Monday, September 1, 2014

dyeing around

We accomplished the second leg of Primo's college installation on Saturday. Considering the first trip consisted of a bare minimum of possessions...

The second trip required a bit more stuff, plus his bike. Thank goodness he is so close because we have one more trip to make.

The Rutgers crate is a vintage family heirloom from my first year. Hopefully it won't be spray painted Princeton orange at some point during his time there.

It does finally feel like he is gone, especially because I won't be able to make the third trip this weekend. When I had the prospect of seeing him in a week, he didn't seem that far away. Now I don't know the next time I'll be seeing him, his departure feels a bit more permanent.

I'll be at the NJ Sheep and Wool Festival this weekend instead, so I have been dyeing up a storm in the turkey roaster.

This was one of my favorites...

Until I dyed these two. I'm going to have to force myself to leave the turkey roaster alone and get some other items ready to sell but it's going to be tough. 

Friday, August 29, 2014

moments like these

Contrary to appearances, I haven't been sitting by the window mourning the absence of one of my children. Actually, we have been in touch more the last week than the previous month, mostly due to him running into issues here and there that required either assistance (bank account suspended) or input (locked himself out of his room).

No, if Monday taught me anything, it drive home with a sledgehammer that these days are fleeting and it's critical to pay attention to the important things and not all the flotsam and jetsam crap. So Wednesday was spent here, with my younger two plus friends and relations:

And Thursday was spent here, with my husband as well:

Today I had to work in my husband's office. Our car has been in the shop all week. When we picked it up last night, Terzo got in the car, spied a paper on the floor, and said, "Oh yeah! I forgot! I was supposed to go to the middle school to practice opening my locker with the combination this week. Can we do that? I don't know how to open a locker! I don't even know how to find my locker!"

This was the last day to do it.

Now, we all know that if it had been my first born, I would have already accomplished the task this week, all planned out in advance with a special lunch included. No way could I tell this kid it was impossible, because I was tied to the phone in his dad's office all day. 

We shut the office down for an hour. It wasn't exactly a planned special event complete with lunch...

But at the end of it, he knew the location of his locker, the combination, and how to use it.

Mission accomplished, even if the bar was practically on the ground. I ignored all the moms there with special decorations to outfit the inside of the lockers. He can get into the dang thing! In keeping with the rest of the week, I am maintaining focus on what really matters.

Monday, August 25, 2014

to my college freshman

"I am getting these shoes. What do you think?"

We are on a shopping trip with your grandmother, who wants to buy you and your brothers each a new pair of shoes for the school year. I know she wants to do this with you, a special time to share, so I have deliberately stayed out of the way. I stepped into the store for just a moment to see how it is going.

"Nice," I answer.

"You don't like them," you snap, and start to return the box to the shelf.

"No, I do," I protest. "They're good. Get them if they are what you want." I excuse myself again, and return to my post outside the store.

We have been engaged in this uncomfortable dance for some time, you and I. I want to protect you from the harder edges of the world; you want me to stop obscuring the view, plus pay for a better seat. My attempts at conversation prompt you to beat a hasty retreat to the solitude of your bedroom, though you emerge from time to time to demand answers to unknowable questions: How many good shirts should you take? Where are all your black socks? Will you need more compression shorts for football practice?

If I have an opinion, I don't know what I am talking about. If I admit I don't know (because honestly, I barely know how to play football, let alone what equipment may be required), you get upset at my perceived lack of responsiveness.

You woke up very early this morning, your last morning at home before you left for college today, unable to sleep from excitement or nerves or a combination of both. I was finishing a baby hat for your boss's new daughter, reflecting on how it had been both a lifetime and a blink of an eye since your head was that tiny. I tried, and failed, once again to communicate my love and fear and happiness and worry for you. It came out as a lecture, my default mode these days. You rolled your eyes, told me I had no idea what I was talking about, stomped out of the room, then took my advice anyway.

I reminded myself again how nervous and irritable and scared I was when I left for college. I realized I am feeling just about the same with you about to go.

Calm descended as the hour approached for you to leave. The process became more of a collaboration and less of a battle. You worked away on various last-minute tasks while I poured my heart into a letter to you, full of everything that I have tried, and mostly failed, to say in the last hours and days and months and years. The letter is waiting for you to find in one of your boxes, whenever you unpack once you move to your permanent dorm.

We spent a few last hours together as a family, then we left you all alone, because you moved onto the campus early for football camp and your assigned roommate hadn't arrived yet. The excitement and the nerves were both still evident, but mostly just excitement.

I am excited for you. I am happy for you. Of course, I am a little worried about you, because that has always been and will always be my job. And I will be missing the heck out of you until we see you next weekend.

Preschool project, complete with fingerprints, that hangs on my office wall.
The sentiment has never been truer than today.

Saturday, August 23, 2014

big news on the barn

Due to fair and vacation and other pressing engagements, the barn project has been on a bit of a hiatus for the month of August. But yesterday, Secondo, Terzo, my father and I made some significant progress.

