Let it go!

Last night there were only three things that I was interested in at the Oscars. 1. Ellen DeGeneres hosting (she's witty and silly and also very pretty). 2. That Frozen won for Best Animated Feature Film (it did). 3. That Let it Go won for Best Original Song from a Major Motion Picture (it did). So all in all it was a good night at the Oscars.  Leonardo DiCaprio still hasn't taken home an Oscar (but then neither has Johnny Depp - both a shame IMO). Lupita Nyong'o made a lovely acceptance speech. I love watching happy Italian directors and producers win Oscars for Best Foreign Film. They are always so exuberant.

But Frozen was my main concern this year. I've seen the other nominees and enjoyed watching them, but Frozen was what I wanted to see win. I loved the animation, the script, the dialogue, the songs, the artwork, the Norwegian details (hey, there was knitting!), and the characters, especially the trolls. I have the soundtrack and sing with all the songs. I know all the words. I can sing several different parts. I love snow and snowflakes. I have it pre-ordered fom Disney so I can get the bonus lithographs. Seriously, I love this movie.

Having said all that There was one part of the movie that just really bothered me and no it isn't part of the "Frozen is a metaphor for homosexuality" argument. (If you don't know what I'm talking about Google it. Although I totally see how Let it Go is a beautiful coming out anthem.) No, I'm talking about  Elsa and Anna's parents. Not that they were royalty or that they died. I call it the Rudolph syndrome. Rather than embrace a child's uniqueness, they hid it. I keep thinking about what I would have done had it been my child who had been born with such a different ability. You see, I would have liked it if Elsa's parents had talked to the trolls a bit more about other options than erasing Anna's memories of her sister's magic. Perhaps understanding that her sister is magical and that it isn't something to be played with so recklessly would have been a better cure than erasing that memory from her. I also wouldn't have made Elsa feel guilty for hurting her sister and making her feel like she is a monster. All that pent up energy only made things worse for her. I would never have allowed Elsa to isolate herself from the rest of her family, especially a beloved sister (I have daughters and I've seen what happens when they don't get along and shut each other out even for short periods of time). I would have found a way to help Elsa control her powers and understand the magic behind it. I wouldn't have told her to "conceal don't feel." Perhaps that worked for her father who had limited frozen powers, but not for Elsa. And certainly not for Anna who totally didn't understand why her sister suddenly didn't want to go build a snowman with her. I would have found someone to teach Elsa how to use her power for goodness, not shut the gates and push her to loathing herself and her powers and thinking that she was a danger to everyone. The way those two little girls grew up was not healthy and they needed each other.

Of course I realize that if Elsa and Anna's parents had been more like me that there wouldn't have been a very good movie. It would have gone something like this: Kristoff would have grown up as an (presumably) orphan ice cutter with a reindeer and trolls for family; Elsa and Anna would have grown up healthy and happy, riding their bikes in the halls and, under supervision, making snowmen in the ballroom; the parents would have still died (I mean they did have to go on some big trip, so let's go ahead and kill of the mom and dad); Elsa would have come to age and become queen and she would give her people the gift of a little bit of eternal winter in the courtyard; Anna would have married Hans (although there might have been a plot there because he was sort of dastardly and envious of anyone with power); and Kristoff would have grown into a bitter old lonely man talking to reindeer and rocks. So yeah, I guess we have to have a little bit of "less than stellar" parenting in order to have a beautiful movie.

Besides, both my daughters (about the same age difference as Elsa and Anna) love this movie and my son does have sort of square-shaped pear-shaped weirdness to his feet. (And even though he washes well he always ends up sort of smelly, but you'll never meet a fella who's as sensitive and sweet.) So I'm going to let it go and celebrate that Frozen won and Idina Menzel did such a lovely job presenting it last night.

Book Review: Cora's Heart by Rachael Herron

As I said yesterday, my friend, Rachael Herron, has a new book coming out on Tuesday. The title is Pack up the Moon and I can't wait for it to come out. But, since it isn't out yet and I haven't gotten to read it yet, I wanted to still give her a hearty plug because she is my friend and I love her books. And not because she is my friend. But because she writes about real people and sultry dark handsome men (many of them cowboys of a sort).

I recently re-read Cora's Heart so it is fairly fresh in my brain. The short review: I loved it! No truly, it was a lovely book and I both couldn't wait to get to the end and was sad when it was over. (I love books that do that!)

