Some time ago, (no, I won't say how long, it's too embarrassing) the Taunton Press sent me an exam copy of this book to review. I think it was because I had posted about knitting, and how much I respect the old crafts, knitting, crochet, quilting, embroidery.
Somehow, the book disappeared under a pile of other books, and just recently came to light again. In my house, this is a common occurence, since books are to be found in every room, on shelves, in stacks, or open face down in a chair.
The complete title is When Bad Things Happen to Good Knitters: An Emergency Survival Guide, by Marion Edmonds and Ahza Moore.
It's a handy little volume filled with all kinds of rescue advice, beginning with a chapter on emergency prevention.
It is well organized, with clear illustrations for how to retrieve dropped stitches, various methods of finishing, and all kinds of other knitting emergencies.
The one thing I did not like was the choice of pale green for Section headings. They are difficult to read for me.
This is not a book for beginning knitters. The authors assume some basic knowledge of knitting. So if you are just learning how to knit, there are better instructive books out there. But if you have basic knitting skills, this book can tell you how to overcome almost any error you might make.
I am barely above beginner knitter, and have only made things shaped like squares (for an afghan) or rectangles (baby blankets). I taught myself to knit from a book while pregnant with our first child. With this book as a companion, maybe I will spread my wings and try something a little more complex.
Even for an experienced knitter, this book has advice to offer, especially for someone who does not have a companion knitter to help resolve issues such as (mis)reading a pattern, or what to do if the sleeve of the sweater has somehow sprouted from the chest instead of the shoulder.
I recommend this book for knitters of any level.
Note: I do not receive any remuneration for this review, or for subsequent purchases of the product.
Saturday, February 04, 2012
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Once Upon a Time
Is anyone else watching this show? Someone recommended it to us. I didn't think Wick would like it, but he is as intrigued as I am.
If you haven't seen it, the show is based on the idea of taking familiar fairy tale characters and putting them in a town in our world, which seems to be the UNreal world, and the Magic Forest is the REAL world.
A few liberties have been taken with the characters as previously known, but by and large, they are true to their fairy-tale counter-parts.
So....okay, we have Snow White, who is looking for her Prince Charming, who seems to be married to someone else, but maybe she is not real, and maybe their memories have been magically altered.
We have Emma who came to Storybrook in search of the son she gave up for adoption, who just happens to have been adopted by the Evil Queen, who apparently controls all the characters in Storybrook.
Rumpelstiltskin is just as unattractive as in the fairy tales, living in Storybrook as Mr. Gold. But we get a back story to explain why he became wicked and evil.
Henry, the biological son of Emma, has a book of fairy tales, and has assigned character equivalents to each of the people in Storybrook.
I just reread this, and am not sure if it makes sense or not.
We are hooked on the show, and tivo it every week. I grew up reading fairy tales, and loving them, so I guess that explains my obsession with it.
What I can't really figure out is why Wick likes it. He is normally the logical, sane, sequential one of us, while I am totally random and abstract.
Whatever the reason, we enjoy it.
Try it; you might like it.
If you haven't seen it, the show is based on the idea of taking familiar fairy tale characters and putting them in a town in our world, which seems to be the UNreal world, and the Magic Forest is the REAL world.
A few liberties have been taken with the characters as previously known, but by and large, they are true to their fairy-tale counter-parts.
So....okay, we have Snow White, who is looking for her Prince Charming, who seems to be married to someone else, but maybe she is not real, and maybe their memories have been magically altered.
We have Emma who came to Storybrook in search of the son she gave up for adoption, who just happens to have been adopted by the Evil Queen, who apparently controls all the characters in Storybrook.
Rumpelstiltskin is just as unattractive as in the fairy tales, living in Storybrook as Mr. Gold. But we get a back story to explain why he became wicked and evil.
Henry, the biological son of Emma, has a book of fairy tales, and has assigned character equivalents to each of the people in Storybrook.
I just reread this, and am not sure if it makes sense or not.
We are hooked on the show, and tivo it every week. I grew up reading fairy tales, and loving them, so I guess that explains my obsession with it.
