Another One Bites The Dust

Today I mourn the loss of yet another blog.  My buddy Ruby, whose blog “Roo-Bee’s Blog” entertained and enlightened me, has decided she has other fish to fry (don’t we all!).  I’m bummed, yet envious all at the same time.  This blog thing has completely sucked me in and has me by the throat.  I tend to have an addictive personality anyway, (oh come on, don’t act so surprised!)  I couldn’t quit as easily as Ruby, I wish I could.  It’s my new disease: chronic blogoloma.  To give myself a blogectomy would surely cure the condition instantly, but I’d be left with this festering hole I’d have to fill up with something, probably more yarn. 

I’ll miss Ruby’s blog, but she’s stll out there reading all the blogs she did before and commenting away.  She just has a bit more time to spend doing that now.  Maybe someday I’ll decide I have other things that need more attention in life than this, but for now this seems to be scratching an itch I didn’t even know I had.  It’s working for me.  And I couldn’t quit now, I finally have more than ten readers here every day.  Geez, what an accomplishment.

Ruby, you should be a guest blogger here on the Blogorama.  God knows my peeps here have got to be tired of my blather by now and would love a break once in a while.

And speaking of break…. has anyone noticed the desert we’re living in here in Iowa??  What the hell happened to my green grass, my vegetable plants and my enjoyable outside knitting spot?  I can’t even knit outside now, it’s about 102 degrees and the yarn sticks to the needles because of the humidity.  I give up.  I spent nearly all day inside yesterday, that’s so not like me.  This stinks, and I cannot believe I’m saying this because I love summer, but I’M READY FOR AUTUMN.  There, I’ve said it and I’m not the least bit sorry.  Now watch, just like in the Peanuts cartoon, all the leaves on all our enormous trees will fall in our yard all at once.  (Probably from lack of water!)

Mr. Moto’s Boycott Anyone?

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We were having a very enjoyable impromptu knit night last evening when something disturbing happened.  Ruby’s DH brought in their two kidlets (4 and 1 yr old) and they began walking around our small area of the cafe.  There were only six other customers in the place and the kids weren’t being noisy or rowdy, just walking and exploring the place a bit.  They were in eyesight of us and only about ten feet away, and the kids had only been on site less than ten minutes.  Ruby’s DH went after the young-uns and right then the owner of the establishment (only been in business 3 months) came over to inform us, from across a railing ten about twelve feet from us and also within earshot of other customers, that kids weren’t allowed to run around in his place as it wouldn’t be polite to other customers.  He wasn’t the least bit nice, and in fact was a bit rude.  We packed up our knitting and headed for the door.  (What would you do??)

I will never give this creep another dime and if any locals are reading this, I encourage you to do the same.  Another coffee house, Digger’s Rest, is also downtown, is extremely kid-friendly and their coffee is even freshly roasted on site, and in fact the best coffee I’ve ever had.  (We would have gone there but they aren’t open evenings.) Digger’s Rest owner, my friend Philip, has a majacraft wheel and spins wonderful yarn.  Yet another reason to give him my business.

So to the owner of Mr. Moto’s Cafe: if you want to make a go here in our burg you’d better lighten up because our budding knitting group is now looking for a new home.  And by the way, jackass, I’m telling this story to every single person I see for the next 2 weeks and I hope your business drops off the face of the earth, I don’t care how cool you think your freakin’ couch is.  You can just blow back to whatever big city you came from.

I’m considering dropping a line to the owner of Mr. Moto’s Cafe in Burlington and telling him this myself.  If he chooses to have a cafe that also serves beer and food he needs to chill on the kid issue. If he’s a bar he needs to limit his clientele to ‘over 21′ only.  Care to comment, peeps?  I’m seriously fuming over this.  I thought it would be funny to have a ‘kiddie sit- in’.  I’d call all my friends with kids and we’d go there and have a kids lunch date with a zillion toddlers and babies.  I don’t have the nerve, but it would be funny and make our point, but I am never, repeat: NEVER giving that place my money again.

In Other News

Our party went well tonight.  No one stayed late, but it’s hard with young kids.  And honestly, it’s getting harder and harder to stay up as I get older.  Beer just makes me sleepy after the second one.  The kids played and had a wonderful time and the adults chatted and emptied beer bottles.  It was great getting together with friends.

