Yes I'll Be Here When The Morning Comes...

I'll be right here, I ain't gonna run…
I just moved in my new house today.
Moving was hard but I got squared away.
When bells starting ringing and chains rattled loud,
I knew I'd moved in a haunted house.

Trick or treat! Remember those words? I remember waiting anxiously for the time we could go out and get candy. We’d dress up, nothing elaborate. It might just be face painting, funny clothes or a mask. Halloween. It was a day you got to pretend to be something or someone else. The elementary school a few blocks away, the one that my sister and brother and I all attended, all six years, would host a carnival each year. Back then we didn’t have to call it a fall festival, we called it what it was; a Halloween carnival. There were cakewalks, ball games, floating ducks, candy apples and prizes. It was a fun time for the whole family.

http://sweetsugarbelle.blogspot.com/

Halloween to me was just another day except you had permission to ask anyone for candy. It had to be good if that was the case, right? But sometime from then to now the emphasis shifted. Instead of just a fun day it was considered evil and a pagan holiday. So the Halloween carnivals continued but we have to call them Fall Festivals now. There are cakewalks, ball games, floating ducks, candy apples and prizes. It’s still a fun time for the whole family. Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not knocking anyone for their opinion of Halloween. It really doesn’t matter to me what you call your Halloween or if you even acknowledge the holiday. It’s a personal preference and if I don’t like your choice I’ll change the channel, just as I’d want you to do should you disagree with my choice.

Lion Brand pattern.

Trick or treat in the small town I live in is different. At least when I first moved here years ago I thought it was different. It doesn’t matter when Halloween is. Trick or treat is the Saturday before. The fire siren rings at 4:30 and again at 6:00. When it rings the first time trick or treat has officially started. When it blows the second time it’s over. The ‘fall festival’ starts at 7:00 or so and at 10:00, when it ends, Halloween is over, even if it hasn’t come yet. After experiencing it for so long, I now think it’s not a bad idea at all. The kids are safe, it’s done and life goes on.

When you get too big to trick or treat or too old to dress up you don’t have much to do on Halloween. Since that’s the case, this Halloween we went out of town. Nobody has ever trick or treated at our house because we live in the country so no child was cheated out of a treat by us leaving town. We decided to spend Halloween Eve watching old horror movies. There were some classics, “The Fly”, the original from 1958, “Frankenstein's Daughter”, and “Return of the Fly”, as well as some that we’d never seen, “Strait- Jacket”, and “The Old Dark House”. Watching these movies now is funnier than it is scary. These aren’t the jump in your face Freddy movies, but just old, circa 1960’s, bizarre movies.

What I found entertaining, or weird, about two movies in particular, is that they both contained knitting. “The Old Dark House” and “Strait-Jacket” both had women knitting. “The Old Dark House” was kind of like clue. It had a very young Tom Posten in it. (He was the gardener on Newhart at the Vermont Inn). Anyway, the movie was one of those where there were a lot of eccentric people in an old, eerie, probably haunted house who were dying one by one and you had to figure out who the killer was. It reminded me of a version of “Clue”.

The mother in the show was named Agatha. Agatha always had her knitting with her. She said knitting is relaxing and knitting is her life. When asked what she was making and she said she just knits from the beginning to the end and it's bound to turn into something! She said she knit 150 miles last year and had a goal of 200 this year! She was never without her knitting. Of course, because this was a horror movie and everyone was murdered she was murdered as well. She was actually the first to go. They found her, knitting needles stuck through her neck, like a skull and crossbones, wrapped in her knitting and smiling. Morbid, yes, but because of her goofy expression we laughed.

The second movie with knitting was “Strait-Jacket”. Joan Crawford (creepy in her own rite), played a crazy lady, (Lucy), who chopped up her husband and his mistress, spent 20 years in an asylum and was reformed and released. She was out to live her life, but there was a crazy in the midst. Copycat axe murders were occurring and Lucy was the prime suspect. In one scene, where she was particularly frazzled, she held up her knitting. She said it was relaxing and she liked knitting. She said, “Remember, they taught me that in therapy.”

