Norwegian Christmas Stocking

I decided to knit a Christmas stocking for my son. It was kind of spur of the moment. I got interested in Norwegian knitting about four years ago and have made a couple stranded projects. I joined a Norwegian Sweater Knit Along and was reading up. More about that later, I'm planning a Fana cardigan.

I had red, white and black Cascade 220 left over from a test project felting stranded patterns.

The charts and inspiration come from "Everyday Knitting: Treasures from a Rag Pile", "Knitting in the Nordic Tradition", and "Traditional Scandinavian Knitting". I planned on making it just like a sock, but when I got to the toe shaping I decided to move the decreases so that the foot would lie flat, like a Christmas stocking.

As it progressed, I was happy with the way each section looked. I was a bit concerned that the checkerboard was going to pucker, some of my floats were too short. I thought the heel was too big. And I didn't like the transition from heel to foot. I wish I hadn't decreased along the bottom.

When I got it off the needles, I was even less happy. The ribbing should have been taller; the checkerboard was out of scale and puckered; the name was too close to the edges; the hearts didn't show; and even my husband said the foot looked weird. He's the one who talked me out of ripping back to the heel when I got done with the stars! But then he said, as a complement, that it looked like a sock, a giant's sock. Great.

Here it is pre-blocking:


I decided to cross my fingers and full it a bit to see if the puckering would go away. I put it in the sink with hot water and dish soap; agitated and rubbed it together a bit. It shrank just a little, but a lot of the flaws disappeared diminished. I was happy that the hearts "popped". I blocked it, forcing the name to the front, and pulling out a bit of the funky foot decreases.


Here it is hanging up. It is pretty rustic, but that's okay, I have come to like it quite a bit.

Christmas 2007 Recap

Well, that was a very different Christmas!

• We didn't go to the candlelight service because I couldn't bear to wake my son up at 10:00 p.m. First time I have missed it in years.
  
  
• Said son woke up screaming at 3:15, and took half an hour to calm down. We don't know what gives with the kid.
  
  
• He wakes up for good at 6:15, and *warning graphic* out of the blue vomits on me in such a way that I have to take a shower. So much for a sleepy Christmas morning together snuggling in bed.
  
  
• Open presents and it turns out my husband has tricked me, in a good way. I ordered knitting books for myself on his behalf so I would get exactly what I wanted. Well, he has gone out and got me other gifts that are just right for me.
  
  
• Person close to me has not spoken to me in months. Doesn't even send card or email for Christmas. HO HO HO.
  
  
• We decide to go to the zoo. Here we are on the carousel. We also saw the big cats get fed.

Did I mention it was the San Francisco Zoo? Yeah, fortunately we left at 3:00. I totally freaked out when the news alert came on about the tiger attack. I go to the zoo at least once a week. Usually we see the giraffes fed at 4:00. Luckily Dad & Kid were too tired to stay, or we could have easily stretched the trip until 5:00. I couldn't stop thinking about the families of the victims and any witnesses, and the zoo employees who have to go back there.

All day I was joking that this would be remembered as "The Christmas I Got Puked On", instead it will be remembered in all seriousness as "The Christmas We Didn't Get Killed by a Tiger".

God Jul

God Jul from the Korknisse crew!


Pattern: Made by Manne
English Translation: Saartje Knits

Merry Christmas

Our stockings are hung by the chimney with care,
in hopes that Peace is with all you out there.

No Peeking Under My (Tree) Skirt

This is our tree. It is small, up high and started with no breakable ornaments.


The guy on the right the reason for our truncated tree.


This is the angel I embroidered many years ago. I just love her.


This is the ornament that my friend Linda painted, inspired by rosemaling. She loves purple as much as I like pink. She sold her ornaments at a craft fair this year and made one pink one. Luckily I got it.


This is the tree skirt I finally finished last week.


I have made the pattern a couple times before. It isn't hard but a little time consuming and of course I had to have the iron, and other dangerous implements out in the process. It was a challenge to get it done with a toddler helping. I knew it wouldn't be perfect. However, if I were to let you peek underneath, you would see the visible seam where I pieced the backing fabric. Yes, I cut, pinned and sewed the entire backing on upside down without noticing. Ugh!!