Spinning Wheel News

DH nixed the wheel until fall when our finances are in better shape.  I’m patient, see how patient I can be?  I am irritated because it was on sale, but whatthehellever, I’ve waited this long, what’s a couple of months.  And if DH doesn’t want to save $80 what can I possibly do?  I haven’t worked my businesses much these past months so I have no money stashed for something this big.  I did make a mental note, however, to sock some money in a separate account every payday.  If I’d done that months ago I’d have the money now.  Hindsight ….

Eyes, Yarn, Beer

Well, here’s the ophthalmology update.  I’ve been told I’m normal. For the second time in as many months, I’ve received a clean bill of health on my pulsing eyeball condition.  At my University Eye Clinic appointment yesterday the doc said I’m as normal as they come. He also said that the annoying eyeball could be caused by any of three things: 1)stress  2) caffiene 3) lack of sleep.  I was surprised that the body can react to these things by causing an eyeball to dance the way mine has been, but I was very relieved I don’t need surgery, chemo, or a ‘mad-eye Moody’ eyeball replacement.  I had to chuckle a bit to myself when he mentioned the three offenders.  I have three children, hence stress.   I am a coffee addict, tho only drink about two large cups per day, sometimes four.  And my prime knitting time is after everyone is asleep and the house is quiet, and sometimes I’m up till one or two am with a huge smile on my face.  Peaceful knitting rocks.  That smile is gone at about 7am when I cannot haul my ass from my bed as the children squeal, “Mom! What’s for breakfast? Are you ever getting up?”  I long for my single, childless days of sleeping in.

The best part of the trip yesterday was that we went to my favorite yarn shop on the way home. (Which wasn’t really on the way at all.  Have I mentioned how sweet my DH is?) I got some lovely Opal sock yarn for some upcoming gift socks, and some moss roving for my hand spindle, I really hate hand spinning but it’s keeping my spin itch scratched until I get a wheel, which will be soon, I’m so, so excited!!  I also picked up some wooden sock needles which seem incredibly long now that I have them home.  The other option was incredibly short and I knew the stitches would fall off the ends.   That knitting shop stop almost made it worth having to have my eyes dilated and being half blind for the afternoon. 

The other wonderful perk of the trip was stopping at a great restaurant for lunch. It’s old button factory converted to nice, sit-down, Guiness-on-tap, woodfired grill restaurant.  The place smelled so great when we walked in. I could intstantly smell the woodfire.  We had Harp and Guiness with our lunch.  And I had the best pulled pork sandwich of my life, it had a layer of homemade coleslaw on it.  Wow.  We also had to endure Ragbrai traffic.  Ever see what 30,000 extra people rolling into a town can do?  Geez, what a mess.  But overall it was a swell trip.  Utterly best point: my spinning wheel is on sale for 20% off today only and I wouldn’t have known had I not stopped int he store yesterday.  Yipee!!!

Photos coming tomorrow.  Gotta go attack some dust bunnies. Little gathering at our place today with some friends. Been meaning to do a little summer party for awhile and today’s the day.  Grilling out and hanging with friends with beer while kiddies run and play, it just doesn’t get any better.

I am a flower

I ran across this today.  It confirms what I’ve known for a long time.  I joke with DH that “I’m a delicate flower” whenever he teases me about doing some cruddy boy thing I don’t want to do, like camp for an entire week without showering, dispose of stinky dead mice who were foolish to fall for the ‘yummy cheese in the trap’ trick, or cleaning out the sink trap after I’ve clogged our temperamental garbage disposer.

‘Miss Moonbeam’ Hosta.  Aren’t I lovely?

 Yo peeps, today’s my eye appt. at the University so I’m outta here and I’ll give you the update on the flip side.  And yes, yes, yes, I am taking my knitting.  I have a feeling I’ll have time to finish a project and a half.

July 27th

July 27th is a date I will never forget.  One year ago today my family and I were traveling near St. Paul, Minnesota on day one of our summer vacation when we witnessed a fatal car accident.  It was about 7am and we had just stopped at a Starbucks and hopped back on the road headed for Duluth.  The kids were happily chatting in the back and I had my nose in a Sting biography; I was tired of knitting on the yellow hoodie that was at my feet.  DH had coffee in his hand and was finally awake.  All was well. 

