Halloween 2009

Help! My son's been eaten by a snake!


And my daughter is just so sweet ...They did some decorating this year ...
and then some sorting and trading of the haul.

Me? I'm a little dizzy and my calves will be sore in the morning.

The dizzy part comes from our Urban Trick-or-Treating where you start on the top floor of a building and work your way down, floor by floor. Since our complex provides "trick-or-treat" posters to put on your door if you want to play, we quickly make our way down the stairs, pausing briefly to see if any doors have the signs up. This leads to us going in an almost constant, tight, spiral as we work our way downstairs.

The aching calves? Hey, we just walked down 42 flights of stairs!

Happy Halloween!

Long Days and Never Ending Nights

So last night I hustled home to cook and sew for my children. (Don't laugh! I really did cook. Sort of. If Macaroni and Tuna counts as cooking ...)

And tonight? After working from 7:30 AM until 8:15 PM I come home to what? Dying my husband's hair? Wrapping my daughter in cellophane? Painting my nails orange?

Or ... All of the Above!

Now to kick the last family member still standing into bed and do a bit of unwinding of my own.

Happy (almost) Halloween!

Ssssss ....

Ssssss .... I'm Sssssewing ...


Sssssee you after Halloween!

(And after Parent Teacher Conferencessssss ...)

Have a Ssssspectacular ... Ssssspooky ... and Sssssilly Sssssaturday!

Product ...

To prevent Cookie from turning blue, I am providing some pictures ...


Keep in mind that the finished product pictured here was not produced recently. Just recently skeined and washed after sitting on the bobbins since my last plying sessions. The socks, by the way, are the property of Little Squid. The green ones are new (finished during the car ride to a recent biking excursion) and the striped ones are last year's issue.

Sweater roving in a partially predrafted form, awaiting my next spinning session.

The current product on the Kromski (singles) ...
and on the Journey Wheel (3-ply).

Today I did knit a fingerless mitt while table sitting at the Manhattan High School Fair. I'll work on the second one for a bit tomorrow but for now ... I have Halloween sewing to do.

Still Spinning ...

Yup, I've managed to spin almost every night this week. Still haven't finished the yarn for Mike's sweater and I really don't expect to until at least Christmas break. I've already plyed two Journey Wheel bobbins worth of three-ply and have a third started with at least a fourth coming off of my totally full Kromski-Woolie Winder bobbins. Dang that winder can pack a lot onto a bobbin!

In the past, 3 Kromski bobbins worth of singles translated into three Journey Wheel bobbins worth of 3-ply. I'll let you know the final count when I'm done with the first batch of plying.

Don't hold your breath waiting for it, though. I'm working the Manhattan High School fair tomorrow and part of Sunday and doing "Mitzvah Sunday" for the rest of Sunday. And somehow writing a weeks worth of lesson plans in my spare time. And shopping for, and possibly sewing Little Squid's Halloween costume ...

Happy Birthday, Mike!

I have now known Mike for more than half of my life (and his).

That's a pretty long time to know someone.

To care for someone.

To Love someone.

***

To a wonderful father ...


... husband ...
and friend ...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!

Still Alive and Spinning ...

Earlier today I bumped into Penny who was happy to see that I was still alive and interested in fibery pursuits. I appoligize to her much as I am now about to appologize to you, gentle reader.

When I started this blog, it was a nice outlet for my literary creativeness. These days, however, that outlet is being found, nightly, as I attempt to craft lesson plans that will capture the imagination (and attention) of my students. By the time I'm done, my urge to write any more is gone for the night. So, too, is my urge to knit or do much more than play Zuma's Revenge.

I did, however, find the urge, still within me, to drive 2+ hours to Rhinebeck, NY to play in the wooly goodness that is the New York Sheep and Wool Festival.

Want to see my goodies? (Get your mind out of the gutter! This is a family friendly blog!)


