A Fluke.

Past experience should have warned me that the one perfect cake of summer was a fluke.

I should have caught a clue when I burned the second one.

Instead of listening to the voices in my head, I listened to my friend The Claw who said "A Boston Cream Pie type of cake would be great for my 60th birthday."

This morning I got up to make said cake. I saw in the recipes that it was possible to add 2 squares of chocolate to make it a chocolate cake. The Claw is not opposed to chocolate. I thought to myself- "how cool would that be! A boston cream pie like cake with CHOCOLATE instead of yellow cake."

In the words of Simon, "off I went."

In my self-confidence and ease (I've done this before) I combined flour, double acting soda, and salt. I combined sugar and butter and melted chocolate. I added egg yolks. I patiently alternated adding the dry ingredients and the milk. It was beautiful. A sight to behold. So proud was I. I thought "I should blog this." and then thought "no, it's just a cake- this is really not news for you."

Pans are greased, oven is preheated. Batter goes in. Cakes-to-be enter oven. Call the mom to chat while waiting for the cooking. Talking to the mom-"oops- this recipe calls for 2 tsp of pure vanilla" Rationalized that by adding the chocolate it would be o.k. Maybe even better- a more subtle cake rather than sweet.

At the end of the allotted time, I removed said cakes from the oven. I did the obligatory toothpick test. Hmm., that has a little bit of "stuff" on it. I'll just test it over here on the edge of the cake. Oh good. Clean toothpick. Light brown spots on top of the cake indicating a near-miss burning-saying to self "oh, remember that burned last cake? you got this out just in time. You are so good."

I let the cakes sit. I put them in the refrigerator to cool. When I went to retrieve them, the had collapsed a little. I forgot that maybe I should have taken them out of the pan before letting the official "cooling" begin. Still, surely I'll have a nice flat side to frost when I take them out. Not so much.

Behold my new invention- chocolate crater cake with no vanilla.




And so it goes. Happy 60th Birthday to The Claw. I'll bring over a GiantEagle Boston Cream Pie the next time in town. Delusions of Sophanne the Baker adequately in check.

it tastes pretty o.k.- the parts that are done- it won't go to waste but all the Claw got for his birthday from me were good intentions.

No star spangling

My life is so uneventful that things that don't happen become a blog post.

Tonight the local music teachers were scheduled to sing the Star Spangled Banner at the local Band Spectacular. Conflicts and daily life brought the number of singers,which started at about 20, down to 3. While one in attendance was more than willing to do it herself (there's always one in the crowd, yes?) I try to make it a rule never to sing in crowds less than 5.

We would have been singing here with big microphones and everything.



On the way home I saw this bumper sticker- it says "Who rescued Who?" on a pawprint.



I didn't get it right away until I came home and saw this-



Now I get it.

In years past I would have stayed for some spectacular bands, watched kids and parents proud of themselves and each other and gone out for a couple of cocktails afterwards. Now with a Mr. Sophanne, a Liza Jane and some knitting, there's no place like home.

Surprise!

While I've tried to do this pattern once, I think my color choices the first time were way boring and caused me to lose interest. So here goes another attempt at EZ's adult surprise jacket- The colors are much more vibrant than they appear. I am imagining wearing this in the coming winter so that I will be easy to spot in drifts of white snow.


This gourd makes me wish I weren't such a chicken when it comes to the watercolors I have housed a mere inches away from it. I think it would make a fabulous subject but fear of failure prevails and for now I will content myself with admiring the colors, texture and beauty of the original object instead of trying to reproduce it.

Rules at House of Sophanne

That last post and a reminder from a friend gave me pause for thought on how it is that Mr. Sophanne and I manage the stresses of life without collapsing into knock down drag out marital distress. Thus I present today House of Sophanne's spoken and unspoken rules of marital disputes.

#1 No one is allowed to leave or threaten to leave. EVER. This came up while we were dating and however uncomfortable it made either of us, we've stuck to it because we both know that in spite of whatever momentary differences there may be, giving up is not an option.

#2 No telling the other person how they should think, should act or should feel- as well as no telling them how they do think, do act or feel. The closest we come to this is by saying "when you say x it makes me feel y."

#3 Taking a time out and going to separate corners is o.k. (kind of like boxing in rounds) but usually rule #2 sets someone up for an apology of some kind (even if it's "I'm sorry you feel that way.") and that person usually knows it's his/her turn to come to the middle.

#4 No picking on or baiting one another. When this occurs, the other can say "that felt like you're picking on me."

#5 The only way to resolve these kinds of fights is to step back from the emotion and try to rationally discuss.

#6 Both of us recognize that we bring baggage from the past into every argument. We're not always arguing with each other but instead yelling at the baggage from our past. We try to pay attention to that.

Most of our disputes have come from high stress levels, lack of communication, or fear of one thing or another. More than once I am sure the neighbors got quite an earful. Especially in those first two years. Lately (knock on wood) because we know how things eventually resolve, we skip the whole emotionally charged yelling and go straight for the "what's going on here" scenario.

