So.

We are survived.

We are enmessed.

We are exhausted.

But -- we are here.


PS: What the heck sort of friends suggest taking valium when one is supposed to be driving 20 hours across the country? You guys are crazy crazy crazy.

Travel, Day 1 Complete

When I logged on, I thought I'd write about how valium worked like a charm on the cat. Or how we didn't leave until 11 am yesterday, and I was so tired from packing and cleaning the house. Or how we found a real steal of a motel room ($40, including pets!) . Or how a "real steal" actually means your money, considering the LOUD MUSIC AT 3 AM that the front desk girl said she couldn't do anything about. Or how the cat was fine during the night, but the dog whined and whined (may have had something to do with the [loose] cat choosing the top of the [not loose] dog's crate as the perfect hang out spot). Or how I'm not so sure the cat swallowed the valium this morning, but I can't find the pill anywhere, so I'm afraid to over-dose him, so today's travel with cat may not be so mellow.

Instead, I have to tell you that the rental truck doesn't have a way for us to plug in our iPods, so the Consort said he wanted to burn some music CDs to play in the CD slot of the truck. And what type of music does he choose to keep himself awake for this second, longer, day of travel? Vienna Teng! Her songs make him cry, people! She's not a heavy metal chick or rock queen, she's a balladeer!

I cannot believe this man.

Not For the Weak of Heart

Sorting through one's belongings for an extended time away is difficult. It would be so much easier if we were actually moving to NH. Because then we'd just pack everything up, and tell ourselves, "We'll go through these files on the other end. We'll have much more time, then!" (Which wouldn't be true, so that 3-in. stack of user manuals for appliances/electronics we no longer own? We'd still have it in our files six months down the line.)

So, okay, there is some good about this process. But what a pain in the ass. Thursday is looming, and I still have tons to do. And it doesn't help that, because of the miniscularity of our temporary summer digs, as well as of the house we'll be living in in town, I've got to make some harsh decisions. Like: We can't bring both the food processor and the blender. Which should it be? The food processor is much more versatile, except for pesto. (And how many times do we make pesto over the course of a year? Maybe 7? -- But still: pesto!)

We've also decided that it would be silly to bring our fondue pot. But what about our raclette grill? Sure, we only have one raclette a winter (that's enough of a cheese overload in itself), but quality of life, man! That's important, too. Isn't it?

No wedding china (makes sense), but no French onion soup crocks (which I often use for individual pot pies in the winter), either. No ice cream sundae coupes. No pasta maker. No waffle iron.

Very few books. (That's OK, we'll just buy more, and that's a plus.) No Christmas decorations (the Consort said something about "making a paper tree" -- I have no idea what he meant, and I really don't care to know, either).

We are, however, bringing the contents of the liquor cabinet. That's us, you know, *tap tap tap* using our noggin for the important stuff.



(And for the love of sanity, don't anybody mention the incredibly thick layer of dust there behind the bookshelf. I didn't even notice it until I was cropping the picture for this post. [And to be honest, that bookshelf is normally packed with books, so no one can see behind the books at all, under normal circumstances.].)

Finishing Up Loose Ends

Mizmell asked what pattern I used for my skirt. I used the Sew What! Skirts book I bought in the spring. About a month ago I bought some brown flowery print that caught my eye:

I washed and ironed the fabric, but then put it aside when things got busy. I really wanted to make an A-line skirt with it, to go with a brown t-shirt I got for myself. Here's the result:


I also finished up the secret things I planned to make with some quilted fabric. Remember that stuff?


They became casserole carriers, for our potluck buddies:


I really ought to get packing, but I detest packing. I did go through Trixie's room with her yesterday, so we've sorted out two big bags of trash, a large pile of recycling, and have made "to stay" and "to come" piles. I just have to box things up.

Then, I have to box up the office stuff I'll be taking. Yuck. I've voiced the wish that I could just blink my eyes and skip the next 10 days, and find myself in New Hampshire already. But the rest of the family think that living throught this week of Hell will be fun.

Clearly, they don't share genes with me, those loons.

