Eat It

It doesn't matter if it's fresh or canned, 
Just eat it, eat it, eat it, eat it… 

It was probably the last weekend of the summer for Evan to come over. He starts junior high in a couple of weeks and with that, all the pre-activities associated with the beginning of school. We’d had a great school clothes shopping day (another post sometime), and were back at the house. We did our traditional corny ritual of watching a detective show or two before bed then hit the sack. Both of us were tired, me especially! 

The next day we slept in, Evan til noon! I let him because he’ll be going strong soon. We had another corny ritual, what we call doctor coffee. When they were little I let them drink coffee. Judge me if you must. I would fix theirs, about ¼ coffee in their travel mug, to ¾ milk. I’d sweeten it and they loved it. We’ve since graduated to flavored creamers and it’s still amazing. They think so anyway!

Suppertime was coming and I asked Evan what he wanted. We try to please them by having whatever they want when they are here. He wanted steak. So, steak it was. I fixed some vegetables and creamed onions, avocado and tomato as a salad and we called it good. As we ate we chatted. Because I’m such a good cook (insert applause here), the food was exceptionally tasty! Evan didn’t care for the vegetables because it was a mixture with squash, corn, red and orange bell peppers, onion, green chili and tomatoes. That was what he didn’t like, the tomatoes. Anyway, the vegetables and what the mixture included was what spurred the conversation.

Evan wasn’t sure about squash. It was yellow squash and Alan told him how his mamaw had cooked it when he was a boy. He told him it was fried and he loved it. Evan said he’s never eaten fried squash! From there, Alan reminisced about the okra his mamaw used to cook. It was fresh and she cut it into pieces then battered it in a mixture of cornmeal and flour. Next she fried it until it was crispy and brown. He told us it was his favorite food that she had made.

After a minute I told them the favorite food that my mamaw used to make. It was what we call ‘goulash’. It’s made of hamburger meat, macaroni and tomato juice, and there are many variations. Most families have had it at one time or another. In college, my friend Doreen always wanted to make me American Chop Suey. Finally, one day we had the chance. She prepared the meal and was so proud to serve…goulash! It must be universal!

We sat for a moment more, enjoying the food and each other. Alan told Evan he’d have memories of what Mamye had cooked him when he got older. I asked Evan what his favorite food was that I had made him so far. He thought for a while and finally said, well it’s that noodle stuff. I said spaghetti? Nope, that’s not it. It had an orange sauce. Macaroni and cheese I asked? No, not that. We thought some more and he added that it had meat in it. Alan started to laugh and said Hamburger Helper? Yes Evan exclaimed. That’s it. That stuff’s good! We giggled. One day this summer while they were here I had fixed Hamburger Helper for their lunch. They were hungry, I was in a hurry, and it was there. I never dreamed it would make such an impression!

It’s bittersweet that the kids are getting older. I know the time we’ll have to spend together will get to be less than it is already. He’ll have his activities and his friends and he’ll be busy. He won’t want to come over to sit with Mamye and Pap and watch silly detective shows on TV or eat leisurely suppers. He’ll be starting his journey to adulthood. I just hope that occasionally we can get together.

Maybe someday, when his grandkids are over enjoying the weekend, they will have a conversation at supper. He’ll take a bite of something that will spur a memory about how well his Mamye made Hamburger Helper. He’ll remember the fun times that were had when he stayed over. He might even share his story with them and ask what their favorite thing is that their Mamye makes. I bet it won’t be Hamburger Helper!

Have a big dinner, have a light snack 
If you don't like it, you can't send it back

Remember I told you there was a lot of rain at the beginning of the summer? Apparently that was the allotment for the season because since then all it’s been is hot. Not just summer hot but record breaking temperature hot! For that reason it’s been small knitting projects, things that don’t sit across my lap and finishing things that were already finished except for working in the ends. I might or might not have a whole basket of things like that!

Rainbow Birthday Cake Cowl

Homespun from Ft. Davis, simple cowl

Orange Montego Bay scarf

Dishcloth set, Tribble, Grandma's Favorite, Ballband Dishcloth

I guess in the long run it doesn’t matter what you make or what you cook. What matters is the feelings attached to the action, from both ends. I’m glad Evan likes my Hamburger Helper. But mostly, I’m glad he associates it with good memories.

