Monthly Archives: June 2007

got milk?

Now that I’m off deadline, I’m hardly in the office. We’ve had all sorts of wonderful adventures I’m going to share with you next week. In the meantime, I’ll leave you with a heartwarming — and slightly gross — photo of a brand-newborn calf and his momma.

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Note the crow off to the right just waiting to get a tasty meal of bovine placenta. Mmmmm….

He was born yesterday afternoon, just minutes before we drove by and snapped his portrait. He stood there shakily, bawling as he tried to poo. I can relate.

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Incommunicado

I’ve had a particularly dreadful deadline this month, which explains not only the lack of new posts but the big ol’ cold sore that popped out on my lip. Ack! Anyhoo, I’ll have a longer post on Wednesday — we’re going into The City tomorrow . . . for FUN! — but I’ve got to leave you with a little reunion souvenir. My friend sent me a group shot — who are all those old people anyway? — and this portion struck me as funny. Do these guys know how to hold their beers, or what?

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Throw Me A Lifeline

About a half a round after starting ball 2 of 4 of Latoya, I came across this.

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Unfortunately, it was right in the middle of a stockinette section so it would be quite ugly to have this big ol’ knot popping out. Note my fuzzy lapwarmer.

Yesterday, I was really whipping out the acreage at Uknitty when I realized I goofed on one of the ribs on the front – I was off by one stitch. Luckily, it was only for a few rows but it was definitely noticeable enough to frog. I don’t frog easily so you have to know this looked bad, even though I failed in my bloggerly duties and forgot to take a pic.

With all the talk and visiting, I just put Latoya away and waited till I could really concentrate on running a lifeline.

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I’ve never had to frog quite so much with such a ‘complicated’ pattern. I was a little nervous but it worked out perfectly! I’ve already made up the lost ground, even with some fuzzy help.

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Bovine Bonanza

My Secret Pal sent me another package of goodies. This one was decidedly beef-flavored: Cow card, “Eat mor chikin” cow from Chick-fila, magnets, post-its, key chains and a couple of the inevitable cow crap items: The Original Cow Pie (delish!) and a jar of — ah hem — Cow Poop. These turned out to be chocolate covered sunflower seeds and they were delish too!

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Hubbo was bored until I started pulling candy out of the box. Then he became very interested. But I got to it first!

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This bushel of bovine booty was Nosy1’s way of telling me where she’s from. You see, this sneaky little stitcher sent me packages and postcards from all over the friggin’ place so it was impossible to pinpoint her location. (Just in case I was too dense to get it, she tossed in a spoiler: a beer mug with ‘Wisconsin’ on it.) She said that California and Wisconsin battle for the Dairy State title, which is silly. I mean, everyone knows California is home to happy cows!

When not obsessing about being stood up in high school, I’ve been tearing up Latoya.

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Actually, I made another goof but I think it’ll work out. The traveling rib was made by decreasing the front ribbing. I was supposed to then knit the pattern straight until the piece measured 4″. But I read ‘knit another 4″.’ I caught it after 2″ — the piece measures 5″ — and thought about frogging back an inch but thought better of it. I’m starting the waist shaping so, instead of decreasing every inch, I’ll do it every 3/4″ or so and the total length will be close ’nuff!

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Poor Poor Pitiful Me

My 20 year high school reunion is this weekend. I’ve bitched at great length mentioned it before and, since it’s looming, it’s been on my mind. Plus, I got an email from an old friend who will be attending. She’s a sweetheart and consoled my insecure soul by relating that she too had to find out about it the hard way.

Yesterday, just before dashing off to the airport, she sent me a note about a Yahoo email group for our class. Wha?! Again, I felt like the ugly stepchild. The last to get asked to dance. Always stood up. Poor poor pitiful me.

Hubbo heard about it all night and said the sweetest thing ever: “I’m sorry.” I think that’s the first time he’s ever just let me rant and not tried to fix it. That’s progress, people!

Aaaanyhooters, this situation actually affected my dreams. I was part of a group that didn’t really want me. They sorta had to take me (can’t recall why) but made it clear they didn’t like me. Can you say insecure? Can you say therapy? Sheesh!

You’d think that 20 years later, I’d be over all that BS. I’d say “Nerts to them!” I’d know that they’d be really happy to hear from me. Instead, even though I was reasonably popular, I think none of them like me. I think none of them have grown like I have. I think they’re all the same petty, spiteful little beasts they were in school. It’s so ridiculous that I’m embarrassed to write it but it appears from my ranting and dreaming that this is how I feel deep down. In other words, insecure.

Now here’s the topper: I just got a Classmates.com email from a guy who went to our school for our senior year only. We made out once at our graduation party and he asked me out. I got all dolled up and waited for him to show. And waited and waited and waited. Finally, I cried. Not because my heart was broken but because I was humiliated.

