My Uterus Does Better Work

While it may seem that I have dropped off the face of the blogosphere, in fact, I have not. I'm still around - lurking through your posts, often smiling at your stories, occasionally commenting, and occasionally forgetting to comment as I run off to change a diaper or rescue a baby who has spent "just enough time, thanks Mama" in his activity gym.

It seems I'm pretty busy these days - who knew that wiping up spit-up could be a full time job? I have become quite adept at anticipating imminent milky messiness. Despite that, I do currently have a big glob of wet on my shoulder right now as the Mogrunt planted a nice glob of cheese-curdy goodness on me before falling asleep.

Back when the Mogrunt was just a fish in my belly, my SIL laughed when I mentioned that I would like to get some knitting done while off on mat leave. She thought I was being unrealistic, but it seems that, despite the amount of time I spend doing laundry, I am managing to meet my own expectations. I wasn't so disillusioned to think that I would be sitting here with the Mogrunt on my lap, just knitting the days away, but having worked as a caregiver to two young girls, I knew that there would be time here and there to get in a few stitches.

It does seem, however, that blogging about those stitches is a harder task. As I said to my husband's family over Thanksgiving dinner - "Our camera used to be filled with photos of knitting - now it's filled with photos of the Mogrunt." My SIL piped up and said, "And those weren't nearly as interesting."

Seems someone is gunning for a lump of coal instead of a handknit stocking this Christmas.

So, in the last 3.5 almost four months, those few meager stitches at a time have turned into:

A totoro hat and a sweet baby cap:

Pattern: Totoro pattern from Hello Yarn.
Yarn: Debbie Bliss Baby Cashmerino DK
Raveled here.

Pattern: Sweet Baby cap is from Gros Blog
Yarn: made with scrap yarn from a blanket a dear friend made for the Mogrunt
Raveled here.

A pair of mittens for the wee man - with plans for a matching hat:

Pattern: from A Kitten Knits
Yarn: Made with bits and bobs of Debbie Bliss Merino Aran and Cashmerino Aran.
Raveled here

Socks for me so that I can match the Mogrunt - we are sock buddies!

Pattern: 3x1 rib with short row heel.
Yarn: Trekking
Raveled here.

My "Alliteration" sweater for the boy,

So called because it is a Cotton Cashmere Cardigan
Pattern: Organza edged Cardigan from Debbie Bliss special knits - obviously, the Mogrunt chose to "butch it up" a little by leaving off the organza.
Raveled here

I've also made significant progress on the Baby Yours sweater:

Pattern: Baby Yours by the Yarn Harlot
Yarn: STR
Raveled here

However, in all of this knitting, the one finished item of which I am most proud is this, the bear that the Mogrunt will be taking with him to University and quite possibly, on his honeymoon:

Pattern: Debbie Bliss Baby Cashmerino
Raveled here

Yes, ladies and gents, it is finally done. The sweater alone was the cause of much ranting and mental compositions of "Dear Designer" letters. It took two and a half hours just to seam the darned thing! (And that's after I had it seamed at the shoulders and realized that I had only done 3 repeats of the garter stitch stripes at the top of one side and 4 on the other. The sweater almost went out the window of the car on the way home from Thanksgiving dinner in the Annapolis Valley.) We won't even talk about the bear itself because I may start to weep.

It took me almost 11 months to make this bear with my own two hands. Yet it only took me nine months to make a baby with my uterus. My uterus as it turns out has fewer fine motor skills than my hands but while that bear is cute, I think my uterus does better work, as evidenced here:

Look out ladies, he's a heart-breaker.

The Baaaa-studs

Ok, I know that somewhere, someone is going to say that this is cruelty to sheep; making them wear LED lights on their backs.

But my goodness, it's freaking brilliant:

Extreme Sheep LED art

Those dogs have skillz.

This Week in Stephanie

Good gawd, this was a busy week. 

Monday night I got my hair cut again - I went for a trim but got a cut, if you know what I mean. After my haircut, a certain blog slacker arrived for a last minute sleepover. Despite my best intentions, I didn't get to bed until midnight.

Tuesday night was KOL. I met up with one of the KOLers earlier so we could chat. 