Knitting In Public

The other day my husband and I traded jobs. He stayed at home with Mr. Tippy Toddler, and I went downtown for some fun and games with the Building Department. I took my Christmas stocking project with me.

A contractor and I were commiserating about how maddening and time-consuming it is to pull permits and deal with bureaucracy. He said he usually sends his "guys" to do it. I told him that my husband is a general contractor and usually sends me, and I have to drag my toddler along, but that day I was so happy to be alone, that I wouldn't let anything bother me. He said he noticed I brought my knitting. I told him that way, I don't feel like I've wasted a bunch time, even if denied the permit. Which I was.

I was knitting on the streetcar on the way home when a man got on through the door near me and shouted belligerently "it says press the button when lit and I pressed it." Oh dear! I intensely knitted, praying "please, please, don't start talking to me, drunk, dis-shelved man."

He immediately sat down near me and barked "knitting or crochet?" I had not made eye contact. Should I pretend I didn't hear? No, don't be judgemental. We had the following conversation"

Me - "Knitting."

Him - "It's an art, you know."

Me - "Thank you. Not everyone feels that way."

Him - "They don't know how hard it is. My mother knitted."

Me - "My grandmother taught me."

Him - "Is that knitting or crochet?"

Luckily we were at my stop.

Turkish Delight!

Remember my disappointment with Turkish Delight?

I didn't get a response from the email I sent to Turkey. I found out the company has an outlet in New Jersey and contacted them for help. I got an email a few days later from Turkey. A little back and forth and I was told that it sounded like the product I purchased was in an outdated package and damaged by heat.

Just three days later UPS delivered this:


Inside I found this carton:


Inside the carton was Double Pistachio Turkish Delight:


It was good:



So good that our dinner guest, who ironically had been in Turkey about the same time I wrote my first rant, said it tasted like what she on her trip. If the house wasn't full of Christmas cookies right now, the whole package would be gone.

Thank you, Gulluoglu.

Housekeeping

Loyal Reader(s?),

I've tried to make some improvements to my template. I've got categories over on the sidebar now.

I'm also working on updating my link lists, and organizing them a bit.

I'm using a classic Blogger template, so I have to edit the html, instead of dragging and dropping icons. It's kind of fun to learn. I started playing with in last month to add the NaBloPoMo badge. Then I added Stat Counter code. Obviously I have a lot to learn - I can't get the "previous post" list to match to others at the moment.

Mt. Lassen

Well, there's nothing like a contest to get me to post! And OMSH is throwing one perfect for me. You just have to post a picture of yourself making a funny face, like this:


This is a self portrait of me at the summit of Lassen Peak in Northern California. Why is it a self-portrait? Because my husband, a former beaver trapper from New England, was too cold to go to the top. He hunkered down with this guy:


Yeah, there was a little snow but it was September, and the mountain is only 10,462 feet high. On my way up I passed a person with a cane, and a toddler. Not a Sunday stroll, but not that strenuous. See, just a little snow:


Okay, it was pretty cold, but I was on a mission. The first time I went to Lassen there was too much snow, even in July, to hike up, this was about 1991. The second time, in about 1999, the trail was clear, but halfway through it got cloudy and my hiking partner insisted we turn back.

I'm sure I'm not the only one who takes or lets others take silly photos of themself. So head on over to the contest, you have until midnight Thursday.

Noooo!!!!

Can you freaking believe it??? I missed the last day of NaBloPoMo by 1 hr 40 min?

It was due to illness, I swear. I had to go to a play rehearsal for my Daughters of Norway Christmas Party last night. I am sick as a dog with some rattle in my chest. And my back is out. But, I dragged myself there. Finished my sock, and took photos while we waited to get started so I would have post fodder. We practiced and I got home at the very late hour for me of 9:30. I immediately took the baby to bed so my husband could shower and go to bed because he has to work tomorrow (really today it is 1:40 a.m.). I was sick and coughing for quite a while. Then the baby got sick and we all got up. I was trying to get back to sleep just now when I remembered.

Anyhow, here is the one pair of socks I fixed over Thanksgiving:




If you recall, I had two very different socks, and not enough yarn. I frogged the original sock, used a little bit to finish the second sock, and then made a new sock. It turned out fine and the socks fit and are cute. They don't match and I like it that way.

Peanut Buttery

One guess. Who let Bubba eat peanut butter out of the jar? Mom or Dad?