So eat it, just eat it…

Brave

Say what you wanna say 
And let the words fall out. 
Honestly I wanna see you be brave!

There we were, gathered in the ‘Take a Break’, our version of an employee lounge. It was a birthday celebration and someone brought a delightful cake for all to share. I deposited the half piece on my party plate and placed a luscious bite in my mouth. That’s when she said, “That’s why you look the way you do”.

I jumped on the chair, glared down at her and said, “Yes, people do mistake me for you all the time. Mind your own business, you hateful wench!”

But really, as I choked down that one bite and all joy I’d had from the taste, I quietly put the rest in the trash and left the room. She won.

The meeting was going well. Ideas were being discussed and plans were solidifying. There was a question about a grant. That’s when he said, “I’d rather deal with terrorists and snipers than your program”. Several people smiled and a few even broke into spontaneous laughter.

I didn’t find it funny. But I smiled, like the rest, and sweetly said, “Oh yeah? Well, stick it in your ear or your nose or anywhere else that might be convenient!”

That’s what I said in my head. Actually my feelings were really hurt. And I was embarrassed. But I smiled with the rest and acted like I agreed. He won.

It was supposed to be a pep talk. The door was closed and the right things were being said. Then out came, “Have I ever lied to you?”

Jumping up I screamed, “How the heck should I know? Does ommitance count?” But like the good girl I am, I didn’t mention specifics. Instead, I politely replied with the expected, “No.” She won.

Why is it not acceptable to say what I think, what I want to say? Why can’t I defend myself? It wouldn’t have to be snarky. I could keep it polite, not bringing myself down to their level. But I don’t contradict. I don’t make waves. And sadly, the word bullies win.

I have three little granddaughters. I love them dearly and want the best as they become young ladies. I hope they are able to stand up for themselves and what they think is right without ridicule or insults. I want them to be strong but kind, to be assertive but gracious and to be articulate but polite. I want them to be brave. I want them to defeat the word bullies.

Everybody’s been stared down by the enemy.
Fallen for the fear 
And done some disappearing, 
Bow down to the mighty.
Don’t run, just stop holding your tongue!

Believe it or not there was a yarn bombing, right here in Odessa! Well, sort of anyway. It was at the Museum and it was their interpretation. I didn’t completely agree it was a true yarn bombing but it was fun anyway. Here’s a few pictures.

Wrapped up.

Bikini skater?

Kathy and Pippi Longstocking!

Someone's grandma is  missing an afghan!!

Borrowed from the living room couch?

Strange creatures in skirts!

Pole not dancing.

And here’s my own little yarn bomb on my deck. Because I can.

My own private yarn bomb!

And since your history of silence 
Won’t do you any good, 
Did you think it would? 
Let your words be anything but empty.
Why don’t you tell them the truth?

The Candy Man

Who can take a sunrise, sprinkle it with dew… 
Cover it with chocolate and a miracle or two 

Yawn. If I go to bed now I can get a full seven hours of sleep. Or I can play Candy Crush for a few minutes first and still get enough rest. Sweet! Delicious! Oh, Candy Crush, how do I loathe thee? Let me count the ways. Wait, is it how do I love thee? Sometimes. Maybe. Once in a while.

Who hasn’t heard of Candy Crush? Not many I’m sure. If you watch TV or have a computer you’re bound to have seen an advertisement. It’s one of the top games today. Remember when it was a big deal if a song would crossover from the country chart to the rock chart or vice-versa? This is the techno version I guess, but it’s the first ever to be number one on iOS, Android and Facebook, all at the same time! Candy Crush is available and a bit addictive.

There are a few flaws however. It’s obscene to think that I will pay to play their game. They have no idea the patience I have. After all, I’ve just spent a year on level 125, so I can endure any level they throw at me! Maybe not a full year, but if I thought of the things I could have been doing instead of playing this silly game, well, I’d be embarrassed. Thankfully, I only have five lives and they pass quickly. That’s the part that’s supposed to make you spend money. You can buy more lives. Not me. I look at it as a relief. That’s done so now I can go on to something productive.