Wednesday, I crawled out of bed at 6am to attend my company's charity golf tournament. No, I don't golf, silly. We have to work at the tournament. And we work hard*. But I did get to spend my day like this:

I sat at the 4th hole and explained the "closest to the prize" game that we had set up. It was our first year running that game so the person in charge of organizing the tournament volunteered me to work that tee. It was quite nice at the 4th hole, the sun was shining, there was a hawk flying in the air, the golfers were friendly and funny... and the icy cold wind which was blowing off the lake made me wish I had worn my long stripey socks.

I did a lot of schmoozing with the golfers who came through. They would pull up to the tee, see me sitting there, and would say,

"You're knitting?"

My reply (only to those I knew well) was, "Hey, I may be knitting, but you're golfing. I don't think either of us are in a position to criticize."

On Thursday, I again crawled out of bed at "arse crack o'clock" to drive to Blackville, NB with my coworker. We drove the 4.5 hours to Blackville for a 20th anniversary celebration. We stopped for coffee, but not for lunch, so by the time we were almost there, I was threatening to eat one of the porcupines who had dared to cross the highway (and hadn't made it). Now, I usually try to keep the blog and work quite separate, but I have a good reason for talking about this trip. When we arrived at our destination, this was waiting for us. This, right here, ladies and gents:

is the best damn slab cake I've ever eaten in my life! It was marble cake with the creamiest, lightest frosting. It came from Patty Cakes in the Miramichi. If I ever meet the woman who made it, I'll kiss her right where she eats.

After about 4 pieces, my coworker looked at me and said, "Stephanie, I think you're going to have to drive."

I replied, "Why, Dave?"

Dave burped and said, "I've had too much cake."

heh heh. It was that good.

Dave did drive, despite the sugar high, which allowed me to snap pictures on the way home. This:

is a sure sign that we were in my home province of New Brunswick.

And this:

is a disgruntled postal employee perhaps? (CUPW: Canadian Union of Postal Workers) Needless to say, we didn't tailgate him.

When we arrived home, 14 hours later, there was someone waiting to snuggle with me:

Pippin!

He had actually arrived on Wednesday night, but he looked so cute on Thursday night when I got home.

Ok, ok, one more picture:

Whoop, did I mention that someone got sheared? Pippin spent so much time swimming in the ocean and the lake that his fur was well and properly matted. The groomer released him from his furry straight jacket, making it possible for you to see how fit he is from all that swimming. He has amazingly strong legs.

Who has a six pack? Who does? Who?


* I really don't want to minimize the amount of work that goes into the golf tournament: If you've ever organized an event like this then you understand that it doesn't all come together like magic. There are a thousand tiny details to manage both before the tournament and on the day of. By the time I got to sit down at the 4th hole we had already been at the course for 3 hours.

AAAAH!

ALLERGIC REACTION!

TO MY IMOGEN SWEATER!

HIVES ON MY BACK!!! AAAAH!

*sobs into pillow*


[edited Saturday Aug 16]: This morning I'm not entirely sure what happened. I tried on the sweater just before heading out to do some yard work. I was wearing a tank top at the time. While I was raking the overgrown bed that was full of weeds, my back started itching like crazy. Mr. Happy came home and I asked him to look at my back and he freaked out, saying, "You're covered in hives!" I had about 8 hives on my back. I hadn't felt any insect biting me, so I thought it might be a reaction to something. I went inside, had a shower and had Mr. Happy put some Aveeno cream with menthol on my back to soothe the itching. Within an hour, the hives had shrunk down to little red spots. This morning, they aren't itchy at all.

Checking In

Angie and I just got back from a lovely evening at Janie Clarkson's house. That woman really knows how to entertain.

The ice sculpture of Janie's champion poodle may have been a little over the top, but the rest of the food was so divine that you didn't even notice the poodle puddle collecting near the pate.

:)

We've been having fun just hanging out and doing a little shopping together. It had been four years since we last saw each other, so, for me, it's more important to hang out with Angie and see where she lives rather than to spend all week sight-seeing.

Oh, and, according to Angie, it's much more important for us to work on our dance moves playing DDR.