We haven't yet gone to bed angry but when we both get up in the morning at the same time, we have left for work angry and that is no good.

Sometimes it's good to ask the other if "now is a good time to talk about...."

When we were on vacation, I was mired in the stress of making sure it was all good for all of his family that was there. He was mired in that stress as well but recognized mine, stepped back and gave me space for it. In return, I recognized that I was crazy bitchy and after a snappy remark would immediately acknowledge that it was stress-related, apologize, and try to reign it in.

We rarely argue about money because we have a working budget that meets our needs. When we have to talk about the budget (for an update or to change it) we both say "talking about money is stressful- look at us both getting stressed." and we give ourselves some big high fives when we make it through that conversation.

These rules-most of them a matter of habit rather than spoken or acknowledged in any way- take some giving in from both of us. Being willing to be wrong and being gracious when right is the key for us. As is acknowledging and being sensitive to each others fears and insecurities.

It makes me wonder what other people do.

Sleep much?

So I didn't really have insomnia. I was cruising YouTube videos waiting to make sure Mr. Sophanne's tongue swelling didn't eventually block his airway. (stupid blood pressure medicine)- which it didn't and he's fine now. But you can imagine my emotional reaction when I watched this. (and really- I'm not a random video poster so you can trust me on the loading time on this one.) It's an animation of an interview done by Storycorps.

Summer revisted

It seems as though given a weekend and an extra day I can get a little vacation mojo back.

I had hoped for a live action shot but maybe later. Mr. Sophanne is dissembling a dead tree with the chain saw- not a good time to interrupt and Liza Jane hasn't learned to use the camera yet.

Behold Tiger's Eye Jane Goodall by Jordynn Jack. I used some handspun by Barbara Campbell- (a local spinner- who has no internet links) I am moderately pleased with the outcome. The yarn is a little rough in a way that I can't exactly explain.






I am picturing a black collarless shell underneath with 3/4 length sleeves and of course the tiger eye ring which was the whole point of the sweater.`



There's banana bread in the oven, the grocery shopping is finished and now I'm going to wind some yarn.

so I'm in the kitchen

and suddenly I feel like Luke Skywalker

Luke, I am your Father.







or maybe just a coffee pot.



Maybe I can't divide 52 by 2 but I can crack me up. Cracking me up even more was that I HAD to post this discovery tonight after I had already gone to bed. It would not wait until morning.

I knit

It feels a little silly to me to post socks. When I knit them it's all about product- I want socks this winter. To me it feels like posting about making the bed. My friends at knit night really liked these. The yarn was a gift from 5elementkntr many moons ago- I forget the kind. The pattern is my standard r.1 k2p2- r.2 k



But as long as I'm photographing socks- here's the next pair. That Noro sock yarn is crazy pretty. I removed the gusset and heel turn last night after realizing that 21 was NOT half of 52 and am proceeding cautiously.



The Jane Goodall cardigan knitted in the tiger's eye color is soaking for a honking wet block. Note to self. Take more pictures in the basement sink.





The dog is wacky stupid because the deer love this tree. She's just a big old load of "Get Off My Property." They are shaped like cherries but they remain yellow. Quince maybe? I'm making that up.



Time to go flatten some wet wool.

For the record it feels like I'm walking around in the world with 5 or 6 ellipses between thoughts and the world is happening with none or one. That makes for a whole lot of "huh?'s" in my neck of the universe.

thanks for the help and other stuff

Many thanks to those of you with suggestions regarding the talking situation. It is actually a teacher lounge/lunchroom event and not a knitting event. Your words gave me other options- including time and space to sit and think about it. All of you commented before Beth did and her words were really insightful

....Marshall Rosenberg's book Nonviolent Communication; he has a wonderful chapter section about using empathy to revive a lifeless conversation. He says "it is more considerate to interrupt people than to pretend to listen. All of us want our words to enrich others, not burden them."

I'm trying not to attach myself to the way lunch "was" and instead looking to see what it "is" or "will be." One of the more clever and socially agile members of the group jumped in and had some success at slowing down the steamroller. If nothing else it will be an opportunity to notice how the world works and how my mind works in certain situations. (and let me tell you- it ain't always pretty.)

Moving on...

I am a flibberty-gibbet.

I am a lemming.

I am looking for the next thing to intrigue and fascinate me.

After finding such things and living them, I discard them and wait for the next thing.

For example-

10 shawls in 2010. I finished number 9 and didn't even post it. Gave it to catfeedingneighborlady without a second thought. I have no interest in the ta-da moment. I was more interested in whether it was something I could do. Now that I see it is- meh.

The plants growing in my space. With school daze in my head space, I don't have room for plants. We got some roma tomatoes. They were kind of mushy. If Mr. Sophanne hadn't spent so much time putting that "hardware cloth" fence around them, I'd be happy to feed the rest to the bunnies and the deer. They grew. I was amazed. I'll try it again. For now it's done.

Jello and cooking in general. What? Why was that interesting to me? That's what I'm wondering right now. I know it will be interesting to me again. Probably around June next year but for now, I repeat, meh.

