Why is there no Packrats Anonymous?

Ms. Packratty spent most of her weekend excavating the guest room. Bags of assorted crap were trundled out to the garbage. Yarn was herded back into yarn bins. Clothing found its way into "dry cleaning" and "mending" baskets or onto hangers. More junk and trash and crap was bagged and hauled away. The bed is now clear of stuff. The new little basket system for the laundry room is working well.

That said, the bathroom still needs caulking and debriding of junk. And some general scrubbing.

The foyer is still a bit of a tip. And the kitchen needs one more big push. I'd like to sit on the floor and pull things out of the lower cabinets and decide which things are going to MA and TX and then be able to stow the nice new Calphalon stuff I've been buying. If I can clear the cabinets, I can deal with the countertop over the dishwasher which has been accruing clutter like a magnet attracts iron filings. Maybe I need another one of those clever bins for collecting the various semi-disposable food containers and lids ... Hmm, it's working for the laundry.

And I don't even want to think about what's behind the couch and needs to be cleared out.

That said, if I can put in another good solid hour in the guest room tonight and tomorrow night, that should be done and then I can work on the bathroom and kitchen.

But it was not all debridement this weekend. In addition to last week's dishcloths/potholders, more got knitted this weekend. The round ones are easiest - Ms. Packratty watched the first half of the PBS version of Jane Eyre last night and completed an entire dishcloth during the show, which was marvelous. http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/masterpiece/janeeyre/index.html Next Sunday will definitely find Ms. Packratty perched on her couch, knitting and teapot at hand.

Love these colors, however while one brand of cotton yarn produces two dishcloths, the other produces just shy of 2, so the best alternative is to buy 2 balls and make three round and a small square, I guess.

The potroast, once cubed, produced a lovely stew, and since it is cold and dreary outside still, Ms. Packratty suspects that it will be as comforting tonight as it was last night after getting damp and cold walking Charlie.

Ms. Packratty has been taken to task for failing to post more pictures of Delilah Fuzzybutt. Despite having the camera at hand all weekend, Delilah obstinately refused to pose. We shall continue to endeavor to get pictures of her looking adorable or imperious or amusing.

9 days and counting

Ms. T will be here in 9 days and the guest room and loo must be ready for her.

Today's progress: a bunch of junk removed from the computer corner of the room and dragged out to the dumpster. Also a bunch of linens run through the wash and all the grout in the tub squirted with grout cleaner. I found TWO dead keyboards lurking in a corner - did I suppose they were going to be healed? Sheesh. And some more dishes washed and a start on getting the kitchen spiffed up a wee bit.

Friday am's task is to remove still more junk from the computer corner, take hanging clothes up to the upstairs closet and start getting all the rest of the loose yarn back into bins.

Friday p.m., I plan to get the bins back in the closet and make sure all the tub caulk that needs to be scraped out has been done. And continue to work on hanging, washing and sorting stuff, including getting all the stuff needing drycleaning in one place and all the shoes in another.

Saturday a.m. is time to caulk the tub and cart out all the boxes from the foyer that accumulated in the last 2 months.

Let's see how I do with these plans.

I did go buy 4 shallow bins for the laundry room shelf - one for socks, one for undies, one for kitchen stuff and one for things like bluing bottle, bleach stick, dryer balls, dryer sheets, stain spotter, etc. I do need to do more to fix up and organize the one shelf until I can put in a track shelf system with a bit more storage, but it's a big start. It feels like something that Ms. Packratty can deal with. And bought more hangers as I clearly need them. Can one have too many hangers - I mean the good plastic kind, not the metal and paper ones from the cleaners?

Dishcloth pictures tomorrow - can't find the batteries right now.

Thank you, Knitty.com

After plundering every knitting book in the house and a couple at the library, my head hurt. I could see the drawings of the cable caston, but they might as well have been Attic Greek. Then I went to www.knitty.com and there was an explanation with photographs. With contrasting colors of yarn. It made sense. I think. Now I have to see how I do when the yarn finally comes to start the hat for my father.

