Kiss My Knits!

I’m old enough to remember the fuel shortages of the 70’s. Not as a driver, just as a kid. That must have been mucho fun for Mom – having to sit and wait in a very long line with an antsy kid in the backseat. Actually, I might not have been in the backseat, since this was the 70’s. I don’t recall. But from time to time, as we waited in line, she’d let me out to play at the park that was right next door to where we were waiting. When the car would start moving again, she’d call to me and I’d run back to sit in it. That was unusual, though. Usually, I just sat. (Truthfully, I may just be remembering seeing other kids out there playing and imagining I was too. Mom might be able to tell me when she reads this.)

I was reminded of that as I saw cars jockeying for position today. People were generally fairly well-behaved, but apparently that wasn’t the case in some places. There were reports of fender benders, shouting matches, and fistfights.

People. People, people, people. Please. It’s not like there will never be any gas ever again. It’s just a little slow getting to us. If you don’t get in line with 3/4 of a tank full and top off your gas guzzling SUV, then there’ll be enough for everybody to go where they need to go.

I was also reminded of some oldies but goodies lying around my house – my beloved wartime Better Homes and Gardens. Let’s take a look at the ads in the October 1943 issue, shall we?

There were heating fuel shortages. This is the October issue, so winter was coming on, and there are quite a few ads for things you can do to help reduce your fuel use. If you’re going green, a lot of these still apply today. The Eagle Insulation ad, incidentally, was sponsored by the Eagle Paint Lead company. I hope the insulation business worked better for them than the lead paint business did. Yow.



There was a steel shortage, since it was going for the war effort. So good luck buying major appliances. That includes new cars. Take the bus to the laundromat and smile, willya?


To add insult to injury, I give you…

Knox’s Protein Point-Savers

This is touted as “A real man’s dish!” It’s a wonder more of our boys didn’t re-up if this is what was waiting for them at home. brrrrr…

In short: we’re low on gas, but it could be a lot worse. Suck it up, drive responsibly, be patient, don’t act like a jerk.

Rant over. Thank you.

Hey, fellow Charlotteans! Do you happen to know where there’s any gas in town? I held out for a long time, not wanting to add to the confusion and panic, but I’m finally down under a quarter of a tank. Little help on locations?

ETA: I found some, thanks! I got some in a reasonably short time at the Shell station at Tyvola and South Boulevard. The limit was $40 per person, and the attendant was going around putting up signs indicating he was out of midgrade and premium. $30 filled me up with regular, so all is well!

Somehow, I’ve gotten poison ivy on my left calf, and it itches constantly. Touching my leg anywhere near the patches produces such a blissful sense of relief that it’s very difficult not to scratch. Even going running yesterday, the air going past my legs was ticklish and unsettling. The water from the shower afterwards, though, was heavenly. There is further trouble because the weather has turned, and I have to either be cold in the morning or wear long pants. The pressure of the fabric makes me list a little to one side as I walk.

It’s so, so hard not to touch it. It’s almost irresistible. I would make a terrible heroin addict. Well, no, I would make a great heroin addict, I would make a terrible recovering heroin addict.

I had some address labels get stuck in my printer. All the bits have been picked out now, so Jayne hat shipping is back in business. Packing up kits and hats this morning, to go out to MO, HI, CA, and UT.

Often, when we take Em to a special event, it looks like she’s not having fun. She’s sitting on a pony, unsmiling. She’s riding the carousel, stonefaced. But for those who know her, there are subtle clues that she’s having a good time.

Today, a good time was had by all.

I ran this morning. It was a great day for it, nice and cool, and I was able to hang around the house until almost 11am before going. I took my Nike+ iPod thingie and did week 2 along the Greenway. Unfortunately, apparently I didn’t press some critical button at the very end, because while I thought it had recorded my workout, it didn’t.

Now, I accomplished my goal. I ran what I wanted to run, I got exercise which is good for my body, but somehow I still feel cheated. I like seeing my little bar graph on Nike+, and I feel like I didn’t get credit for today! Obviously it’s not about credit, but still. I WANT CREDIT. I ran well today, maybe I could have gotten some celebrity congratulating me on a job well done. Hmph. Stupid Nike + iPod.

It wasn’t my best run ever, but it wasn’t my worst – and it could have been. There’s a house being built along my route, and the driveway is torn up, with mud and bits of concrete sticking out. Normally I go in the road and run around that bit, especially on weekdays when there are construction trucks parked out front. Today I didn’t, because this is Festival in the Park weekend, and there were quite a few people on the sidewalks, coming to the fest from the parking places they’d found miles away. I thought it was best not to weave in and out among the strollers.

However, when I hit the broken driveway, my toe caught a bit of concrete, and I went flying. I was in kind of a controlled crash, arms flailing, stumbling at a good clip up the sidewalk. I didn’t actually fall, fortunately. I looked kind of like Daffy Duck in Robin Hood Daffy when he’s singing his “to trip it up and down” song.” As I mentioned, the normally deserted streets were quite crowded, so fest goers got some added entertainment.