Cora's Heart is a sweet story of mis-crossed lovers. She loved him. He loved her. She ended up married to someone else (his cousin in fact - no not a spoiler) then her husband dies and what a mess that leaves. Cora is strong, yet she needs help and doesn't even know it. She's a planner, a prepper, a meet it before it happens kind of gal. She takes no bull from anyone, but in reality she is tender and fragile. She would break easily if she only knew she was as tender as the teacups she loves to drink from. This is the fourth book in the Cypress Hollow Yarn series (there are also two novellas which are also well worth reading). Yet once again the late Eliza Carpenter, who is so wise and dispenses wonderful wisdom disguised as knitting advice, manages to bring together two of Cypress Hollow's residents in an odd turn of misery to love. I love Cora and her story is delicately told by a darling storyteller. If you love yarn, love romance, and love well-rounded characters then you need to grab a copy of this book.

Unfortunately, this book is not available at Barnes and Noble, but it is available as a Nook download. I'm not sure why this one book isn't available in a paper format, but it isn't. If you do want a paper copy rather than a digital copy, you can purchase them through Amazon. (Note: I am not a fan of Amazon. I truly believe that Amazon is trying to strategically destroy brick and mortar bookstores whether they are independent or a "big box" like Barnes and Noble. I truly love going into a bookstore and holding books and thumbing through them to see if they are the right book. I do own a Nook and do purchase digital books from time to time, but my first love is the printed word and being able to go into a bookstore and browse for hours to find the perfect book. So off my soapbox now.)

My favorite character in all of Rachael's books is one that we rarely see. Her name is Eliza Carpenter. She's deceased in all the books, but her spirit lives on. She is a very Elizabeth Zimmerman like character. She is a famed knitter (and spinner) who had much to say about knitting and life. She knew exactly how to reach out to someone in need and she knew how people would respond to different stimuli in the future. Sometimes she would make plans for people ten or more years down the road because she knew the very fiber of their being. Her gentle, but no-nonsense, demeanor makes any fiber person yearn for someone like her in their lives. I forget sometimes that Eliza Carpenter wasn't a real person. I know logically that Eliza Carpenter is a creation of Rachael's brain and heart. Eliza is real in that she is Rachael. I wish I had an Eliza in my life. someone who knows better what I want than I do. Who assures me that knitting and spinning and my love of fibery goodness isn't silly or only a hobby. That it is something that speaks to my heart.

So go out and buy a Rachael book. Or at least borrow one from the library. You will appreciate yourself for it. And perhaps you will find a new author to fall in love with. Oh and Rachael is such a doll.

On address labels

I have lived in my house in Ohio since the end of May last year. One would think that by now, nine months later, that I would have procured return address labels. I had plenty when I lived in Florida. However, each time I go on line and begin the process of purchasing labels I find that I have too many choices and can't decide on a set of 125 stickers for less than $10. One would think this would be easy.  I'm a knitter and there are several yarn or knitting designs to choose from. Or perhaps I want to express myself as a writer, so I pick one of several pens or quills.  I also read and there are book address labels. I like blue and flowers. Several of those are available.  What about cooking?  There are chef hats, spoons, pots and pans, bread, cake, and pie designs. Flowers of all kinds. But no. I can't decide how I would like to express myself on a 3/4"x2" paper sticker that will go in the upper left hand corner of the very few pieces of mail I send out each week. Mostly I write letters to my friend Naomi. So in reality she would be the only person who would actually see or even pay any attention to the labels.  She has labels. She has just fine dandy labels. They have her name and address on them and if, for whatever reason, her letter didn't reach me the postal service would know where to return the letter and when I get her letters I know they are from her. That is all this piece of paper needs to do.

I don't have this issue with other things. I can easily plop down $20 or $30 for a skein of yarn without thinking twice about it. I've purchased fabric with no thought as to what it will become that is $9 a yard. Sits in my fabric bins sometimes for months or years before being cut. I buy cards and stationary with almost reckless abandon. (I have more stationary than I have pen pals.) You do not want to see how much tea I have in my cupboards. Or how many teacups I have. It's almost embarrassing. I can name characters in my stories without too much thought. When I needed the name of a quiet confidant-lacking college student within minutes she was named Danielle. I buy books based on the cover (yes, I really do sometimes), or a two-paragraph synopsis on the back, or because it is written by a favorite author and I have no idea what it is about, but I like that person's writing. (Shameless plug for a friend: Rachael Herron's next book is due out on Tuesday, so go buy it. I have no idea what the plot is, but I have two copies on order. Don't ask why. I don't know myself. But here's a link where you can order it:
Pack up the Moon by Rachael Herron I'm sure it is available through other sources, but this is my preference for online ordering. If you want to support a more independent source you can go here to Powell's.)