Any given shawl or sweater knitted in the last 3 months. Oh yes, the knitting is done. The blocking? Who cares? Why bother.

On the other hand, I didn't knit nearly as much as I could have this summer- I spent more time doing other stuff. Now it is my place of transition and refuge after a busy day. I'm working on some socks for the winter and it feels good. There is yarn in my stash that I'm looking forward to using. I'm making plans in my head.

I'm also looking forward to the next thing that makes me say "cool" and puts a real smile on my face. Something new to obsess over and share with the circles in my life. Fortunately it always comes.

Please can you help me?

So I've got this situation.

There is a group of people who I gather with-because we all happen to be there- not by any invitation or disinvitation- that has acquired a new member.

This group used to function smoothly and with large laughs. We would pause in silence and conversation would be creative when it happened and not mundane or gossipy.

This new member has no knowledge of the previous dynamics and has steamrolled in with constant jabber about irrelevant situations that in no way relate to the interests of anyone else in the group. S/he dominates the conversation to the point that once creative laughing people shut down and are silent. If a side conversation takes place during a particularly long irrelevant story, s/he will stop the story and take over the side conversation.

We've started having an unspoken contest to see who will maintain eye contact with him/her the longest and be forced to hear the whole story while others try to get their requisite laughs in on the side.

It's thrown a wrench in my works. I need my laughs and not gossip. I don't know what to do. I am very inclined to bluntly say "you talk too much." but know that doing so will end a relatively decent relationship with this person who otherwise is kind and friendly.

What to do? Probably nothing but I thought I'd toss it out there for assistance.

Wolfgang.

If the next 350 weeks of my teaching career have stories like this, I may just make it. It's a little long but it cracked me up like nobody's business.

Today is first grade. I am reviewing the "school rules" which are to "be safe, be responsible and be respectful." I know that these kids get these rules drilled into them all over the place so I am trying to make it a little more interesting while letting them know what the consequences are for not following the rules.

Enter Imaginary Ethel. (it used to be Imaginary Fred but when Mr. Sophanne's brother, Fred, died, I felt like that was the wrong thing to do.)

Today Imaginary Ethel was poking Wolfgang (who also happens to be someone who might poke someone else on another occasion.) When I tell Wolfgang this, his eyes light up and he is quite ready to poke her back. I suggest that poking back is really not an option, imaginary or not, and instead he looks at me with disdain and points to Ethel with a look of "being poked" distress.

Ethel is poking. Wolfgang is making faces at her and me and I am explaining to all of the kids that Imaginary Ethel needs to be reminded (by me) of the school rules. I also explain that if she requires three reminders in the same class period that I will be calling "the person who takes care of Imaginary Ethel" after school to let them know of Ethel's difficulties.

Ethel continues to poke, receives her warnings and I pick up my imaginary phone and call "the person who takes care of Imaginary Ethel." I say "Hello, this is Mrs. Sophanne, I'm calling about Ethel. She has been poking another student today and I wonder if you could talk to her about following the rules in music class."

Wolfgang interrupts this phone call and says "TELL HER IT'S ME! TELL HER IT'S ME THAT SHE'S POKING!!!!!!"

I put the imaginary receiver against my chest and say (so that kids get a little knowledge about confidentiality in the schools) "Actually Wolfgang, I can't really tell her who Ethel is poking. I'm not allowed to."

I finish my phone call and proceed to explain what's in store for Imaginary Ethel if she continues to poke Wolfgang. (an official note home and a visit to the principal's office.) As I am explaining this, Wolfgang picks up HIS imaginary phone and calls "the person who takes care of Ethel" to tell her it was HIM she was poking.

I immediately stop what I'm doing, look at Wolfgang and tell him that he is NOT allowed to make phone calls in music class and he must tell her he'll call her back later and that he has to go now, which he immediately does.

added for clarity- Wolfgang is not his real name but he has a really cool name like Wolfgang so it might as well be. Ethel is imaginary. A year ago in kindergarten, if I had told Wolfgang that I was not going to reveal his identity, he would have thrown a fit and would require an aide to "passively restrain" him. Sometimes when I write the words "might as well be" I really want to just type "Marcus Welby."

MIA

Warshboard is complete.

Classroom is currently an exercise in minimalism. Warshboard is the centerpiece.

This whole back-to-work thing gets in the way of thinking blogful thoughts.

Do any of you know and remember the GRE questions about Biff wearing green, Julie and Louise owning an SUV and Lenny needing a hair cut and how can you get them all to meet in the shortest time possible in France?

I've been solving similar problems related to elementary school scheduling.

I. Rock.

Warshrag? No Way! WarshBOARD!

Pretty soon this pile of stuff is going to be really really cool thanks to The Claw



He's going to add a tin cup and a wood block to it and is played with 4 thimbles and someday I want to be able to play it like David Holt in this video-



Also part of the great day was a visit to the Babybabies, their big brother and their awesome mama and papa. And we got some plans made for the first few days of school. You think your brain is dead and then something clicks. It must have been the fresh garden tomato sandwiches for lunch. yum.