What I can't really figure out is why Wick likes it. He is normally the logical, sane, sequential one of us, while I am totally random and abstract.
Whatever the reason, we enjoy it.
Try it; you might like it.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
On a Winter's Day
All the leaves are brown and the sky is gray.
The lake reflects the pewter color of the sky. Brown leaves carpet the ground, with here and there a maple leaf glowing golden yellow as candle light, or red, scarlet, crimson as a small ember.
Yesterday afternoon, one brave bunny ventured out of his snug, fur-lined nest, and promptly got chased by the dogs for his trouble. One lone squirrel uncoiled from the eiderdown soft comfort of his bushy tail, and chittered at us as we walked by.
It's been raining for two days, non-stop. Slow, soaking rain, just what we need in the time of drought. The lake is up a few inches, which is encouraging.
From the windows that run across the back of the cabin, we can see the spot where paper-white narcissus cast their sweet fragrance in spring. Further along, daffodils will lift their golden trumpets, and the spear-tipped leaves of the iris will herald their purple and white blooms, showing their velvety throats as they blossom.
From this cold, dark, wet landscape life will erupt in just a few months. Perhaps we, too, need a time of cold to reflect, to meditate, to realize how blessed we are, and how much we will have to offer, when spring comes again.
The lake reflects the pewter color of the sky. Brown leaves carpet the ground, with here and there a maple leaf glowing golden yellow as candle light, or red, scarlet, crimson as a small ember.
Yesterday afternoon, one brave bunny ventured out of his snug, fur-lined nest, and promptly got chased by the dogs for his trouble. One lone squirrel uncoiled from the eiderdown soft comfort of his bushy tail, and chittered at us as we walked by.
It's been raining for two days, non-stop. Slow, soaking rain, just what we need in the time of drought. The lake is up a few inches, which is encouraging.
From the windows that run across the back of the cabin, we can see the spot where paper-white narcissus cast their sweet fragrance in spring. Further along, daffodils will lift their golden trumpets, and the spear-tipped leaves of the iris will herald their purple and white blooms, showing their velvety throats as they blossom.
From this cold, dark, wet landscape life will erupt in just a few months. Perhaps we, too, need a time of cold to reflect, to meditate, to realize how blessed we are, and how much we will have to offer, when spring comes again.
Tuesday, January 03, 2012
Numbering My Days
So teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.--Psalm 90:12
Three years ago this week, I was released from hospital after nearly two months, facing 4 months of physical therapy and rehab to learn to walk again.
I had just been told that I was permanently disabled, and would never work again.
I was struggling with who I am now, since I am not at all who I was. For months, I struggled with physical limitations, and loss of identity. I didn't know myself any more.
I could not understand why God had not taken me home, when I begged for death. Why was I still here? What was I supposed to do, when I couldn't teach any more?
I still don't have a definitive answer to those questions. I have, however, learned that even though I don't understand, I accept His wisdom. I may never know for sure the reason, if there is just one.
I am learning to see the humor in my life again. I have regained most of my mental acuity. I have been given opportunities to use my teaching skills in small, less-taxing situations other than the classroom.
My grandchildren have availed themselves of my sewing, crochet and knitting skills. My children have told me that I am an important resource for them, because of things I remember, and abilities I have taught them.
Now that Wick is retired too, we are finding new depths of our relationship, new ways to express what has been there all along, but we were sometimes too busy to notice.
We are living full-time at the lake. We have found a new church home. Our relationship with our Lord is growing deeper and broader each day.
Only God the Father knows when our days on this earth shall end. I am satisfied that He knows the number of hairs on my head, the number of beats of my heart, the path that He would have me follow.
He has remodeled my heart from four times its normal size to the size it is supposed to be.
And He has remodeled my spirit to accept whatever may come, because He holds me safe under His wings.
I don't know where I will be a year from now; I just know that wherever it is, He will be with me.
I had just been told that I was permanently disabled, and would never work again.
I was struggling with who I am now, since I am not at all who I was. For months, I struggled with physical limitations, and loss of identity. I didn't know myself any more.
