What a total crack up!

You've got to check this out. I think this bird has better rhythm than I do . . .

Let's Dance!

I'm off to visit some family, so blogging will be even more sporadic than the recent past (if that's possible! lol). Have a great weekend everyone!

Doin' the happy dance.

This was in my inbox just as I was trying to dash out the door Friday night:


frecklegirl has invited you to Ravelry!



Hey there,

frecklegirl has invited you to Ravelry!

Here you go! Thanks for your interest in our little site. Let me know if you have any questions or problems!

Jess


Yep. I now can login and see what the fuss is all about.

Except I haven't had time yet. :o\ I have cleaned the fridge today, though. That's definitely something, right? ;o)



Check it out . . . I can now see the sprouting seeds (they're all the way at the back of the top shelf) . . . one step closer to actually sprouting them. lol

Have a great one!

Good Tidings of the Season

No, I don't mean Christmas. (Although Costco already has their Yuletide merchandise out. Yikes.)

We've been doing a little festive decorating, some of which is shown here. First, you have the wreaths . . .




These are very simple to make. You buy a small grapevine wreath and a fall floral pick. Disassemble the pick, and then put it all on the wreath. This one has a few added birch leaves from the neighbor's tree.



The beauty of the floral pick route is that the composition is already made for you. A 59¢ wreath and a $1.39 pick (don't'cha love sales?), a few dabs of hot glue for the spots where the wire bases of the pick components don't suffice, and you're in business.

Here's the final product:



Not bad, if I do say so myself. The ribbon isn't wired, hence the pretty drape. (Ack--I've got to go fix that ribbon on the right!) It looks like a solid color, but it's really minute stripes of bright fall colors; red, yellow, orange, and even blue. It's really nifty up close.

I have visions of all kinds of seasonal wreaths hanging from that shelf . . . Christmastime wreaths with holly, ivy, evergreen branches and touches of gold; Winter wreaths with white, blue and silver, sparkling with iridescent glitter; Springtime with cheery pastel flowers and long blades of grass, and maybe a bird's nest or two; Valentine wreaths with sweet deep red rosebuds . . . and I could go on and on. ;o) And do you know where I got the idea? Her name was Lucy.

I used to see Lucy in old Lillian Vernon catalogs; you know, those thick little books that were Wal-Mart in your mailbox? I loved those things. They had strange things I'd never use, (t-shirts that read "Old Fart", or example), funny things (t-shirts that said "I may be Opinionated, but I'm Always Right!), lovable things (tiny dollhouse furniture, miniatures of just about everything--including a glow-in-the-dark nativity I bought in 6th grade), and those "never knew I couldn't live without it until I saw it in there" items like fuzzy foot warmers and change counting/sorting/rolling banks.

So, go out there and do something creative, will you? And if you already have, blog it, and send me a link. I'd love to see what the changing seasons have sparked in you!

Jugs

A la Isabelle, via Thimbelanna, via Cami.




Like Isabelle, I don't have a large collection. However, I have wanted to collect pitchers for some time. I love their shape and the incredible variety in which they appear.

The basin and pitcher on the left is a St. Helen's Ashware piece I found on the Oregon Coast. (No . . . as much as I would have loved to have found it on the beach, it was at a gift shop. ;o) I love the creamy brown swirls and the refined and feminine lines.

The pitcher on the right is a discontinued Noritake piece I found at a local craft faire. There were all kinds of fun found objects, old signs and antique books (of which I bought a few--can't resist beautifully bound, tiny books), and this beautiful china piece. I love the botanical transfer (the opposite side shows an olive branch; just beautiful), and the way the delicate handle manages to balance the mass of the jug itself by its wide sweep.

Oh, wait! I forgot one . . .



A mystery piece from eBay, I still love it.



I'm a sucker for form and line, and pitchers definitely have both. :o)

Maybe I'm Just Backward

I never really seem to want to clean in the Spring, when you're "supposed" to Spring Clean. Well, I mean, I do want to. I imagine sparkling windows and dust-free nooks and crannies, open windows and fresh air breezing through the house as I disturb all of the winter's accumulated dust.

But it's darn cold in the Spring.

This year, it stayed winter-jacket-needed-for-pulling-weeds-cold until June. June! (Needless to say, with the successive heat waves during July, August and early September, and the sudden onset of knife-edge crisp Autumn weather in mid-September, I'm feeling seriously gypped. Where did my mild seasonal transitions go? I got maybe six days total since January.)

While it's not quite as bitingly cold now, I at least have that programmed need for frenzy at this time of year. It's the time of year that you scurry around and get new clothes and shoes and coats and all for everyone before school starts since there are tons of great sales going on, and when you tidy up the yard, and don't have to mow anymore (Vern dearly loves this time of year ;o), and you can turn your attention to more indoors. Time to feather the nest, bring out the russet and deep orange and brown deckings. The forest around here turns a deeper green than summer, and the mountains start to show golden among the green.