PS: The FedEx man just delivered an envelope to our door. So I can now say, with no worries of any trickster gods hearing, that we have renters for our house. They'll be arriving in August for a one-year law clerkship. Yahoo! The only worry I have is that the house will be empty for six weeks. But everything should work out fine (crossing my fingers). Plus, they would prefer to bring as little as possible, so we'll be most likely leaving our dishes and our bed for them, as well as most other furniture. We'll have lots of garage sale-ing and thrift store shopping to do during the peak of garage sale season. How many people get a chance to redo their furnishings from scratch, I ask you? The adventure begins.....

Avoidance

I could say something about a situation, but I would prefer not to until I have the signed paper in hand. (Wouldn't want to count my chickens and all that).

I should be packing right now, but it's the Fourth of July. I think I'll make a skirt, instead.*




*Hey, it's not that random, you know: Once the skirt is made, I am officially done with any sewing for a while, so I can pack up whatever sewing stuff I plan to bring to New Hampshire. Which includes the sewing machine, because damned if I'm going to live in a white box for 12 months.

The Thing About Surprise Parties

Is that, in order to protect the secret, you end up having to act like a Grimm stepmother for a while.

When your child comes to you for comfort, mentioning that because of a July family move, they’re a bit sad that they won’t be able to celebrate their August birthday with their friends, you can only reply, Don’t be silly, you’ll have your cousins there.

When they mention that they’d love to have one last “playdate” with friends, but some of them are not around very much, because of summer camp, and visits to fathers, etc., you can only reply, Oh well, we tried our best, the scheduling just didn’t work out.

Then, the day of the party rolls around. And you can see your baby smile again.


And all the cold-hearted acting is over. (Thank goodness!)

Life Behind the Blog Posts

I’ve just taken a look at my list of entries for June, and I’ve been posting pretty regularly. That’s not a surprise; I try to post at least 3 times a week as a general rule.

However, except for some pretty flimsy mentions in passing, I haven’t talked about the Elephant in the Room. That may be due to the fact that I warned you all not to talk about it too much; I don’t know.

So, the sabbatical move. The Consort went out to New Hampshire two weeks ago, with the job of finding us a place to live for the next school year. He whittled it down to two, before dragging me (from a distance!) into it. Even though I told him I was happy with whatever he chose. But noooo – my life had to be stressed out as well. Urgh. House A cost twice as much per month as our mortgage here (keep in mind that a prof on sabbatical at Mr. Duck U receives 70% of their regular salary). It was available July 15, out in the woods, beside an apple orchard, came partially furnished, with a sunny office on the south side (important for the long snowy winters of NH), a counter island in the kitchen, a 45-minute bus ride (each way) to the school for the girls, so remote that we’d have to get another car for the Consort to be able to get to his office without stranding me, and too far out for anything but dial-up internet (remember, I need to keep working during this year adventure). House B (faculty housing) cost one and a half times as much per month as our mortgage. It was in town, across the street from the middle school both girls would attend, on the bus line into town, near the town pond and bike paths, beside the Connecticut River (for exploration adventures), wired for cable internet, came unfurnished, was available September 1 (school begins August 29), and was small (how small? When the Consort said it didn’t come with a dishwasher, I replied, “that’s OK, we can buy a used portable dishwasher for the—” “No, it’s too small for a portable dishwasher,” he interrupted) (another example: He took the camera with him, so he could take pictures for the girls and I to be able to see where we might live. He took. not. one. single. picture). He couldn’t make up his mind. He came home. Those two days after he returned were hell. We talked. And talked. Trixie was looking forward to living in the woods and taking a long bus ride to school. Impera told us in no uncertain terms, “You may not realize this, but I’m a city girl, you know.” (At least we knew whatever decision we made, we’d be able to fulfill the Parental Imperative and make somebody unhappy.) We’d decide to come to a decision, and within the 15 minutes before discussing it, we’d each change our minds three times.

In the end, we chose to be reasonable about the whole thing and take House B, in town and tiny. This was disappointing because I had visions of hosting friends and relatives in a cottage in the woods. But! Considering the savings, we will be able to do more fun adventuring than we would have, otherwise.

