Knitting Class Reunion Day

Today, I get to return to knitting class/group, in its new venue, the Rogersville Library. I have missed my yarn-buddies, and can't wait to catch up on everyone's doings while I was away. I feel a little under-prepared though, as I only have a half-finished baby blanket that I started for the express purpose of keeping my nerves at bay, while Bill took the wheel on our trip home.

It seems that all of a sudden, my friends from New York are expecting grand-babies this spring. Anita's daughter Amy is due next month, while Linda's daughter Amy, and daughter-in-law, also named Amy, are both expecting within days of each other in May. If your name is Amy, I suggest you do a pregnancy test immediately!

Here in Tennessee, MaryAnn is also an expectant grandmother. Her daughter Ashley, who lives in Virginia, is also having a baby girl soon, but I'm having a brain-freeze as to exactly when. I'll hopefully find out today when that knitting project is due, even if it means subjecting myself to mild derision for having a middle-aged, forgetful brain.

When I'm in doubt as to what kind of project to start, I'll knit a baby blanket--it's sure to find a home quickly. And I love making the matching tiny hats, as I did for my doctor. They are fast, and incredibly cute.

Am I ready to be a granny? Not quite. I'm still recovering from just being mother-of-the-bride, thank you so very much. I do have that "Awwww!" visceral response when I see a new baby or an especially cute toddler, but then I mentally slap myself and get a grip. I can wait patiently for those future blessings. Really.

*****

Thanks to all readers who provided Tire Counseling yesterday. I'm all set. One of mine was deemed to be a "Manufacturer's Defect," so I got a full refund on that one, plus $43 and change back on each of the other 3. Bill is very impressed, never having had any luck getting anything back on a tire warranty. I have four new tires, rated at 80,000 miles. I'm hoping to get 40K out of them, and then it'll be time to buy new tires again. Oh, joy.

Home At Last

It sure was good to get back to the ol' homestead yesterday afternoon! We managed to pick up some milk and get the mail from the post office before they closed. Of course, there was no room in the car for the mail bucket or the milk, so it rode on my lap for the last part of the trip.

What rain they must have had in the last two months! The pond is FULL of water, up to the top of the overflow drain. When I left in November, I could see the bottom of the drain, at least 5 feet tall, with no water near it. And the floating dock is now actually floating again!

We couldn't get the car up the driveway because it was covered in wet leaves, surely the slipperiest substance known to man. After extricating myself from under the gargantuan mail bucket, Echo and I walked up to open up the house, and Bill stayed behind to remove the leaves. While he did that, I turned on all the water systems (tanks, UV and softener) and pumps, opened the valve on the propane tank, fired up the gas water heater, and turned on the furnace to heat up the house. I then bled all the faucets (spurt, sputter, splash), and started to get to know my house again. Bill heroically emptied the car of its over-stuffed burdens. Our life in the car is now all over my living room floor.

Echo found her way immediately to the futon and has been there ever since. That is one tired traveling dog.

I cooked a quick dinner and then we collapsed on the couch to sort two months worth of mail. A belated thanks for all the Christmas cards and letters. It sure is nice to hear from friends and family!

I got a letter from a friend, thanking me for the hat and blanket I sent [see here] for her upcoming baby. Surprise! The little girl arrived a month early, on December 22! As I was reading the note out loud to Bill, I suddenly had a catch in my throat, and started to cry when I read this: "She's beautiful, and you were right! Something happened when I met her. Suddenly everything else doesn't matter; it's like she came out with "The Meaning of Life" stamped on her cute little hind end."

After having spent the last two months in full press mode getting my own "Meaning of Life" married off, I know exactly what she means. Plus, I love being told I'm right about anything.

It's good to be home.

*******
I have put up new pix under the appropriate posts of the past, to "catch up" from the last few weeks when I couldn't upload photos.

Projects: those completed & those as yet unfinished...

I took stock this morning on projects done, and those still pending. First, I have this delightful, misshapen little dishcloth for Kellie's Mom (I'm sticking to my story, that I meant for it to be kite-like):

Next is the scarf I am knitting for Bonnie, to go with her royal blue bridesmaid's dress--The sparkly blue fringey yarn will be woven into the outside edge, if this difficult-to-work-with-ribbon-yarn madness ever ends:

Here is the stole I finished for Angela to go with her bright blue (strapless) bridesmaid's dress:

And then there's the (deleted expletive) tutu--finished at last, and what a piece of work it is...

