Thursday, December 1, 2011
My Godson is super cool. He likes things because he likes them, not because they are cool or that he saw someone else enjoying the same thing. I LOVE that about people. I especially love that about my Godson because he puts so much energy and crazy faces into the cause of loving life.
He will sit with my sister and myself and drink tea with the "Mom's and Duck" even when all of the boys are toting nerf guns around and playing war. SO COOL.
Therefore when my nephew got all tangled in my knitting yarns and finished playing with all of the "jewels" (sparkly rocks and buttons) in my house and looked up at me with his big eyes and said, "Aunt Smax, will you make ME a blanket?" I said "OOOokkkkkayyyy, but you know it's going to take a long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long looooooooooooooong time. (I really did sit there for about 5 minutes saying this)
"That's ok." he said, in his sweet little boy voice. I almost felt a feeling!
"What colors would you like in your blanket?"
"Army colors and RED!"
This blanket is SO ugly. Which is why 2 years later, I am still reluctantly working on it. I HATE this blanket. It's AWFUL.
I was hoping my Godson would forget about it. I was hoping I would forget about it, too.
2 years later..."AUNT SMAX, when are you going to finish that blanket?!"
Is this kid an ELEPHANT?!
Friday, November 25, 2011
I get cranky when I don't produce something. Needless to say, I've been feeling cranky lately. It is difficult to feel guilty, though. I haven't been sitting around at all. I've just been so busy with things that aren't on my list I haven't really felt very in control of things.
I am thankful for the motivation to keep going when things get unbearable. That motivation derives from the people I love and who love me in return.
I am also thankful for a few days of peace. They have given me the time to get back into my routine and get the real stuff done.
Here are the results!
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
You are a baboon...and I am not! I think Rafiki got it right. Sometimes I feel like I am surrounded, but really I am the crazy one.
Life has taken some wild back roads lately. This project was started in the middle of summer when I had no worries ...I thought for the rest of my days. Alas, I had to work again. Lots of changes swept me right off balance just when I perfected the tree pose and my yoga in the park days were done. I always try to finish what I start however.
Yoga bag completed, which is good. I have hung up my yoga mat for the foreseeable future theoretically, and now I can hang it up in reality as well.
At the end of yoga sessions we say...I forget. I always say it, but I always think ASANTE SAHNA SQUASH BANAHNAH when I am saying it. I have been informed by my bestie that the word is NAMASTE.
Therefore I had to ask my friend, given my brainfart. Angela, I didn't want to give out your phone number so I had to cut off your name in my screen capture, but you are the Yogi to my Boo boo when it comes to nonsense!
Friday, July 22, 2011
I am painfully unable to sit still for long without doing something, making something, or annoying something.
*GASP!* I KNOW!
I never knew it about myself.
I thought I never wanted to see another knitted baby item for the rest of my life after making those three baby blankets. I was very done with the comments about how many children I had, and how nice it was that I could take time out of a busy mother's life to create these wonderful items. Do these people see a child around me? Am I carrying a "mom bag?"
Neeeeoooooooo... Here's proof. No one I know can understand why:
A. I bother to carry a bag at all
B. Can fit anything inside of said bag
So, on Monday I sat down on my couch in the morning and said to myself: "Great, A day of nothing. I'll just sit here and bum it. I never do that, it'll be totally awesome and my friends will be so jealous that I do nothing while they go to work."
...30 seconds later...after twisting and contorting on the couch to the point that my head is touching the ground and my legs are slung over the back of my couch, I give up.
I search through all of my yarn in the huge pile in the corner of my living room because I yelled at myself earlier this year for buying yarn and not using it. I found fun colorful stretchy and bouncey yarn! YAY!
Problem: It's baby colors. Dang. Another baby project.
Good news: Baby projects are small just like their tiny little toes, and fingers and eyeballs, and whatever else, so it won't be a huge "baby blanket" kind of project.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Background information: When I get annoyed with projects I ignore them until I forget what they were all about.
My first Christmas tree in my very first house on my very first Christmas alone fell over...THREE TIMES. It layed there for two days, broken glass ornaments included, until I mustered up the patience to look the mess in the eye and say..."no prob, I can redo this entire thing after I clean up the mess."
My dog must have experienced a close encounter with a werewolf and then been exposed to a full moon and chewed up my back door, leaving sawdust, sweaty dog breath, and various debris. It stayed in a scattered mess on the floor, eventually tracking all over the house because I couldn't even look at it. It took me a month to clean it up. As in START to clean it up, or even acknowledge a mess even existed.
Needless to say...my house is rarely clean. You should see my car.
If a person halfway knits a project, gives up, and rips it out (expletives included)...does it count as a project? I've had three of those so far. I finally re-balled the yarn today. Yay me.
The teacher in me is coaching myself: "But think of the things you've learned about knitting because of those projects?"
The student in me responds: "BUT think of how much more DONE they would be if I had done it right already?!"
