As a kid, my dad was always worried about appearances. He always sat in the back row of church, a theatre, a meeting, anything. When I asked him why, he told me he didn’t want anyone sitting behind him in case he had a dirty neck. Ok. When we’d go to a hotel, we always had to make the bed and completely clean the bathroom, folding the towels neatly and hanging the washrags up to dry, as if someone else were going to use them! My Mother would explain to him that it wasn’t necessary, as they would change the beds and put in fresh towels and washrags. He thought that was ridicules because we had only slept on them once! No matter, the work was to be done. I’m sure that if we stayed more than a day or two, we would have had to rent a vacuum and wash a few walls, just so the maid wouldn’t think ill of us! In a restaurant, we had to wad up our napkins and straw papers and cracker wrappers and stuff them into our glasses and put our silver and whatever else neatly on our plates and scrape whatever crumbs or debris onto our hands and into the aforementioned plate!
At North Woods Inn, for any of you who have been, know that when the waiter greets you, he throws peanuts on the table. I love that! It right away makes the whole event kind of casual and like home. Not that we throw things on the table at home, but, well, you know what I mean….Anyway, as you walk into North Woods Inn, there is sawdust on the floor. As a kid, I always thought it was ground up peanut shells, because as you know, you are suppose to throw the peanut shells on the floor. There is even a sign that tells you to do this. Right there in plain sight! For all to see. Oh no, not us! How would that look?! We had to pile our shells in a neat little pile. I would point out the sign on every wall around us, but, alas, ours were in a neat little pile next to our Root Beer mug. Each time the waiter would come, he would shove them onto the floor. I’m sure he was thinking, what a bunch of Rubes! But when we’d leave, our last pile of shells, our paper-wadded glass and our silver would be all neatly sitting ready for inspection!
Maybe that’s why I’m such a slob. Tho I don’t throw peanut shells on my floor at home, there are a few other things on the floor, that I seem to just toss like those peanut shells at North Woods Inn. Hummmmm,….. Dr. Phil?
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Men and their Trucks
Men think of their trucks as tools. And they use them as such. Steve had the day off, so he decided to take out an annoying palm fron-y thing in the front circle. We both hate it, and it just is out of place in our ‘woodsy’ landscaping. He tried to eliminate it once before by cutting it way back. Now, we gardeners know that that was just pruning. He didn’t and was quite surprised to find it grew back even stronger than before. He thought it was some kind of miracle. I don’t like to shake his faith in God, so I just let him believe it was, indeed, a miracle. Now two years later, that miracle has caused a sight issue in the driveway. Meaning, I can’t see to get out of my own driveway. So, this bright sunny Sunday was the day to destroy the thing, miracle or not! ‘One good pull with the Ford F150 and that puppy will be outta there!’ Hummmm…me thought! One good pull, he thinks…
As he got into the truck, I could just picture my Dad doing the same thing. In fact, I thought my Dad was the only man who used his vehicle for everything. You see, my dad was a kind of ‘I do whatever I want, when I want, don’t follow the rules, make them up as I go, inventive’ kind of guy. His way was better, and what was the argument? And, he was usually right, darn it! He was, in truth, the only person on the planet who had a cast iron vice mounted on the tailgate of his utility van. He also had one of those change things you push the lever and coins come out the bottom, screwed to the dashboard. You know, the kind that has a slot for pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters? When I asked him about this, he stated as if only his genius could figure it out, ‘In case I need change for a pop or something’. OH…He also decided it a good idea to have paper towels at the ready, so he installed a paper towel holder. He only snag came when he inadvertently screwed it into the gas tank. But it was a good idea because you never know when you might spill that pop you just bought with your change from the change dispenser!
As Steve put the chain on the back of the F 150, my mind went back to the day my Dad drove up to my house on W. Lime to take out a tree trunk that had been apparently bugging him for some time. He attached a chain to the tree trunk and back to the vice on the back of his Van. In one good pull, it came out and he just drove off with the vegetation trailing behind him as he rounded the corner to W. Lemon and up the very same driveway Steve is now attempting the same thing. It was this very same van that Steve inherited that he had the brilliant idea it would move the 14 Foot Lumacraft Boat full of dirt. (I was using it as a planter, another story, another time!) All I needed was for it to be lifted up about 4 inches on one side and I would slip a rock under it to level it out. He attached some clamp kind of thing to the boat and the other end to the vice on the van. No go. Not even a breath of air under the offending side....Do you know how heavy a boatload full of dirt is? Well, it will just remain a little lopsided!
So the truck is ready for ‘one good pull’. I sat on the porch in my rocker and just watched my he-man at work! I love to watch him do stuff! I guess I should preface this by mentioning that it’s Sunday and the Mormon Church is full as is the street with big, ol Mormon family cars. Right next to the palm fron-y thing. As they exited the church, a few at a time, they looked a little worried about their big, ol family cars in the path of sure destruction. Steve just diligently went about his task at hand. Well, I got board, so I came in and sat at my computer to write this story. I’d love to tell you the ending, but he’s still out there pullin’!