And I start to feel like doing something again.

So here's what I did today:



Beautiful, isn't it?

What was that? . . . . Oh? . . . . You say you don't see anything but a builder-white corner of the ceiling? But that's it, darling. It's white!

While taking a damp rag to the wall (lower down, below the left side of the photo) in order to make sure it was ready for my oldest to get to work patching the myriad tie-tack holes and scratches he put there a while back (why is it that boys are so fascinated with how they can use new acquisitions to destroy customize their surroundings?), I got to looking around, and went after some cobwebs and dust up in the corner. And then I saw them.

Remember this? Yep. Teal strikes again. This time, it was small crayon strikes on the ceiling. Don't ask me how my oldest got them there . . . although I have my suspicions. (A nice, springy bed is directly underneath that very spot.) So, I spent some time with the Dawn and dish scrubber again, and got them off the ceiling.

As I was scrubbing, I realized the walls could use a wipe down, and so I got my trusty friend, and we went to work.



Yes, Swiffers are good for something other than sibling fights.

So, after attacking all the walls and wiping down the tops of the door trim (can I just say ICK!?), I'm feeling better, and I think it all looks better. Sure, you couldn't really see the dust before, but you would have been amazed at the color of the water after I rinsed out that brown washcloth you see above.

So, then I set the 8yo to work filling all of the holes and scratches. He seemed like he was doing pretty well, so I went on to other things. Namely, blogging. (It's good to sit after an upper body workout like I just did. ;o)



(lol. My almost-4-yo DS just came out looking worried and announced: "I jus' got smackle on my hand," holding out his left palm to show me a tiny white smudge. He then promptly went to "wash it wif LOTS of soap and wahter." Gotta love that little guy.)

So, as we've been trying to sell the house, and repeatedly scrambled to get ready for showings (of which we've had a fairly satisfactory number, considering the market) I've come to one solid conclusion: there's only one way to keep the house clean for any reasonable amount of time once I've finished.



Yep. (The TV went on to greener pastures, i.e. somewhere it will be watched.) The kids occasionally watch a DVD, or we have fun over at YouTube. Mostly, though, we listen to the radio on it. (Which is my favorite, because it doesn't interfere with blogging, et al. ;o)

And just so you're all reassured, I'm feeling better (finally!), and am beginning to get a hankering to knit on some socks. (As soon as I can look at the yarn without feeling nauseous, I'll be back in action.)

A trip back to the Playground

At least in politics, that is.

This morning, the feed update for Jane was a link to this. It's a review of her book, The Gentle Art of Domesticity. Feel free to go read the review, if you'd like. I'll wait . . .

I did leave a comment, but to save you the effort of scanning through all of them, here 'tis.

Funny, isn't it, how when someone is terribly, terribly good in the very area where our insecurities and hidden guilt lie, that we lash out at them? Derision and scorn are unbecoming, Ms. Hunt. Never once has Mrs. Brocket claimed perfection; nor has she ever made efforts to pretend to it. She has shared what she enjoys, and that in which she has chosen to excel.

The villification of women who choose a path counter to the modern, mainstream feminist ideal is so tiring, not to mention misdirected. Why not focus on feminist topics that will actually help women, instead of throwing punches at your own? Women like Brocket are not the enemy. Classification, the narrowing of what is acceptable for women to choose, condemnation of women who choose differently . . . those are the bane of modern women.

If Mrs. Brocket bothers you so much, it's clear that you have issues of your own that need addressing.



You know, Ms. Hunt's kind of "feminism" Really Bugs Me. The whole feminist movement began because women were restricted and tightly controlled by society. The supposed goal was to liberate women from the confines of social strictures, and allow them more freedom to pursue their talents and interests. It has been a seriously rough road, and I reap the benefits of decades of fighting for equality under the law and in the eyes of society. And yet there are still people who, like Ms. Hunt, villify women who make their own choices.

The second to last paragraph here states one of my most treasured truisms of my chosen path. I respect Jane's copyright, and her request to not be directly quoted, so please do follow the link and scroll down. Whether women choose to write, cook, drive truck, bake, knit, build houses, explore the sciences, teach higher math, or whatever other avenue is now open to all human beings regardless of sex, we shouldn't be derisive of one another. We each search for our own happiness in our own way . . . and it's clear that Hunt herself still has quite a bit of hunting to do before she finds her own peaceful destination.

Just for the record: Ravelry Update

I love being able to keep track of how far I am up the list over time, so here's another snapshot of where I am in line:

Found you!

• You signed up on August 7, 2007
• You are #23725 on the list.
• 2883 people are ahead of you in line.
• 14240 people are behind you in line.
• 54% of the list has been invited so far

Hmmm . . . how long do you think it will be? A week? 10 days? Two months?