Thursday, May 31, 2012

An Overload of Wildlife

Every once in a while around here at Chez Knit I have a day that just seems to be full of wildlife.

We do live in the woods you know. And woods just seem to be full of God’s creatures.

I started off the day by running over a squirrel. And I don’t mean that I just grazed him. If only. I could see him at the side of the road. He could see me. There was that split second of slow motion as you can see that he is thinking it over.

Doooooooooon’t Doooooooo Iiiiiiiiiiiit! my brain told me.

But he did. And then he stopped, right in the road, thinking about which way to go.

He thought too long.

Not a great way to start the day. But I soldiered on and went to a short photo shoot. Then back home to edit photos.

And as I am sitting at my desk noodling away at pictures.

BAM! A hawk soars in and goes for one of the birds at the feeder. Unsuccessfully I might add. But then I was treated to that hawk AND another hawk swooping around in the front yard and going from tree to tree calling to each other. Not another bird sound anywhere in the neighborhood and not a bird in site.


Sorry for the poor quality of the picture. A combination of light limiting screen and my long lens all the way out doesn’t make for crisp pictures.

There was so much squawking going on between the hawks that they woke up all the owls in the woods.

Every one of them. Right about noon. So I was then treated to 30 minutes or so of owls calling back and forth to each other. Some of them are pretty close but I just haven’t been able to zero in on them yet so no pictures. That would be an ultimate for me.

The hawks finally moved on. The owls grumpily went back to bed. I went back to work.


And then these ladies showed up for their usual noon time pecking under my feeder. I am totally captivated by their ugliness and their ability to flow across the yard in a silent river of turkiness. They make no noise whatsoever until they rustle the leaves as they enter the woods.


The other birdies came back slowly after the hawks left the neighborhood. The crazy looking Cardinals cheeping and talking to each other.

And I figured at that point that we were done with the Wildlife Follies for the day. Max the Magnificent and I decided that it was time to walk down to get the mail and enjoy the cooler temps. He knew the turkeys had been there and he spent the time it took me to walk to the end of the driveway racing back and forth and following their trail.

I was strolling back up the drive, checking out my Netflix video (The Tudors) and thinking about the fact that the one thing we haven’t seen yet this spring are the fawns that I KNOW are being birthed in the woods.

Hmmmmm, I wonder when they will show up. I wouldn’t thing for a bit yet. Please don’t let there be multiples. Momma will keep them far in the……….

And then as I was strolling to the house, opening the Netflix envelope, I happened to look up and to my left into the little strip of woods between Chez Knit and the house next door.


Take a good look. What do you see. Yup, a fawn.

And there I am on the driveway with Max the Deer Non-catcher barreling towards me.

In the house Max. Quietly!

I flow quietly into the house, grab the camera, which thankfully already has the telephoto lens on it, check my settings, prevent Max from going back out with me (he saw the camera and knows what that means) and quietly go back out onto the driveway.


I carefully snuck across the driveway and stepped into the woods in my ballet flats hoping that there wasn’t any poison ivy in my path and stopping every once in a while to take another picture.

Folks we are talking new fawn. New enough that he wasn’t even sure if I was something that he should be afraid of. He was unaware of me for a bit. Then he could smell me. Then he could see me but he didn’t do anything other than watch me as I slowly advanced. Momma was no where in sight which makes me think that he is very new indeed. They tend to leave a fawn in a safe place and go off to feed.


He stayed right where momma told him to until I was about 25 feet from him and then he moved further off into the woods.

My day has seriously been very, very good.

Well other than the whole squirrelicide incident.

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Brenda Dayne I Kind Of Disagree

We are going to talk about knitting and yarn for a while.

And I can just hear about half of my meager readers click off and go do something else.

Root Canal anyone? That sounds less painful than talking about yarn!

The silence is deafening.

But I soldier on.

Oh Brenda Dayne I never thought I would disagree. And perhaps this isn’t really a disagreement with you. I don’t know. I am so conflicted. You have been my knitting beacon. If you say it cannot be done, I go on to something else for surely you are correct in all things yarny. And you live in a place where people’s voices are melodious (I love that word and just wanted to use it).

Say it with me…



But I digress.