You know, perhaps it’s for the best I didn’t get a congratulations. I don’t want to hear, “This is Mary Decker. Congratulations on a really good tumble!”

Anywho, that’s today’s workout story. I worked out, but don’t have a technological record of it. At least it’s burned into the memory of a dozen strangers who witnessed my unintentional comedy routine. That’s something, I guess.


For those of you poor, deprived souls who don’t know Robin Hood Daffy, here it is. The bit I’m referring to is from about :40 to 1:20.

Yoiks! And away!

Your result for The Classic Dames Test…

Rosalind Russell

You scored 29% grit, 48% wit, 19% flair, and 21% class!

Take The Classic Dames Test at HelloQuizzy

Em, by the way, did not wake us up to fix her clock. She did, however, wake up EXACTLY at six o’clock and ask what time it was. That girl’s internal chronometer is amazing.

Our power’s out. It went out about 5pm. First we saw a fire truck go by. Then an ambulance. Then we heard a helicopter. At that point, we had a pretty good idea of what happened. Apparently there was a huge wreck about a mile from our house. It’s been almost five hours, and power’s still out for miles around.

I’m over at my dad’s now, about to go back home to my husband. Em’s handling the weirdness well, and I’m proud of her. Of course, when the power goes back on, she’ll wake us up immediately to fix her alarm clock so it’s not flashing the wrong time, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.

Here’s hoping we can save a few things from our fridge – and that we’re not in the dark long! I’ll be b

Okay, I was just updating and then power went out here at Dad’s for a minute. Thank you, “autosave” feature on LiveJournal. So I’m not pressing my luck. Tvini out!

ETA: We’re back! Woot!

Em’s been wanting the latest Barbie movie to come out – Barbie and the Diamond Castle. She had a tough day yesterday, so I rented it today. Later on I’ll be using my Women’s Studies certificate from UNC to paper a birdcage.

Em likes to watch these movies with someone – in this case, me. And as pointless as this emotion is, I get absurdly angry sometimes at all the BFF stuff in these movies because I worry about Emily’s social life. Maternal instincts aren’t rational.

A more reasonable objection: a plot point so far seems to be these heart-shaped necklaces that I know for a fact come packaged with the dolls. I guess that’s nothing new – I remember hearing that the Star Trek Vulcan IDIC symbol was introduced into original Trek as a way to sell merchandise. I guess if that tactic is good enough for Roddenberry, it’s good enough for Mattel.

So hey, let’s wash the taint of Barbie away with a site that comes by way of Cheryl. It’s Lovely! I’ll Take It! It’s “what were they thinking?” pictures of homes on actual real estate listings. Good for some belly laughs.

Let’s say you’re out and about, and you see someone engaging in the activity pictured at the right. Maybe you haven’t seen someone do that before. Maybe your grandmother used to do this a lot, and you want to talk to me about it (I get this a lot). Maybe you want to learn how but don’t think you’ve got the patience (that comes up a lot too). What’s the first question you ask? If you’re like some idiots, it’s this:

“Did you crochet that whole thing?”

Buh… I… whu…

I don’t mind that they called it crochet. Most people don’t know one needlecraft from another, so that’s not a big deal. It’s the second part. Did I do the whole thing?

No. I did not do the whole thing. In fact, I mail ordered 2/3 of a completed sock and walk around pretending to knit it so that I can impress people. Now that you’ve seen through my cunning ruse, I’ll have to send off for something else. Maybe a half a tapestry.

The other part of that is that it’s a little insulting. I can hear the “all by yourself?” on the end of it. As if somehow it’s beyond human comprehension that little old me could have completed this eighth wonder of the world.

Of course, given the number of people who see me knit the Jayne hat over and over and think I’m working on the EXACT SAME HAT every single time they see me, for months on end, maybe that’s not such a crazy idea.

Of course, I just smile and answer their questions, because anytime you knit in public, you’re like an ambassador from the magical land of Yarnia. You want to put your best foot forward in case someone ever decides to visit. Secretly, of course, you can wish that some people would just stay home.

It’s my husband’s birthday today! His favorite cake is carrot cake, but I’m mindful of the fact that he’s lost 50 pounds over the last year, and I don’t want to set his progress back. (I say progress, but he could stop right now and be right at the medically ideal weight for his height.) With that in mind, I found a recipe for carrot cake cupcakes that said it made 12 servings. Easier to see exactly how much you’ve eaten if one cupcake is a serving.

Well, you see how this turned out. Personally, I’d consider 24 or so cupcakes to be more than 12 servings. Maybe it means 12 servings if one of the guests is Michael Phelps. Also, I have a cup of homemade cream cheese frosting leftover if anybody local wants it. It’s not the frosting from the recipe – it’s cream cheese, butter, powdered sugar, and a little vanilla. Normally, I like to bring extra food to my dad when we’ve got something really tasty, but there are times when I weigh the wisdom of bringing a sugar bomb to a diabetic. Eh, he’s a grown man, he can make his own dietary decisions.

My weight’s going up tonight, and I don’t care. Dad, I’ll be foisting a couple off on you tomorrow – I’m not going out on my hubby’s birthday!