. I'm sure you'll find another family! You'll find someone with more kids--who can't fit in a Taurus no matter what they do. They'll need your leather seats and 23 cup holders just as much as we did. They'll love that their 8-yr-old Blues Clues tapes still play in your machine and entertain the triplets in the way back. They won't love the gas mileage, but just like we did for so long--they'll forgive you for meeting so many other needs.

So please. Keep it together. You've always been such a surprisingly dependable truck. Stand up straight. You're going to get a bath and vacuuming of your carpet. You'll be febreezed within an inch of your life. You'll look good, smell good--show them how great you really are, and try to get yourself sold before your registration is up in ten days. You'll love your new family and they'll love you; Buck up, Trucky Truck. Your future is still ahead of you, but it's not here.

In Like a Lion, Still Pretty Lion Like

I wanted to do a quick blog entry this evening, but I also want to get to bed pretty soon, so I'm keeping myself honest by blogging with the laptop on battery. It's not a new battery, so that should give me, oh, ten minutes maybe.

I don't have any new photos to add. I'd like to get Max's hair cut in the morning so that Chris can take a portrait of him in his orange sweater--so I can post that. We'll see.

This week was very slow for workwork. I finally picked up a project today that will keep me busy through next week, but in the meantime, I spent the week doing spring cleaning. The kind where you think you'll just put away the clean clothes and then the next thing you know you've reorganized your half of the closet and filled two trash bags for Goodwill. The twins' room is clean, the living room is clean, the kitchen--well, I've kept the kitchen in near constant use and half of it's remaining "free" space is now housing the green house and it's hotpepper seedlings--so it doesn't look much better than normal. But it has moments of looking better.

Last night the twins' kindergarten teacher called and asked if she could do a home visit. Since my house is rarely clean, I jumped at the chance to have her come when it wouldn't totally mortify me. I don't really get why the school pushes the teachers to do home visits. I know they do, and I know the teachers do them, but I don't get them. We didn't sit down and discuss anything. She came and the twins gave her a tour of their bedroom. (Which is pretty sparse. All their toys are downstairs. All their books are on the bookshelves in the living room.) Emily wanted desperately to lick her all over, but I wouldn't let her. The twins invited Kg Teacher out to the back yard to play on their swingset. So they went out there and talked and talked and talked. Emily and I got bored supervising, so I went and found a tennis ball for Emily and I hucked it for her and she brought it back until at last she collapsed happily in a heap of old leaves. Wonder how many fleas she picked up.

Then Kg Teacher said a happy goodbye and I brought the twins over to Gaye's house to color eggs. Too many cooks spoil the broth, even in a kitchen twice the size of mine, so I let Gaye oversee that and the three boys dyed eggs with G'ma while I attacked the WAY overgrown bushes along Gaye's back perimeter with a saw and pruning shears. Two bushes came down altogether. The other two were savagely pruned back. But I think they may look nice when they recover. I'll have to stick a fertilizer stick in the ground near them. And find out when brush collection is. The resulting twigs take up a lot more room than the original bushes ever did.

We get a snowstorm tonight bringing, oh, not a lot of snow. But enough to remind us that winter doesn't give up that easily here at 1,000 ft above sea level. I'm thinking about putting the winter boots in the attic this weekend anyway. Take that, snow.

I spent two hours at another Board of Trustees meeting for the school tonight and I wasn't disappointed. I enjoy them in a really geeky way and I will probably keep attending them occasionally next year when it's not even my job to do so anymore.

And that is the end of my battery.

For Now . . .

This is just a teaser until Chris can take a photo of Max IN the sweater.



Yarn: Cotton Fleece by Brown Sheep Company
Pattern: Orange Twist by Marie Grace with some modifications including cables from Viking Patterns to Knit
Size 40"

It's a good bit too big on the boy and he loves it that way. It looks pretty good on me, actually. Luckily, it's bright orange. So it's totally his.