So, back in December, Podcast #106 to be exact, there was much discussion about what to do with socks knit long ago. What to do with them if they are old and perhaps worn out. Or just old and you don’t like them. Make them into wrist warmers? Kiss them one last time and then consign them to the bin? Add new heels and/or toes? And many expressed the thought that if the socks had done their duty that you could dispose of them.

And I suppose that is true.

But then I stared wondering about socks that are in the sock basket that are old in years but aren’t that worn because……well….you just don’t like them all that much. What to do with them? Give them away. Just keep stuffing them down further in the bottom of the basket so that they can’t give you accusing looks when you pass them by?

Case in point.


These socks. I have been knitting socks since…..hmmmmm…..I think since 2008. And these are some socks that I finished that first year using the yarn Collinette Jitterbug to be exact. Yarn that cost me about $30 at Miss Chickpeas. Take a look at them. What don’t you see……well, you don’t see a ton of “wear and tear” on them. Toes and heels are still in pretty good shape actually. And that is because I don’t like them and therefore I just don’t wear them as often as some of the other socks in the arsenal. They are GIGANTINORMOUS on my feet. I had no clue what I was doing early on. I had no idea how to tailor my socks to my feet. I was clueless. And these socks show it. I think I have kept them around so long because they are the socks that I was knitting when HHBL had his little “incident” in 2008.

And then I heard podcast #106. And it got me to thinkin’. I wonder if I can frog back those socks????? Brenda Dayne doesn’t think so and she is my knitting guru (along with the Yarn Harlot of course). But I don’t like being told that I can’t do something……

One caveat on the following instructions. IF your hand knit socks are very threadbare at the heels then I do not think this will work. If it is just a problem at the toes then those can just be cut right off.


First I cut off the toes. I do NOT have enough patience to undo a very well done Kitchener toe. I am very good at Kitchener.

Then there was a bit of working the yarn to find the end that would successfully frog, and dealing with the fuzzies that are part of wearing the sock.


Necessity is the mother of invention when frogging a long ago sock. You may be asking yourself why I did this rather than just rolling it up in a ball….


Take a close look my friend. Very kinky yarn. Not “50 Shades of Grey” kinky just kinky. Wool retains it’s shape. And so, in order to get rid of that kinkiness I had to form the yarn into a skein.


Tie in 4 spots around the skein to keep it from getting all tangled. Tangles would sort of defeat the purpose of all of this. Do this BEFORE you remove it from whatever you have been winding it around. Believe me.


Perhaps I should rename this yarn “Christian Grey” because it is very, very kinky.

But the beauty of yarn that is partly or completely wool is that you can relax it. You can make it happy.


Gently put it into a sink filled with cold water (NEVER HOT) along with some baby wash. There are many wool soaking products but baby wash has always worked well for me.

Leave that yarn in there for at least 30 minutes. I could actually see the kinks relaxing as the yarn absorbed the water. When the time is up gently lift the skein out, carefully squeeze out the soapy water. Rinse and repeat. Then lay it float on a towel and roll it up and get out as much water as you can. But be gentle. Don’t rub it, just squeeze gently.

Gads that sounds like Yarn Porn.

Now back to the instructions.

However you aren’t done yet. Because you have to dry the yarn and you don’t want it to go back to it’s kinky state.


Carefully hang the skein on a hanger. Mine was hanging in the laundry room over a vent so that there was a gentle breeze every time the A/C came on. It was very hot and humid outside that day otherwise I would have hung it outside. And just to be sure that the skein didn’t “re-kink” I rigged up a weight at the bottom….


Not very heavy but just heavy enough to keep some tension on the yarn. Now leave it there for 24 hours until it is totally dry.


Voila! An unkinked skein of Collinette Jitterbug. Or actually half a skein because it comes in one big skein.


I have come away with less yarn than I started out with it is true. And Collinette Jitterbug isn’t a really good value for the money anyways (I think their skeins are a bit on the small side). But it was a $30 skein of yarn!

So, you can salvage yarn from an old pair of socks.

But only if they aren’t terribly worn. So maybe Brenda Dayne and I are both right. I like to think so.

Monday, May 28, 2012

For Those Who Died to Keep Us Free

It is Memorial Day. A day filled with family, friends, grilling, and more sales than any one person could possibly cover.


It is a day to remember and thank those who have served to keep us safe and free.

