UFO Update

Having recovered from a nasty bug (read "talked top Ralph on big white phone"), I can update you on what I have done the past week or so. I have finished 3 of my UFOs: Emiliano's baby blanket, the SWS socks for Bob and the Prarie Sky Scarf for Macuwita Sni. I also found some baby socks that I was working on and have been trying to finish them up as well. Of course I went out and bought more yarn so I sort of defeated my purpose!

Power Suits

Fox News is reporting that researchers are developing electricity generating clothing http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,330615,00.html . Like this is a new concept. Just give me a pair of courderoy slacks and my thighs rubbing together would create enough friction energy to power a small farming co-operative in Latvia!

One down....

I have finished my first project off the UFO list: Emiliano's baby blanket. Glad to be done too. The needle size and the yarn combine to make it painfull on my hands to knit. My right hand is still a little sore. It looks really cute though!

I hate Extreme Makeover Home Edition

I hate Extreme Makeover Home Edition. Every week when I turn it on, the tears begin to flow. Last night’s episode was especially hard to watch. It was about a Marine who was a single father of 4 kids all under the age of 10. He had served 2 tours in Iraq and on the last tour lost his leg. His wife left him 1 year later. His home was multilevel and it was awkward for him to get around on one leg and in a wheelchair. He was still active; running and doing martial arts, and was also great at motivational speaking with other injured soldiers and marines in the hospital about what to expect when dealing with traumatic injuries and their aftermath.



This is the family bio from the EMHE website. (Note, people there is a big difference between soldiers and Marines!):

"Daniel Gilyeat is a decorated U.S. marine and a loving father to his children, having served not one but two tours in Iraq. During the second tour he volunteered for, he was out on a mission when a bomb hit his truck. He suffered major injuries and lost his left leg above the knee. In addition, his marriage ended and he suddenly became a single father. As with many soldiers, deployment had put a huge stress on his marriage. But despite these setbacks and personal battles, 25 days after losing his leg, Daniel was up and walking with a prosthetic leg, and inspiring other wounded soldiers by visiting them in the hospital and speaking with their families. He tries to create a normal environment for his children and to take proper care of them, but household chores are difficult because the house is not handicapped accessible; it's nearly impossible for him to get around, as all the floors are uneven and the doors are very narrow -- he often has to rely on a wheelchair. What's more, the laundry is in the basement. Daniel's trying to rebuild his life, and one of the things he desperately needs is a safe home where he can raise his kids"


When they came to his home this big tough marine had tears of gratefulness in his eyes. The community and his Marine brothers all turned out to aid in the building. I cried as I watched his Marine brothers take down his flags and fold them reverently and then carry off the old flagpole like a fallen comrade. They were their in their dress blues when he came home (on Marine Corps birthday no less) to his new home and big new flagpole. Some of the marines present were the ones who were with him in the convoy when he lost his leg. One of them, the one who tied the tourniquet around his leg stepped forward to great him and the 2 big tough guys just stood there hugging and crying. I get emotional just recalling the scene.

Marines are pretty incredible men. I have the pleasure and honor of having several Marines as friends, relative and I even married one. They are fiercely loyal to their beloved Corps and Country. They are not perfect but they would give the shirt off their back or even their very lives to one of their brother marines. I would rather have 1 marine at my back than a hundred soldiers.

P.S. I wonder how many women are calling this guy after seeing him on that episode?

King of the Remote

Last night we sat down to watch "40 Year Old Virgin". Hubby put the disc in the dvd player sat on the couch and pointed the remote at the dvd player and that's when the trouble started. Nothing happened. He tried again. Still nothing. Tried stepping closer to the dvd player, still nothing. Started to get upset. Struggled to open the back of the remote to check the batteries. Went on a quest to find double A batteries while yelling that we need to add them to the list. Grumble grumble grumble. "How are we going to watch a movie now?" I calmly walk over and press "play". Silence. Score one for womankind.

UFOs Sighted Everywhere!