Emily and Earl

Emily has a profound need to chase balls and squirrels. They are, apparently, her reason for living (other than loving us, of course). The very DOGNESS of standard poodles are, I swear, the best kept secret of the pure-bred dog world. Why do people breed poodles and labradors? It is soooo redundant--poodles already HAVE the warm, joyous, ohmigoshiloveyousoooooooooomuch personality of the lab and they're just a tiny bit smarter. I will never, ever have anything other than a standard poodle, ever again. (Unless poor Chris dies, in which case I will have a standard poodle AND some cats. Actually, if he dies, I'll probably get like three standard poodles and three cats and turn into one of those crazy old women who have cats and dogs and never go anywhere because they can't find their keys.)

Chris got Earl the Squirrel for Emily for Christmas. I don't know who makes it but it had dog club sticker on it (you know, the one that does all the papers for breed dogs. I'm blanking on the name right now). It is the most phenomenally resilient stuffed dog toy EVER. They should make houses out of this material. Emily has killed and attempted to gut Earl (because he rhymes with squirrel and because, you know the Dixie Chicks song . . . Earl had to die) a million times, and although he's gotten crusty, he's still in one piece. She likes to bring him to unsuspecting visitors so they can huck Earl for her. I was just uploading a photo of recently finished baby sweater and found this photo on the camera:



I laughed a mighty laugh and then hoarked it for the blog. [from the family glossary: HOARK: v. to swipe, often gleefully]

Here's that baby sweater: size 6-12 months if you're a big, jovial baby. Size 12-18 months if you're a petite little thing. This was knit for a big baby boy.



It is my favorite baby sweater pattern of all time. I have modified it a smidge because I have the pattern memorized, (not that that keeps me from making stupid mistakes. I did have to rip this back clear to the bottom of the neckline because I, apparently, can't count.)

I can't find my keys. I can't keep up with the housework (no, I mean, it's even worse than normal). I drove to New Jersey on my way to Washington D.C. I can't count my stitches for a baby sweater I've knit 5 or 7 or 9 times. I drive places and forget where I'm going on the way. At what point is it time to see a doctor? I've taken to counting the children every 10 minutes or so like I did when the twins were just starting to walk/run, just so I don't lose one in this pathetic excuse for brain activity!

Gardening, Knitting, and Patience

I knit pretty much anywhere and everywhere. I've knit through school board meetings and classes and seminars and road construction and wedding receptions and conference calls and many, many dinners out and parties and social events. I knit because it calms me down. I knit because it gives me something to do while I wait. I knit because I enjoy it and the good feelings of the knitting fit the good feelings of the social event. I knit because the baby I'm knitting for is having a growth spurt AS I KNIT. I knit for lots of reasons. But I don't knit because I AM a patient person. I knit in spite of being an impatient person.

Today Gaye and I went to Lowe's and bought a few potting and seeding supplies for me so I can start my hot pepper plants. I have written on my gardening calendar for today "start pepper seedlings." Technically, this means both sweet peppers and hot peppers, but I don't get as excited about the sweet peppers. I should, given the grocery store prices, but I didn't have as successful a year with them last year, so I'm still kind of hesitant to get too excited about them.

Anyway, we also got the lumber and screws we needed to start putting together the raised beds we're starting in Gaye's back yard this spring. She gets two veggie gardens and a BIG bird and butterfly garden for her backyard. Her yard is huge and open and sunny and right now is nothing but grass. So we're adding some things to it. She doesn't much care as long as we can make the front yard look green and lush and have lots of pretty things growing there. So my job is to make the front yard look that way and then in exchange, I get to plant corn for Chris and melons for Max and strawberries for Max, and flowers for the butterflies, and tomatoes and hot peppers and probably everything else for me.

We got back to her place and I started assembling boxes. This went quickly and smoothly until the battery in the drill died. We tried charging it for awhile while we took a break, but it didn't charge fast enough and the last box will have to be done Monday afternoon.