I’m a Tetris fan from way back. Little falling pieces of color navigated into place to form a solid structure, all while being timed. It was mindless fun for me and I spent many hours, days probably, placing the pieces together to form a block. Maybe it’s hereditary.

My Grandmother played something called Hexed. It was a box of plastic pieces that formed a rectangle when they all went together. She would complete the puzzle, carefully take it out and trace around each piece and keep the recorded solution in a notebook. That’s probably why I like office supplies too!

Pre-historic Tetris!!

When I finally got past level 125 the other day I got to the challenges, completed two in a row and was getting to the third one when I ran out of lives. (“Challenges” is for cheapskates who won’t pay to play the game.) I was doing so well I didn’t want to wait the 24 hours before the next time I could attempt the third challenge so I decided to try a trick. Actually, I decided to cheat. I set the clock on my phone ahead so that it looked like 24 hours had passed. I played, didn’t win and felt guilty for cheating so I set the time back as it was. I went back to Candy Crush and what the heck? Is said something like I had to wait 1400 and some hours to play again. Really? Isn’t that like a couple of months? Desperate, I went to Google to see what I had done wrong. Apparently the CC gurus had figured out the cheat and ‘fixed’ it. The only thing I could do would be to delete and reinstall the game. If that happened it would take me back to, gasp, level one. Or, I could give them money.

I won’t pay. Delete and reinstall? I couldn’t do it! I had to figure out something else! I’d spent too much time to throw all my efforts away. More research said if you back it up to Facebook then you delete and reinstall it saved your history. I don’t play on FB because I never want some abstract random message popping up when I am at work. But I figured I could back it up, delete, reinstall and then delete from FB. It worked. My history was saved! I was still on the last challenge which I quickly conquered.

It’s been said that desperate times call for desperate measures. That’s what happened. There was a contest between me and the game. The game won. It doesn’t know but when I get tired of it I’ll delete it for good. But in the meantime I still have five lives. Gotta go.

Who can take a rainbow, wrap it in a sigh.
Soak it in the sun and make a groovy lemon pie...

A long time ago I had a pattern for a “Knitted Scarf” my friend Debbie gave me. It was a copy of a boutique scarf that was a hot item back then. I made many and even sold them. The yarn cost so much that I sold them at $20.00 each. And nobody batted an eye.

Of course I lost the pattern for years. It’s a simple triangle scarf, and I could figure it out but there were a couple of little things that made the drape better. Then I found it again! I have a bunch of thin novelty yarn that I thought might be perfect so I got out the needles to make some new ones. It’s quick and fun. I like these because they are versatile. They fold up or spread out. They are light and airy. Just right!

An old scarf, red with black fun fur.

A new one. Green rayon yarn.

Orange rayon and ribbon. Squishy!

Just ribbon.

Other than that I’ve been working on quick things. I wound yarn around this heart, just because and will hang it on my deck.

I finished the mohair cape. It’s cute. Even if I didn't like it what a pain it would be to rip out! I think it would be good over a tank top or in a chilly office.

Cowl, capelet/poncho, skirt??

I’d get a lot more done if I’d keep my hands on the needles and off Candy Crush!! Believe it or not there are some patterns for Candy Crush items out there. Hmmm....

The Candy Man can 'cause he mixes it with love and makes the world taste good!

Don't Ask Me No Questions

And I won't tell you no lies… 

I ran across something the other day that said we live in a culture of Tell. I know most people just expect but I’d never really thought about it like that. It went on to say that telling puts the other person down. It’s supposed to be a sociological thing.

Personally, I have never liked people telling me what to do. That’s not to say that I won’t do something when I’m told (by my mother or someone like my boss) but I don’t have to like it. If I’m asked to do something, however, the chances improve considerably. It makes all the difference in the world.

After looking up synonyms of “tell someone what to do” I found the list surprising. Words like order, command, and dictate came up. Phrases included “to say that something should be done, in a way that shows you have authority”, “to tell someone exactly what to do and how to behave”, and “to keep telling someone what to do in an unfair and unpleasant way”. Doesn’t that make you want to rush out and do whatever someone TELLS you to do? Ask and you might receive!

It doesn't hurt to ask...