The pink log is 70% Suri Alpaca, 30% Silk from Flaggy Meadow Fiber Works. The big bump is 100% Coopsworth from Maple Row Stock Farm (no website). The Alpaca was my first purchase of the day and I was so attracted to it that when I went through the barn again at the end of the day, I almost bought it again! Fortunately I came to my senses just as I started to approach the inside of the booth and realized that I had already impulse purchased it. The blue just kind of jumped out at me and clearly stated that it needed to be a nice warm shawl.

Here are an early and a late purchase. The dark blue attacked Little Squid and insisted that he needed his mother to spin socks for him. The lighter blue was missed in the initial attack and was spied jumping into my hands a few hours later just because I really love Grafton Fibers batts.
The brown top on the left is Chocolate Alpaca and Tussah and the lighter brown/grey top is Finn Wool and Yak, both from Shadeyside Fibers. Both were a "I'll remember where they are and come back for them later" purchase which had me miss-remembering what barn they were in and recombing almost all of the numbered barns in search of them . I really wanted some yak and, some more alpaca -- having conveniently forgotten that I'd already purchased some earlier in the day.

The big red bump is 9 ounces of Coopworth dyed with madder and iron from Handspun By Stefania. It was mainly purchased because my Rhinebeck experience would not be complete without buying something from Stefania. I love her naturally died wools and they spin up so quickly!

The kids got some stuff, too.

Squidette got this kit:She is going to dive into Little Squid's domain and attempt some needle felting. Little Squid got some puff balls to do some felting on his own. No pictures of his haul -- he already put it away.

All in all, a lovely day. The crowds were ... well, not crowds. The weather was damp and mildly rainy but we stayed relatively dry. Lunch consisted of lamb ravioli for the kids and lamb and barley soup for me, followed by apple cider donuts, hot chocolate and finally soft pretzels as a snack for the trip home.

The drive was ... well I really don't like highway driving. I just do not know what to do with my foot when it isn't hitting the brake every two seconds. Give me Manhattan traffic any day!

Now, off to do some spinning on Mike's sweater. Have to finish that spinning before I can start in on the new stuff!

Healthy or Unhealthy?

I've been dwelling on this one for a while.

Am I doing myself more harm than good by riding my bike to work.

The ride is relaxing. (good)

Until I slam on the brakes to avoid being doored. (bad)

I get a decent aerobic work our climbing Ceder Hill in Central Park (good),

And then suck bus exhaust on Fifth Avenue. (bad)

I build muscle schlepping 20 or more pounds of stuff every day, (good)

But stress out over inconsiderate folks who park in the bike lane (including those "wonderful" police drills that seem to take up two blocks worth of bike lane across from Madison Square Garden every other week).

So ... what do you think?

Oh, and I almost got blown down by some serious gusts of wind as I made my way home tonight. But the temperature was ideal for riding ...

Whelmed?

I've been overwhelmed, and underwhelmed ... but never whelmed. Until I read Beowulf. And maybe not even then.

I have now seen, for the first time in my life, the use of the word "whelm."

According to the Merriam-Webster on-line dictionary, Whelm means:

1: to turn (as a dish or vessel) upside down usually to cover something: cover or engulf completely with usually disastrous effect

2: to overcome in thought or feeling, to pass or go over something so as to bury or submerge it

O.k.

Probably should have looked it up while I was still reading Beowulf.

I'm done now. Don't really understand the fuss about it ...

Beowulf goes to help out the Danes.

Wounds Grendel. Big Celebration is held.

Grendel's mom comes and seeks revenge for the wounding and kills some Danes.

Beowulf goes and finds Grendal's lair under the sea and finishes off Grendel.

Big Celebration.

Beowulf goes home and mostly lives out his life.

Some foolish person plunders the local dragon's lair.

Dragon gets angry and goes on a rampage.

Beowulf kills dragon and is mortally wounded in the process.

Beowulf dies.

Beowulf is cremated.

End of story.

Did I miss anything?

I think that from now on I'll leave the works written in Middle English to scholars of Middle English.

I was, shall I say, underwhelmed. But I finished it.

Next on the classics list: The Time Machine.

