tricks and treats

Carved pumpkin, Halloween, 2006
Gaggle of Ghosts!
Guys and Ghouls!
Ghosts are a Gas!
Ghastly Ghostly!
Oddly enough, I'm feeling a bit emotional this halloween. Ridiculous, I know. Hormonal, I'm sure. But the ghosts of our halloween pasts are stirred up. This is the first time that I have carved a pumpkin alone. It wasn't quite as fun, I'll tell you.

Boo You! Guess I'll turn on the tv and knit a while. Plenty of candy left over if you want some!

Blustery, nay, hurricane-ish Saturday sky

The wind is howling, the mums have flown off my porch and may be rolling around the neighborhood by now and the recycling bin has just rumbled across the porch on this windy and stormy Saturday Sky day!
Hang onto your hats!


Today was meant to be spending parents weekend time at the UNH football game. I think not! Sorry team, you'll just have to press on without us! Instead, our version of parents weekend will include sitting in a restaurant, eating lunch together. Hey, together is together!
Pray for my pumpkins!

cat challenge

Despite the calendar saying that it is still techinically autumn, the winter chill has been in the air. It smells like winter. Do you know that smell? It's too early to make it's stay, but it reminds us to get our wools in order. Nothing feels better than slipping wool socks over cold toes and ankles, does it?
Roomie Scarf is in full swing.

That's the Irish Hiking scarf that I have been drooling over for years. Or so it seems! Such a fun knit. And I am liking the stripes. Let's hope it's cool enough for college.
It's that time of year again!
The neighborhood kitty newsletter must have gone out with the yearly challenge of making me feel bad for a cold cat on my porch! Here's this years winner!

They always seem to be orange cats too. As I tried to open the door, you know, to shoo her away, she tried to RUN IN MY HOUSE. She then proceeded to roll around on the porch looking all CUTE, mewing pathetically. Making someone not happy.

I'm still a chick magnet!
The orange cat's remark?

