Inheritance, Part X

Ah, the wonder of budding sarcasm. Now that I know what I was like as a kid, I can see that I was  - and likely still am - a right pain in the ass. This afternoon I offered to show Keira the motif on one of our towels (Misdo boy towel from Japan). 

Her reply? "What is this, show and tell?" It was all I could do to keep a straight face. Fortunately, I thought to reply that no, show and tell was Thursday, and this was only Monday. Then - what's Thursday?

Gotta love it. We're not really sure what the days of the week are (aside from Saturday, which we like) but we have mastered the art of the smart-assed reply. 

Addiction

As if we needed another thing to add to our to-do list, we can now count ploughing through the entire Harry Potter series on audio book as yet another activity to cram into our days. 

Yet, I'm not complaining since there are a couple of clear benefits. First, this just has to be better for you than watching television. Second, by nature, it leaves your hands free, allowing me time to work on other things (which, you of course know would be crafts or re-organizing our desk.) 

For those of you who have never tried sampling any of the Harry Potter books on CD, all I can say is, try it, you'll like it. One of my coworkers has been telling me for years to give them a shot, and this Christmas I got book one on CD from Chad. It's superb - Jim Dale does an unbelievable job of bringing the stories to life without being the least bit campy, and it's a delight to listen to. 

So, if anyone has any Christmas request for next year, get them in now : ) We've just started book four, and if my math skills haven't failed me, I have approximately 90 hours of craft time ahead of me. 

Resolutely Odd

Like everyone else on the planet, I feel the need to, at the least, dwell on the idea of making new year's resolutions.
The cliched resolutions are clearly all applicable: loose weight, save more, use up stashed crafting materials, de-clutter, and pare-down the amount of stuff we own. However, they never really work and really, who remembers new year's resolutions when it comes to say, March. Last year's though, really did work. I did get pretty much all of my Christmas presents done by November and it did enhance the amount I was able to enjoy my holiday. Per the organizational pundits, it worked because it was definable and trackable. There were steps, lists, and projects; all things that I'm very fond of!
So, in an effort to actually learn from history, I've decided to make two new year's resolutions:

1. Get all of my Christmas presents done by Thanksgiving. (a repeat, but well worth the un-originality)
2. Give myself a $5,000 raise by finding 50 ways to save $100. Odd, yes. But, it's easier than just resolving to save more or spend less, and it has the added benefit of being something of a challenge. The rules will be that it has to be money that we are already in the habit of spending (I cannot give myself credit for having the willpower to skip buying cool new boots). I can add amounts of $50 or more together to get to $100, but I cannot count smaller amounts cumulatively. This prevents me from getting hung up on trying to add in the 75 cents I saved by buying generic shampoo (which while a worthy choice, would be a clerical nightmare and clearly lead to failure.)

Hopefully, this time next year, I'll be able to let you know what we did with our spare 10 grand, and a what a great time I had with a stress-free holiday. Wish me luck.

And a Partridge

the blanket - about halfway done

On the final day of Christmas, my tired - yet quite pleased with myself - self had crafted:

• 35 square feet of hand knit blanket
  
• 8 kids' door hangers (no - not knit!)
  
• 2 luxury yarn neck warmers
  
• 2 pair earrings
  
• 2 knit baby doll bibs (which Keira requested after receiving a baby high chair)
  
• 1 hat 
  
• 1 felted clutch
  
• 1 lace oversize shrug (which may not ever see its intended recipient)
  

The irony being that the very first project that I worked on last year, is the one lingering project that I'm still trying to finish up.

hmmm, now, on to next year's offerings (for those who may be keeping score - I have 6 done already!)

What You're Not Told

No one tells you when you're about to do something for the last time. There's no official notice just before the last time you breast feed your baby. They don't let you know that after a certain day, your daughter will be too big to cradle in your arms. The last bottle, the last jar of baby food, crawling, dressing your kid. It's all in your rear view mirror before you realize the last time is already complete. At least with Keira, it's only bittersweet. For each thing she stops doing, it's because she's now doing something new, and you get to celebrate all those new things. 

Yesterday, my Godmother passed away. The last time I saw her, I didn't know it would be the last time I saw her. I feel like I wish I'd known, but I don't know what I would have done, or said, differently. I don't know if that would have tainted the last visit. 

We were up to see my parents this fall and went over for a visit. Several of us went out on a quick boat ride. I remember watching her walking away from the dock as we set off, and thinking that I was glad she was there because she'd had a rough bout with cancer. Before we left, she gave me a quick tour around their house, which I'd not yet seen. I remember seeing a dressing table heavily adorned with wigs and hoping that she was almost ready to give them up. I gave her a big hug before we left. No one lets you know that it's the last one. 

You Know You Work for a Publishing Company...

when instead of this:
"There's a gold car in the back lot with the lights on."

The PA system announces:

"In the South-eastern parking lot, there is a champagne-colored, newer, Nissan Altima with the lights still on."

Email As Therapy

The photo, which is entirely unrelated to the email below, is one that I found months ago and have been looking for an excuse to share. The fact that I named this file hummingbird exam may explain why I felt that it belonged with this email.

It's been one of those days - no, make that weeks - wait, it's really been more like one of those months. You get the picture. Last week (if that tells you how long it's taken me to pull this post together) I got a handful of emails, all on the same day, that I just found therapeutic and I thought I would share the best bits.

From a NY Times book review:

That said, the many semi-clothed pictures of Borat and various friends, relatives and sex workers make this scabrous and occasionally hilarious book challenging to read in public. The captions don’t help. (One for a full-page picture of a shirtless, pantless Borat in a lime green scrotal sling reads, “For protection against sunburning I make rub squirrel cheese on my skins.”)

Any NY Times review that includes the words scrotal sling is inherently grin-inducing.

Next came a signature buried in an email forward I got. I know the person who sent the forward, but don't know the person who used this awful signature line - which greatly reduces the guilt I feel in mocking it senseless. Here's the surely well-meant signature line:

"But Thou, Oh Lord, Art A Shield For Me; My Glory, And The Lifter Of My Head!!"

Now, call me sacrilegious, but I'm not certain that I've ever required divine intervention to lift my own head. Possibly, it's just me.

Next, I was delighted to find that graft was still a publicly-sanctioned road to social change. In my neighborhood newsletter I read that:

This may bring to an end a series of efforts that began nearly six years ago. In 2002, the City of Indianapolis placed Indy East Motel on probation requiring the motel to submit to additional requirements. According to City officials, during the next five years, police had made over 900 runs including arrests for drugs and prostitution.

Your presents in the courtroom Friday would help illustrate that Irvington is serious about closing this business. We hope to see you Friday.