(I've been alternating reading modern junk fiction with classics on my BeBook. Now I'm reading some Barbara Michaels to clear my head of Beowulf. Then back to H.G. Wells who I've really enjoyed so far.)

A Tiny (???) Tallis Bag

Remember when I said that I needed to make a tallis bag for Squidette?

Well I did as promised.

The colors are not what I initially envisioned but rather the ones that jumped out at me in the quilt shop.

And the bag is not quite the size I thought it had to be.

Rather, it is the size that I thought it should be, but not the size it really needed to be.

It's actually about twice the size.
My answer? I'll make a second for Squidette and then make myself an extra large tallis.

Sound like a plan?

Bad Days, Good Days, Skink Nights

No matter how the day goes, there is always a cute, cuddly lizard to come home to a night.




The kid's not bad either!

The Tallis and the Tickets

After my last post, Cookie responded with a good suggestion as to where I could keep the tickets in the future to avoid losing them again.
Her idea is a good one but I suspect I will go back to our old storage spot -- updated for our current family situation.

And here goes another "Mom and the High Holy Days" story ...

Back in the days when Mom and Mike and I would go to services together, we'd walk over to the synagogue with our tickets in our hands. When we got inside and were seated, we all handed our tickets to Mike, who tucked them in his tallis (tallit) bag. The reasoning was simple -- Mom and I usually did not have pockets in which to tuck the tickets. When we could, we let Mike carry the apartment keys in his suit pockets and the keys and tickets were all that we carried. It harkens back to the rules restricting what one can carry on the Sabbath or High Holy days. It also harkens back to the fact that even back then they briefly searched bags and purses and not having one just made entry faster.

Back to the tickets ...

One year we forgot to remove the tickets after Yom Kippor and the following year we discovered them in the tallis bag. And quickly realized that they were exactly the same color as the previous year. Woo Hoo! Extra tickets! This started the tradition of storing the tickets from year to year in Mike's tallis bag. We never used the "extras" but it was always nice to know that we could bring in an extra family member if they wanted to come.

The color of the tickets held steady for several years and then we switched our service preference and started going to the early service instead of the late one. [Our synagogue has so many families that two seatings are required for the High Holy days. The clergy are very careful to make sure that the services are as identical as possible.] The early service tickets were a different color which made the old, hoarded tickets useless to us. We continued, however, hoarding the new tickets until two things happened. One, Mike stopped going to services and two, they started changing up the color of the tickets from year to year. I guess we weren't the only ones who realized what was going on.

This brings us to 2009 ...

As we were toting around Squidette's tallis today, I mentioned that she really needed a bag for it. Carrying around an unprotected tallis is just asking for trouble. Particularly when one does not have a purse to tuck it into and one is going to lunch right after services.

You see, I am still, when possible, carrying on the tradition of traveling lightly on the Holy days. Now, however, I make sure to wear a suit with pockets deep enough to handle my apartment or car keys (one or the other, never both), my drivers license, some cash / credit and a small handful of tissues. Yes, my pockets bulge and look a bit unattractive but I do not have a purse that has to be tucked somewhere out of sight while ushering. I made Little Squid (as the male with pockets) take his (turned off) cell phone so I wouldn't have to carry mine and so we could easily hook up with our friends for lunch after services. Yes, I am already using my son the way Mom used Mike. Squidette did not have any pockets and my shallow suit jacket pockets were already bulging.

***

Tomorrow I intend to take a walk over to the quilting store and see about getting a set of fat quarters in blues and whites. I'm thinking a simple Jewish Star on top of a nice background fabric with a button closure. It has to be a fairly large bag since the tallis is a big one.

Mike offered his tallis bag to the cause but there are two problems with his. One: it's actually a t'fillin bag and hence 1/2 the size of a normal tallis bag and two: we can't find it. We didn't even try to find his tallis for Squidette's bat mitzvah (though we probably knew where it was back then) since his tallis is too small for him. It was bought to fit a thirteen-year-old boy and not a grown man. Instead, Mike wore my dad's tallis and my dad wore my Zedda's tallis. We have a vague idea of where Mike's tallis is but when I looked for it before, to take a photo for this post, I could not easily find it.

