Still alive

Yes, I'm still vertical. I've intended to write a blog post many times in the past three weeks, but somehow I just didn't get to it. That's pretty much what my Christmas preparations were like this year, too: I just didn't get to them. I never did bring the nutcrackers down from the attic and put them on the mantel; I didn't get out any of my Santas; I decorated the tree with about half the usual ornaments.

(I blame all of this on Trump. I've decided it's going to be fun to blame everything imaginable on Trump for the next four years.)

Today I removed the ornaments from the tree. I don't think Ken has noticed that yet. We always disagree as to when the tree should be taken down. I'd like it down at 12:01 a.m. on December 26, ideally, but Ken wants the tree to stay up until after New Year's Day. I decided to remove the decorations today, without consulting Ken, and I'll be interested to see when he notices that they're gone. If he still wants to leave it up until after January 1, that's fine with me. My work, at least, is done.

We spent Christmas Eve with Jim and Lynn. Their son Karl was there with his wife Dani and little girl Liv. It's been our tradition for years to be at Jim and Lynn's on Christmas Eve, and we always enjoy our time there. Liv provided added entertainment this year, of course. She's a sweetie. She enjoyed sitting at the piano with her Grammy Lynn and belting out a fine rendition of "The Wheels on the Bus." I predict all three of Lynn's grandchildren will play the piano one day, because that's the first thing they ask to do with Lynn when they arrive at her house.

We had a White Christmas, and we knew quite certainly that we would several days in advance. Now our snow is looking old and tired after a rain storm a couple of days ago, but not to worry:  a Nor'easter is headed our way even as I type. It should arrive tomorrow morning and give us 8"-10" of new snow.

This was our tree, pre-nakedness.

I put some of my cold porcelain and salt dough ornaments and tags on our coffee table, thinking they made a nice little attraction there.


Then I noticed one or two had mysteriously disappeared.

Then I realized the culprit was, of course, Sage.

The basket of ornaments is now up high where she can't get them and no one can see them.

My favorite gift that I gave this year was a Chatbook for Violet. I filled it with photos of her various visits with us since she was two years old.

Most of the photos are from her sleepovers with us, and our many adventures together during those visits.

I'm not sure the photobook means all that much to her now, but I suspect it will someday.

And speaking of Violet, I'll pick her up tomorrow morning so she can do a two-night sleepover with us. I've bought a new flying saucer, so I'm sure much of the visit will be spent sledding on our back hill.

Done! (I hope)

The  Neck-down V-neck Shaped cardigan by Knitting Pure and Simple, which a friend asked me to knit for her adult daughter, is done. Done, I tell you.

It took me two weeks of intense knitting, usually at least three hours per day, to get 'er done. (I even knit while Ken drove us to our nephew's house for Thanksgiving dinner.)

Then, once it was done, I agonized over the sleeve lengths, so I raveled the sleeves back from the cuffs about two inches and re-knit them, adding an extra inch of length to each.

Of course, now I'm worried that the sleeves are too long. If they are, I can ravel them yet again and decrease some of that extra length. Then I'll worry that they are once again too short.

One thing I absolutely cannot do is re-knit the body of the sweater. No, spre That was a LOT of knitting, and I don't want to  repeat any of it.

In the top two photos you see the miracle that is called "blocking." In the first photo, that's the cardigan as it came off my needles.

I soaked it for an hour in cool water with Eucalan added.

I spread it out on my blocking boards, which are actually children's play mat squares, and let it dry for two days.


(That's when I decided the sleeves were too short, so here I am re-knitting the cuff end of each sleeve.)

After that, I placed the sweater on my ironing board, placed an ironing cloth over it, and gently steamed the entire thing. The yarn is an acrylic/wool blend, so I wasn't going to chance accidentally placing my iron directly onto the sweater and watching my gazillion stitches melt before my eyes.

I added my personalized knitting label, to make my work look a tad more professional.

Then I folded it carefully, with tissue paper within the folds.

I placed it inside a box, added a jute bow and one of my cold porcelain stars for pizzazz, and declared myself now able to attend to some of the much-neglected Christmas preparations in this house.

