Little Victories & Simple Pleasures

Things have been hectic and down right nutty around here in recent weeks. Last Tuesday, my husband gave me a bit of a health scare that landed him in the hospital for a few days. He is fine now - went back to work today - and we don't anticipate any lasting effects but it did make for a long, tense week last week, which did not include any blogging (obviously) and very very little blog reading. I tell you this and beg the forgiveness of everyone whose comment I didn't acknowledge (I got them! Thank you) and anyone who's email I have failed to respond to this past week or two.


So the socks are done and the package is all packaged up. One finished sock on my foot. It is a bit snug, as she has much smaller feet, but I wanted to see it in action. Note the requested short cuffs. And let me say again, LOVE the Sherman Heel.


It should be noted that my husband voiced his objects to my tattoo making an appearance in this picture. I did end up cropping it out but not because of the tattoo....because of my hairy legs. (TMI? Sorry. My internal filter is apparently on the fritz.)

One thousand and one thank yous to all of you for the care package suggests. Please know that I've made a master list and will likely make use of every single one. I have plans in mind for a Father-of-Dr. B-esque package to include some sort of cleverly presented quarters for laundry. (If you haven't read that post about Dr. B's daddy, you should. So sweet!) Every suggestion is now on the list. Thanks again! Let me know if ya'll think of anything else.


EnnaVic and I must have been on the same cosmic inspiration train. Saturday I got out the molds and the bricks of glycerin soap and coconut oil soap and all of the necessary accoutrement and made a batch (or two or three) of homemade soaps. I should have plenty on hand for a while.


Homemade soap is lovely, of course, but seemed a bit of an odd accompaniment to handknit socks. With a few quick waves of the hands, hocus pocus, Tribbles....masquerading here as "bath poofs".


I whipped up a handmade card and all is well with the care package world.

Here's the homemade goody portion of Tegan's package:Soaps wrapped up.



Some of the soaps unwrapped.

I also included a box of microwave popcorn and some Easy Mac but they didn't make it to the photo session.

Lastly, take a look at this picture and come back later this week (probably Wednesday).
I've decided it is high time to have a contest around these parts. Just giving you a heads up.


As I think I have mentioned here before, I sometimes develop strong feelings for television commercial. My favorites at the moment are both Fruit of the Loom commercials. See them here. There are four in the series but my top one and two (respectively) are Overlove and Apple of my Eye (featuring Vince Gill.) Seriously, though, Overlove...how can you not love a commercial that includes the line "...And even though his hamster died, he finds comfort. this I swear. 'Cause you can't overlove your underwear, cause comfort ain't just found in teddy bears..."

Today's Quote:


"The cynic is one who never sees a good quality in a man and never fails to see a bad one. He is the human owl, vigilant in darkness and blind to light, mousing for vermin, and never seeing noble game. The cynic puts all human actions into two classes - openly bad and secretly bad. " -Henry Ward Beecher

Feeling Clever

I've tried three different heel styles and the first two were complete disasters. I will not tell you which two tutorials/patterns crashed and burned because (while I would like to blame the patterns) I can acknowledge freely that it was probably my ineptitude that doomed me. As a general rule, I would say that I do very well at following directions but I have been a massive failure at knitting the socks from the Interweave pattern. Lucky for me, I have my own personal, long-suffering sock guru RC, who once again pulled my socks out of the fire. (Thank you, again, RC!)

Her simple-enough-for-Kristy instructions on the Sherman Heel were lovely and clear and produced a beautiful heel - nay, TWO beautiful heels. See?

So that's all the news that is news around here. Hopefully I can finish these socks up today, then I can go over and play around on Ravelry. (Which I am still finding highly intimidating.)

Oh and by the way...any thoughts on a few little tidbits for me to mail along with Tegan's socks? Katy and I are going to get together sometime in the coming weeks and bake for her but I thought I'd send the socks early this week (she said, optimistically, assuming the socks would be finished). She is 2500 miles from home and for the first time in her life, quite far from her entire family. I have a couple of things in mind but, as is well established around, I rate very high on the lame-o-meter and could maybe use some help.