The first sign of trouble was DH’s alarming tone of voice, “Oh no, oh no, oh no!”  he was saying.  I looked up and couldn’t figure out what he was getting upset about.  We just passed an off-ramp and assumed he missed his turnoff because he was pulling off the side of the road.  Then he starts pointing and getting panickey.  He yelled, “That van!  I just watched it veer off the road and hit that concrete support.”  At this point we were rolling up to a stop and we are sitting there staring across the four lanes to the concrete support.  There was a red van smashed into oblivion against it.  Cars and trucks, unaware that anything had happened, whizzed by on both sides of the interstate.  Three or four vehicles were stopped on our side of the road and people inside were sitting staring helplessly at the van.  An SUV was stopped ahead of us and four trim college-age guys jumped out and ran over to the smashed van.  To do what?  My husband and I just looked at each other.  ”Shouldn’t we do something?” I asked.  DH said, “Look at that van. I can’t do anything with that.  Even if someone is alive in there, there’s no way to get them out.”  It was true, but what a horrible helpless feeling. 

The van was smashed to about half the original size and the front seats were completely compacted against the front of the vehicle.  There was no blood, no bodies thrown from the vehicle, no smoke, fire, steam, or tires spinning.  There was nothing moving whatsoever.  By just the sight of the wreckage you couldn’t tell if it happened 5 minutes ago or 5 weeks ago.  I found that so disturbing.  Cars were zipping by in every lane on their way to somewhere important.  Didn’t they know people were inside that vehicle and trapped RIGHT THERE?  Whoever was alive in that vehicle isn’t anymore, was my thought as we sat there.  I remember saying, “No one could have possibly survived that.”  My heart was beating in a bizarre rhythm and I felt totally sick, a combination of needing to throw up, cry and pray all at the same time.  I worried there were children in the van, small children who may be scared and trapped, or maybe a pregnant woman.   We called 911, mostly for our own peace of mind, as there were other cars near ours that had probably already called in.  We told the kids there wasn’t anything we could do and that help was coming for that vehicle and we drove away and continued on with our vacation.  We didn’t know what else to do.  We had our own children to think about.  In hindsight it was the right thing to do.  Later we heard the trafic was backed up for a zillion miles and it was a huge mess.  We would have been there for hours had we not gone on.  And there truly was nothing more we could have done.

There were five people in the van that morning and four died.  Four college kids, two male and two female had planned a day trip to an amusement park south of Minneapolis.  The mother of one of the girls was driving.  The kids were going to drop the mom off at the airport where she was boarding a plane for South America for a church mission trip.  They had started out at around 4am and had been on the road several hours.  I never heard for sure, but I assume she fell asleep at the wheel. 

The crash haunted me for the rest of our vacation and continued to creep into my thoughts over the never few months.  The days following the accident the story was all over the local TV news and newspapers in Minnesota.  It was a front page story.  The victims were from a small community a couple hundred miles from the crash. One of the slants of the stories was how although they were completely shaken, the community came together and supported one another.  It was heartbreaking to see their friends and families hurting and it felt wrong to me that we, strangers to them, witnessed the crash that took their loved ones from this world.  

After we returned home I followed the story and tried to find information online about the survivor, Lucas.  I found out the name of the hospital where he was being treated and I sent him a card.  I felt better having done that, but I still worried about him, probably because I’m a mother.  At that point I didn’t know how severe his injuries were. 

A week later there was a message from Lucas on our answering machine.  It was music to my ears.  We returned his call and my husband and I both chatted with him.  He said he was sleeping in the backseat when the accident happened.  He was knocked unconscious and came to as the rescue workers were using the jaws of life to cut apart the back of the van to get him out.  It had taken two hours to get him out.  He said he wasn’t scared, the workers were great and kept talking to him during the process.  He had a broken knee and had banged his head pretty badly.  During that call I recall thinking that his physical injuries were nothing compared to his emotional ones.  He lost three friends that day, one of them was his girlfriend.    He sounded great on the phone considering all he’d been dealing with, but I was worried about him.  He said he planned to keep in touch and that was reassuring.

I’ve gotten a few email updates from Lucas this past year.  His messages are always upbeat and he focuses on the positives in his life.  Throughout this ordeal he has had a strong Christian faith and the support of his family.   In the most recent update he had just finished spring semester of college and was gearing up for a summer job in Duluth on a tour boat.  He was looking forward to it.