I swear I saw their Babybaby brains growing today.

Knitting in Hibernation and comments on comments

All is not lost when stuck in the one room with air in the house.

This handspun (not by me) yarn is a little darker than it appears and I like to call it "tiger eye." I think it will match few rings that I have and that is about as matchy matchy as I like to be.



When it grows up, it's going to be Jane Goodall by Jordynn Jack (rav link) I've been taking a break from the Queen's Lace. This, if all goes as planned, should be a delightful autumn sweater. At the moment I'm in the black hole for another 10 or so inches. Then the fun will begin.

I am so grateful for comments on my blog- sometimes if I have the address, I'll write back directly. More often than not, I'm always sure to comment on that person's blog as a way of saying "thanks and I was here."

Sometimes I am remiss or I want to comment on comments and don't have the addresses I need or am too lazy to figure it all out. So what follows is a special comment on comments for those who I haven't reached lately.

@kmkat- thanks for pointing out the comment difficulties. I'm glad it's all working again. The Silky Wool arrived safely as did an errant ball of boucle. That cracks me up. Re: rhythm and brews- I didn't make it up- it's the name of a nearby pub. Actually- that's probably enough info to warrant an email but I didn't want you to feel left out.

@lisa- you should come to the yarn destash too- you might save Gina some grief. Also if you feel like it leave your email address (or click on mine and send me a note) so that I can write back to you. We're friends now- even if you don't have a blog. And now that I realize who you are when you comment, I will trust your recommendation for the Cooks Illustrated How to Cook library for your Kindle. Because before that I thought you were a spammer.

@yarnhog- you would keep your children before you'd keep your books- I know you better than that- oh. wait. I am talking to the woman with no less than 10! sewing machines.

@everyone wondering about the aunt. She's better. All things must pass. And she was really touched by your kind and thoughtful words on the Uncle Dick post.

@MountainMama- the books have already found their way to the used bookstore. Be glad- you would have just accumulated unnecessary clutter. I kept the good ones.

@ Sharon- "stitchjones" mymommadethis- I was TOTALLY thinking log cabin for that delicious yarn and actually bought the first Mason-Dixon knitting book to help me out when I bought the yarn. Can you believe I didn't have that already?

@Roxie- re the whole "nature abhors a vacuum" business. Come to find that I have so much extra "stuff" (someone please tell me how ONE successful jello mold turned into about 25 different jello mold pans) that the space that I'm making through culling is promptly filled with the "stuff" that was strewn about everywhere. And knitting in the dark was more better than the thought of connubial relations when it's 90 degrees.

Finally-

In January 2007, I posted a picture of my knitting corner here.

These pictures*




also give a slight indication as to my skills as a de-clutterer/organizer. I am proud to say that (at least for the last 3 days) my knitting corner looks like this:



The projects I'm working on are in the drawers. Babette The Two is on the floor because it's too big for the drawers. The nails lasted a month. We'll see how long this last!

*For those of you traumatized by clutter- it's not nearly that bad around here anymore.

hot hot hot

That's what it is here. Too hot and humid for anything other than reptile like movement. I always like the unconscious mutterings that people post so I'm jumping on the wagon. It's the first time I've gotten to see the mutterings without the answers already there.

1. Rhythm :: and brews


2. Baby :: babies


3. Sanctimonious :: holier than thou


4. I like ::my ukulele


5. Constipated :: aunt


6. Sleep late :: without exception


7. Over easy :: summer


8. Erratic :: erotic


9. Umbrella ::phant


10. You don’t ::own me.

Culling

Cull tr.v., culled, cull·ing, culls.
To pick out from others; select.
To gather; collect.
To remove rejected members or parts from (a herd, for example).

I am culling yarn and books. Without much effort I've been able to remove 5 sizable boxes of books from my shelves and 2 large bags of yarn.

I head to the used book store with the books. The yarn will go with me to knit night- free for the taking. (so friend and colleague of Gina's-tell her she can't miss on Tuesday.)

This was inspired by Mr. Sophanne's daughter and the The Minimalist Knitter. And I'm o.k. with it. And I might have room on the shelves for the cookbooks and yarn I've recently acquired. And then some. And it may just free my mind a little.

I like this today.

Lee Richard (Dick) Hayman

I am at Aunt of Sophanne's today. I planned on coming to help with a few things and while I was driving here, older brother of recently deceased uncle passed away from complications related to Alzheimer's. And I already knew it was so because I saw that Monarch Butterfly as I headed toward the exit.

This is his obituary-

Long time Salinas, California resident and teacher, Lee Richard "Dick" Hayman died August 9, 2010 in Weirton, West Virginia at the age of 87. He was born in Indianapolis, Indiana. He taught at Salinas High School, Hartnell College,Monterey Peninsula College, San Jose State University and the University of the Americas in Mexico City, as well as conducting workshops for Salinas Elder Hostel programs. He was a lifelong literature instructor. He was one of the organizers of Steinbeck Interest groups in Salinas and helped found the national Steinbeck Center. A published writer, Hayman saw many of his poems and light verses appear in a variety of magazines, newspapers and books over the years.