I'm cute!
She's moved on now. There must be another challenge in the neighborhood.
~~~~
The other night, Andy called me and said, "Sandy, come down to the beach, QUICK!".
I jumped in the car so fast with visions of romantic dinners or strolls hand in hand. No. It was even better.

Eye Candy!
I'm too old for that romantic hand holding anyway! Rainbows, I like!

Yes, but did you buy anything?

Like many, I arrived at Rhinebeck with no expectation of carrying any yarn home. None. I reminded myself of the piles and piles of yarn at home awaiting their turn on the needles.
Yeah.
Who believes it, raise your needles? That's what I thought. Not one of you.

My first purchase of the weekend, approximately 3 1/2 minutes after arriving on the hallowed grounds called Rhinebeck. Spirit Trails sock yarn. I carried it lovingly around, talked myself out of it, you know, buying something at the first booth and all, talked myself back INTO it and soon it found it's way into my bag and heart.

A mitten kit from GREEN Mountain Spinnery sold at the same time as it's fraternal twin residing in Norma's home. (I have been known to freely call it VERMONT Mountain Spinnery. Clearly, I was wrong. Mea Culpa) (yes, this is now a bilingual blog, for those many a reader who would rather see blog entries in Latin)

Oh, yeah, I should have warned you to reach for your sunglasses on that one. PINK, doncha think? On Friday evening, as I sat in the hotel with my people, Bethany called and we had the following conversation:
"Mom, I told my roommate you were going to some kind of knitter thing this weekend. She said, 'Your Mom knits?' I told her ' DOES MY MOM KNIT????' And she asked me if you would knit her a pink striped scarf."
"And some mittens"
"And perhaps a hat"
WILL I??? You see, I am not that generous with my knitting time. But Bethany (as well as Derek) both view my knitting with that eye rolling kind of scorn that only teenagers can pull off successfully and I figured that if I knit the roommate a scarf set (let's just start with a scarf, shall we?) my personal cool quotient may be risen just a bit in my daughter's eyes. That has to be a good thing, doesn't it? It is, afterall, very very cold in New Hampshire.
The pink is Morehouse Merino by the way.
Don't worry, there's more.
Onto the hard to photograph yarn. Camera shy, I guess.

On the left is a skein of Mountain Colors Bearfoot. My love affair with Mountain Colors has not faded. And on the right is VERMONT/GREEN Mountain Spinnery Alapaca Elegance destined to be a hat for Andy, who has been making that pouty face lately. You know, "you never knit anything for me" kind of pouty. The dirge of knitters everywhere.

Oh, here's a craptastic picture of some fantastic yarn. Tongue river Farm Sock Collection Kit. On my last trip to the NY Sheep and Wool, I left without this kit and with a sockload of buyers remorse. Or perhaps that would more accurately be "You snooze, You lose" remorse. This was the ONLY thing I technically was going to buy. Huh. Funny one, huh?

This wonderful t-shirt was a gift from Miss Norma. Thank you, Nor! Don't you love it? Norma (Martha Stewart has NOTHING on my friend Norma) showed up bearing gifts. Lots and lots of gifts. I came THIS close to stealing a jar of her homemade jam and eating it all as a midnight snack but for a gal with recently diagnosed diabetes, I thought better of it)
And Paula, one of my other roommates, generously gave me this, making me crave apples with it's beautiful colors!

Fleece Artist Roving, baby! Don't you love how they braid it? Paula is one of the most talented knitters I have ever met. She is quiet and lovely and brimming with talent. Give her blog a peruse and see for youself.
And can I live with myself if I don't mention my other roomie? Leigh! Leigh has disappeared from blogging as of late. But not from my heart. We could all go over there and pester her to begin her blogging. She has lots to share.
~My wallet is light. My heart is full. My body is inappropriately exhausted. I have more knitting to do than Carter has Liver pills. Did your mother used to say that? Mine did.
I leave you (finally!) with one more picture:

Dave's wonderful Kilt hose, finished in the knick of time to wear to the festival. I should have taken notes and....
Walked Away.

In which she damages a vocal cord

Have you ever wondered if you talk TOO much will there be consequences? I submit to you that it DOES matter. Silence IS golden. My left vocal cord is protesting very much. The last 24 hours, if it starts to rumble even a bit, there is a cramping, searing pain. Sort of a reminder of how much freaking fun I had this weekend while at The NY Sheep and Wool, Rhinebeck to all of us in the know! (you too)
I wonder how you adequately describe being with people that instantly are friends. It's a bit impossible.
And you will be seeing lots and lots of photos like this one over the next week, I'm sure.

(NO! I do not mean, yellow and grainy! I mean stuffed with knitters!)
I strive to show you the other side of the knit-togethers. The hidden side.
I give you....Rhinebeck as seen by Sandy.

Not only yarn, but the rare gems and MINERIALS. Very rare indeed.
Who wants to check out those WINE CRAFTS??

What kind of beers did you plant?

How can a knitter have ANY fun with these strict rules??

Did you really think you were getting out of this without a sky shot? Come on.

good messages prevail

Speak another language? The message is for you too!

This one is like those 3-D pictures, you have to focus in on it for a minute before you can see what you are really looking at. (NO! I don't mean yellow and grainy! STOP THAT!) A hat. Yes, you heard me. A hat.

Right as I was about to start whining and crying in the diner during breakfast, I saw this on the menu. I stopped. I was hungry and did not want to be kicked out. Rules are rules.

Ed. The Eveready Diner

More complete photo of Ed. And random diner diners.

Good message. I hope you saw it if you were there. (henna hand owned by Miss Leigh, who WILL start blogging again if she does not want a dose Of Sandysknitting Whoopass!)

You said it, brothah! (LOST reference. Extra blog points if you recognized it) (NOTE: Blog points are not real and cannot be redeemed. Ever.)
Fun seems like an inadequate word for the comfort that I felt this weekend. I miss it already.
I am on vacation this week, so I plan to sit here in my beat up pajamas (the ones I would not wear even among friends) until I WANT to dress in clothes.
It may take a while!

I'm a round and a square

I'm a square!

On Saturday and Sunday.
And I'm round.
That's your hint to find me.

ME on the right. Wearing Buffalo Brownski everyday cardigan. I will probably be wearing that one of the days.
I did not finish the vermont mountain mohair sweater in time. I gave up. Because of wrist pain. What good is a cramped up knitter at a sheep and wool festival? I do think this is a sweater that will look much better after losing a bit more weight anyway. So, I threw the needles in. Gave up. And went to bed.
Sure, I won't have a new sweater. But I'll be rested!
Be there. And be a square!

A green sweater with 1 1/2 sleeves

I'm trying to finish the second sleeve to the Knitting Pure and Simple sweater (yarn is Vermont Mountain Mohair, colorway Moss) so I can wear this while attending the Sheep and Wool Festival in Rhinebeck, NY this weekend.
I mean, I may be wearing it. I'm not sure it will fit. Sure, I've tried it on. One time it fit perfectly. The next it seemed a bit small. The next I loved it. Next: hated it.
What will happen will be a mystery, even to me. I will wear it. Or I won't. I'll wear something you can rest assured. I guess if I did not wear anything, I'd be easier to pick me out in the crowd. Although, you'd be sure to need some therapy after that one, I'm sure.
I can't wait to go. And of course, I get the attack of nerves that everyone gets. We all turn into second graders heading to the first sleep over. You know, "what if they don't like me!".
Must knit now. Sleeves don't knit themselves you know!

My hands are so fetching

Fetching. You should make some, I'm serious.

One day, I mentioned to my Yarn P*i*m*p that I might stop at the yarn store on the way home. Not for just any yarn, but some Debbie Bliss Cashmerino Aran for fetching. Norma, being the yarn p*i*m*p that she is, has some in her stash, willing to hand it over. No yarn store shopping for me, and the next day, yarn arrives on my doorstep. I still don't know how she got it here so fast. She must have drove it down on the pony express herself, I swear!
I cast on Friday night. By Sunday, I had me a pair of Fetching handwarmers. They are comfortable and luxiourious feeling. A wonderful match of yarn and pattern.
Verdict? I love them. You will too. Make them, you won't be sorry!

"So Fetching, do you have any tuna in there?"
Notice the fabulously chic chipped and peeled paint on the porch. Some people strive for that look. Others? Just naturally blessed.
~~
Flower watch:
The hydrangeas have turned a deeper shade of red(ish) than I have ever seen. I wonder what that means?

Hmm. This pictures says more pink, but it's deeper.
And the mums? Today these opened up to reveal a surprise inside: Yellow!


Love my mums.
~~
What are you waiting for? Did you order some Debbie Bliss Cashmerino Aran yet? You could have a pair of handwarmers by Friday!
:)

I've been to a strange world, my friend..

And that world is called RUGBY. It is a world that I neither understand nor "get". It seems to me that Rugby may just be a way for boys to bully each other on the field. (I did not watch women's rugby, so I can't judge about the girl bullies)
I spent a mighty cold Friday evening planted upon a metal bleacher at UMass Lowell to see Derek (maybe) play rugby.

Where is Derek?

He is standing on the sidelines, grey hooded sweatshirt, black shorts, red knee socks.
And I don't care who you are?

THIS is uncomfortable!
~~
I'm sure I would have liked the game better if I understood one thing that went on. I have some studying to do. But I'm not sure I can like a game that is rife with injuries including a broken neck to one of the players that night.
Perhaps it might be best if this is only a father spectator sport?
~~
More on this tomorrow:

A fair evening

I'm running around to catch my tail. The tail is winning. I can't keep up this week.
I am grateful to each and every one of you who sent along good wishes for Bethany's heart break, for sharing your stories and helping one teenage girl to realize that she is not alone. I am grateful to you. For her and my sake. I wish that I had the time to email you all back with profuse thanks. Forgive me if I don't.
Time heals. It's cliche. But true. She is feeling better and looking at college life through new eyes. All of it is not bad.
Life gets in my way. Or more specifically, in the way of blogging. Despite my best plans for the afternoon, I got caught up in a necessary job. Instead of the blogging. I realized the refrigerator was stuffed full and not much of it was recent food. It had to be cleaned out. Way in the back, I'm embarassed to say that I found rice that had turned pink. Pink is not a good color for rice. Fried rice did not happen. I'm not proud, but you can better understand why I was distracted.
Remember that. Pink Rice = Bad.
Always. Always.
~~~
Andy and I went to the Topsfield Fair last night. It was a beautiful, mild evening, just right for walking around the exhibits.
Chubby Checker was singing in concert.