Another interesting thing? Both movies had the same director, William Castle. I think I'll look to see what other weird movies he directed...and if they have knitting.

I hope your Halloween was fun. Ours was. We watched the movies, laughed, and I knitted. It was relaxing and productive. And it wasn’t nearly as fattening as candy!

http://rebeccadanger.typepad.com/

Still I made up my mind to stay.
Nothing was a-gonna drive me away.
When I seen something that give me the creeps…
Had one big eye and two big feet.

Knityear is going strong. I hate when I get behind, though, because of travel for work. But at least I catch up and keep on knitting I guess. Day 211, October 28, is my parent’s anniversary, 54 years. Wow that’s a long time! I’m driving back from Presidio, late, and don’t have signal so again, I’m the bad daughter and don’t call. Oh well. The work I did made me feel valuable anyway, to Presidio anyway. I think I helped them. They were great to work with, regardless. I had some silver and gold yarn. It reminded me of treasure, and value. On day 212, October 29, I had a day off…sort of. I didn’t have to go to work but I did have to get things ready to head to Ruidoso. But I was so ready to head that way it didn’t matter. We left early enough to get there around 7:30. That’s a first. I felt revived breathing the mountain air. Pine needles, wood smoke and fresh air. I picked a green bulky that reminded me of the trees. October 30, Halloween Eve I guess, was a relaxed day. My sister and her husband came up and we watched silly old movies, went to a crafts fair and just relaxed. It was a good day for day 213. I had some sock yarn, greens, browns and blue, that reminded me of the peacefulness of the mountains. It was a good yarn for that day. Day 214, October 31, I had to use orange and black yarn because it was Halloween. I was reluctant to come down the mountain and go back to reality. But I did.

I stood right there and I did the freeze.
It did the stroll right up to me.
Made a noise with its feet that sounded like a drum.
Said "You gonna be here when the morning comes?"

"Say yes, I'll be here when the morning comes.
I'll be right here, I ain't gonna run…”

I Get Knocked Down

But I get up again.
You're never going to keep me down…

Things happen. Sometimes it’s good. Sometimes it’s bad. A lot of time there is no reason for something to happen. You’re going along, minding your business, trying to better yourself and wham…you’re blindsided by some insecure, jealous individual.

America seems to be content with mediocrity these days. Maybe nothing has changed and it’s always been that way. I saw it in the classroom. When I was teaching I could give an assignment with a rubric to calculate the grade. A rubric is just a fancy name for what you have to do to get to a certain level. For simplicity, the student had to do 5 things to pass. If the student did 6 things she was above average and if she put out any effort whatsoever and accomplished all 7 things she got an A. I don’t know if the students were lazy or just complacent. It was seldom anyone ever put forth the effort to achieve the A. Passing was good enough.

http://sweetsugarbelle.blogspot.com

That’s all fine and good because passing is passing, and that is the goal. What I didn’t like, though, is the fact that if a student wanted to excel and put out the extra effort, she was met with jealousy and sometimes even hostility from her classmates. It seems the more successful you are the more jealousy and resentment you deal with from others. It’s not fair. Why would anyone want to do better when mediocrity passes?

Picture from http://wealthsuccesssolutions.com/Mediocrity-The-killer-of-dreams.php

Jealousy is a natural trait. It stems from mediocrity. It’s the offspring of competition. We see it with kids all the time. We’ve all heard the watch me, look at me, from a toddler. Young kids compete with each other for attention from their parents or grandparents. Competition isn’t bad. Healthy competition can drive one to excel. We measure our success against the success of those around us. But when the success of one over the other gets out of balance, jealousy ensues.

It’s natural for us all to be jealous or envious at some time or other. We might be envious because our neighbor got a new car. We might be envious because our friend lost weight. It’s okay to be envious. It can lead to improvement. It’s when the envy turns into resentment or jealousy that the problems start.

