By midnight I will no longer have the adventures of Harry Potter, the 2007 Tour de France or the weekend to look forward to.

Designs that fail, part 2

Remember the evil eye hat? I remade it with trees. I feel the hat has suffered in the process. I look at the hat and my overall impression is "meh." If you squint, the design resembles evergreens as seen on a winter's day through a snowstorm. If you squint really hard you'll see sparkles. This means you are squinting too hard and should stop now.





I've worked this design before, much more successfully. For some reason it just doesn't thrill me here. I do like the two-tone curlicue at the top- I'll use that again. I was hoping to enter this in the Montgomery County Fair but I probably won't. Unfortunately, this means I'll have to crochet a replacement, in addition to finishing the pullover I'm working on.

The fair countdown begins!

Not dead yet

The goldfish Rainbow is doing poorly. Rainbow is our last surviving pet. Kiah the cat passed on this winter, a victim of polycystic kidney disease. We got a lovely note from the vet staff on his passing. I am continually amazed at the kindness of vets.

Rainbow and her (his?) sister (brother?) Rosie (I'm not a goldfish sexer) were county fair goldfish. You know, the ones you win by tossing a ping-pong ball into a glass? I hate those games. Those poor fish sitting around all day in the hot sun, cooped up in tiny plastic bags. Ninety percent of the fish taken home don't make it through the next day.

Rosie and Rainbow both beat the odds. We upgraded them to a spacious 10 gallon fishy condo with neon pink gravel, plants, a heater, a oxygenating fountain, and a light. The tank is tastefully bare. I really wanted to get one of those fake treasure chests that blows bubbles when it opens. I was overruled. Brewguy changed the water and the Little Brewers fed them. So much and no more, never more than a spot. By all accounts, Rosie and Rainbow loved their new home. They chewed the plants to oblivion, chased each other around the tank, and gazed at us through the glass as we gazed at them.

Rosie died a few months ago. Quite suddenly. S/he was found floating upside down in the morning and was buried in the garden next to the hosta. Then, a couple of weeks ago, Rainbow started swimming sideways. "Uh oh," I thought to myself. "This can't be good." Rainbow was spending more and more time at the top of the tank, on her* side, as though she was stuck to the surface. Uneaten food began to drift around the bottom (I've never known a goldfish to leave food lying around so I took this as a bad sign). When we would walk past she would flip away as if startled, but eventually she would float back to the top.

We all came to grips with the seemingly unassailable fact that Rainbow was about to pass on, said our goodbyes, and left for the beach, fully intending to find an ex-fish when we returned. That was a week ago. Rainbow is still with us. She is spending less time on her side, although there is still quite a bit of side-hanging going on.

Here is the dilemma: what do we do? Will Rainbow recover or is this just the long road to the end? Is the fish suffering in its current state? (Not to sound heartless, but I am not going to take a county fair goldfish to the vet. That money goes to the college fund. I'm already hyperventilating over the projected cost.)

So we are playing the waiting game. The water is changed, the fish is fed, and we gaze at each other through the glass. And every morning we say to each other, "I'm not dead yet."

*Little Brewer #1 insists Rainbow is a girl, so I'm going with it.

Island girl

We took the little brewers on their first camping adventure last weekend to one of my favorite spots in the world, Assateague Island. Sun! Sand! Tents!

Wild ponies!

Bugs! Fiberglass sharks!


In the past, it was easy to get a campsite. Brewguy and I would pack ourselves up and head out across the Bay Bridge Friday night, arriving at the island around 3am. Once there we'd sleep in the car until daybreak, hanging on the beach until the campsite lottery at 11am.

Now you can reserve campsites online in advance. We went online in February for July dates. There were no campsites available for more than two nights in a row. This was in February. Fortunately, once we arrived, we found single night spots. Unfortunately, that meant we had to move the campsite every night. Let me tell you, unpacking and packing gets really old fast.