Burners are Everywhere

You never know...



where you'll find...



the man...



This one was on Sauvie Island, Oregon

There's No Place Like Home

This photo mirrors how I felt when we got home from our week's vacation. Warm and cozy.

Just Little People

When I was pregnant my husband kept saying "I hope you know about babies, because I don't." He thought they were aliens. I kept telling him that babies are just little people. I kept hammering the idea in. One night there was an almost toddler at a dinner party we attended. He was drinking out of cup, and my husband said in amazement, "look, he's drinking out of a cup. And he's wearing shoes." I just stared at him and he said, "like a little person. I get it!"

I take my son to "child observation" classes run by the community college. The kids get to play, the mothers talk, and it is run by an instructor. When I watch all the toddlers at play, I think of all the potential there. Who knows what they will do, and see, and become? They are little people. I think that we are, to a great extent, born with our personalities. Some are outgoing, others more introspective. Sometimes, if I look just right, I can imagine the room full of adults, not kids. How lucky we are to watch these little people develop.

NaBloPoMo Day 25

Today is my son's sixteen-month birthday. I wonder when we will stop counting months and start couting in years?

We went to our first cyclocross bike race today. Pictures to follow.

Almost have one sock problem fixed.

I haven't found participating in NaBloPoMo as hard as I thought. I have plenty to say and show, I'm just a bit short on time to write and get photos uploaded, etc. Hope to do better before we're done.

Deja Vu

The other day I was lying next to my son as he fell asleep for a nap, and I got the strangest feeling of deja vu. I was thinking about what snack I could eat while I got on the computer to finish writing the previous day's blog post. I remembered I bought a bag of Smart Popcorn the day before, when the feeling hit me. I remembered sitting in what was then our office/sewing room working at the computer wondering what it would be like when the baby was here and experiencing a strong sense of deja vu at that time.

I don’t know a lot about deja vu, it’s something I would like to read more about, but I have felt it quite a few times. But there have only been a couple times when I have had a feeling of deja vu about a time I had deja vu.

I wonder what triggered it? We just got through moving the baby’s crib and adding a climbing structure in his room, maybe that reminded me of getting ready for his birth? But, no, at the time I had the original feeling we hadn’t made any changes to the room. Maybe I was working on this same blog that day and eating popcorn? Is it that simple? Did I just imagine that I had a feeling of dejavu last year?

Memory or imaging? I wonder?

Watch It, S.F.

Dear San Francisco,
There are so many reasons I love you. Your sights and sounds. The fog that wafts in and over you, keeping us cool and you subdued and vaguely mysterious. The fog horns that announce it. The view of the bay, downtown, and the Golden Gate Bridge towers as you drive in from Marin. Nooks and crannies, and alleys and stairways with names. Oh, and you have such good food. Thai, Italian, Indian, Japanese, fancy, cheap, sit-down, take out. And the ultimate food: a burrito from Gordo’s. How multi-faceted you are: you have quiet neighborhoods, museums, the beach, a National Park, bookstores, Chinatown, North Beach, the Mission. How could anyone ever get bored?

You certainly have your conveniences. MUNI goes within four blocks of almost anywhere in the City. And one can read a book or knit or daydream instead of driving and then searching for a parking place. There are plenty of late night groceries, drug stores, bookstores and bars for all our needs. Fifteen minutes to the airport and you are on your way to anywhere. You have nice neighbors, too: Berkeley, the Marin Headlands, the Russian River. Miles of hiking trails on the Peninsula, in the East Bay, up North.

But sometimes, my dear S.F., I fantasize about leaving you. Leaving you for a place less crowded. Especially on days like today when I happily went out to take my son to see a friend only to discover that someone had keyed not only the passenger side, but also driver side of my truck. My beautiful red truck, the first new vehicle that I have ever owned. You house some rotten people, I must say, City by the Bay. Sometimes I just want to get away to a friendlier place, a place where people stop at stop signs, don’t spit on the floor of the bus, say “thank you” when you spend money in their store. Yes, I take things too personally, but other things have been bugging me lately: graffiti on people’s homes makes me sad, trash on the sidewalks, too.