I thought I would start a list of UFO's so I could prioritize what to work on. I didn't realize how many are hidng in the house.

1.La Perla Bebe Gnome Hat














2. Emiliano’s baby blanket
3. Kayla’s hat and scarf
4. Mom’s scarf
5. SWS socks








6. Coal fire socks














7. Cabled hat & scarf
8. Blocks Baby Blanket
9. School Spirit Scarf














10. Prairie Sky Scarf
11. Cottage Socks

And this is just what I have found so far!

My husband came in the bedroom last night and casually noted "there seems to be yarn everywhere I look". Not true. There is no yarn in the fridge! I found a skein in the bathroom. there are 2 in the kitchen. A lot are stashed in nooks and crannies in the living room, bedroom and studio. Bags in the den. I like to think that this is just adding to the insulation in the house and saving on our energy bills. (I will continnue to delude myself in this manner. I am my own enabler)

Up in the sky! Its a bird! Its a Plane. Its...THE SUN!

YAY! The sun is shining! I had almost forgotten what it looked like! Even with the sun out, there is still a chill in the air and a brisk breeze to boot.

I have finally decided I can face the baby blanket I am making for Eli's son. I made a boo boo on it and couldn't face it for months. Well, now I have frogged back to where I screwed up and fixed the problem. I can move on and maybe finish it before his 1 year birthday in May.

I have been in the mood to finish projects that have been languishing and to work through some of my stash. I intend to take advantage of this mood for as long as it lasts! I am also slowly working my way through the craft room to redo things in there. (So many projects, so little time)

Silent Poetry Reading

In honor of the Feast of St Brigid, many bloggers are doing a silent poetry reading by posting a favorite poem on line. The follwing is one of my favorites. To truely enjoy it, you should listen to Loreena McKennitt sing it on her album The Book of Secrets http://www.quinlanroad.com/shopping/audio.asp?id=123.

The Highwayman
By Alfred Noyes
Part One
I
The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight, over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding-
Riding-riding-
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.
II
He'd a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin;
They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh!
And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,
His pistol butts a-twinkle,
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.
III
Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,
And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred;
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
IV
And dark in the old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim the ostler listened; his face was white and peaked;
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,
But he loved the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's red-lipped daughter,
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say-
V
"One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize to-night,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way."
VI
He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand,
But she loosened her hair i' the casement! His face burnt like a brand
As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,
(Oh, sweet black waves in the moonlight!)
Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away to the West.
Part Two
I
He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon;
And out o' the tawny sunset, before the rise o' the moon,
When the road was a gipsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor,
A red-coat troop came marching-
Marching-marching-
King George's men came marching, up to the old inn-door.
II
They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead,
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed;
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side!
There was death at every window;
And hell at one dark window;
For Bess could see, through the casement, the road that he would ride.
III
They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest;
They bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!
"Now keep good watch!" and they kissed her.
She heard the dead man say-
Look for me by moonlight;
Watch for me by moonlight;
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!
IV
She twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till here fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like
years,
Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,
Cold, on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!
V
The tip of one finger touched it; she strove no more for the rest!
Up, she stood up to attention, with the barrel beneath her breast,
She would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again;
For the road lay bare in the moonlight;
Blank and bare in the moonlight;
And the blood of her veins in the moonlight throbbed to her love's refrain.
VI
Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hoofs
ringing clear;
Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were they deaf that they did
not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding,
Riding, riding!
The red-coats looked to their priming! She stood up strait and still!
VII
Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night
!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight,
Her musket shattered the moonlight,
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him-with her death.
VIII
He turned; he spurred to the West; he did not know who stood
Bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched with her own red blood!
Not till the dawn he heard it, his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.
IX
Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were his spurs i' the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat,
When they shot him down on the highway,
Down like a dog on the highway,
And he lay in his blood on the highway, with a bunch of lace at his throat.
* * * * * *
X
And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
A highwayman comes riding-
Riding-riding-
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.
XI
Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard,
And he taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred;
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.