The Key to Making a Difference



Top image: UN Photo/Eskinder Debebe


About 18 months ago, I dreamt I was in an airport in Rwanda. The structure, on the inside, did not have any of the trappings of an airport situated in the midst of a civil war. Outside, the African sun was burning, bright and hot, an the skies were clear. At eye level, there was sparkling outside the window and a low, indescribable hum. And then, someone near the window howled, and I heard the word "machete" as people began to move frantically. But we had nowhere to run.

Fear, even while in a dream state, sets loose a surge of adrenaline that pulsates through your body like nothing else. As I joined the melee, the terror I felt was palpable. I couldn't shake the idea that I was a sitting duck and that I was going to die on the tip of a bloody blade.

I awoke in a sweat, shaking, and haven't been able to shake that dream since. It's as vivid today as it was that night.

A few months before, my former publisher -- a brilliant, inspiring gent -- posted on his Facebook page that he had just finished reading and had thoroughly enjoyed "What is the What," the autobiography of Valentino Achak Deng. If you don't know of him, he's one of the Lost Boys of Sudan. Jim's recommendation was enough; I picked up the book and dug in, and followed with other stories of genocide and the refugees that survived. These stories embedded themselves in my subconscious.


Lower image: UN Photo/John Isaac



My dream, though horrifying, was just that: a dream. As I raced through that airport trying desperately to figure out an escape, I was consoled by the fact that my children were home and safe. Around me, children called out for missing parents, parents for children. If they made it out alive, who would help them? If they had to walk, alone, for hundreds of miles, would they make it? Would they have food? Shelter? Someone who cared? Someone to help them continue to live?



For millions, that support comes from the United Nations Refugee Agency (UNHCR). I joined the Blue Key Campaign to help ensure that support will continue.

Around the world, millions of people are affected by natural disasters, violence and civil war. Forced from their homes and, in some cases, their countries, they struggle to survive.



The Agency has helped more than 50 million people since 1951. At the end of 2009 alone, there were 43.3 million displaced people around the globe. More than 26 million refugees and 15.6 internationally displaced persons had received help from the UNHCR. Many are children; many have disabilities.

For many of us, $5 is practically pocket change. For a refugee, it can be a key to change. Get your Blue Key to help them. Visit www.thebluekey.org to learn how.

The Blue Key campaign is a project of USA for UNHCR (http://www.unrefugees.org/), which works in the United States to support the UNHCR, based in Geneva.

Stranger than Fiction

I often point out that my life -- mothering three boys, doing urology PR -- can be stranger than fiction. Yesterday it reached a whole new level on the "I couldn't make this up" scale.

Up until yesterday, I had never been in a car accident. And I hope I'm never in another.

I had just picked up my three-year-old from the sitter, and we were following our normal route home, up the hill to the intersection with the stoplight (as opposed to the one without, which I always consider rather dangerous)

It happened quickly, but the retrospective plays in slow-mo.

Pulled up to intersection as always, slowly. (The street has parking on both sides and I live in fear that a child or animal will make a break for it and dart out.) Stopped at the red light. Waited for some goon to do a three-point turn in the intersection on the cross street, even as the light turned green. Then, took my foot off the brake, moved to accelerate and--bam.

A bicyclist came tearing eastbound down the center of the road (I was turning left to go westbound), crashed into my left fender, cartwheeled--with bike--across my hood and dashboard--and fell over to the right side. Thankfully, I was only doing single-digit mileage.

Moved to autopilot. Scout skills. Strong, calm, clear and careful. Stop the car. Check the victim. One bystander helped him get to the curb and I moved the van out of the travel lane. Called 911. Another bystander appeared, he saw the whole thing. Good. Toddler fine in back seat. Pile of napkins for victim to put pressure on the gashes on his face. His biking buddies show up (Geez, were they racing down Frederick Road in rush hour?), brother calls mother. I call husband... Let's get toddler out of van. Rescue team shows up. Three police, fire and ambulance. I'm shaking, but calm and clear.

