It’s time to start packing up the red ribbon!!  Deliveries are winding down, billing is in the mail and IT"S SNOWING!!!  and BLOWING!!   Big exhale….

(one of these prints is not like the other ones… one of these prints is just not the same…)

It’s time to wade through the muck the house has become, but first.. I could use a little spinning time.  I just checked for podcast updates.  There’s 75min. and 29 seconds worth of fiberly listening, newly downloaded.  That ought to be just about right.   Hey Santa, do you read blogs??  I could use one of those contraptions, you know, those connectors, that let the ipod play through my stereo.  Just about right.

It was 5am and I woke up thinking about the pit that the house was fast becoming.  The diningroom table, which is pretty central to the whole house and the first point of focus when you enter the front door, has become trash pit for everything that needs to be *put down* when we come home.  Stuff is piling up.  Lots of what’s there are the stacks of mail that need sorting, when we get a minute.  Most is junk.  One of the guys that empties my mailbox for me when I’m away told me that he has never seen so much junk mail.  He’s right.  I’ve never been able to figure out why we get so much.  Yesterday, being sort of cold and icy and that I had SO much office stuff to catch up on after being out *on* the job so much recently,  I did not take the time to go for a real walk.  Instead, I walked to the mailbox twice and drove to the post office once to collect the mail, stretch my legs and get a breath of fresh air.  Here’s what I discovered. Not all the junk is really mine  (as if I didn’t already know this, ha!)

1. We get mail for C’s ex-wife.  He’s been divorced for more than 25 years.  She never lived her, nor anywhere near here.  But, her alumni mail comes to us, none the same.  I’d have it forwarded to her, but I know she doesn’t want it either.  She’s busy too.
2. Mail for a dear friend of mine comes here.  He died almost 15 years ago.  He also never lived here.    Mostly it’s requests for donations, he gave to lots of charities.  Now, I get them.
3. We both get mail that has a combination of names made from parts of both of our names but not really belonging to either of us.  When I see these strangulations of our names I know to throw them away, fast! 

Seems a terrible waste, all that paper, energy, just junk that needs to get recycled.

That ends my Wednesday rant.

Knitting:
Last night I started knitting on the neckband.  The pattern has you knit a 4 stitch wide 4" long strip, then attach it.  I decided to knit it and attach it as I knit, picking up one edge stitch and knitting it with the last stitich on the needle.  Had Sam not shown quite so much interest, I’d have it to show, finished.  He wanted to sit with me, and as I’ve said, this yarn pulls easily.

So I picked up another project.  The Backyard Leaves scarf by Annie Modesitt from Scarf Style…  funny thing about this pattern.  When I cast on for it a couple weeks ago (before I stuffed it into the bottom of the bag and misplaced the pattern), I thought it was really confusing.  Last night, while watching a movie, it all made sense.  That’s with a glass of wine.  I should probably run to "knock on a bit of wood" at this.  Maybe it *was* the wine.  I’ll let you know.  This is not a project I’d take with me to a knitting group.  It’s not a pattern I could follow and take part in a conversation.  It is fun.  I’m not through the first repeat, it’s early.

Flora was the perfect little something.  I wanted an easy knit with a twist to get my mind off the holiday work.  Something I could pick up and do sort of mindlessly. Something I hadn’t done before.  Enter Flora…

Those cute little twisted fringy things are fun to make and a new technique for me.

My thanks to Kate.  Great pattern and perfect diversion.
 

For Flora:
1 strand Brown Sheep Cotton / wool
1 strand brushed mohair / nylon binder
1 strand handspun wool single dyed orange for those fringy things
knit on #9 straights

Yesterday I spent ALL day in a high rise office building.  I was moving around, floor to floor, office to office, decorating.  Yep, more poinsettia trees, and more artificial Christmas trees.  They take FOREVER to build.  Anyway, that’s not where I was really going with this.  I can not imagine what it must be like to be in one of the buildings, in one of those cubicles, day after day, no matter.. not even in one of the really nice corner offices.  I guess the camaraderie would be nice. I asked one of the women I see there if the falcon had been outside on the 19th story decking much lately.  She told me she wouldn’t know, she doesn’t look outside, she doesn’t turn around.  Her back was no more than 5 feet from the window.  I’d be stark raving mad if I didn’t ever look outside.  I realized how lucky I am.  I have always basically worked for myself.  Those of you that do this know that there are lots of points on the downside, but you move around as you need, want, and most importantly, PLAN.  You still have to kiss a lot of backsides, and smile when you don’t feel like smiling and all of that, but hey.. that’s any job, that’s just life, if you need to make a living.  I know how lucky I am to have figured it out early on.   And, regarding yesterday, twelve hours on my feet, bending and lifting and fluffing up those old dusty tree branches has me exhausted and sore today.  My back muscles are still burning.  It’s not all cake, right?