Sunday, July 31, 2016

Human Fly

I'm a human fly and I don't know why… 

I watched an old movie on television the other day. It’s a horror film called “The Fly”. There’s been a remake, but this was the original, sometime in 1958. It’s about a scientist, who when conducting an experiment, mutates into a grotesque, part human part fly, after the insect accidentally gets into the transporting machine, mixing their atoms. The scientist’s wife ends up helping him destroy the creature he’d become and is charged with murder and declared ‘crazy’.
I’ve seen this film many times. In fact, the little fly at the end with the human head, crying in a squeaky voice, “Help meeee. Help meeeeee!” was the source of many giggles shared between my dad and I. Warped maybe, but funny, nonetheless.

Today, though, when I watched the movie I saw something different that I hadn’t thought of before. The wife explained, in detail, the reasons for her actions. It was a strange and incredible story, and it was the truth. But the police inspector, without benefit of doubt, proclaimed her guilty and insane, just the same.

Unfortunately this seems to be a common occurrence. A true story can sound unbelievable. If it is out of the ordinary and/or not what the listener wants to hear, the judge, jury and sentence occur, all without the benefit of a trial. It makes sense that people would not want to share the truth if the consequences are worse than if they make up an explanation to please the listener.

I don’t mean it’s right to lie. I detest liars and if there’s one thing I don’t do it’s lie. To be honest though, I do tell little lies, which I suppose makes me a hypocrite. But those are usually to spare someone’s feelings: “Does my butt make these pants look big?” “No, you look great!” That’s not to rationalize my behavior. Sometimes you just have to choose which ditch you want to die in.

The story in the movie had a somewhat happy ending. The scientist’s son rushes in to say he’s found the odd looking fly, the fly with a white head. The inspector and the scientist’s brother rush out to find the fly with the scientist’s head and arm, stuck in a web with a large spider quickly approaching. The terrified fly screams “Help meeeee! Help meeee!” (I’m laughing again here.) Just as the fly is about to be eaten by the spider, the inspector smashes them both with a rock. Thinking nobody would believe such a story, the inspector and the brother concoct a lie about the details and the wife isn’t convicted of murder.
Help meeeeee! Ha ha ha
Too bad we didn’t know about DNA. That could have saved the truth being covered by a lie. I suppose then they wouldn’t have had a plot for the movie. At the last scene the wife and the brother are explaining to the son why the scientist died. He died doing the most dangerous act for humanity, but also the most beneficial: "the search for the truth".

I don’t know why people choose to lie. The truth is best even when it’s not pleasant. Everyone has their own reasons for not telling the truth. And everyone has their own reasons for not believing the truth. And life goes on.

I say buzz, buzz, buzz and it's just becuzz 

We got new to us furniture for the place in Ruidoso. It looked nice but something was missing. I decided we needed pillows on the couches. So through Amazon, I found a bargain...or so I thought!

They had throw pillows for only $3.50 each! I glanced through the designs and picked some I wanted. When they got here I was disappointed. I read it wrong. They were pillow covers, not pillows!

I had an idea that I thought might work. I thought if I took an inexpensive bed pillow and cut it in half, then sewed up the side it would fit. My daughter in law, Jenn, had just the pillows I needed! She cut and sewed them and they were perfect for the new pillow covers!

I’m knitting a cover to recycle another pillow I had laying around. It’s gray, in a thick yarn, so should be finished soon.

Well I'm a human fly it's spelt F L Y

Friday, June 3, 2016

Crazy Train

All aboard! ha ha ha! 

He looked fairly normal, meaning average and like a lot of people. He was dressed in a t-shirt and pull on shorts and, except for needing a shave and haircut, wouldn’t have stood out in a crowd. I glanced at him as I sat in the airport waiting for a plane.

I went back to reading my book and looked up again. He was still sitting in the same spot but this time when I looked he appeared to have a bloody nose, tissue hanging from his nostrils. That still didn’t seem too strange because I’d seen it before. I felt sympathetic because I have had a bloody nose in an airport before and felt very self conscious and helpless. Then he started rocking himself.

I am a rocker and always have been. My mother tells a story of us living in a two story apartment when I was a toddler. I had a red rocking chair with a separate foot stool that matched. It was a platform type, meaning it sat flat on the floor and rocked. I would rock in the chair so hard that the platform would come off the ground and bang on the ceiling below. They complained.