...An hour later he came in dirt from head to toe, sweat dripping from his brow, proud look of manliness and stated, “That puppy is outta there!”
Men and their trucks…just another tool!
As he got into the truck, I could just picture my Dad doing the same thing. In fact, I thought my Dad was the only man who used his vehicle for everything. You see, my dad was a kind of ‘I do whatever I want, when I want, don’t follow the rules, make them up as I go, inventive’ kind of guy. His way was better, and what was the argument? And, he was usually right, darn it! He was, in truth, the only person on the planet who had a cast iron vice mounted on the tailgate of his utility van. He also had one of those change things you push the lever and coins come out the bottom, screwed to the dashboard. You know, the kind that has a slot for pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters? When I asked him about this, he stated as if only his genius could figure it out, ‘In case I need change for a pop or something’. OH…He also decided it a good idea to have paper towels at the ready, so he installed a paper towel holder. He only snag came when he inadvertently screwed it into the gas tank. But it was a good idea because you never know when you might spill that pop you just bought with your change from the change dispenser!
As Steve put the chain on the back of the F 150, my mind went back to the day my Dad drove up to my house on W. Lime to take out a tree trunk that had been apparently bugging him for some time. He attached a chain to the tree trunk and back to the vice on the back of his Van. In one good pull, it came out and he just drove off with the vegetation trailing behind him as he rounded the corner to W. Lemon and up the very same driveway Steve is now attempting the same thing. It was this very same van that Steve inherited that he had the brilliant idea it would move the 14 Foot Lumacraft Boat full of dirt. (I was using it as a planter, another story, another time!) All I needed was for it to be lifted up about 4 inches on one side and I would slip a rock under it to level it out. He attached some clamp kind of thing to the boat and the other end to the vice on the van. No go. Not even a breath of air under the offending side....Do you know how heavy a boatload full of dirt is? Well, it will just remain a little lopsided!
So the truck is ready for ‘one good pull’. I sat on the porch in my rocker and just watched my he-man at work! I love to watch him do stuff! I guess I should preface this by mentioning that it’s Sunday and the Mormon Church is full as is the street with big, ol Mormon family cars. Right next to the palm fron-y thing. As they exited the church, a few at a time, they looked a little worried about their big, ol family cars in the path of sure destruction. Steve just diligently went about his task at hand. Well, I got board, so I came in and sat at my computer to write this story. I’d love to tell you the ending, but he’s still out there pullin’!
...An hour later he came in dirt from head to toe, sweat dripping from his brow, proud look of manliness and stated, “That puppy is outta there!”
Men and their trucks…just another tool!
Sunday, October 14, 2007
The Final Season
For what it’s worth...a movie review
My scale: 1 through 10; 1 being Istar and 10 being Gone With The Wind
OK, I’m a sucker for a baseball movie, I’ll admit it. I’m always hoping for another Field of Dreams or For the Love Of The Game. Well, this is neither, but I still liked it.
Norway, Iowa is a baseball town. After 19 Championships, Norway High is being merged or rather swallowed up, by a bigger school for ‘the good of the town’. Coach Jim Van Scoyoc, played by Powers Booth, has taken them to the last 12 titles but is let go before the final season. In comes newcomer, Kent Stack, played predictably perfect by Sean Astin (whom I’m also a sucker for). He, of course, is met with the usual obstacles of this kind of feel good film.
Tom Arnold, who I think is under rated and under used as an actor, is a former player for coach Van Scoyoc and the Norway Tigers. He brings his rebellious son, Mitch, portrayed by Michael Anganano, to live with his grandparents for a little small town comeuppance! The grandparents were perfectly cast, James Gammon and Angela Paton. Wouldn’t you know the boy is a gifted baseball player. Who whoulda thought?!
The merge doesn’t set well with the team or the town though Marshall Bell as the heavy Harvey Makepeach is determined not to be swayed.
As you can guess, there are ups and downs to the final season, but they do, in fact win the last game with our little Mitch making the winning play....
I went into this film wanting so to love it. Well, I didn’t love it. But I did love many aspects of it. There were characters I thought were spot on perfect small townies; the janitor/bus driver, the town priest, even the little girl who sings the National Anthem. The look, the feel, the innocence of Any Small Town USA was great. The people of Norway were just as determined to keep the high school open and the team together as the antagonist was to see it be gone. I would have loved to see more character development with the members of the team. You really didn’t know any of them well enough to root for them. The romance between Astin’s Coach Stock and School Board Member, Polly Hudsen (Rachel Leigh Cook) , was very believable. Just enough to make you think those two crazy kids will last forever in Norway, Iowa.
