Petunia rambles on and on….

So goes my life – a downward spiral, down the hopper, funnier every day, if you’re the sort that laughs at large-scale natural disasters of all kinds.

I had a thought the other night.  Odd event, I know, but thinking it didn’t stun me into forgetting it. 

All of us are aging and as we do, we often take more and more medications every day.  I have a routine at bedtime where I take calcium supplements, and cholesterol pills and something to help me sleep.  Pop, too, goes through his routine to cure what ails him, as do most of us.  And while I was in the kitchen, doling out the tablets from all their little bottles, my dog is right there with me, dancing about a bit, ever hopeful that some tasty tidbit will fall her way – after all, I’m in the kitchen where food is prepared.  This dog is a shameless thief, will steal right off the counters, steal your sandwich off your plate while you’re putting the mayonnaise away.  She is a large, or rather, a tall dog.  A Standard Poodle.  When she’s up on her hind legs, she’s damn near as tall as me.  And, well, she’s often up on her hind legs, looking for goodies, getting into trouble.  So I’m thinking, “Damn dog, get out of the way.  Hey, watch it, you’re gonna knock these pills down, and I’m gonna be on my hands and knees, crawling around trying to find them.”  And my thought-process wandered over to, “What if she got one of these pills?  Calcium wouldn’t hurt her, if she accidentally got one.  Don’t know what the cholesterol meds might do.  Sleeping pills, they could be dangerous, that much into her small body weight.”  And I started mentally going through different kinds of preparations that are usually kept on hand in most homes, things that could be dropped and that this damn stupid dog would gobble down without a thought.  Acetaminophen/Tylenol, no problem, I suppose.   Denture glue — ha, that might keep her jaws shut; could be a good thing.   I’m starting to enjoy this line of thought.    Ipecac, we keep it in the house because we have curious toddlers.  Eww, that would be disgusting.    LAXATIVES, the famous EZ-POOP!!!    Oh, God.   And I had this vision of the dog getting a few pills, and all of us having to go out to work early in the morning, and…….

An imagination is not always a benefit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yesterday was my usual day to pick up the fellows from Day Care, as their mommy works late.  Bundled them into the back seat, sending one across to the other side, to the other car seat.  My thought is to get the both of them “contained” as quickly as possible, to minimize the possibility of them getting away from me in a busy parking lot.  “Up you go, boys.  Sir, get in your seat while I buckle your brother in over here.”   Apparently, one twin had other ideas, and I think they involved high-jacking my wheels and joyriding around town, maybe picking up “older women” – ones out of diapers.

We finally got home after the guys calling out to me, “Right turn, right turn, right turn, green light, left turn.”   I’m busy teaching them Green means Go, Red means Stop, and Left/Right recognition.  This is important  for them to know, and at this age, they soak up knowledge like little sponges.  It also will postpone my having to admit to the rest of the family that I’m dazed, confused, lost and can’t find my way home anymore.  “Boys, which way?”

As we’re getting out of the vehicle, I spotted our next-door neighbor outside on his side yard.  A lovely older man with medical issues, so we don’t often see him outdoors.  There had been a small depression in the ground, and he was filling it in with dirt, very small shovelfuls at a time, to prevent anyone from falling or twisting an ankle.  I got both boys out of the car, and squatted down to speak to them.  I reminded them of some other lessons we have been talking about, and things to say.  We “rehearsed” a bit, right there in the driveway, and then I took them by the hands and went over.   And then Nicholas looked up and said, “How do you do, Mr. James?” and proffered his hand for a handshake.  Perhaps Mr. James didn’t understand the speech characteristics of a 2 year old, but he understood clearly a gentleman offering a hand in friendship, and responded immediately, as gentlemen do.  Then Alex mumbled his greeting, and stuck his hand out.  Mr. James beamed, and shook a second small hand.  And the boys were very proud of themselves.   And ran to tell their Pop, when he came home, that they shook hands with Mr. James over there in that house, pointing wildly.    There are some very good moments in this life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jimps

First, it’s Jim’s birthday. 1970 was a long time ago, a different world back then. So many changes in many aspects of my life. So many times. One of the constants in my life, one of the centering forces has been Jim. Yes I have other children, younger, 2 wonderful ones, but before they came along, things were rough, and many times for many reasons, I could have just “thrown in the towel.” Except. Motherhood is a powerful thing, and on the day when you’re ready to give up, instead, you get up and do for your child, because he needs you to. That’s just the way we are. Maybe, when I was young, I didn’t even know that about myself. Maybe he taught me that I have strengths and reserves I didn’t know I had (heh, maybe they’re about depleted by now). His presence, his needs as a boy, kept me going. He’s been there for me, too many times to count. When there was not a damn thing he could do about a given situation but give me a hug, he was there to do that. There are no words.

