Thank you, The Management

At the Knitz household, things are getting wild. The baby wakes up, rubs her eyes, puts her index finger in the air and says, "Doggy!" Uncle Murphy wakes up more slowly, but pretty soon she's kissing his face and he's licking her belly. They chase the Oscar together. The cat teases them both by staying just out of reach. Norah is the only sensible creature. She stays close to me.

Baby is on the move, and it has reinvigorated the middle-aged dog. He previously spent most of his time lying on a dog bed and snoring, which was just about the perfect speed for me. Now, during dinner, he walks around the dinner table on his back legs and runs his nose along the edge of the table in hopes of finding a tidbit to swipe. He knows that this is not approved behavior and he does most of it on the opposite side of the table from me where I cannot see him. A friend told me this is called "table surfing." I call it "vexing." Baby thinks it is charming. Visitors cannot hide their amusement. Finally, I carry him off to his crate. We are both disgraced.

The problem is that I am The Man. This would be so much funnier if I weren't responsible for safety, cleanliness, and appropriate behavior. Instead I say "Uh-uh" to the dog and "No-no" to the baby and place them in situations where they can behave constructively. Being the protocol droid is a drag.

I really enjoy the times when all of us, dog, cats, and baby are sprawled on the floor in the living. We read, snooze, stack blocks, and snuggle. Knitting is out of the question. Any of the beloved culprits would steal the yarn if I show a moment of weakness, so we hang out and learn the intricacies of shape sorters and listen to Public Radio.

And before anyone gets a bright idea, please don't lick my food.

Thank you,

The Management

Happy New Year!

2010 was all about love. I am eager to see what 2011 holds.

1) Baby -- having a baby changed my life this year. Everyone says life will change when a baby arrives, but I was completely unprepared for the overwhelming love for this little person. Discovering that family and friends wanted to share the joy makes it even more special.

2) Norah Returns -- In 2009, Uncle Murphy (a.k.a. a dog) arrived, and Norah the cat retreated to a high, dusty shelf in an unfinished portion of the basement. In 2010 she rejoined us upstairs. Uncle Murphy was overjoyed to see her. Maybe next year she will let him touch her, but I'm not holding my breath.

3) Peanut Butter and Banana Sandwiches -- Quick, easy, yummy. This is what sustained me in 2010, while I figured out how to do things like cook and clean while holding a baby.

4) Audiobooks -- I will never have to decide whether to knit or read again. Lovely.

5) Facebook -- Even though Facebook's ever-changing security settings give me the creepy-crawlies, friends and family seem much closer than ever.

6) Pushing Daisies -- current favorite cancelled tv show. Refrigerator is called a "cheesebox." Need I say more?

7) Crusty Brussels Sprouts -- makes a delicious veggie even better.

8) Real Life Heroines -- three friends fought and won battles against breast cancer this year, and they did it with grace and strength

9) Knitting -- I've discovered no less than 5 half-knitted socks while cleaning. Is it a previously undocumented side-effect of pregnancy? One pair of baby booties was also knitted although they vanished somewhere between Wichita and Milwaukee.

10) Cheese, of course.

Hobbies and Passions

My aunt and uncle returned from a trip to Cuzco. My uncle was struck by the how young the Peruvian children are when they begin spinning. I was struck by how much still I wanted to go to Cuzco and visit the Center for Traditional Textiles of Cuzco.

It was a momentary pang. Right now I'm hanging out with Miss Pip and enjoying cooing conversations and baby smiles. We read The Runaway Bunny and Ten Little Fingers and Ten Little Toes. She gums my fingers and pulls off my glasses. I tickle her chin.

I'm ready for next spring when she will be a little hardier and able to wander in the backyard while I garden. My sister has already laughed at my plans, so please pretend that I will be able to return to the garden one day.

For now, I've found that Pip is quite happy to play with wooden blocks while I work at the spinning wheel. Sometimes a dishcloth gets knitted too. When I'm finished playing with string, we both love snuggling up for a nap.