Asking questions however, is another story. My mother says, “Ask me no questions, I’ll tell you no lies.” She especially likes to repeat this when we pester about what Christmas gifts were under the tree or anything else that involved her not wanting us to know! Even though I would rather be asked than told I don’t particularly enjoy being questioned. If I want to share information I will. If I don’t there is no point in asking. I especially dislike those soul searching questions; “What are your strengths?” I freeze. I can’t think. I don’t have any. It’s not really any of your business. When forced I’ll think of something. Pressured, I’ll speak. The tepid reception seals it and I vow never again.

Ask isn’t always nice. Callye was the first class in our town, of pre-kindergartners. It was open to anyone so we had to decide whether to send our tiny four year old to ‘school’ or risk her starting out behind because everyone else was sending their babies. She came home the first day and I asked her, “How was school?” “I don’t know,” she replied. “Why not? Didn’t you have fun?” Her little face clouded up, she frowned and in a teary voice said, “Cameron called me a dumb-ask”. I guess that would put a damper on your day!

Then there are the people who are constantly seeking your opinion on something or other yet always doing the opposite of what you tell them. Why even bother? These people are called askholes. (I wish I had coined this term myself but it’s from the Urban Dictionary). How about the brutally honest? We all know those who feel “don’t ask if you don’t want to know” is the best policy. Alas, it’s not always a pleasant experience.

Generally, it’s usually better to ask if you want something done. Just try a kid at bedtime. They will run any errand for you! Beware the empty questions and remember; only a true friend will ask you how you are and actually wait to hear the answer.

Well, I appreciate your feelings and I don't want to pass you by.
But I don't ask you about your business, don't ask me about mine...

Next time someone says “How are you today?” or maybe “How have you been?” Try saying something nonsensical. It most likely won’t even be noticed. The ‘asker’ will continue on, probably responding with, “That’s nice” or some other such phrase. And you can laugh because you’ll see what I said is true!

If I could, I’d stay home all day and knit. Or crochet. Or anything. I don’t want to get out of the house but I don’t want to be productive when I’m home. Well, productive in the ways I need to be that is. I guess it’s a funk and it will soon pass. Hopefully sooner than later.

I spent (wasted) a lot of time knitting on a Lace Capelet and was close to the end when I decided I wasn’t going to have enough yarn to finish. I don’t know why I didn’t just bind off and make a pretty cowl…but I didn’t. I ripped it all out and started again with another mohair yarn. I didn't even take a picture. Mohair is not fun. If you mess up you might as well just toss it.

Airy...but will it be cool enough?

There's a tiny thread that shines woven throughout this yarn.

But I persevered and even after ripping back a couple of times on this new project am on the way to the finish. I don’t know if it will even be wearable as hot as it is here. It’s something easy though, and hopefully it will knit me out of this mood! I’ll let you know…don’t ask.

But when I come off the road, well I just got to have my time 
'Cause I got to find a break in this action, else I'm gonna lose my mind.
So, don't ask me no questions...
And I won't tell you no lies.

King of Nothing

When I was 17, I dreamed of being king. And having everything I wanted. 

How about Queen? It’s still of nothing. Normally it doesn’t bother me that I’m just a worker-bee. After all, what would all the Kings get done if it weren’t for the worker-bees? Probably not much. Their job isn’t to do the work. It’s to get the credit. Have they earned that status? Some, yes. Most, no.

 

There is definitely a hierarchy where I work. And when you are at the bottom you are reminded, continuously. It may not be overtly, but it is definitely in a most nebulous fashion. Take today for instance. We were told we had visitors in the building and if they came by your area to please help welcome them.

I had been working on a large project most of the morning. I stepped out to warm my cold coconut coffee, (you don’t waste those little K-Cup things), and said hello to a fellow worker. We had just completed a joint project and we caught up on that, then drifted to some chit chat. I was preparing to return to my office when the tour came through the hall and stopped at a poster hanging in her window. The guide said, “let me introduce you to a very important person here, the coordinator of a notable state project.” She dutifully stepped into the hall. I dutifully stepped further into her office, out of the way.

At the end of an animated conversation with the group the guide prepared to move them along. She turned and said, “Don’t you need to introduce Jamye?” He hesitated and said, “Oh, yes, this is Jamye. She’s in charge of CTE. She’s in that office over there.” He pointed in the general direction and I spoke to the group and explained that CTE means Career and Technical Education. That was it. I was dismissed as they moved along.