 

Sometimes jealousy comes up for seemingly trivial reasons. Of course, if it happens to you it’s not trivial, no matter what the situation. I recently heard a story about a cookie caper that brought on a fit of jealousy… from someone. There is an excellent cookie designer in a little town in Texas. Her cookies are works of art, each with minute detail making the cookie a masterpiece. The cookies taste good, too. They melt in your mouth and the icing, sweet, caresses your tongue. But as it happens when someone excels, the green eyed monster, jealousy, creeps in.

http://sweetsugarbelle.blogspot.com/

Coincidentally there is another baker in the same town. The other baker has a bad reputation. It’s been said her cakes taste as bad as they look. Her cookies look as if they were decorated at an elementary school party. Both the cookie designer and the other baker started the same way, working from home. When people liked the cookie designer’s cookies better than the other baker’s, she felt threatened. She became a green eyed monster and wreaked havoc. She wasn’t content to tear down one. She tore down many.

But the cookie designer is strong. She knows how to deal with jealous people. She knows the jealous baker has a small heart. She knows that the jealous baker lacks imagination and sympathy. She knows that the jealous baker is self centered and insecure. The cookie designer, on the other hand, has a warm heart. She is sympathetic and ready to help her friends. If the jealous baker had asked she might even have helped her. The cookie designer, with her big heart, does everything bigger. She’ll get the credit she’s due, even for the small achievements. The jealous baker with the shallow heart will manage to spoil everything, even her own achievement. She’s given up. Instead of trying to better herself, she wants the reward without the work. It is so much easier for her to tear down others instead of trying to rise to their level.

 

The cookie designer will continue to make her beautiful cookies. The jealous baker will continue to make her mediocre cookies. She’ll continue to bake her tasteless cakes that no one will eat. The jealous baker will finally give up because it would take too much effort to improve. And the cookie designer will live happily ever after. Because she’ll get up again.

http://sweetsugarbelle.blogspot.com/

Jealousy will eventually find us all. We’ll be on the receiving end and we’ll be on the giving end. Dealing with the jealous people won’t be easy. But it’s doable. The secret, regardless of which side of jealousy you’re on, is to get up again.

We'll be singing,
When we're winning.
We'll be singing…

I’m hanging in with the knitayear. I’ve got a couple of other projects going too. I finished two pompadoodle blankets so far. I have two more to go. Easy, no brain knitting. My favorite! I also used a magic ball I’d had for a long time. I made a diagonal scarf. It’s all kinds of black and gold yarns, some with sparkles. I like it. Nobody said anything though so maybe it’s just dorky.

On October 23, I was feeling pretty calm, undisturbed by whatever was going on. I picked rust silk yarn. It was day 206 and it was a good day. On day 207, October 24, I did a lot of things, the things that you have to take care of, whether you want to or not. It was a pretty active day with washing and the like. I picked turquoise wool, something called kaleidoscope. The color is bright and pretty. Not sure exactly why it stood out to me but that’s what I picked. October 25, day 208 was another industrious day. I had a planned meeting and a surprise meeting. I wasn’t really prepared for the second but because I have great people I work with, across the state, managed to pull it together. I chose dark green homespun yarn. It reminded me of pine trees and the forest and the saying, you can’t see the forest for the trees. I felt like I couldn’t get it all done because I was looking at the trees but when I figured out it was a forest it all fell into place. Day 209, October 26, was a casual, catch up day. I had time to do some paperwork and plan the next meeting and trip. I picked blue variegated ribbon. It changes from dark blue, intense, to white, a lighter time. Day 210, October 27, I was again busy, consumed with details and trying to remember them all. I found a raspberry colored cotton that appealed to me. I don’t know why but that color seemed calming. I think it would be a nice color for a room. Green is really my favorite color, but the green eyed monster can stay away. But I’m ready, if I come face to face. I know what to do.