So I took the twinks home (Chris and Max had gone to a movie) and they played outside, because they could, while I installed new locks in the front door and main bathroom (long story: short version--they needed them). Then I started gathering items for starting the seeds and realized I was missing one key ingredient: the seeds.

I'd ordered them about ten days ago, but they haven't arrived yet. I went through my old seeds and found a couple packages from last summer that might still be viable this year, but mostly I'm just going to have to wait.

So I'm back to knitting tonight.

I will say this. Every spring I am impatient for more spring. Every spring I start the seeds too soon. This year I have tried very hard not to. Last year I started them on March 2. This year it looks like I'll be running about three weeks later on the peppers and hopefully another week after that before I start tomatoes. And I think that'll end up timing things just about right.

I'm off to finish a baby sweater so I can give it to the Mom at church tomorrow. That'll hopefully make up for the things that were started today but not finished.

Mini-Vacation

On Tuesday I packed up the Mom-in-law, the twinks, the big kid, some overnight clothes, and a bunch of maps and headed south for Washington D.C.

On four hours of sleep.

Which is probably a large part of why it was that it took us 6 hours to get there.

On account of that detour I took through New Jersey.

New Jersey is NOT on the way to Washington D.C. if you start in State College, PA, but I went there first anyway.

Here is a photo of the twins in their Christmas shirts to distract you from how incredibly stupid that detour was:



We got there and checked into a Best Western by the Beltway and even though it was past it's glory days--it was really a pretty nice hotel. It was CLEAN, it smelled good, the service was good, it had a free continental breakfast, and it was incredibly inexpensive for the area. Lanham, Maryland. There. Now you know where to stay the next time you want to bring your kids to Washington D.C. but can't afford $280 per night or more.

Anyway, we ate, we returned to the hotel, two hours and much giggling later, everyone but me finally fell asleep. I worked. Finished around 1am.

We got up at 7:30 am, took turns taking a shower, ate at the continental breakfast (the twins made fast friends with "Ms. Jo" which is short for Josephine. We learned a lot about Josephine and she learned a lot about us.), and the drove into D.C. We parked at an underground parking garage a block from the place where we were renting an electric scooter for Gaye. The all-day rate was $2 less than me buying metro tickets for us all. And the drive into D.C. wasn't bad at all, honestly. (Although I should have bought gas earlier in the trip. S'okay. Worked out fine.)

We found the scooter place, decided the scooter was pretty cool. Walked and scooted from there the block to the Museum of Natural History.

We saw natural things.





Stuffed, formerly natural things.



and lots of gift shops.

We were there for hours, then ate in the museum cafeteria downstairs, which was far more expensive than . . . well, anything else we did in the whole trip. Don't ask.

From there we walked and scooted over to the air & space museum, but we hit the sculpture garden on the way (not my photo)



and waved at the Merry-Go-Round at the Smithsonian from a distance with a promise to visit it soon. (Photo not mine. I borrowed it from Christopher George at http://christophertgeorge.blogspot.com/2007/03/grab-brass-ring.html. It is his photo and after a few days of linking here so that my loyal readers get a feel for what we saw, I'll unlink because . . . I'm not sure I should even be showing the photo here without permission.) Honestly, we didn't even get close enough to the Merry-go-round to see it this well.



Okay, so we hit the Air & Space Museum and discovered . . . that we were just plain exhausted. So we saw a funny old black and white short and we looked at the exhibit of the planets, and we visited the highlights of the Museum of American History--which are temporarily in the corner of the Air & Space Museum. I took many photos of Mr. Roger's sweater:



Because I hope to knit one like that for all the boys (big and small) some day.

And then we agreed that the Smithsonian is more than our merry band can do in one trip and we'll have to go back soon:



And we drove home, this time, skipping New Jersey and Delaware. It went much faster that way.

We still took longer than we should have.



20 minutes from home we sat for an hour while police cleared the hull of a burnt-out truck. (We don't think anyone was hurt.)

And then, happily, we were back home.

Can't wait to do it again . . . without the New Jersey part.