Today's Quote:

“Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.” -Alexander Pope

Commencement

My oldest sister, Carrie, is ten and a half years older than me. I was 9 when she married Jeff. Katy and I were 5 when we first met Jeff and while we liked Jeff just fine, we were surprised to hear that Carrie was going to marry Jeff and not (her friend) Sam. Alas, when you are 8, sometimes it is hard to tell the difference between "friend" and "boyfriend".


Lucky for us, Carrie did marry Jeff because almost exactly three years later, in an Army hospital in Fort Polk, Louisiana, she gave birth to my niece Whitney. And three minutes later, to my niece Tegan. As 12-year-old seventh graders in a tiny K-8 school in southern Wisconsin, Katy and I were called to the principal's office, where we took a phone call from our mother. "Did ya'll want nieces are nephews?" We of course didn't care - we were just excited. "Two girls," she said, "Whitney and Tegan."


We were so excited - thrilled, even - to be Aunts at 12. One week later the whole family made the drive from Wisconsin to Louisiana to meet the newest additions. They were a bit premature, Tegan had jaundice and spent the first days of her life on this earth in an incubator. They were beautiful, perfect girls. They were miraculous. They were dwarfed in the arms of my big brother (I wish I could have found a picture). During those few short days of that first visit, we could already see their personalities. Tegan, the snuggler who slept like death every time she slept (and still does). And Whitney, who Carrie called Baby Dozer because of her tendency to bulldoze the sleeping Tegan into a corner of the crib so she could spread out. When they were still very little, they moved closer to the rest of the family - to us - and have lived close for the rest of their lives. I had no idea how my life would be changed from then on. I've heard people talk about the love they feel for their own children and, not having my own children, I can't say what that is like. I do know that though I was only 12 when they were born, I felt a love for them that I couldn't even define. And to this day, that hasn't changed. Now, as then, I love these girls in a way that I never could have expected and cannot articulate.


Through the years, I have been amazed to watch them grow and change and I have been blessed and honored to be a part of their lives. Tegan, who from the time she could walk, pirouetted and pranced in front of every mirror, window, shiny or reflective surface. Tegan who was nearly constantly begging Katy for a "makeover". Who liked nothing more than dressing up in a perfect fancy dress, that she more than occasionally pulled up over her head. (Luckily, she has out grown this. For the most part.) Who used to scrunch up her nose snort and huff and spread out her arms as if to fly. (We still regularly mock her for this.)


Whitney, who was known to hide in corners and eat garlic salt straight from the shaker, who fell in love with a onesie at some point early on and continued to wear it until it had to be confiscated for fear it would permanently cut off her circulation. The onesie was her second favorite outfit, her first favorite being a diaper and a play gun belt, that she wore religiously while pretending to be a cop and while "apprehending the perpetrator in the boiler room." Who, troll-like, frequently carried a brown paper back around full of found treasures - pennies, a sock, Legos, a napkin, a ball of lint, a Matchbox car.Tegan, with her flare for the dramatic (note the pose) and Whitney, the practical, straightforward one. (Seen here at Santa's Land.)


Nearly 18 years later, they have grown up to be two amazing, beautiful young women. Each funny and frustrating and wonderful in their own right. I wish I could tell you - I wish I could tell them! - how much I love them. Simultaneously, somehow, I love them as if they were my own children and I love them like the little sisters I never had and I love them like long-time, dear, beloved friends.

Whitney, who aspires to one day being a high school band director (or a performing musician....I'm never quite sure which) and who I know will be successful whatever she decides to pursue. She is an amazingly talented instrumentalist and a pretty girl, who tries to hide it. She is a smart (and smart ass) and endearing young woman, whose politics, when she mentions them, lean precariously toward the far left. Whitney, who apparently aspires to give St. Jude a run for his "patron saint desperate cases and lost causes" title. Who wants everyone to think she is tough and cool, but who holds my mother's puppy and cuddles her and calls her her "baaaaabbbbyyyyy" and kisses her on her little dog mouth.