And now this guy who I figured never thought of me once in the last 20 years — he obviously thought I was an ugly pig dog, after all (even though I was thin and pretty) — sends me an email. Honestly, I wanted to reach through the computer and slap his mullet-topped face for standing me up 20 years ago. Then I felt a little like crying — still do. Then I sent him a pleasant “Hey, I’m really happy to hear from you” kind of response.

Now that’s progress.

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Pfffftht!

I normally carry a camera with me at all times. Sorta goes with the job. But last night, when I got home, Hubbo asked when I wanted to go for a sail, before or after dinner. A quick snack later, and we were bobbing off in our little sailing dinghy sans camera. Luckily, I’d forecasted that we might be bobbing for quite awhile due to a complete lack of wind, so I brought Latoya along for company. “There’s no knitting while you’re sailing!” Hubbo exclaimed. “Pffftht to that!” Indeed, I made nearly an inch of progress during that lazy sail but no pix.

I do have pix of some mystery yarn my big bro gave me for my birthday.

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It’s 100% wool, hand spun and hand dyed, and he picked it up at a local farmers market. What I love most about it is that when Bro saw it, he said “That’s LaDonna.” And it is. I absolutely loooove the colors and can’t wait to knit with it. But, as I told my SIL, I have to be inspired. I think it’ll end up being felted as it’s way too scratchy to wear but that’s all I know at this point.

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WILD TANGENT: It’s been absolutely beautiful here the last few days. Not your normal Sausalito weather — foggy, windy and surprisingly cold — but sunny, fogless and in the 80s. Of course, being the greenie that I am (heh hem), I’ve been biking to work. No, it has absolutely nothing to do with my ever-growing arse, not at all. I’m just being environmental. Yup.

Aaaaanyhooters, I must have had a great big cheesy smile (or a big booger) on my face on the way home last night because nearly every single person on the bike/walk trail smiled right back. These are the days and the reasons I love living here.

Here’s a reason why sometimes I really don’t love it here:

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The feeling of entitlement some people have in Marin County is truly mind boggling. “I can’t fit my enormous Hummer in a regular parking space so I’m just gonna park in the fire lane — screw everyone else, including fire trucks.” I see it all the time and it drives me to distraction.

But then I come home to this:

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Totally Pawesome

Aaaaah. I’ve finally found the rhythm and I’m groovin’ with Latoya. On Friday night, Hubbo went sailing with a friend (racing, actually) so I had a some uninterrupted alone time to retackle this little bee-atch. I checked every single row before starting the next, just to make sure I hadn’t Moebius’ed it. Now I’m confidently chugging along!


Can you spot my boo-boo? Luckily, it’s really only visible on the wrong side.

I’m thrilled at how much progress I made over the weekend. Especially considering that most of Saturday was spent racing on this same friend’s sailboat. I’d hoped to take a few shots but I was kept waaaaaaaaaaaay too busy. If you’ve never trimmed a spinnaker in a race, you haven’t lived (and you probably don’t have a sore neck from looking up, and sore hands from your death grip on the sheet, and your butt probably still doesn’t ache, even though it’s two days later . . .). Anyhooters, I hoped to get in a few rounds Saturday night but I was too exhausted and my hands hurt too badly for much knitting.


This color is much more accurate.

For the first time in weeks, I made it to U-Knitty yesterday. It’d been so long that I only recognized one gal (shout-out to Arlene)! It was lovely meeting the new ladies and catching up with everyone else who came after me. Laurie’s going to place a bulk order for some scrumptious (I’m not kidding) possum/merino yarn from New Zealand. She was making a sock yesterday and I just about died from the softness. She says it’s really really warm (it’s hollow), highly durable and comes in some yummy colors.

Reading up on this yarn was an education. First of all, the Australian Brushtail Possum is different from what we Yanks call “Possums”. The Pozzum (Oz Possum, get it?) is a marsupial (not a rodent) and was introduced to NZ in the early 19th century for the fur trade. As the fur trade fell off, the pozzums increased greatly in numbers, threatening indigenious species, selectively targeting plant species, eating endangered bird species, spreading bovine tuberculosis, etc. Pozzums are to New Zealand what rabbits are to Australia — a blight.

With no natural predators, pozzums are literally getting away with murder so conservationists are trying to bring their numbers under control. The only way to do that is to ‘humanely collect’ feral animals. Ok, so they’re killing the little buggers. This doesn’t bother me as I’m no vegetarian but I know some folks might get irked by this turn of events. Here’s the conundrum: The Kiwi government is rightly trying to keep indigenious (and endangered) species going strong but ‘invasive’ species wreak havoc on those attempts. What then to do with the ‘invasive’ pozzums? Honestly, I think it’s brilliant to market the fur — increase demand of it and the population of the destructive critter will decrease (the desired result). I for one will happily buy the supersoft and durable yarn while wearing my leather shoes and eating an In N Out burger!

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