More Knitting

My knitting mojo has suffered lately, so I made a trip to Twist on Saturday. A survey of the shop showed people knitting yarn cozies, sweaters, lace shawls, and socks. It was all so lovely and complex, but I wanted something that I was sure to finish. I picked out green and pink dishcloth cotton for a ballband dishcloth. Or, maybe the Mason-Dixon description lured me in the same way it always does.

"Here's the classic dishcloth recipe that goes with Peaches & Creme the way champagne goes with truffles. Or a Diet Rite Cola with a Moon Pie, to be more exact."

Several hours later, I nearly have a finished dishcloth.

New Knitz Girl

I'm pleased to announce a new addition to the Knitz household. Two weeks ago tomorrow, my daughter, Pip, was born. I'm completely enchanted, in love, in awe. My thoughts run strictly along the lines of mushy Hallmark cards. If there were an original way to say how much joy she brings, I would attempt it. As it is, I'll leave it to the imagination.

She took her first trip to Twist Yarn Shop earlier this week. Susan reminded me that she must have her first picture with knitting needles soon. I wonder if she is old enough to touch the Addi Turbos.

Closets and Cleaning

The Wamego Wool Fest is next weekend. Part of me really wants to go. Last year was the first year, and attendance was high. I bought some of the softest alpaca roving I've ever touched. (My sister got the yarn for Christmas.) Plus driving through the Flint Hills on a fleecy adventure is elating.

This year, I'm opting for comfort. I plan to stay inside and hide from the cold weather. My goal this week is to clean out the spare bedroom/office/cave, and Saturday will be a good day to finish that task.

Yesterday I began by excavating the closet. Odds and ends have been going in that closet for over five years. Some of the layers were fun to see -- birth announcements from my friends, long-lost books, a favorite set of sheets. The one treasure was several yards of a golden-tapestry fabric that can be sewn into valances for windows.

My old friend denial lingered everywhere. During the divorce, I must have tossed anything I didn't want to deal with in that closet. My wedding dress. Papers with his name on it? Closet. Ratty old t-shirts? Closet. Old photographs? Why not put them in the closet? Ten years of his family pictures were in there and so was old advertising material from a previous employer of his. It was like getting divorced again only the emotions were faded and distant. I had some forgiveness and understanding. Besides, he's visiting next weekend to help me move some furniture. It doesn't feel lonely like it did at first. I like to think we're both happier.

The most remarkable part of the closest was the volume it held. Since I wanted to wipe down the walls of the closet and vacuum, I started by tossing everything out in the middle of the room. (This violates one of Fly Lady's most practical bits of advice: "Don't pull out more than you can put back in an hour." My experience only underscores that she's right.) The debris that came out of the closet took up residence in the living room, dining room, and basement. I've been putting things where they belong, tossing trash, and taking bags of old things to the Salvation Army. One closet filled the entire house, which surely violates the laws of physics.

My goal is to have the closet contents dealt with by Saturday. The entryway closet is next on the list, but it may have to wait several months until I forget what it took to empty this one.

Happy New Year

Happy New Year, everyone! I hope it brings happiness and good health.

The New Year began with the Elizabeth Zimmerman Baby Surprise Jacket. This is my first EZ project, and I'm excited about it. It is cast on, and I'm knitting. It seems straight-forward in design, and I've seen several expert knitters create one quickly. However, this pattern is requiring a good amount of faith on my part. I'm mired the decreases and feeling uncertain about whether I'm knitting it properly.

The weather is very cold here and staying inside to knit is a wonderful luxury. Both cats and the dog piled on the recliner to doze with me this afternoon. I hope the truce lasts longer than the cold weather.

Garden catalogs are filling my mailbox too. Looking a pictures of peonies, iris, and foxglove give me hope for spring when fresh parsley and lettuce will be available in the backyard. Or, when I can knit lace shawls on the deck with the sun on my skin.