He received honors from the national Steinbeck Center and the Robinson Jeffers Foundation of Carmel. They received his extensive collections of the author’s works and memorabilia, including valuable first editions. In April 2007, the Steinbeck Studies Center at San Jose university library unveiled his massive donation which will be used for research by scholars worldwide. It is recognized as unique and invaluable to the understanding of John Steinbeck, his home town, and his successful novels. Hayman will be remembered by thousands of his students for his wit and quick smile as well as his challenging assignments.


If you click on the link there is a picture of him just below Bruce Springsteen.

Here's the thing. He was awesome. One time (when the world was younger)I went to Lowe's with Uncle and Dick and seriously- my brain could not keep up with the punny humor, the quick wit, and the Marx-brothers-like shenanigans.

One time I was driving to work listening to NPR do a story on something John Steinbeck related and suddenly there was "Uncle Dick" (we called him that even though he wasn't "really" an uncle) talking through the speakers in the car. It blew my mind!

He occasionally sent me clippings of his poetry and thought it was hysterical that there was a British pop star that had the same name as I did.

Aunt talks about how he got to do everything he wanted to in life. The hardest part was the mental prison that caught him in the end.

The only immediate family members remaining are Aunt and Cousin of Sophanne. We will probably have an informal sort of memorial with family at the next holiday gathering- just to look at pictures, pay tribute, and collect memories. There's just not very many nearby left to immediately mourn his loss. And I knew I could count on my blog friends.

Radio Noir

ETA come to find when it's radio and detectives it's not Radio Noir but "Hardboiled Radio."

I've mentioned here before that I like to listen to Relic Radio podcasts. Last night I listened to Pat Novak-Detective for Hire starring Jack Webb. I bet it was a blast being a writer on these shows. I jotted down a few of my favorites for to make-a-you laugh. All lines should be said in a Joe Friday monotone


And everything sounds all right but sometimes it isn’t- like saying Happy New Year to a lifer.

The veins stood out on his face as if he slept on an alligator bag instead of a pillow

You get bloodshot eyes just looking at her. She can make a quart of gin disappear while anybody else looks for the cork screw

She opened the door with a nice easy motion- like a cat getting ready to eat it’s young.


Why’d you marry him?
I don’t know. I suppose I confused a hangover with love.
Sounds exciting.
About as lively as a dishrag in a steambath.

I rolled over once and then I stretched out on the floor as hard as a piece of chewing gum on a theater seat.

I tried to get up once or twice but I couldn’t get the boxcar off my chest and the phone kept ringing like a piece of crystal in a hailstorm.

The guy that opened the door had a face like three pounds of warm putty. It was moist and pink and you got the idea they put the color in with a spray gun and if his heart was made of the same stuff, they drained the oil out first.

I told her if her husband didn’t square, I’d turn him into hamburger. She offered to bring the buns.

When I walked out of there, I felt like a voice teacher with adenoids.

That’s a lot of blonde hair to keep indoors. Good blondes run like salmon.

His mouth hung open like a broken screen door.

She had a vacant look on her face as if her brains had checked out without letting her know.

He’s not a season pass- we don’t have to hang on to him.

The winds of change are blowing in the wind.

That title? I don't really get it but it makes me laugh.

There is a certain desperation that comes when the vacation time is ticking down. A grasping for "new" while there is still time.

It's the only way I can explain the jello, the yarn, and now this-



I am the proud owner of a ukulele.

Last week Wendy at KnitandTonic showed a picture of Girlfriend playing the ukulele and had previously talked about Girlfriend's surprise at not being able to play it immediately.

Fast forward one week. The Claw (featured here) shared a video



of his good friend Kyler playing the ukulele. (If you sing Country Roads really slowly, it fits.

Then there was this-



Glen is a former student teacher and music educator extraordinaire. I trust his judgement when it come to new things. I'm also grasping at anything to help me look forward to a new school year. The serendipity of the ukulele could not be ignored. And it's so much lighter than a guitar.

On a brighter note-

This morning's post was a bit of a let-down for me. I had such high hopes for that coffee jello.

The trip to Natural Stitches was fabulous. And I mean it. It's lucky for me that finding that place on my own would be next to impossible given my disdain for city driving. (note that i said "next to" impossible.)

After purchasing the colors that spoke to me, I can only reach the conclusion that I have a "Sharpie" mentality in color hue and saturation.







There is a Sharpie in that purple color at the end- I've just left it laying around somewhere.



There are 12 skeins total (2 of each) and i imagine them creating a spectacular something someday.

A work in progress

Imagine a Starbuck's Frappuccino Mocha Coffee Drink made into jello and that's what we've got going on here.

It's not so pleasant to look at, as there are unmelted chocolate bits at the top as well as some of the liquid that melted during "unmolding." It tastes "adequate" and will likely improve texturally with the addition of some cool whip.