Brewguy's great idea was to simply pick up the tents and walk them to the next campsite. I was somewhat more skeptical, mostly because carrying a large, fully constructed tent across the campground was way too close to the Beverly Hillbillies for my taste. In addition, like most great ideas, this one had a fatal flaw: wind. A fully contructed tent acts as a sail.

Observe:

We gave up on the tent moving and setting for moving the screen house. Campers are a laid-back lot. Upon observing us hauling the screen house, one remarked "moving day?" Gotta love these folks. I did attempt to knit but after constant interruptions for "Mommy, look over there!" and "Mommy, I'm hungry," and "Ew, horse poop!" I surrendered and started reading 1776 instead.

Things learned at the beach:

• Brewgal needs to reapply her SPF-50 during the day or she will burn in uncomfortable places.


• Food cooked on the campstove tastes much better than at home.


• Live mole crabs are cute but dead, disembowled ones are not.


• Mosquitos piss me off. I mean, really. What is the purpose of mosquitos?


• Our tent is indeed waterproof, thank goodness.


• Seagulls (those flying rat bastards) can do an amazing impression of a small child yelling "HEY!"

The Metro Vest

It seems like it has been forever since I've finished anything. Besides crocheted hats for small babies, that is. Althought I certainly do not begrudge the newborn their haberdashery, I felt it was time to make myself a little something. Et voila! An honest-to-goodness finished item. I saw a blue version of this vest about two months ago on a woman riding the Metro. She was across the platform from me at Metro Station. I thought to myself, "Self, I WANT that!" So I designed my own.




It's a low-cut front, racer back vest. It doesn't seem like much on the hanger, but I think it looks great on.







Here's a shot of the back. Sorry about the bathroom clutter.






I didn't measure. I tried out a few stitch patterns until I found one I liked. The 2x2 rib is cute and has a lot of stretch to it. I used one of my old tank tops as a guide for the racer back. I just laid the piece down on the tank and guessed at the shaping. Brewgal is rather slight in the bust (36") and long in the torso, so take these instructions for what they are.


Here is the pattern I worked out.


Yarn: 3 1/2 skeins Plymouth Encore Colorspun DK (wool/acrylic blend)

Needles: size 6 straights

Crochet hook: approximately size F (Wouldn't you know it, I chose the one hook in the house that isn't size labeled. It claims to be non-inflammable, which means it could burst into flames at any moment.)

Finished measurements:

Shoulder to waist = 24 inches

Armhole to waist = 15 inches

Bottom of neckline to waist = 14 inches

Width = 8 3/4 inches (I relied on the stretchy nature of the 2x2 rib)

Back:

Cast on 70

First row: knit

Second and succeeding rows: 2 x 2 rib (knit 2, purl 2 to end)

Work in 2x2 rib until armholes



Armhole shaping (back)

Bind off 2 sts at beginning of every other row for 4 rows (this is the outside edge of the piece)

Bind off 1 st at beginning of every other row for 8 rows

Work in pattern for 26 rows



Neck shaping (back)

Work 20 sts in pattern

Bind off 14

Place remaining sts on holder



Work 1 row

Bind off 2 sts at beginning of 1 row (inside edge)

Work 1 row

Bind off 1 st at beginning of every other row for 4 rows.

You should have 14 sts remaining on needle. Work in pattern for 2 more rows, bind off all sts.


Join new yarn to stitches on holder. Repeat shaping for other side.



Front

Cast on 70.

First row: knit

Second and succeeding rows: 2 x 2 rib (knit 2, purl 2 to end)
Work in 2x2 rib until you want to start neck shaping.

You'll be shaping the neck and armholes at the same time.



Neck and armhole shaping (front)

Work 26 sts in pattern

Bind off 18

Place remaining sts on holder.



Work 1 row in pattern

Bind off 2 sts at beginning of 2 rows (this is the inside edge of the neck)

Work in pattern until armhole

Bind off 2 sts at beginning of every other row for 2 rows (this is the outside edge of the armhole)

Bind off 1 st at beginning of every other row for 4 rows. You should have 14 sts on needle.

Work straight until piece is same length as back. For me, this was 40 rows. Bind off all sts.