 

I get knocked down,

But I get up again.
You're never going to keep me down…

At The Copa, Copacabana…

The hottest spot north of Havana…

Her name was Lola, she was a showgirl
With yellow feathers in her hair and a dress cut down to there.
She would merengue and do the cha-cha.
And while she tried to be a star, Tony always tended bar…

There she is again, sitting on the bench at the park. She’s there almost every day. She has her knitting with her, something gray. And she has a bag of popcorn. She tosses a piece or two, and the pigeons flock around and peck the ground hoping for a bite. Occasionally she’ll stop knitting and just stare off into the distance. She stays until dusk then slowly heads for home, or somewhere else. She’s looking for comfort and a way to survive, to live in the past.

She’s dressed in a faded blue silk dress. One you’d probably wear to a party rather than to the park, to sit on a bench, knitting. But anytime you see her she’s in a similar type dress. She has stockings on, and high heels, because in her generation it was a fashion faux pas to ever go without. She has her makeup on. She’d never dream of going out of the house without it. She wears a hat with a big flower on it. Sometimes the hat has feathers. She has a hat for every dress.

They say she used to be famous, some kind of show girl. But something bad happened. Something she could never get over. Now she’s just a lonely old woman, occupied by her knitting while she thinks of things that might have been.

Occasionally people pass by, speaking to her as they do. But most times she sits, alone, with her knitting, idle in her hands, and her thoughts.

She thinks of days long ago, when she was young. She could have been a star had things turned out differently. She thinks of lost love and things that might have been. She thinks, as she knits each stitch, that it’s much like her life, the yarn, a single strand, wrapped, pulled and put together until it’s a solid piece. It’s not perfect. She notices a mistake towards the beginning. But she’s gone too far to fix it now. She comes to a knot in the yarn but she just keeps going, knitting it in, making another bump in the fabric.

And she wonders what life would be like if you could just unravel, and start again.

Her name is Lola, she was a showgirl.
But that was 30 years ago, when they used to have a show,
Still in the dress she used to wear, faded feathers in her hair.
She sits there so refined, and drinks herself half-blind.
She lost her youth and she lost her Tony,
Now she's lost her mind…

I have been knitting besides the knitayear lately. Did a quick shawl/scarf, several dishcloths and a pompadoodle blanket. It’s mindless knitting, something to do. On knitayear, day 201, October 18, I was getting sick. I thought it was allergies. I was flying to Beaumont later for a retreat with great friends and was trying to stay well. I picked pale green yarn for the day. Reminded me of feeling a little icky for some reason! Day 202, October 19, was a comfortable day with friends. It was relaxing and surprising, all in all. There was a leisurely boat ride that was relaxing, a three hour meal that was unplanned and a get-together afterwards, for fun. I found a cheerful blue/green yarn with colored threads wrapped around it. It all goes together, like the different personalities, and makes a strong thread. It reminds me of our group. October 20, day 203 and the retreat is winding down. I’m a little anxious to see what happens today. No particular reason, just a mood I guess. I picked black/white/gray eyelash yarn. It is white for good, blends to gray, for I don’t know then black, for not so good and back to gray. Fitting. Day 204 is the day to head home. It’s October 21 and there’s always a contrite feeling when I leave. Sorry for leaving the good friends and good times. Sorry for going back to reality. Sorry for anything else that may have transpired while I was gone. I chose a grayish pink LB homespun. I like this yarn and always have even though a lot of people don’t. The pink tint signifies a brightness on the horizon, like there always is after the initial disappointment. Friday is day 205, October 22. It’s a catch up day but I’m feeling pretty rough. The allergies turned into a full fledged cold. I’m reflective, thinking about things in general, things that could have should have would have been if other things weren’t. I tend to do that often. Probably a real waste of my time. I chose a ribbon yarn, orange, black, blue and green in color. It blends and reminds me of sunsets and sunrises. One thing ends and another begins. And so it goes. And I wonder, if I could, would I just unravel it all and start again.

At the Copa, Copacabana…

Thanks for The Memories

Thanks for the memory,
Of things I can’t forget.
Journeys on a jet.
Our wond’rous week in Martinique,
And Vegas and roulette.
How lucky I was…

“Oh yeah, I remember that. She had on a blue dress and she was talking about how she liked the summer days.”
“What? No, it was a blue dress.”
“It wasn’t a red dress, it was blue. Yes it was summer.”
“It was not fall. It was summer. And she had a blue dress. Not a red dress.”