I think if I had gone with a clear coffee jello instead of adding the sweetened milk and the chocolate I might have liked it better. I possibly could have used less gelatin as the original recipe called for it to be cut into squares ala finger food rather than in a mold.

I may have to try this once more with those adjustments.

I'm off to Natural Stitches today. I really hope I stick with a plan and don't just buy random skeins of pretty colors. I wouldn't take bets on that one.

Ten Things

There's been a lot of "Ten Things" posts going around out there. In the spirit of that, I give you "Ten things to do at House of Sophanne when the power goes out for 14 hours."

1-Call the power company multiple times.

2-Sit in front of a darkened television waiting for it to come back on.

3-Decide that it's time to get onto that fancy "city water" instead of using a well so there's water when the power goes out.

4-Drive around the neighborhood and see who else's power is out.

5-Go out to dinner because your husband is having a little post-traumatic freak-out from the last time the power went out (The Snow Storm of 2010)

6-Go to the grocery store and buy candles. Insist on emergency candles rather than tapered unscented candles because it means searching around the grocery store a little longer and not having to go home.

7-Confuse the dog by paying a ton of attention to her.

8-Sit in front of candles (tapered unscented) and pretend it's a television

9-In lieu of watching a movie, act out "The Godfather" (which apparently every man knows some dialogue to) while Sophanne hums the music.

10-Make a Benadryl and Xanax cocktail and call it a night.

p.s. The Food Librarian has a recipe for Coffee Jello going on today- I am SO all over that- I'm thinking of adding a little melted chocolate to the mix. Yowsa!

knit night

KnitnightJustine brought this book to my attention yesterday

Plato and a Platypus Walk Into a Bar-Understanding Philosophy Through Jokes"

This is the ultimate read for a brain like mine. A couple of not exact quotes to give you an idea-

Two cows are standing in a field. The first cow says "What do you think of this mad cow disease?" The second cow says "I don't know- I'm a helicopter."

The favorite bit that I read last night involved the use (misuse) of metaphor- some high school contest sponsored by some newspaper-

The boat floated gently across the lake just like a bowling ball wouldn't.

The one that sealed the deal is the first page I turned to when previewing the book- again- not exactly quoted- just the gist.

Cows standing in the field again.

Cow 1: You know even though pi is often represented in 5 digits, it actually goes on to infinity.
Cow 2: Moo.

THAT SLAYED ME!!!!!

Sadly KnitnightJustine must return to Philly for year 2 of medical school. Happily, there's a person on the planet that really gets what makes me laugh.

Before we left for vacation, KnitnightJudy offered her Big City Driving Skills up for a trip to Natural Stitches and the famous wall of Cascade. I've never been there and will be looking for some colors to make an afghan from the book Comfort Knitting and Crochet Afghans (rav link).

I've been knitting that Queen Anne's Lace it's big and takes a long time. Right now it looks a little bit like a Jellyfish. A sort of dried up jellyfish with some yarn-overs.

Just to end with a bad metaphor- feel free to make up your own in the comments-

I'm looking forward to the new school year the way most teachers who have counted the years until they can retire look forward to the new school year.

blog-a-day while I can

My days are numbered.

My free days are numbered.

Soon I will have to attend to things.

In the mean time my favorite thing to do (if I can manage to do it without feeling guilty about grass/laundry/dinner) is listen to Relic Radio episodes on the itouch and knit.

Vincent Price as The Saint was on the list this afternoon. Only in the best of film/radio noir fashion can Vincent Price get away with saying

"Don't sneeze in the breeze."

Cracks Me Up

p.s. the nails are gone- they lasted exactly one month. They were making my fingers claustrophobic.

Hooray For the Watering Neighbor

We planted roma tomatoes. Roma tomatoes grew. To me, that is flipping amazing.

Defensive Driving

And when I say defensive driving, I'm not talking about the kinds of things that are said after spending 7 hours in a car with Mr. Sophanne and the dog. If I were, I'd talk about how he smacks his mouth when he's chewing cashews. And he'd likely tell you about what a boring non-verbal traveling companion I am- (although- really- who can talk over that "cashews-in-your- teeth" smacking sound????)

Just kidding. None of the above happened. It just happened in my head- but was caused by spending 2 straight weeks in nearly constant company with each other. He's off to spend his "free money" from the casino and me and the Liza-girl get a little quiet time.

This quiet time means no t.v., no video games, no sand fleas biting at my ankles, a fully charged (without the fear of blowing a fuse) iPod touch with books on it, a wireless internet connection, a clean dog and clean sheets in the dryer kind of quiet time. A catch up on the favorite blogs quiet time. A "HOLY CRAP WE HAVE GREEN TOMATOES" quiet time. An "oh lookie the bunnies ate the strawberries we never saw" quiet time. A pet the cat who survived another two week vacation quiet time. And an "oh man it's too quiet without those awesome kids and their awesome mama" quiet time. Especially when I realize that the mama doesn't get the kind of quiet time I'm having right now.