The second part of this sabbatical move is getting our house rented out. I put together a blog with pictures and descriptions of the house and rooms. I created a list of links to local businesses. I took out an ad in our city’s paper. It cost me 69 bucks for a tiny 4-line ad (hence the decision to provide a Web link with lots of detail). I put a free ad up on our local craigslist. This experience, by the way, has taught me that newspaper ads are completely last-century. I got two phone calls from the ad, and neither panned out. We have gotten close to ten contacts of interest from the craigslist ad!

Now, I am a listmaker, I am a preparer. To find myself, two and a half weeks from our desired departure date still without the house rented out (and still calm about it!) is very unlike my preferred style of being. I’m OK, for the most part, although I have burst into tears at random times, with the Consort and Impera telling me everything will work out fine.

The Powers That Be do seem to enjoy serendipity. For example, did you notice that we picked the house with a September 1 move-in date? Hmmm, July 15 to September 1—that’s six weeks. Well, it so happened that on the day that the Consort was flying back to Iowa from the house hunt, his sister (who lives near where we’ll be in NH) received 30 days notice from one of her tenants (she owns a big house split into several apartments, lives in one of the apartments, and rents out the other 2 or 3). She’s offered to let us rent her empty apartment over the 6 weeks we’ll be “homeless.” See? Serendipity.

The households who have shown interest in renting our house are quite a hodgepodge. There’s the new prof who would like to rent it, but needs to find a roommate (there’s another new prof who might be the second renter, but he’s been “out in the field” and unreachable right now). There’s the campaign organizer who has folks needing a place to live at least through the Iowa caucuses (that’s in January, and we’d like to find someone to rent our place for the entire time we’ll be gone). There’s the Army recruiter and his family who came over to look this morning and need a place starting July 9. There’s the law student and spouse who are thinking about renting the place sight-unseen (they live several states away) for their clerkship year coming up. There’s the med student and spouse who will be coming for a viewing this weekend.

One of these is going to work out. Right? (On second thought—don’t answer that.)

Anyway, that’s what’s been going on, behind the blog posts.

Consumer Yearnings

Sometimes I become obsessed with the most cockamamie products.

For example, who doesn't need a soymilk maker:


Ooooh! Shiny! But, it also makes almond milk -- for medieval cookery recipes, of course (which I make, what?, once a year at most?). And porridge. I've always liked the sound of the word, "porridge".

There's also the whole massage table desire. If we had one, I'm sure I could teach the girls to give massages, and then we can trade giving a massage for getting a massage (the girls love massages!).


Ahhhhhh, massaaaaaaaaaahge.

And what better time to purchase useless items like this than just before we go spend a year in a tiny (yet centrally located) rental, halfway across the known world?

Calling All Cat Lovers

This cute little kitty's been hanging around our neighborhood lately:

He's quite a sweetie. Loki doesn't mind sharing the backyard with him, and he's very friendly. (Note in that first picture, he's right at our front door.) When he's hungry, though, he lets you know! I was under the impression that he was owned by the neighbors. It seems, however, that the Consort believed the kids when *they* said the kitty was theirs. I checked with the adults in the house, and they said, "Nope, not ours." (Note to self: Your spouse is way too trusting of others.) I have never done this before, but late last week I gave in and put some food for him on the porch when he let me know through the window that he needed something to eat:

I think he's probably about 6 months old. The Consort thinks he's an adult, but, being a verifiable alley cat, has stayed on the small side. The girls want to keep him, but for two reasons, I said "No." #1: I made a rule a long time ago that we'd only have one of any type of pet. (In the Consort's family, there were always tons of pets. My MIL, as a dog breeder, has more dogs than you can count -- and that's just the house dogs.) #2: We'll be leaving on sabbatical soon, and it's already going to be a squeeze driving out East with a dog who hates car rides, a cat who'll be zonked out with valium (I've already got the pills), and a rabbit.

But this one's really adorable. Anybody want a cat? (Cate?.........)