And got half of a dishcloth done at work between calls and other stuff. Done on much smaller needles, I think these will be thick enough to be potholders, without sewing two together.

10 Days until Ms. T arrives and there is about a month of work to be done on the guest room and guest loo. Tomorrow, the plan of action.

Sniff, sniff

Yes, Ms. Packratty still has the sniffles, but she is feeling much better and boy, is Charlie happy. Walkies, walkies. Sick leave is a wonderful thing - when a cold shows signs of colonizing the Packratty throat or chest, it's time to rest and try to stay well.

One of Ms. Packratty's dearest friends is coming East in 2 weeks after the birth of her first grandchild, so Ms. Packratty is contemplating the heaps in the guest room and going "oh dear". On second look, she estimates she should be able to finish grouting and caulking in the guest loo and dejunking the bedroom ... sometime after the newborn's first birthday. On the other hand, in an emergency, there's no limit on what the Packratty hands and back can accomplish.

Picture of the day is Charlie with little fellow who was visiting a neighbor Monday. Charlie has never heard that West Highland White Terriers don't like children ...

The ruin of a weekend

I had a 3 day weekend, leftover vacation from 2006. I had big plans for working on Chez Packratty. But that beastly cold intervened and Ms. Packratty spent most of the weekend wheezing, weeping and honking.

However, by Monday, Ms. Packratty was able to essay a trip to get her eyes examined - and of course, new lenses are needed at a budgetbusting total.

However, that accomplished and weeping behind the geekly temporary sunglasses, Ms. Packratty went over to admire the now 8-day-old puppies and give Charlie a bath. He is now a handsome, sweet-smelling pup again.

Here are the puppies and Charlie.





















On the knitting front, another 3 inches has been added to the brioche afghan and half of another dishcloth completed. The hat kit arrived, with the wrong color yarn - now being shipped - and Ms. Packratty needs to find someone to teach her the cast-on prescribed in the pattern, as the diagrams in her knitting books make her head hurt.

Charlie grows up

Charlie, part 2

One of the big highlights of the year was actually having vacation time and enough spare change to take a vacation on my own. I love my family, but the fact that I was able to enjoy almost a week at the beach without them was grand. My endlessly cheerful aunt and uncle were gone too, so there were a couple of days when Ms. Packratty only got out of her PJs to go swimming and walk Charlie.

Charlie was entranced by two things at the beach. One was the IMMENSE pine cones shed by many, many pine trees- there were so many he had trouble making up his mind which one he wanted to pick up and carry about. Here is a picture of Charlie with one cone about as big as his head. OK, it's blurry, but Ms. Packratty was laughing her fanny off at the moment.














The other object of Charlie's affections was the golf cart. After coaxing him up onto it once, Ms. Packratty discovered that she had created a monster. No matter when Charlie was taken outside - midnight, 6 a.m., high noon, he ever after assumed that it meant he would get to go for a ride. If a ride did not appear to be forthcoming, he would go leap into the cart as if to encourage his prospects - as the picture below shows:
















There was no success in getting a picture of Charlie at the beach. He learned to swim, but liked it best when he was firmly on lead and headed out to the big sand bar at low tide. The need to keep him under some control until onto the sand bar limited Ms. Packratty's swimming - also because there is a very firm limit on the amount of time the Packratty dermis can be exposed to the sun without turning a rather lobsterish hue. All in all, and despite arriving to find the AC was off and struggling for what felt like hours to get it working, it wasn't a bad trip.

The other big event for Charlie was meeting his cousin Caroline. He has not yet met his cousin Charles Here's a picture of Charlie and Caroline:
















For the anniversary of Charlie's "gotcha" day, he made a new friend. The mail lady is definitely not afraid of a happy Westie.


And that's my year with Charlie.