So there you have it. The Tallis and the Tickets. Not an especially gripping tale, but one of fond memories and lots of side-references.

Shana Tova -- Happy New Year

I lost my tickets.

Every year our high holy day tickets arrive a month or so in advance of the holiday. I am always very careful to put them somewhere safe.

Well, not always. At least not this year.

Long story short -- I sent an email to the appropriate person and there will be replacements waiting at the door tomorrow night.

***

Now for the long story that is going through my head and keeping me awake. Let's call it ...

Remembrances of High Holy Days before and after ... or ... Missing Mom

Mom (my mother-in-law in this story) has been gone for four full years now. This will be the fifth set of High Holy days since her demise.

I still miss her.

When Mike and I started living together, we also started worshiping together. (Or at least going to services together.)

While I was not a member of our synagogue until after our marriage, I always managed to get in to High Holy day services with Mike and Mom on their extra tickets. Since my brother-in-law was still in school and Mike was in graduate school, Mom qualified for "student" tickets for them. I went on my brother-in-law's ticket. (They don't check names and he was out of town.)

We'd always get there early because Mom liked to be able to "see." She had to be able to view the action on the bemah to be happy. We'd joke about it and tease her about having to stand on line for 45 minutes in order to get the good seats in the sanctuary. After a period of years, we wore her down and convinced her that the balcony was just fine and, that if she got an aisle seat, she could see just fine.

It was a compromise that worked well for several years -- except for the year that we discovered the second row of the balcony. This row, for some strange reason, has at least 2 inches less leg room then the other rows. I have long legs. Very long legs. In the other aisles my knees rubbed up against the back of the seats in front of me. In the second aisle ... let's just say that I made Mom switch seats with me during one of the standing bits so that I could put my feet into the aisle. I had bruises on my knees for a few days after.

---

Once the kids were born, Mike and I worshiped in shifts. He'd go with Mom on Rosh Hashanah evening and I'd go in the morning. The other person stayed at Mom's apartment with the kid(s). For Yom Kippor, we reversed it because he "should say Yiskor* for his father." (In quotes because that was how Mom felt and not what Mike felt.)

Then the kids got older and could come with us and go to the children's programs that ran in the classrooms upstairs in the synagogue.

That's when Mike stopped going to High Holy day services. He's an adult and can make up his own mind. He'd kept going for all of those years to keep his Mom company. Now that the child care issues were over, he allowed me to take that role. Since I wanted to go anyway, it worked. By then, Mom had mostly come to terms with Mike's feelinga about the whole organized religion thing and. as long as she had me, she was essentially o.k. with it.

---

So Mom and I went and after one or two times together, we discovered that if we arrived just as the line was letting into the synagogue, then we could usually find seats in one of the tiny pews at the back of the sanctuary -- the two seaters.

And we were happy.

We'll forget the year that I bit off the head of the temple administrator after I could not find the kids in the rooms that I left them in ...

Then Mom left us.

My vague recollections of that first set of holidays, coming after a summer of packing up her apartment, include Mike joining me, at least for Yom Kippor morning. Because he should say Yiskor for his mother.

That was the only year I asked him to join me though he still asks, every year, if I want him to go wth me.

The next year, I went, essentially, alone. The kids were in their parallel program having a good time. And I had no one to shmooze with before services or to nod with in agreement (or disagreement) during the sermon. Or to compare notes with afterwards.

I joined friends in the auditorium that year for Yom Kippor and discovered great sightlines. When I wondered to Mike, why Mom had never tried it, he said that she hated the chatty atmosphere that went with those wonderful sightlines.

After another set of services there, I understood why. It didn't help that my friends are of the late arriving sort, so I still had no one to shmooze with before services began.