One of our other plans for this week was to play in Angie's studio. So, today Angie and I did a small amount of crafting. We went to a fabric store yesterday and so today we started making some things with the fabric we purchased. I'm making a box bag from an online tutorial and Angie is making a doll of Minou. She's got a great set-up in there - with two sewing machines, a serger and piles of supplies.

It was fun to pretend I knew what I was doing, but I'm not entirely sure if Angie will ever let me into her studio again. I set the iron on its end (a faux pas with industrial irons, apparently) and opened the end of her chalk marker (spilling chalk all over the place). And I was generally being a pest, asking all sorts of questions.

Our plans are undecided for tomorrow. We've discussed going to Target in the US and going to some other places in Vancouver - we'll see what happens in the morning.

Anyhoo, it's late, so I should get to bed. That Janie Clarkson, she's such a gossip, we stayed way too late after the other guests went home.

Knitting is the new Methadone

First things first - ta dah!

Yarn: Vesper, Aquamelon
Affectionately known as: Strawberry Shortcake socks
Needles: 2.25
State of Happiness: Utter Glee

Next item...

On Thursday the job that pays for my yarn took me to Wolfville, NS where one of our pharmacies sponsored a talk by a doctor by the name of Kenna Stephenson. Dr. Kenna, as she is known, is a lovely woman who works for the University of Texas. She has a great book called, "Awakening Athena". It is hard to sum up her presentation but let me see if I can do it for you:

1. There is more to a woman's health than her uterus.

2. Our hormones affect more than our menses.

3. If our hormones and our lives were more balanced then we could probably be healthier, happier and on less medication... and we would find fewer spouses at the bottom of stairs.

That's the very, very rough summary. Please, please, please, if you have a chance, look in to Dr. Kenna's work and her book.

Before the presentation  the store owners, my manager and I took Dr. Kenna and her husband out for lunch. When we were leaving the restaurant, she asked me if I had made my scarf - I was wearing my Clapotis. Then she told me that she is a knitter as well and that she had a whole chapter on Handwork in her book.

Kenna then told me that studies of people who knit have shown that their "knitting" EKGs are the same as that of people who are in meditative trances. The brain activity in a knitter is in both hemispheres as they are doing something mechanical, mathematical and creative all at once. Then she told me that she recommends handwork to her patients as a form of therapy.

Good heavens, the woman writes prescriptions for knitting!  We all need her as our doctor!  

We then went to Kenna's presentation and were thrilled that over 300 (THREE HUNDRED!) women showed up to hear what it was all about.  

Near the end of the presentation, I heard her say, "Stephanie, could you come up here for a moment?"

I walked to the front of the room and stood waiting as Kenna explained the value of knitting and how I had suggested to her that she must stop by "Gaspereau Valley Fibres" while she was in town.  Kenna asked if I would hold out my scarf for everyone to see.  There were 300 murmurs of approval.  

Then Kenna said to me, "Wouldn't you agree, Stephanie, that you find knitting therapeutic?"

And I said, without pausing to think, "Yes, I've often said it's the only thing keeping me off crack."

While the women had a good laugh, I went back to my seat and wondered if I had scored a point for knitting or not... 

Pattern:  Azure by Deb Barnhill
Yarn: Sweet Georgia - Life Aquatic
Needles: 2.5mm
State of Happiness: blissfully satisfied

Never Hurry Across a Freshly Mopped Linoleum Floor

In response to Angie's post, I would just like to say that it is inadvisable to hurry across a freshly mopped linoleum floor.

Even in a kitchen with an ice pack at your disposal.

Ouch.

Stephilocks and the Two Hats

Once upon a time there was a girl named Stephilocks. (Look, if Goldilocks can be a name, then so can Stephilocks.)

Stephilocks was a determined girl and after reading a book about knitting, decided to knit a fair isle hat for her nephew.

The first hat she knit with Wool Gatto from Lana Gatto.

It was, sadly, too small.

Rather than rip it out, Stephilocks decided to knit another hat.

For the second hat, she decided to use the yarn specified in the pattern. She bought Baby Ull (in 2007) and then she cast on 200 stitches. This should have given her a size between the 22" and 23" inches, like the pattern said. But Stephilocks was a foolish girl and decided to knit the fair isle on needles that were .25mm bigger than what the pattern said to use.