I've brought cats home with less thought than I have trying to pick out a set of stickers for my envelopes. There is something wrong with this whole picture. I love living in Ohio. I love my house. I love the street on which I live. I refuse to ever move back to Florida. So why can't I find a set of labels that appeals to me? Labels for Pete's sake. This is not a big decision. This is not like choosing a car (also spent less time on that decision), or whether to go to Disney World on vacation or go try something new. I even have a window open at this very minute at Vista Print where I am once again going through all (and they have many) their labels trying to pick just one set. That's all. I just need one set of labels. this indecision shouldn't be happening. I shouldn't be writing an entire blog post about address labels. I should just go and pick one out.

I'll let you know if I decide something. Meanwhile, go order Rachael's book.

Oh my poor sad neglected little blog

I'm almost embarrassed enough to not post this and pretend that I've never even had a blog. Almost. But then I'm reckless enough to also pretend that I can pick this blog back up, shake it off, and reconstruct it somehow.  I intend to blog. I think about blogging often. I find some little witticism that I think would make a nice blog post and thinking about it is as far as it gets. I haven't been idle in the past nearly eighteen months. My life certainly hasn't been stagnant. I could perhaps even delude myself that I have been too busy to blog. The truth is that I've simply been lazy.

So a quick recap of what has happened in the past year and a half. I wrote and edited some on my books. A few are even to the polished enough state to submit for querying. I've done a bit (but not enough) querying as well. I've cooked a bunch of new recipes. Some I've enjoyed. Some had their leftovers become their own little ecosystems in the back of the refrigerator. I've knit a bunch. Socks, shawls, scarves, more shawls, cowls, mittens, and a sweater. The sweater is back to a WIP (that's Work In Progress for you non-crafters) status as I decided I didn't like the yoke. I've since reknit the yoke, taken out the button bands and then promptly ignored it because I ran into a math issue. Actually it's more of a counting issue and I don't have my friend Julie here to count stitches for me. Or tell me to do it myself. And I moved a thousand miles.

Yep. I moved to the state of Ohio. Northern Ohio. I am in the midst of my first real winter in 20 years. I'm living in a hundred year old bungalow with creaky wood floors, a spider-riddled basement, and a finished attic which is my office and creation space. It's a light and airy loft and I can sit here and write, spin, knit, sew, and muse. It's also where I can give guests a room of their own when they come visit me. (So come and visit me.) This house also comes with its own ghost. I've yet to meet her. She tends to stay just out of sight, but she likes to giggle. She also calls me Mama and when I turn to see who is talking to me I hear a lilting giggle move through the room.

I am loving Ohio. It has four distinct seasons with a summer that isn't too unbearable. Which is a good thing as there is no air conditioning in this one hundred year old house. Oh and no air conditioning or heat in the attic which is why I am now the owner of box fans and a personal heater. Both make this space comfortable enough to return to. There are hiking trails all over the place and tons of green spaces to enjoy. I have my library card and am a Friend of the Highland Square Library. I was able to transfer to the bookstore here, but wasn't able to retain my children's lead position. (Did I ever blog that I became the children's lead at my old store? Oh, well, I did and I loved it.)  I don't mind not having a full time job as there is so much to do here outside of work, but I will freely admit that I love my employee discount. It isn't my ideal job. Ideally I would own a yarn shop and host all kinds of fun fiber adventures, but that is for a future time.

I have a new knitting group. They adopted me (or perhaps they stole me) before I even moved up here. As soon as I put out feelers for knitting groups in the area I was felt up and accosted by three of the sweetest women I have ever known. Sadly, one of those women, Donna-Marie, recently passed away and I miss her something fierce, but I knit on. We've had some great adventures going to fiber festivals, yarn crawls, and getting together just as friends to eat, knit, and go to movies. They are there for you and that's what everyone needs in their lives. Friends that are there for you.

My grandmother also died this past fall. I was sad, but I think that Granny died for me quite some time ago when she started forgetting me. I'm the oldest grandchild. The first. And she would forget who I was. How I was related to her. Who my children were. I think I mourned the loss of her years before she actually died. I think the thing that I am saddest about is that I still can't make biscuits like her biscuits. I've come close, but mostly I end up with pale little lumps. I've made them exactly like she taught me, even using my left hand to stir the dough. It's how her mother taught her and how she taught me. "Don't over stir it and always stir it with your left hand counter clockwise." Still they turn out hard or lumpy or flat. I'll still persevere to make them though. For Granny. She was the one who supplied me with books, secretly letting me read shocking romance novels far beyond my maturity. Although looking back at them, they were far less shocking than today's genre of erotic romance novels. She also was the one who taught me to crochet, thus leading my mother to finally relent and teach me to knit. So, thank you, Granny, for stirring my passions.