I hope Anne likes the sweater and is pleased with my work. Better yet, I hope Sarah, the sweater's recipient, declares it a perfect fit.

Knitting angst

In mid-October, at an Alpha Delta Kappa state luncheon, I happened to wear a cardigan I'd knit for myself about six years ago.

It's the Neck-down V-neck Shaped cardigan by Knitting Pure and Simple.

One of my A∆K sisters admired the cardigan, asked if I'd knit it, and asked if I might be able to knit one for her daughter, Sarah, for Christmas.

I said I could, since I was already familiar with the pattern and I needed a bigger project than knitting winter hats. (I've been knitting winter hats all fall.)

A few weeks went by and I heard no more about my knitting a sweater for Sarah.

Then, about 1 1/2 weeks ago, Anne contacted me to see if I still had time to knit the cardigan. (She'd shown Sarah a photo taken at the state luncheon, a photo of us "girls," and, of course, I'm wearing my sweater. Sarah told her mother she'd like to have a sweater like that one.)

I said yes.

I saw Anne at an A∆K meeting last Tuesday evening, and she gave me the yarn she'd selected for the project.

I cast on the next morning. This was an exciting project, I told myself, because Sarah is one of my former students, a really lovely girl, and I'd love to create for her a cardigan she is proud to wear.

Then the fears set in. Oh, boy, the fears.

First I feared that although I'd checked my gauge carefully (and I almost never check the gauge when I'm knitting for myself), this cardigan would be way, way too large.

Once I got beyond that fear, I started worrying about its opposite: The sweater would be way, way too small.

By yesterday I'd made enough progress to compare the new sweater with my original one. Sarah's is to be a size small; mine is a size medium.

When I placed Sarah's partial sweater on top of my completed one, I calmed down a little. Sarah's is a bit smaller than mine, but it's not ideal for a six-year-old. Phew.

So now I'm forging ahead. Although it's a simple pattern, as the design suggests, it's time-consuming. I'd like to have it done by December 6, so I can take it to our A∆K Christmas party and give it to Anne in time for her to give it to Sarah at Christmas.

Fingers crossed!

A Sage update

So how is Sage doing, you ask? Or, more important, how are we doing since Sage moved in with us?

We've had Sage now for 3 1/2 months. We adopted her through New England Lab Rescue on the last Saturday of July. She was almost seven months old when she became ours; she'll be one year old on January 6.

Of course we went through a honeymoon period of, oh, a few days. Sage had us hoodwinked. I even remember telling Ken I sure wish we'd adopted her when she was only seven weeks old, because she was such a good puppy and I felt bad that we'd missed out on her early weeks and months of life.

Then Sage began feeling comfortable in her new home with her new parents. Comfortable, indeed.

So comfortable, in fact, that here she is sitting in the wing-backed chair, which I specifically told her was off-limits.

Pretty though, isn't she?

She's a very loving dog, and she's certainly attached to us. If Ken leaves the house without her, she fusses; if I leave the house without her, she fusses.

I designated the far end of the sofa to be her end; the near end of the sofa was to be mine. I put a cushion in the middle of the sofa as a "line of demarcation."

Like that would impress her, right?! When she wants to get onto the sofa, she wedges herself in between the cushion and me. The far end of the sofa remains vacant.

By October we decided obedience training could not be avoided: too much jumping up, too much counter-surfing.

We've now completed four of the six Saturdays of training, and we're seeing improvement. If you want to know the truth, the improvement is more a matter of our being consistent with our expectations than it is with Sage knowing what not to do.

Sage and I take a long walk each morning, theoretically to wear some of the hyperactivity out of her.

Usually it doesn't work, but I enjoy our walks together, and I think Sage does, too.

Sage absolutely adores our wood stove. That's where she is right now, in fact, instead of here in my study with me.

See Pink Piggy under the stove? Pink Piggy has now gone to Stuffed Dog Toy Heaven. So have many other stuffed toys. It's all about removing the squeaker then dismantling the rest of the animal seam by seam. Sage is an expert at eviscerating and de-limbing.

My nephew Kevin visited us with his family recently, and Sage, as  you can see, was in her glory all evening.



But the stuffed animals beside her here? All deceased.