Usually if someone rocks in public it’s subtle. He wasn’t. He had his arms crossed tight across his body and rocked himself to where he came out from the seat back, almost touching his knees then moved back to his original position. Over and over he rocked. My first impulse was to see if I could be of some comfort but I decided against and stayed where I was.

He had a backpack and a cell phone and he made a call. But he had the phone on speaker and spoke loudly to the recipient. It was in his lap. I couldn’t hear the whole conversation but did hear him say, “I love you too Papaw.” Again, I went back to my book.

The next time I looked he was gone. I checked my phone and continued reading. Someone came up to the chair beside mine and when I looked up, it was him. He had two pieces of what seemed to be sweet and sour chicken. I came to that conclusion because there was a Chinese food stall across the way. He took one of the pieces of chicken and sat it on the table between the chairs. There was no napkin or paper or anything. He sat it straight on the surface while he prepared to sit in the empty chair.

He settled, then picked up the chicken and popped it into his mouth while wiping his hands down his shirt. He rested quietly but he was fidgeting, twirling his fingers together. I read this was a sign of autism and I wondered if he was on the spectrum. I didn’t know but felt there was some kind of mental problem.
He then started speaking. He was having a full conversation...with himself. I could only hear snatches of the ‘conversation’ but I listened. He quoted bible verses. He spoke of the Jews and the return to Zion. He would begin a sentence and then repeat that sentence. This happened over and over. He mentioned having someone systematically eliminated. It sounded like he was reciting passages of a book or something similar.

After a while he stood and walked in a tight circle in front of his chair while he spoke. The lady across from us was working on a computer but when he started the pacing she noticed. She watched him intently and when she and I made eye contact I shrugged to say I don’t know what is wrong.

I went to the restroom and when I got back someone was in the chair I had occupied. He was still there however, walking and speaking, but had increased the circumference of his pacing. I waited at the end of the row as it was almost time for boarding. The woman who was in the chair directly behind him stood up and looked at me. She asked if he was on the phone as he was speaking loud enough for people to notice. I told her no, that something was wrong. She commented, “And he’s getting on our plane”.

It was time and I boarded the plane. His pass had a number that was after mine and I was thankful that he chose a seat near the front. The flight landed in another location but I was a through passenger and stayed on board. He got off the plane and I didn’t see him again. That was Friday.

Fast forward to Sunday when I traveled again. It was another through flight with a stop midway. I got on the plane and when we landed at the first stop, moved closer to the front like we are allowed to do after a through count. The new board was a full flight and my row had all seats occupied.

I heard someone behind me asking the lady beside him if the book was about Arnold Schwarzenegger. She replied it was and the plane took off. We landed and as we taxied to the gate and people could speak on their phones I heard someone say very loudly, “hello”. Evidently there was no sound from the other side so he spoke again, louder. Then he said, “I love you mom. I’ll see you when I see you”, still speaking loudly, enough to be considered shouting. He repeated, even louder than before, “I said I’ll see you when I see you!” The person on the receiver at the other end still apparently did not hear so he said it again, screaming, “I’ll see you when I see you!” People were looking around and snickering, glancing with embarrassment at the poor guy. I stood to disembark and turned to see who had the difficult phone conference. Guess who it was? Yes, the same sad guy that has conversations with himself in the airport. What were the odds of that?

The whole incident was funny but not in a humorous way. Mental illness isn’t funny. And, we all live with our own bit of crazy. That's how it goes...

Mental wounds not healing 

Several studies have been done recently on the benefits of knitting. The stimulation knitting provides your brain can result in better memory and attention span and also increase your problem-solving abilities. Besides all that, the gentle rhythm of the needles moving with the yarn brings relaxation and causes a drop in heart rate and blood pressure. It’s been said it also helps with the symptoms of depression.

So we continue with the knit-along. Progress is being made but with all of us being so busy it could take a while! It’s funny how Kerri, Miya and I all have our own take on this project. It will be fun to see the finished products.
Huckle Wrap
I doubt any of us will be depressed at the end of this endeavor, for sure. In fact, the feeling will probably be relief. And we will still have our sanity!

I'm going off the rails on a crazy train...

Friday, April 29, 2016

Brush Your Teeth

When you wake up in the morning, it's quarter to one...