Should you see this film? Sure, why not. It’s a Sunday afternoon, feel good, root for the underdogs (well, except they really weren’t underdogs...), and share popcorn with the one who brung ya kind of movie. In the immortal word of the great Steve Johnson, ‘it sure wasn’t no Rudy!’ Well, no, Steve, it wasn’t Rudy...but then, what is....
I give this film a generous 6.7...I gave Rudy a 9.999. I gave it the extra .7 because I recognized Sean Astin’s brother Mackenzie as his assistant coach. Way to keep the fam alive, Sean! It would have been great to see mom Patty Duke as an extra in the stands, but I guess that would have been a little to much hokum, even for this film...but I did like it.....I am a sucker for a baseball movie.....if you see it, let me know what you think.....
My scale: 1 through 10; 1 being Istar and 10 being Gone With The Wind
OK, I’m a sucker for a baseball movie, I’ll admit it. I’m always hoping for another Field of Dreams or For the Love Of The Game. Well, this is neither, but I still liked it.
Norway, Iowa is a baseball town. After 19 Championships, Norway High is being merged or rather swallowed up, by a bigger school for ‘the good of the town’. Coach Jim Van Scoyoc, played by Powers Booth, has taken them to the last 12 titles but is let go before the final season. In comes newcomer, Kent Stack, played predictably perfect by Sean Astin (whom I’m also a sucker for). He, of course, is met with the usual obstacles of this kind of feel good film.
Tom Arnold, who I think is under rated and under used as an actor, is a former player for coach Van Scoyoc and the Norway Tigers. He brings his rebellious son, Mitch, portrayed by Michael Anganano, to live with his grandparents for a little small town comeuppance! The grandparents were perfectly cast, James Gammon and Angela Paton. Wouldn’t you know the boy is a gifted baseball player. Who whoulda thought?!
The merge doesn’t set well with the team or the town though Marshall Bell as the heavy Harvey Makepeach is determined not to be swayed.
As you can guess, there are ups and downs to the final season, but they do, in fact win the last game with our little Mitch making the winning play....
I went into this film wanting so to love it. Well, I didn’t love it. But I did love many aspects of it. There were characters I thought were spot on perfect small townies; the janitor/bus driver, the town priest, even the little girl who sings the National Anthem. The look, the feel, the innocence of Any Small Town USA was great. The people of Norway were just as determined to keep the high school open and the team together as the antagonist was to see it be gone. I would have loved to see more character development with the members of the team. You really didn’t know any of them well enough to root for them. The romance between Astin’s Coach Stock and School Board Member, Polly Hudsen (Rachel Leigh Cook) , was very believable. Just enough to make you think those two crazy kids will last forever in Norway, Iowa.
Should you see this film? Sure, why not. It’s a Sunday afternoon, feel good, root for the underdogs (well, except they really weren’t underdogs...), and share popcorn with the one who brung ya kind of movie. In the immortal word of the great Steve Johnson, ‘it sure wasn’t no Rudy!’ Well, no, Steve, it wasn’t Rudy...but then, what is....
I give this film a generous 6.7...I gave Rudy a 9.999. I gave it the extra .7 because I recognized Sean Astin’s brother Mackenzie as his assistant coach. Way to keep the fam alive, Sean! It would have been great to see mom Patty Duke as an extra in the stands, but I guess that would have been a little to much hokum, even for this film...but I did like it.....I am a sucker for a baseball movie.....if you see it, let me know what you think.....
Friday, October 5, 2007
Daddy's Candy Jar
My mother was pretty strict when it came to our eating habits. We always had meat, potatoes, vegetable and salad. Never dessert unless there was company. Tho, we always had 2 or 3 half gallons of ice cream in the freezer. Black Walnut was Daddy’s favorite, but mine was Fudge Ripple! 59 cents on sale. It was always Jerseymaid in the blue stripped container and we got 3 small scoops. That was another thing about my mother, everything was always served the same. 3 scoops of ice cream, 2 strips of bacon and 2 eggs, 1 pork chop, 6 oz. of orange juice for breakfast. On Monday, Wednesday and Friday we had bacon and eggs for breakfast. The other days, we had cereal. Puffed Wheat, Shredded Wheat or Post Tosties. I just figured there was a book somewhere that had the rules for the amount of food you served your family. When I got married my husband wanted more bacon and I was floored! His mom apparently didn’t read the book! Anyway, I digress………I don’t remember going to the frige or cupboard for snacks. We had ’meals’. Breakfast, lunch and dinner. If ever we did have a snack, it was fruit. Well, what kid wants an apple at 2 in the afternoon! (however, we did have a Satsuma Tangerine tree I visited regularly.) Around 8:00 in the evening, Daddy would say, ‘Ma, how about some ice cream?’. We’d all act like it was an idea we had never thought of! And out would come our 3 scoops. The ice cream was the only treat we could count on. But……in the pantry…way up high on the shelf...second from the top, were 2 glass jars. In them was Daddy’s candy. In the one on the right were gumdrops. The big ones. Red, yellow, orange, green, purple and the yucky black ones. But on the right, Brach’s Chocolate Stars!!!! AAAhhhhhh! Whenever Daddy came in from his shop in the back yard, you hoped he would go the pantry! You see, you couldn’t ask for the candy, you had to wait to see if he offered you one. Yes, one. One or the other, never both. He always did offer, but you always wondered if this time he might forget. He also kept Tootsie Rolls somewhere. Because his Grandfather always had candy in his pockets for his grandkids at church, my Dad decided to carry on the tradition. They would rush up to their Papa after church and just stand, waiting for him to offer them a treat. He would always pretend to not know why they were being just a little too attentive. ‘Oh!’ He would say. ‘I think I might have some candy in my pocket this morning!’ And out would come 2 Tootsie Rolls each! The grandchildren, and a few others who had caught on to the ritual, would run off as if they had gotten gold from a mine!