Statements are given. Victim is stabilized and taken to local trauma center. I'm told that is standard, given that he hit was on a bicycle and struck a moving vehicle. No tickets are written, because this is not my fault (in retrospect, I question this--should this young man not get ticked for failing to travel in the proper lane, riding with no helmet, failing to obey traffic signals an failing to grant the right of way?) and clean up begins. Photos are taken, statements are taken. Another witness had given a statement confirming ours.

Copy of the police report. Drive home. It's all in the motions. Call insurance. Arrange for repairs. Worry about the 18-year old laying in Shock Trauma.

If you want a visual of what a head does to a windshield, here you go:



It may not be clear in the picture, but that's a significant impact. I was moving in the single digits -- 5 mph tops -- but this kid was flying. Force equals mass multiplied by acceleration. There was ample force.

He was not wearing a helmet.

Had he been on the right shoulder, the proper way, I would have seen him.

Had he obeyed the traffic signals and slowed down and stopped, well...

I do hope that he's ok. But part of me also hopes that a lesson in bike safety was learned, even though it was delivered by the worst of teachers.

It's still a bit surreal.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Talk of the Town

This morning, I had the pleasure of watching Prince William of Wales marry Catherine Middleton. While many moms were, no doubt, watching with daughters who were mesmerized by gowns, hats and all the pageantry of the royal to-do, watching with my son gave me a decidedly non-female perspective on the shindig.

- Does getting married make William the king? (She's wearing a tiara, Mom...)

- Why are the guards facing the crowds and not the procession?

- Who needs bayonets at a wedding? (But, like, wow!)

- Why did they come in cars and leave in coaches? (What's the deal with using an old car?)

- Why don't they just walk on that rectangle in the aisle?

- Why are two guys in red and two in black? (Should that old guy be dressed the same as Prince William?)

- Does Prince Charles really need a sword? In church? How can he take it in there?

- Um, really? Trees in the church?

- Why don't they just kiss at Westminster Abbey?

- Why didn't William's brother comb his hair?

- Can we move to Canada and have the day off when William's brother gets married? (Then can I say "eh?" as much as I want?)

- Whoa! That girl's hat has devil horns! What was she thinking?

All valid questions, really. Some I answered easily. Others, I looked up. Some I answered with a blank stare. At least there was tea.






Did you watch the wedding with a kid? What did you talk about?


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Transparency and Social Media

So my company is about to jump full force into the field of social media. Networking, blogging and Twitter. (I've been tweeting myself for a short time but I have other identities. If you're following me for urology, you might want to also follow @amerurological and @urology_health.)

Naturally, this prompts lots of questions -- not just ROI questions, goals questions or even control questions, but also the more personal "whose account do these groups get tied to?" questions. And the answers are nebulous at best. Twitter is easy. @wendyisett is a personal account, so it's attached to a personal address. The other accounts are tied to work domains. LinkedIn and Facebook are a little different, and tie directly to personal accounts, so...

There seems to be a common thought that one of these forums is more personal than the other, that you should use LinkedIN for professional purposes and Facebook for personal activities. BUT...

What's your personal policy? I waffle back and forth on this. Forums like Facebook present great "getting to know you" benefits, and it's fun sometimes to have the occasional co-worker jump in and comment on a photo or link. But, once you jump into the company admin role, does that change? If I'm an admin for ABC Company's Facebook page and I post on my wall that I've had a crappy day and am ready for new things, will my co-workers or group members read too deeply into that "what's on your mind" post? What if I dabble in a Facebook app at lunchtime and the updates land on friends' walls? Or share a political point of view? Or if a blog post raises issues that relate to a problem at the office? What level of censorship is necessary (beyond simple common sense)?

What's worse: to have transparent, recommendations on LinkedIN (which could possibly be viewed as job hunting) or results of a "what Hogwarts character are you?" quiz on Facebook? Is a "this is my personal blog and do not necessarily represent the views of my employer" disclaimer enough to ward off coworker "she got a new recommendation, is she looking to jump ship?" suspicion?

I personally don't know the answers to these questions, which is why I'm throwing out the question. Talk amongst yourselves. And please talk to me!