Stephilocks knit and knit and knit on the second hat. She ate porridge of questionable temperature, then she knit some more.

She sat in chairs of varying degrees of comfort while she knit and knit and knit.

She slept in a bed that was just her size and then she got up and knit some more.

Then Stephilocks tried on this hat:

and she cried out, "ARGH! What is this? Some deranged interpretation of Goldilocks and the Three Bears? Am I going to have to knit THREE hats to get it right?"

Stephilocks then put down her knitting and fixed herself a good, stiff drink.

The end.

The Deceptively Large Head Strikes Again

Last night I finished my "Le Slouch" hat, wove in the ends and ran to the mirror to try it on.

Ahem.

It's not so much "Le Slouch" as it is "Le Tuque" on my noggin.

Here's hoping some severe blocking will help.

C'est tragique, ma grande tete!

A Tragic Tale of Handknit Socks

On Thursday I was at the local university interviewing students. I donned my interview outfit - black pants, black turtleneck and my green Travelling Vines scarf. Knowing it was cold outside, I also put on my cozy Posh socks. Remember them? Here they are:

Then I pulled on my "hoochie" boots and, being an earth friendly commuter, headed for the bus station. The bus took me a block from my ultimate destination, and I walked the last bit, silently cursing the boots:

I welcomed the students and sat and talked to each of them for half an hour. By the end of the morning, my voice was going, but my feet felt fine. I checked in with the office and was told that I should take the afternoon off. Yay! I made a couple more phone calls and then set out, on foot, for my SIL's house only a few blocks away. Mr. Happy planned to meet me there.

My feet were about to go on strike when I arrived at the house. My SIL fed us a delicious lunch (squash soup with mushrooms and curry) - and after my feet started to recover I took my bowl to the dishwasher. My SIL commented that I was walking funny.

I said, "My heel feels weird. Just a sec."

I sat down and pulled up my foot to look at my heel. This is what I saw:

With the echo of my anguished scream still sounding in the air, I moaned:

"Darn it, darn it, darn it."

This is my first handknit sock loss. I think I need time to mourn.

One last thing

Ok, before I head off into conference land.

I have been knitting...

Projects on the go:
1. Socks for Mr. Happy - Burnt orange 6-ply Opal - the man has size 11 feet, you think I'm insane enough to use 4-ply?
2. Turtleneck shrug for moi
3. Silk scarf - for ?


Projects recently finished:
1. My dad's Christmas present. (sorry, not telling you what it is, but knitters will know - the Magic Loop ROCKS!)
2. Another Sweet Baby cap - for Tangled Skeins this time!

And I've been stashing...

...and Crap. I wanted to say something else, but I can't remember what it was.

Silly conference... sucking out all my brain cells.

Tuesday morning: I remember now!

It's time for the annual Home Heating Hold Out!

It's the yearly contest of the wills to see how long Mr. Happy and I can last without turning on the furnace. We usually give in some time in early November, when we can see our breath in the morning, and I start using the hairdryer to heat up my pants before putting them on.

Mr. Happy is heading off to the U.K. next week* and will be gone until November 1st. I'll be on my own, wearing my multiple layers of fleece and watching steam curl off my coffee in the morning.

Good times.


*Mr. Happy will be creating a "making of" video for a local musician who is recording in Dover right now.

Henry Takes a Bath

Last Thursday, Henry went to supper with my manager and me at a local Italian restaurant. After supper, I went to work at a career fair and Henry went for a nap in my backpack along with my manager's leftovers - a pasta dish with lots of oil and garlic.

Just before the career fair started, I discovered that Henry had gotten into the leftovers and was covered in oil and garlic. It was awful. He smelled like he had eaten an entire clove of garlic and washed it down with a bottle of extra-virgin olive oil. I squeezed as much oil out of his head as I could, but that didn't help. It was coming out his pores. I tucked him in my backpack and brought him home.

Since Thursday, Henry has been hiding from me because, as it turns out, he was scared of having a bath. It was his fear of shrinkage: He didn't want to end up smaller than he already is.