Now that I look back on it, geesh! It was kind of like torture! Maybe even Child Abuse! I gotta go journal………………….
Now that I look back on it, geesh! It was kind of like torture! Maybe even Child Abuse! I gotta go journal………………….
Beautiful Nathan
Beautiful Nathan
As you know Nathan’s wife, Betty Jo, passed away on Wednesday. My first instinct was to go to Santa Monica and gather him up and bring him home. Steve suggested we wait until we heard from him so we could set up a meeting place, as we never really know where Nathan is living. So he finally called on Friday afternoon and we decided on The Broadway Bar and Grill as our spot. We drove down 5th and turned onto Broadway and just before 3rd St. Steve would drop me off and he would go park. It was Friday night and the place was already buzzin’. So just before we reached the corner, I was about to open my door and Steve stopped me, cautioning to wait as one of the many homeless was walking right by my door. I looked up at this disheveled soul walking past my window. I caught my breath at the familiarity of the man and his dusty belongings. It was my son. My mind raced to find a safe place……………..
We had left not quite 2 ½ year old Ryan at home with Gramma as we raced to the hospital for the second time in 24 hours. I feared I’d waited a bit too long this time and the 15 miles to the hospital seemed endless and much bumpier than the time before! Our second baby was now 8 days late, and it was the latter part of a very hot June in 1977. I just wanted it out of there and into my arms where it belonged! Well we did make it on time, barely. I had desperately wanted a girl this time, but don’t remember one whisper of disappointment when Nathan Jon-Lee Van de Wetering was cradled in my arms for the first time! He was undoubtedly the most beautiful baby I’d ever seen! He was 8lbs 14oz and 20 ½ inches and was perfect! Not like his brother Ryan who was born with a lop-sided cone head and scratches and his face from his very own fingernails with eyes puffy and all but closed. No, Nathan was perfectectly beautiful. All of the nurses came to see my treasure.
He was the kind of beautiful child that people stopped to admire, commenting on his bright blue eyes or curly brown hair. When he was about 6 years old, I would find people staring at him and my pride told me they too, thought he was beautiful even without a word spoken. He had a stocky little body and a curious gate when he walked. He developed quite a vocabulary and had an unusually deep voice for a child as he described things in his very own way. I was putting groceries away one day and there was a line of cans waiting for a place in the cupboard. He stared at them for a moment and said with joy, ‘look, Mama, it’s a parade!’ He could entertain himself so well I ’d get complacent and forget he was in the room at times. At one point I looked over at him at 2 year old, and he had taken all of the labels off the fruit and vegetable cans! But not just the labels, the glue as well! For weeks I’d open a can of green beans and it would be peaches!
At four years old, he was hit by a car as he and several children were playing in the yard. As I heard the car screech and knew something dreadful had happened, I knew instinctively it was Nathan. He had run into the street to retrieve a Frisbee and been struck by a drunk driver. He had been thrown 12 feet into the air and was completely under the car with his little head resting just in front of the rear tire. When I got to him, he was not breathing nor did he have a heart beat. I immediately prayed over him with all of the fervor and memory of everything I had learned over the 30 years knowing God was the answer to all around me. He began to breath with a rasp and his little heart raced. I yelled out numbers to call and took control of the stunned faces around me. The paramedics arrived and whisked us off the Santa Theresita Hospital. Nathan and I spent a week there and both of us recovered with the only scars being on my beautiful boy.