I choose the later.

I choose to say thank you to my father for his service.
DSA USArmy promotion to Major 1969

I choose to say thank you to Cousin Clint, Air Force Pilot extraordinaire. Super proud of you Bud.

I choose to say thank you to Karl, also serving in the Air Force.

I choose to say thank you to those men and women whom I meet in my travels who are actively serving in our military. They are always surprised when some crazy haired woman walks up to them in the airport, or the store, or the rest stop, sticks out her hand and says, “Thank you for your service.”

And I pray for them.


Every time I sit down at my computer I am reminded. I am reminded to pray for Alex, a student of HHBL’s who is currently serving in Afghanistan.

I am reminded to pray for Doug, severely wounded last year, who is valiantly fighting his way back.

And I am reminded to pray for Matt, the son of my college roomie. Matt is again in Afghanistan and I am again waking up at 2a.

And as I have done for the past 10 years or so, I will find a quiet place in my house and I will read aloud to myself the words of The Gettysburg Address. And I will cry.

So that you don’t have to look the words up I have printed them below. Take the time to read them. Read them slowly and carefully. And remember all those men and women who have served so valiantly, who continue to serve with quiet courage, to keep us safe and free.

The Gettysburg Address

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great Civil War, testing whether that nation or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate - we can not consecrate - we can not hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced.

It is rather for us to be dedicated to the great task remaining before us - that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion - that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain - that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom - and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

Friday, May 25, 2012

7 Quick Takes (Vol 166)


Good golly Miss Molly how can it be Friday all over again. Where do the days, hours, minutes go? You know the Quick Takes rule. When you are done rolling around in my blather you need to click on the picture above to be whisked, at the speed of Mark Zuckerberg’s plummeting fortune, over to Conversion Diary to see what everyone else has been up to.

Blather on me hearties. Blather on.

Earlier in the week LaurenLeap and I were very concerned about our tomato plants that went into the ground last Friday. Somewhere along the way, perhaps last Sunday morning, we had a light frost. When I went out to the garden to water on Monday some of the plants were looking, how shall I say it….BAD. Burned leaves, definite frost damage.



But after spending a couple of hours in the garden on Thursday, getting the cukes and the basil in the ground, we think that all the plants will be OK. We were a tad worried about the broccoli as well but they seem to be setting new leaves.

I knew you all were worried so I thought I should let you know. Pictures will be coming next week some time I would think but at the moment the onions and garlic are doing well, the tops on the carrots are really growing, the peas are coming up, the rhubarb all seems to have survived the trip from Illinois, the Brussels sprouts are growing, the lettuce is taking over the world, the spinach is going strong, the beets are coming up with gusto, the cantaloupe looks happy, the basil smells so mouthwatering that I just want to lay there by the bed with my nose pressed up to the plants, and the first round of green beans are in the ground.

Over achievers? Who says that we are over achievers.

What does it say about me that I am reading a The Hunt For KSM by Terry McDermott and I am listening to Green River, Running Red by Ann Rule (the hunt for a capture of the Green River Killer).

Best not to think about it too much I would imagine.

But I do love Ann Rule’s books.

And I am totally dependent on audiobooks to get things done during the day. Well all except for writing.

For the last few days a female turkey has shown up every morning to peck as the seeds that fall down under my front bird feeder. I never seem to catch her as she exits the woods, it always just seems like she suddenly and very quietly appears.


Sorry for the quality of the pictures but those darn “light limiting” screens that we put in the windows really mess up pictures. They give a sort of fuzzy, brain addled quality to the photos.


Or is it just me?

Oh and this morning. There were FIVE turkeys just pecking and scratching away under the feeder and making a gosh awful mess. I am hoping that if they feel comfortable that eventually we might see little turkeys babies. I saw some briefly this week and that was the very first time ever!

I had my own People of Walmart moment yesterday. I went in to Wally Mart to get some lettuce. Of course I saw someone that I knew. Hi Tiffany!! And we had to stop and chat for a moment. Although why she was there when she JUST had a baby 8 days ago is beyond me.

But I digress.

So I get in line and I am waiting. And then I look to my left and observe a fellow walking down the main aisle and heading for the check out line next to mine.

Is he wearing a skirt?


