Slipped Stitch Washcloth and other Musings

Today is a low-key day.  About all I accomplished was to finish this washcloth for a swap.

This is the second wash cloth I knit, because the first one was not one I felt good about sending.

Fishy Washy, looked good on paper, not so much in real time.


This is also all I took pix of for Project365 or 365project, so un-inspired am I today. Sometimes I think about moving to other countries, and today is one of those days.

Although today is not a good day to move to Australia.  Not with those floods and all that going on down under.

I wish them a speedy recovery though.

Its getting so I’m less and less proud to be American, what with everyone grabbing up guns and shooting people dead everywhere and a justice system that is unable to cope with it.  Its just depressing.

And it makes me wonder, if more people were listened to, if they could just be heard, somehow, would it make a difference?

All I know is the heart hurts sorely, and I feel it today.

Research Shows…

That if one doesn’t actually knit on their sweater(s), one doesn’t actually finish one’s sweater(s).

Startling, I know.

This coming from the person who declared  2011 The Year of the Sweater(s)!

I have a sweater finishing problem that rather needs to be conquered.  This Central Park Hoodie was started as a KAL in 2008 and its still not a sweater, yet.

Research reveals Three Things

  1. that just because its Almost Done, doesn’t magically make it Done,
  2. checking your project page on Ravelry doesn’t change anything either
  3. and dragging the project out of the closet and into your line of sight only reminds me its there.


Haunting and Taunting me.

So, I had this brilliant idea.  (Thus is the power of research.)

If I actually knit on a sweater a little bit, every day, the sweater might…wait for it…actually be a Finished Object!

Ok, Here I go to test the theory.

Five Things

I was thinking, yes, I know a dangerous activity, about how many things I do the same Every Day.  And what would be left after I eliminated all the usual stuff, you know, like;  getting dressed, going to the bathroom, eating, sleeping, etc.

And then I wondered if I could come up with Five Things that I do every day, like that Top Five on Facebook.

1:  Knitting, of course

2: Reading, always before I sleep at night, I must read to unwind.

3: Making, Baking or Cooking Something in the kitchen.

4: Giving and Getting Hugs from DH.

5:  Petting & Feeding the kitties Tuna for Cats from Trader Joe’s every morning upon waking.

Poetry Blog Day

The Tulips

by Ricky Ian Gordon

The tulips at that perfect place
crane their necks with liquid grace
like swans who circling, collide
within the lake this vase provides.

They stood like soldiers, stiff, before
as if they had been called to war.
In two days more, when petals fall,
I will entomb them in the hall

with trash; the morning’s coffee grinds,
old newspapers, and lemon rinds.
It’s bitter that such loveliness
should come to this,
could come to this.

But now their purpleness ignites
the room with incandescent lights.
Their stamens reach their yellow tongues
to lick the air into their lungs
through stems attached to whitish manes.
The pistil stains.

And even though there are no bees
about the room for them to please,
I take them in like honey dew-
and buzzing now,
I think of you…

I think of you who bought me these,
at least,
I wish you had,
as that might ease the ache
of passing hours.
A love is dying, like these flowers.

Middle Age Is Creeping Up On Me.

My good friend, Vi, who is in her 80’s likes to say, “Old age is creeping up on me” so I’ve borrowed that phrase from her.  Ever since I hit my 40’s things have changed.

I mean, first, I had to get bi-focals in my glasses.  Then I developed “tennis elbow” from all that excessive right handed use.  We won’t even discuss the more frequent trips to the bathroom.  Or the creakiness I am starting to feel upon rising.  No, we won’t go there.

I realized middle age was creeping up on me most profoundly the other day when I had to put on my glasses in order to see the hooks on my bra well enough to manipulate them.  I realized this when I started squinting at the labels on bottles.

My gosh, I sound like my Grandma H !  She used to say that the print on things was surely getting smaller!  And to think I didn’t believe her!

Grandma H, I apologize.  Sincerely.  I knew not what I was thinking.  And I admire you more and more each and every day!

Taking Chance

Go See This Movie!  And don’t forget the tissues.

Kevin Bacon once again proves his Awesomeness and the whole story is very touching.

Forecast: Spring with a chance of rain

This is a typical March here in Oregon.

Just when you’ve slogged through the longest short month of February.

Just when you think it might ease up a little with all the rain and gray skies.

Just when you have “Spring Forward” and have changed all the clocks in the house.

Just when you see the dogwood trees and the crocus begin to bloom.

