Slam books

Remember Slam Books? In my middle school they were always those marble composition notebooks, always anonymous, relatively benign questions that got passed around and everyone wrote their answers. Reading friends' blogs and some of the question memes they post makes me want to create a slam book of old. Seems like it'd be a fun idea, but then again I'm the sort of person who still thinks old-fashioned girly sleepover parties are great, and I'm kind of in the minority on that. Some interesting recent questions that would be neat to hear answers to --

Name a place that you've never been, yet feel inexplicably homesick for.
If you could have one vice without any negative repercussions, what would it be?
Name something you've never really liked to eat.
If you had to gain 10 lbs. what would you eat to do it?
How would you most enjoy spending $20?

Interesting. Definitely.

Puppy love

Last night we played with a baby boxer puppy who was available for adoption. We called him Fred, and he may be the best temperment puppy I've ever handled. He was boisterous and hopping around playing, living up to the name boxer batting at D's hands. I flipped him on his back and he just lay there, didn't squirm to right himself at all. When I picked him up and held him at arms length he again calmly accepted it. Not like Windy, who hates to even be pushed onto her side. We played with his pudgy cheeks, oh boxers are so adorably meat-headed, you just want to grab their pudge and kiss them. He was really really cute. This isn't him, but gives an idea of their cheeky pudginess and rumply forehead -- look at that chin, oh my goodness (ok I'm talking in baby talk at this point, glad you can't hear it).
Anway, after playing with him at talking a bit about it, we decided to leave -- without Fred. And now I'm so glad we didn't get a puppy. It's so nice to sleep through the night, and trust the dogs off lead, and not walk around every day trying to see what got chewed up when you weren't looking, and carpet cleaning during house breaking, and all that. I've been getting that feeling lately like I'd like another puppy, and I was surprised that when confronted with one I really liked, I easily decided against it right now. Besides, I really don't think Katie would like it.

What more can I say?

Small towns are teh coolz

Living in a small town really has its advantages. This afternoon I was at a birthday party for a friend, and after listening to her grandkids perform a breathtaking strings & piano concert (Bach, Chopin, etc) I was looking around to see if I knew anyone. I was thrilled to unexpectedly spot a friend I used to dance with but haven't seen in almost 2 years. We had a great time catching up,
sharing what's changed and our future plans. Also admiring the new tattoos we've each gotten since we last saw each other. It was uplifting to hear her plans and goals for the future, the kind of things that just make you smile with happiness for the other person. All around today has been yet another great B'burg Saturday. The only downsides were that it was too hot (69°) to be wearing jeans out with the dogs, and Katie deciding to douse herself with "eau de poop" cologne on our trek. Ah well, at least they'll be clean after their baths. Yeah, that's a silver lining to justify a half hour bent over the bathtub scrubbing beasts. Guess I better get crackin'

Damn those binges

Remember a while back I posted a line that was something like: Any story that starts with "so I was binge eating pickled beets" can't have a good ending?

Yep, it happened again. Thank goodness they were store bought and not my home-canned ones. The homemade ones are so dark red they remind me of deoxygenated blood. I may have a chance of cleaning this mess up. Not sure how, but I got it on my back too. And in my hair.

Startitis

After reading the Yarn Harlot's recent blog post about her wicked case of startitis, I realized I'm coming down with it too. It's still that early infection feeling, where you know you just don't feel right, but no symptoms have come out yet. Well, I did spend a couple hours completely reorganizing my yarn stash, finally moving all the handspun into easily accessed drawers instead of bins. Boy, I have a lot of handspun yarn. Some is already tagged with a project in mind - the dark brown-grey natural bluefaced leicester is going to be a cardigan or open-faced sweater in some nubbly stitch pattern with perhaps a complex cable running down the front. The laceweight royal blue shetland is destined for a (you guessed it) Shetland lace shawl. Ever since I started knitting I've wanted to make one. I also really want to make a faerose shawl, but don't have enough handspun in one type for that too. Of course that's not saying I don't have enough wool I could spin up, but startitis won't wait for that kind of thing. I'm almost freaking out excited at the thought of starting some of these big projects after so many socks and hats. Of course, I have to finish the pair of x-mas gift socks I'm knitting right now. And I do need to find another travel knitting project for my next business trip. I always do socks or a scarf since I can tuck it in my bag and knit during the workday too. Size-wise the shetland shawl is tempting to bring, but even a simple lace pattern can be dangerous knit in a dark color in ever-changing situations. Maybe I could bring along a sleeve for the sweater, that's kind of like a sock, right?

I was at the Farmer's Market this morning buying heirloom apples to can Apple Smash this afternoon - an ultra chunky form of applesauce more akin to apple pie filling. There was a cold misty precipitation (I can't really call it rain), and I was snuggly happy wrapped in my handspun wool shawl. I love the water-repellent nature of wool and its ability to trap body heat yet still breathe. Well, I better get to peeling apples if I want to get this canning started.

Autumn in the air

I love the fall, it's my favorite season by far. Right now we're at the height of it here in the mountains. Blazing color on the trees, enough fallen leaves to shuffle through. What is it about walking through dead leaves that makes *everyone* shuffle and kick their feet? I remember in college the leaves would pile up half a foot or more on the walkway edges, and nearly everyone veered to the edge so they were walking through the leaves. I'd like to be somewhere that had a proportionally big enough pile of leaves to jump in like we did as kids. They just cut the grass outside, and the sweet smell of freshly cut grass is layering delightfully with the more earthy smell of dry leaves. I'm going back out before the smell fades.