It always amazes me when I talk to someone about something that happened a long time ago and they have a complete different memory of the event than I do.

My mother doesn’t forget anything. She can tell you what I wore to school on my first day of school in first grade. I might remember if she told me, but I don’t know for sure. She knows every place she’s lived by address, everyone who ever gave her a present and also everyone who ever said something she interpreted as bad. She’ll tell me something that happened and she’ll say something like, it’s John Brown, you remember, he lived over by the school and his cousin was Jim Green. There were two kids in the family and they had a blue car. One time both kids had the measles. Well, he married Jan White the other day and they moved to where the Anderson’s used to live…and I won’t have a clue. She’ll add more details. I still won’t have a clue. But in her defense, it’s hereditary. Her mother never forgot anything either.

I, on the other hand, have apparently developed very selective memory. I have too much real stuff to think about to remember some of the trivial things there are to remember. A friend of mine called one day wanting to know what happened to our friendship. I didn’t really know anything had happened. I was busy, she was busy, and we just kind of drifted apart. She started in talking about when we did this, when we did that, what I said, what she said…none of it rang a bell. I felt kind of bad but I didn’t know what she was talking about.

My youngest son was here for a visit. I asked him why he thought people remember the same event differently. He said it was a matter of perspective. I agree with that. But I also think that personal experiences play a part. Everybody sees things slightly differently. Even something seemingly with only one answer can be interpreted differently. I have a brown car. My husband thinks it’s silver. He says it looks different depending on the light. The color on the owner’s manual is burnished bronze. If we saw a car, just like mine, in an accident and were questioned by the police, I’d say it was a brown car. He’d say it was silver. One person's brown may be another's silver.

 When people begin to talk about events, things can really get rearranged. Some details get lost, some are added, and some are completely changed in the conversation. It reminds me of that game we used to play as kids, where the first person whispers a sentence or phrase into the ear of the person next to him and they whisper to the person next to them and so on until it’s the last person’s turn to say what he heard. When you ask him what the message was, most of the time they say something completely different than what the first person whispered!

I read an interesting blog the other day that told about people imagining themselves performing an action, and later believing they actually did it. Have you ever had a great idea about doing or even about how to do something, and suggested it to a friend? Days or weeks pass, you see your friend and they tell you about this great idea they had and what they did. But it was really your idea. If you even suggested it was your idea in the first place, you’re shot down. They would remember distinctly that it was their idea and you aren’t anywhere in the picture. I wonder if that’s how memories of the same event get distorted. We adopt the stories we’ve heard and make them our own.

Memories are formed through associations. Sights, sounds, smells, and impressions are tied together to form a relationship. The relationship helps form the memory. Think about a smell you associate with ‘home’. When you smell that certain smell, all kinds of memories are awakened. Mention that same smell to a sibling, and a whole other group of memories, which they have associated with that smell, come about.

Your memories are your experiences that become a part of your identity. These experiences make you who you are. Your mind keeps a scrapbook of things that happen. I think memories contribute to your personality as well. I think remembering certain things can make you act differently than you would have acted had you not remembered. Regardless, you can't know who you are if you don't know who you are. If you don’t know where you've been you can’t tell where you’re going, if you’ve already been there or if you even want to go. Now remember the time we went to Martinique. What? We’ve never been to Martinique? Well, as I remember it…

And thanks for the memory,
Of summers by the sea.
Dawn in Waikiki.
We had a pad in London,
But we didn’t stop for tea.
How cozy it was…

