she's just saying...

Keep your balls cozy

Look! I knitted a softball cozy!

It's supposed to be an apple cozy but it came out a little big.  Kathi D, do you have any baseballs needing sweaters?

Two years down. Only 37 more to go!

I decided when I hit 90, I'm going to stop blogging. I'm sure by then we won't be typing anymore, just dictating or mind-melding or whatever new technology the future brings.

I blew past my blogiversary 11 days ago (April 8, a day that will live in infamy). I guess as Monkey said, it's not quite as exciting anymore. Or, to put a more upbeat spin on it, it's now such a part of my daily life that I don't think about it as a milestone to celebrate.

I want to thank y'all for reading, commenting, linking, reposting, lurking and all the other things you do to show your interest in my effort. I always write with you guys in mind, challenging me to keep it funny, light, thoughtful, goofy, ridiculous and always ENTERTAINING. You're insatiable, really. The pressure! Anyway, thanks.

So, in the long tradition of blogiversaries, I'm offering another contest to the faithful. All you have to do is comment on this post, be that lucky slip of paper in the hat and wait for your prize. Every comment gets a chance and FIRST TIME commenters get two chances each. And Kathi D wins a prize for most prolific commenter, just because.

And the prize? 

An absolutely adorable apple jacket! Keep those Cortlands cozy in their very own snuggly sweater.

I'm giving away two of these babies so ping me back with a cogent comment and cross your fingers.

Drawing will take place Friday night after a round of gimlets. As the lama says, you must be present to win.

PS: Facebook comments don't count toward a prize...

Confessions of a sleepaholic.

Mmmmm, sleep. What is more delicious than sleep, really?

Last year was a personally challenging period as I dragged myself through repeated breakups and eye surgeries. Sleep was my refuge and reward. I started going to bed earlier and sleeping later until I was up to about nine and a half hours a night.  Sometimes nothing was worth staying up for, sometimes it was my escape from obligations, sometimes I was just very tired. But it got me through the year in a relatively stable state of mind.

This year I have no good excuses, but now I'm hooked on it. And I have no interest in kicking the habit.

I'm a really good sleeper. I fall asleep within two minutes of hitting the pillow and don't wake up until  Flash's senior-dog bladder kicks in, the alarm goes off or cats start sitting on my chest. On the weekends, I get up, throw them all out and go back to sleep for another hour or two. I guard my sleep time and don't let anything interfere. Henry has learned to his peril not to wake me NO MATTER WHAT. Last night I slept over 10 hours. And I can't wait to get back to bed!

I don't think I'm suffering from depression or a low-grade illness. I just enjoy sleep, and it seems the more I get the more I want. (Isn't that the first sign of addiction?)

Kathi D says that getting a lot of sleep is the latest trend. (Her latest blog post is titled "Sleep is the new awake," a great title IMO). Who knew? I feel mildly disappointed that my recent obsession with sleep is just another car on the trendtrain, but that happens when you're smack in the middle of the baby boom. Nothing we do is original, ever.

I might feel slightly bad about all the time I "waste" asleep, except that I credit it for my mental and physical health. It's the only pleasure I indulge in that's actually good for me. 

I figure I'll eventually get enough, and will find a more balanced equilibrium between sleep and awake. But for now, I'm going to bed. Sleep tight and sweet dreams.

Nativity

OMG. Thank you, Kathi D, for pointing out this blog.

This is my favorite pic so far...

Nativity

A meta-comment comment

It has come to my attention that some blog readers are unaware that there is a place where they and other readers can read and leave comments regarding posts.

See down there under this post where it says in 6-pt. type: "Comments"? Just click that to open a whole new world of blogging richness.

In regard to my own blog, most of the comments are actually funnier than the original post so you're definitely missing out if you don't read them.

For example, regarding Bend Broadband's new slogan: 

Liana said...

My first impression of that motto was that it makes it sound like they are being "forced" to do a good job. Like they wouldn't be under pressure to do quite as good a job if they weren't serving locals. ...

Would it be any better if they changed it to "We the local dog..."?

Ha!

And in regard to my recent brush with the law,

Kathi D said...

I would never speed. Or break the law in any which way. No, never.

To which I say:

Right.