It's all about Charlie

A year ago today, I drove to Alabama on a cold sunny day and picked up Charlie from his foster parent Martha. They thought Charlie was about 9 months old.

Right off the bat, I discovered that Charlie loved riding in the car.

Here's a picture I snapped of him while we were riding back from Leeds, AL where we rendesvoused with Martha. The collar didn't fit. He was too small for any of Miranda's old tack.

Then came the unfortunate incident the next morning with the cat (who has apparently forgiven him and treats him mostly with amused toleration) that led to calling Marleen for HELP! Marleen, who has raised enough pups to boggle the mind, took Charlie in hand for the afternoon that day while I went to the dentist and pronounced him to be much younger - maybe 7 months old - than initially believed, which explained some of his wildness. Charlie quickly settled in with the help of frequent "doggie day care" visits to Marleen and her crew. Going down for a few hours of romp time with DeeDee is still one of his favorite things.

After a few weeks, Charlie got to get in the car again and go meet his grandparents.

Fun in the woods


















Running in spring grass ....


















Next: Charlie discovers the beach.

I hab a code ... in my node

Ms. Packratty hates being ill; she particularly dislikes being ill and feeling as though she can't breath and it really irritates her when she falls ill on the eve of a three-day weekend that she had planned to use for home improvement purposes.

At least it is not the flu. It is clearly just an upper respiratory thing that is showing no major ambitions for colonizing the Packratty lungs.

Late to work because of cold remedy grogginess, but in my stupor, did finish third dishcloth in 3 days. I think I like the round ones better. I'm going to try one of those on a smaller needle and see if it gives me a thicker fabric that might work for a potholder without doubling.

Of all the things to worry about ....

Seems that Blue Moon Fiber Arts out in Oregon, peddlers of the infamous Socks That Rock sock club (something Ms. Packratty is inspired to avoid by the rather hefty pricetag, but which she nonetheless admires as killer marketing) had their bank decide that this "sock club" thing must be some sort of scam and proceeded to reverse all the credit card transactions for the shop for the sock club and return the money to the senders. Ms. Packratty rather suspects that the bank would have had no problem imagining that men might subscribe to a "beer club" or a "football jersey club", but a woman-owned business that has been happily flogging what is clearly superior sock yarn is somehow running a scam? Jeez, for your average bank with their crazy fees to talk about someone else scamming is a bit much, you know?

See The Yarn Harlot for the whole story. It's enraging. I hope they sue. For a big pile of money.

The sudden shifts in weather have hit and I am sniffling. And unhappy. Don't know if it is an impending cold or just some transient misery. Hoping for the transient misery.

The vile coffee pot remains vile. The mold cultures haven't expanded visibly. The piggish co-worker is still out ... wonder how long we'll have to look at it.

Brioche stitch afghan progress

Progress on the brioche stitch afghan in the yummy chocolate merino. This wool is really pleasant to work with and it's Bernat, not one of the ultra expensive brands. Considering that I bought 9 100 gram skeins of of it, a good price was crucial. I've been assured that a gentle washing will make it even nicer.

The plush quality and the no wrong side of it also make it really nice, I think, for an afghan.

Hideous day at work - too many people out and too many things going wrong and when you top it of by attending the condominium board meeting on an empty stomach. Well.

Not to mention that one of the last things Ms. Packratty saw as she exited the office was:

Yes, Day 6. The guilty co-worker left early sick. Gee, just imagine — if he lets his coffee pot in a public area where other people have to look at it get like this — what his apartment must look like. Shudder.


On a far nicer subject, must mention the loverly beaded counting bracelets for knitters being made by the loverly and multi-talented Nancy Hanger at: http://www.windhaven.com/bracelets/

A knitter and spinner herself, Nancy is also a gifted editor, copyeditor and pre-press expert and an artist and writer as well. Got to love those folks whose multiple gifts encourage humility in the rest of us.

Day 5 of Disgusting

No, the co-worker has not cleaned up his mold experiment.

It grows increasingly gross.