-- Post From My iPhone

Getting Back to Basics

It's funny how getting out of the office every once in a while – though expensive and not always feasible in this economy – can actually refocus you and remind you of "abandoned" projects, generate a spark of enthusiasm that wasn't there before, or generally just remind you why it is you do what you do. And I do PR.

I didn't start this blog because I wanted to talk about PR. I started it because I wanted a way for family and friends to keep in touch, hear about the latest and greatest with the family without having to initiate or engage in a vast number of telephone exchanges about the simplest of things. I wanted to post my hobby projects so that others could chime in and give feedback. I wanted it to be a way to be, in a way, the ultimate multitasker. I started it before wave of web interaction now known as "Social Media" took hold. Now there's Ravelry for the knitting, Facebook for the family and friends, Twitter for tweeting sake and I'm left with a blog that has been untended for a while and needs a new focus. It doesn't need a new name – I think SpinneasGauge is witty and all-encompassing in so many ways – but it needs new content.

So that's what it's going to get. I don't know what yet, or even how. In fact, I'm not sure whether it will be simply personal, whether it will have a touch of work commentary, or whether it will be industry-specific with commentary from the front lines of non-profit public relations. I struggle with the transparency issue, particularly with current work climates, but I'm finding myself increasingly drawn to my journalism roots. So watch out or tune in. I'm coming back.

Happy New Year!

I sat down this evening and struggled to find the words for an introspective, empowering message for 2009. Unfortunately, the words would not come. BUT ... in the interest of regular blogging, HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!

Checking In

Long time, no post. Still no time, but thought I'd check in with a shot that I grabbed on December 23 of L'il I ... incidentally, he also grabs a hank of alpaca yarn to keep him occupied during diaper changes (odd, I know, but true -- the changing pad that we use is near my living room stash container and he grabs grey alpaca every time and kisses it).

Time Flies

And she's back... there has been knitting and growing (the kids) and a very busy travel schedule this summer. I'm hoping to get back into a solid blogging schedule soon.

Today is party day for L'il I, who finally hits single digits for real on Tuesday. I hope to post some party pics later, but in the meantime, I leave you with the post from one year ago today, when I was hanging in waiting for the OB I liked to be on call. Did I actually have time to knit back then?

Tick ... Tock ... Tick ... Tock ...
Note: Knitting content is at the bottom of this post; skip ahead or read the baby update :)

An Update on the Babe

Well folks, the clock is ticking now on L'il I. I will spare you minor details, but suffice it to say that the boy is just about done cooking. At a whopping 4 lbs, 12 oz, the doctors finally have succumbed to my telling them (over and over and over) that I. Give. Birth. To. Little. People.
That's right, Zee was 5 lbs, 13.5 oz, the Yarn Sniffer was just over 5 lbs. This dude is even littler. I'm not worried, though ... they do grow up way too fast for my liking anyway and this buys me some extra snuggly time with a little peanut.

Truth is, though, I've felt pretty miserable for the past few days. My back is killing me, my hips are killing me ... "the girls" are huge (for me, anyway) and are killing me ... I'm just about done.
Good news is that he's really quite happy in there, and the induction has little to do with poor environmental controls. Plenty of fluid, happy placenta ... no reason to think of growth restriction or anything scary. Frankly, I attribute it to this whole gestational diabetes diet. After all, I've said all along that putting me on the stupid thing was counterintuitive -- it seems that for the last month (since the diagnosis and diet restrictions) his gain has slacked off and he's gone from being what they call "AGA" (average for gestational age) to borderline "SGA" (small for gestational age). One of the major risks of GDM is what they call "macrosomia" (big baby syndrome) -- when the baby gets flooded with sugar and, well, gets fat. I clearly don't have that problem. Dr. Awesome joined my fight against it last week and told me to keep sneaking carbs -- if only to hold him at his current weight -- and this week, Dr. Wonderful said those magic words:

Dr: So, how are your sugars?

Me (looking bored): Still non-existent. I can eat a huge plate of stuffed shrimp, bread, a baked potato, a cup of decaf with sugar and a big piece of baby shower cake and my sugar is 101 three hours later.