Then, two years ago I was invited to usher ... and the rest is history. I LOVE ushering. The hustle and bustle and movement. While I do not get the quiet, contemplative time that I associate with worship -- hey, I wasn't really getting it anyway. And that's what late nights are for -- like tonight when everyone is asleep and I can think deep thoughts. And share them with you.

---

I had no intentions of going to evening services tomorrow. I figured we'd have a nice family dinner together and the kids and I would go in the morning -- we are ushering. But then I lost the tickets and now I feel that I have to go, just to justify the late email asking for help (I probably could have talked my way in on Saturday since we are on the ushering list).

In a strange way I am glad my hand was forced. I'm kind of looking forward to this now ... Squidette may or may not join me. Little Squid is taking a pass. I'm going to volunteer my services as an expert usher (they thought about upgrading my carnation color last year!) but, if I am not needed, I will ...

Shmooze before the services with my daughter.

Nod sagely with her during the sermon (or laugh discretely).

And truly understand why Mom wanted someone with her. And why Mike went for all those years -- and then always offered to go with me afterwards.

It's about more than the religion. It's about a shared experience and being with those you love during something that is important to you.

***

Shana Tova -- May this year be a good and sweet one and may you be inscribed in the book of life for another year.


*Yiskor: memorial service for the departed

New Addition!

No, not what you think. I'm finished bringing humans into this world. Lizards, on the other hand ...
Meet Lynx (to possibly be renamed later).
Lynx is a blue tongued skink and belongs to Not-So-Little Squid. He arrived at my school this morning courtesy of the wonderful Zach and UPS (and my parent coordinator who bravely brought the box to my classroom).
See how happy they are together?

(After I released little Lynx from his packaging, I kept going over to his temporary "cage" and saying "hi." Periodically I petted him (yup, I stroked his head and back) and cuddled him. I also spoke in a really soft and calm voice the entire time he was in my office. Makes me think that maybe I should get one to keep at work ...)

Oh, and we think he is already plotting with the turtles. They are planning their escape and subsequent world domination.

One More Year

As I sit here and try to compose an appropriate birthday post, I find myself at a loss for words. Instead, tears of happiness and joy cloud my eyes as I try to write down just what about my son makes him so very special to me.

Is it how he always knows when I need a hug?

Or how much he infuriates his dad -- for making the same mistakes that Mike did at that age?

Is it how he constantly takes me by surprise with his talents and his interests?

Or how he is so very like my dad.

Maybe it is because he is so much like his sister, and yet so very, very different.

Or that he is just himself. Our Monster. Our Little Squid.

Happy Birthday, Little Squid.

May you have many, many more!

Just a few more days ...

Summer is over and in a few more days I will have just one more year of being a mother of a pre-teen. Pretty scary. I mean, where did the time go? I swear it was just yesterday that I was holding him and thinking about the true meaning of window-guards. [It was 3 a.m. As an infant, Little Squid was NOT a good sleeper.]

Fortunately, little ones are made cute for a reason -- so that their parents don't kill them in infancy -- and he survived. And in a few short days, he'll be 12.

On Wednesday he goes back to school. For the first time he will be totally responsible for getting himself to and from school. No more big sister to lean on. And no more mom to come running at a moments notice when he gets a mid-morning migraine. He'll have to wait until 11:00 (by which time the migraine may have gone away). I'll be teaching.

Yup. I'm returning to the classroom on Wednesday morning. It's not a new job, just a part time return to my roots. The rest of the day I will still be an Assistant Principal. Actually, I'll be one all day, just one who teaches. I'm nervous and excited. It's been far too long since I had my own class and I miss it. I just hope I have not lost my touch. I'm starting with the egg-in-a-bottle "trick." Wish me luck!

Summer Knits

During our travels there has been lots of small knitting going on.

First, and foremost is the Whisper Cardigan. I spied this in Interweave Knits a while ago and decided that I had the perfect, handspun, yarn for it. And so, I spent months knitting it. That's what happens when one knits a cardigan in laceweight yarn.It came out nice but I'm not crazy about it. It's one of those things that looks better in the magazine then on my body. Oh well, live and learn. I probably still wear it occassionally.