It sits about 3 feet from me, but fortunately on the other side of a cube wall. Which is worse, the mold spores or the reek of the el cheapo brew he uses?

Maybe he should have to drink this as is?


In better news, Ms. Packratty has discovered that she can knit dishcloths and still (mostly) watch television. No pictures, we left them at home, but knocked out 2 dishcloths and part of a third while watching the reruns of Star Trek last night.

I wonder if I knit them tighter on a smaller needle if they will make acceptable potholders, or would I have to double them up?

The afghan progresses. The hat kit is on order. Until I get the hat kit started and the afghan finished, the dishcloths must answer for "small knitting" - to satisfy my inner child who wants fast results.

Some Finished Knitting

Yes, indeed, the socks for Mom are finished. Now perhaps Ms. Packratty will get around to mailing Christmas packages. Yes, isn't that horrible?

Now I am back to the afghan, the odd dishcloth/potholder and it's time to order the hat I plan for Dad.






Yeah! It's this http://www.woodlandwoolworks.com/Knitting/Yarn/ISR/CorpsHat/ISRCorpsHat.html Other than this purchase, planned since November, I am trying to be good and knit from stash. But I doubt that I'll refrain wholly from buying yarn. Unless potholder/dishcloth yarn is exempt.

And it's now January 8 and the co-worker's experiment in mold culture is continuing:

The nastiness of it was pointed out and he more or less just shrugged. If it stays like this a couple more days, I may just disappear it into the trash. Ick!

And then there were four ....

Shortly after 7:30 p.m. Sunday, Jill produced a healthy male puppy, followed in fairly quick succession by two more pups, both female. All 8 ounces or slightly more and full of wiggles.

Marleen got home after driving from Pensacola in time to clean up.

I caught the first one on my own and then had help from Joe with the last two.

Fun, but I'm tired ....

Charlie was downstairs and I left him at Marleen's. It was rainy and I was tired and he can have a long, long play day tomorrow.

Waiting for puppies

Jill is trying to decide whether to have her puppies. Her temperature says she's been ready since yesterday, but Marleen is out of town and we think she's trying to wait. Not a great move, because Marleen's plane back from Pensacola is grounded, along with every other plane in and out of that city and Marleen is driving home. From the Redneck Riviera on a rainy foggy Sunday evening. She could be hours and hours and hours.

Meanwhile, Joe who spent all night up and down checking on Jill is off to teach a class, so Ms. Packratty is waiting here with Jill. The upside is that I've also laundered 4 dogs and will shampoo Charliedog Rufus real soon now and I'm about 10 minutes from finally finishing Mom's pair of socks. I was done and then I spotted a dropped stitch and had to unpick the toe and frog back half an inch. The downside is that laundry and dishes back at Chez Packrat are not getting done. I think I have clean trousers and a blouse to wear tomorrow though.

And I have a book and another knitting project to keep me occupied once the second sock is done. However, I am somewhat nervous being here alone, although I have all the tools and Jill is supposedly having only 3 puppies. Even if they come very quickly, I should be able to handle it. I hope.

All that said, here's a picture of Jill lounging on my leg looking mournful.

Epiphany

Christmas is over. Of course, the amaryllis I started 6 weeks before Christmas is just barely starting to unfurl a bud today.

In other news, there is no news. My friend Marleen went out of town to judge a dog show and one of her females immediately began showing many signs of impending delivery. But after waiting around for about 4 hours, Jill was still walking around and eating and not having contractions, so home we came to get some housework done and rest. I suspect Marleen's husband may be calling in the wee hours if she decides to get started, but otherwise, it could be tomorrow afternoon.

Waiting around, though, let me get a good bit of work done on Mom's second sock. I've decided that I do everything else different, so why not sock knitting? Everyone else talks about second sock syndrome, but for me, it's all the decisions about cuff length, foot length and when to start the toe that slow me way down on the first sock, but then I seem to get through sock the second in about half the time. And then I want to do the Lewis & Clark hat for Dad, finish the wedding afghan and Marleen's shawl - my stash gave up 6 balls of a slightly fuzzy white yarn in wool and silk that will *not* show Westie fur. I hope to have the second sock finished off tomorrow. That would feel really good.