I could not understand why God had not taken me home, when I begged for death. Why was I still here? What was I supposed to do, when I couldn't teach any more?
I still don't have a definitive answer to those questions. I have, however, learned that even though I don't understand, I accept His wisdom. I may never know for sure the reason, if there is just one.
I am learning to see the humor in my life again. I have regained most of my mental acuity. I have been given opportunities to use my teaching skills in small, less-taxing situations other than the classroom.
My grandchildren have availed themselves of my sewing, crochet and knitting skills. My children have told me that I am an important resource for them, because of things I remember, and abilities I have taught them.
Now that Wick is retired too, we are finding new depths of our relationship, new ways to express what has been there all along, but we were sometimes too busy to notice.
We are living full-time at the lake. We have found a new church home. Our relationship with our Lord is growing deeper and broader each day.
Only God the Father knows when our days on this earth shall end. I am satisfied that He knows the number of hairs on my head, the number of beats of my heart, the path that He would have me follow.
He has remodeled my heart from four times its normal size to the size it is supposed to be.
And He has remodeled my spirit to accept whatever may come, because He holds me safe under His wings.
I don't know where I will be a year from now; I just know that wherever it is, He will be with me.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Christmas Weekend Menus
Whenever we get together with our kids and grandkids, food is a primary concern. It's also a cooperative venture, with all three couples contributing. Some of the grandkids are also now making and bringing their own contributions.
Our plan is to meet at our daughter's Friday night, and be together until Monday morning.
Here is what we plan to eat:
Friday night: chili and cornbread--Jeana
Our plan is to meet at our daughter's Friday night, and be together until Monday morning.
Here is what we plan to eat:
Friday night: chili and cornbread--Jeana
Fixins: Jamie
Saturday breakfast: pancakes (make batter night before, cook as people get up) Syrup-Jamie, bacon Mom & Dad
lunch/dinner: Turkey (Mom and Dad frying the turkey)
dressing, mac and cheese, green beans--Jeana Corn casserole, fruit salad and relish tray-Jamie
Supper: leftovers; meat, cheese and cracker platter, raw veggies and dip (Mom & Dad)
Sunday morning: breakfast casserole--Jeana
lunch: ?? work on leftovers?? Mom is bringing beefy vegetable casserole and a cheese ball; Chips and dip-Jamie
supper: enchiladas--Jeana
spanish rice and beans--Jamie
Jamie will also bring sour cream and extra cheese as toppings, we will bring drinks and lots of
snacks.
Mom and Dad are also bringing banana bread, apple muffins, chocolate chip cookies, Heath bar cookies, and chocolate chocolate chip cookies, and sugar free cheesecake.
Latest bulletin: Jeana has bronchitis, a carry-over from Katoushka's bout with it during Thanksgiving, which I then took home with me, and passed on to Wick. So we may have to freeze everything, and postpone until Jeana is feeling better.
The date on the calender doesn't matter; being together is what is important.
We found a crate of games in the barn, so we will spend a good bit of time sorting through those, and deciding what to keep and what to trash, and then the great debate about what we are actually going to play.
Some of us are hooked on Settlers of Catan, so I'm sure there will be a Settler's tournament. Then maybe chicken foot, which all of us can play at the same time, or a scrabble tournament, or maybe Risk.
Doesn't matter much what we play; we always have a great time. The trash-talking, teasing, singing badly, and family stories will make new memories to go with the ones we already have.
Mom and Dad are also bringing banana bread, apple muffins, chocolate chip cookies, Heath bar cookies, and chocolate chocolate chip cookies, and sugar free cheesecake.
Latest bulletin: Jeana has bronchitis, a carry-over from Katoushka's bout with it during Thanksgiving, which I then took home with me, and passed on to Wick. So we may have to freeze everything, and postpone until Jeana is feeling better.
The date on the calender doesn't matter; being together is what is important.
We found a crate of games in the barn, so we will spend a good bit of time sorting through those, and deciding what to keep and what to trash, and then the great debate about what we are actually going to play.