Then there's Tyra's scarf (also in blue tones, for her bridesmaid's dress) which is taking shape in my mind, but has yet to make it onto the needles. I'm thinking big needles, drop stitch, with loopy trim on the ends--in other words, a very fast knit.

Yesterday, we did another commissary run at Ft. Lewis. The checkout of 3 carts led to a breathtaking $700 food bill. I had forgotten just how much teenagers can eat! (My portion for the wedding was under $200). I still have produce to buy, but that will happen next Friday, so everything will still be fresh.

I can't believe we are just a little over a week away. Bill sounded a little more optimistic this morning. We're beseeching the heavens for his speedy return, and invite everyone to join in that project!

Beauty--it's a full-time job!

Kellie and I had a good time doing the "Pam makeover" on Saturday. My hair ended up being shorter than anticipated, but the cut and color are amazing and it will grow. I don't know why hairdressers insist on blow-drying and "styling" me, when I tell them I am a total wash-and-wear type. I don't own a blow-dryer, I'm more of the shake-like-a-wet-dog kind of gal.



I also never know what to say when they ask me "Did you cut your own bangs?" I suspect that this is a rhetorical question--of course they already know the answer is YES, AND WHAT OF IT? Perhaps it is a question designed to attempt to shame me out of my evil self-trimming ways. Fat chance.


Here is a picture of Kellie and me, in the immediate post-game wrap-up at the hairdresser's house:




I had niece Bonnie take a few pictures the next day, after I had done my wash-and-fluff normal thing, a little more of a natural look. Unfortunately, they were so up close, it was like looking up my nose. My pores were the size of potholes, and the whole effect was just plain frightening. You'll have to wait for the wedding pictures to see the improved, but real me.

After we did the hair thing, we had Mexican lunch and margaritas, all the better to face the next stop on our "Total Day of Beauty," the defoliation of my impressive eyebrow forest. We went to the Tuscan Spa, where we were given fragrant tea to sip while gazing at Italian landscapes and racks full of strange (to me) exotic products like "lifter," "face foam," and "lip plumper." How could I have made it through life thus far without such products? It was like being plopped on an alien planet.

The tech was very nice and set about her chore with determination and no explanations, (and thankfully, no rhetorical questions about "Did you just let these grow any which way they wanted to?)" At a couple of points, I may have squeaked "Ow!" I'm not sure, I was in a zone of meditation on the sensations of warm wax and ripping linen. Ow, indeed. The final effect was still me, just more refined. It was a unique experience, but one that I may not necessarily repeat anytime soon.

Yesterday, we went wedding-clothes shopping. The dresses I brought from TN were, on re-examination, too somber for the purpose, not to mention velvet and hotter than hell itself. I began to fear that I would self-immolate during the ceremony and subsequent cooking for the reception. Bonnie also needed a dress, so we braved the mall. A mere 45 minutes later, we had two acceptable dresses, a burgundy shirt for Bill, and all at 20% the already marked-down clearance prices. Awesome.

So that's done, thank heavens. In the downtimes this week, I've been knitting. I finished a baby blanket and baby hat for my latest favorite doctor, Dr. Anderson. She's having a baby in January, and is totally freaked out about it, knowing "too much" as an OB/Gyn, she says. Maybe owning a tiny hat will make her coo a little, and make it a little more fun to anticipate.

Today is Monday busy-ness, the usual--chiropractor, auction-packing and post office. Three weeks to go until the wedding, and I think we're on top of things at the moment. Now, we just have to get Bill off the ship, and it should all work out as planned.

Not so much ranting today

My, I do go off in tangents at times. I'm feeling better today, a little more optimistic about life in general, very happy that the world is turning towards cooler days, cooler nights, colorful trees and the crispy sounds of dried leaves scuttling across the driveway in the wind.

I love autumn here in TN. Whereas fall was a time for sadness in NY (kids going back to school, winter looming), here it is a joyful relief from the heat and bugs of summer. And it lasts and lasts! Not a quick, 6-week burst of a season, but a full three months of glorious and comfortable walking in the woods, enjoying the sights, sounds and smells of the forest.

Echo is back to being her complete, normal dog-self. Whatever precipitated her terrible illness (Bill suspects snakebite), she is over it now, as if it never happened. Cesar Millan says, "Dogs live in the 'now,' never in the past like humans." Ain't it the truth.

I need more of that "living in the now" myself. It's easy to dwell on the frustrations and losses of the past year, but it's not very productive. The one thing this illness did give me is an appreciation for every little pleasure in each day. A mental note to stop and experience the small moments of joy and contentment as they occur, and to pay attention, before moving on to the next mundane thing.