Day 194 of knitayear, October 11, I headed to work to head to Andrews, a town about sixty miles from my house. We heard a great speaker. It was also knitting night. I felt refreshed and I was glad I went to both. I used blue variegated cotton because it reminded me of water and freshness. On day 195, I was tired out by the end of the day. It was October 12, and I was tired and it was my late night at work. The session was okay, I think I was just still tired from the weekend. I chose peach and black cotton. It’s pale and seemed like a tired color to me. October 13 was day 196. I am amazed at how dumb people can be. I don’t know why, and I should be used to it now. I picked a shocking hot pink velour yarn. I wasn’t shocked but it seemed fitting. Day 197 is October 14. I’m getting a bit apprehensive about the trip. I have some brown thread left over from the Citron and that’s the color I used today. Day 198, October 15, is my day off. I’m carefree until later. I have the kids for the weekend, all three of them. I’ll enjoy the calm while it lasts. Sure enough, confusion when I bring them home. I found a loopy pink/brown floret yarn that I used. It’s got little puffs on it that stick out. A little crazy after they get here! October 16 is day 199. I’m a little overwhelmed, to say the least. The kids are good, just busy, busy. I have some rust colored ribbon. It’s pretty but it reminds me of being inundated for some reason. And I am. Day 200 is October 17 and it’s beginning to get a little crazy around here. I’m tired and they are still busy. It’s fun and I wouldn’t trade for it. We watched the Munster’s and they aren’t convinced it’s a funny show and not a scary show! I picked a furry orange yarn. It’s winding down. Mom and dad are coming soon. This weekend we made some memories. I won’t forget.

And thanks for the memory…

Ding Dong! The Witch is Dead

Which old Witch? The Wicked Witch!
Ding Dong! The Wicked Witch is dead.

Have you ever met someone who is just mean? Mean and even borderline evil? Someone who will do things to hurt people, not in a physical way necessarily, and get pleasure from the deed? I have.

As we go through life we’ll all run into mean people. They can be found anywhere; in the workplace, in the general public and sometimes, even at home. Why are they mean? Does it make them feel better about themselves? It seems to me that mean people are mean because of their own inadequacies. They have feelings of weakness, inferiority, or worthlessness, so they strike out to make themselves feel powerful. They use techniques such as dominating, lying to or bullying others. Their arsenal consists of harassment, mockery, and criticism. They search for ways to make people feel bad.

Meanness can disguise itself in many ways. Some people are mean in the pretext of being funny. The other night, while the miners from Chile were being rescued, I was watching television when David Letterman came on. I’m not a fan of any of the late night shows like that but the news had just ended and I hadn’t changed the channel. He started with his usual monologue. He made jokes about the miners. They had experienced such a traumatic event and he’s making fun of them. To me, it seemed like a really mean thing to do. Why I’m not a fan was reinforced and I changed the channel.

 There’s been a lot of coverage on the news lately about people being mean. Some incidents have led to fatal consequences. Bullying is also a regular headline. And don’t think there aren’t so called adults who aren’t bullies. Bullies are another kind of mean people. A bully can be male or female. They can be someone of equal or lesser status or a person in authority. They treat people in an overbearing manner and try intimidation to get what they want or to feel superior.

I ran across a website dealing with bullying. There was a lot of information on bullying in the workforce. I’m interested in that right now. One page talks about ‘serial bullies’. There is a bulleted list with characteristics of a serial bully, in the workplace, in this instance. There are many but I picked out some to share. Does this person work with you? I'm pretty sure they work with me!

• is a convincing, practiced liar and when called to account, will make up anything spontaneously to fit their needs at that moment
• has a Jekyll and Hyde nature - is vile, vicious and vindictive in private, but innocent and charming in front of witnesses
• cannot be trusted or relied upon
• has a deep-seated contempt of clients and coworkers
• is a control freak and has a compulsive need to control everyone and everything
• refuses to be specific and never gives a straight answer

http://www.bullyonline.org/workbully/amibeing.htm

Dealing with mean people on a regular basis can sap the life right out of you. If you don’t come up with a way to cope, your life can be miserable. Just remember that it’s not your fault. A mean person acts that way because of their own lack of self esteem. Being mean makes them feel superior and is the only way they know to think they are better. How can you deal with that? My first instinct is avoidance. I just avoid the person unless forced to deal with them. And then, I don’t deal with them alone. That may sound unprofessional or even chicken, but it saves a lot of anguish if there is a witness. It also intimidates the bully!