Well not really a skirt. More of a “skort”. That is a man that knows he wants to be comfortable and is definitely secure in himself.

And he was buying a big “Star Wars Legos” box.

I am making yogurt again today.

When I told you how to make Yogurt waaaaaaay back in February I was thinking that the yogurt wouldn’t last all that long in the frig and I would need to be eating it all the time so that it didn’t spoil. I like Vanilla Yogurt…but I made a gallon of it. Literally a gallon. And that is a lot of yogurt, even if you eat a lot of smoothies.

But guess what. If you leave the jars of yogurt sealed and in the back of the frig it will keep a LOOOOOOOOOONG time. I just cracked the last jar of yogurt last week and it is good. A bit more “yogurty” but still excellent and smooth.

Summer is smoothie season around here so I really need more yogurt. And since it is a multiple step process that makes a bit of a mess so I want to get this done before we start having showings. I can’t stop once the process starts, or at least not until the jars are “resting” in their nice warm cooler.


Remember the Killdeer nest that I mentioned last week. The one that is right in the middle of one of the plots in the garden?

Overnight, between Wednesday and Thursday, something raided the nest and all the eggs are gone. LaurenLeap and I worked in the garden yesterday morning and we both noted that the eggs were gone but we didn’t see Momma and little babies anywhere. And then the woman who has the plot right next to the nest said that the eggs had been there yesterday when she had been gardening. So we have to assume that most likely a raccoon got them.

Darn it!!!

Oh yes, and just because I don’t have anything else to fill my time I have decided that this year I am going to teach myself how to write in Copperplate script. I already have training in Calligraphy, although I am a bit rusty at the moment. I used to earn “mad money” when the progeny were little by addressing wedding invitations and such. But I have always loved the look of Copperplate. Of course I have no idea how I will use it, I just know I need to learn it.


Who wouldn’t like to be able to produce something like this!!

And because, you know, my days just drag by and I don’t have anything better to do.

Thursday, May 24, 2012

Captain Tai Kwon Do Turns Ten


See that young fellow with the red sweatshirt on, second from the right? That is Captain Tai Kwon Do and today is his tenth birthday.

Why do I mention this?

Because I want to tell you a story. A story about God and His hand in all things and His watching over little children. I asked my cousin, Hadoo, if I could tell the story. It really is her story but she gave permission.

Although if CTKD were standing here next to me he would make sure that I knew that he is most definitely NOT a small child and that he can take me down if he needs to.

I am just glad to know that he is here because he almost wasn’t. It was a very close thing.


The lovely and strikingly tall woman standing next to me is CTKD’s mom, my cousin Hadoo. I am 13 years her senior. She is 13 years older than Cartoon Girl. Cartoon Girl is 13 years older than Hadoo’s oldest son. Cosmic symmetry. Next to Hadoo is her sister, Laura and on the end is the youngest sister/cousin….Auntie Poo. We do love our nic-names.

Hadoo used to live very close to me, just two towns over or 20 minutes driving time, however you want to look at it. Close enough that we could see each other on a regular basis and close enough that I could occasionally make her husband, Coach Soccer, crazy with the thought that I might try to slip mayo into something that I made for them. He doesn’t like mayo. And I like holding power over people.

10 years ago today we had just finished up with a garage sale at her house…

And she was 30 weeks pregnant.

Cartoon Girl had spent the day at Hadoo’s house being a good older cousin and babysitting Tech Boy. I picked her up late in the afternoon and stopped for a bit to help clean up the garage sale aftermath and to shoot a raspberry at their crabby next door neighbor. I distinctly remember telling Hadoo that she needed to go and put her feet up and rest.

Yes, yes I will, I will. Coach Soccer is taking us out to dinner. All will be well.

We go home. I put my feet up for a bit. Then take them down and start dinner.

And just about that time the phone rings.

It is Coach Soccer on the phone and this is what I hear….


Bleeding? All over the front steps? I am on my way.

That 20 minute trip between our houses? I did it in 10 minutes and it was the longest 10 minutes of my life. I did 70 mph on back roads praying all the way. Praying hard. Because Hadoo was only 30 weeks along and that is never a time when there should be any blood anywhere. By the time that I arrived at their house, a bare 20 minutes after the phone call they were already gone in the ambulance.