Speaking of which, I finished Alex's hat!

I am SO tickled by how this turned out! The lining is super-soft and fuzzy (my fingers are sore from dealing with the slipperiness of the fine, soft yarn on the bamboo needles), it's warm and it's drop-dead cute. I'm so enchanted with this pattern, I immediately started another two, one for each of the bald-headed men in my life, husband and brother. That should keep me busy and happy for a few weeks!

Jam! New Knitting Projects!

I tackled the bags of blackberries yesterday afternoon, turning 10 quarts of berries into 1 pint and 6 half-pints of jam. I've never done this before, so it was an experiment:




All I have to say is WOW, there sure are a lot of seeds in those little suckers. I cooked them down and put them through a food mill with a fine screen. Then I poured that puree through a finer sieve. I ended up with 9 cups of somewhat-less seedy pulp and about 70 pounds of discarded seedy-pyuck. I wouldn't call it Seedless Blackberry Jam, but it's the best I could do. Think of it as added fiber in your diet.


So here's how you do it: 9 cups of blackberry puree + 6 cups sugar. Boil forever. Boil some more. Keep stirring. Wait until it reduces by about a third and starts to jell. Ladle into jars and process 15 minutes in a water bath. Clean purple juice off every surface in the kitchen. Put 70 pounds of seeds and pulp in the composter. Clean more purple juice off the stove. Put paper towels on shopping list, as you just used every last one in the house.

Last night, with purple-stained fingers, I started playing with some of the exotic yarns I bought last week:

This is to be a fancy shawl/wrap for daughter Juli. Her wedding dress is red and sleeveless and fabulous, but as a mother, I look at the picture, think about how cold and rainy it's going to be in Seattle on December 21, and think "That girl needs a sweater!" Since I do not yet have the requisite knitting skills to knit said sweater, a shawl is what she will get.

Last week at knitting, Andrea loaned me one of her knitting books and last night I saw this:

I simply MUST knit this aviator cap for son Alex! This is classed as "Intermediate," of which I am nowhere near being, but I must try. I have the perfect yarns and the perfect recipient. And he too lives in cold, rainy Seattle. Brilliant!

Just what I need right now, more projects!

Knitting Day!

I do so look forward to Friday mornings, when I can gather up the week's yarn projects, throw them in a bag and go share a few hours with my knitting buddies!

Someone always has something interesting to show, and I always learn a new trick or two. Last week, Dot was doing seed stitch, something I don't particularly like because it requires you to be constantly throwing the yarn strand back and forth. That's when we noticed for the first time that Dot doesn't knit like us! She knits in "Continental Style," holding the yarn in her left hand, rather than the right, and knits in a very fast, smooth way without all the motion in the right hand that the rest of us do.

She explained that when she first came to class and learned to knit again after a 30-year vacation, it all seemed so awkward to her. After struggling for a few hours, her hands suddenly "remembered" the way her grandmother had taught her those many years before, and it all came back. She tried mightily to teach us her automatic muscle-memory style, and we tried mightily to imitate her. But it's going to take a lot of practice to learn this new way until it clicks for me. If it ever does. Trying to re-train the brain to do a muscle skill in a different way is a major challenge.

I liken it to playing the piano--if I flub a section and stop, most times I can't pick up right where I left off; I have to go back to the beginning. It's as if my fingers know it unconsciously, while my brain is coasting along in neutral.

We do so many tasks automatically--brushing our teeth, tying our shoes. We forget that these skills had to be learned with painstaking effort. One mental-exercise book I read actually suggested that we take these automatic tasks and consciously try to do them differently. The first time I tried to brush my teeth with my left hand, I ended up with toothpaste all over my chin!

So today, I will start a knit-stitch only project (with my new yarn!) and attempt to practice Dot's new technique. In the long run, it will be easier and save hand motions. In the short term, I know it's going to frustrate me to the point of exasperation. But it's good to have a challenge, and it's good to have friends to share it with.

