9-0-1-2 (988 to go)

A women's health and fitness expert on The Today Show this morning listed, at the end of her little talk, what we women over 50 need to do to stay healthy.

She listed the usual foods we need to eat, the things we need to avoid, and then she said, casually, "Oh, and of course get in your 10,000 steps per day."

Well, of course we'll do that, honey. No problem.

She added, just as casually, "If it's easier for you, just run five miles first thing in the morning. That'll give you your 10,000 steps."

My heavens, that sounds even more fun, doesn't it? I'll just hop out of bed at dawn, throw on some clothes, and bolt out the door. I'll run my five miles and come home to check that little item off the day's to-do list.

Let's get real.

I love my nifty new pedometer, but really, getting in 10,000 steps a day is no easy task. I walked for 25 minutes this morning at my workout class, and Ken and I walked for about 20 minutes just before lunch. Add to that my trotting back and forth here in the house, and I have a whopping 9012 steps in so far today. But it's just after 2:00 p.m., and I'm not sure I'm up for another 988 steps before day's end. I hope I find the gumption, though, because this is the closest I've come to 10,000 steps since getting my pedometer a week ago.

I keep the gadget in my pocket and check it regularly to see how much the steps are adding up. I guess I expected to discover I was already walking 10,000 steps a day with little or no effort. Then there was the little glitch when I initially set up the pedometer, setting the time, measuring my stride, etc. I didn't realize I'd set the time for a.m. when it should've been p.m., or vice versa. This little error mattered, because the pedometer resets itself at 12:00 midnight each day. I wondered why it was wiping out my morning's steps by early afternoon. Lo and behold, once I set the clock correctly, the problem was solved.

On to other matters:

I've been doing a little sewing for the sales table at my sorority's big upcoming spring convention. I used to love to sew, starting my little career at age eight or so, by making dolls' clothes with my mother's Singer sewing machine, the kind with the lever at knee height that needed to be pushed to make the sewing machine run.

Since learning to knit, sewing has taken a major back seat. I'd rather be holding knitting needles than guiding fabric under a sewing machine foot.

But I bit the bullet this past weekend and made some reversible purses from a pattern I found here. They're rather clever in that one strap is made into a longer loop than the other, so the longer loop can be pulled through the shorter loop to make a secure closing. I made the first one the size the pattern called for, but the next two I made a bit larger because, after all, one can never have a purse that's too large, can one?

I made only three of these reversible purses, because I'm not sure whether they'll be something ladies at the convention want to buy. I figured that if they don't sell, I'd rather come home with only three of them, not twenty of them.

I also made a few more Wonder Wallets. These have sold very well in the past, at $6 each, but my problem is that I've just about fizzled my interest in making them. I've made maybe 100 of them, so you can see why my interest is waning.

I had had four more of them cut out for about a year now, waiting for the inspiration to sew them. The inspiration appeared, briefly, right after I finished the reversible purses, so now they're done and ready to go onto the sales table. They've very handy little wallets. I use mine to store airline frequent flyer cards, discount cards for various stores, and things like that. They save wear and tear on my other wallet. When we travel I leave my wallet at home and take only my little Wonder Wallet with some cash, my insurance card, my driver's license, and my beloved credit card. That's all I need to take, so it saves me from dragging a heavy wallet in my travel shoulder bag.

And one final thing, from the one-step-forward, two-steps-back department.

I made these socks for a male friend. After finishing the first sock, just as I'd cast on for sock #2, I decided Ken had better try on the completed sock to make sure it was about the right size.

Well, it wasn't. It was too short.

Bummer.

So I forged head with the second sock, making it longer by an inch than the first sock, then spent considerable time picking out the toe of the first sock so I could ravel it back and reknit it. I didn't realize I tend to work in the loose end of the yarn so securely. My heavens, I entertained the idea of using scissors to cut the darned toe open in order to get at the end of the yarn.
Finally I got the toe raveled out and lengthened the foot of this sock, too.

Mission accomplished.

Now I'd better get up out of this chair and get walking, since it's 2:45 p.m. and time is getting away from me.

Only 988 to go. You can do it. You can do it.

P. S. It's 3:41 p.m. and my pedometer now reads 10, 484. I decided to take the dog for another walk, and once I got outside, I just kept walking for awhile. Phew. The dog didn't mind. There are all kinds of new scents for her to check out, now that the spring is "springing."

Letting "awesome" go

I've decided to let go of "awesome." Or at least I've decided to let go of "awesome" as I used to know it. I've done my best to do my part in preserving this word's original meaning, but I knew it was a lost cause when we recently ate lunch at a pub on the Portland waterfront.