Join new yarn to stitches on holder. Repeat shaping for other side.



Joining back to front:

You'll be putting these together just like you would if you were sewing; right sides facing each other, sewing on the wrong side. I usually start piecing together at the points hardest to fix if I've made a mistake- the top of the shoulder. I can always go back and fix a crooked hem, but sloppy shoulders make me crazy.


Hold right sides together. Start join at shoulders. Placing the two sides together, take a crochet hook and single crochet through the stitches on both sides.

Next join: armholes, down sides.


Once pieces are joined, turn vest right side out and single crochet around the neckline and armholes. This gives a more finished look.



XXOO

Playing tic-tac-toe yesterday:

Little Brewer #1: Yay!
Brewguy: She smoked me!
Little Brewer #1: I want to play Mommy next. She's the challenging one.

How We Spent July 4

I received this text message on my phone:

AT 4:25, SKYWARN SPOTTERS REPORTED A CONFIRMED FUNNEL CLOUD AND HAIL OVER 1/2" IN THE STORM APPROACHING BROOKEVILLE. RESIDENTS IN BROOKEVILLE AND LAYTONSVILLE SHOULD SEEK SHELTER NOW!!!
Sent on: 07/04/2007 16:35:23

I have now learned that my wireless connection works in the basement.

It's the Fourth of July. Indpendence Day for the United States. The Brewers and I will be taking it easy. I will find time to do a little knitting. We may do a little tidy-ing up in preparation for tomorrow's visit by Brewgal's relatives. Grilling of dead animals may be involved. We may travel to observe airborne explosives. It is during these times of peace that my thoughts turn to...

Zombies. The walking dead. In folklore, the zombie might be a dead person reanimated by a sorcerer. In that case the zombie would be under the control of the reanimator, having no will of its own. Alternatively, the zombie could be someone who appears dead but whose consciousness has fled or been otherwise destroyed.

Modern zomibes want to eat you. Who sat around thinking, "Gosh, it would be SUPER scary if the dead came back to life and wanted to eat your brain!"


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My strengths: would look for a hideout and fortify the entrances, would run away from loved ones if they turn into zombies.

My weaknesses: have never fired a gun, would go looking for family/loved ones, can't run very far.

The flaw in the zombie apocolypse theory (there's always a flaw, isn't there?) is the same flaw that stalks the vampire theory. Eventually, all the humans would be destroyed and only zombies would remain. Then what? Do the zombies continue to wander around the earth in packs? Do they gather in giant zombie mosh pits singing unhhhhhh and flinging stray limbs?

Happy 4th everyone!

Thanks to Rabbitch for the zombie survival link.

Someone left the gate open

Because of this...

I found this wandering around my yard on Friday afternoon.

The mower's right there, buddy. Think you could do the back yard?

Fortunate Thursday

Ok, I have no idea what this little bit of Irish wisdom is supposed to mean. Listen to the river and you'll get a trout? What am I listening for, trout chatter? Perhaps all the tying of flies and endless casting into the river are useless. I need only listen for loudmouthed fish.

Last Sunday was brew day at Chez Brewgal. Mr. Brewguy brewed a Hefeweizen in preparation for next month's BBQ. This was his Father's Day present. Brewgal loves how easy it is to make Brewguy happy.

1/4 ounce hops to be added later.





First wirt hopping



It's the sparge! Note how Mr. Brewguy is dressed to blend into the mash tun.

Alien landing craft? No, the boil! As an added plus, the aluminum foil keeps the beer safe from unauthorized interstellar transmissions. I kid.

Brewguy's biggest worry is that the basement is now too warm to get the wirt down to yeast-pitching temp in a reasonable amount of time. There was mention of "ice bath" and "clear out the refridgerator." That's just crazy talk.

Fortunate Thursday

Fortunate Thursday

Designs sometimes fail.

Witness the example below. I had very high hopes for this one. It started with a nice charted design.

Unfortunately, the execution left a lot to be desired.

Not what I had hoped for. This looks more like evil eyes.