I know there are bad people everywhere, but there are just so many in your seven by seven square miles one can’t help but run into them often. And it is easy to be anonymous in a big city. Even though we are surrounded by people it is easy to think no one cares or notices what we do, the good and the bad. It really makes me sad sometimes to drive on the freeway, each of us in our little box. I’ve had lonely nights when I looked out the window, unable to count all the numerous lights in other homes, thinking I can’t be the only one needing a friend.

I know you think you have a pretty good hold on me. I was born here, have fallen in love here, had my heart broken here, grew up here, even went to college here, and now am raising my son here. You know how I enjoy taking him to the places I loved growing up. But don’t be so sure of yourself. Remember, I am married to a man who has lived in and loved many places. He would not hesitate to leave you for a new town. And I wouldn’t mind having some room. And some peace. And more than one Country music station. But there would have to be a taqueria. Even Hood River, Oregon has a taco truck, thoug. Better watch out, S.F., you are really ticking me off.

Happy Thanksgiving

Hope everyone is having a nice day with their friends and families.
I am having one of the lowest stress Thanksgivings ever. We are going to friends of my in-laws. I didn't have to bring a single thing!

I Think I See Dead People

You know how you think you see someone who has been dead a long time? You are walking down the street and a person with the same build or hairstyle or whatever passes you and your mind tricks you into thinking it’s them. My father has been gone for six years, but sometimes I swear I see him. When he first passed away I would see him all the time. Once I was convinced that I hadn’t really watched him waste away from cancer, that he just decided to put on a big show so that he could start another life somewhere new.

A couple weeks ago when I found out an old friend died I started seeing all kinds of dead people. On one trip out on errands I saw my father, both of my grandmothers, and a friend who died of breast cancer. I "saw" her at the grocery store right after buying a pink breast cancer awareness bracelet.

I think our brains try to help us cope with loss. If we can still see our loved ones we are reassured that we have not forgotten about them. Othertimes I think that they are actually visiting us from the beyond.

Sock Problems

I've got two pairs of problem socks. I hope to fix them over the next week.

Problem socks numero uno:
1. Not enough yarn to finish sock number two:


2. Fist sock too big:


3. Toe of first sock is stiff. Suspiciously like the way you would expect it to feel if a small child gnawed on a teething biscuit and then stuck sock in his mouth.

Theory:
I took the warning on the sock label (it is Cascade Fascination, part elastic) to not stretch the yarn while knitting a little too seriously, especially since I knit loosely to start with. This resulted in a too big sock, and caused me to run out of yarn. I knit the second one with more tension.

The plan:
Frog entire first sock. Use resulting yarn to finish second sock. Hope against hope that there is then enough yarn to do a new sock at the correct gauge. Ignore foreign substance, it ought to wash out.

Here's how they compared in size:



Problem Socks Numero Dos:

1. Again, sock number one (top) is too big:

2. Is a victim of pooling on the foot.

Theory:
I tried to get tricky after reading: Getting Started Knitting Socks by Ann Budd. This is a great book! I highly recommend it.

My problem is that I have a long wide feet, narrow heels, normal ankles, and sturdy legs. Store bought women's socks are too small for me, men's a bit large. That's why I want to knit my own socks. I took all my measurements and decided that the basic formula of the leg being 100% of your stitches, ankle 50%, foot 100%, 50% at the toe, down to 20% would not work for me.

So I fiddled with the numbers, made the leg bigger with bunch of decreases down to the the ankle. Well, the top was too big, and the decreases too close together. And the ankle still to big. The foot was okay.

I used fewer stitches for the second sock and was much happier with it. The cuff fits better, the ankle still just a bit loose. I also decided to make it shorter, to hit my calf at a more flattering spot.

Here is a photo of both of them. The first sock (right) really fits worse than it looks:


The Plan:
Frog the first sock from the top down, and then knit back up based on what I did for the second sock. I don't know if this is even a viable solution. We'll see. Ignore the pooling. I actually like it. Looks like lightning to me.

Shameless Self-Promotion

First off, be warned I'm am writing this post so I can enter a contest and to make my NaBloPoMo quota for today.

You may have noted Manolo's Shoe Blog over on my link list. He has been a favorite of mine, and over the years he has added several blogs. My favorite at the moment is Ayyy! Recently he added Teeny Manolo, if you are interested in kids, kid's fashion, and celebrities check it and The Glinda out.