Ken and I each ordered the fish and chips special. After we'd told our waitress our choice, she said, "Awesome," turned on her heel, and headed to the kitchen.

Ordering fish and chips is awesome? By whose standards? This was Portland, Maine, folks, where fresh seafood appears on every restaurant menu. If we'd ordered fish and chips on, say, the moon, then maybe that would be awesome, or at least getting what we'd ordered would be awesome. Or if we'd ordered kangaroo meat in Portland, Maine, and actually received it, that might be slightly awesome.

But as I said, this was Portland, Maine.

What once meant "inspiring an emotion of reverence, dread and wonder" now means something somewhere between "mediocre" and "slightly interesting," as near as I can tell. Now a bowl of oatmeal can, apparently, be "awesome." So can a glass of orange juice. Or a sale at the mall. Or...anything really.

So I'll let "awesome" go. RIP, awesome.

I refuse, however, to let go of the following:

1. The pronoun I

I know it has become trendy to say, "Myself and Billy Bob Walter enjoyed the movie. It was awesome."

Myself enjoyed the movie?! I don't think so. I enjoyed the movie. I, I, I. And "me" doesn't work here, either: Me and Billy Bob Walter enjoyed the movie.

No, it's still I, I, I. Me didn't enjoy anything, quite frankly.

2. The possessive form of the pronoun I.

Fred and I's tarantula escaped last night. (Yes, I've actually heard I used this way.)

"I's" tarantula? I don't think so. If my tarantula was caught, though, that's awesome.

3. "Badly" when "bad" is correct. As Lucile Vaughan Payne says so efficiently in The Lively Art of Writing, which was my absolute bible for teaching high school writing for 36 years, "If you feel sick or are unhappy, you feel bad, not badly."

Feeling badly means you're doing a lousy job of running your fingers over something: I tried to feel the soft furriness of the tarantula, but I felt it badly.

What got me going on this rant is actually a television ad that sends both Ken and me (not Ken and I, by the way...sends Ken....sends me...hence, sends Ken and me....) into fits of sputtering each time it comes on. In an ad for car insurance, a lady says she "literally fell out of [her] chair" when the low insurance quotation was given to her. She literally fell out of her chair? I doubt it. I suspect she figuratively fell out of her chair. I've seldom seen anyone fall out of a chair (although my mother did, when I was about 7 or 8. Our family doctor had just given her a shot of cortisone, in her shoulder, and she fainted. Down she went, out of her chair and onto the floor. I thought she'd died before my very eyes.), and I've never seen a person topple over and out when receiving a quotation on car insurance.

My newest gripe in the world of language usage involves another television advertisement, this one for an upcoming home and garden show, to be held at the former Linens 'n' Things store at the Maine Mall. The ad sounds OK if you don't stop to read the screen. There you'll see, big as life, that the show is being held in the space "formally" housed by Linens 'n' Things.

Oh, and there's the Good Shepherd Foodbank in central Maine. Only 50% of the time do the folks who submit this ad to the t.v. stations,...or maybe it's the folks who type the ads that have been submitted to the stations, spell Good Shepherd correctly. Often the name of the foodbank is given as "Good Shepard." Sheep+herder=shepherd. Simple as that.

I know, I know. You think I should find bigger things to worry about. Normally I do, but sometimes I get bothered by the degeneration of the English language. Language, by its very nature (because it's largely oral) is supposed to change over time. It seems to be, though, that it's changing much too quickly lately. And cursive writing? Gone. Or as good as gone. High school students in many schools not only can't write anything in cursive, they can't read anything in cursive, either. I love beautiful cursive writing, but I might as well kiss it good-bye.

I need to go take a walk. The sun's shining, my dog wants to go with me, and my new pedometer just arrived in the mail. Awesome.

Numbers 11 and 12, with socks and lily

Two days ago I finished February Lady Sweater #12. I know, I know, that's a bit of knitting overkill, but really, it's no worse than my friend who knits about 35 pairs of socks per year. At least these twelve sweaters were knit over the course of two or three years. So there.

And look what I stumbled across on the web just yesterday.

Cute, or what? I'll give that pattern a try soon.

The February Lady Sweater was designed AFTER Elizabeth Zimmermann designed the February Baby Sweater. I haven't knit the baby sweater yet but will also give that a try one of these days. Just this morning I found a great list of suggested modifications to the FLS at this site. I'll be eager to incorporate some of these modifications into future FLSes.

As I detox from all of the February Lady Sweater knitting, I've started a pair of men's socks. These are knit with a fine yarn on size 2 needles, so they're a slow go. I love the yarn, though, which is 85% washable wool and 15% nylon, and the leg of the first sock is almost long enough before starting the heel, so I'm cranking right along.