Until then, I feel very lucky to a have cozy home with such warm, little heat mooches for snuggling.

Turkey Talk

I hope everyone had a lovely Thanksgiving. There is so much to be thankful for this year. Friends, family, and beloved pets made it all worthwhile. I'm grateful to have a job that allows me to do good. I'm looking forward to holiday celebrations for the first time in more than a decade. I might even get a tree this year.

My sister and brother-in-law hosted a delicious dinner their home near Milwaukee, WI. We watched football and then A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving. I got to snuggle with the nephews, learn more about Thomas the Train, and read books about farts.

Exploring my sister's garden was a treat. The lettuces and Swiss chard are still intact as are most of the herbs. The trees seem so much taller and more numerous in the north. The nearby lake is amazing. The light shocked me the most. By 4:45 in the afternoon, it is as dark as midnight. Most of all, I got to spend time talking to my sister and helping in the kitchen. She's such a good friend, and having her at such distance is a real sadness for me.

Just when I thought it might be okay to go back to Wal-Mart, I heard another sickening story about Wal-Mart pricing practices that are making it difficult for their suppliers to stay in business. So my opinion that Wal-Mart creates poverty was reinforced for the millionth time. If I do buy a tree, it won't be from there.

In unrelated news, my darling kitties were well-cared for by a friend and her daughter. I suspect they were even spoiled. Murphy the Beagle stayed at Mom and Dad's house. Mom laid out some strict rules at the beginning: no dogs on the furniture or bed. Dad reports that by the end of the week, Murphy was not only sleeping on the bed, but his head was on the pillow between Mom and Dad. He sat on the couch with them while they watched movies. Even though they were in good hands, I missed the fuzzy ones something fierce and was happy to see them again. They even let me hug them more than usual when I got back.

No more holes in the wall!

Nearly a year ago, I set about the systematic destruction of my home. Destruction wasn't my goal. The idea was to remove a little wallpaper and put up paint. However, the removal of wallpaper revealed problems that had never been addressed. Some of those issues dated back to the 1930s.

I did enjoy the trip through the layers of wallpaper. Some homeowners preferred paisley and others liked cabbage roses. It was an introduction to them. Most preferred pinks and greens with an occasional touch of silver or gold. The large hole in the wall and the hidden, closet-like room were definitely a surprise.

The sheet rock contractor is an old friend of Dad's. Dad was acting as project manager for questions while I was at work. Murphy the Wonder Beagle stayed with my parents during the renovations. Murphy has been known to zip out the door at the slightest opportunity. I just didn't trust him to behave for strangers. Dad was happy with the situation too since he has wanted a dog for years. He and Murphy went to the hobby shop together, built model airplanes, took naps together and surfed the internet.

A phone call from the contractors to inquire whether I had a black and white dog was quite a surprise. Upon hearing the answer, "No," they said, "Okay, we'll put him outside."

When the contractors arrived to put up sheet rock this week, I came home from work each night to a house that looked progressively more normal. As of today, the walls are ready for paint. The ceilings have sheet rock of the same thickness throughout the house. It even smells new. Not only did they do a great job, but I have the same number of pets at the end as at the beginning of the project.

Knitting and naught

Undoing work goes against my personal credos: 1) it is possible to overthink something; and, 2) just keep knitting. The ruana I'm knitting is officially back to the beginning. This project isn't difficult; however, I haven't knitted much lately and it is a gift. Last week, some of the rows looked odd, and I ripped back several inches. Yesterday, some stitches were off near the beginning. I happened to be a Twist and used the ball winder to frog back to the beginning. It was so much more tidy than winding the ball myself -- almost magical. Today finds the garter stitch border back in place, and the stitches looking quite well-behaved. Deadline: Christmas.