He baffled his teachers with his artistic approach to test takings! Instead of answering the question and filling in the appropriate dot, he made designs with the dots. Not an accurate measure of one’s ability on any level! He loved to take a bath and would go to bed when he was tired whether it was bedtime or not. If he needed to be scolded he would cry as if you has broken his heart, and I would cry too. He named all of his stuffed animals of which there we many. He seemed like he was always contemplating something more important than any one of us could possibly understand.
This was the boy standing outside of my car window. Broken and in shock from his loss. We did gather him up and bring him home and are dealing with this one day at a time. He is homeless, but must be in Santa Monica for court ordered classes. He seems not to be able to grasp what life is suppose to be about. It is hard for me to imagine him being able to pick himself up and lead life in a normal way, whatever that may be for him. Somewhere along the way, my beautiful little boy got lost and can’t find a way back. I pray for him daily and only survive this by knowing God has His hand out waiting for Nathan to grab on……………
As you know Nathan’s wife, Betty Jo, passed away on Wednesday. My first instinct was to go to Santa Monica and gather him up and bring him home. Steve suggested we wait until we heard from him so we could set up a meeting place, as we never really know where Nathan is living. So he finally called on Friday afternoon and we decided on The Broadway Bar and Grill as our spot. We drove down 5th and turned onto Broadway and just before 3rd St. Steve would drop me off and he would go park. It was Friday night and the place was already buzzin’. So just before we reached the corner, I was about to open my door and Steve stopped me, cautioning to wait as one of the many homeless was walking right by my door. I looked up at this disheveled soul walking past my window. I caught my breath at the familiarity of the man and his dusty belongings. It was my son. My mind raced to find a safe place……………..
We had left not quite 2 ½ year old Ryan at home with Gramma as we raced to the hospital for the second time in 24 hours. I feared I’d waited a bit too long this time and the 15 miles to the hospital seemed endless and much bumpier than the time before! Our second baby was now 8 days late, and it was the latter part of a very hot June in 1977. I just wanted it out of there and into my arms where it belonged! Well we did make it on time, barely. I had desperately wanted a girl this time, but don’t remember one whisper of disappointment when Nathan Jon-Lee Van de Wetering was cradled in my arms for the first time! He was undoubtedly the most beautiful baby I’d ever seen! He was 8lbs 14oz and 20 ½ inches and was perfect! Not like his brother Ryan who was born with a lop-sided cone head and scratches and his face from his very own fingernails with eyes puffy and all but closed. No, Nathan was perfectectly beautiful. All of the nurses came to see my treasure.
He was the kind of beautiful child that people stopped to admire, commenting on his bright blue eyes or curly brown hair. When he was about 6 years old, I would find people staring at him and my pride told me they too, thought he was beautiful even without a word spoken. He had a stocky little body and a curious gate when he walked. He developed quite a vocabulary and had an unusually deep voice for a child as he described things in his very own way. I was putting groceries away one day and there was a line of cans waiting for a place in the cupboard. He stared at them for a moment and said with joy, ‘look, Mama, it’s a parade!’ He could entertain himself so well I ’d get complacent and forget he was in the room at times. At one point I looked over at him at 2 year old, and he had taken all of the labels off the fruit and vegetable cans! But not just the labels, the glue as well! For weeks I’d open a can of green beans and it would be peaches!
At four years old, he was hit by a car as he and several children were playing in the yard. As I heard the car screech and knew something dreadful had happened, I knew instinctively it was Nathan. He had run into the street to retrieve a Frisbee and been struck by a drunk driver. He had been thrown 12 feet into the air and was completely under the car with his little head resting just in front of the rear tire. When I got to him, he was not breathing nor did he have a heart beat. I immediately prayed over him with all of the fervor and memory of everything I had learned over the 30 years knowing God was the answer to all around me. He began to breath with a rasp and his little heart raced. I yelled out numbers to call and took control of the stunned faces around me. The paramedics arrived and whisked us off the Santa Theresita Hospital. Nathan and I spent a week there and both of us recovered with the only scars being on my beautiful boy.
He baffled his teachers with his artistic approach to test takings! Instead of answering the question and filling in the appropriate dot, he made designs with the dots. Not an accurate measure of one’s ability on any level! He loved to take a bath and would go to bed when he was tired whether it was bedtime or not. If he needed to be scolded he would cry as if you has broken his heart, and I would cry too. He named all of his stuffed animals of which there we many. He seemed like he was always contemplating something more important than any one of us could possibly understand.