Then there were socks.

And socks.

And socks.
The first pair (right-most sock) was started just before the New Year and finished up just as July began. They are mine. The yarn was purchased in Lancaster, PA last summer so I really had to finish them before this year's trip.

The second pair (center sock) was knit in fairly short order as my "camp pick-up waiting" pair and is for the lovely Squidette. The yarn is a Regia something that we picked up at Webs in February.

The third pair (left-most sock) was my "don't need to look" pair that was started during a viewing of the latest Star Trek movie, continued during Harry Potter, had more inches added while my eyes dilated at the opthomologist, saw some action on the trip to Pittsburgh and was the ONLY project taken on the bike trip. The second sock gained major inches in the corn maze and while sitting around a campfire and was finally finished on our way back from a short trip to the Catskill mountains earlier this week. The yarn is a Regia or a Socking or something like that -- I lost the ball band a long time ago. Squidette picked it out at Webs and it was always designated as socks for Mike. "Blind" knitting often takes the shape of socks for Mike since he has such large feet that I don't have to worry about measuring for very long stretches of time.

And finally, we have Squidette's new gloves. Sport weight alpaca dyed and purchased in Lancaster, PA on our most recent trip. There is more than enough left over for a pair of matching mittens which I will probably start in the next day or two.

Currently on the needles:

the biking socks started last year for the Tour de France Knit-Along,

a cob-web weight shawl which I work on every 6 months or so,

a lace weight shawl which was started a few weeks ago after I finished Swallowtail,

and, a pair of socks for Little Squid which were started today and are about 2 inches in.

I think that's it.

On the spinning front I am working on the main color for Mike's sweater and am making steady if intermittent progress on it. All of the ancillary colors are spun and plyed though only one is skeined so far. I'll skein the other two right before I start plying the main color. That's when I'll finally need the bobbins for my Journey Wheel.

One more day of summer vacation....

Pittsburgh!

Following our adventure on the Great Allegheny Trail, we spent the weekend in Pittsburgh with my brother and his lovely wife.

They took us all over town and we sampled much of what Steel City has to offer, starting with a visit to the Heinz History Center. (Yes, they have a display of ketchup, why do you ask?)
(Interestingly enough, the new Heinz ketchup pin that Little Squid is sport on his hat did not come from here but was given to him a week later at the Railroad Museum of Pennsylvania in Strausburg. Heinz has a lot of history with the railroads, including special cars to ship their products.)

We wandered around the museum for quite a while and hit what my brother considers to be the high point, an exhibit which explains the "Pittsburgh" dialect. Very educational.
Moving on, we strolled the Strip, discovering that Nothing happened in one location,

and having great fried fish in another (no, not at this church).
We finished it up with an over the top dinner for Josh's Birthday. (I was mostly off line for the entire trip, hence not birthday post for my youngest brother.) Don't they look cute!
Taking the dog for a walk, in an attempt to tire him and Little Squid out, we passed a street devoted to garages. I kid you not. It was not a back alley but a real street type street but all the houses fronted on other streets with their garages on this one.
As you can see, the tiring walk only lasted for so long ...
On the last day of our visit we got a tour of Carnegie Mellon University with it's Sky Walk
and painted fence. Apparently the paint is rarely dry on this fence, students keep repainting it. It used to be much thinner ...
CMU has sculpture scattered randomly around the campus. Little Squid particularly liked this one. It made him feel cool on a 90 degree day.
Then, off to the University of Pittsburg's Cathedral of Learning with its historically themed classrooms.





These are supposed to be true-to-life recreations of classrooms in other countries at other times but I suspect that the desktops were added for the convenience of the students who take classes in these rooms. Yes, they are really used for classes.









Josh's favorite is the Israel room with its white board hidden behind the mosaics below.


The common room. Can you imagine this full of students?

After visiting all of the open historical rooms we hiked back, had some lunch and hit the road. More adventures have followed and I promise to share some of them with you soon.