Dr. (looking a little defeated and a bit sheepish): I think it's safe to say that you're not having problems.

Vindication at last. That very afternoon I emailed the dietician to report ANOTHER week of ZERO weight gain (I lost a pound, he held steady) and asked if she still wanted numbers. She said no more. Thank heavens. So I haven't been sweating it, and I started eating normally again in the hopes that he'll be able to gain a few more ounces before moving day.

Knitting Progress

So, like so many others, I've been participating in the Summer of Socks. I joined for a few reasons: I wanted a kick in the rear to finally get a bunch of socks knit (I don't want to wear commercially made socks this winter) and I also wanted to try to boost my visitors and expand my blogger circle. Each week, the "updater" checks out the blogs she's been assigned and posts an update. Some updaters post longish writeups to hail the progress of their groups. I always read them and visit and comment. Our update posts are a bit too simple for my taste, and I have had few, if any, comments as a result. It's my luck, I suppose.

In other traffic news, I have developed a site where I can post patterns, finished objects, baby and big-kid pics and other things that folks might find interesting. The first thing up was my cuff-down conversion notes for Wendy's Southwestern Socks. She was kind enough to 1) let me do it and 2) mention the document in her blog and urge folks to come on over. To date, that page of my site has received 185 hits. But still no comments. Maybe I'm just not that interesting.
But progress is interesting to me, anyway. Remember how I said I loved the Conwy sock so much I didn't want it to end? Well, yesterday L'il I got himself a Conwy baby hat to come home in (I decided I'm not happy with the hat I did the other week):

I've cast on for a pair of Conwy socks to go with it. Hopefully those will be done today (unless he decides it is way too hot for socks and jumps ship before I can finish them).
I'm also still working on finishing up the Butterfly Lace sock that I started earlier this week. I can't really claim ownership on the stitch pattern, but I will be posting the sock specs as soon as they're done.

I have also toyed around with a Little Shell stitch to go with the Chewy Spaghetti yarn that was originally destined for (another) pair of Monkeys.

The match to the Southwestern Sock will be taken to the hospital with me and (hopefully) completed there.

It's Been a While

What can I say? New boss, busy two months (had my big convention ... a grueling seven days of 18-hr days with very little sleep or time "off"), busy baby and busy big boys.

Two new teeth in L'il I (he's not showing them; methinks what you see is a drooly reflection ... he smiles without showing his teeth).

Two lost by the Sniffer. It has not yet stopped him from eating corn on the cob:

We also had a Webelos camping trip thrown in for good measure. I can hardly believe how big my biggest boy is these days. (Note: This photo was taken at a prep session we had to teach the boys how new knots to tie and how to build a campfire...Weboree is a COMPETITION...)

No real knitting, other than a pair of socks I have to download pictures of. I knit them for a dear friend with bone cancer to keep her tootsies warm during radiation. But I don't want to discuss that right now.

Bummed and Buoyed

Bummed, because for some UNGODLY reason, I managed to miss the Yarn Harlot in Annapolis. Right in my own FREAKING backyard. I'm a dolt.

But I'm buoyed because MDSW is right around the corner! And the Cloverhill booth (my LYS) is gonna be cooler than Koigu. Go check their blog for more details... it's a countdown to the best part of Spring!

For What It's Worth

My blog is worth $564.54.
How much is your blog worth?

I have no idea how.

Anomaly.

Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction.

Indeed.

Believe it or not, there are women out there with three kids (some with three BOYS even) who actually find time to knit. And I mean knit. Not the "row here, row there" that I've been doing lately, but some gals actually finish things in a reasonable amount of time. Me? I've been working on a single sock for two weeks. Indeed.

I'm here still, folks. Alive and knitting, but crazy busy with life. Changes at work (new boss in two weeks; third boss in three years), interviewing a new member of my team today (keep your fingers crossed) and lots of time gearing up for our big scientific meeting in May. Busy indeed.

And the boys. What can I say? Last night they wanted to do silly pictures of the Brothers Three since it was L'il I's 7-month birthday. (I take pictures on the 12th of every month. I figured it would not only make a neat spread for his first birthday, but it would also make sure I take pictures of him regularly.) Aren't they sweet? Indeed.