And today, I am thrilled to report that another side, including the dreaded peak and tricky door, is FINISHED!!!

We made significant progress on the third side, too, so all that is left is the dreaded peak and tricky door on that side. We estimate two, maybe three, more days should do it. So thrilling to have the end in sight.

Birds-eye view of the dog, waiting patiently, as ever, for us to finish this project already.

Thursday, August 21, 2014

cooker karma

The younger boys and I haven't had too much adventure this summer. Secondo is usually working or at cross country practice, and any spare minute I get at home, I am frantically trying (and failing) to catch up with the backlog of work. A few days ago, I had some errands to run, so we decided to combine it with a few fun things as well.

First up: the thrift store. The adventure bar is set very low around here. We haven't been in ages, and we used to get there at least every other month. Secondo was on a work clothes mission, and I was trying to find supplies for my farm booth. My particular goal was a turkey roaster oven, the kind with the temperature control that works like a giant crock pot. My crock pot bit the dust just before Maryland, and it was way too small anyway. Too much work for too little result! I have one on loan from Robin but even that one was a little restricted. I needed to pull out the big guns.

Amazingly enough: this one was on the shelf, in excellent condition with every part present. It didn't appear that it had ever been used. The price was a problem though. $25 for a used one? I may as well buy one new! I walked away for a minute, to think about it, but started to second-guess myself almost immediately. I am forever penny-wise and pound-foolish. What I needed was on the shelf. Why not just buy it?

I walked back and started to pick it up, then heard an employee behind me.

"Looks like someone beat you to it."

I turned, and found him talking to an older woman next to him. She looked disappointed. "It's the price, you see. I was just asking someone if they could lower it a bit, because the one just broke at the group home where I work, and we don't have any stoves to cook on."

I know when I'm beat. Any wool that I would have tried to dye in that cooker would have immediately discolored and felted to boot. I handed it over, with a smile. Always good to be gracious in defeat.

The next morning, I took a quick look on Craigslist. Two older local listings popped up, one for $10 and one for $20. I e-mailed them both, to see if either was available. The $10 got back to me immediately and I made arrangements to pick it up later that day. Soon after, an e-mail came through from the owner of the $20 cooker. She was leaving town for three weeks, but if I could wait until her return, she would sell it to me for $15.

And that's how I ended up with two used cookers for the price of one. Cooker karma.

Tuesday, August 19, 2014

cat obsession

Valentine is a funny little cat. She doesn't like to be held or cuddled too much, and she has very definite ideas about how much is too much. My husband and Secondo are her clear favorites and she seeks out, and tolerates, attention from them more than anyone else.

She is not too fond of the dog, especially because he has taken it upon himself to enforce the rules of the house as he perceives them, i.e., no scratching on the furniture and no cats on the table. She does love to bat at his tail as he goes by, which he pretends to ignore.

She is fascinated by but terrified of the rabbit. I will have to get a picture of them together sometime, with her seeking out contact but backing away from him at the same time. They got into a cage match in his digs in the basement a few weeks ago after she jumped in. We weren't sure at first who was the victor, but now we know: it was clearly Oreo.

She loves carrying around things in her mouth, especially things she brings up from the basement. Fleece, roving, my bras, socks... everything is fair game.

This represents a few of her favorite things, all together: wool cat toys, dryer balls, and the knee-highs I use to make them. She brings each of these things up on a regular basis. When I started production recently for the fiber festivals this fall? Her idea of nirvana, because now she could bring all three up at the same time if I leave them unattended. One night she was so persistent in bringing them up to our room that I had to go downstairs at 3 am to lock them all away in a tin where she couldn't get to them.

But her very, very favorite thing? Lamb jackets.

Unfortunately I have not been able to capture her on camera with one. She is pretending to ignore this one which she just deposited it in the middle of the room. Dusty would like to point out that he had nothing to do with it.

They are clean, at least according to our human standards, but they must have an irresistible lamby scent still about them because she finds them wherever I hide them and drags them upstairs. Her favorite maneuver is to bring them into our bed at 2 am, growling and mewling the entire time, and drop it on the pillow between us. I will admit that the first time she dropped a large, dark, fuzzy thing in the middle of our bed, I freaked out a little. I feel this was more than a little justified but my husband is still chuckling.

Edited to add: the minute I hit "publish" on this post, she meowed behind me, and I turned to find her dragging a lamb jacket into the middle of the room. I grabbed my iphone and hit the camera button, but it was too late... She was already claiming ignorance of how it got there.

Thursday, August 14, 2014

with help like this

Blocking has become a difficult business around here, ever since mid-February or so...

Pins tend not to stay where they were placed. I am lucky if the piece manages to dry before she gets to work.

She usually spits them out next to where she removes them, but not always. One or two are usually carried down the hall to be placed where they have the maximum likelihood of being stepped on.

Some pins are tougher to remove than others. I should be grateful for the help.