I'm just saying I get my students. I erase their work and they puff out all of their breath like I'd just given them the Santa Clause talk. "You mean I have to start my life ALL OVER!?"
Positive Note: I read "The Girl Who Chased the Moon" in basically one day. Take THAT progress!
Monday, June 20, 2011
"Here's to you, Daddy. The first man I ever loved, and the first man who loved me."
Just sit there for a moment and read it over a couple times...
In my family, we have Daddies. Lordy, "Father" is such a stiff, unfeeling word. It feels unnatural when the syllables clunk around in my mouth. Someone once told me that I wasn't a little girl anymore and that I was being juvenile when I said Daddy.
"I mean, at least say Dad."
"I can't, he's my Daddy."
This very MAN, a couple years later saw his "father" driving his car in the opposite direction we were driving and involuntarily shouted out "DAAAAADDDDDAAAAYYYYYY!" (sober)
It makes me laugh uncontrollably STILL.
BUT, you know what that means? He has had some stellar moments with his Daddy. He has bonded with his Daddy and he knows his Daddy would take care of him if he still needed it. Kind of like being a little juvenile child.
Once upon a time, in a quaint village filled with sidewalks, brick townhomes, and freshly cut grass there was a brood (SIX) of children driving two adults mad. In this little piece of heaven, known as Collingdale, behind the house filled with thumping feet, squealing voices, and things that could never be kept nice, there was a small garden patch.
This is the place where small little girls learned the value of grass stained knees, bare feet, bumble bees, and tangled hair. You see, one of the adults, the leader of the nuthouse, always dreamed of being a New Jersey Tomato Farmer. He swiftly realized that his dream would not come to fruition if that meant he must also raise little wild children. He knew that the only thing worse than wild little girls were wild and crazy Jersey folk. You know, the kind that live near the tomato farms, in a trailer, circa 1945, with no distinguishable road leading into or out of the trailer lot? The Jersey trailer folk were not to be trusted, especially with the whispered rumors that they, themselves, were housing the Jersey devil in the off chance that a small little Jersey girl wondered off in her barefoot splendor. This very thing did happen ONCE...and that is how we got Snooki.
So this adult, nay, Daddy folded his dream into his pocket and replaced it with a backyard strawberry patch that was safe and warm and deliciously located in the sane world of Pennsylvania.
He never forgot his dream, it continued to thrive inside his pocket. It shone through, though, and all of his children grew in the sunshine of his dream of farming and growing and cherishing everything from the outside and natural world.
One of his little girls, watched his every move, followed him with her little plastic bubble blowing lawn mower, drank her juice when he drank his "juice." Tried to weed and mulch and pick up heavy things that were five times her size. She even tried to touch the worm on the end of the fish hook even though it was really gross and slimy and dying because that's what her Daddy did. That little girl carries her dreams in her right pocket, but also carries her Daddy's dream in her left pocket.
SO, whenever her shiny headed Daddy comes up with a hair-brained scheme to build ANOTHER barn, or replace a roof (where she still tries to carry things up that are five times her size), or EVEN BETTER: drive donuts in the snow on the ATV, she is there. Even when he retires and she has her own job and house and dog and life, she visits to make sure the tomato plants are tied up, the strawberries have been picked, the "varmints" stay out of the garden and that the dream that has been kept in pockets for so long has been tended and watered and given sunshine.
You see, strawberrries remind me of my Daddy's dream. That is why I love strawberries. They represent the beginning. The first step in a decade long plan towards a dream that continues and evolves. Strawberries represent the simple truth that my Daddy told me when I said I wanted to play football in middle school:
(I didn't want to play football bad enough)
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Let me explain the feeling of the first moments of summertime: It's like the end of one of those dreams where you are lost and separated from someone or some people. You rush about constantly, your heart pounding, the irrational thought that You may not make it without them! You do EVERYTHING you can day and night to run and search and and through the darkness you...screeeeeeeaaaaaaam! And that is when you wake up to summertime. It's like a fresh breeze across your face while your heart returns to a steady beat and you giggle at the thought of your own insensibility. You feel alive for the stress you have put upon yourself...but it makes you feel more alive with the extra gift of time and availability to accomplish everything and nothing with no consequence. Ahhh summer...I love you!
I choose to plan nothing and accomplish nothing this year for summer. Now I know that is quite impossible. I have far too much energy and ADD to sit still and do nothing. But perhaps I could slow down a bit...
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Sunday, May 22, 2011
I have to admit, rather guiltily, that birthmonth this year has been much more fun due to a certain someone who introduced me to this song:
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Here's the deal: Men are NOT simple, not to me. But, it's not the kind of complication that gets frustrating, it's more like the kind that makes me shake my head and laugh.