Did I do this to myself by moving further into her office? Or am I conditioned to know my place? If she hadn’t spoken up I would have been completely ignored. Should I have rushed out with her and told them that what I do, even though I am Queen of Nothing, is just as important? I don’t know.

Why is it that someone who has a title thinks it’s unimportant for another to have one as well? I was reminded of a conversation with my then boss, years ago. I had to sign forms in the blank with a title even though I didn't hold that title. He said a title meant nothing. It was the quality of the work, etc., not a title that defines a person. Titles are unimportant. I, apparently in my smart *ss mode, asked, so instead of superintendent would it be okay to call you custodian? Interestingly enough, the story changed and a title suddenly meant something!

In the grand scheme of things, I suppose it doesn’t really matter. I could pass that group in the hall and they wouldn’t know who I was. I will most likely never see any of them again. If I did, I’d have to introduce myself or be introduced again because none of them said their names. And in reality I have a title. I have lots of titles; Mom, Mamye, friend, daughter, wife, sister. They are all cherished. They also mean much more than a work title.

As my friend Lynn told me; your value doesn't decrease, because of someone’s inability to see your worth. Thank you Lynn. I’ve got to stop wearing my feelings on my sleeve!

But that was long ago and my dreams did not unfold, so I'm still the King of Nothing. 

We finally had our last Christmas this weekend. The littles came over. We ate and visited and opened presents then ate some more! It was a good time for all. There were a lot of presents and a birthday too! Evan turned 10. Seems impossible.

Christmas prime rib. Yummy!

Presents and cousins. Belle was hiding!

The first grandchild is already ten years old!

Caleb asked me to make him a scarf. He wanted green and blue with hot pink on the ends. I had some bright colored green, blue and yellow yarn and he thought that might work! He liked it. It’s always good when someone appreciates your efforts!

Smashing! Handsome little dude, huh!

If I could rule, I'd dance my cares away, find romance everyday. 
I wouldn't have to listen to this poor fool say, "I'm the King, I'm the King, I'm the King of Nothing."

Do You Want to Know a Secret?

Do you promise not to tell?

A recent game on Facebook had people revealing ‘X’ number of things about themselves that other people did not know. I was very careful not to ‘like’ anyone’s status, even though I really enjoyed reading them, because I didn’t want to get some horrid number that I couldn’t fulfill.

The more I thought about it though, the more I liked the idea. But I found it was harder than I believed.

Once I stuffed 21 grapes in my mouth while talking on the phone to my then boyfriend, now husband. My roommate and I started laughing and I almost choked to death.

I rode a bus home from Hobbs, NM, on an ice covered road with a bunch of students from the school of the deaf. It was really quiet until one of them signed something funny and they all started laughing.

I was in a beauty pageant in high school. I didn’t win but I didn’t lose either. There were 20 of us and only one winner. I spun yarn and knitted for my talent. Seriously. It was 1976, the bicentennial. My art teacher is the one who encouraged me to participate. That year Miss America arranged flowers as her talent. So she thought spinning and knitting fit in. She wrote a script, I memorized it, wore a costume and spun then knit on stage. I was so scared my knitting needles clicked together with my shaking hands. You can stop laughing now.

I almost drowned when I was little. My aunt’s parents had a pool in their backyard. I fell in but managed to get myself out. It was traumatic. To this day I get very nervous when water gets up to my chin.

Junior high had ninth graders when I went to school. Freshmen took algebra. My teacher was a male chauvinist pig. When class began he said you girls, you go over there. You can’t do math anyway. And we don’t think we can. There’s no telling how many girls he quashed with his superior attitude.