Sage enjoys watching me work in the kitchen. She's usually in the way, but I just step over her rather than call attention to her blocking my path.

I took this photo of Sage a couple of days ago. She was lounging on our bed, watching me clean the bathroom. I loved the contrast of her sleek, pure black coat and her green ball. She set up the shot herself; all I did was grab my iPad.

She's a beauty, all right. She's gradually getting us trained.

Fair season

I started last week with a root canal procedure on Monday, and things only got worse.

I voted on Tuesday with high hopes of my presidential candidate winning, but we all know how that ended.

On Wednesday I had my annual physical, confessed to two episodes of a "tightness in my chest in the middle of the night," and now face wearing a Holter one day this coming week and also having a stress test. I told my doctor I wish I'd kept my mouth shut. He said he knew that's how I was feeling.

(I suspect my heart is fine, but since my father and one brother died of heart attacks, I know I should err on the side of caution.)




Thursday and Friday I was still grieving the outcome of the elections, but otherwise, those days were fine. Wait a minute: No they weren't! My mouth was still recovering from the root canal. Having a dentist's fist in your mouth, along with various dental equipment, for 1 1/2 hours, leaves a mouth feeling quite assaulted for several days afterwards.

Then came Saturday: Church holiday fair season!

I enjoy attending the fair at St. Anne's Catholic Church in Gorham.

Two of my exercise friends, Ed and Kathy, belong to that church, and Ed assembles and furnishes a doll house for a raffle at the fair each year.

Ed outdid  himself this year. The Victorian doll house was a sight to behold. I bought a raffle ticket, thinking if I won, I'd give the doll house to my friend Lynn for her three grandchildren.

I didn't win.

I did manage to bring home some chocolate fudge for Ken and me, however. Sort of ironic, considering my need for dental work this past week, now that I think about it.



My mouth has recuperated from the root canal.

I'm still working on accepting the election outcome. Accepting, but not supporting.

A check-off on my bucket list

Ken asked me last Tuesday evening what I'd like for my birthday. (My birthday was the next day, and Ken is not one to plan too far ahead.)

I told him the honest truth: I wanted a pair of LL Bean boots. The signature LL Bean boots, the ones developed by LL himself over 100 years ago.

I've seen Ken wear LL Bean boots since the beginning of our marriage. I've seen many Mainers wear LL Bean boots, both men and women.

Now that I'm 71 years old, I figured it was time I, too, wore LL bean boots.

So we went up to Freeport on my birthday and looked for a pair of LL Bean woman's boots.

We began, and ended, our search in the LL Bean Outlet store, across the main street from the flagship store.

(One should always start their LL Bean shopping at one of their outlet stores if one is at all interested in saving money. I'm always interested in saving money. I'm a Yankee and Scottish, for crying out loud. I can't help myself.)

There, near the back of the outlet, beckoning to me, were my very own LL Bean boots, regularly $119, but with a $105 outlet price. But that day the LL Bean boots in the outlet store were an additional 20% off, so I'm now the proud owner of a pair of LL Bean woman's boots for a mere $80.

I haven't worn them yet. I'm waiting for colder weather, maybe some snow as icing on the cake. Then I'll don my brand spanking new LL Bean boots, after donning a pair of my hand knit socks, and take Sage out for a nice walk. And when Violet visits in February during school vacation, I'll put on my LL Bean boots, attach my LL Bean snowshoes to them, and walk in the deep snow (I hope it's deep) as Violet slides down our hillside. Between these two occasions I'll wear my LL Bean boots anywhere I damn well please. Because I'm 71 now, and I'm a Mainer.

To say we're an LL Bean family is an understatement. (By the way, I am not being compensated for extolling the many virtues of LL Bean products. This is an entirely unsolicited endorsement.)

The quality is always top-notch, their service is excellent, their return policy can't be matched.

Since  our credit card is through LL Bean, I collect LL Bean coupons at the end of each month and redeem them toward purchases throughout the year.