I don’t really believe in coincidences.  I think we were there on that road at that moment for a reason.  I think I was so affected by the accident because I desperately wanted to know why we were supposed to be there.  I now think it was because of Lucas.  We were supposed to know Lucas.  Who knows why.  Maybe it’s a bunch of hooey I tell myself to make me feel okay with it all, but it works for me.

I hope Lucas continues to keep in touch, but if not it’s okay (when we lose touch it’s probably a sign that he’s truly okay).  It’s enough to know he’s recovered and that he’s looking ahead to his future.   Actually, just the sound of his healthy voice on that first phone call was all I ever needed.  He is a survivor in so many ways.  I am proud of him and inspired by him.  July 27th will always have special meaning for me; I will always remember the accident, but mostly I will be thinking of Lucas. 

I have seen the light

Okay, I had no clue I was a thief.  I figured any image I found on any site I could copy.  I had no idea I was doing something I wasn’t supposed to.  Sheesh, there is more to this blogging thing than just posting away.  Why didn’t anyone tell me? 

For those of you who don’t know, you’re supposed to save images to yer ‘puter then put it on yer blog.  Do not ‘copy’ and ‘paste’ directly from their site to yours.  It all seems rather silly in a sense and it takes more time to do it the right way (doesn’t it always?).  There’s good reason to do it right, seems there’s fees people pay and if you’re stealing images then they’re paying for you to put their images on your blog.  Seems a lot of fuss and bother.  But I’m here to tell you, I will do it right from now on.  Sheesh, I’m such a newbie at this. 

Yee Haw!! A FO!

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The blessed brother socks are out of my hands.  They are in transit as I type this.  Hopefully they won’t end up shredded in a sorting machine.  But just in case I insured them for $100.  Later I wished I’d done it for $200.  I’m a bit paranoid.  I spent a month of my life on those socks.  If something happens I’ll at least be able to buy some awesome yarn or pay for most of a spinning wheel.  I seriously would cry if they got lost or damaged.  As I left the post office I felt as if I’d shipped a child.  Will they get there alright?  Should I have ziplocked them first?  I hope no one spills something on the package.  What if it gets ripped open and one sock gets lost?  What if the whole package gets stuck and shredded in a sorter?  What if it just never arrives?  Socks, what socks?  It’d be like the whole thing never happened.   Okay, enough freaking out.  They’ll get there fine.

On to other projects.  I’m considering making a baby kimono from Mason Dixon Knitting.  I do love that book.  My stupid library won’t order it.  They have a zillion fun fur books but interlibrary borrowed it for me instead of ordering it.  Shitheads.  They also won’t order a subscription to Interweave Knits.  They have some pretty horrid knit and crochet subscriptions, but won’t order that one.  I know I could order it myself, but I have space issues with my knitting stuff.  I’m trying not to buy every single book I like.  I already have too much.  Yes, Virginia, you CAN have too much.

Okay, I gotta get on with the day.  I had a rockin’ post all ready to go last night and swear I saved it, but when I pulled it up all I had was the photos.  ‘Puters suck donkey cheese.   (OMG, has anyone seen the new great soap for soft skin?  I saw it on a soap site the other day: Donkey milk soap.  Can you picture milking a donkey???  I’ll stick to goatsmilk thankyou.) 

I’ll go live a bit so I have something to post tomorrow.  Tell me to go cast something on, I’m having new project avoidance issues.

Soapmaking 101

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I made a batch of Vanilla soap today.  It’s been a couple months since I’ve made any soap at all.  Sometimes I feel like I’m not really in business.  Summer is pretty nuts with the kids home on summer break.  I’m anxiously awaiting getting the business going again in Sept.

I thought it might be interesting for you all to see how soap is made.  Yes, I make it my kitchen.  No, it’s not ideal.  Hopefully someday in the near future my workshop will be in the basement, complete with a kitchen-ish area.  God forbid I splash lye in my eye and have have no water handy to flush it with.  Folks, if I splash lye in my eye I don’t think water will save me. It’s dangerous stuff.  Which leads me to my next point.  Just because I’m explaining it here, please don’t attempt it unless you do your homework.  There’s lots of good info out there in books and websites on making soap if you’re that interested.  

When I first found out about handcrafted (cold-processed) soap I thought, “Huh? You can actually make soap, what, like making brownies?” I was amazed that it could be done in a home setting.  It’s basic chemistry, really.  But like in any chemistry, you need to wear your protective gloves and goggles and keep kids, pets and nosy spouses out of the way. 