They had gone out to dinner and had returned home happy and full. Hadoo was about to walk into her house when, BAM!, she is hemorrhaging on her front steps. No warning, just a river of blood. CS didn’t panic. He called 911. He called me. And then God took over and orchestrated all the rest.

Their across the street neighbors were just returning from church and saw something was wrong and came right over. They watched Tech boy until I got there and these sweet angels even washed all the blood off the steps. They were in their 70’s at the time and not in great health and yet they knelt down and washed those steps until they were spotless.

There was a hospital 5 minutes from the house. The EMT’s arrived within minutes and knew that Hadoo was not going to make it if they didn’t get her to the hospital. But Hadoo’s OB doctor was on the phone and he was telling Coach Soccer to IGNORE what the EMT’s were saying. To put Hadoo in the car and bring her up to the University Hospital’s Level 1 Trauma center…..a 40 minute drive away, in traffic. The EMTs couldn’t take her there, it would have to be CS. It is very hard to ignore a doctor who is stridently telling you to do something. A doctor who is adamant about what he is saying to you. Thank goodness CS did. If he had put Hadoo in the car and tried to go to University she would have bled to death before she ever arrived. We didn’t know it at the time but she had suffered a placental abruption. That is an emergency any way you look at it.

The EMT’s transported her to the local hospital, 5 minutes away. She was in very bad condition. They couldn’t stop the bleeding. And at the hospital there was a doctor. A doctor who is NEVER at that hospital. He just happened to be there that particular day and at that particular time. A doctor who knew about preemie babies.

And that local hospital had a crack ER team. A team that saved Hadoo’s life. They made the decision to intubate her and do a crash C-section…in the ER. There wasn’t time to take her to the OR. It was now or never. They saved Hadoo’s life. They saved CTKD’s life. He arrived weighing just over 3 pounds and 17” long.

We also happen to live in a metropolitan community that has one of the best children’s hospitals in the country, Rainbow Babies and Childrens Hospital. He was intubated and on his way to Rainbow in the blink of an eye.

Jacobsixsmallfile (rev 0)

This is CTKD’s foot two weeks after delivery. So very very small. But so very very alive.

The Lord provided people all along the way who were ministering angels to Hadoo, CS, CTKD and the wider family. Nurses who pointed the way to the right insurance. Therapists to help with medical issues. Neighbors and friends and church family. And the Lord’s hand can be seen in all of it.

IMG_4643AIMG_4644ACaptain Tai Kwon Do I sure am glad you are here. All straight A’s in school and a purple belt and all.You with your sweet, loving heart and that mischievous twinkle in your eye. Even at an early age you knew how to lock your brother out of the house. 

You are 10 years old TODAY!!!

Now go have some cake and ice cream

Wednesday, May 23, 2012

One More Time With Feeling!

Well, we are putting our feet back into the home selling pool.

HHBL and I have been thinking about it for a while now. Contemplating the timing. Girding our loins for the fight. Steeling ourselves for the inconvenience and emotional toll that selling a home takes out on all who participate in the ritual. At least on the sellers side.

There were a number of things on the “realtor would like you to do this” list that we hadn’t gotten to the last time that Chez Knit was on the market. Those things are now done. Darn it the shutters really do look nice. In the last 18 months or so we have continued to clean out and pair down. Everything is clean and picked up and in place. Heck even the unfinished side of the basement is clean. Of course, if you know me at all then you aren’t surprised at this.

It is often said that a man’s job defines him. I am not sure if that is totally true but I do think that a woman’s home, or at least what people think and say about it, can define how she feels about herself in her daily life. And if you are a type “A”, over achiever, highly organized, perfectionist like I sometimes am, having your house on the market can be….difficult.

In the past I would worry as soon as the sign went up in the yard. I would worry that “they”, whoever they are, would not like my house. That they would be hyper-critical. And if they didn’t like Chez Knit then by extension they did not like me. I felt like I was in Jr. High again. Only with a big financial component to it.

I never said that my thought processes are always rational.

But this time around I am not feeling quite like that and I am thankful. And for some reason I am feeling hopeful. It may be because the neighbors down the street have sold their house. It may be because the agent thinks that now is the time to put the house on the market and that it is priced correctly for the market. It may just be that one of the first things that we told Rick and Donna (the agents) was WE ARE NOT STAGING A DARN THING.