How's the dog, you ask? EXHAUSTED. The kind of exhausted where the red in her lower eyelids appears and she can barely keep her eyes open even when I'm eating pizza. She wants that last bit of crust that I always give her but by the time I get to it, she's asleep again.

But back to defensive driving. While I'm certain this behavior has saved my life on more than one occasion, there is a drawback. I realized today that every other driver is an enemy in my mind.

Not just a "mind your own business not bothering me enemy" but a "hey you pissant driver why are you so stupid" enemy.

Even when they do nothing wrong.

In fact as we were motoring down the road, I asked Mr. Sophanne to flip off a couple of harmless buses from Shandon Baptist Church. He refused- or else he could't hear me over the cashew-chewing. This "request a random flip off from your spouse" behavior is not me. I don't do these things in real life. It had to be a cumulative effect of too much defensive driving.

In a better world we will all be able to get where we want to go without the fear of running big heaps of metal into each other. I will continue to drive defensively for now and try not to be quite so defensive.



Stay tuned for a blocked Brandywine (which will be promptly gifted to the daughter of the mr.) and pictures of green roma tomatoes.

Wetlands Institute- Stone Harbor NJ

Yesterday was Totally Turtle Tuesdays at the Wetlands Institute. After a well-done educational session, the kids got to watch Pretty Girl (a terrapin) eat a fiddler crab.



They also saw a rescued turle set free into the marshlands- Never one to follow rules much, Mr. Sophanne took the boy on the trails in the marsh. I'm thinking these were "employee only" trails- or at least "wear big rubber boots" trails.

Marsh Muck-2 The Boys-0

Wildwood, New Jersey Part Two

Tilt-a whirl-merrygoround-The Tornado-White Shark- Aztek Helicopters-Go-Karts and the lure of the Ravens "Rice" shirt from the basketball Carnies.

The girl, the girl, the mama.

The girl and the boy

The girl and sophanne.

Favorite quote from the boy last night- "How does a war end?" I had no answer. "Badly" came to mind but I knew it wouldn't satisfy.

Favorite quote from the 5-girl last night- "I have no feeling." (I think she was saying that she couldn't feel the air conditioner in the car)

That was last night with promises of a repeat performance this evening. I mostly want to go to one of the shops and buy the Ray Rice jersey to end the strife but I realize that attachment is a wily beast and once that desire is quenched, there will be but another one.

This morning while they do the go to the beach thing, I am headed for the grocery store and the package store. When the girl has a donut for breakfast, the mama deserves a glass of cabernet in the evening.

Day 2 House B

Everyone's present and accounted for. My favorite line of last night came from age 5 "I can't WAIT until you see my new PAJAMAS!" Also priceless was the look on her face when presented with a box of 64 Crayolas. The puppet show that was happening took a turn something like "And then their friend was drawing and they stopped to watch her."

Age 10 and 8 played the wii we brought. I occasionally have to remind Mr. Sophanne that they don't have to do it the "right way" to have fun with it.

He so very much wanted to spend the evening at Wildwood and it took every bit of "honey do you really thinks..." to convince him that looking at the rides and fun through a raging thunderstorm really wouldn't be much fun.

This morning they are at the beach and I stayed home with the dog and made a giant salad. I wish I could like the beach more but I really don't. I like having it near me. I just am not into hot and sand and sunscreen and itchy sticky and maybe having a fish swim into you at the ocean. All that work just to feel like a whale in a bathing suit? Not for me.

Sadly this VRBO (vacation rental by owner) has not turned out as well as others have in the past. Safety concerns left the kids and the mama sleeping downstairs in the living room. There will be words with the owner later- I'm trying not to let my frustration at not getting what we paid for ruin the family fun mood.

Day 3? So far so good. More giggles and cuddling to come. And hopefully Wildwood tonight!

A or B- you decide.

This will be a retro post- I am taking you back into the past. Because of this, you need not feel bad for we have survived day one in the new rental and while there is no wireless, we did find the ethernet.

This morning while moving from rental A to rental B, I broke and gashed the right foot pointy toe. This particular toe has been broken so many times (I swear it must be some extra long genetic toe defect) that I have high hopes that this particular break will allow it to bend once again (it's been straight as a board since college)

Rental A- central air
Rental B- window units that flip the breaker

Rental A- internet service
Rental B- "it worked for the last tenants- they must have set the password- I don't know much about that tech stuff."

Rental A- doggie gate on the porch so that Lil Liza could be on the porch without the fear of her running off.
Rental B- maybe we can block the porch off with a chair.

Rental A- volume control on t.v. unavailable
Rental B- volume control available.

For the record, I could have lived without volume control.

Today we drove to Baltimore, picked up a rental car, dropped off our car to the daughter's in-laws and drove the rental back to the shore. Lost? East coast or west, Mr. Sophanne and I are the perpetual sequel to Planes Trains and Automobiles.

Failing to ice my toe before we left, Mr. Sophanne pulled off at the Maryland Welcome Center and bought an entire bag of ice to rest on my foot.

Unlike in the movie, we had no problem getting our rental car- however finding the in-laws house meant each of us in a car- no one as navigator.