This was the boy standing outside of my car window. Broken and in shock from his loss. We did gather him up and bring him home and are dealing with this one day at a time. He is homeless, but must be in Santa Monica for court ordered classes. He seems not to be able to grasp what life is suppose to be about. It is hard for me to imagine him being able to pick himself up and lead life in a normal way, whatever that may be for him. Somewhere along the way, my beautiful little boy got lost and can’t find a way back. I pray for him daily and only survive this by knowing God has His hand out waiting for Nathan to grab on……………
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
Knitting
After one of the best Thanksgivings we’ve had in a long time, the day after was upon us. Dishes done (well almost) and the kids off and Steve gone to Tahoe with his mom, my sister, Dienna, and I got up to drink in the day. So many options, such possibilities! So many places we could go. So many stores open, so many people we could visit. It was a beautiful day, we could go for a walk. We could go for a bike ride. We could….Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever. Here’s what we did…
We got up about 8:00, not bad. Had our coffee and a bite or two. Watched a little of the morning news. Then, we each picked up our knitting and began to create wonderful things! We never got out of our pajamas or combed out hair or even washed out faces. We were barefoot and comfortable in front of the TV all day. My sister at one point realized she had eaten 3 meals and it was only 1:00 in the afternoon. Oh, those leftovers.
Now as I was knitting for the 7th hour in the day and on my 3rd scarf, I began to examine this knitting thing. What is it about knitting that is so fascinating? My sister is a journeyman when it comes to knitting. She follows complicated pattern, and uses interesting yarns. I, on the other hand, am an apprentice, knowing only how to knit and pearl. That’s it. On my first scarf, half way through I realized I hadn’t a clue how to take my scarf off of the needles. I had to suck up my overly creative self and take my almost completed project into the knit shop and ask for help. I hate when I have to do that! But it was worth it. I guess…
Anyway, to have to describe knitting to someone who doesn’t know a thing about it is odd, at best. It sounds monotonous. At best. In my mind as I knit, I say the following phrase; in, over, tuck, push. In, over, tuck, push. In, over, tuck, push. In, over, tuck, push. In, over, tuck, push. In, over, tuck, push. In, over, tuck, push. In, over, tuck, push. In, over, tuck, push. Over and over and over and over and over and over and over again! How boring does that sound?! And yet, it is addicting. In, over, tuck, push! In, over, tuck, push.! In, over, tuck, push! Fascinating! For those knitters out there, you know exactly what I mean! Don’t you?! Right now, those of you who haven’t knit in years are trying to remember where your needles are. You’re getting out the old pattern magazines, realizing that they are out of style and you MUST get some new ones. You’re wondering where the neatest yarn shop is. Don’t worry; you’ll always remember how to knit. In, over, tuck, push! In, over, tuck, push! In, over, tuck, push!
That’s what my sister and I did all day long, the day after Thanksgiving. And loved every minute of it. She finished a scarf with complicated stitches and measured every 5 minutes hoping it was finally long enough! ‘Bout 2:30 it was long enough. Then she got out the sweater she’s been working on for 3 years. Don’t think I’ll ever be up to that complicated pattern! I’m just sticking to my scarves today! Maybe tomorrow I’ll try something else. Like a potholder or something.
My scarves have been a hit. I sold somewhere around 40 of them and gave the rest as gifts. Kept some and tucked the not so great ones in the drawer. I’ll figure something to do with them someday. Pot holders, possibly?
I’m working on a sweater. My first ‘real’ project. I don’t know how to follow a pattern, but I think I can figure it out. It’s pink. And soft. ¾ sleeves. Off the shoulder. It should be done around July. I’ll wear it anyway.
On a recent trip to Boise, my daughter-in-law asked me to teach her to knit. Oh! It’s easy! Just In, over, tuck, push! In, over, tuck, push! In, over, tuck, push! In, over, tuck, push! In, over,……..
Fascinating!
We got up about 8:00, not bad. Had our coffee and a bite or two. Watched a little of the morning news. Then, we each picked up our knitting and began to create wonderful things! We never got out of our pajamas or combed out hair or even washed out faces. We were barefoot and comfortable in front of the TV all day. My sister at one point realized she had eaten 3 meals and it was only 1:00 in the afternoon. Oh, those leftovers.
Now as I was knitting for the 7th hour in the day and on my 3rd scarf, I began to examine this knitting thing. What is it about knitting that is so fascinating? My sister is a journeyman when it comes to knitting. She follows complicated pattern, and uses interesting yarns. I, on the other hand, am an apprentice, knowing only how to knit and pearl. That’s it. On my first scarf, half way through I realized I hadn’t a clue how to take my scarf off of the needles. I had to suck up my overly creative self and take my almost completed project into the knit shop and ask for help. I hate when I have to do that! But it was worth it. I guess…
Anyway, to have to describe knitting to someone who doesn’t know a thing about it is odd, at best. It sounds monotonous. At best. In my mind as I knit, I say the following phrase; in, over, tuck, push. In, over, tuck, push. In, over, tuck, push. In, over, tuck, push. In, over, tuck, push. In, over, tuck, push. In, over, tuck, push. In, over, tuck, push. In, over, tuck, push. Over and over and over and over and over and over and over again! How boring does that sound?! And yet, it is addicting. In, over, tuck, push! In, over, tuck, push.! In, over, tuck, push! Fascinating! For those knitters out there, you know exactly what I mean! Don’t you?! Right now, those of you who haven’t knit in years are trying to remember where your needles are. You’re getting out the old pattern magazines, realizing that they are out of style and you MUST get some new ones. You’re wondering where the neatest yarn shop is. Don’t worry; you’ll always remember how to knit. In, over, tuck, push! In, over, tuck, push! In, over, tuck, push!