Tomorrow we should be back to talking about knitting.

Somewhat encouraging words

I was taking a much needed walk to the market a little while ago while the "men" watched Sunday Night Football. I had my knitting bag along, hoping to sit in the coffee shop for a few minutes and swatch some alpaca I just bought. I have been fondling this yarn in the LYS for months, dreaming of using it for a stranded sweater I hope to design for myself someday.

As a passed an apartment building I saw a middle aged women with an overnight bag head towards a car, followed by a man in his thirties with another overnight bag, followed by a pregnant woman in a green scarf. I noticed she was quite composed and carrying a knitting book.

It looked like they were going to the hospital, with the bags and all, but it was nothing like when I went. They weren't frantic or rushing. Whereas, sixteen months ago I was screaming with contractions one minute apart. I could barely get in the truck. My neighbor was staring (little did I know I was almost 9cm by then).

I went for it and asked the three "is this it"? The future grandma smiled and said "yes". I think the mom-to-be smiled. I was so happy for them. I felt blessed to see these people as they were about become parents. I wanted to say something brilliant and encouraging. I said, "good for you. You are about to have the most amazing few hours of your life." I got a block away and wished I told her "you are about to have the most amazing moment of you life, when you hold that baby the first time." And I really wish I had given her the skein of yarn as kind of a good luck charm from one knitting mom to another.

A Waste of $5.99

Edited 12/22/07 - see happy ending to this story here.

Dear Golden Bridge Enterprises,
I am writing to complain about a product you import, "Sultan Special Turkish Delight", made by gulluoglu, code 582. I sent them an email several weeks ago, but received no response.

I purchased this product for $5.99 at my local produce market. Here is a photograph of the package:


I didn't know exactly what Turkish Delight is supposed to be at the time, but judging by the photo it looked like it would be a juicy variety of treats with coconut, sesame seeds, and pistachios.

Imagine my disappointment when I opened the package and saw this:


First, there are only two kinds, not four like on the package. Second, they are not individual treats rolled in coconut and nuts, but just cut off a big roll. None have a piece of pistachio on them.

Here is a photo of the package and product together:


I tasted one and it was hard, dry and flavorless. I have since researched and found that Turkish delight is supposed to be soft and sweet.

Here is the back of the box:



"Special" Turkish Delight? Hardly. This is nothing short of false advertising. The photo shows four kinds of confection there are only two. They are not covered except the edges. They do not have slices of pistachio, only ground up pistachio. I looked at the ingredients list and sesame seeds aren't even listed, but there's a sesame seed confection on the package.

I look forward to hearing from you and receiving a refund of 5.99.

Best regards,

Protea

Snapped this at the zoo yesterday.

Measure Twice Knit Once

This is a 12" square I knit for an afghan that is going to be auctioned off at a benefit for an injured cyclist. Ali posted on Ravelry asking for knitters to contribute a square for Amy who was hit by a drunk driver, is unable to work, and has medical bills to pay.

I said "sure", and went to get some blue worsted weight yarn the next day. Ali is going to be sewing all the pieces together (and knitting a bunch herself) and wisely asked that all the squares be a shade of blue and have a 1" garter stitch border for uniformity. I swatched, did math, cast on, and double-checked the width after a couple inches. It was 12" so I kept going, and after a couple evenings was near the end, and measured to see how close I was to 11" to change back to garter stitch. Well, I was at 10.5" but something looked wrong, the piece was was more of a rectangle than square. Uh oh. I measured and it was darn near 14" wide.

So I frogged and counted the number of stitches that equaled 12" and cast on again. After a few inches it was still wrong! At least I didn't get 10.5" through again. I added just a couple stitches and everything was fine. I actually finished it in about 28 hours. I blocked it last night.

I wish Ali luck. She is a good friend to Amy. I once had to piece together a group quilt where all the squares were supposed to be the same size. They weren't and I had to fiddle and fudge the border strips to keep it square, for the class show. Hope to see a picture of the finished afghan. It's neat to see other people's interpretations and talent. I bet some will be cabled and fancy, while others will be simple like mine, which just has a garter ridge every few rows.

I think it is so cool that people do knitting and sewing for others, be it chemo caps, blankets or quilts. It benefits the maker, too, it feels good to stop for a moment and think about others.