They are indeed. They love their little brother more than just about anything. But how can you not love a little wee one that's so adorable? Not to mention that he's getting a lot more interesting these days ...

And the best is yet to come. Indeed.

When Life Gets in the Way of Blogging...

I've been struggling for the past two weeks trying to think of something to write for my TWO bloglines subscribers and coming up with nada. So today, in the interest of at least posting something, I thought it might be neat to go back two years and see what I posted about two years ago when the blog was still relatively new. You know, comment on what I might have posted, projects I was working on, etc.

Here's the post. There's nothing quite like wanting to go back in time ...

Heart and Soul

I rarely ever talk about my husband on this blog ... it is almost always about the knitting, or the kids, and besides, he rarely reads it anyway. But he does exist, really, and I do love him very much. And my big valentine has given me three beautiful littler ones ... even if they did all come with Y chromosomes. Because I don't buy into "Hallmark Holidays" I'll save the smushy gushy post for another day. But here is one of my favorite pictures of the two of us ... portrait of college lovers all grown up at a black-tie affair last year.






(And in my next post, there may actually be a photo of a sock -- gasp!)

The Eighth Dwarf

His name is Wheezy and I gave birth to him in August. On Friday, the heinous virus culminated with a diagnosis of RSV for the wee one. He's getting inhaler treatments, but he's doing great and we may have gotten through the worst of it without even knowing it.

Anyway, it was this diagnosis that made me almost not go to Spinner's Group on Friday night. After days of being home with sick people, though, sheer desperation (and the fact that I was taking Laura the loom I've had in my basement for too long) made me force myself to go. Didn't plan to spin, didn't even take a wheel with me.

It was a small group on Friday, three and a half, not counting me. (The "half" is Caroline's daughter Emily, and is a regular part of the group.) After talk of the loom and normal catchup talk, somehow talk turned to an orphan wheel that had been left at the shop with a note "Clemson Clemes Wheel / Free to a Good Home."

Curiousity got the best of me, particularly because Clemes & Clemes wheels seem to have a bit of a cult following. After taking off the ratty old stinky nasty wool on the bobbin and getting some help from Caroline about the wheel's double-drive tension, I got her going. Not a bad spin. So my home was good enough for the wheel, and it came home as a restoration project. My husband's face was priceless. But, as he always is when curious machinery is involved, he too was sucked in at some level of interest. I've been wiping and oiling and investigating and here's what I know so far, besides the fact that I seriously doubt it is a Clemes & Clemes

Look at this flyer. The eye bolts are clever, and almost Woolee-Winder-esque. They'll need new nuts to make sure they stay in place when I'm spinning (tension on the yarn pulls them towards me too fast and the yarn fills at the front faster than anywhere). But they're neat and old looking.

This wheel is sturdy, and I mean SOLID. I don't know what type of wood it is is made of, but it has held up well.

There are a few rough patches on the wheel, and some knicks on the knobs and over the Mother of All, but nothing a little sanding won't take care of.

The leather parts need some conditioning (the maiden has a leader thong-type assemble that the orifice slides into to hold the bobbin in place and it looks a little dry, as does the piece that attaches the footman to the wheel itself).

But above all, what I know more than anything is this: This wheel has POWER. It was obviously made for production! It may simply be that it's a double-drive wheel (my Traditional is single-drive and the Hitchiker has no drive), but this thing can twist. And the yarn it turned out was a respectable worsted that -- once I weigh it down to set the massive twist -- will be usable and strong.

It's a worthwhile addition to the spinning corner. Even though it makes my Traditional look downright dainty.

Ways that Life Sucks

Let me issue a disclaimer: It's been a really rough week so far and it is only Tuesday. Bear with me here.

There are times when we all get bogged down with life, and we gripe and moan about how it would be better to simply impale yourself on a size 15 Lantern Moon and be done with it. Consider the following (work with me until the end, please):

- Heating oil for my house currently costs $3.60 a gallon. We order 100 gallons at a time, keep the house thermostat at 69/70 and we still need to fill it every 2.5 weeks.