Knitting Stories

I really enjoy the easy comraderie of sitting around the tables and knitting together in a group. Everyone shares their joys and frustrations with THE YARN, of course. But also, I gather information about the town I now live in by listening to the waves of conversation about people I don't know, picking up bits and pieces of family history, who lives or lived in what house (and who they are related to), and letting it all wash over me without consciously trying to remember it. Everyone is connected here, by blood, by marriage, by church. I am the orphan-outsider, but strangely, it does not bother me like it did in New York. I belong only by virtue of the people I choose to associate with, and the ins and outs, the feuds and family do not touch me personally. I guess I've gotten to the point where I "belong" just enough to keep from turning into a total mountain-dwelling hermit. I am so happy to have found such a diverse and congenial group that puts up with me and my drive-by knitting, odd sense of humor and outlander accent. And they are all such interesting women, so it keeps me listening instead of just running my mouth, as I tend to do in group situations, (usually without my brain engaged).

I made my Summer Fruit Claffouti last night, [recipe here] and took it to knitting to share. Andrea called while I was wrestling the cake out of the oven with the news that her scanner said there was a fire on Devil's Nose Road, was I all right? "How did you know I was baking?" I asked her. She laughed, but I never did smell any smoke from the reported fire, so it must have been small or the wind was blowing the other way.

There was also good news at group today: We have been given permission to meet at the church on Monday nights as well as Friday mornings, so our members who have to work during the day can also join in the fun! While husbands are glued to Monday Night Football, we will be doing group therapy in the form of knitting. The rumor is that it is to be a sock-knitting class. This frightens me, but then everything in this class has been a real intellectual and physical coordination challenge, so what else is new? Socks? Sure, I can learn how to do socks. I may swear through the whole class (silently, because we are, after all, venued in a church), but sign me up for that kind of fun.

After class, I ventured over to the Farmer's Market and bought a canteloupe, a handful of okra, and every cucumber they had. These cukes will augment my garden stash, and tonight, let the pickling begin!

I lead such an exciting life.

I can cable!

When MaryAnn told me "you can do this!" I was skeptical. But I took a moment yesterday afternoon to rip out the boring stockinette scarf I was working on, got out the instructions for cabling and buckled down to learn it.

Hooray! She was right! I can cable!

It's like a whole new world in knitting. A pattern that is easy enough to do in the car, but interesting enough to keep me going. Yes, I have to drag around 3 needles instead of just two, but it's a small inconvenience compared to the results. This is so cool! (And you were right, MaryAnn, thank you!)

Today is a busy Monday. I need to give Bill his back-to-work haircut. Then we are off to Johnson City to get his TB test read. Then a lunch date at Carraba's (I have one of their cookbooks, entitled Ciao, Y'all, so I assume it's Italian cuisine, Southern-style). Then an eye appointment for Bill, and picking out new glasses. We need to find some mosquito netting for the rain barrels. Then home to do the final walk-through with Ray's tenants.

It's going to be another one of those days. But since Bill will be driving and I have a new project, I will be happily cabling without complaint. Bring it on, busy Monday.

Houston, we have a ... BERET!

Knitting class follies continue, and I'm pleased to report that I have an almost-finished first beret. It actually bears some relation to my head circumference, and while I'm a little taken aback at it's voluminous poofiness, I think this is a good first effort:



Alert readers have asked, "what are those dorky-looking rings doing in your hat? Are you attempting to receive signals from outer space?"


I'm so glad you asked (we hobbyists just LOVE answering questions that we ourselves had two weeks ago). They are "markers," little plastic signals to tell me exactly which stitches to decrease to make the top of the hat narrow down and eventually close up. And, we close it so the rain does not fall on my head through the center of the beret, and my head doesn't poke through, making me look like a total idiot.


Oh. You already knew that part. Never mind.


Soon, very soon, I will switch the whole project off the circular needles and over to the Dreaded Double-Pointed Needles, and the markers will go back in my bag, to roll around on the bottom, getting lost (I had to unpack my entire bag last night looking for the darned things--that's where they were, on the bottom and hiding in the corners). I need a better storage system, that's clear.

But today I must pack for our trip and clean the house and remember to empty the garbage and cull out the refrigerator so we don't come home to the smell of something that died while we were away. (When I left last summer for two months on the West Coast, I forgot the coffee sitting in the pot on the countertop. I came home in September to a fascinating science project perking away in the carafe, something I would like to avoid this time).


So, the beret may have to wait until my house-wifely chores are done today. With 16+ hours of driving ahead of us, I expect I will have plenty of time to knit on the road.