I hate mice. Not only do I detest the nasty creatures but I also despise their cousins, hamsters, rats, bats, and anything else that resembles a rodent. They terrify me. If I even think there is one in a room I can’t go there. If there is actually one in there, deceased even, I can’t go in there. Once when Callye was small we had a mouse. We live out in the country so it’s to be expected but I grew up in the city and never had to deal with such. Anyway, Alan set a traditional trap. He was at work, Callye was playing and new baby Bryce was sleeping peacefully. Suddenly I heard a ‘snap’. Sounded like the nasty thing was caught. Sure enough he was because he ran out from behind the table, carrying the trap along with him, made a few circles and died. Right in the middle of the living room. I couldn’t do a thing. I couldn’t get the broom and a dustpan and sweep it up even. I was paralyzed. I pondered the situation and wondered if it would be considered child abuse to get a three year old to take the dead parasite out of the room, not touching the thing mind you, but with a dustpan or holding the trap itself. Luckily, and this is real because we didn’t have visitors, someone happened to stop by. I asked her if she could help me. She gave me a disgusted look, went over and picked it up. By the tail. And she threw it out the door. Far out the door. I don’t know which I found more revolting, her or the dead mouse.

 

I’m sure I could think of plenty more now that I’m in project tell secret mode but I’ll stop. They might come in handy some other time!

If you dare, tell something nobody knows about you!

I've known a secret for a week or two.
Nobody knows, just we two...

Speaking of secrets, I think I mentioned I participated in a scarf exchange with my LSSK friends. Well, my recipient pretty much guessed it was me! But she liked the scarf and the rest of the package as well she said.

And I got a great package too! My scarf is beautiful, bright greens and blues in a pattern called Strangling Vine. There were some cool stitch markers that were square and of course, some chocolate! It was a great package and I’ll wear the scarf for years to come. Thank you Caroline!

Closer, let me whisper in your ear. 
Say the words you long to hear…

I’m Your Captain

I'm your captain, I'm your captain,
Can you hear me, can you hear me,
Or am I all alone.

“On behalf of the flight crew, let me welcome you aboard Southwest Flight 1647 to Midland-Odessa. We apologize for the delay and hope to make up some time in the air. We should touch down in Midland around 9:43 local time, depending on the weather. Again, we apologize for the delay…”

As it turned out I was over four hours early for my flight. Luckily a very nice attendant offered to keep my suitcase behind the counter because I was so ahead of schedule I wasn’t even allowed to check my luggage! I’m used to waiting at the airport, which if you know me is a common occurrence if flying and I are involved. The flights to our part of Texas are few and far between. But if it’s not the timing, it’s the airline. So I wait. Some airports aren’t as bad as others. This time I have some knitting with me. And I like to people watch so it will be a productive wait at least!

My phone battery is almost dead so I found a chair with the plug underneath it. Dallas Love Field has recently remodeled so there are a few more of these chairs available than there used to be. A man, a pilot I think, because he’s wearing a uniform that could pass for such, and a young girl take the two seats beside me. She has a large pink purse with a silver skull on it. She’s entertained by her phone the whole time. She would giggle and sometimes show him the screen. The man doesn’t look very old, late 30s to mid-40s, probably. I think she’s his daughter.

He goes to the counter for a while and she and I sit beside each other, each stealing glances at the other. When he came back they left. I saw them again later, he sans uniform and she still with the pink bag. They sit opposite me at the far end of the aisle. They sit very close and then I notice they have wedding rings on. She was his wife.

A man with thick glasses is sitting at the end of the row. He’s has a newspaper and he’s skimming it while he watches my hands as I knit. He has his telephone and makes a call while he continues watching my fingers. Finally he asks what I’m making. I told him it was a scarf for a friend. He said it was very pretty. Men don’t usually ask. I think he really wanted to chat but another man sat down in the chair between us and he went back to his paper.

There was a young professional, impeccably dressed in a grey business suit, white starched shirt and pink tie with little grey dots on it. He sat across from me. He was very serious and made eye contact with no one. He opened his carry on, removed some very bright athletic shoes and took his dress shoes off. He removed wooden shoe stretchers from the athletic shoes and placed them in his dress shoes. He then placed each shoe in a felted shoe bag and placed them in his suitcase. He put the athletic shoes on and tied them. Then he stood, flexed his legs, and untied his necktie. He sat back down, opened his suitcase again and took out a flat case. He opened the case and balanced it on one leg while he painstakingly folded the necktie. He then placed it inside, secured it with a small strap, folded the case and put it back with his other belongings. He stood, gathered his possessions and prepared to leave. He never took off his jacket or unbuttoned the top button of his starched shirt.

The shoes...