The design was inspried by an ancient middle-eastern tapestry fragment in the Museu Calouste Gulbenkian in Lisbon. The original is much more curvy and intricate (see my badly photographed example below).



As an aside, the Gulbenkian is a very cool museum. In addition to their regular holdings, which include a fabulous collection of Lalique jewelry, the museum had a special exhibit on Cartier. Two jewelry exhibits at once. That smear on the glass display case? My drool.





Can you imagine showing up to a party with this attached to your midriff? Dragon Lady indeed.

This is the advantage of hanging out with The Professors. I never would have thought to go to the Gulbenkian on my own. I tend to avoid museums when I'm on vacation. I like to hang out in street cafes, drinking local brew and people watching. However, going to Lisbon with La C is a different affair. Not only did she introduce me to this little gem, we got in for free! La C and her lovely husband have this innate air of culture and intellectualism that permeates the atmosphere, forcing my inner yee-haw to keep up.

The pink thing is finished and bestowed upon its intended.

I modified the baby kimono from Mason-Dixon Knitting. I realized as I was knitting it that I did not care for the way the arms were shaping. Instead I knitted the body from back to front, then added the arms separately. There's lots of room to grow.

Here's an action shot- ballet in progress.

and the requisite "No photographs, you swine paparazzi!"

I'm raising Greta Garbo.

Not to be outdone, Little Brewer #2 designed his own scarf ala Doctor Who. He picked out the colors himself from the Stash of Doom. I think he looks very dashing, an impression enhanced by the presence of the peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

It's amazing how little attention we pay to the daily workings of our bodies until they break down. I am still running a FUO = fever of unknown origin. We've ruled out hepatits, lupus, lyme disease, and rheumatoid arthritis. On top of it all, I caught Little Brewer #1's scarlet fever. Not only am I achy and feverish, I'm itchy. I'm like the seven dwarves rolled into one: sleepy, doc, itchy, achy, feverish, grumpy, and dopey. Dopey, because I can't even work up the energy to knit. Let me tell you, being home from work for a week and not being able to knit sucks big time.

Little Brewer #1 turned 7 last Saturday. We had a water party in the back yard. It was a wee bit chilly but the girls made the best of it. I purchased inflatable palm trees for that "tropical" look. It seemed like a great idea at the time. However, we soon discovered that it took forever to blow them up and they wouldn't stand on their own.

See the clever photo below? The fact that the tree is being supported by *two* people should have tipped me off. Swine misleading advertising.

Instead of palm trees by the wading pool, we had semi-inflated palm trees laying in the yard like limp tropical phalluses. The girls put them all in a pile, loaded it up with beach towels, christened it a "nest" and spent the rest of the party running back and forth from the nest making "peep peep" sounds. Kids are amazingly creative.

Sick

Remember when I said I was feeling better?
Apparently I was mistaken.

I am now consistently running a fever of 102, with night sweats and shaking. My work colleague and my husband convinced me (rightly) that this sort of thing is NOT GOOD and got me to go to the doctor. The doctor helpfully said that my symptoms are consistent with a number of different possibilities and that he was going to have to do some blood tests.

Ok, here's the thing. I had all sorts of excuses for not calling the doctor sooner. I am embarassed to be sick. I thought I could get over it on my own. I was afraid that the doctor wouldn't believe me, or think I was being silly.

Stupid. I am very stupid about my own health.

Anyway, back to the blood tests. Remember in science class when we had to test our own blood to determine its blood type? I am pretty sure that only required a drop from one finger. Not this time. The doctor did warn me they were going to take "quite a bit of blood." Quite a bit? They took so much blood I should have been given a cookie and a Red Cross donor card.


Four of these. Doesn't look impressive? When you're sitting in the chair, they appear about the size of a Red Bull can. Fortunately you don't actually have to FILL the container.

Also a gazillion little vials. What are they going to use all the blood for? Late-night snacking?

Hopefully the results will come back today and we will at least know what it is. Or is not. Or something.