So, that's a small wrap up of what has been going on the past year or so. Ch-ch-ch-changes. And they are good. I like change. I live fresh things, new ideas, and attempting the previously unattempted. In fact I recently bought a Zoom Loom, a 4x4 pin loom to try a little weaving. I like the idea of a small portable weaving project and my Younger Daughter has suggested that it would be the perfect little project to use up leftover yarn from projects. She even has me thinking about using the squares made to create an afghan. Something that is added to as a sort of memory throw of all my projects.  I like this idea. My friend, Donna-Marie, had the same sort of afghan going that she knit on using mitered squares from leftover bits and pieces. That may be something that I can manage. And I could stay true to my vow to never knit an afghan because it would be woven.

Hopefully, I won't neglect this blog so badly again. If you haven't seen me post in a while give me a nudge through a comment or on Facebook or Twitter if you follow me on those. And keep on knitting or writing or cooking or just reading.

A not quite so epic fail

(Note: This was a blog post that I found in my drafts.  For some reason it never posted even though I wrote it over a year ago.  Somehow I missed it, but I find that I really enjoyed it, so I decided to upload it just for fun.  I think the message is something I need to remind myself of periodically.)

As you may have noticed I didn't blog at all this weekend.  No recipes.  No message on spirituality.  I completely dropped the ball on my Grand Plan to blog every day for the summer.  I will not beat myself up over it.  I'll just keep moving on.  This weekend was busy.  I worked both Saturday and Sunday and then had to do all the things I formerly had always accomplished on the weekends like the weekly grocery shopping, trip to Target, spending time with my kids and spouse.  A busy, but pleasant weekend. 

Today starts the made countdown to the end of an era.  The final Harry Potter movie is released at midnight on Friday (or Thursday - however you want to view it).  We won't be seeing it until the 12:15 showing so it really will be Friday when we see it.  I'm dressing as Professor Sprout, although I still have to dye my witchy robes and finish making my hat.  My son is going as Random Hufflepuff Quidditch Fan Number 27.  My younger daughter is dressing as Gilderoy Lockhart, complete with a copy of Magical Me.  My older daughter and spouse are not dressing up.  The spouse doesn't get into the entire "dressing up for movies" thing and my oldest child says that she is "too sad to dress up."  I think she's being too melodramatic.  I do understand that she is sad.  She's grown up with Harry.  She was 8 when she read the first book and fell in love with the Wizarding World.  She has had a Harry Potter birthday almost every year since she turned 9 thanks to the release of a book or movie around her birthday.  She watched Mugglenet grow from a strange little blog to this large monstrosity.  She's read every book at least four times and watched ever movie at least ten times.  She has dressed as Tonks, Bellatrix, Hermione, Rita Skeeter (my favorite of all her costumes) and Random Ravenclaw Student Number 2 (her best friend went as Random Ravenclaw Student Number 1 and her sister as Random Ravenclaw Student Number 3).  Part of me truly understands how she is depressed and can't put energy into a costume, but the other part of me can't figure out for the life of me why she would pass up on this one last opportunity to be part of the excitement. 

So I didn't blog.  Sue me.  I can live with missing two days.  And I'll probably miss other days as well.  I'm ok with that.  At first I was a bit upset that I had let myself (mostly) and my readers (hey you three) down.  I was going to offer up some sort of penance.  I was going to lash myself with a cat-o-nine tails made of Red Heart Super Saver.  I was going to jab size 000 DPN's under my skin until I howled with pain.  But then I realized, that it was just a blog.  It wasn't the Harry Potter world ending.  It wasn't the last of a series of really fun movies.  It wasn't Voldemort swooping down to enslave Muggles.  It was just a blog.  Not an epic fail.  Just a couple thousand (if that) words on a computer screen.  It wasn't going to end wars or establish peace.  It was just a blog.

Busy few weeks

My Olympic challenge was to make a lace shawl in the 16 days that the Olympics were taking place.  And I did it with time to spare.  I also managed since my last post to finish my Clapotis which is very lovely and drapes nicely.  And I'm currently test knitting a pattern for a pair of socks for someone.  It's going well and shouldn't take me long. 

I'm settling well into my new creation station (which still doesn't have a name other than the old sun room or the new room place) except I'm having issues with Daughter Number One invading it and leaving her crap stuff all over my place.  She cleaned her room earlier this year so she could create it in and slowly all of her crap stuff is invading my space.  I don't mind so much that she creates in here, I just wish she would pick up her stuff and put it away when she is done so that when I get up and want to create I have somewhere to do that.  Meanwhile she is adding lots of new things to her Etsy shop that are fun and creative. I love that she is so creative.  I just don't love the mess she leaves behind.  It's my space yet I can't use it with her things all over the place. 