Summer Adornment

I’m not a big wearer of jewelry (although I love to look at jewelry) because, like makeup, it seems like such a good idea but I don't have long-lasting follow-through (you know, taking off the makeup every evening, or taking the time to put it on in the morning; or, taking an earring off because you’re on hold on the phone and it pokes the side of your neck and then forgetting where you placed it [because you pace when you’re on the phone] and hoping it’ll turn up when you clean the house, … that sort of thing).

In the summer, though, with décolletés (I’m a big fan of turtlenecks in cold weather) and fun times out in public, I usually get a fresh burst of jewelry-wearing craving. Four years ago, in early summer, in those first few weeks of summer break when I worry that the girls were getting bored, we went to the local bead shop, picked a packet of glass beads and made ourselves summer necklaces:


It was a fun afternoon craft, and all three of us did wear those necklaces pretty much every day that summer. The variety of colors ensured that our necklaces would go with most anything we wore.

Two years later, the girls reminded me of the fun we had making necklaces, and could we do it again? Sure! We visited the same bead shop, and decided to make necklaces with our names on them. We each chose the beads and colors of our preference, and came up with this:


(Note to self: Those “organic” shaped stone beads are poky on your neck. Don’t chose those again!) We wore these most of the summer, too, although the first necklaces made an appearance now and again.

Last year it was my turn to remember the fun and ask the girls if they wanted to make a 2006 edition summer necklace. Yay! They did. The theme we chose last year was to use the same background beads on all three, but individualize the decorative ones:


Now we’ve got three summer necklaces, and although I wanted to have a 2007 summer edition, I worried that if my choices got too varied, I’d be back in the typical jewelry quandary (i.e., choice, which equals wasting time when getting dressed [I admit to a rather strong lazy streak]).

By chance, I stumbled on the Etsy site of Kathryn Reichert. Have you ever Etsy’d? I often follow links to Etsy vendors, but I had never purchased anything. (I think Etsy is a great idea, don’t get me wrong, I just often have a hard time justifying spending money [good thing I work from home and don’t have to purchase work clothes, etc.) Her simple silver posey rings intrigued me. I showed the girls the site, and they thought getting rings this year instead of necklaces was a dandy idea. And hey! We could create our own message for the rings! First, we thought we’d go with words like Adventure, Wander, or Quest. But then, after a look in the thesaurus, and a subsequent Web search, we decided to go with some classical Greek terms:


Trixie and I chose Arete, which represents the idea of “living fully” or “living up to your full potential”. Impera chose Aristeia, which is the classical notion of “a warrior’s prowess or excellence” (she is a proponent of the idea of strong women who do That Which Is Just, you know?). Kathryn, if you read this: Thank you! We are so happy with our first Etsy purchase. Everybody else: Go take a look at her offerings, and check out that bottom picture on the posey ring page, your order comes wrapped in vibrant ribbon – the package looks beautiful even before you see your jewelry.

Out of Sorts

I'm still here! But this week is feeling out of sync. The Sabbatical dread is kicking in, no matter how much I truly believe that we aren't behind in finding a renter here, finding a rental out there, etc. There are a few things I should have done by now (write a letter to the principal at the school the girls will be attending to make sure they're placed in appropriate level classes is at the top of my list; oh, and submit passport renewals) that I haven't done. There are too many errands that I need to do with the girls in this shortened week (get their hair cut, get prescription sunglasses for Impera & me, have the lawn mowed, have the house cleaned, etc.), and they've just gotten invited to spend the afternoon with friends. Should I be a mean mom and make them stay home and get some of these things done? I don't know.

I don't feel like I've got anything interesting to say. My mother's coming for a 6-day visit on Thursday (hence, the shortened week; everything has to be done by WEDNESDAY), and we all know how well *those* go for me. For all that I say I won't take things "the wrong way", everything is a judgment. It is.

I'm OK work-wise, but I know I'll get behind during the visit, and I don't have the time to "catch-up" beforehand this week.