Cigarettes

I am pleased to report that I’ve been smoke-free for a full year today. Having started smoking as a young teenager and consistantly smoking my entire adult life (a whole lot of years here), this is quite an achievement, and I’m damn proud of myself. When our doctor, husband’s and mine, strongly recommended, for real and current reasons, that we stop ASAP, we were given a medication as an aid. The directions advised us to pick a date to quit, and start taking the pills 8 days before. On the 8th day you will stop smoking. Yeah, right, and dollar bills will fly out my ass and I’ll buy us all South Sea Islands. Right. Ha, ha. Looking at a calendar, I saw that Jim’s birthday was soon approaching, and I picked that date, one I wouldn’t forget. So we started taking the medication and by the 6th day, I was lighting, and then putting out, cigarettes, finding I didn’t like them. I didn’t quit — the meds did it for me. I am smoke-free, and damn glad of it. And as I reported to Pop tonight, I calculated up the average amount that we used to spend on cigarettes, a horrendous damn figure, and each month, that amount has gone as an extra payment against our mortgage. It did not just “get absorbed” back into the budget, as could so easily have happened. It did not get spent on yarn!! Oh, to be sure I’ve bought yarn, but not until after I made that fat payment. And let me tell anyone with a mortgage, that can make a hell of a difference.

Easter

My grandsons, the older two, brought me a hyacinth for Easter. It was just starting to bloom so I got to see it all!! They only saw the first few at the bottom open up. Maybe their dad will show them how pretty it looked when it all opened up. And the fragrance is so light, delicate. Thank you, gentlemen, and thanks for the help you gave on Saturday.

 

Knitting Stuff

Those not interested are excused.

After several years of getting up off my ever-widening butt and going out to the kitchen to get a pair of scissors every time I need to cut yarn, I finally rectified this idiocy. It’s gone on way too long because:

• I have scads of good sewing scissors, all in storage.
• I have pinking shears, scalloping shears, and probably at some point, bought scissors that would cut out wee leprechauns.
• I was an embroiderer, cross-stitch, antique sampler reproduction, open work, hardanger, all of which require another set of scissors, and all of them are pointy, very pointy. The ones for doing hardanger are like needles.
• It seemed rather offensive in some way to buy MORE scissors.
• Pointy scissors are dangerous. They poke thru whatever you put them into.
• They attack your fingers when you get near them, putting you off your knitting for days. Daughter once jumped onto her bed, forgetting she had left a pair of embroidery scissors there. She probably still has the scar on her knee, where the point was embedded.
• We have a set of almost 3-year old twins in the household, and you just can’t be too careful with the safety of wee ones.

While every one of these reasons has merit, laziness and age won out.

I picked these little darlings up in the local craft store. They are suitable for small twins to use, but I will prevent their even touching them with my life think they are too young for cutting. Blunt points will not, yea, can not injure AND they even have a nose-snood as further protection. I can put them into my cheap  clear plastic knitting goodie bag and they won’t poke 9 holes by morning. However, my butt will be broader. Those jogs out to the kitchen were the only exercise I got some days. (It’s a damn shame I often came back with a bowl of ice cream, too, though)

Anyway.

Finished Object

 

 

Claudia Hand Painted, Peppermint Mocha, from The Loopy Ewe, who also stocks the sock blocker

Size 2 KnitPicks 47″ circular, worked two at a time, Magic Loop

These were worked toe-up, my method of choice, and I’m sure glad I did. I would prefer more cuff, but I worked it to where I had less than an arm-length of yarn left. Fortunately, the 2 balls I worked with were almost identical length. 60 stitches for my skinny feet, a bit of K4, P2 across the uppers, with a cable bit to keep me from falling asleep and killing myself with those pointy (wonderful) KnitPicks needles. I’ve done toe-up before, often 2 on 2 circs, but this was the first attempt at Magic Looping two at a time. For the initial set-up, I found a great set of directions. Because my brain is shrinking with age, I put a link to it on my “Don’t Forget Where This Stuff Is” page – Wonderful helpful things on the net.

As mentioned before, I’m in love with the colorway, and the way those cables pop up! The bind off is one recommended by Wendy of WendyKnits. Knit 2, slip them back onto left needle, K2tog, K1, slip 2 back onto left……… Makes a bit of a lettuce-y flutter at the top, but that’s what gives it it’s super stretch, the flutter lessens when actually on a human leg, and it rarely ever shows under pants. And if it does, it’s a special design element, provided by Wendy!!

More Knitting

For a travelling project, there’s more sock

 

�� 

These are for Pop. I don’t know if that was my intent when I ordered the yarn, Cherry Tree Hill in Mariner’s Compass. Maybe it was because of the two large boxes full of yarns that arrived here a while back, one day apart, and the look on his face, but I grabbed out this, and said, “Look, dear, at the manly color for your socks.” Whew, snuck out of that one with a little bit of grace. Anyway, the yarn is Supersock DK, it’s already on that super-long Size 2 (US) needle. I weighed the skein on a gram scale, and first cranked half of it off onto the ball winder, then the other half to another ball, insuring that I’ll get maximum usage of this beautiful yarn with little left over. I started out with 24 stitches, and I’ve probably got it up to about 40 stitches. When it looks nearly right, I’ll corner him and make him try it on. Oh, you know what he said when I showed him how well the colorway was working up?? (like he really cares about that. Comfort, yes. Attractive colorway, no) He says, “What I really need is covers for my golf clubs, for my putters! To keep them clean.” And he’s looking at my Cherry Tree Hill. Aghast! I tell you, I was aghast. I’ve got old acrylic around here somewhere (or in that damn storage locker) that would be perfect, dear. In a manly color. Just the perfect yarn.