- The temperatures in the Mid-Atlantic have been downright frigid. Not as cold as it was for the Harlot on the day she had to walk to the bank, but damn cold for my neck of the woods. If I wanted it this cold, quite frankly, I'd move to Canada because it has a lot to love. And maybe the oil isn't $3.60 a gallon.

- Three out of four men in my house have been stricken with a hellish virus that felled my husband for two days with a 103 degree temperature and horrible coughs and gallons of snot. Yes, I said gallons. I have no means of measurement other than the tissue usage, but it's gotta me momentous because L'il I alone (whose snot I have to see, unfortunately) had his own weight in the stuff. The Sniffer is the only one who is so far unscathed and I can't quite figure that one out. Threats have been exchanged between him and Zee about germs, and one in particular (that I heard, anyway) was "Do you want me to spray you with Lysol again?" That "again" is a whole other story that I'll spare you for the time being.

- We have to register for FALL aftercare in January. But before that, you have to pay your monthly tuition. That's a TON of money to daycare, which has caused us to limp along (and I mean limp -- remember that virus? Lots of meds and tissues and soups here) until later this week when the next paycheck comes.

- One sentence: Two completely unexpected days off work during the busiest season of the year.

BUT NOW I WILL CLARIFY THIS RANT BY TELLING YOU ALL NOT TO WORRY ABOUT ME AND MY PROBLEMS AT ALL. DO NOT FEEL SORRY FOR THE SICKIES, OR THE MOBIUS SCARF THAT I HAVE RIPPED OUT A MILLION TIMES OR BOYS SPRAYING LYSOL AT EACH OTHER.

Gryphon tells the story well in this post, and I feel horrible for being so caught up in the sickness and not posting about it. But she's only about 15 minutes away in Easton, so it isn't as though someone far away posted. Plus, she knows one of the folks affected. Which brings me to the point of the post. Look around and I'll guarantee you can usually find something that sucks worse.

Now about Cambridge. First, go read Gryphon's post. I'll wait.




Are you back? OK. Let me tell you something about my hometown. Having grown up there, I can truthfully tell you that "sleepy" just isn't the word for it. For a while there, it was comatose. I made the decision at a young age that I wanted something more ... more active, more vibrant, more fun ... so I moved to "the city" for college, met my husband and stayed put. My folks still live there, and I wholeheartedly enjoy my visits. Downtown (which wasn't terrible when I was there, but on a downslide) is bouncing back with restaurants and shops -- this is THE place to go for antiques and awesome "waterfowl" type things like decoys, etc. -- and then tragedy strikes. To add insult to injury, the poor city (yes, it is actually classified as a city, and is the county seat of Dorchester County) had city news crews and helicopters (when I called my dad -- a deputy sheriff -- I could hear the whirring of the chopper) crawling around and reporting on all the other bad news. In addition to the fire, a hit and run at a bus stop left a kid dead and a guy I went to high school with suffered fire damage in excess of $100K to his business after a fire immediately following "the big one." My folks know the owners of the businesses that were hit and Gryphon's right -- it ain't pretty.

Now Gryphon is doing something that I wish I could do. She's donating 50% of her yarn profits to one of the businesses that suffered in the fire. Her yarn is divine so now's the time to make your yarn purchase count. Hurry up and get over there ... I'm limping behind you but will get there soon ...

Happy Happy!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

As usual, I've managed to miss a big day of posting, but I've certainly enjoyed reading everyone's New Year's Resolutions and comments about the holidays, and hope that this cute picture makes up for it :). And I'm realizing I'm not alone in many of my plans for the New Year, though at the end of this post I'm going to pose a solution for all of us who are dog-tired from holiday knitting and feeling a bit of the blechs that come in the new year after such a crafting frenzy. Factor in the fact that I've had the cold from hell for the past five weeks (I honestly forgot how much little people like to share their germs) and you can imagine the fatigue at Chez Spinneas. This weekend I made a decision to postpone taking the Christmas tree down in favor of plain old rest, fluids and easy knitting to try to get myself to a point where I can function a little better next week. Nursing a baby through the whole thing has been an extreme adventure in dehydration, and having the whole family home on vacation for nearly two weeks has been a lesson in frustration -- which certainly doesn't help! But whining doesn't do any good ...