Tegan, who is the only militant cheerleader I've ever known. (She once made another girl on her squad cry because the poor girl was not "taking stunting seriously".) Who, when she was little, asked my mother (her nana) if there would be biscuits in heaven - and who cried when Nana told her probably not. Tegan, who along with her best friend, made the Young Republicans Club a going concern at their high school and who has worked as an intern for a Republican Congressman for the last year or so. An extremely smart girl who nonetheless once informed the entire family, in an appalled tone, that "Froot Loops is totally spelled wrong on the box...but they probably only did that so they could use the cereal shapes for all the Os." Tegan who Thursday flew 2500 miles from home to try out for the college cheerleading squad.


Over the last 17 and a half years, I've gained more nieces and some nephews - who I love dearly and wouldn't trade for anything - and yet these two will always hold a special place in my heart. These girls have made me cry more times than I care to remember, have been in my prayers so often only the Lord knows (thankfully He knows) and who have made me laugh more times than I can count. Last Friday night they graduated from high school. I am shocked and appalled at this - but also anxious and thrilled for them . . . and filled with excitement and trepidation on their behalf for all the things I know lay ahead of them. And for all the things I cannot even fathom lay ahead of them.


Congratulations, Whitney and Tegan! I love you and I am so proud of you for all you have done so far and so excited to see what you will accomplish from this day forward. And so blessed to call you my nieces - and my friends!

Today's Quote:

"My sister and I are twins, and you know how subtle are the links which bind two souls which are so closely allied." - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Actual Knitting...and an Introduction

My knitting time continues to be drastically curtailed by the beads. I am reminded all over again that knitting is slow and steady, while beads are nearly instant gratification. This week, doing beads spiraled into some paper crafting, which is like an old shoe for me. Anyone who has met me anytime since I was old enough to hold a pair of scissors will tell you how easily I fall into the trap of snipping up little bits of paper.

Luckily this weekend did provide some knitting time. I made some good progress on the sock. It is a little slower going than would be ideal but that is of my own doing. Here is sock one at 4.5".
I am making the body of these socks in a K6, P2 ribbing, with a 1" K2, P2 ribbed cuff. Knitting around and around on this sock, I am reminded that I really do like to zone out when I am knitting and lately the K6, P2 ribbing doesn't allow my mind to wander too far. But I like them and I'm happy with the look so they are worth it.

I did a bit on the baby blanket yesterday but it is temporarily in time out. Can you see why?Yesterday afternoon, I got together with some friends to - imagine it - do some knitting! In the last few weeks, one friend who has never tried knitting before said she wanted to learn and two others who had learned to varying degrees many years ago, wanted to get a refresher so that was fun. Maybe they will all decide to take up knitting more regularly. If I can't meet knitting friends, perhaps I can create them.

One last thing. Friday night I spend the evening hanging out with my twin sister, Katy. I've mentioned her before and since we both had on make-up, I took advantage of the opportunity to take our picture. (Her on the left, me on the right.) Katy, who is ten minutes older, is a nurse. She is funny and smart and snide and sarcastic and really mostly wonderful. She has a wicked, sometimes disruptive, contagious laugh. She is largely responsible for my love of both quotes and rollercoasters. As you might expect, I've known Katy longer than I've known anyone in the world and there has never been a time I wasn't glad to be a twin, to be her twin. She isn't a blogger but she has recently purchased herself a Mac, discovered Yahoo messenger and connected her own "air internet", and we are thoroughly proud of her. So I thought it was high time to introduce her to the knitters.

Today's Quote:


"Cushion the painful effects of hard blows by keeping the enthusiasm going strong, even if doing so requires struggle." - Norman Vincent Peale