The lack of productivity today was so blissful. Norah, the cat who hid in the basement to avoid the dog all spring and summer, keeps spending more time out in the open. After lunch she climbed in my lap and fell asleep. This hasn't happened since April, and I've really missed it. First I was enjoying it, and then I awakened two hours later with an additional cat and a dog snoring with us. Perhaps moments like this bring me so much pleasure because I prefer to think of myself as a big mammal rather than a human.

The pansies are finally planted with assistance from Murphy the Beagle. Plants look much happier in the ground. I'm not sure what the scientific measure of a happy plant might be, but they perk up, look more erect and sturdy. If the first freeze comes tonight or the big rains, the garden will be ready.

Plans for this evening are leftovers: baked potato, meatloaf, and broccoli. They will be eaten while watching the second half of a documentary about Derrida, called, Derrida. When I stopped watching yesterday, he'd just managed to wriggle out of a question about why philosophers have always pondered love -- he said there was nothing to original to say. The interviewer allowed a graceful change of subject by asking about Plato's interpretation of love. I'd like to think there is something new to say about love, but I haven't managed to disprove this brilliant French man.

Further Observations on Poop

Murphy and I headed back to obedience training this week. Last week I stayed home because my nose was throwing its annual snot fiesta and couldn't be bothered to stop for matters such as dog training. Much like previous weeks, we learned that I am not dominant and the dog doesn't listen. Plus we didn't practice at all because I was in bed due to the aforementioned snot festivities. Scatology was the least of my worries because my nose was out of commission.

At training class, the other owners are so diligent with their dogs. They practice and the dogs listen to them. I've tried chatting with the other owners, but they like to keep their distance. Really, I want to pet the dogs. I'm enchanted with a Cairn terrier who is bright and perky. Another dog looks just like Lady from Lady and the Tramp. I'm not quite on the same wave length as everyone else. They aren't rude -- just very distant. Maybe they're afraid their dogs will act like mine if we fraternize, or maybe they don't find me as amusing as I find myself.

Meanwhile, Murphy's learning how to "park it" on his bed. It was excruciating. The other dog owners were able to have their dogs stay while they walked out of sight. Murphy wouldn't even stay while I was standing next to him. About 15 minutes later, I was flushed, frustrated, and flustered. Someone else's dog pooped, and it was a relief that the instructor was distracted from the distinct lack of obedience I was experiencing. My dog might be out playing Calvin ball for the entire class, but at least he didn't poop in the middle of Pet Smart.

After quietly congratulating myself on not being The Worst, I turned around and the stubborn Beagle had his front paws and his back paws together so he could squat. It was suspiciously like pooping but I dragged him outside before anything happened. I bumped into the other offender and his owner outside the store on a strip of grass. "Stimulating class, huh?" I said. She looked over her shoulder and hurried her dog into the store.

Comfort Food

With the cooler weather, my interest in cooking has increased. This weekend found me digging through cookbooks and hand-written recipes for old favorites that my mother and grandmother cooked: shrimp-rice casserole; sausage, beans, and greens soup; meatloaf. The food tastes wonderful with the crisp temperatures.

The recipes fuel my nostalgia and imagination. Recipe cards in my grandmother's handwriting often have the note "from Mama" at the top. I never met my great-grandmother, but I've heard some stories. She was a spicy, opinionated woman with a good education, but above all, she was practical. She would have found my kitchen ridiculous with the electric stove, the microwave, and the refrigerator. She kept her ice box until the last ice-delivery service stopped in the 1960s and was never fully convinced that a refrigerator and freezer could be trusted to keep the food from spoiling. I like to imagine that I know her a little because of her recipes.

All about the eggs

The autumnal sinus joy has descended along with snot and coughing. People pull out hand sanitizer when they see me coming. I try to keep a respectful distance.

Really this is to explain why Murphy and I were walking down an alley. He needed a walk badly and showed signs of becoming a wild animal without more exercise. I made it a block and a half before I broke into a cold sweat. For a shortcut, we turned down an alley, which all dogs love. It must be some kind of super highway for cats, squirrels, possums, and other dog delicacies. Murphy snorted, sniffled, and made grunting pig-like noises of joy at all of the scents. The yards were surprisingly dog-free, and our little trek was quiet until near the end.