But why?

I am a Lily What Flower Are You?

Closing Doors

Not very long ago I stumbled across this New York Times article about how painful it is for human beings to intentionally "close a door." The study detailed in the article uses virtual doors to stand in for metaphorical doors, but this topic is near and dear to me. Understanding the advantage of intentionally closing some doors was behind my encouraging Chris to leave Honda. It is there when I close paid-off lines of credit. It is upper-most in my mind as I try to decide how I want to earn income for the next decade.

In the article, they briefly touch on how difficult it is to close doors on behalf of our children, too--leaving them over-scheduled.

The timing couldn't be better, as the summer is coming and if we're going to do swim team with the kids, I need to figure out how to cram more swim lessons back into Ben and Milo's schedule so they can make it all the way across the pool this year.

But I am loathe to cram anything else into their schedules. I can't tell you how much I would like for the boys to have . . . summer. They will be 6 and a half this summer. We have a big backyard. Grandma has a big backyard. There is an even mile between us with exactly one bad intersection.

What if we didn't join the swim team? What if we just got a family pass to the pool for the summer and made it a goal to go four times a week for exercise?

What if we went down to the creek they are so enchanted with and looked for a safe place to access it, set up the rules, and let them play?

We'll still have piano practice. Max is doing two weeks of summer "camp." We're going cabin camping with one set of grandparents and possibly some of my siblings. I'll have work to do. I hope to work with the twins on their writing. I hope Max reads a lot. And they will, because I don't mind it in moderation, play lots on the Wii and Game Cube.

They can ride bikes at the school at the end of the block. I'll need their help weeding and watering gardens. They can do butterfly inventories (Gramma Gaye and I bought a mix of butterfly and hummingbird flower seed) and have their friends over for playdates.

How bad would it be if the only place we HAD to be for most of June, July, and August was church and the occasional piano lesson?

I write it out like this and the answer seems obvious. It wouldn't be bad at all. Let the door close. Let the swim lesson sign-ups pass.

++++++++++++

I'm having an odd week, mostly because the schedule for pretty much everything I do was different this week and there were just weird blips. OTOH, I've had a lot of fun with Gaye this week, who has pretty much kept me sane. I just drive her places. We hit a garden nursery yesterday and walked away with some new plants for me and some big plans for her yard. Today at the Waffle Shop we planned out where her new raised-bed gardens will go, where the Chris Hults Corn Garden will go, and what to do with the slope in her backyard that could be pretty and not need mowing if we act son.

I posted some of our questions to the Organic Gardening forum and am awaiting answers.

It's about time for me to head over to the school for the usual Thursday afternoon volunteering. Then we're using the kids' book-reading pizza coupons for dinner and calling it a day.

POW! It's Been a Week

And what a week it's been.

I got slammed with work. And while I was having to cancel things left and right, there were things I just didn't feel I could and so I did all those things, too. (One was the teacher appreciation breakfast at the school this morning for which the boys and I got up at 6am. But as ready as they all were to go to bed early, they--especially Max--really had fun helping.)

I'm still slammed, but I have to stop and sleep tonight before getting up and starting all over again. It's snowing like the dickens. Max got on the phone and found a friend to go skiing with tomorrow afternoon. This made me happy. Tomorrow afternoon is my last lace knitting class. Mental note: no more doubling up on knitting classes. One knitting class in a month is fun. Two is a job and it doesn't pay nearly enough.

A lot happened this week. We found a treasurer for the PAC. I had a ton of fun reading poems with the second graders. I had the last session of the "Wellness" experiment I've been participating in at Penn State (I know, I haven't blogged about that at all. Ask me later. It was food for thought. Literally.) I got terribly behind in dishes and further behind in laundry. If the propane people don't show up this coming Wednesday I'll have been without a way to dry my clothes for over two weeks. They keep skipping me and saying, "oops." I'd just have them come get my tank and get a new company--but I don't want to pay the horrific deposit on a new tank.