Men. They're so irrational.

Tonight, after much pursuading, he agreed to have a bath. (I think the smell was getting to him too.)

He insisted on taking a book with him to the bathroom, but I wouldn't let him read it in the bath because I didn't want a soggy book.

He really liked the scent of the camomile shampoo:

Once I filled up the "tub", he jumped right in like an old pro:

The majority of the oil and garlic was on his face, so I lathered him up and then we made shampoo mohawks:

After I was satisfied that I had done all I could with the shampoo, I let Henry relax in the "tub" for a while:

He asked for the candle.

I let him have some privacy and went downstairs for a bit... reassured by the sound of Henry singing and occasional splashes and "bubble" noises. When I figured that he had had enough, I went upstairs and drained the sink.

Erm...

Perhaps I should have worried about "shrinkage" after all?


* Please note: Henry was squished for comedic effect. He did not shrink and was not harmed in any way. He still smells a bit like garlic.

Signs That You Might Be Tired and/or Distracted

1. You pull the espresso carafe off the machine and almost pour espresso into your Shreddies instead of your coffee cup.

2. You walk to the microwave and realize you're about to nuke your Shreddies, not your coffee.

3. You bike to work and realize you forgot to pack your work pants in your backpack.

(Ok, I haven't left home yet, so I'm going to check that last one, especially since I've already done the first two.)

One Block Radio

Ok... Let's move away from the drama on the corner. The more I think about it... well, as I told Becca the other night, "Don't let the china teacups fool you, I can hold my own with the rednecks"

You all know Mr. Happy, the crazy man I'm married to, right? Well, at his studio he's set up a radio transmitter - it's CRTC approved, so he's on the up and up - and he's calling it "One Block Radio". He played some of the promo spots for me tonight.

He plays some Heavy Blinkers tracks in the background while he's talking in this relaxed, late-night radio host voice:

"You're listening to One Block Radio. We're here for your listening pleasure, 'specially if you're on the corner of Main* and Portland, all the way up to Commercial Street and maybe as far down as Oak, if you're really lucky and you've got a big antennae... I guess the man with the biggest antennae wins... or woman... so stay tuned... 107 on the FM dial. One Block."

(I changed all the street names to protect his location.)

In another segment, he cold-called his band-mate, Jason, and proceeded to interview him about their band's upcoming album. Jason giggled through the first part of the call and then totally got into it and answered the questions seriously.

Tomorrow, Mr. Happy tells me he's planning on interviewing another local musicians.

Have I mentioned lately that I love my husband?

Watch out knitters. He has access to some of your phone numbers.

I'll See Your Propeller and Raise You Two Signs

Earlier in the Summer (doesn't Summer seem like it should be capitalized now that the breeze is cooler?) Mike and I talked about a photo challenge.

Mike wrote the following about it:

Some time ago, I engaged in a little unofficial pic-stalking with Steph. That post and the ensuing assertions that I'm some kind of internet lunatic (I didn't argue) led to a heated email exchange which culminated in a photo challenge, of sorts. Unfortunately, we couldn't decide between the following options:

1. One party takes a picture and the other finds the location and duplicates it.
2. A third party names a location and the two bloggers race to take the picture.
3. One party takes the picture and the other takes a similar picture from a different perspective.

The Summer passed and the challenge never got off the ground. Then, Mike took the initiative and took the photo seen in this post

While we don't live anywhere near each other, we have an overlapping territory: Mike works near where I live. Or at least, that's what he thinks (bwah ha ha ha - you'll never know!). When I saw his photo, I immediately recognized the location... but didn't get a chance to get near the propeller until yesterday. Mike suggested that I either take the same photo or get a different perspective on it. I went in for a closeup:



So, now that I've met this challenge, I have TWO for you, Mike. Why two? Well, because I'm not sure if this sign will stay up much longer:



After all, buddy has already sold his battery and truck. Is it really a "four" sale if you're selling more than four items?

Just in case that sign is gone, here's another:



Sadly, this P.I. firm is out of business. I guess that using the stars to guide your investigations didn't prove to be reliable.

So Mike, there you go. Have at 'er.