I was startled by a large black dog that jumped up and down behind a fence. In the yard with the dog were six chickens. Six, lovely, free-range hens that all live within a block of my house. I wonder if they would like to share some eggs?

Poop

Sometimes a day has a secret word -- kind of like at Pee Wee's playhouse. Saturday's word was poop. The dog smelled like poop that morning, which made giving him a bath essential. My parents visited later that morning to scoop the kitty litter.

It was good to see Mom and Dad. Dad even helped me rehabilitate a futon that wouldn't fold into sitting position because a toy mouse was jammed into the folding mechanism. One special pair of pliers and a clothes hanger later, he had extracted two toy mice and one pair of nail clippers. Some poor cat lost some stash. I was glad to see the nail clippers again.

Back to the poop. In the afternoon, it was time for a regularly scheduled cut and color. My hairdresser has been cutting my hair for over ten years. She's good at haircuts and good at conversation. I look forward to seeing her.

During the drive to the salon, I simply couldn't shake the smell of poop and finally looked at the soles of my shoes. Bingo! I'd stepped in something intense with both feet. It refused to be scraped off as well, so I parked the shoes outside the salon door. It is very humbling to be barefoot for 3 hours while fashionable and well-shod people are near. The hairdresser enjoyed every minute of it.

Homegrown tomatoes

The Ex and I met for coffee today. A year ago, I wouldn't have believed it possible, but we're friends. I enjoy that. We've got over a decade of shared history and talking to each other doesn't require the long story or any footnotes. Plus we're both happier now -- partly because we don't have any expectations from each other. I'm amazed at how important that is to me.

Saying that a person has changed seems silly to me. The Ex is very much who he always was, but he's grown personally. He's paving the way to really accomplish what he wants in his life, and I'm tickled to see how well it suits him. He's just as talented at gabbing as I am, so after two hours of catching up, he sent me home with a bag of homegrown tomatoes. Yum! I warmed them up with some sauteed onions and served it over lentils and rice.

In knitting news, the ruana I'm making for my sister will obviously be a Christmas present. The Addi Turbo needles and the nice wool make for good knitting, but that's quite a few yards of knitting in one week.

Ideas to Inspire Fear

These are dangerous times for me. I'm off my game, and the predictable patterns are changing. I pay someone to mow the lawn, which is crazy because I love to mow the lawn -- it just hasn't worked out to be a possibility this summer. I spent yesterday evening hanging out with a bunch of dogs instead of listening to the President's speech on health care. But worst of all, my knitting mojo packed up and left town sometime in the summer.

I've been half-heartedly knitting one pink, white, and green sock. The pattern is the I-made-it-up-variety. Sadly it also belongs to the undocumented category, so it will never have a mate. Recreating it isn't a possibility. The fact that the sad little sock has been in my purse for months and gets knitted about 20 minutes a week borders on Kafkaesque. Right now I'm trying to decide whether I should finish it or if I should put it out of its misery sooner.

Meanwhile inspiration struck. Inspiration with a deadline. (Danger! Deadline!) My sister's birthday arrives in less than a week, and Ravelry has a lovely pattern for "The One Piece Backwards Ruana". The perfect teal, worsted weight Lamb's Pride wool is in my stash. Do I cast on? What if it is post marked on her birthday? She lives out of state so that adds several days in the mail. On paper the timing looks like an ill-fated plan. My fingers are itching. I thought about the project while I was a work. Even if I can finish in a timely fashion by, perhaps, Monday, I'm liable to be incapacitated by knitter's claw. Awww, who am I kidding? It's a terrific plan. I'll cast on.

More about eggs and a doggy update

I may be a little obsessed with those fresh eggs. They taste really good. A coworker said she knows someone who works in our building that sells her eggs. I've got a fresh egg dealer for when the Farmers' Market closes.