Mother's Day

This will no doubt be one of the gazillion blog posts on Mother's Day. My Mother's Day went as follows:

• Wake up with a splitting headache, possibly a result of the "good lord, it's HOW high??" pollen count or from last night's rum.
• Brewguy brings coffee in bed. Snuggling, while I try not to move brain.
• Little Brewer #1 brings card with poem and bath salts. At least I think they're bath salts. They appear too big to snort.
• Little Brewer #2 brings card and cookies. "Look Mom, I brought you some cookies! Can I have one?" Immediately eats said cookies. More snuggling.
• French toast. Brief delay while dining room table is cleared of unsold yard sale detritus.
• Picnic at Dixon Park, which is right on the BWI landing approach. Would have brought wine, but Maryland has crazy laws about open containers.
• Nap
• Call own Mother to invite her to lunch next week.
• Dinner and a trashy movie (The Mummy). Just the right mix of schmaltz and Brendan Frasier.

All in all, a lovely Mother's Day.

When humor goes, there goes civilization.
----Erma Bombeck (attributed)

Ever notice how little things start to go wrong when one spouse is out of town? This used to happen frequently to my mother. My father is an atmospheric physicist*. When we were small, Dad would chase eclipses around the globe to study and measure solar flares. Mom would take us for chicken noodle soup and root beer floats at Hot Shoppes. During his absences, things tended to happen. Like the chimney falling off the roof. The washer exploding. And I have this vague memory that the dryer may have caught on fire, but I could be confusing that with the kitchen fire.

Back to the present. Brewguy is again in Milton, Oregon visiting MIL. She's a little distressed that her house is in "disarray," so he is helping her put everything back. To which I say, what did she expect? She MOVED, albeit temporarily. That, and the fact that she needs a new dining room table because hers is now sitting in my dining room.

Okay, I may feel a teeny bit guilty about that but she did insist that I take it and at the time we were all under the impression she was not going to need it in that little apartment of hers.

The little brewers have been troopers. I took them to MDS&W on Saturday (slight whining), shopping at the organic food mart (organic pop-tarts! ecstasy!), and a birthday party on Sunday.

Things are starting to happen.

aThe dryer won't stop at the end of the cycle. It helpfully buzzes its little heart out, continually, until you open the door.
aMy cell phone won't keep a charge.
aLittle Brewer #1 has contracted scarlet fever.

My first thought was, "Oh no! Just like Beth in Little Women!" The pediatrician reassured me that scarlet fever is not as bad as it once was, likening it to "strep with a rash." She is on antibiotics, but will have to stay out of school until Thursday. Since Brewguy is out of town, I get to stay home with her. This is really an unexpected blessing, because now I get some undivided Mommy-Daughter time.

With a dash of itchy.

*Do you have any idea what it is like having a physicist Dad? Those forms in school that ask for your parents' occupation? Try spelling "physicist" when you're in third grade. When I asked for math homework help he would start with Newton. On the upside, I have memorized most of Newton's laws.

To sell or not to sell

As you may recall, last month we spent a week in Milton-Freewater clearing out MIL's house. With MIL's blessing, much of her stuff was sent across the country to us, traveling on a slow truck.

In preparation for the new stuff, I have been sorting my current clutter. Luckily our neighborhood is having a community yard sale in two weeks. As I unpacked box after box with labels reading "glasses from old house," and "small items," I had visions of selling the multitude of vintage chairs, glassware and miscellaneous clutter I have accumulated. The house would be free and clear, ready to accept the new bounty, and we might make enough to buy a pizza. Ah, what good intentions I had.

The moving company called yesterday. The truck will be here on SATURDAY (which, by the way, is also Maryland Sheep and Wool. They better not show up before 3pm.)

Saturday...the day after tomorrow. My living room/kitchen/porch is still full of yet-to-be-yard-sale'd items. Where the *(&*(^!! am I going to put this new crap??

Panic has set in. I have temporarily become the de-clutter monster. That set of Fiestaware? On the block! The Iriquois China? Outta here! The Wonder Woman tumbler? Well, I might have to save that one.

I even considered thinning some of my precious stash. Fortunately it was only a momentary impluse.