Lye (sodium hydroxide) is what makes the magic happen.  There’s no soap happening without it.  The lye looks like salt.  It has to be added to water to be useful for soapmaking.  The water and lye get weighed and the lye is carefully added. The fumes are very toxic so I usually take a break at this point and get other materials ready, far from the lye pot, which is looking like a fuming witch’s brew.  (I use the down-draft vent on my Jenn-Air, it helps suck out the fumes.) There is a chemical reaction when lye and water mix.  It creates heat (this pot never receives any heat from the stove) and the pot becomes hot, probably about 150 degrees. 

The oils are weighed and put in a separate large pot and melted until combined and quite hot, then heat is turned off (hence, the name ‘cold-processed’).  Both pots have to cool to luke-warm, then lye/water mix goes into oils pot and is mixed until looks like pudding.  Other goodies are added here like fragrance and poppyseeds, or wheat germ, etc. and the mix is poured into the molds.  I put it in my oven (no heat, only the light on, as if rising bread) and it rests there for about 18-24 hours. Then, like magic, it’s no longer pudding consistancy, it’s semi-hard soap.  Then it gets cut and it sits to cure (harden more) for about 4-6 weeks.

It’s a messy process and a time consuming one.  I neglected my entire family this afternoon, except for yelling for them to get out of the kitchen.  I really have to for safety, the lye will burn skin, blind, and can burn your lungs if inhaled.  I yell because I love them. 

More chemistry:  Lye, water, and oil combined produce soap molecules and glycerin molecules.  The soap cleanses your skin while the glycerin moisturizes your skin.  Also there are other moisturizing oils added like aloe vera oil, shea, and avocado (my favorite).  Handcrafted soap is like no soap you’ve ever used.  Your skin will love you for it.  And don’t tell me how much you love your Dove, it can’t touch this.

A funny story: a woman came up to me at a farmer’s market last season.  She said, “Is this lye soap?” I said yes.  She said, “I heard lye soap is harsh, do you you make any soaps without lye in them?”  Silly woman.  She didn’t have a clue what she wanted.  Not all HC soaps are created equal.  If not made correctly a soap could end up with active lye in it and could harm someone.  Hence, harsh soap.  Our grandmothers probably endured a lot of this type of soap, fine for laundry, not for skin.  In properly made soap, the lye molecules are totally ’used up’ by the oil and water and only leaves soap and glycerin behind. A good scale is very important.  And even a good soapmaker can have a bad batch, but hopefully it will never be sold and used.  Always test a new skin product on the inside of your arm before using on your face or body (this is always good advice, especially if you have skin issues or allergies). 

So there you have it, more than you probably ever really wanted to know about HC soap and how to make it.  There will be a quiz.

my obit?

 Okay, I had to try it.  It’s ridiculous, but funny. Go on, you know you’re tempted.  Go here to do your own.  AmpuTeehee made me do it.

 My own obit will probably read:

Mrs. whatshername was a homemaker.  She is survived by three usually ungrateful children.  She enjoyed knitting and screaming at her offspring when she wasn’t naggging at mr. whatshisname to finish the zillions of inprogress projects he started all over the house.  A memorial has been established for a Nannies Are Us fund in hopes that someone will help poor DH raise the children  and match their outfits while he’s napping on the couch.  She will be greatly missed by the yarn industry and Bruno the dog, who will probably never be bathed or brushed ever again.  The visitation will be during happy hour from 5-7pm at the Paddlewheel Bar and Grill. 

Hell On Wheels

 

My post today is in honor of the thousands of sore butts that will result from this bike ride that is beginning in my state this weekend.  I know from personal experience that this ride is not for the casual-weekend-five-mile-rider.  My parent drug me on this ride when I was nine or ten.  It was fun for about five minutes.  It was constant waiting in line for everything: food, showers (cold, and sometimes from a garden hose!), and to get your gear from the U haul truck each day.  If on the road biking and a restroom was needed and none around, there was usually a farmer’s field close by.  I still have cornfield eebie-jeebies to this day.  I decided after three days and about a hundred and fifty miles of Ragbrai it would be more fun to ride the sag wagon (support vehicle for riders).  I hear if you’re in shape and over 10 years old this ride is lots of fun.  This year Lance Armstrong is scheduled to ride for three days.  My thought about Ragrai is this: Who the hell would choose to spend their vacation this way?