This is how the title of this blog entry started to evolve and take shape:
Once upon a time (in a land very very close to here) there was a man that spoke to me as if he were a combination of the bartender on Boondock Saints (the one who mix and matched his sayings and cursed up a storm) and "The Fonz." Many days of conversation (the term is used lightly) in passing by this man brought forth very often...very very often a "Heeeey" with this mans shoulders bobbing up and his palms flipping towards the heavens as if to greet the great greaser gods. After the traditional "Fonz Heeeeeyyy" the words that followed would be either incomprehensible or a mix match of crazy phrases. I LOVE THIS. This man has made me smile day in and day out for one simple reason. I LOVE a puzzle. It's like trying to speak in pig latin for an extended period of time with your best friend forever from second grade. It's a tricky conversation! Today was a simple one that has befuddled myself and another person the entire day.
Let me set this scene. Just as I was leaving Boondock Fonz and this other person, it began to downpour. DOWNPOUR! We stood underneath the awning contemplating the melting point of a witch such as myself and how much time off work such an event could buy me...(at least that was what I was contemplating). Small talk is wonderful in these times, it passes through the sieve of our thoughts so easily. I do not remember what was said, but this: "Heeeeeyyyy, don't be like bread with this rain!"
As abruptly as the Boondock Fonz came into the conversation, he disappated into the background with only the trails of my voice following...."I don't know what that means...?????"
I still don't know what that means. If you think you can decode it....be my guest. I think it has something to do with soggy bread. I don't know how that relates to me, but that's as far as this pig latin-like conundrum has traveled today.
HOLD UP....this isn't the end though! This guy is certainly not simple. He's very complicated, and therefore EXTREMELY interesting! This got me thinking of New Orleans and all of the different and complicated, interesting people there are down there....
People in New Orleans ARE different, particularly the men. I was taken back in a very pleasant way by this. As I have stated to many parties, I have now forgotten how exactly one opens a door. I haven't done that in days. I also don't know how to navigate stairs without the help and balance of a man's hand leading me. I don't know how I survived before...
It was so wonderful to fool men into thinking I was a such a delicate woman. I never thought the day would come. But the fact remains, men only think about one thing...it's true and you all are right, that little fact is simple (and I mean little). It's the presentation that is complicated (to me)! I am not talking about the "hey babies" of the world, or the infamous "SHAAAWWWTTTAYYYYY!" call from the car. Those aren't the serious ones. They aren't jumping in the pool. I am talking about the get down to it, let's go fishing for a chick kind of game. There are so many lures, lines, and reels to use and I just don't get it, ask anyone that has seen me at a bar. (PS did you like how I used a fishing metaphor for meeting guys?) Men are NOT simple...
These men came up to the pair of us girlies (my cousin and myself). Read closely to the management of the same situation!
My very very VERY tall dark handsome cup of tea leaned over from a lower floor up to the balcony seat I was in so he was just shorter than me (man I am short) crossed his arms over the rail and started to chat me up.
Meanwhile: My cousin was talking to this cup of tea's matching wing tea cup and negotiating a dance. He promised to trade shoes with her if she just let down her long her and let him climb right up next to her and do a little cha cha on the dance floor. (they really did do some swing dancing of some kind...really fun!)
Back to the tall handsome cup of tea: He played it right. Man he looked just like a little labrador retriever leaning up to get as close to my lap as possible, turning his head just the way a puppy turns his to hear an interesting new sound. He smiled and played the "I'm so cute, don't you want to rub my belly?" trick, talking about leggoes and the sissy Navy (I know, I have strange interests). So, I am thinking "I totally get this, I do...I understand doggie body language...I think he wants to be my friend!"
Back to my cousin. They are cutting A RUG! SO much fun! I actually hardly notice because I am being hypnotized by this cute little puppy talk dark handsome cup of tea! But I do notice one thing: there is definitely some whisperings going on, but cousin is smiling so I think she is safe. I later find out this is what was said:
"your hotel or mine?" SIMPLE! VERY CLEAR!
Back to my labrador retriever: This is what was said to me: "You know, men are very simple creatures, women...not so much."
I am competitive. This is a challenge. I will argue!
I did argue...more of a discussion. He went to the bathroom. He came back out and a few minutes later gathered his doggy possy and left. He was polite, he said good-bye as he grabbed my knee and gave it a little squeeze. I thought "wow, what a good guy, and so cute...weird combination..."
I kid you not...it took me three days to pick up on what happened.
"OOOOOOOOooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhh." (this is what I said yesterday) "I get it now!" That cute little labrador retriever, tall dark handsome cup of tea...he wanted to hump my leg! "MEN ARE SIMPLE" = "I only want one thing from you..."
"I GET IT!"
MEN ARE COMPLICATED (to me)...but they still make me laugh.
The moral of the story here is: I need an IEP.
Monday, May 16, 2011
I sure hope the baby likes it....
Two more babies to blanket...
Friday, April 22, 2011
Being a "backpacker" forces you to do things that technology has taken away from us.
And of course...corny jokes make life float on.
Remember: Put your best foot forward in every situation!
But I should always remember to surround myself with good company who care.
And obstacles aren't obstacles...they're opportunities!