First of all, I'd like to say that the Santa Fe beret was a big hit. Farmer Auntie (who is also a knitting auntie but not THE Knitting Auntie of Aran -- and Nanny -- Fame) donned it immediately, squealed with delight at all the right moments during the obligatory tale behind the piece, and wore it for our entire visit except for the 30 minutes when she took the big boys on a hike around the farm. The cool thing is that it actually matched the vest sweater she was wearing that day.



I also knit a pretty neato Koigu scarf for my mother-in-law, came in under the wire on Christmas Eve and got the sucker blocked. It turned out great -- knit with a double strand on size 8 straight needles:








There were other victories for presentts, but I'll spare you. There were also some UFOs, including Aran Auntie's Tea Cozy (it's coming, I swear), a scarf, and a beret for my cousin -- who's baby is only three months older than my L'il I. The beret has been an absolute nightmare, and I'm getting ready to start it for the THIRD time. In the midst of my absolute frustration with this pattern (though I LOVE the yarn -- Berrocco Jasper), I decided I needed something to settle down with. So I decided to tackle the mobius strip. Yeah, yeah, I know.



The crazy part? It worked. Last night I fiddled with the cast-on that's widely available online (the backward loop method -- check it out) and then today picked up Cat Bordhi's book. I swear I'm addicted to this process, and I'm enjoying my Fleece Artist mobius that I have been working on since early in the afternoon:







In addition to the Moebius, we've also enjoyed watching our littlest enjoy his first holiday season, including his saucer at Christmas and his books...



And that's life here at the Spinneas homestead. Maybe I'll tell more holiday stories from 2007 later. In the meantime, I'd like to say that my single resolution in 2008 is to AVOID the chaotic holiday knitting this year. And to do that, my plan is to knit one present per month from now until November. That's 11 knitted gifts, a record, and a way to help save my sanity at holiday time with a one-year-old toddling around. Anyone wanna join me?

The Coming of the Elves

Last night, while three little boys were asleep (one in his crib, thank goodness), three little folks arrived in our house (never mind that they look as though they're going to take flying leaps off the cornices).

Meet the Holly Brothers:

This is Harold Holly. The oldest of the three, he made his first appearance in 1998 when Zee was wee (tee hee).

And then there's Howard:

A spunky guy, he arrived in 2000 and watches out for the Sniffer. If you know the Sniffer, you know he has an air for the dramatic -- as evidenced by good old Howard here, who incidentally is wearing green -- the Sniffer's all-time favorite color.

And this year, we have a new addition that we have dubbed Henry:

My guess is that Santa sent him to play elf to L'il I ... who, after all, needs his own set of eyeballs that report to the Big Guy. I'll be sure to dress the babe in his red-striped PJs on Christmas Eve!

If you're interested in the legend of the Elves at Arunah (and beyond), check out last year's post that explains it all. There really is quite a bit of history to it, at least in my family.

Zee was a bit skeptical and L'il I ambivalent, but the Sniffer was positively ENCHANTED this morning when he realized the guys had arrived and that our elf family had expanded. He insisted that I take these pictures so he can put them in frames and hang them on the tree. Gotta love that kid.

Tis the Season

This is the time of year when we knit bloggers really can't post pictures of our work for fear of giving away the surprise. So some of us are mighty lucky to have cute babies to tide us over.

This past weekend, L'il I had his first bit of rice cereal. He's four months old so he's on the early end of the range for introducing complementary foods to a breastfed baby, but he's been showing a lot of signs he's ready, so we took the plunge. As you can see, he was not disappointed in the process of eating:

Most of the time wee ones just don't know what to do with their tongues when they're eating ... which is why they end up wearing most of it. By the end of the session, however, he seemed to have it pretty much figured out:

It was a big night at Chez Spinneas. The night before was equally big, as Zee advanced to receive his orange belt in karate:

The Sniffer, on the other hand, took a much more passive approach to his weekend, and snuggled most of the time.