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blueshoefarm at gmail dot com.... and that would be how to reach me

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Escher inspired knitting

I have always been surrounded by friends who have multiple creative skills.  One is a master knitter and the other a prolific knitter so I have been the recipient of some stellar pieces that you can find on my feet, around my neck and on my hands.   My first meeting with the neurologist he asked if I knitted. Nope. Or played the piano. Nope. Anything that my two hands would have to do together so my left hand use would come back, that my brain would have to work to link the sides together.
After a couple months, I called up my knitter friends.  "I need to start knitting."
Them: "OK."  So we meet up once a week at a coffee shop to knit.
 My daughter Rose joined us since she was knitting in gradeschool with Geri (the master). Rose had a few requirements, being the cool teenager in the bunch.  We were not a club, but a gang. We are the K-Gang with a symbol of two crossed knitting needles as our "gang" sign.  Us adults get an enormous amount of mirth out of being corrected every time we say knitting club.  Rose said it definitely was not cool she was knitting on Sundays with a bunch of women. But secretly, I know she loves it.  These women are all her aunties... not related by blood, but I just about have a blood oath that if something happens to me they need to step in.
 Anyway, after my required scarf as a first project, Geri sent me on to do a hat.  Everyone told me DO NOT TWIST when doing to circle for the hat. Yeah, yeah, so I was careful.  See the above? It took me a while to figure out there is no magic I can do do untwist that.  The sad thing is that it took me 5 rip outs to get that far.  I would like you to take note of the lovely knitting.  I think the other club gang members were shaking their heads everytime they would find out I ripped it out yet again.  But I want to wear it, and I won't if it is a big lumpy mess with missing stitches.  Can we say p-e-r-f-e-c-t-i-o-n-i-s-m.  It does help with the retaining the brain.  Geez, in the beginning it was like reinventing the wheel, I could almost feel the sputtering and grinding in my head as I tried to get my fingers to make incremental moves between needle and yarn.  But it gets easier. I should have that hat done at the height of summer heat at this rate.

Spring frogs

Last night I called the kids outside in the dark.  My son does not like the dark, my daughter was in her pj's.  We stood there together listening to one lone frog call coming from the wetlands.  I don't know how they work that singing thing... are all the other ones just sitting in silence until all thousand start singing at the same time?  What is their signal? Because it really is "all at once".  So Feb. 13th is frog day for 2012.
Unrelated picture since I am lousy at frog hunting: This is little Chuck, who passed away this winter and was buried in the animal graveyard we acquired with the farmhouse.  I know he just looks like a rodent that my cat brings me when she thinks I am a failure as a hunter but he had a big personality, with an addiction to cheese.

Monday, February 13, 2012

Dining room paint job

Finished room color. SO exotic. SO unusual. Called cottage white. I am a color wimp.

My bay window in the dining room is showing signs of 'tilt'... they windows don't quite seal anymore. Sigh. Note my old emergency princess phone?  Supposedly us earthquake prone landlubbers need one because cell phones will not work when the big one hits -- they will be overwhelmed and calls won't go through. 

Amanda waiting for me to finish painting. I am somewhat messy about it.

I used to like painting but my teeny dining room cured that. With five doorways what seemed a two day job has taken ten. I did strip all the door hardware and refinish them... taking off YEARS of overpaint. And I did get to see one of the early paint colors - rather a blue green with the consistency of a milk paint... and I did get to curse 100 years of painting the trim without sanding which makes a big rumply paint mess ... gee, am I complaining?

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Quiet on the homefront

It is not really quiet here but I have been laptop-less. I decided it had a bug so took it to a friend who does that for a living (computers). I am not on the computer near as much but thought I could do an update --since it is not still snowing here -- that is but a faraway dream.
I have been busy tracking down hay for the picky horses, "organizing", painting, cleaning, parenting, and washing my bird-bombed cars repeatedly.  I don't know what it is about the birds this year but somedays I feel I am living in the tropics from the cacophany above.  And they certainly make my cars look -- spotty. I am also waiting for my annual spring frogs to start up their singing. The first year I noticed it started exactly on Valentines Day (which I thought appropriate since they are singin' frog lovesongs) the next it was about a month later.  It goes on for months, which I don't mind, even though it is REALLY LOUD.
I have a Sequim story.  Sequim is a sleepy, former farm community(now retirement leaning) supposedly sunnier than the rest of the NW town on the water in Washington.  It is also known for its lavender fields... and I go there for berries every year.  When you google Sequim one thing they don't show is the haphazard development of this town, they choose the lovely farm fields and seashore, which is not what you experience when you first take the Sequim exit.  Anyway.... 
My friend and I went up there on Friday - me to find hay, she to visit since she used to live there.  There was also an estate sale I wanted to go to.  We hauled up there - about an hour away - and I bought a craftman tool storage unit (organizing!) and a giant antique marble table top (I don't know what for! Probably art...)  found hay and a great breakfast place.  I had the Buick which would not fit the tool storage, so drove up the next day with the minivan to pick it up.  They were having adopt-a-dog day at the local coop where I am a member and I met a teeny 8 lb canine (not as dumb as I thought ) and a huge 200lb. St. Bernard (I can't believe how big it was) and miraculously did not come home with a dog.  It is good there are people willing to foster all these pups and pay their medical bills.  End result : found hay and more projects to accomplish.

Courtesy Livia Comandini
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