That’s what my sister and I did all day long, the day after Thanksgiving. And loved every minute of it. She finished a scarf with complicated stitches and measured every 5 minutes hoping it was finally long enough! ‘Bout 2:30 it was long enough. Then she got out the sweater she’s been working on for 3 years. Don’t think I’ll ever be up to that complicated pattern! I’m just sticking to my scarves today! Maybe tomorrow I’ll try something else. Like a potholder or something.
My scarves have been a hit. I sold somewhere around 40 of them and gave the rest as gifts. Kept some and tucked the not so great ones in the drawer. I’ll figure something to do with them someday. Pot holders, possibly?
I’m working on a sweater. My first ‘real’ project. I don’t know how to follow a pattern, but I think I can figure it out. It’s pink. And soft. ¾ sleeves. Off the shoulder. It should be done around July. I’ll wear it anyway.
On a recent trip to Boise, my daughter-in-law asked me to teach her to knit. Oh! It’s easy! Just In, over, tuck, push! In, over, tuck, push! In, over, tuck, push! In, over, tuck, push! In, over,……..
Fascinating!
That Very First Day
As I looked in the mirror, I thought my white, flowing dress and jacket hid the extra 100 pounds or so I was always trying to pretend no one notices. I gathered my white purse with the pink roses and looked at the door and knew there was no backing out of the luncheon I so wanted to avoid. I had waited until it was too late to cancel. I had been taught by my mother, that if you couldn’t attend a function you must RSVP as soon as possible as to be courteous to your hostess. I had waited too long. I had to go. How on earth would I make it through? What excuse was going to be the right one to get me out of joining this group so many were pushing me into. I’m perfectly fine at home doing nothing. I like it there. That’s what depression tells you. Just stay right where you are. It may be dark, but you’re there and it’s what you know. The unknown has to be worse. It has to be…
Well, I did get into the car and drive myself to the League. I can’t even imagine driving here 3 or 4 times a week. That’s too much to ask. That would mean I would have to get up every morning and get dressed. Shoes and everything. There are days I don’t even know where my shoes are! The thought of getting dressed and putting makeup on and doing something coherent with my hair everyday, just seemed unthinkable. And, I would have to pretend everything was just fine and dandy with me, and that life was grand. I don’t know if I can do that convincingly for days at a time. I may implode!
I read my directions to the League and found it. Even though I had been to the theatre a few times before, this was the first time driving myself. It always surprises me when directions pan out. I was so hoping this time they wouldn’t. It would be my first excuse, I got lost. But, no, I found it…
I hate the parking here…. and it’s a creepy neighborhood…Hummm, but the League building is nice. Kind of like a jewel among rocks…whatever….
I made my way into the lobby and felt lost, as I really didn’t have a clue where I was suppose to go. Arlen said I’d find it when I got there. She’s always so optimistic. I hate that…. I wonder if she always knows where her shoes are….whatever…
I kind of recognized that little lady over there. I think her name is Dorretta something. She seems nice…I guess that’s where I’m suppose to be…I hope so…I don’t want to look as lost as I feel…so I’m goin’ in. Deep breath, smile, confident walk. I think that’s all I need…God, I want to go home. Come on brain, think…excuse…excuse… SOMETHING!!!! Nothin’…sigh…. come on, breathe, smile, confident walk, you can do it. You’ve perfected it. That’s it!
I think Doretta greeted me and told me something important. I think. I just wanted to sit down before my wobbly legs gave way and I was found out. I sat. Phew…that part is over…
Others joined us and they all seemed to fit right in. Be perky, Jannie, it’s what they expect. Perky…breathe and smile…breathe and smile. Why does everyone else know what to do? I though they were new, too. Whatever…the waiter asks me if I’d like a glass of wine. Gosh, no! It will make me cry for sure! Diet Coke, please. Gosh, does an elegant place like this have Diet Coke. Please let someone else order Diet Coke! Thank you, whatever your name is in the blue suit…
The meeting began and people spoke. I haven’t a clue what they said. I was trying to do that breathe, smile thing and it took all of my energy. I was handed a packed of stuff I’m sure I’ll need for something or other, but I’m sure didn’t want it. I didn’t know there was going to be stuff. I’ll just put it with the stuff I have at home. Where it’s safe…
I think the meeting is about over, because I was given coffee. I don’t really drink coffee, but everyone else does, so I guess I’d better. Coffee is always a good sign that it’s almost over and they want you to go home…
I don’t know when, but at one point this beautiful, elegant lady sat down beside me. She was like Grace Kelly, the later years. Kind of regal, yet approachable somehow. She looked right at me and said, ‘I’m so glad you’re joining us, you’re going to be fabulous!’. I couldn’t help but be fascinated by her gentleness of spirit. She sort of made me feel important. She must know I’m not. She must see that I’m scared out of my wits and just want my blankie and Dr. Phil! But somehow, she seemed to see beyond the darkness that covered every space I filled. She told me she liked my purse. She liked my purse! My homemade, $2 purse. She liked my purse. Wow….And I liked her. She is going to be safe, I think. And she’s so pretty. And she likes my purse….