The first bit of “good” is that I have to work. (NOT)  With my job, there’s no such thing as closing for the holidays, or weekends, or blizzards – or really anything.  Oh, well, I knew all this when I came in the door the first time.

Random Thoughts

I suspect that, were I to get a ladder, lean it up against my SUV and get up where I can study it’s roof, I would see a target painted on it, a large bull’s eye.  While I haven’t done that yet, I know that every damn bird in the state has seen that target, and I’m starting to think that birds are flying over here from New Jersey just to shit on my lovely red-roofed vehicle.  Even this I wouldn’t mind; I don’t suppose I would even know.  It’s the shit running down the window glass that bothers me. 

Spring has officially sprung in the northern hemisphere.  It should be warmer.  It is not, and oddly, there is a possibility of snow tomorrow.  As we usually get only 3-5 snowy days per winter, it’s pretty weird to get snow in Spring.  I would rather have daffodils.

Last night after dinner, I got an urge to take a walk, and tried to talk Pop into going with me.  (These “urges” hit more often now with Daylight Saving Time)  He is usually disinclined for these jaunts – he has a “physically active” job and is an old fart has no need or desire to get any more exercise on his day off.  The opposite is true for me.  I have a sit-down job, and lately, have more to sit down on.  That’s another story.  He was taking the trash out.  When he came back in, he told me that it wasn’t too cold out and the wind had died down and yes, he would indeed take a walk with me.  After I got up off the floor, and put on my coat, out we went.  And quickly got hit with cold and wind.  Apparently, the wind had only died down within the 10 feet or so between our side door and our trash can.  We would have had a lovely walk together if we’d stayed really near the south side of the house, which apparently was serving as a wind-block.  We could have marched back and forth, maybe 6 steps one way, about face, 6 steps the other way.   But we soldiered on because we’re both idiots, unwilling to admit how cold we were until we were a good distance from the house.

I remembered the camera and got this.

Shadows become very long near sundown, or I’m really 42 feet tall.  Wee bit of shadow to the far right is Pop, trudging on ahead of me through the wind, hoping his ears will survive the homeward trek.  He’s not gonna stop for my stupid picture taking of a damn shadow on the ground!

And I also got this, which gives me hope – 

 

There is a chance that soon, the weather will be warm and STAY warm; not just these little “tease” afternoons.  Maybe, just maybe, Pop will agree to walk again.

Tomorrow all will gather for the Moving of the Goods.  I’m sure several of the troops probably would prefer it if I remained at home, cooking, knitting, spinning, staying out of the way, keeping my mouth shut.  It probably is the smartest idea.  Better for my nerves and theirs if I stay in the kitchen where I know what I’m doing.

Somewhere, up above, my mother is making the pineapple-and-whipped-cream frosted cake that she made almost every year of my life for Easter.  Probably almost every year of her life!  She used a chiffon cake, sometimes home-made and sometimes purchased.  Several grocery chains sold an Orange Chiffon Cake, baked in a tube pan, that was as good as any you could make at home, and easier at a time when you already had a million chores.  The frosting was simple.  On the day before, she put a can of crushed pineapple AND its juice into a saucepan and added one large box of Vanilla Pudding mix.  This must be the old-fashion regular “to-be-cooked” sort, not the new Instant pudding that you just shake up.  Mix together and cook as you would for regular pudding, following the directions on the package.  Add NO additional liquid. Chill the mixture overnight.  When you’re ready to frost the cake, make 3 horizontal slices through the cake, cutting it into 4 equal layers.  Beat 8 oz of heavy whipping cream until thick, then gently fold it into the chilled pineapple/pudding mixture.  Use this to fill and frost the cake.  Assembling the cake several hours in advance of serving gives the cream a chance to soak into the cake.  Mom decorated the cake for holidays.  Way, way long ago, she did something with red and green for Christmas – I barely remember it.  It was the Easter cake that we all remember, that she continued to make.  She put a little bit of shredded coconut (maybe 2-3 tablespoons?) into a small custard cup with a few drops of green food coloring.  Tossed it around until the color was even, and then she sprinkled it on the top (only) of the frosted cake.  (This was the “grass”)  Then she scattered a handful of jelly beans on the “grass” to look like Easter eggs.  The cake and the holiday are so intertwined in my mind that I’m not sure it’ll really be Easter without Mom making that cake.

Another Harbinger of Spring

A damn dandelion.