Major confession time: I am a terrible automobile passenger. I suspect it has something to do with control issues (Ya think)? Without something to occupy my attention, I sit in the right-hand seat, gasping at brake lights, bracing myself for imminent imagined collisions, throwing my arms over my head and cringing into a fetal position with my feet up on the dashboard. Sometimes I actually whimper and keen. It drives Bill absolutely nuts to have Panic-Pam paying minute attention to his driving--my normally calm husband usually ends up yelling at me, "I SEE IT, [insert expletive here], I SEE IT!" Since I have taken up knitting (and since I'm still so very bad at it, requiring ALL of my visual and mental focus), our car trips have been mercifully peaceful. I drive, he sleeps. He drives, I knit. See, even old married people can learn new tricks! Thank you knitting--another added benefit!

More Hat Follies! Green Beans!

After about two days on a new hat project (the coveted beret), I had to face the fact that this hat was too large for polite company. I followed the directions (cast on 52, k1, p1 for 1 inch, then increase to 78 stitches and knit, knit, knit), but ended up with half a hat, fit only for a head the size of Andre the Giant's. And he's dead. So that's not going to work.

It may have something to do with the super-bulky chenille yarn I'm using, or I might have mistakenly been following the directions for Queen Latifah's Tube Top, instead of Aunt Purl's Beret? Time to rip it out and start over, chastened but not defeated. Yet. Next time, I'm thinking of starting with 36 stitches--something that will actually have some relationship to my head circumference. For awhile there, I thought I was knitting a neck-warmer for an elephant.

In a more successful hobby, I harvested our first beans yesterday!

For just four 8-foot rows of beans tucked into a corner of the front yard, I sure do have a lot of beans. They hide. I have to sit in the straw and look carefully underneath each plant. And still, I miss some of them and have to go back and do it again. But to get about a pound of beans on the first pick is a treasure!

Hat! Cherries! Rain!

Never a dull moment around here. I spent the morning in knitting class learning what to do with the beginnings of my first hat:

And I spent the afternoon dealing with 6 quarts of cherries picked yesterday from Ray's tree:

I made Billy Boy his obligatory Cherry Pie ("Watch out for the pits I missed!"), and fussed after supper with the scary and dreaded "Double-Pointed Knitting Needles" for narrowing and finishing the hat. With eleventy-billion stitches to go, I finally gave up and went to bed, thoroughly exhausted from the day's excitement. What a wimp.

MaryAnn has graciously started a blog, with live-action photos, for our knitting group at http://www.knittingsoulstogether.blogspot.com/ . See the Amazing Casting On! See the Incredible Dropped Stitch! Don't miss the Fantastic Dishcloth Marathon! I know. We are just too much.

And blessings from above: it just started to rain as I typed this! Yeah! Come on rain!

Well, that was interesting!

I had my quarterly oncology check-up with Dr. DaSilva yesterday. I am still "clean." I finally said "enough!" with the wacko blood pressure readings I've been getting on my legs since the surgeries, and braved having it taken on my arm. Voila! It's normal! Hooray! No more speculation about whether I have coincidentally developed high blood pressure along with breast cancer, it's been human or machine error all along. I don't think I'll make it a habit (I am still inordinately terrified of lymphedema in the arms as a result of the harvesting of axillary lymph nodes), but it was nice to know that I am indeed not crazy, at least in the matter of blood pressure readings.

I then spent two hours with the genetics counselor, Debbie, who painstakingly walked me through the minefield of BRCA 1 & 2 testing implications. Everyone in the medical community is so darned pussy-footy about this subject, and I lose patience. I either have the mutation or I don't, and it seems to me that knowing which, is critical to my own peace of mind--not to mention protecting my children and nieces with that foreknowledge. But apparently, some people really don't want to know. Or, feel guilty if they have the gene mutation (what is the point of that)? And there are many legal implications, and papers to be signed, and butts to be covered. Sigh. Take the blood already. Send it off. Let's get this show on the road.

In more important news, I started knitting my first hat! Working on circular needles was scary at first, but it is starting to look like a real piece of headgear! Today at class, I will find out how to end it (it has to narrow down at the top so it doesn't look like total dork-wear), and I want to make sure I'm doing that right, but I am thrilled to break out of my rectangular knitting habit and tackle a new challenge. I will post pix later.

And, our friend Ray arrived late last night on his cross-country drive from Northern California. I was deep in the arms of Morpheus, so I didn't hear him come in...he made the drive in a record 3 days. He and I will be painting his newly acquired rental house this week and next.

It's all good.

Knit, Knit, Knit

Well, that was some fun at knitting class yesterday. I learned some new tricks, got cured of some bad, self-taught habits and met some nice people as well. This will give my week a bit of structure, and get me out of Bill's hair at least once a week for the summer.