Murphy the Wonder Beagle headed back to school this evening for intermediate obedience training. As a 5+ year old dog, he reminded me of myself when I went back to college for computer training in my late 20s. I couldn't abide by chatter in the back of the class room and tedious questions were just annoying. For his part, Murphy will touch noses with the pups but if they wiggle or get excited, he is very sharp with them.

Perhaps he was just focusing on the teacher. He did everything she asked very well. He completely ignored me and wouldn't even look at me. I was starting to get offended until the teacher pointed out that he just didn't like my treats. Apparently the beef liver treats that were all the rage in June are passe in September. The new trend is chicken something or other. And because he's an older dog, he fell asleep in the car on the way home. The dog whisperer is right. A tired dog is a good dog.

Farmer's Market

Each Saturday in the summer the Farmers' Market at 21st and Ridge is open. They have mountains of tomatoes and zucchini this time of year. One person was even selling kohl rabi, which I found very exciting. Without a clear idea of how to cook it, I left it to a more sophisticated cook.

Mostly I enjoy looking and seeing other people who are also enjoying a Saturday morning outside. Rows and rows of fresh herbs and produce combined with home-grown bouquets of zinnias, sunflowers, and Queen Anne's lace are so beautiful.

I haven't purchased any meat yet, but it is tempting. They have local grass-fed, grass-finished beef which has completely eluded me at local groceries and health food stores. No offense to Argentina, but that's a long way from here. Kansas has good beef too. When I make to South America, I'll be delighted to eat the Argentinian beef. The emu doesn't hold any attraction for me, but the bison and lamb are tempting.

The real attraction has been the eggs. The eggs from free-range, cage-free hens that have been scratching around in the pasture all summer are delicious. They have the bright orange-yellow yolks of summer time eggs. Hard-boiled, served with a slice of buttered toast and slices of tomato, they make a very satisfying breakfast. I'm already feeling sad that the Farmer's Market will close at the end of October. I'm not quite ready to start raising chickens myself.

Eating Decisions

A couple of books about consumption have me thinking about how buying patterns influence the way we eat and the dietary importance of fresh fruits and vegetables. Also the fruit flies from the last forgotten banana last week have me thinking about intentional patterns of consumption and whether they offer improvements. Some of the things I like most about these lifestyles is that they provide some order and remove some of the chaos. Other times I wonder whether is even worth the hassle. Maybe these systems are too rigid for me to sustain.

Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver started me thinking about seasonal patterns of eating. She talks about eating food that comes from within a 50 mile radius and she grows a great deal of her own food. The logic is that our carbon footprint is greatly reduced by not requiring shipping and refrigeration of items. It also addresses concerns about the state of the food supply and our health. Eating lettuce in Kansas in December is a biological astonishment, but all of our out-of-state and out-of-country suppliers certainly make it seem very reasonable. While this is the abundant season of corn, cantaloupes, and fresh tomatoes, December should be more oriented toward root vegetables and items with a long shelf-life.

Meanwhile, a book review of America's Cheapest Family Gets You Right on the Money came to my attention yesterday. The authors suggest that because 6 out of 10 consumers in the grocery store make impulse purchases, meal planning and one monthly trip to the grocery store are the ideal solution. They too must make allowances for perishables. Bananas, lettuce, and other easily spoiled items are eaten in the first week. Carrots and apples are eaten during the last week of the month. They are able to feed a family of seven for less than $400 a month.

Impromptu Summer Evening

The tomatoes were planted late. So while I've been waiting and waiting for a blossom and hope of fruit, I made an impromptu veggie scrambled.

Sautee garlic, asparagus, and bell pepper. Pour scrambled eggs over the mixture and sprinkle with shredded pepper jack cheese.

It isn't quite the same as warm tomatoes from the garden that are sliced over cold cottage cheese, but it was a very nice substitute.