Just when you begin to hope, that you’ll see a little sunshine…just then…it looks like this.

Oh, and did I mention that it snowed this weekend?  and rained, and hailed.  A virtual cornucopia of spring.

Roadside Work

Yet another driving rant…why is the simple act of going somewhere fraught with so many obstacles and frustrations?

I am driving to my sisters (to paint, what else?) and it is less the ten miles and two main roads away, shouldn’t be difficult, right?  huh!

For some reason the people that schedule the road work crews forgot to coordinate their jobs, so everything winds up being done at once and a body can’t drive anywhere without being stuck behind one of those people holding up that sign.

First I am stopped on my main road, which by the way, has only one way in and out of, so there is no way to cleverly drive around it even if you know the neighborhood.  Sigh.

All summer long there has been a crew Parked on the corner that I normally take to get on my second main road, so I take a clever little detour around it, because their is a way, if you know the back roads.

But wait!  there is another work crew!  Just as I turn to take my clever detour!  Isn’t there rules?  There oughta be rules about this!  No work crews allowed on the detour roads!

Who schedules this things?  Seriously, because I want to talk to them about a little coordination around here.

Scrapping the camping & other stories

One of my favorite pictures of Chris, taken on the beach at Humbug State Park.   It took him four days to actually relax enough to sit on the beach.   Relaxing isn’t his strong point.   He pretty much likes to be in forward motion of some kind.   I like to tease him and say he only has an “ON/OFF” switch because he doesn’t do Idle or Neutral or even Park.

When I showed Chris this layout, he said, “Hey, that’s a good picture of me, where’d you get that?”  Which will go down in my collection of “Infamous Stupid Things People Have Actually Asked Me”.

I took this picture!  Who else was there taking pictures of our camping trip? hmmm? (see my eyes roll) and its a good picture because I take good pictures, (see my eyes roll again) Framing is the key for me.   Always take the time to frame your picture.  Get in close, no, closer.

Yes, there really is a collection, I’ve been saving them up for years and years.   My dad is the best provider of these.
For instance:
When we all lived together as a family, my mom, sister and I went shopping at our local Safeway and came home with groceries.   Now Safeway has a distinctive large red “S” on all of their paper grocery bags and they are scattered all over the counter and kitchen table along with many groceries, do you see?
Dad comes sauntering in (yes, he always tries to act very casual when entering the kitchen full of foodstuffs, as if he is very unconcerned about all that food and where it may be going) so, anyway, he comes sauntering in, sees a kitchen scattered with groceries and grocery bags (remember the big red “S”?) and zooms right in on one little item.

Can you guess what it was?  Cookies!  Of course it was cookies, he’s a guy.  So, anyways, he sees the cookies in their lovely Pepperidge Farm package and asks us (I am not kidding, this is a real infamous quote here) he asks us this:
“Where did the cookies come from?”
Upon which, Mom, myself, and my sister immediately begin falling over with laughter.   And he is puzzled. What’s so funny?   GASP!  What’s so funny?????

The Shack

Dad gave both Melissa and I a copy of this because it apparently is the best book ever.   He seldom gets excited about things like books, and I can’t recall that he has ever bought another brand new copy to give away, because it’s that good, so it must be…really good.

Now, I have to be honest and admit that I have really struggled to even read this book;  or to keep reading it and to pick it back up again after I came to a complete stop for weeks.

So, what I am reading is a conversation between the author’s version of God and the main character, who is really struggling with the whole “God” thing.

Or Faith, or belief.  Whatever you call it.  He is struggling with it.  I am struggling with it.  Really, aren’t we all?

Just like me.   Just like where I am at.  With so much disappointment and hurt, I often have trouble believing the whole “God is good” thing.   And then I doubt.   Boy, do I doubt.

Then I came to this conversation about a bird and the difference between the bird flying or not flying:

“It would be like this bird, whose nature it is to fly, choosing only to walk and remain grounded. He doesn’t stop being bird, but it does alter his experience of life significantly.”

He doesn’t stop being the bird…well, that got me, right there.  I could just here Him say to me, “Just as you haven’t stopped being Rebecca.”

Even with all the life altering crappy experiences? Even though I have been grounded?  Could barely walk even?  I am still Rebecca and I still possess the capability of flight.  EVEN though my life has been significantly altered!

Ok, so I bared my soul, don’t laugh, but it is a comfort to me to know that I am still Rebecca because I was afraid she was lost.  I was afraid she would be grounded for life, never fly again, never be fully Rebecca.


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