And it's snowing again. So beautiful. I hope it's the snow that comes right before the big warm up and the crocuses.

More Ski Mom

Today the Powers that Be declared it a snow day. I worked through the morning, then tossed the kids into the car and headed over to the ski place so the kids could have some fun in the freshly fallen snow. In the short ski season that is Central PA, the kids can now use their school ski passes any day of the way--they just can't have a lesson unless it's actually 4 or 5 pm. Well, we were having the missionaries over for dinner, which meant the later hours weren't going to work for skiing . . . and since on Monday the boys had managed to successfully get on and off the ski lift without any bodily harm (just once, but once counts) . . . I figured, what the heck, we'll try it without the lesson. Just Ben, Milo, a biiiiiigggg gentle ski slope, and a death trap of a ski lift. No problem.

And it wasn't. Ben DID scare ten years off my life the first time up the ski lift. I won't go into details just in case child protective services reads the blog, but I was right there on the ground under the chair and I yelled, "Stop! Stop! Ben, don't worry about it. Just sit back in the chair and hold still!" And God bless the little bugger, he did. So it was good. And NEXT time he went up, the guy at the bottom who helps the little guys get on the ski chair DID REMEMBER to help Ben put the safety bar down first. God bless HIM, too.

But after that he was great on the ski lift and so was Milo and since it wasn't in the budget for me to get a lift ticket and rental, too, I walked UP and DOWN and UP and DOWN and UP and DOWN the side of the hill, mostly just coaching whomever was in the down position on how to move their skis around perpendicular to the hill to get up on their own. And then . . . I didn't have to do that anymore either. So I stood at the top of the hill and believed them when they sailed by saying, "Just one more time!" until it became clear that they were maybe NEVER going to run out of steam. They HAD it and skiing had THEM and they were happy little masters of Little Bear and Little Bear chair lift. I tried to get video, but I don't think you can really seen anything. The weather wasn't perfect. It kept sleeting for brief periods of time. The twins have goggles, thanks to Gramma Gaye, so the weather didn't phase them at all. I was getting pretty cold though.

Eventually I did have to pull them off the hill. They'd been skiing for about two hours straight. They would have kept going, I think, until they collapsed into little kindergartner heaps. But I was freezing, so we turned in their skis and they gleefully reported their success to Jon-the-ski-rental-guy (who always tells them they're "the coolest twins on skis," which makes him real popular with the twinks).

Meanwhile, Max and Brian came sniffing around for lunch, and I had a bunch of meal tickets to use up, so we all ate lunch (okay, the kids all INHALED lunch. I ate.) and then packed up and went home. We didn't get a full three hours of skiing this time (normally we do, but we didn't get there till 12:10 and the lift tickets were only good 12:00 to 3:00 and it probably took us a good 15 minutes to get out on the snow, so by the time we were done with lunch, we were done).

Max's last Saturday ski school is tomorrow and then I don't know if we'll make it back out on the hill one more time before all the snow is gone or not. Max has a season pass and we'll try to get out more than once before all the snow is gone, but the twins have to wait until I get paid and I can't say today exactly when that will be. I do hope to get them one more good afternoon on skis, though.

It's been a good little ski season for us this year. Totally worth it.

Knit Blogging

A few updates.

Remember this problem?



The sweater knit up far too wide for Milo. I recently got it out and started to make repairs to it. I trimmed off the bottom and knit up, adding additional length so it would be proportional to the width. When I was all done, I realized it was going to fix Max perfectly.

This is a problem because a) I already have a sweater in the works for Max and b) I don't have enough of the red yarn to finish another sweater for Max. The sweater was supposed to be for Milo. So I did the only thing I could do. I ripped out the entire sweater and started over.

But I've been having so much fun with the viking cables on Max's sweater that I decided to do Viking cables for Milo's sweater.