Hot, it's been beastly hot and worrisomely dry. We need relief, preferably in the form of a week-long rain, to refill the creek and pond, and cool things off. Still, I'd rather have 2 months of unbearable heat instead of 7 months of interminable winter up north.

I've decided to make optimism my default position. Call it Scarlett O'Hara Syndrome, but I'm just going to think about everything "tomorrow" when I get grumpy or distraught. That will be my personal anti-depressant.

Rebellious Knitting

MaryAnn reminded me yesterday that I need to stop being such a contrarian and follow the pre-class instructions for the knitting class that starts a week from today.

Somehow, I was under the impression that this was a knitting "group," as in we all get together and knit our individual projects, the beginners getting expert advice from the more advanced members. But that is the result of having skimmed rapidly (as usual, missing the cogent information), the announcement of the class. It really is a class, taught through the UT Extension. We are supposed to show up with two sets of #9 needles, a skein of cotton (for knitting a dishcloth), and a skein of worsted weight (for a scarf).

I have never knitted with anything smaller than a #10.5 (I am all about the instant gratification, so I use BIG needles that make things move along much, much faster). I don't use dishcloths (unsanitary), I'm getting pretty comfortable with the scarf thing (I want to knit a beret), and from somewhere in the depths of my whiny-child brain rises a protestation of "do I have to?"

Yes, Pam--you do. So stop with the kvetching already, and get your sorry butt over to Walmart for a hunk of "Peaches & Cream" yarn and some baby needles.

I am so immature.

Off to the showers...

Hooray! I can shower today! I suppose I could just strip down and step outside, it's raining today. With my luck, I'd get all soapy and the sun would come out! So off to the boring old bathtub instead.

Yesterday's doctor visit brought no new surprises. I'm healing well (itch, itch), everything looks "good," and I am to return in 2 weeks. When I got home I realized that the appointment they gave me conflicts with the first meeting of the new Rogersville Knitting Club that I have been awaiting with anticipation. So, I'll change the appointment, because I'm not going to miss that gala affair!

I know, I'm weird. Bill and I went to town last night for the Car Show/BBQ/Bluegrass Music. It was mildly pleasant, but the best part was that I got to sit in my lawn chair listening to the bands and knit away contentedly on my almost-finished pastel basketweave scarf. I figure I have about 20 more rows to go on that puppy, and then I can start a new project with my fancy-dancy bamboo needles. I find I am becoming increasingly annoyed with the scrape-and-clink of the aluminum needles, and even though I am a beginner, the needles already have nicks and scratches in them, which catch on the yarn, making annoying little "pills" that have to be picked off. I don't know whether this is a result of the needles or the yarn I chose, or a combination of the two. This is why I need a club of knitters! People to tell me what the heck is going on. Also, someone who can decipher pattern instructions that so far look like gibberish to me. Nothing like jumping into a new hobby with absolutely no clue as to what I am doing!

Daughter Juli emailed to tell me she is completely thrilled with her new Cutco knives. She was so taken with the Super Shears, she confiscated them and decreed that no one but her was to touch them on pain of instant banishment! Maybe she's just worried about the boys and sharp objects? There are now 4 of them living in the two-bedroom apartment, Kerne's brother Beorn staying with them and occupying the giant beanbag chair for his "bed." Juli says she likes having Beorn around, because he is a compulsive housekeeper. She leaves a dirty house and comes home to a clean one. Wow. I need a Beorn for my abode! (Don't we all)?

But for today, the only goal is to get clean myself. So I will go do that...

Addicted to Sales

Most of you who know me, know I am all about the direct-selling business. I love buying stuff from people I know, I love selling stuff to people I know, and I adore being able to work at home in my P.J.s late at night or early in the morning, making my living without punching a time-clock.

My son Alex says that if we had a Family Crest, it would sport two mottoes: "Needs More Garlic!" and "Never Pay Retail." Whenever I see a product I love, I sign up to sell it--why not get what I want at deep discount? Why not share the joy with family & friends?

I started my first adventure in direct sales when I was 16, selling Jafra cosmetics. My best customers in college were not my peers, but the Hispanic housekeeping staff in the dorms. After they finished their shift, they would come to my dorm room en masse, sit on the floor for the afternoon, trying lipstick colors and making up each other's faces. I loved it.