That was the first time I met Ottilie. She was the beginning of the long journey out of the darkness. I didn’t fool her, by the way. She knew. And that gentle spirit she shared with all who knew her, guided me just a step at a time. Pretty soon, I didn’t have to remind myself to breath. Just to smile. Then after awhile, I would smile because I wanted to.
Thank you, Ottilie.
I will love you and miss you everyday of my life…
Well, I did get into the car and drive myself to the League. I can’t even imagine driving here 3 or 4 times a week. That’s too much to ask. That would mean I would have to get up every morning and get dressed. Shoes and everything. There are days I don’t even know where my shoes are! The thought of getting dressed and putting makeup on and doing something coherent with my hair everyday, just seemed unthinkable. And, I would have to pretend everything was just fine and dandy with me, and that life was grand. I don’t know if I can do that convincingly for days at a time. I may implode!
I read my directions to the League and found it. Even though I had been to the theatre a few times before, this was the first time driving myself. It always surprises me when directions pan out. I was so hoping this time they wouldn’t. It would be my first excuse, I got lost. But, no, I found it…
I hate the parking here…. and it’s a creepy neighborhood…Hummm, but the League building is nice. Kind of like a jewel among rocks…whatever….
I made my way into the lobby and felt lost, as I really didn’t have a clue where I was suppose to go. Arlen said I’d find it when I got there. She’s always so optimistic. I hate that…. I wonder if she always knows where her shoes are….whatever…
I kind of recognized that little lady over there. I think her name is Dorretta something. She seems nice…I guess that’s where I’m suppose to be…I hope so…I don’t want to look as lost as I feel…so I’m goin’ in. Deep breath, smile, confident walk. I think that’s all I need…God, I want to go home. Come on brain, think…excuse…excuse… SOMETHING!!!! Nothin’…sigh…. come on, breathe, smile, confident walk, you can do it. You’ve perfected it. That’s it!
I think Doretta greeted me and told me something important. I think. I just wanted to sit down before my wobbly legs gave way and I was found out. I sat. Phew…that part is over…
Others joined us and they all seemed to fit right in. Be perky, Jannie, it’s what they expect. Perky…breathe and smile…breathe and smile. Why does everyone else know what to do? I though they were new, too. Whatever…the waiter asks me if I’d like a glass of wine. Gosh, no! It will make me cry for sure! Diet Coke, please. Gosh, does an elegant place like this have Diet Coke. Please let someone else order Diet Coke! Thank you, whatever your name is in the blue suit…
The meeting began and people spoke. I haven’t a clue what they said. I was trying to do that breathe, smile thing and it took all of my energy. I was handed a packed of stuff I’m sure I’ll need for something or other, but I’m sure didn’t want it. I didn’t know there was going to be stuff. I’ll just put it with the stuff I have at home. Where it’s safe…
I think the meeting is about over, because I was given coffee. I don’t really drink coffee, but everyone else does, so I guess I’d better. Coffee is always a good sign that it’s almost over and they want you to go home…
I don’t know when, but at one point this beautiful, elegant lady sat down beside me. She was like Grace Kelly, the later years. Kind of regal, yet approachable somehow. She looked right at me and said, ‘I’m so glad you’re joining us, you’re going to be fabulous!’. I couldn’t help but be fascinated by her gentleness of spirit. She sort of made me feel important. She must know I’m not. She must see that I’m scared out of my wits and just want my blankie and Dr. Phil! But somehow, she seemed to see beyond the darkness that covered every space I filled. She told me she liked my purse. She liked my purse! My homemade, $2 purse. She liked my purse. Wow….And I liked her. She is going to be safe, I think. And she’s so pretty. And she likes my purse….
That was the first time I met Ottilie. She was the beginning of the long journey out of the darkness. I didn’t fool her, by the way. She knew. And that gentle spirit she shared with all who knew her, guided me just a step at a time. Pretty soon, I didn’t have to remind myself to breath. Just to smile. Then after awhile, I would smile because I wanted to.
Thank you, Ottilie.
I will love you and miss you everyday of my life…
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