Personally, the last time we had Chez Knit on the market I was afraid to live in my own house. Afraid to move any of the things that the stager had put up. Hated the art work. Thought the way that she re-arranged my furniture didn’t look right at all. Didn’t think that it looked like a “home” at all but just a builders model. Afraid all the time that things were not going to measure up to some unseen yardstick that kept moving. A target that could never be “hit”. It was a terrible and unsettling feeling and a terrible year.

However this time around my thought is……

My house is clean and bright. It is well organized and everything works. It looks good. The landscaping, especially the back garden, is looking lovely at the moment. It is my house and I love it, we just want something smaller and in a better location for us. If you don’t like it that is fine with me, your perfect house is not this one. If you like Chez Knit then please make an offer and we would be glad to sell it to you. But I am not going to get my panties in a twist about it if you don’t. I know that we have done everything that needed to be done before putting the house on the market.

And I am going on with my daily routine and my job and my cooking and my blogging. I am not going to stress out (much) when I have a showing. I am going to have my glass of wine in the evening and sit out on the deck with HHBL and enjoy the quiet. I am going to enjoy with all I have in me this stage of life that I am in and I am not going to let a little thing like a For Sale sign in the front yard make my blood pressure go up with angst and anticipation and fear.

At least I am going to try to.




Tuesday, May 22, 2012

A Wildlife Filled Morning.

I had grand plans for my blog post today. We have put Chez Knit back on the market (please sell, please sell, please sell) and I was going to talk all about it.

And then, just as I was beginning to think about what I was going to say. And as I was working my way through the last of the cleaning chores. Max the Magnificent scared the living daylights out of me by barking at something. He was practically vibrating as he stood in front of the dining room windows.


What the heck is wrong with you!

I might have yelled that at him after I had calmed my heart down.

I don’t see anything out the…………



When Max started barking there was one lone Tom Turkey just standing in the middle of the cul de sac. Just standing.

And then there were two……

And finally there were three.

And they just stood there for awhile as if they were waiting for something. Wailing for…..


Tails up, tails down, tails up, tails down.

Wings up, wings down. Wings up, wings, down.

Shake the bird booty. Talk turkey smack. Look around.

And after I got back from quietly running into my office, tripping over the dog in the process, taking off the wide angle lens from the camera and putting on the telephoto lens, I noticed that there were a number of female turkeys that were wandering across the lawn.

They are boring to look at…….but not if you are a Tom Turkey.


Hey babeeeeeeee. What is a sweet little turkey like you doing here.

Come over here and check out my wattle.

Well HELLO Gorgeous! Ignore the other Toms, I am the bird for you!

Tom turkeys can be so idiotic. At least that seemed like the general consensus of the females who wandered off into the woods. Or in the case of the lone female that gave them any attention….


Turning around and walking off into the woods along the driveway.


Oh babeeeee. Boom chakalakalaka. Boom chakalakalaka. Boom chakala……


Hey Guys! She’s leavin’!! Hey babeeeee. Yoooo hooo. Hey Honey Feathers where ya goin’?


Hey wait up! What did we say??

She didn’t even give them a second glance. She just wandered off into the woods and went on about her business without another thought.

And the Toms stood there for a time all dejected and confused. Tail feathers slowly drooping.

And then Max barked at them and they skittered across the lawn and were gone. Off pursuing some other female with less discerning taste and a rapidly advancing biological clock. Eggs ripe for the picking.

Ummmm, never mind. Moving on.

And then, as I was going back into the kitchen to get back to the laundry, I noticed a speck of something on the floor that at first I took to be a piece of dirt or a piece of stick.

Not on my nice clean floor! I don’t think so! I bent down to pick it up and realized……


It was a slug.

How the heck a slug got into my house I will never know. He was laboriously trying to decide if he could heat my hardwood floor.

I don’t think so buddy. I was felling in a generous mood so I…..


Scooped him up with a piece of paper and transported him outside where he can eat my basil in peace.

OK. I didn’t kill him on the spot because I didn’t want to have to clean up slimy slug guts from my floor.

But if I find him on my basil then he is a gonner. The Croc of Death will reap retribution on his slimy little butt.

Do slugs have butts?

Sorry, I said butt.