What I should be doing, though, is more spring cleaning and some raking in the flower beds. Yesterday I reluctantly took my rake to one flower garden, started raking, and immediately noticed the wind was gaining momentum. The wind and I battled it out for about an hour before I, with a fresh thumb blister, called a truce and returned to the house...to knit.

The spring cleaning. Well, it's on hold for now, but I'll get back to it one of these days. When I was working, I set a tight schedule for myself to get the spring cleaning done between the two school vacations in February and April, and I stuck to that schedule. I was much better self-disciplined in those days. Of course, back then I wasn't a knitter, so that might have had something to do with the self-discipline.

And really, what's retirement for, if not for doing what you want, when you want? That's my philosophy, anyway.

A couple of days ago, while misting my plants, I noticed a bud on my calla lily. This is cause for rejoicing. My calla lily blossoms about once every five years, whether she needs to or not. I'd had a feeling earlier this year that she just might bloom this spring. I don't know what made me think that, except that her leaves looked happier than usual. Lo and behold, she'd been hiding a secret.

Portland Flower Show 2010

Yesterday we went to the Portland Flower Show in the Portland Company Complex, on the waterfront in Portland.

This year's theme for the show is "Gardens Gone Wild," which has resulted in a very colorful display. Last year's show seemed to be more focused on shrubs and trees, without as many flowers in bloom as I'd hoped to see. This year's show is alive with color.

The first thing I always notice when we walk into the flower show is that rich, pungent smell of warm earth. I don't realize I haven't smelled it for months until I arrive at the show.

As you can see, there are many clever exhibits to enjoy. The gnome house below, by O'Donal's Nursery in Gorham, won Best of Show.

In addition to the garden displays, there are several amazing stonework creations: walls, patio floors, an archway, etc. I would LOVE to have the money to hire a stone mason to create some of the garden accents I saw yesterday.

There are also many vendors at the show: handmade jewelry, soaps and lotions, garden accents, seeds, gardening books, gardeners' supplies, tote bags, potted herbs and flowers (including orchids), etc. The vendors have quality products, so there's no danger of spending too much for a disappointing item.

I came out of the show, into the crisp March air, desperate for spring to arrive. This morning I raked leaves from some of my perennials and discovered several primroses are budded. That gives me hope.

New Hampshire's White Mountains, Part III and Final

Still more photos taken at Potato Barn Antiques....

Ken spotted this beautiful demitasse set and, because we know a little girl named "Violet," said to me, "I know someone who would have fun with that cup and saucer."

I agreed, making a mental not to myself to take it to the register once I'd finished my first look-around.

We were headed home, about 10 miles from the shop, when I suddenly remembered I'd forgotten to go back to get the cup and saucer and purchase it. I'm still kicking myself.

The Potato Barn has a room full of vintage clothing, all neatly displayed.

After we'd been at the shop an hour or so, we decided it was time to head home.

We came back via a different route, taking us along the "back side" of the White Mountains. In the photo below you can see the Observatory more clearly. What a view the folks up there must have had that day, all the way to Portland, Maine, and the Atlantic Ocean, for sure. We drove past the Mount Washington House (now called the Mount Washington Resort and, apparently, owned by Omni Hotels), seen in my banner above, and down through Crawford Notch.

It was a great day's adventure, one that we hadn't taken in many years but one we want to do again before long.

New Hampshire's White Mountains, Part II

I left off my blog Sunday just a few miles from Potato Barn Antiques in Northumberland, NH. As you can see from these photos, we finally reached our destination, and we were not disappointed.

Potato Barn Antiques has multiple dealers, and it's one of the most neatly organized antique shops I've ever visited.

I knew immediately after arriving that I needed to take some photos for my blog, so I asked the shop owner's permission. Sometimes they say no, sometimes they say yes. I was lucky that this shop owner gave me permission.

Neatly displayed jewelry, dolls galore, dishes of all shapes and sizes and vintages,...even a fawn who had visited a taxidermist.

I felt sorry for the fawn and gave it a pat or two. I didn't think to look at its price tag, but now I'm curious to know what someone would have to pay to display a baby fawn in their home. (But why would anyone want to display a baby fawn in their home?)

Hoosier cabinets! I love Hoosier cabinets and would love to have one in my kitchen.

Ken browsed for antique tools. He was disappointed, though, that the prices for the tools were quite high. No bargains to be found in that department, but over all the prices in the shop were reasonable.

I'll share a few more photos in my next post. I can upload only five photos per post, for some reason. Maybe it's because I use Safari as my browser??? I really don't know.