When Tile Attacks

I've been learning a lot about residential remodeling since I met my husband. Some of it is mundane, like the difference between eggshell, semi-gloss, and glossy paint. Some of it is more sinister. Today I learned that ceramic tiles are pure evil.

See this pretty tile, the blue one? Not the glass tiles, they are innocent.

Well, my mission was to get it here today in "quarter round". This is quarter round. I collected about five of them in different colors trying to find a match. Looks pretty benign, huh? Just wait.


It was critical that it get here today because it is the very last piece the tile installer needed. If it didn't get here he would couldn't finish and the painters couldn't get started on time, and we are under a very tight deadline. I already spent a considerable amount of time tracking down the right color due to a screw up with the original order with the designer.

So I placed my order on Monday with a company nearby, who had to ship it from their warehouse in Texas. They were to ship it Tuesday to arrive today. I called yesterday afternoon to get a tracking number, and after some difficulty finding my order I was told they didn't have the number yet, but was assured the order shipped, and I could call today at 7:30 a.m. to get the tracking number. When I called this morning, same thing, trouble finding my order, but I got the tracking number and found that the package was at FedEx's warehouse and was guaranteed by 3:00. I was hoping against hope that it would come earlier so I could take it to the job site. I checked a while later on-line and the package was out on the truck.

I hung around the house all day, and no package. I even went downstairs around 1:00 to check if maybe a neighbor was going out when FedEx came and they signed for it and left it, not knowing it was urgent. I went back on-line around 2:00 and it said package delivered at 11:50 a.m., to the wrong city. You cannot imagine the dread I felt about having to call and tell my husband he would not have it today, or at a usable hour tomorrow.

I immediately realized that the salesperson forgot to change the ship-to address to mine, and shipped it to their warehouse. No wonder they could never find my order. I was screwed. There was no way I was going to drive to their warehouse and get the tile, and get stuck in traffic on the way back. We stayed in the house all day, I didn't dare even go out for a little while and leave a note asking FedEx to leave it. It was that serious. At this point my son needed to get fresh air and run around, not be forced to ride around in the truck. Did I mention the $45 I paid for shipping?

I called, got the person who took my order, told him what happened and yet again he had trouble finding my order. I had to give him the tracking number. He then told he would ship it to me and I would have it tomorrow. I said no way. I asked why they thought I kept calling for the tracking number for an order being shipped to them? And why would I have paid $45 for something unless I really needed it? He put me on hold. Finally he said he was coming up here that evening and could drop it off but not until after 5:00p.m. I said great, as long as my husband had it by 6:00 in the morning.

I made the call to my husband. He was dubious. But I was confident. The guy was either nice and wanted to do right, or was not going to let anyone find out he made a mistake. Either way I didn't care, as long as I got it. A while later, while starting dinner I was horrified to see blood streaks on my son's face. I couldn't find a cut. Then I realized it was his hand bleeding, and the blood was from him sucking his finger. I found a cut on his knuckle. On the floor was a broken quarter round tile. Yes, I let him have quarter round tile, knowing he likes to throw things, knowing tile breaks, especially when thrown onto... a tile floor like our kitchen. They just seemed so solid. Genius.

It was one or the other of these evil pieces of ceramic:

Obviously the tile nation had come together to give me grief. First by stressing me out by colluding to get the tile guy to mis-ship my package, and then by tempting me with their beauty to to the point of allowing my son to sort and carry them around, and ultimately cut himself.

So he's bleeding, not too badly, but it is getting everywhere. It won't stop because it's his knuckle, which he keeps bending and sucking on. Can't keep pressure on it. Try a tight band-aid, he chews it off. Try holding his arm up, he screams from the imposition of not being able to use his hand. I'm trying to help him and hoping that the tile guy doesn't show up right then. To my credit, I did not attempt to take a photo for you, my dear internet, I dealt with his pain.

I think of the irony that I'm desperately waiting for tile while dealing with a tile-related injury. Thankfully my husband drives up. Dinner and bedtime proceed. No tile comes, though. Finally, after father and son are sleeping and I'm trying to come up with a post here, I see a car outside. Thankfully it was the tile guy. I rush to the door so he won't ring the bell and wake the baby. I go downstairs, crossing my fingers that they are the right color and shape, wouldn't that be the icing on the cake getting the wrong thing after all that? They are correct. I peek in the bedroom to let hubby know so he won't be awake all night worrying about the job.