Finally it was boarding time. The short flight was smooth and the pilots made up the time for their part of the delay. It was late, and I was concentrating retrieving my luggage so I could make the seemingly mile walk to my car at the work parking lot. At the luggage carousel I heard someone call my name. I turned and there were four of my coworkers. One asked if I had been on that plane. Yes, I said. We commented how we had not seen each other. Across the way were two more coworkers. They had also been on the plane and none of us had seen any of those we weren’t immediately with. They all were seated before I boarded. I thought about people watching. I must not pay as much attention as I supposed. Look at what I missed.

I'm getting closer to my home ...
I'm getting closer to my home ...

I’ve finished the scarf I was working on and it’s blocking. I’ll show more pictures later.

Scarf blocking

Also, I finished one of my favorite patterns, a little scarf/shawl. This happened to be purple and goldish yellow and I had a furry yarn to bind off with that matched it exactly. I did this on my first one by accident but since then I’ve thought it fun to add that little touch.

The edging matched perfectly!

Shawl/scarf...my favorite go to pattern .

I’ve started a Gap-tastic cowl. It’s coming along pretty fast. I have a long road trip coming up and thought it would be great travel knitting.

Gap-tastic 3

If you return me, to my home port,
I will kiss you mother earth.
I'm your captain, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.

Alice’s Restaurant

You can get anything you want at Alice's Restaurant...

My friend has been doing something called Blogtember with her blog. It’s kind of a game with prompts to follow every day that tell you what to write about. My friend is extraordinary! She’s doing a great job!

So when I read her blog the other day, it was creative writing day. The instructions were to write a very short fictional story that started with the sentence below. Since I sometimes I write little stories, and I enjoyed hers, I thought it would be fun, even though I’m not participating in Blogtember. I’ve written a story on my blog once or twice before. So here I go!

"To say I was dreading the dinner party would be the understatement of the century." 

All I could think about was getting out of these work clothes and into something more comfortable. It had been such a stressful day. I was so tired, both mentally and physically. I just wanted to stay home.

I slipped off my shoes and stretched my bare feet as I found my favorite slippers. Next was the dress, which I carefully put back on a hanger so it wouldn’t wrinkle and I could get one more wear out of it before I had it sent to the cleaners.

I went in the bathroom to find my sleep pants. They weren’t really sleep pants but I wouldn’t wear them anywhere except to bed so that’s what they became. They were soft t-shirt material that felt good next to my skin. The well-worn Eagle’s tour shirt was flung over the shower door and I grabbed it and pulled it down over my head. It felt like velvet on my weary body.

I wandered to the kitchen and glanced at the clock. I had about two hours before I had to be there. It would take me thirty minutes to get ready and about twenty minutes to get there. That left an entire hour that I could relax before I had to get busy.

I looked in the fridge to get a beer but then I decided that I might smell like a brewery when I got there. Since I really didn’t know all of the people who were coming I didn’t want to make a bad impression. So I opted for wine instead. One glass of wine wouldn’t hurt and I’d be relaxed and ready to socialize.

I grabbed my goblet, my knitting and the remote and settled into my comfortable recliner. I never thought I’d be a recliner type of girl but that’s what I’d become. Every night I’d make my nest, gathering everything I might need and putting it within arm’s reach. Then I’d kick back, turn on the television, find a movie or good show and knit until I had enough energy to move from the chair to the bedroom and go to sleep. How exciting my life had become.

There was an old black and white mystery on and I draped a blanket across my lap and started in on my latest project. Knit one row, purl one row; the rhythm was relaxing and familiar. It was no brainer knitting and I didn’t have to pay attention.

The ringing of the phone startled me. I fumbled around, searching for my glasses that I thought I’d been wearing. Sometime or other, without realizing it, I’d put them on the table. Hurriedly I peered through them to see who might be calling. My heart fell as I glanced at the screen. It was 10:30 pm. I was supposed to have been there at 7:00. Caller ID said it was my friend. I didn’t answer.

I swallowed the rest of my wine, turned off the television and went to bed.

My friend Kathy has the right idea!

You can get anything you want, at Alice's Restaurant.
Walk right in it's around the back...

I’ve got the knitting bug again! Then only trouble is I have a few things started and nothing finished! It does keep things interesting though!

Just a half a mile from the railroad track.
You can get anything you want, at Alice's Restaurant...