My biggest "time suck" has been work.  I am not complaining.  I'm enjoying it and have been training for a potential new position.  (Everyone keep your fingers crossed.)  It's been fun learning new things and interacting with different people.  I'm hoping something becomes more permanent with this position in the next week or so.  I hate sitting on the fence waiting for something to happen.  I'm also not working in that department all the time, just sporadically so there are times when I feel like I am not getting anything accomplished as I will work there for two days and then get uprooted and thrown into a totally different department and lose the momentum I had a particular project.  By the time I get back there I have to back track to get things situated so I can go back to working on what I had been.  And there are projects that I know need to get done but because I am not there all the time to do them and the people who step into that department after me don't see me as an authority figure the notes that I leave are not being paid attention to so stuff just doesn't get done.

It's sort of like walking into your craft space and finding that other people have created in it and left it a mess.

Moving in day!

After much toil, trial, tribulation, tears and tearing out of hair, I was able to finally deem the room done and move my "stuff" back in!  What a very exciting thing it was.  But before I actually moved anything into the room, I cleaned it out of all the plastic covering on the floor, the blue tape around the windows, the various ladders, tools and paint supplies.  I swept the floor very well and then I danced silly twirling dances with Boo (as the boy wouldn't join in such a wild rumpus).  I figured if I was going to have a clean open space that I would take advantage of it at least once for something fun and silly.

So I moved in the sewing machine, spinning wheel, ironing board, and my old desk.  I bought and assembled 2 sets of metal shelves and put all my stash (both fabric and fiber) as well as all my paper, rubberstamps, ink, and a few paper supplies.  I've decided to do the 6 month approach to anything else moving into the room.  Whatever I don't use in the next six months does not come back into the room.

The room.  That's what we keep calling it.  I don't really know what to call it.  I don't really care for "hobby room" because I envision it to be so much more.  It's not really the sun room  any longer as I did take out half the windows.  It still has quite a bit of light, but it isn't truly a sun room.  So if you have any good suggestions on what to call this room, leave your suggestions in the comments section.

My next task is to cut out curtains for this room.  It's all echoey and hollow-sounding and needs things to buffer the noise.  Curtains are in order and after that I'm not sure what.  I'm betting getting some soft furniture in here will help as well. 

In knitting news, I have new shoes.  Yes, this is a knitting related statement.  See?  They are Danskos if anyone is interested.  Yes, Dansko shoes with knitting on them.  As many people who have seen them in person have commented, "They are quite ... well ... ugly, but so very you."  They are pretty and shiny and have knitting on them.  I love them.  And you should too.  Even if on my feet alone.  I justified their expense because I needed new work shoes and the shoe repair place that I took my last pair of Danskos to lost my shoes.  Yes.  Lost my shoes.  How does one lose a pair of shoes that are connected together and in a plastic bag?  I'm quite upset and he has been ignoring my calls to find out where my shoes are.

But in the real knitting news, I've been working hard at the Ravellenic games.  These would be the aforementioned Ravelympics, but the United States Olympic Committee decided that we should cease and desist using anything that had "lympic" in it as they had a copyright on those syllables and that it degraded the work that "real" Olympians put forth.  Of course that irked the entire knitting community who took it upon themselves to enlighten the USOC about a few things.  The USOC gave a non-apology and then asked if we would like to donate knitted items for the US athletes to take to the Olympics.  Unfortunately the USOC failed to recognize that Ravelry is an international community and probably would not be interested, after being insulted, in donating knitted items to the Olympians.  Please note that we love the athletes.  We just aren't very fond of the USOC.  However, I am knitting while watching and am making a beautiful shawl by Heatherly Walker, known affectionately as Yarn Yenta, called Threnody.  It's a Knitty pattern and named after a character in D M Cornish's Monster Blood Tattoo series (which is delightful and a fabulous read for older tweens and teens).  I'm making it from some very lovely Sweet Georgia Yarns Merino and silk blend in a sport weight (the package says DK, but it is much thinner than that but much thicker than fingering). The color is called Oxblood and I'm simply in love with it.  I have two more rows and the bind off and I'll be through knitting it.  I'm hoping to finish that and get it blocked today.  

So, leave me a name suggestion for a room that is used to create things.  There will be lots of sewing, knitting, spinning, and other crafts going on in here.  And if my previous plans for today pan out there will be curtain creating happening this afternoon.