In my single late twenties, I sold Avon door-to-door in my Costa Mesa neighborhood, mostly as a way to get to know my neighbors. When Bill and I were living with my parents in San Pedro and I was pregnant with Juliana, I did it again in that neighborhood, for spending money and exercise. People bought from me, maybe because they felt that anyone who was hugely pregnant and stomping around the suburbs, selling door-to-door, was desperate? True, we were pretty desperate then, but I enjoyed the walking and the personal interactions. And I even got to see inside some of those fabulous houses by the ocean.

When my kids were little, I fell in love with Discovery Toys and wanted most of them for my own children. I built up a nice little side business doing parties for moms who wanted developmental toys in bright colors for their kids. The home demonstrations were chaotic (because there were always a pack of whirling dervishes in the living room and crying babies in the kitchen), but the products virtually sold themselves, because the moms could see immediately what their kids liked right away.

Over the years, I've done direct selling for Pampered Chef, Tupperware, and of course, my enduring love, Longaberger baskets and pottery. I did it mostly because I have fun demonstrating products I believe in. And then there's that wholesale price thing.

When daughter Juli was visiting last month and said she wanted a good set of knives for a wedding present, I had her try out all the cutlery in my kitchen to see what she liked. She test-drove Lamson, Gerber (I'm glad she didn't fall in love with those, they no longer make kitchen knives, unfortunately), Victorinox, Henckels and Cutco. Being her mama's daughter, she decided she liked the Cutco best.

Now, these are the best: Made in the U.S.A. (still!) since 1949, high-carbon surgical stainless steel (Bill has had the stitches to prove it!), molded ergonomic thermo-resin handles, nickel-silver flush rivets, patented recessed Double-D serrated edges, perfectly balanced and pretty darn pricey, unless you're the type of person who thinks long-term amortization rather than buy-now, throw away next year. They also have a "forever" guarantee, which means if you own a Cutco knife or tool, it's warranted forever. And, anytime it loses its edge, Cutco will sharpen it for free. I just sent all of mine off to the factory for reconditioning this week, when I realized I've been using them for 14 years without rest.

I bought my first set when I enrolled in culinary school in 1994 and never regretted it. My parents liked them so much, they bought a set from Terry's brother when they came to visit us in NY one year. My brother and sister-in-law own them. Mark and Jo in Charlottesville got a set for a wedding present 30+ years ago, and use them everyday. Yes, it's a cult, but a nice one. When we see Cutco on each other's countertop, we know we are like-minded people.

It seemed logical when Juli made her choice, that I go online and find out if I could sign up to sell them (and save on that wedding present)! So I did that last week. I filled out an online application, got a call from the branch manager, went in for an interview, and was selected to become a rep.

Then came the training this week: Three days in Johnson City, with a dozen other trainees, all of whom were high school and college students, with no experience with direct sales at all. Talk about a fish out of water? I have 35+ years on these youngsters for one thing, and my butt doesn't sit in a metal folding chair for 6 hours without complaint! Actually, they were all very interesting, engaging people, though they did treat me as sort of a doddering grandma at times (maybe it was the knitting I brought along because I knew I would be bored)? They can't help it, these humorously arrogant youths. At times, it was even uplifting, as no one in the room guessed my real age--the oldest estimate they could come up with was 40 (ancient!), giving me a 15 year face-lift in one fell swoop! Ha! Fooled them! They really couldn't even conceive of someone being 55 and not in a home?

I tried very, very hard to behave myself for three days, and only slipped a couple of times. The manager who led the training was very enthusiastic, but a complete control freak. I think she was afraid, this being her first big responsible management job. My guess is that she is about 21 or 22, tops. She was highly disorganized, stupefyingly repetitive to the point of internal screaming frustration (mine), and inwardly terrified of not doing a "good job." Her butt is on the line, and it shows. The actual training could have been done in one painless six-hour session, if we were dealing with real-world, business-oriented adults. But the company is committed to training young students as their primary marketing force, so it was like being back in high school. And I wasn't all that compliant then, even when I was a student of that age. It was a sacrifice, and it was torture to sit there for 3 days, but I did it, and tried to enjoy what moments I could. Now I am free to sell Cutco cutlery.

Except that the manager still wants to be my mommy. She wants me to call her after every appointment, every freaking day! I rebel. I chafe. I don't even call my real mother everyday! And certainly not to be hounded, coached, cajoled, patted on the back or exhorted to do better. I know who I am. (I am so ancient and wise, after all)!

So, now that I have a contract, a reckoning will have to occur this week. Manager-mommy and I will have to have a discussion about the definition of an independent contractor versus her insane personal need to direct my every waking minute. I will be kind, but firm.