I've goofed twice already this week with things I said that shouldn't have said, things I forgot that I shouldn't have forgotten. And believe me, my Internal Nag is not letting me forget it! Easy to say, "turn her off." I can't. Blech.

Stew has asked me some meme questions to answer, and I hope to get that done this evening. I'll have at least one good blog post this week then.

Sorry for the frazzling. Really, things aren't that bad. It just seems it.

Blech redux.

A Balanced Weekend

It's always a joy to have a weekend with the right balance of work and play. Being a list-maker type, I like to do the work part first, because then the work to be done doesn't weigh heavy on my mind. So, on Saturday morning, the Consort and I cleaned up the big room in the basement:

This is a weight off my shoulders, as it was one of the Big Chores that needed to be completed before we left for New Hampshire. Then, we celebrated the beautiful weather and Earth Day (one day early; I always think of it as April 21, because the solstices occur on the 21st of their respective months) by taking a walk in the woods. We followed a trail we hadn't taken before, and ended up at the Des Moines River, where we played in the mud, in the water, and climbed fallen trees:



Impera pointed out a bald eagle to all of us, too.

On Sunday, I went through winter clothes and summer clothes with the girls, we cycled our wardrobes to the correct season, and collected three large plastic bags of clothes to donate to the Salvation Army. In the evening, we had friends over for potluck.

It was a good weekend.

“Are You Pregnant Yet?”

When the Consort convinced me that we were grown up enough to start trying to get pregnant, we told those close to us. We told our housemates (because we needed to make sure it would be OK with them if we added a baby to the mix of 5 adults), and we told our family.

It took about six months of trying to conceive. Which, really, isn’t very long, all things considered. But some things considered, it was a terribly long half-year.

Telling our housemates was useful; because we took turns doing all the chores, including cooking, everyone got into the pre-pregnancy and peri-pregnancy eating rules (remind me one day to tell you all about the Brussels sprout week; ugh). We were all young, and although our housemates were excited about the potential pregnancy, no one (other than the Consort and I) was invested in getting a baby out of the deal.

Our parents, on the other hand, were. I began to dread answering the phone because, likely as not, I’d be asked whether there was any news to report. The mothers were just so darned excited about the possibility of grandchildren (the fruit of our loins would be the first grandchild on either side). I didn’t really worry that there was anything wrong with me, but having to say, week in and week out, that, no, I wasn’t pregnant yet, got old fast.

I’ve remembered that six month period lately because I’m starting to feel the same way about our not yet having found a place to live out in New Hampshire. It was so exciting to tell people about our decision to spend next year in NH. But now, I dread meeting some of these people out and about. When I go to the chiropractor’s, she asks, “Are your New Hampshire plans gelling?” Uhhhh, no, nothing’s changed since I came in last week—but we have decided which school district we want to live in, and that narrows it down significantly! When I chat with the middle school librarian and the other mother who helps me with the lunch bunch book chats on Thursdays, they ask, “So, do you have a house yet?” Nah, ’s too early, I say. But they look at me doubtfully. They think I’m being cavalier; their frowns tell me I’m not taking this seriously enough in their view.

But I am! It’s just that… I have yet to meet a landlord who in April is trying to rent out their house for a July 1 start date (well, except for us, that is*). My sister-in-law sent the Consort a bunch of online listings last night, and they all had March 15 or April 15 lease starts (plus they didn’t allow pets and the rents were—gulp!—three times our current mortgage payments).

Our Spring/early Summer schedule isn’t helping much, though. I really want the Consort to be the one to go on the house-hunting trip because he grew up in that area and would be able to triangulate any potential living place’s location with the places we need to be near (NH is all mountainy and foresty, and I have never been able to wrap my brain around how one can head east out of town and end up in the village to the west of where you started). However, he’ll be in Nicaragua for the latter two weeks of May, and he’ll probably be off to a conference in NYC at the end of June (this was a shock to me because until this morning, I thought the conference was at the beginning of June).

So, we’re planning to send him out there at the beginning of June (that jives with what a realtor friend of my SIL said would be the best time to go looking, too). That’s more definite than getting pregnant ever could be. (And if we still can’t find anything, we can live in my MIL’s RV until we do. Hah!)