The biggest win of the day was my "driving while navigating with Mr. Sophanne following" on and off I-695 to I-95 to-NJ-702. I must have been a cabbie in a past life. I'm sure the impressions my hands left in the steering wheel will come out in time. I was grateful that the broken toe did not have to slam on the brakes.

Thus ends this triple digit heat warning Saturday... stay tuned.

ETA- we slept well- Mr. Sophanne feared bats might fly out of the chifforobe (I DID NOT just use that word!) but such was not the case.

The main living area has cooled down to a balmy 79 degrees.

I finished the traveling woman shawl for the neighbor watching the cat- photos will wait until blocking because it does indeed look like a diaper.

The toe is feeling better.

Daughter of Mr. Sophanne and grands are on their way. (when they phoned last night to ask about the house I used the word "rustic" - really I should have used the words "rustic college-town rental including a drawer full of random unsorted silverware with a plethora of salad tossing forks")

Knitting ahead*

This is Romi's Brandywine in Elsebeth Lavold's silky wool. Just about 3 skeins worth- I will block it when I get home and anticipate adding about 4 more inches to the length as a result. (8 of 10)

Silky wool is divine. It's a light yarn with a substantial drape. It's heavyish without being bulky. Someday I imagine a sweater made from silky wool.

We revisited Historic Cape May- not for the history but for the shops. That Mr. Sophanne is a dear- I don't go into places because I really don't need anything and I don't want to make him crazy. His reaction is to peek in, see if he sees something I might enjoy looking at and drag me in. He doesn't do this with every place we pass- he just has a 6th sense about- "hey let's look in here."

I did visit the yarn store. Fiber Arts Yarn Shop It was a tall store- somewhat crowded given the displays and the 5 or 6 people that were in there. They were busy. They were selling things. The needles were behind the cash register- "must be 18 or older." (not really)

There was a large selection of novelty yarn as well as natural fibers. Standing out as a potential purchase was some Debbie Bliss cashmerino (oh how I love that yarn) and mmmmkoigu- in limited quantities. There was nothing that I needed or even really wanted so I left unnoticed.

Given that the Brandywine above was knit in stash yarn purchased at least 3 years ago, I believe it all worked out for the best.

Because the house we are staying in was not available for 2 weeks in a row, tomorrow we are packing up and moving 2 houses down. We are also preparing for the second round of family which includes driving to Baltimore and picking up a rental car. This has worked out well primarily because we now "know the territory." We can find putt putt and batting cages and the zoo and Wildwood and ice cream stands.

And - because you never know when kids might want to knit- we can find a yarn shop.

*This title makes me laugh and I looked for an image of "knitting a head" but could not find one.

Fishing? Really?

Mr. Sophanne is fishing. He is happy. I am knitting. I am happy.

While I'm knitting, I'm thinking about fishing. Fishing as a hobby. Fishing as a relaxing venture. I don't get it.

Up to this point while fishing in this bay, he has hooked two horseshoe crabs and two turtles. All have made it back into the water with varying degrees of "hook damage" that I have to pretend they will recover from. My buddhist "hurt no living thing" self recoils when he proudly catches a fish.

I eat fish. I know where it comes from. I'm not a member of PETA. I get the whole food cycle- life cycle thing.

But when I see a turtle or a crab suffering and in the same moment am obliged to say "ooh- you caught something," I struggle.



It's much easier when he plays Mario Video games while I knit. Then I only have to say "Look, Another Gold Star! Woo Hoo!"



Sensitive much?

at the bay

Nothing exciting to report here in vacation land- but I guess that's how it's supposed to be.

Anyone care to guess as to why I become an impatient witch to be around on vacation?

I've got a handsome husband, a great dog, and if he doesn't turn left when I tell him to, I become an eye-rolling devil.

Note to self- work on that.

Mr. Sophanne caught a horseshoe crab whilst fishing. Liza is uncertain. A couple of more dog shots to distract you.

I love them nieces!

These are nieces of Mr. Sophanne- currently Target Employees but the one on the left has a music ed degree (like me.) Right now she's o.k. with staying close to home and mama and sis and living some life. The one on the right is in college. The first time I met them we were making arrangements for their father's funeral. They are a delight. Funny, brilliant, quirky, non-mainstream and quick. Love. Them.

Re: The Superhero of Horseshoe crabs. (pictures compliments of nieces). These guys wash up on the beach and sometimes get flipped over. If their karma is good, the tide carries them back out before the seagulls find them. (They can't flip themselves back) Here you see the before and after pics- one little shove with a croc on my foot sent them on their way.



Just imagine one of those little tentacles squirming around most unexpectedly.



Given last summer's fascination with hermit crabs at the sound, I can only imagine the delight in store for next week when Grandchildren of Mr. Sophanne arrive!

Wildwood, New Jersey

on a Saturday night- what a trip!



That and being the horseshoe crab superhero with her trusty sidekick Lil-Liza were the highlights of the day.

Have you ever seen the squirming underbelly of an upside-down horseshoe crab? Creepy barely describes what it looks like.