In the meantime, if you want Cutco, you now know who to call...

Wet Dog and Knitting 1-2-3

Echo rolled in something disgusting a few days ago, and when Bill and I got to the point of eye-watering nausea, something drastic had to be done. Washing the Dog is a tortured process, requiring two humans, a shower hose attachment, a one-gallon pitcher, Suave green apple shampoo, 14 towels, and a steely detachment to the distress of our pet.


There are no pictures of the actual process of cleaning the 80-pound beast. First, all hands were needed to prevent her from leaping out of our very deep tub. Second, because of all the water that ends up all over us and the bathroom, we wash the dog in our underwear. You really don't want to see that, trust me. But we do have a pitiful pic of the poor, mistreated animal:

Now we have a thoroughly disgruntled, but very sweet-smelling dog again.

Next up on the agenda: I have started a new hobby. Like I needed another one? My friend MaryAnn had been encouraging me to take up knitting, I became addicted to http://www.crazyauntpurl.com/ just before Bill came home, and I needed something to do besides read (and constantly be interrupted) while sitting in medical waiting rooms. So, I began to try to teach myself how to knit again.

My mom used to knit when I was growing up--she made a fabulous sweater for each of us in a really interesting variegated-thickness yarn, and then moved on to other endeavors. Her mother, my grandmother Alyce (whom I called "Mammo"), knitted and crocheted all through her life. So, presumably, at some point, I was taught basic knit and purl stitches. Could I remember how to do this?

I gave my first practice scarf (which took 3 weeks) to my daughter when she was here. She really liked it, as God-awful as it was, perhaps because it was physical confirmation that her mother did something really badly?

My next real project was just a straight knit stitch scarf. But there were problems. I kept picking up extra stitches from the void, and the scarf kept waxing larger and larger in width (and then narrowing down as I tried to get back to my original 16 stitches). And then there were the mysterious holes where stitches jumped off the needles and created hollows big enough to put my fist through. But, because it was fluffy eyelash yarn, the mistakes didn't show (much), I tied up the holes with patches, and decided I liked it anyway. I'll wear it when it's cold outside. It's weird, but hey, I'm a beginner! I'll keep it as a reminder to be humble.

When I neared the end of the yarn, I suddenly realized I didn't know how to stop, how to "cast off," as they say in the biz. MaryAnn directed me to a website hosted by Lion Yarn, with clear pictures and also an explanation as to why my scarf kept multiplying stitches. So, on to project number two.

This time, I decided to try to relearn the purl stitch by doing a basketweave pattern, suggested by Ashley, MaryAnn's daughter, on her website, http://www.amountainspirit.blogspot.com/ . I used a solid-color, soft acrylic yarn in Autumn Red, so I could see the stitches I was making. By the time I got to the end of that one, I was doing better, and actually had whole sections that looked okay. Still, the mistakes were glaring, and I decided to give this one to a friend who is changing his entire life, going off to become a Lutheran minister in mid-life. I figured that he will need a scarf in the Gettysburg, PA winters, and the mistakes will charm him in his new adventure, reminding him that we are all "imperfect," and "works in progress."

Now, my latest project in a self-striping yarn is turning out to be much, much better. This one, I'm actually proud of. I did a simple garter stitch (notice how quickly I'm picking up the knitting jargon!) of 3 stitches on the edges and ends, plus the basketweave pattern. Because of the garter stitching, it is not all poinky and curled on the edges like the red one--it lies flat! And though I obsessively count my stitches when finishing each row, I'm holding steady to my original 26. I have even figured out how to catch a mistake and carefully undo it, while picking up the original loop to do it over correctly. I am starting to see how this all works.

So here is my knitting 1-2-3:

I love the idea of taking something simple (a single strand of yarn) and turning it into something complex. It's like baking bread, using the humblest of ingredients (flour, water, yeast), and making something three-dimensional and delicious!

It also soothes me. The steady click of the needles, the opportunity to take a break at the end of each row. It's contemplative and creative. As Aunt Purl says, "it's the new Yoga", (without the grunts and groans accompanying the contortions, I say)!

And of course, I'm already obsessing: I bought fancy bamboo needles on eBay yesterday, have already stocked 3 years worth of on-sale yarn from Big Lots, have "my knitting bag" by the door, and am contemplating getting circular needles. I'm thinking hats, socks, leg warmers. MaryAnn is starting a Friday morning knitting group at her church in June. And already, I'm biting off more than I can chew. The story of my life!

So guess what you're getting for Christmas this year?