My co-worker is a pig

Yes. That's MOLD. Disgusting, yes? And yes, the co-worker this belongs to is male.

So the 11th Day of Christmas brings a queasy stomach looking at this mess.

Seduced by more yarn

I fell off the wagon.

It was this. I love peonies. The notion of knitting and felting them sent me to the yarn store in a frenzy. I have pattern. I have yarn. I have 5 things to knit for Christmas and not a chance of finishing any of them. But I have the pattern.

I want a month off from work to finish the house and sit and knit for a while without the alarm going off and catapulting me into another workday.

Of all the things that wealth gives people, I think the sheer luxury of time might be the greatest, although I suspect it's not the first or third or tenth thing that people think of if they fantasize about suddenly having money.

Speaking of time - I must wrap presents tonight and ship tomorrow; get the car smogged and registered; finish the socks I started for my mother; order the kit for what I plan to knit for Dad.

50 is the new 30

The Hell it is.

I don't care what my brother and sister Boomers want to try to deceive and delude themselves with. We aren't 30. We are't hip. We aren't even middle-aged anymore, because darned few of us are going to make it to the century mark and beyond.

Having just marked a birthday, I'm cranky. I'm tired of seeing women my age and older trotting around in skirts shorter than what they probably wore in high school. GROW UP, folks. Enjoy this stage of life for what it is, instead of trying to be what you were.

Of course, ever since the fibromyalgia hit, a decade and a half ago, I've gotten periodic opportunities to try on old age. It's not for the weak of heart. But there are upsides. I walk more slowly when things hurt and pull - and sometimes, as a result, I see things that I would have zoomed past 20 years ago. It's certainly not enough to compensate for the pain, but it's nice to realize that there are some plusses to a slower life. The other thing that it's given me is a lot more compassion for older relatives and friends. I know what waking up stiff in every fiber is like.

And then there's this that someone sent me a week or two ago — "Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, martini in the other, totally worn out and screaming, "WOO HOO what a ride!" Make mine a Manhattan, with sweet vermouth, straight up. On second thought, make it a double. And pass the chocolate.

Tink ... Tink ... Tink ...

I love the brioche stitch. I do, truly. It makes the loveliest plushy sort-of ribbed fabric. And it's easy.

But OHMYGOD is it a pain in the posterior when you make a mistake. You *cannot* frog it - the YOs, the slipped stitches and the K2togs create an unholy mess if you try to frog back a couple of rows to correct an error; nor do I have the brainpower or expertise to drop stitches back down to an error and go back up. So it's either rip out to the garter border (which happened twice before I got on a roll) or TINK, TINK, TINK .... (for the non-knitter, that's unknitting back - one stitch at a time until you reach the mistake - and, yes, it's BORING).

This is a nice piece though - a co-worker just got married and it is the start of an afghan for her. I got tired of buying disposables for wedding presents and most people don't get silver or china anymore, so I've just instituted a policy of knitting something for them.

A funny note, when I was working on an afghan 2 years ago for another couple, someone commented that I was smart to "save money" by making my present. I said "Really?" and asked them if they thought $50 in wool and 100+ hours of my time was "saving money". It really would be so much easier just to go buy them the damned electric can opener, you know?

This one will use up 8-9 200 yard+ skeins of a deep chocolate brown merino wool before I'm done. Not cheap and 8+ feet of afghan isn't exactly something you can whip out in an hour or two. Non-knitters who think a> that yarn is cheap and b> that knitting an afghan is an evening or two's work amaze me. Good heavens, even Wal-mart acrylic isn't inexpensive (it is cheap, but the other sort, you know).