*A new hire at the University has emailed back and forth with the Consort about coming to see our place. It’s just him and his dog, though, so our house may be a bit too big and costly for him. We’re pushing the “find a roommate” idea. Yesterday, the Consort came home to tell me the man was coming to town tomorrow to apartment-hunt, and would like to take a look at our place. Good thing I have nothing on my desk right now, because I need to make like a tornado and clean this place up today!

Sharing Random Weekend Thoughts: Updated with Randomness #6

1. Easter was fun, if a little cold. Where by "little" I mean that all the bulb flowers in the neighborhood are officially dead, their almost-opened buds, stems, and big fat leaves flopped over in a freeze death. The blossoms on the pear trees are most probably dead, too. And it seems that the apples may not make it, either. Considering we'll be gone during the pear and apple season this year, and that whoever rents our place won't be into harvesting our pesticide-free gnarly-lookin' pears and apples, this is probably a good thing. But it's sad to see, nonetheless. (We may get snow tonight and Tuesday.)

2. The hunt was held indoors:

Notice the regimented organization of the loot (this is the only way we can make sure that all the eggs have been found.) Although the girls are too old for it, they got bubble solution, jump ropes, and silly putty. I was proven wrong about the silly putty -- they played with it all afternoon. And the loot has to be split four ways, even though there are only two hunters (so although there was much loot, it's not as excessive as may seem).

3. Many of the decorated eggs were eaten:


4. The Consort and I realized yesterday that when we return from sabbatical, Impera will have ONLY FOUR MORE years with us before she goes off to college -- FOUR measly years! I am NOT ready. The Consort said he now understands why parents urge their kids to start producing grandkids: Once you have your own, you kind of get addicted to having little ones around!

5. We can no longer ignore the fact that our cat is a junkie:

Can you see that? (You may have to see the large version of the picture.) The Consort put up a box of chicken wire around the catnip, because last spring without it the cat chewed the plant down to nubbins. It worked like a charm last year: he'd chew at whatever growth came up above the chicken wire. This year, after a few weeks of sneaking his paw under the box to drag a bit of catnip out, he's weakened the structure enough that he can stick his whole head under the wire to chew voraciously at the drug.

Crazy.

6. Alanis Morissette doing My Humps. How random is that?

Secret Pal 10

Dear Secret Pal,

Welcome! Please, make yourself comfortable. This is my third round of Secret Pal, and you can see how I’ve answered the questionnaire for Round 8 and Round 9. You can also browse the labels Secret Pal and Exploits in Crafting (I've just made the switch to New Blogger, so the back-labeling thing has been a bit of a pain). I’ll try to incorporate any changes in the questionnaire in this letter.

As you will soon notice, we are planning to spend the upcoming school year in lovely New Hampshire. The Consort will be spending his sabbatical year (he teaches university) writing a book, and, both of us being East Coasters, we have been missing real mountains, so figured this was a good way to get our mountain “fix”. Our two girls, however, have adopted the Midwest (despite both having been born in California, and having lived in New Jersey and North Carolina in their wee days), and they consider the upcoming year as The End of The World As They Know It (And It Ain’t Fine) (not really, they’re starting to come around). I said “As you will soon notice,” because, although I haven’t yet talked about this on the blog, I am starting to freak out about the mechanics of the move. We have to CLEAN THIS PLACE UP (meaning, mostly, ALL THE CLOSETS AND THE BASEMENT, OH, AND THE LIBRARY, AND THE LIVING ROOM AND THE KITCHEN) so we can rent it out while we’re gone, we have to FIND A PLACE TO LIVE IN NEW HAMPSHIRE (this may be a bit of a problem because the landlords have to BE OKAY WITH A DOG, A CAT, AND A RABBIT), we have to GET THE GIRLS REGISTERED FOR SCHOOL OUT THERE, making sure that THEY CAN KEEP UP WITH THE PROGRAMS THEY HAVE STARTED HERE.