If all else fails, do what my mamaw always suggested. Be nice. It really shakes mean people up if you are nice to them. It will definitely catch them off-guard. It will be hard, but it's worth it to see them confused by your behavior. And you can laugh all the way back to your office. In the meantime I think I’ll just keep a bottle of water on my desk.

 Wake up - sleepy head, rub your eyes, get out of bed.
Wake up, the Wicked Witch is dead.
She's gone where the goblins go,
Below - below - below. Yo-ho, let's open up and sing and ring the bells out.

It’s fall! I don’t know if it’s the fall colors or just my moods but the knitayear looks fallish to me. Day 189, October 6, brought relief! A big training was pulled off successfully. I chose a goldish green ribbon. The hint of gold symbolized success, I won the prize! Day 190, October 7, was a busy day. There were three things at once going on. Or maybe four! I got my service award pin, something new at work, and it’ws in increments of five. I’m on my tenth year but because I haven’t finished I got a 5 year pin. Next year I’ll get my 10 year pin. Funny. I chose bright orange yarn because it seemed like a neon light flashing all that was going on. The next day, October 8, day 191, I was able to relax. I’d done all I was supposed to do but there’s always something going on in my job. I like it that way. I was digesting the news of a new boss. I think it will be a very good move for me. I finished a little shawlette/scarf and had a bit of yarn left. It’s a turquoise blended to brown. It reminded me of outside, at a lake or in the mountains, peaceful and relaxing. Day 192, I was feeling appreciated. I was babysitting so my daughter and son-in-law could celebrate his birthday. I brought things to cook and made soup, pumpkin bread and apple crisp. The little kids liked it all and so did the big ones. Alan and Junior came up and we all spent the night. I picked a reddish wool. It seems I’m still attracted to fall colors. A and J left early on day 193, October 10. I stuck around for a while, playing with the kids, getting some more food ready, trying to help out. It was a comfortable time and I’m glad I feel that way at their house. I picked dark olive green yarn. It reminded me of the forest and the calmness there. Calmness might not be the exact word for the chaos at their house but I felt good. Back to work on Monday to face another week. It will be a good week, hopefully and I’ll just remember that good triumphs evil, even if you do have to pour water on it.

Ding Dong' the merry-oh, sing it high, sing it low.Let them know.
The Wicked Witch is dead!

Who Are You?

I really wanna know,
Tell me, who are you?
'Cause I really wanna know…

Have you ever heard of Sybil? It’s a true story about a girl who played host to about sixteen separate and distinct personalities. Hers was a mental disorder, the result of child abuse. Eventually, with a lot of therapy, she recovered. Sometimes I feel like Sybil. But it’s not all in my head. I have a lot of different roles. I am a wife, mother, Mamye, daughter, sister, friend, enemy, coworker and employee. It’s just what females do.

How does the saying go? It’s easier to ask forgiveness instead of permission? I’m a fairly independent person. I like to be able to do what I need to do without having to ask permission. That doesn’t mean I just do what I want all the time! Unless it’s really important, I make my own decisions.

When I am the wife I am part of a partnership. We are empty nesters now and have had to make some adjustments. We both travel for work quite a lot. So, to ease the transition, Junior came to live with us. He keeps the one not traveling, company. He’s become one of the family. He’s just another kid!

When I’m the mother my name is “mom”. I think I did okay. But if you ask the kids you may get a completely different opinion. I admit I missed some important things because of work. I regret it but it’s done so I can’t dwell on it. I worked so they could have some things they might not have had otherwise. I hope they know that I’m here for them and always have been and that I support them in everything they do or would like to do. The kids are great. They are all self sufficient and have a good work ethic. They are all intelligent. I may or may not have influenced any of that but they all turned out okay.

When I’m Mamye, or Mames, as it’s sometimes shortened to, I can do no wrong! The little guys are happy to see me, any and every time. I’m the one who has the surprises. I’m the one who will let them do what mom and dad won’t. I’m fun and I’m not mean. I don’t get mad at them and they don’t get mad at me. I’m their “best friend!” I don’t let them run wild. They just think I let them do whatever they want. Power of suggestion! It’s one of my favorite times.