Friday, May 18, 2012

7 Quick Takes (Vol 165)


It’s HERE! It’s HERE! My latest installment of 7 Quick Takes. Oh the excitement. Oh the blather. You know the deal. When you are done OOOOOing and Ahhhhing over me incredibly boring life then you need to click on the picture above to be whisked, at the speed of the horses racing in the Preakness tomorrow, over to Conversion Diary.

Keep Calm and Blather On.

Don’t you just hate it when you send off a self-righteous, why isn’t this working, fix it and why didn’t I get my latest Smithsonian Magazine kind of email…..

And then find that you have forgotten to pay the renewal just about the time the Customer Service center send back an email telling you just that very thing.


Not that I would KNOW anything about that mind you.

Nothing here. Move along.

I have another edition of “Deb’s Stupid Household Mistakes” to go along with the mirth of the electrician, the garage heater, the washing machine repair man. The list is endless.

So yesterday I mentioned that we have some handymen here to do some touch up things before we put Chez Knit back on the market. And one of the things on Mike’s “punch list” was to figure out why the light fixture in the stairway that goes from the basement to the garage isn’t working. And hoping against hope that it wasn’t something like a short or something else that would require getting an electrician in there.

So Mike is up on the ladder in a manner that made me really nervous and checking our homeowners insurance. He is up there for a bit and then comes to find me to ask me for a light bulb.

He goes back up and screws in the light bulb and VOILA! Let there be light.

Ruh roh.

Uh Mike? Can you tell me what was wrong? (please let it me something complicated that he has never seen before and that I didn’t do).

Oh yeah Mrs. Q (said in his slightly Amish accented voice), the light bulbs weren’t properly screwed into the sockets and one of the bulbs was burned out.

Please kill me now.

On Saturday I hear HHBL calling me from the deck. He is standing there eagerly gesturing to me to come outside so that he can show me something.

Something good??

Not really.



Yes, I know it is just a Garter Snake. Garter Snakes are good. They eat things.

And there aren’t any poisonous snakes in my part of the Frozen Northeast Ohio. I know this because I called the game warden one time and asked…..just to be sure.

But it is still a snake. And I know exactly where it is living. In the concrete cover that is over the septic tank bubbler motor.


I am sure I will do a longer Community Garden update soon, when things start to get a bit busier out there. LaurenLeap and I spent some time in the beds yesterday. There is so much to do!

We have been a bit slow in getting the last of the winter wheat cut back and tilled in. If we let it go any longer we would have been harvesting wheat to grind for flour! But it is all cut back now thanks to LaurenLeap’s weed wacker!

Look closely at the picture. Not everything in there is clumps of dirt. Those four, neatly arranged eggs belong to a Killdeer who has made her nest right in the midst of someone’s plot.

And boy was she unhappy that I got close enough to take pictures. She was calling shrilly and fluttering around as if she had a broken wing. I was quick but she glared at me with her little birdie eyes as I left. LaurenLeap and I are hoping that the babies hatch out before whoever has leased the plot decides that they are ready to plant. The plots all around this particular patch of earth have been planted so it is just a matter of time.

I am going to complain for one second.

Mike the handyman is in the process of re-caulking our shower. That means that we cannot use said shower for the next few days.

That means that I have to walk down the hall and use the shower in Cartoon Girl’s old room.

I do not like this. It is not my shower. It feels strange and odd.

I am done now.

HHBL’s baseball season is in full swing.

YEAH!!!! Well, yeah except that sometimes I have to do the “official” scoring for the game and even though I am a good baseball “scorer” I still tend to give people hits when they didn’t earn them or errors when they aren’t warranted. But I am getting better and I am learning to just ask. But I am going to have to do some more intensive baseball rules education I am thinking

But I digress.

The start of baseball season means that there might be future posts involving pictures of

Fathers and sons at baseball games. Or Fathers and daughters if the occasion arises.


Man’s best friend waiting patiently for his favorite person to come off of the field.


Men in baseball uniforms. Yum.

Today is…….

My 27th wedding anniversary.

Yes, 27 years ago today HHBL and I embarked on this crazy ride that is called marriage. I was going to write an entire epistle on it but I really like what I wrote for our 25th anniversary so I am actually going to direct you over there.

But I do want to say.