I thought I heard him singing Blueberry Hill, but I think that Fats Domino sang that. I could be confused.
Huge Pumpkins:

Good looking chickens:

Newborn joy:

Toddlers:

Do you know any of these spinners?

Who knew?

Sheep in Dreads

My favorite site of the whole night! One pooped pup!

Give him a recliner chair and he is alot like Andy in the evening. Head bobbing to stay awake!
Leaving the fair to get home in time to watch LOST:

Priceless!

Breaking hearts. Mitten Monday will be postponed for now

Do you remember your first heartbreak? How could you forget really.
Bethany called me at work this afternoon. My skin went cold as I heard her sobbing on the other end. When she finally found her voice, she told me that boyfriend Pete broke up with her. The love of her life. Her first love.
I have to admit to a bit of an internal sigh of relief that it was not a physical hurt. You know, a call with crying? Automatically visions of wrecked metal and bones spring to mind. This hurt was not to be seen. It is a heart break. And acual breaking of the heart. The soul hurts. The body follows with a stomach ache.
What's a mother to do? I think back to what my mother said for me when my heart was hurting because of a boy named Steve. "You're better off. He's an asshole". Now, in retrospect, she was absolutely right. But it has taken many years to see that clearly. I was not about to utter those words. How I had wished to have a meaningful conversation in my younger life. I took that opportunity with my daughter.
All I can do is listen. And wipe the tears. And hug. Lots of hugs. And shed some tears along with hers. And talk. And listen. Lots and lots of listening.
My heart hurts along with hers. She has lost not only her boyfriend but her best friend. A double blow. Bethany is not one to make lots of friends easily. Let's hope another friend crosses her path soon!
Tomorrow she has to go back to college. For me, it's more worrying.
Mitten Monday will have to wait a bit. Life calls.