As a daughter I tried hard not to be a disappointment to my parents. I did the best I could and when I didn’t it wasn’t advertised. I wasn’t perfect, by any means. But I didn’t see any sense in broadcasting the things that weren’t my best ideas!

Being a sister might be one of my weakest areas. I’m not easy to get close to. I’m the big sister. My sister is 3 years younger than me and my brother is 9 years younger. I was gone when she was in high school and almost the whole time my brother was growing up. I didn’t get to know him very well at all. We are all fairly close now, though, so I guess it turned out okay.

I can be a good friend, even though I have very few ‘close’ friends. One of my dearest friends I haven’t seen or talked to in years. I have another treasured friend I do keep up with, although I don’t get to see her much. I’m a good listener and want to be there for them, should they ever need me. I know they are there for me. I have a lot of casual friends, even though most of them live far away. Maybe it’s better that way because if they really got to know me they might not even like me!

I make a very good enemy. If I don’t like you there will be no doubt. I do like most people, though, and give them the benefit of the doubt. But one time betrayed or crossed, well, that might be the only time there is. I don’t have any use for people who lie to me or backstab or walk on me. My mother is one of those who let people do things to her and use her. I watched for years and decided long ago I wasn’t going to be that way. I detest confrontation, but if push comes to shove, I’ll do it.

I can be a good coworker, as long as the backstabbing office politics don’t come into play. I’m glad to help and I can work with most anyone. The key word is with. When people want to work against me rather than with me, I’m done. That doesn’t mean I won’t work with people I don’t care for. It just means if I have a choice, they won’t be chosen. I am a team player but I do believe the team captain needs to play fair. If things aren’t fair I’d just as soon work alone. I do have a good sense of responsibility and will get things done regardless of the situation.

I’m a good employee. People are lucky to have me work for them! Treated fairly, I will give them my all. In fact, it’s a fault. I spent way too many hours at work, to the expense of my family. It’s too late now, but if I had it to do again it would be different. I’d make sure my family came first, and then I’d take care of work. Your family is always going to be there. You’re just an employee when it comes to work. And you’re a dispensable employee that can always be replaced, at that.

It’s interesting how people think of themselves versus how others see them. I’ve been told I’m cold, mean, and conceited. And I’ve also been told I’m nice, friendly, smart, and will help anyone. I think I can be all of those things, depending on the situation. So…who am I? As old as I am, I’m still not sure I know.

Who are you?
Who, who, who, who?

Whoever I am knitting is part of it. Or doing something with yarn or with my hands. It’s the fall strip of the knitayear, day 184, but a brand new section. October 1, starts it and it’s a day off for me. I don’t want to go out of the house. It’s like I’ve just withdrawn and I’m perfectly happy with it. I chose yarn that is thick and thin in texture and green, orange and gold in color. It’s pretty, I like it, and that’s what I wanted to use today. October 2, day 185, I felt so much better. I guess I needed alone time. I’m comforted and ready to get back out. It’s haircut day and that in itself is comforting! I picked yarn that is a red, yellow and blue twist. It reminds me of autumn. Sunday, day 186, is October 3. It’s a day of rest and I am slack, doing not much of anything. I picked blue/green wool, because it’s peaceful and that’s how I was today too. Day 187, Monday, October 4 is a hectic day. I am fully engaged in all three things I’m trying to do at once! I’m getting ready for the big training tomorrow and it’s nerve wracking. Pink and green ribbon, really pale colors that blend together well is what I picked for today. Day 188 is October 5. I have the day off and go to Seminole, then on to Lubbock. We meet mom and Judi and go to a cooking show and have a great time. It’s a fun day, but I’m still anxious for the workshop. I choose a light orange wool. It’s reassuring for some reason. Tomorrow is going to be a long day and we are getting back late but the night was really fun. I enjoyed visiting with my family and hope to get to do it more often. It’s all part of who I am, whoever that may be.

Tell me, who are you?
Who are you? Who, who, who, who?
'Cause I really wanna know.