Yes, and let's not forget WE HAVE TO FIND RENTERS FOR OUR HOUSE!

Phew! Sorry for shouting; like I said, I’m starting to worry a bit.

Anyway, this means that I’m having to rethink my upcoming knitting. So I will give you my wishlist, but I’m seeing this wishlist sort of like the Christmas list you make up when you’re six years old, and it’s 67-items long, and Santa probably won’t bring you anything on it anyway, because, really, at six years old you don’t quite understand the concepts of “excess” and “decadence”, and “living within your parents’ means”, but the fun part is writing it out in all its glory. Yes? Okay, here goes:

I would like to own a ball winder. I know nothing about brands, quality, things to look out for, but I did notice this one, which was on sale last time I looked.

I have purchased the Simple Knitted Bodice pattern. But I don’t have the yarn. They suggest Tilli Thomas, but that stuff is $38 per skein, and there is NO WAY I would ever wear something that cost that much in materials; so I’d totally be expecting a different yarn choice. It looks like I’m right between the size L and XL, and I would make the long-sleeved version. In olive (because I have no imagination) or maybe a dark blue – a lapis lazuli-type color? And, I'm totally not into sequins. Crystal beads, yes, sequins, no.

I also have the Winter 2006 Interweave Knits, which I got because of the Nantucket Jacket on the cover. I’d want to make it long-sleeved (it’ll be chilly in NH!), so I’d need more yarn than they say, and I’m thinking, oh, how about a nice Cinnamon Stick color (like I said, no imagination), but again, a different yarn selection would be perfectly fine (I’d be making it in the 46.5 version).

I really like the idea of socks, but mine are always a bit big. I would love to do a toe-up pattern, if you know of a good one.

I’d also like to try short-row heels (I’ve only ever done heel flaps).

Of course, sock yarn to go with these patterns would be swell!

Do you have any idea of what I could do with one skein of worsted lorna’s laces?

Oh, by the way? I seem to be an extremely slow knitter. I started this sock on Super Bowl Sunday (February 4). I’m not even done with one! (Oh, and the Hogwarts colors? Not done on purpose.)


Although part of that is because I’m working on a lace-weight shawl (which I’m not going to post a picture of just yet). Doesn’t look like much yet, but, hey, I’m up to 236 stitches per row, and I started with 6.

Thank you for reading, and I look forward to SP 10.

How to ruin your daughter's day in one easy step

1. Tell her that her father's request for sabbatical for the 2007-2008 school year was accepted.

But! But... before you feel too sorry for her, let me share a few tidbits:

"This chapter was fabulous."["fabulous"!]

"I would definitely consider adopting this book for my course. I look forward to reading the entire finished product."

"I found the writing to be very clear and well organized."

"My overall opinion of this chapter is that it as an excellent and comprehensive presentation of the ... issue. I found that every issue that I spend time on in my class was covered in detail in this text and I appreciated the accurate and up-to-date presentation of the science behind [this issue]." ["excellent"!!]

These are some of the reviewer comments on the chapter the Consort prepared for a potential co-authored textbook in his field. The publisher called last week, and today they made plans for the Consort to fly out to NY to sign contracts [contracts!!!].

The co-author lives/teaches in New Hampshire. So we'll be spending sabbatical year in a college town in New Hampshire, surrounded by mountains [mountains!!!!], the Consort willl be a visiting scholar, writing the book, I will bring my clients with me (they just need to change the address on the Fed Ex label), and this will be fun fun fun!

I understand the girls' sadness, because just today, with my car in the shop, my friends came through and gladly shlepped the girls to their activities, and even offered to drive Trixie to school tomorrow morning (these are homeschoolers, so driving someone to school before 8 a.m. is a big deal, indeed!). But it will only be one year, and I hope that our temporary house will be filled with houseguests throughout our time there. New England is a beautiful place to visit, anytime!

And the girls will have fun, because their Grandma, two aunts and their cool spouses, plus three (soon to be four!) cousins live up there. Plus, I'm pretty sure there'll be fencing.

I will end here, as the celebratory wine has gotten me tipsy...