The meeting went well and all were gathering their belongings to depart. Goodbyes and thank-yous circulated throughout the room. There were hugs, laughter and many smiles. I loaded supplies on the cart to take back to the closet. While there I took a quick restroom break as well. As I was washing my hands I looked in the mirror and for some reason, smiled. There, big as a dime at least (well maybe not) was a speck of black pepper, right in the crevice between my front and second tooth! OMG!

I know. It happens to everyone. How about you? Have you ever discovered, after much time with many people, that you had something green or brown or even pastel in your teeth? If so, you know the sinking feeling I had in the pit of my stomach! And you wonder how long it was like that and why nobody told you!

It might not seem like such a big deal. Except for the fact that I have a huge smile. I think it came from my mother, but regardless, when I smile, I smile large. So there’s no doubt in my mind everyone saw. Maybe they thought it was a shadow. Maybe they thought it was a cavity. Hmmm….what is worse? Them thinking I had poor dental hygiene or that it was tooth decay, or worse, some dread periodontal disease? I’ll survive and won’t have to see them again or at least not for a while as most were from out of town. But still...OMG!

And you want to have a little fun...

My knitting (and good) friends, Kerri and Miya and I are doing a knit-along. That means we are doing a project together, virtually. That’s how we did the February scarf too. But this project was planned since around May of last year. Finally, we are going to start and now I just have to figure it out so I can show them!

Purple and aqua from Knitpicks
Cast on...and begin!
 It looks fun. I hope it is….for us all!

You brush your teeth, ch ch ch ch, ch ch ch ch...

Thursday, March 31, 2016

Egg Man

I ran to the fridge and pulled out an egg...

Chickens are kind of dumb. They wander around all over and make noises and messes and run if you try to get near them. Or maybe they are lucky that’s all they have to do! That and lay eggs. If there was ever a perfect food I suppose it could be the egg. It’s portable. It doesn’t need refrigeration (although now they say store-bought need to be refrigerated because they have been washed) and it can be prepared in a multitude of ways. It is also a great source of protein!

My husband likes chickens. So for the time being I am wealthy…in eggs! He has several different breeds of hens (they all look like chickens to me!) and they lay different colored eggs. We have brown, light brown, dark brown, green, light green, olive, speckled and, oh yeah, white. It’s like an Easter egg hunt with no dye!

Colored Eggs!

When the Littles visited a couple of weeks ago they loved gathering the eggs. They brought them in and I scrambled them. I fried them. I even boiled them a dozen and a half which they ate them in no time flat! If they remember anything from their time here, they'll remember that “Mamye can boil eggs really good”!

Fresh eggs...scrambled!
We have so many eggs that I’ve started selling them. I had no idea how to price them so I said $5.00 a dozen or $4.00 if you bring a carton. We had to order cartons to start with so there would be enough. Now people bring me cartons all the time!

One day there were so many eggs I had a ‘special’. They were on sale, that day only, for $3.50, carton or not. You wouldn’t think a mere fifty cents would make a difference to people. But it did.

When people buy eggs, I open the carton to show them the eggs and to make sure nothing is broken. One day someone came and when I opened the carton one of the eggs had a little silver spot on the end. I picked at the spot, wondering what it was. I lifted the egg and looked closely. It said 1.69 on the bottom. It wasn’t real! It was a glass egg!

Don't eat it! It's not real!!
Ceramic eggs are placed in the egg boxes to encourage the hens to lay. They are also there so the hens will lay where they are supposed to and not out in the yard or under a bush. I’ve found eggs in some strange places! Anyway, when the eggs were gathered one of the ceramic eggs was accidentally picked up too! I told my husband and he said the funny thing is there was another ceramic egg, in addition to the one I found, that was missing. That meant two were accidentally put in the cartons.

I sent out an email to all the people I had sold to letting them know to watch for a fake egg. My husband did the same. To this day nobody has admitted to finding that lost ceramic egg!

You know, I'm the Egg Man 

I’ve been working on a baby blanket for a friend whose baby was born a while back. I was finished except for the border and binding off. There was a little time during spring break so I decided to get it done and take it to her. I knitted six rows to make the border and proceeded to bind off the edge. I worked the ends in and it was good to go. That is until I decided to take a picture.

Right side/wrong side. See it?
That's a lot of mistake!!
When I spread it out I discovered that somehow I had switched so that the front was now the back and vice versa. It wasn’t a little bit. It was about a foot worth. Would the ordinary person have noticed? It’s doubtful. But I did so I had to have a do-over. I 'unworked' the ends (and that’s hard when they are hidden well). I pulled out about 15 inches total. I got it all back on the needles and am finally going forward again. I just hate it when I do that!