KOL's Swap-a-palooooooooza

Last Tuesday night at Knitting Out Loud we held our first ever yarn swap. It was the brainwave of The Ninja who seems to be on some sort of prenatal housecleaning binge.

The Ninja called me one day and said, "What do you think about having a yarn swap at KOL?" To which I replied, "Sure. Sounds good." I didn't realize she meant, "What do you think about having a yarn swap in 4 days?" The woman doesn't mess around. Before I could even take a peek at my stash, she had already made up gift bags which included homemade lavender satchets and stitch markers. I think she must have locked Mr. Munchkin in his room for the weekend. I'm still not sure how she managed to get all of this done. I am in awe of her.

So, the night of the swap was quite fun. Alison has pretty accurately depicted our behaviour here. Here are some photos that tell the rest of the story.

The Ninja brought four blankets and labelled them: Good Stuff, Partials, UFOs and Other (Other being Crap Yarn).

Here's the Good Stuff blanket:

The Ninja and I took turns holding up balls of yarn, telling everyone what the item was and then asking who wanted the item. Here are the KOLers trying their best not to reach across the table and snatch yarn from each others hands. They worked very hard at appearing non-chalant all evening:

Some of the Good Yarn was tossed in the "discard for now" corner as we went through the pile. After the organized "auction", the ladies set upon the "discard" pile like drunken cougars on a hot looking 30-something guy with a full head of hair. It was a sight to behold.

Here we see Deb after she drew a line on the ground with her toe, telling the ladies that if they stepped any closer to the yarn she wanted, she was going to kick their arses into next week:

See how she seems to be smiling? She was baring her teeth. The girls are all standing a healthy distance away from her. Hee hee. (Deb was probably regaling them with a story of her latest sock conquest.)

Henry and the Geek shared a tearful goodbye. The Geek is moving to Toronto. We'll miss her horribly:

This smooch was the most G-rated of the evening. Henry has taken to bed and has been watching Casablanca over and over and over again. It's sick-making.

At the end of the night there was quite a bit of yarn left over. Moe decided to take it all home. She broke down and confessed to us all that she harbours a secret desire to knit with acrylic/mohair blend.

It's shameful, but now that she's out of the acrylic closet, there's no holding her back.

Again, kidding. This is the donation bag. Moe kindly offered to deliver it.

It was a great night. I came home with less than I had taken, which was my goal, and was thrilled to be able to bring some things home for my mitten-knitting grandmother.

Scout's Honour

I was never a Girl Guide, nor a Brownie but now I can be a Knitting Scout! Thanks to The Natural Bardo for the heads up.

My badges:
The “Proselytize Knitting” Badge:

The “Knitting Has Forced Me to Seek Medical Attention” Badge (Level One):

The “MacGyver” Badge (Level One):
The “Knitting Whilst Under the Influence” Badge:

For your badges, go to Cast On

How I Got Over My FO-bia

Last week I had a bad case of FO-bia. I had a big project, a deadline, lots of yarn to distract me and the fear of failure. For most people, the FO-bia usually strikes at before the Christmas holidays, or a dear friend or family member's birthday, but for me, this FO-bia was brought on by wanting something fun to wear to my cousin's wedding.

Just before I went to Newfoundland, I cast on for the Travelling Vines shawl from Dogs Steal Yarn. I had been hoarding some very special green yarn for a special project - Tangled Skeins yarn - Silk and Camel blend. (Yes, Camel. I KNOW!)

I had about 3 pattern repeats done when I landed in St. John's and about 5 done when I got home (You can't knit lace during the down times at a conference: There just aren't enough down times!). I was bound and determined to get the shawl done before my cousin's wedding this Friday - the 27th. Failure was not an option.

As far as I can tell, there's only one thing that can help you when you have the FO-bia and that thing is monogamy.

Now, we all know that the majority of knitters are fickle people. We flit from project to project like butterflies in a field of flowers. In order to get the shawl done I needed to ignore my inner knitter.* Basically, I told her to shove it and I committed myself to the project. I arrived home from Newfoundland on July 13th and I started knitting.