So here is Max's Twisted Orange Twist so far:



And here is Milo's Prince Harald in Red:



I only started Milo's sweater this weekend, so that's just one time through the chart and I'm going to go twice before switching to stockinette until I get to the yoke. I'm planning a shawl collar which doesn't sound too terribly manly, but I actually got the idea from a Rowan man's sweater, before seeing it again in a women's sweater in the Viking book. My version will look more like the Rowan sweater. Anyway, I'm thrilled with the Harald cable pattern and I'm thrilled with how Max's sweater is turning out, and so when I'm not working, I'm knitting on one or the other. I'm 1/3 of the way through the first sleeve in Max's sweater and hopeful of finishing the sweater while there is still some winter and cool spring left to wear it in. The sweater fits him PERFECTLY right now, which is to say, it's too big and there's plenty of growing room--I don't think he can outgrow it until 9th grade, which IMHO, is just about right. (Okay, I may be a little in denial about how much he's going to grow over the next few years, but it should DEFINITELY fit for another year, maybe two.)

Milo's sweater is more fitted, so I keep reminding myself to be generous in length and to decrease in moderation when I get to the stockinette section so he can get three seasons out of it. It's in a cotton blend.

I know someone is going to ask, so I'll say it now--Nope, I don't have anything on the needles for Ben right now. All in good time. It's more important to me to finish these so they can actually wear them before I go casting on a new sweater. I'm learning . . . it's all well and good to take a year to knit a shawl. Sweaters for boys must be finished up while they're still the same size as the sweater.

Ha ha

Today while waiting for his ski instructor, Ben thought it hilarious to practice skiing deliberately into the Ski Lessons sign.

Well, it WAS funny :)

So I took a picture.



This is my second to last week of criminally insane over-activity. The first week of March I get 10 hours back in my week and the following week is Spring Break. I'll still have to work, but at least we'll get a 1-week break from school activities. On the one hand, I'm grateful for the hectic schedule. It's a good way to keep my mind off February, which never feels all that great to me. On the other hand, well, no, it really changes nothing. I can't wait for March.

Ski Mom

It's Saturday morning and that means I'm happily camped out at a table in the ski lodge. It's 10:45 and the music being piped in overhead is from the late 70's, early 80's. It's a little too loud but it's been a long time since I've heard "Life's Been Good to Me" and the longer the music plays, the less I hate it. (For the first half hour I was here, there was no music and the place so so peaceful and quiet . . . .)

I don't get to do much here. I can maybe get a little work done because I have my laptop and my work with me, but the noise is distracting and in spite of good intentions, I only occasionally get much work done.

OTOH, what I do get to do is know that if Max is not here at the table, then he's out there having fun and skiing down the hills. Today we have the best snow fall we've seen this winter. It's beautiful, and as long as you're dressed properly and wearing goggles, it's a lot of fun to ski in. It's supposed to keep snowing on and off all weekend and starting tomorrow the lodge will start making new snow on all the slopes. In short, the forecast is great for my three little skiers on Monday.

For most of this month, I have to leave a little early to go home and change into my knitting-teacher hat. (In this case, I mostly just need to trade cars with Chris because he needs to Taurus to go pick up Max with the twins.) I mentioned this to Max on the way home and he frowned, saying he much preferred things when he knew I was in the lodge the whole time.

I can understand that. If you're out there taking risks for four hours straight, trying all the new stuff your instructor is asking you to do, it's helpful to know that if you really get sick of this, or need a break, or worse--break something, that your Mom is right there in the lodge. And I admit that I like being here to do just that. I can't really see him skiing from here --the best view from the lodge is actually of the learning slopes, and this class doesn't spend any time there.

But I like sitting at the table waiting to hear about how it all went. Drinking a cup of hot chocolate (we've learned to bring food from home whenever possible. The food served in the lodge is both expensive and horrible with the exception, maybe, of some cookies. So I bring two mugs and some packages of hot chocolate and two lunch boxes with hot-food thermoses, some fruit, and some yogurt.) Iming with Chris who is in his garage at home painting plastic car bodies and keeping an ear open for the twinkies.