See what you've been missing?

You know who you are...

To all my blog readers and FaceBook friends:

Thank you so much for the birthday wishes, encouragement and random comments you've sent my way. If I don't personally acknowledge them, please know that I appreciate each morsel and think of you when I read yours. In the ferris wheel of my life, commenting on comments is one task that I have to eschew, along with taking back cans for a nickel, brushing my pets and cataloging my knitting needles. 

So this will have to stand for my personal thank you and tip o' the ol' blogging cap to regulars, occasionals and even the lurkers out there in web world.

[Unless you're Kathi D., a blogger I've never met or spoken to who somehow got her own category for heaven's sake.]

manual red-eye correction

Spud.

I'm primarily a perennials gardener. I never fall for the "color spot" annuals and don't specialize in roses or lilies or begonias, in spite of my horticultural heritage. I've also never gotten serious about vegetables.

To get good veggie results in Central Oregon you have to dedicate your spring to babying seeds and starts in a greenhouse, setting up walls'o'water, running out to protect crops from frost in August, and  fighting off the birds and bugs. It's a very short season and doesn't seem worth it to me.

However, in the past I have produced some tomatoes, a pumpkin, two eggplants and bushels of parsley and mint, which appear to be my specialty. (I also try and fail every year to grow arugula - it's a mythic struggle.) But today I can raise my head proudly and declare myself a farmer: I have grown a potato.

I don't actually remember planting potatoes, but occasionally when one starts to sprout in the vegetable bin I take it out and stick it in the ground. While harvesting parsley this morning, I pulled up what I thought was a weed and found a small red potato at the other end. 

I can't describe the awe and pride I felt when I held it up. Any suburbanite can grow tomatoes and zucchini, but to produce a potato seems like an authentic farmer-type accomplishment.

I think I'll steam it in a (tiny) pan and eat it with butter and salt and pepper.

Note to Kathi D.: no need to be flaunting your Cali harvest abbondanza - we're talking high desert here!

Has she no shame, no sense of decency?

The perpetrator of this animal abuse shall not be identified (hint: rhymes with golly gee!) but she knows who she is. 

She claims she's reformed, but her previous behavior belies a pattern: minnie mouse, yankee doodle polo shirts, and who knows what else she hasn't dared to share.

 I'm starting a letter-writing protest campaign.

dead deer dilemma

Well, Kathi D might have her dead squirrel problem, but here in the forests of Central Oregon, we have a dead deer problem. Or at least my friend Tina does.

Seems a deer wandering through her backyard just curled up and died under a tree. The family discovered it yesterday and is at a loss on how to dispose of it. Suggestions are flying on Facebook, including several who think it could be donated for venison (it's only been dead about 24 hours.) Times are tough here.

Here's Tina's cry for help:

FREE BEER !! Yes, that's right. Just come over and help us move a dead deer from our back yard into the truck. That's all. Because ain't no one in the city of Bend or ODFW going to do it for you. Deer in your yard? Well, it's your deer now. But both agencies I called sheepishly said: "Well, if it happens to find its way onto a public road, then ...." The problem is GETTING A DEAD F%#@ING DEER INTO A TRUCK. Ewww.

Now that's living in the wild.

what's it going to take

Hmmm. Y'all are very sparse on comments lately. (Except for the ever-faithful Kathi D. We bloggers have to stick together, ya'know.) What's up? Bored? Disenfranchised? Suddenly shy?

Maybe I need some more stimulating posts. How about a dead tortoise on an ant hill? That's the ticket!

What, you say you need grosser photos? Well, here you go:  

PS: to all of you lovely cooks who landed here looking for zucchini risotto recipes, I apologize. Quite a shock, I can imagine. Just avert your eyes and scroll down five or six posts. It's worth it, really.

In which I direct you to a much funnier blog

Stop what you're doing (which would be reading my blog) and run, hop or flutter over to this post from my reciprocal blog pal Kathi D.

Most. Hilarious. Post. Ever. Involving chickens, sex, aprons, camo, Madonna and dogs.

(Given those words above in one post, my blog traffic could get really interesting.)