It comes from a chicken not a bunny dummy. 
Yeah, I'm the Egg Man...

Monday, February 29, 2016

Lipstick Vogue

It's you, not just another mouth in the lipstick vogue 

When I talked to my daughter the other day I couldn’t help but laugh when she told her story. “Nobody” wound up her new lipsticks then put the lids back on!

A long time ago, “Nobody” lived at our house. I don’t wear a lot of makeup. I’d read an article though, that said if you needed any makeup at all it should be lipstick. So being a fashion maven wannabe, I got a couple of tubes. I just knew I was on the way to becoming beautiful.

Imagine my surprise when I took the lid off one I wanted to try. Instead of a nice firm stick with a point, or even a smooth flat edge, I had a mangled mess. The majority of the makeup was in the lid. I shook it and watched as the pointed end came out on the counter.

There are tricks to save the product should you want to Google and watch a video. But it’s kind of an overall pain. Even picking up the broken part leaves lipstick on the counter, on your fingers, and on your clothes should you forget and wipe your hands. It doesn’t wash off easily, either! It’s a slick, waxy mess.

I gathered the kids and asked just who had broken my new war paint. First, my daughter. "Did you break my lipstick?" She immediately burst into tears, started a tirade ranting how I always blamed her, it wasn’t her but it didn’t matter, I’d think it was and so on. It was a true adolescent female outburst. I listened for a bit then told her it was okay, I didn’t think it was her and the tears and wailing stopped immediately. Okay then. On to the next could be culprit!

It was my baby's turn. I asked my youngest son. He said, “Whut’s a lipstick?” with a goofy grin on his face.

Finally it was time to ask my oldest son. He said, “Wasn’t me!”

If you are an experienced mother or parent, what would you think? Who did it?

Yes, he did!

You say you're sorry for the things that you've done...

I’m still working on that February mood scarf. I won’t have it finished by the end of February, since that is today. But I will finish it.

Sometime last fall or so I ordered some yarn from a place called “Darn Good Yarn.” It’s a unique company that is designed to help the women of India and Nepal become autonomous and self-reliant. You can read about it here:

Check out
I had some pillows that needed re-vamping so I used some of my yarn, mixed with other yarn I already had and transformed them!

Not bad I guess!

It's you, not just another mouth in the lipstick vogue...

Thursday, February 18, 2016

All About that Base

I'm all about that bass… 

I take my lunch to work quite a bit of the time. It’s not for health sake, although I’m sure it might help. It’s not even for economics. Mainly it’s for mileage. I will go with someone if asked but I really don’t want to drive.

Every morning I drive approximately 45 miles to work. It’s not a bad drive, at least compared to most, and my usual time is between 45 and 53 minutes. That’s according to a message on my phone every morning. It’s a lightly populated area except for a small stretch around 10 miles, or eternity, depending on the day. That area is stressful if not deadly. Apparently traffic signs and common sense don’t apply to the south edge of the city. People completely ignore stop signs, pulling out into oncoming traffic at 75+ mph, going a mere 10 mph. One would think that having a semi-truck or other automobile descend upon the bumper of their vehicle would warrant pressing the gas pedal just a little harder. Not usually. The oncoming traffic is forced to brake, switch lanes, curse, yell and gesture at the offender only to have them zoom past a few minutes later. Surely there’s a physics lesson in there somewhere that wasn’t included in their driver education.

At work I have the luxury of having a little fridge at the corner of my desk. It’s mainly for snacks and drinks. Occasionally you’ll find a couple dozen eggs when the chickens are laying. Sometimes it’s like my home refrigerator. There was a bottle of out of date salad dressing once and some molded cheese another time that got stuck behind something else and out of view. Mostly, though, it’s for short time items, like lunch.

The ritual at meal time is to get my lunch, grab my bowl and spoon and trudge down the hall to the break room. There, I wait in line for a stinky microwave. There are three of them and depending on the day, it can take up to ten minutes, just to warm up the cuisine de jour. Then I’ll go back down the hall to my office-closet and eat at my desk. I know you aren’t supposed to but I prefer it to the odors and cacophony of the ‘coffee cup.’ Nothing is worse, however, than to get to the middle of the previously cold or frozen entrĂ©e to find it’s still in that state, either ice cold or frozen. Yuck. I don’t want to journey back down to the malodorous cooking machines so I’ll either stir it around to make it warm enough to finish or lose my appetite.