Speaking of which, some of Max's class is coming in from the slopes now, so I'm going to wrap this up and wait for the update on what he learned so far. It's lunch time and they'll all head back out soon.

We Don't Get to Vote Today

Here in PA, we don't hold primaries until April, so I didn't vote today.

Mostly I whined--about my throat, not about not voting. I came down with a cold Sunday evening and although it's not the most vicious cold I've ever had, the timing is horrible. The kids' school wanted help finding volunteers for the Chinese New Year Celebration on Thursday and the Health Screenings on Friday. Gaye and I have business of hers to take care of tomorrow. I need to write two lessons for one client and take care of a conference call with another.

It's just one of those weeks.

On the upside, skiing went fine yesterday. Ack. We interupt this blog to go lay down or I might throw up. I hate being sick!

Tonight I went out in the slush and the ice and the rain

to put Senator Clinton on the ballot in Pennsylvania. Chris was worried that our neighbors would think I was a looney and judge us, but even though it was 8pm when I started (Chris got home late for dinner and I didn't want to take the twinks out in that weather), everyone was super friendly. The Republicans all got a grin on their face when they said, "Nope," they couldn't sign. The Democrats were all happy I'd come by so they could.

I really think most people WANT to participate in the process, frankly.

We quit when Max slipped on someone's porch. (I asked him to come with me because I'm 39 and I'm still afraid of the dark and our street is underilluminated. He peppered me with questions about the electoral process the whole time and it made the time fly by.) That was the sign that it was time to be done (and it was 8:30--I needed to get out there and get signatures because the deadline is Friday and I still need to mail these to Philly, and I need 50 signatures before I can mail them and this whole week is insanely scheduled, as was last week--but then, I only got my paperwork on Monday. Anyway, having canvased for 30 minutes, that got me over my own fears of going door-to-door, and now I'm ready to go after the remaining signatures before time runs out.)

Tomorrow I have to take Max to his skiing class, and then run and teach a lace knitting class for three hours, but then I'm going to take the twinks and go do two streets over in one of the new developments. Then I'll go around after school hours on Monday--and hopefully have my 50 signatures. (At most homes around here, where there is one democrat, there are two.)

(And Max is fine, don't worry

Making Plans

I really like New Year's Resolutions. I admit this year I didn't really get around to making them in time to start anything on January 1st, I'm glad it just didn't work out that way. As shiny new as the first day of the year always feels to me (which for me carries the accompanying motivation to take a stab at change), this year I just felt like I . . . didn't have enough information.

So here we are three-ish weeks later and one of my work projects has ended so I have a lighter week ahead of me. I'm looking forward to finally putting away my Christmas tree. (What?) And getting caught up on the dishes.

Anyway, here are the things I'd like to do this year:

*get better at reading the scriptures regularly
*hold Family Home Evening regularly. Heck, I'd be happy with once a month as improvement over last year, but I'm in the middle of taking a stab at reworking our family schedule and I'm open to whatever will work.
*lose weight. again. I'm growing more convinced this will require a medication change. again. Scheduled to discuss the issue with my doc on Valentine's Day. (I didn't get to pick the day.)

On a more minor level:
*Decrease the number of WIPs I have going. This feels kind of hopeless. But sometimes I think

I gave up my community garden plot after Gaye said I could have space in her backyard. This is a big relief as I really love my vegetable gardening, but I really need to pay attention this summer to the lawns and flower beds of her house and mine and the chances of my getting across town to the community gardens as well . . . even I had to admit that the odds were not good.

Giving up gardening altogether though--forget it. Max and I have already received two seed catalogs in the mail. He's picking out melons and strawberries. In fact, I keep meaning to get the catalogs over to Gaye's house so she can dream about her flower beds, too. She already has one bed that will look positively lovely once it gets properly watered and has a new layer of mulch. It's crying out for others to go with it. She's very interested in a tall, decorative grass for the front yard, so that will have to fit into the equation somewhere, too.