Here's a hint:

Go enjoy. You will eventually come back here, right?

the very latest in poultrywear

With fear and trepidation, I bring you a knitted chicken garment pattern. (Not a knitted chicken, but a knitted pattern for a chicken).

(For my newer readers, some back story: this blog catapulted in hits through search results after I re-published a BBC article about a woman who knit capes for rescued chickens. Much of my traffic comes from all those chicken-loving knitters out there, most of whom appear to live in England.)

I've never actually knitted fowlwear myself, nor am I a poultry farmer, unlike my blog friend Kathi D. (Gratuitous Kathi D plug here.)

However, since I seem to be a clearinghouse for the info, here's a free pattern. This knitter makes shawls for young chicks, and as she says, "the front two corners are tacked together, because chickens can’t use shawl pins."

Pretty cute, actually:

Now I just sit back and watch my traffic stats climb again.

Unfortunately, Melissa has nothing else to say

Via Kathi D (whose blog I keep telling you to start reading, for crying out loud), who stole it from someone else, who got it somewhere, etc. comes this mindless meme. (To my sister: a blog "meme" is a random game bloggers steal from someone else and call it a meme so they don't have to give anyone credit. It's a prime desperation move when you have nothing else to blog about.)

The "unfortunately" meme: go to Google, type your name and the word unfortunately in quotations, and share the results.

So here goes. I picked only the good ones to share - most of them are pretty damn depressing, actually. I ignored the fatal diseases and The Bachelor references:

---

Unfortunately, Melissa’s head would be the only thing I hit all day.

Unfortunately, Melissa is spotted by the killers, who are hit man Bruno Decker and his employer Rudolph Hartman, who turns out to be Walter's client.

Unfortunately, Melissa couldn't keep all her food in her mouth and off her chin.

Unfortunately, Melissa was a bad doll, a very bad doll.

Unfortunately, Melissa took her actions as hostile, and attempted to kill her.

Unfortunately, Melissa is very disorganized and is usually late and so this does not help her in her difficult quest. [Who told them??]

Unfortunately, Melissa is frequently adulterated with other aromas like lemongrass, lemon or citronella.

---

Well, I enjoyed that. So go try it and have some mindless laughs on me. 

From a random blog:

"Charlotte loves the water. Melissa loves the pigs and has bathed them and cleaned up after them the last couple of days.  Chris said she could pick up Charlotte without a squeal.  Unfortunately, Melissa was at work tonight, otherwise I’d have a picture of that."

Darn it.

As the French say, "comment?"

Hey! I think this qualifies as a  on Friday post!

Just when I think nobody but fowl-wear fetishists read this blog, I get some great comments on my posts. The posts I think will get lots of comments often don't, but other random ones stir my readers up.

Hear's a shout-out (do people still say that?) to my most common commenters:

Kathi D. She always entertains, she gets me, she's a great commenter and blogger, and her blog is my must-read every day.

YrBigBro, aka Steveh, aka Henry's uncle, aka any number of aliases. He was an early reader and a frequent and generous commenter.

Susan, my big sis. Occasionally ascerbic, but always honest and thoughtful.

Chris the Monkey, who does witty and elaborate photo illustrations on his own blog; even if he is a Yankees fan.

Elise and Jen, Bend women compadres who I never see but am in touch with via facebook, twitter, blogs and the like.

PJ, Sarah, Julie and Cindy, wonderful knitters and wonderful friends.

Together, the above folk account for probably 90% of my comments, and I hope I show up on their blogs as much.

Everybody else, please say hi now and then! Clearly bloggers are narcissists and attention-seekers; otherwise we wouldn't be broadcasting our blatherings to the interwebs. So we love knowing you're out there.

my sister knows my weaknesses

PS: I forgot KG! but that would make 11, so I wouldn't get my Top Ten tag. Hey, Kevin, thanks for reading/commenting! One of my first!  And your dad says hi.

The British Empire, and her chicken thing.

You may not know that I can track my blog traffic from online search engines. Roughly half my visitors find me through the search phrase "knitted chicken jumpers." (I hate to even type those words again, but whatever, I like traffic.) Almost all of it from various little villages in England.

Obviously, there's a great interest in fowl outerwear there. Is it because so many chickens have been defeathered? Is it due to a great love of flightless birds in general? Is it code for some kinky fetish? What's the deal???