Some of us are hooked on Settlers of Catan, so I'm sure there will be a Settler's tournament. Then maybe chicken foot, which all of us can play at the same time, or a scrabble tournament, or maybe Risk.
Doesn't matter much what we play; we always have a great time. The trash-talking, teasing, singing badly, and family stories will make new memories to go with the ones we already have.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Christmas is for Family
Last Saturday, we met with my extended family to celebrate Christmas.
My parents had four kids. All four of us married, and had among us 11 kids. All 11 have married, and had kids.
The current count is 54, with several couples still in the child-bearing years, so that number may go up.
Obviously, too big a crowd for anyone's house, so we met at the community center where my folks live.
For years, we all congregated at my mama's house on every occasion, and often just to visit. Her house was Family Central. But we finally had to concede there were just too many of us for her house. My folks now live in a one-bedroom apartment, and there are no large gatherings there, although we try to visit at least once a month.
With so many of us, even a whole day is never enough to visit with everyone as I would like to.
But with phone calls, e-mails, and facebook, we manage to stay in touch, to keep track of the important events in everyone's lives.
All of this to say, after all, Christmas started with one family. A man who took a wife who was already pregnant, and the Child who was born to them on that night so long ago.
That Child came to save us from our sins, and our Father God says we are adopted into His family, brothers and sisters to Christ, co-inheritors of the Kingdom.
So, brothers and sisters, a very merry Christmas to you all.
My parents had four kids. All four of us married, and had among us 11 kids. All 11 have married, and had kids.
The current count is 54, with several couples still in the child-bearing years, so that number may go up.
Obviously, too big a crowd for anyone's house, so we met at the community center where my folks live.
For years, we all congregated at my mama's house on every occasion, and often just to visit. Her house was Family Central. But we finally had to concede there were just too many of us for her house. My folks now live in a one-bedroom apartment, and there are no large gatherings there, although we try to visit at least once a month.
With so many of us, even a whole day is never enough to visit with everyone as I would like to.
But with phone calls, e-mails, and facebook, we manage to stay in touch, to keep track of the important events in everyone's lives.
All of this to say, after all, Christmas started with one family. A man who took a wife who was already pregnant, and the Child who was born to them on that night so long ago.
That Child came to save us from our sins, and our Father God says we are adopted into His family, brothers and sisters to Christ, co-inheritors of the Kingdom.
So, brothers and sisters, a very merry Christmas to you all.
Monday, November 28, 2011
Our Chihuahuas
This was Cassie's first major family holiday. She was a bit overwhelmed.
In the photo above, I am holding Sissy, our shy baby. Wick is holding Cassie, who has a black muzzle, as if she has been into the chocolate pudding.
She did not get into any pudding or pie, but tasted every crumb that dropped on the floor.
Our daughter has a large Golden Retriever, Emma, and two cats: Boots and Spencer. Our son has a Boston Terrier named Oreo. Cassie wanted to play with all of them.
Some were more enthusiastic than others.
The cats stared, hissed, and finally ambushed her. They never touched her, but to hear her shrieks, one would have thought she was being skinned alive.
Emma wanted desperately to play. But one little pat from a paw as big as Cassie's head sent her rolling across the floor.
Oreo is bouncy and playful, and a bit closer to Cassie and Sissy's size, but still big enough to send either of them sprawling with one mis-aimed leap.
They mostly played with each other, as they do at home, slept in their bed by my feet as we played Settlers of Catan, and did their best to charm bits of turkey and ham from unwary family members.
Sissy spent as much time as she could wheedle out of me, sitting in my lap with her head tucked under my arm, shivering if anyone else spoke to her or touched her.
After three days with 14 people, four dogs, and two cats, Sissy was doing her happy dance as soon as we got inside our house. Cassie ran around excitedly, sniffing to see that everything was exactly as she had left it.
They are sleeping the sleep of exhaustion as I write, snuggled together under their fleece blankets, noses still twitching at the scent of the left-overs we brought home.
They have no idea that in a month, we will be doing it all over again for Christmas.
Sometimes, ignorance is bliss.
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