After Christmas one of the ladies I work with brought a ‘lunch’ crock-pot to work she had received as a gift. It was great! She brought her food in the little pot, plugged it in when she got to work and by lunch time it was nice and hot. She can either eat it straight out of the little container or she can put it in another bowl. It’s amazing!

My friend and I decided that was what we needed and each got one very similar to hers. We bring food, plug it in and have a piping hot meal without using the putrid public microwave. Rinse (or not) when finished, take home then repeat for the next day! The only drawback we have found is that our lunch crocks have the cord attached to the outside bowl. The other lady has one that fits on a base so she can leave that part at work and just bring the crock container every day. That would be a lot more convenient than hauling around a bowl with a cord hanging down the side. It actually winds around the bottom nicely but when you unplug then have hot food there’s not a way to manipulate without the possibility of a frightful burn; so the cord hangs.

But I have a solution! I have ordered us both a new lunch crock with the base. We are excited and can’t wait to get our new machines! After all, it’s all about the base, the base, no trouble…with cords and such. Right? Enjoy your lunch!

You know, I'm all about that bass…

I saw a February project the other day that was interesting. I told my knitting friends, Miya and Kerri and we decided we’d try it. It’s quite a bit like my knit-a-year project I did a few years back but this one is a scarf. You pick your colors, one for each mood you might encounter, and then knit about 2.5 inches each night. You use the color of your mood that day.

I picked some very unlikely colors. All are sock yarn, variegated. I kept it simple, with only four skeins. There is a black/gray one that I can use as sad or angry, frustrated or disgusted, or basically a bad mood. I have a purple/blue one that will be for happy and energized. There’s an orange/blue one I’ll use for a calm, serene, or a content mood and finally, a green/brown one as tired or blah. I cast on 40 stitches on a size 9 needle. I chose the linen stitch for the scarf. It’s working up nicely but it’s taking quite a long time to knit the section each night because the yarn is so thin. I’ll finish it but I’ll think twice and use a thicker yarn next time!

All about that bass.

Wednesday, January 27, 2016


Take some time to think, figure out what's important to you…

Here’s to 2016! It’s another chance for us to do things right.
Happy New Year!!

The last couple of years, instead of a list of resolutions I would never keep, I chose a word for the year. Although it may sound easy, it’s not! The first year I struggled and finally decided upon the word “Embrace”. I wanted, when faced with a challenge, to look at it as a chance to grow instead of a chore. I can honestly say I grew a lot that year.

Last year my word was “Create”. If you know me, you know I am forever with yarn. I thought this word would be easy. It wasn’t. It turns out I never even posted the word. What I intended, besides my usual outlets, was to explore new possibilities, create opportunities, try new things and make time to fully enjoy whatever it was that came about. It wasn’t a complete fail but I could have done so much better.
Forever with yarn!
So this year I thought and thought about what my word should be. I looked at word lists online, googled inspiring words, perused word of the year sites but nothing spoke to me. One night, during some dream I no longer remember, my word came to me. I can’t say it’s found on a positive word list. But I think it’s perfect for me.

My word this year is Stop.

Stop can be a noun or a verb. Stop means come to an end; cease to happen, or a cessation of movement or operation. But it also means so much more. It can mean catching up with loved ones; stop in, stop by, stop off. Capturing a moment in time and perhaps even altering it with a camera stop. It can mean pretty; face to stop a clock or ugly, homely enough to stop a clock. It can mean slow down and enjoy; stop and smell the flowers, stop on a dime, stop, look and listen. I want to stop the negative thoughts, stop the procrastination, stop and enjoy, stop and think, stop and listen.

I want to stop putting off things and get them done and stop and make time for my family. I want to stop worrying about the things that aren’t important and enjoy the things that are. Of course ultimately, stop holds me accountable because we all know the buck STOPS here!

Hope 2016 is off in the right direction for you! Do you have a word? Share it here!

You've got to make a serious decision…

Fingerless mitts seem to be the obsession of the month! I’ve really had a lot of fun and even learned how to be proficient at the magic loop method.

I thought I already was but I think I had made up a convoluted technique. So when I stopped to view the YouTube instructions I realized it was pretty simple after all!
Knit and crochet.
Plain and with buttons!

Stop! Take some time to think, figure out what's important to you.