All that fuss for this. Eleven blue tiles. From Hell:

Regular Customer

Today, in my capacity as Operations Manager of Viking Princess Construction I patronized the San Francisco Dump. It turned out to be a day full of feathers in my cap.

First, my mother, who was along as baby entertainer, was impressed that I knew a direct route across town from baby swimming lessons to the dump. It's through neighborhoods we don't often traverse.

Upon weigh-in, I was greeted by "J" who just said "San Francisco, right?" (You have to declare where your junk originates). In the past he has commented "third time this week, huh?"

I backed into my stall. No-one waved me in like they do for the women and rookies. By the way, you don't dump your junk into an actual hole in the ground. You dump it into a building, and it gets whisked away. They call it "clearing the decks."

Then taciturn dump employee "L" jumped into the back of the truck and helped me pitch the debris onto the pile. He has helped me several times before and gave me a mask on a particularly dusty day. He showed me how to unload just enough stuff, and then yank the tarp lining the truck to dump the rest. Since then I always put a tarp down. I think he noticed.

Finally, I weighed out and, according the the new rule as of September 1, 2007, presented my i.d. with my credit card. The cashier, "F", said "you don't need to show me your i.d. You are what we call a regular customer." A very proud moment, indeed.

NaBloPoMo Day 12

Dear Internet Friends,
I am enjoying this whole daily posting challenge (National Blog Posting Month). However, today I am at a loss for ideas. Don't want to post another photo, don't have finished knitting items, don't want to complain about my life again.

To stay in the running for prizes and glory I am forced to share a dirty secret. I am a vegetarian. I am a liberal. I like watching the PBR. That's Professional Bull Riding for you city-dwellers. I would probably enjoy watching it while drinking a PBR. That's Pabst Blue Ribbon for you micro-brew drinkers.

I blame Country Music. And Wranglers.

Daughters of Norway

If you are stopping by here because you are interested in Scandinavia, and are a woman of Scandinavian decent or your spouse is, I encourage you to check out the Daughters of Norway.

The goals of the Daughters of Norway are:

• To unite into a sisterhood, women who wish to preserve Norwegian heritage
• To maintain among members a knowledge of the history, culture, and language of Norway
• To build a strong support system and bond of friendship within the sisterhood

We have lodges throughout the West Coast, especially the Northwest; Nevada; Idaho; Montana; and Des Moines.

Our lodge meets monthly, we have a business meeting, a cultural presentation, and refreshments. We learn a lot, and eat a lot of good food. We have an annual Christmas party, and events in the summer. In addition, cultural groups meet to stitch, rosemal, scrapbook, and study genealogy. Sometimes we dress up like Vikings. Sometimes we coerce family members to do so as well.


At our meeting today we were graced with the presence of the Grand Lodge President and Vice-President. The cultural presentation was about Christmas cookies. Three of our members demonstrated Spritz, Rosettes, Krumkake, Sanbakels, and Julekake. Of course there were samples for everyone.


Afterwards we feasted. This is just a third of the table.


The cultural presentations are varied, and entertaining. A few meetings ago Norwegian Folk Dancers preformed. In June the topic was weddings. Our cultural director was able to borrow a brudekrone from Vesterheim. We all got to try it on.


And it truly is a sisterhood. I have made many good friends. They don't mind that I can be silly at times.

iPhoto Library Randomocity

You think this blog is a jumble of random stuff? You should see my iPhoto library.

While scanning through I came across this:

Lovely. Even more lovely? The fact that last Sunday when my husband and I traded jobs, I was there. That was my one option for that type of necessity. Great.


Have I mentioned I’m a vegetarian?


Nanny, phone home.


I don’t know why, but it just tickled me that there was an ad for 50 Cent in Copenhagen. I always thought of Scandinavia as so civilized.


Night-time at Tivoli Gardens in the Spring. Cold and creepy. Actually it was beautiful. None of those photos turned out.


Close-up of the fringe of a scarf I knit out of hand-dyed silk. The poor thing is four years old and has only been worn about five times. It is too long, really. But I finally found a way I like it yesterday, so hopefully it will get more usage now.


Some things I just don’t want to know about.