Early each morning, year round, as I sit down to my morning coffee and a browse on the internet, one of the first sites I visit is www.llbean.com/llb/shop/504987?page=sale-daily-markdown

At 6:00 a.m. I check out that morning's daily markdown item, and after 2:00 p.m. I check it again. I've found some excellent bargains that way. Just yesterday I ordered Ken, who loves vests in the winter, a handsome lambswool sweater vest at the Daily Markdown site: regularly $129, marked down to $69.99 for 8 hours only, but with $40 of my charge card coupons tossed into the mix, with a final price of $33. And it'll be shipped to me for free; and it'll arrive by this Tuesday. And best of all: It's machine washable!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The cardigan photo positioned sideways above? A lovely birthday gift last evening from our good friends Jim and Lynn.

The black pants above? Pants I absolutely could not live with on exercise days at the town's community building. They're the LL Bean Perfect Fit pant. I bet I own a dozen pairs.

Here's an LL Bean jacket.

More LL Bean jackets.

An LL Bean pink and white blouse. It says "wrinkle resistant" on the neckline label, and boy, is that the truth.


My LL Bean winter walking shows from Santa last year.

My LL Bean chocolate Lab slippers. I've loved these slippers almost to death, as you can see.

And these shoes? They were an outlet purchase many, many years ago. They're as ugly as sin, I fear, but I don't care. They're comfortable, they have a rubberized, all-weather sole, and I'm 71.

Autumn colors

I wish I'd taken my phone with me when I went to exercise class one morning over a week ago. On that morning the sky was clear blue, the sun was shining, and these trees looked spectacular.

I had to settle for taking my phone along on the next exercise day, when the sky was overcast and it had rained during the night.

The colors of the leaves were still quite bold and beautiful, though.

Now the leaves have fallen. I checked out this tree two days ago, and it's as naked as a jaybird.

Wild Turkeys

I take a walk pretty much every day. By "walk," I mean at least a couple of miles, usually more.

Frequently on my walk (with Sage) I spot wild turkeys, the Meleagris gallopavo silvestris. (That term I just found by googling "wild turkey." I didn't want you to think I'm a connoisseur of wild turkeys.) This area has several flocks of them.

For awhile recently, a flock of twenty was residing in the trees behind/beside our house. In the mornings we'd see them swoop down to earth after spending the night in the trees, away from predators. Once back on the ground, they began their daily ritual of roaming the neighborhood. This fall them seemed to enjoy eating seeds from the wild grasses beside the roads.

One time I wasn't aware a flock of wild turkeys was sauntering across our front lawn. I was standing at the kitchen sink, looking out, when a turkey, visible only from the neck up, went past the window. That sight gave me a start for a moment. Turkeys will never be accused of being beautiful.

This summer I got into the habit of picking up any turkey feathers I'd find while walking along the roadside.

When I got back home, I'd stick the latest feather in with the others in the flower pot of Swedish ivy and geraniums beside our kitchen door.

The Swedish ivy and geraniums will soon be history. This morning's temperature was in the mid-30's.

And the turkeys, I suppose, are about to seek their winter habitat deep in the woods. Turkey hunting season in Maine is in May and early June, so they have plenty of time to fatten up. I don't know a soul who hunts wild turkeys, though.

Sisters

Yesterday was a beautiful autumn day with a clear blue sky and warm temperatures.

I left my house at 8:15, drove up to Topsham to pick up sister #1, then drove on to Boothbay to pick up sister #2.

I don't know when was the last time the three of us sisters spent time together, just the three of us.

We wanted lobster rolls for lunch, so first we looked around Boothbay Harbor for a likely place. We didn't find what we were looking for, so we then drove out to East Boothbay.

Bingo! We stopped at the East Boothbay General Store and, as you can see from their menu above, found lobster rolls.

Here's mine: 1/3 pound of delicious, fresh lobster meat nestled in the tasty roll.

After lunch, we then headed onward to Ocean Point.

I parked my car, and we walked along the pebbly beach for quite awhile.

After our pockets were weighted with sea glass and a few interesting rocks, we called it a day.

My two sisters and my thumb pose for a photo. 

I'm the "baby" of the family of six. Two of my brothers have died, so that leaves my two sisters, one brother, and me.

Here I am with my older sister. A kinder person you'd never find.

So it was a good day. I'm glad we were able to spend some time together.