It's clear I should design a knitting pattern and post it on my blog, to drive up my traffic count for one thing. I could resize the whippet sweater...

I'm not going to link to the original story that got me to this point -- just check out the popular search to the right if you must. I'm kind of bored with the whole thing, frankly, and you probably are too.

However, for those who like their poultry live, I'm happy to share some little-known facts about these birds, courtesy of the wildlife curator at the High Desert Museum:

1. A chicken will lay bigger and stronger eggs if you change the lighting in such a way as to make them think a day is 28 hours long. [Kathi D: be sure to tell us how this works for you]
2. The chicken can travel up to nine miles an hour.
3. There are seven distinct types of combs on chickens: rose, strawberry, single, cushion, buttercup, pea and V-shaped.
4. The largest chicken egg on record was nearly 12 ounces and measured 12 inches around.
5. The greatest number of yolks in one egg is nine.
6. The longest recorded flight of a chicken is 13 seconds.
7. The waste produced by one chicken in its lifetime can supply enough electricity to run a 100 watt bulb for five hours.

You're welcome.

Don't even ask...

Down on the farm [caution: disturbing images]

If you're ant-phobic, you might want to skip this post.

Update on our 30 28 new gal pals. (Dropping like ants around here.)

They're weirdly fascinating, and truly exhausting to watch. After digging to the bottom of their gel and building a girls-only clubhouse down there,

they're now branching out with the tunnels they're known for. We were holding our breath til they finally broke through to the top of their first tunnel, but they didn't seem too excited. They just kept going.The digger ant in front gets tired now and then and takes a nap right where she's stopped, so others just push up past her to keep up the pace.

Some of them simply run up and down the tunnels -- I can't really tell what their assignment is.

Others haul gelballs around on the surface, building up their escape route to the lid.

I can sit and watch their little world for long periods. It's haunting me, honestly.

I worry about their diet, though the booklet says the gel is edible and all they need. Should we drop in some sugar crystals at happy hour? What else do ants eat, other than picnic food? Or will that just distract them from their main purpose? (which is...)

The shipping form has strict instructions against letting them loose, but I think one escaped on the pokey stick provided to help start their tunnels. I'd hate to be the person responsible for causing invasive-ant-species havoc in Central Oregon. 

I'm also concerned about their (and our) mood if they start dying off. We're supposed to take out the dead, which the ants carry to the surface in a little funeral procession. It's going to be pretty depressing around the clubhouse when half the gang croaks.

I now feel responsible for them, on top of the cats, dog, fish, occasional kitten, child and garden. (I'd worry about my worms, too, but I can't find them.) Really, just what I need, another source of guilt and stress. If you're considering an ant farm of your own (Kathi D), you might want to think long and hard about what you're getting into. J.s.*

*just saying, of course.

the light at the end of the tunnel

CC #5: Christmas, The Soundtrack

To follow up on Kathi D's post (you know my motto: Steal from the Best), Christmas is all about the music. For hip 'n' cool folk like Kathi and me, this also includes the smirky ironic variety. She cites "Merry Christmas from the Family" by the great Robert Earl Keen, to which I added “Even Santa Gets the Blues” by Marty Stuart, and “Please Daddy Don’t Get Drunk at Christmas" by Kelly Willis and Bruce Robison (a great alt-country couple by the way. Right up there with Buddie and Julie Miller). There are plenty more out there, I'm sure.

I have a not-so-secret Christmas music habit. I'm a sucker for unusual compilations, the Starbucks CDs, new arrangements of classics, unexpected genres. I make a compilation CD of Christmas music each year to give to friends. Last year's ranged from Billie Holiday to El Vez, and included surf rock, the vibes, bluegrass and Louis Armstrong. Since I have all new colleagues this year, I smartly recycled it for 2008. 'Cause it's that good, IIDSSM*. Here's the playlist:

Baby It's Cold Outside: Zoey Deschanel & Leon Redbone (from Elf)