New Hampshire's White Mountains, Part I

Yesterday we'd planned to drive over to Northwood, NH, to do some antiquing at the shops in "Antique Alley," which is a section of Route 4 dotted with antique shops.

When I went online, however, to check to make sure the Northwood shops are open in March, I stumbled across an antique shop with multiple dealers (this term always makes my heart race) in Northumberland, NH.

I asked Ken if he knew where Northumberland, NH, is located. He didn't. We got out our travel atlas, found Northumberland, and before we knew it, our planned one-hour drive had been swapped for a 2 1/2-hour drive up through the White Mountains to within a mile or so of the Vermont border.

It was a beautiful day for seeing the White Mountains; even the summit of Mt. Washington was crystal-clear, which it hadn't been when we've gone to NH in recent months.

Here is a photo of Mt. Washington, taken at Intervale, NH, which is just beyond North Conway. If you double-click on the photo, you should see the Mt. Washington Weather Observatory.

Several years ago we took the auto road to the summit of Mt. Washington. It was a warm autumn day but, not surprisingly, very cold up there. The view, though, was spectacular. Ken says it's hard on a car to drive it to the summit of the mountain, so that's why we've taken the drive only once.

As we drove up through the mountains, we kept coming to areas where dozens of cars were parked by the roadside. These cars had brought winter hikers, snow boarders, Nordic skiers and Alpine skiers for a day in the fresh air and sunshine. We wished we'd brought along our cross-country skis, but we wouldn't have had time for skiing and a visit at the antique shop.

If you double-click on this photo, you'll notice the "Brake for Moose" sign on the right.

We didn't see any moose yesterday, though.

As we travelled across the height of land, the snow was quite deep. Once we arrived on the west side of the White Mountains, near the Vermont border, we noticed only patches of snow, much like we have in Maine right now.

Onward we drove, passing Six-gun City and Santa's Village. Both were closed for the winter months.

Before going to the antique shop, we decided to stop to have lunch at a little settlement between Jefferson and Lancaster. We spotted a small diner/convenience store, so in we went to order an omelet (Ken) and a small meatball sandwich (me.) It wasn't long before we realized everyone in this village knows everyone else.

A man looking to be in his 50's walked in and was immediately greeted by the lady behind the deli counter. "Bill!" she shouted, "What happened to you?"

"What do you mean?" Bill asked.

"You've cleaned up," she replied. Bill chuckled.

Sure enough, Bill was clean-shaven and sporting what looked to be a recent haircut.

My guess is that Bill had a date last night. My other guess is that Bill doesn't usually shave or get his hair cut during the winter months, except for "special occasions."

A couple of men sitting at the table behind us were telling stories of Niagara Falls. One of the men had lived "within sight of the mist from the falls." He started telling funny stories of folks who'd attempted to go over the falls, some succeeding, some failing. He told of one lady decided to go over the falls in a barrel...with her cat. Being in a barrel with a cat would be asking for trouble; going over the Falls with the cat would be sure death, I would think, either by crashing and drowning or by cat claws. I'm not sure which would be worse. Apparently both survived, though, because if you go here, you'll see a photo of the lady, Annie Taylor, her cat, and their barrel.

So that's where I'll leave my travelogue for today. I have more photos and stories saved for the next installment....

Three things

I think it's not an exaggeration to say Ken is a master craftsman. Whatever he builds, he builds to perfection.

This is a tool box for his Model T speedster. He worked on this for weeks, much of the time in an area of the living room, which I won't discuss right now.

The box will hold the T's tools and battery.

If you look closely, you'll see Ken made dovetail joints, which was probably not easy.

The handle and hinges are authentic.

The box is now stained, polished, and placed on the back of the Model T, right where it should be.

Next, for a felted slipper update: The problem of the embedded stitch marker could not be solved. I turned the challenge over to Ken last week, knowing if the marker could be removed without ruining the slipper, Ken would be the man to do it. He immediately said, as he always says, "Let me go get some tools."

He trotted out to his workshop, returned with various tools, worked at the dilemma for quite some time, then declared defeat.

So he pushed the entire stitch marked into the two layers of the slipper's sole, and that's where it will remain. I'm hoping the slipper wearer will not notice it's there. Or, if he does, that he'll jiggle the slipper a bit, making the stitch marker slide to an obscure area where his foot won't notice it.

And finally, I came across an interesting wedding engagement announcement recently.

The announcement reads pretty much as all engagement announcements read, until near the end:

"Jennifer and Mark finally have decided to tie the knot after being assailed with innuendo and comments from their families that broadly hinted it was about time. Additionally, the couple are very clear on the issue of parenthood so never ask them about having children."

Not your run-of-the-mill announcement, huh?