And I knit.

and knit, and knit and knit. I screened my phone calls. I locked the door. I pretended I was Deb Barnhill, the knitting machine with a 50gram-a-day habit. I slept, ate and drank with that project. The shawl may have accompanied me to the bathroom.

I even borrowed The Ninja's copy of the new Harry Potter book and didn't read a single page. Not one page. Not until I bound off the stitches on Sunday night.

Yarn: Silk/camel blend
Needles: 4.0mm Brittany
Pattern: Travelling Vines - Dogs Steal Yarn

On Monday night, 10 days after I got the FO-bia, I blocked the shawl. And then I sang the theme song to Rocky.

This kind of commitment is rare for me. To say I'm proud of myself, well, that might be an understatement.

Now I've got a raging case of Startitis.

Oh, let's just look at the shawl again, it's just that pretty.

*Inner knitter: You know her, right? She's that voice in your head that hollers, "Buy YARN!" whenever you encounter a yarn shop. She's the twitch you get in your fingers during a long meeting. She's the child-like creature who makes you want to gather all the yarn at a sale into your arms and holler "MINE!" while you fend off other knitters with your tiny feet. Yeah. Her. You know who I'm talking about.

The Big Fog Horn - A Morning Tale

Last night, when I opened my bedroom window a gentle breeze lifted the curtains like a child playing hide and seek. I went to bed at a decent hour (not easy for a night owl like me) and looked forward to waking up refreshed at 7am this morning. I fell asleep listening to the sound of the occasional car driving past the house.

This morning, I was pulled from dreamland by a persistent noise. With my bleary, nearsighted eyes, I first checked the time (5:45am) and then squinted at the window. The sky seemed bright but grey. Then the noise sounded again.

Baaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrp!

Whuzzat? Huh? I know that noise. Ugh. Fog horn, those persistent

Baaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrp!

little buggers. Surely, in this day and age there is another,

Baaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrp!

less noisy way, to warn boats of the shore. I stumbled out

Baaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrp!

of bed and shut the window. Then, I pulled a pillow

baaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrp!

over my head and tried to go back to sleep.

When I emerged from my tortured slumber an hour later, the sky was sunny and bright.

There are many perks of living so close to the harbour and then there are those early morning wake-up calls.

How to Scare Away the New Neighbours

Tonight, I talked to the daughter of the rhubarb patch neighbour. She informed me that the house sale is finalized tomorrow. The only things she knows about the new owners are:

1. They bought the house
2. The city has approved the lot being divided.

I am alternating between:
1. Fear.
2. Tears.
3. Outrage.

To think that someone might divide that beautiful lot into piddley lots and build a house on there is horrifying. Not only is it a beautiful garden, but well, we're scared for the big tree in the yard. We love that tree. I've already threatened to throw myself between the tree and the tree cutters. My only problem? I'm leaving for Newfoundland tomorrow night. By the time I come home, they may have toppled the shed already!

We've had it so good here at the Happy House. Despite our location, we have a fairly quiet back yard. I'm really worried about having neighbours who can see in my kitchen window.

Angie and I were discussing ways to make the new neighbours reconsider their decision:

Me: Ok, here's what we're going to do. Andrew and I are building a 9 foot fence and... and... we're going to be rude.

Ang: hee hee

Me: and we're going to walk around outside in outfits that would make a redneck proud. there's going to be a lot of arse scratching, farting and "adjusting".

Ang: so nothing new then HAHAHAHAHAHA

Me: No, not really

Ang: You should call andrew cletus and he should call you brandine and you should adopt 14 kids with different diseases for names gonerreha (i know I spelled it wrong) is a pretty name

Me: Little Gonner. That's a good boy's name!

Ang: gonerhea is a girls name, by the way

Me: "Gonner, you get your finger outta yer nose, unless you're sharin' with your sister, Rhea!"

Ang: hee hee you are perfect for the part. you need to get a mullet and/or a perm

Me: And stop dying my hair with expensive dye, just use Sun In

Ang: and cut of all your shirts at the navel and don't let andrew diet. He needs to start standing in the front yard with a beer
shouting at nothing

Me: Heh heh. I think we'll have twins, Gonner And Rhea.

Ang: nice


So, that's the plan. Operation Gonorrhea.

Wish us luck.