I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm:  Billy Holiday

Frosty:  The Ventures

Trim Your Tree:  Asylum Street Spankers

Merry Christmas Baby:  Charles Brown

Christmas Song:  Mr. Majestic

'Zat You, Santa Claus?:  Louis Armstrong

That Was the Worst Christmas Ever:  Sufjan Stevens

Jingle Bells:  Duke Ellington

Mele Kalikimaka:  Chris Isaak

Feliz Navidad:  El Vez

I'd Like You for Christmas:  Julie London

All I Want for Christmas:  John Waite

Christmas (Baby Please Come Home):  Death Cab for Cutie

Even Santa Gets the Blues:  Marty Stuart

Skating:  Vince Guaraldi Trio

What Are You Doing New Year's Eve:  Nancy Wilson

Auld Lang Syne:  David Grisman

Of course, I couldn't burn this for you. That would be wrong. I'd hate to spend Christmas in jail.

Though it would make a good song.

This doesn't even include the downloads...

[*if I do say so myself, duh!]

Not working out. Literally.

First, let me say, I love my new job. Love the museum itself, the staff, my boss, the work. Don't love the substantial cut in salary that moving to non-profit entailed. So, like the rest of the country, I'm looking for ways to cut my expenses.

I had already cancelled my housecleaner and my lawncare service, so no further savings there. I've cancelled HBO and cut back to one TIVO service (digital cable and TIVO are not up for discussion here). I no longer eat out or go to the movies, courtesy of a failed relationship, and we don't take vacations other than to visit family. My clothing budget is minimal and I color my hair myself. I've already refinanced, and paid off debt. So what's left?

Unfortunately, it was our health club membership. We've belonged to the Athletic Club of Bend for many years. It's a wonderful facility, with workout rooms, indoor and outdoor pools, tennis courts, fancy spa locker rooms, kid's daycare and camps, exercise classes, restaurant, deli, racquetball and more. We've practically lived there over the years, with Henry in the camps, playing at the pool all summer, my aerobics and weights classes, meals, concerts, etc. Lately, though, it was hard to get to the evening classes and we were using it less. It's been a major expense and I couldn't justify it.

I miss the cameraderie, the socializing, the classes, the steamroom, and the sense of belonging to an upbeat, active community. Henry misses the bagels, the foosball table, the pickup soccer games and summer camp. And we'll both miss the pool next summer - it was a mini-vacation at a resort every weekend.

And I miss working out. I've stopped doing anything lately, and my muscles and outlook are both suffering for it. I'm not very self-motivated about exercise, even though I was an aerobics instructor in my distant childless past. For me, classes work great due to the social pressure to keep going, a set schedule, varied enough routines and a peppy instructor exhorting you to squeeze out 20 more sit-ups.

So what to do? Can't run anymore. Walking is slow and boring. Plus it's too cold. I'm dangerous on a bike. The local public pool is too far away. (Hang on and I'll come up with some other excuses...)

So, don't tell Henry, but I've bought us Wii-Fit for Christmas. I've heard it works pretty well as a workout. Even if it is a Snoopy McSnooperson (according to Kathi D).

Does anybody have any other ideas?

Crying fowl

Seriously. Do not blog about what I mentioned in my previous post. I myself will never mention the topic again. I can't handle the idea of all these visitors finding my site in their search results, clicking on it and hitting their "back" buttons as quickly as possible. I'm feeling rejected. I'm not what they want. I may be able to face this in my personal life, but it's just too much on my blog.

On the plus side, my site counter now reports over 5000 visitors, so that's pretty cool. However, two-thirds of them appear to have handmade poultry outergarment fetishes (I can't repeat the actual words).

MOVING ON...

Here are some gratuitous wild animal shots. I can't compete with Kathi D and her random celebrities, but how many people can post photos of themselves petting a badger?

                                Or posing with a turkey vulture?

                              

Good times, as they say.

I've found the secret to grow blog traffic

Post frequently about sweaters (or "jumpers") for chickens.

There's a huge untapped market for information about chicken knitting. (Knitting for chickens, not knitting with chickens.)

Personally, I will not only talk about chicken knitting, I plan to start posting patterns, samples, measuring guides, appropriate yarns for deflecting pecks and poop, and a gallery of comely hens modeling the latest styles. Kathi D, stand by to shoot your chickens. (With a camera, not a gun, of course.)

My traffic count will go through the roof.