OK, back to TINKing - I think I have about another 3/4s of a row to knit back before I reach the root of the problem, then I can turn around and reknit the 5 or so rows I undid.

Other WIPs .... a teal silk oh-so-shimmery feather and fan scarf; a pair of cotton and wool socks for Mother; a pair of felted clogs for Tobye; a toddler blanket for former manager's middle child. I need to frog the partially completed dog sweater that a> I never could understand the pattern and b> I lost the pattern to. I have wool for 3 other sets of clogs, 4 more pair of socks and some other little lovelies, but not enough weeks left in the year.

The problem is, of course, that Ms. Packratty could quite easily fill all of the hours of the day doing things she is interested in - without ever going near a paying job. In my 20s and 30s, I lived to work - now that I'm almost 52, I would, finances permitting, quite happily stay at home, do volunteer stuff, putter around, knit, read, walk the dog, etc. Not that work isn't interesting - just that left to my own devices, I can amuse myself quite well without the necessity of dealing with some of the morons one encounters either in the workplace or on one's commute to and from said workplace.

Now if Ms. Packratty could just find someone who wished to pay her adequately for reading, knitting etc. ... The blessing at this job being that I slid knitting between calls right in under the manager's radar simply taking it for granted that no sane boss would have a problem with a quiet, productive activity. The new manager doesn't seem to see it as an issue either. I recall working as a contractor for the tech support department of Large Soft Drink Corporation where the manager was so anti-knitting that I could not even knit at my desk during my dinner break. Of couse, the co-workers watching movies, reading, wandering around the office visiting one another and just plain screwing around were OK. Funny, that. Always liked what manager at one job said to corporate suit. "Of course knitting isn't an issue. They're in their seats, quiet and available to take calls." I'd managed to subvert 2 other women and one guy (who had learned to knit as a child) into joining me in playing with sticks and string at work.

The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord

Grey Huntingford Wyman Jr. joined his wife, Merle Howell Wyman in life eternal with God this day, leaving the rest of us richer for having known him and poorer for losing his presence in our lives.

Grey was born in 1922; graduated from Mercersburg Academy (where his father taught) and went to Brown University at the age of 16. Four years later, as World War II raged, he joined his older brother, Austin, in the Army Air Corps. When the war was over, Austin had been lost somewhere in the Pacific, his remains never found and his fate not known — while Grey had won the Distinguished Flying Cross.

Grey returned to Brown and graduated and went to work for Merrill Lynch, Pierce Fenner and Beane (at the time). He retired from that same company close to 40 years later.

Grey met Merle in Charleston, South Carolina. Raised on Johns Island, Merle was the antithesis of Grey's Yankee background — they married in 1963 in Tampa, Florida and were devoted to each other and their daughters - Pamela and Patricia - until Merle's untimely death of amyloidosis in 1985. They became part of our lives in 1967, shortly before Pamela's birth.

When I entered the ECUSA in college, I named Grey and Merle my godparents, as they had honored my mother and I in naming us as godmothers to Pamela and Patricia respectively. They filled an uncommon role in my life - they were my parents' peers, but they were always also friends to me.

Grey underwent triple bypass surgery in the early 1980s, making a full recovery just as Merle began to suffer from the disease that would kill her shortly. It was close to 20 years after his bypass before he reluctantly (at the age of 80+) gave up his annual skiing trips to Colorado and Utah with a group of other Merrill Lynchers self-titled "The Over The Hill Gang".

Suffering from congestive heart failure that gradually whittled his life down to the end, Grey fought valiantly with the faithful love and support of Pamela and Patricia and died peacefully today.

Another member of this country's Greatest Generation has left the battlefield of life.


Our Lord Jesus Christ, who by thy death didst take away the sting of death; Grant unto us thy servants so to follow in faith where thou hast led the way, that we at length may fall asleep peacefully in thee, and awake up after thy likeness; through thy mercy, who livest with the Father and the Holy Ghost, one God, world without end. Amen