Olive Knitting

2009-11-13T09:11:00.000-08:00

Earle-in-Denver's comment on my captivity (from the last post) got me thinking about the nature of captivity.

This is a dialog that sometimes happens in my head that came up again today in my pondering on captivity:

Some Random Person asks: "Lynn, if you could organize your ideal holiday, what would it look like?"

Lynn responds: "Well, thanks for asking, Some Random Person. That's easy. It's been a dream holiday that I've had in mind for as long as I can remember. It looks like this. I rent a mountain cabin with a wood stove and a beautiful view. I go there with some great food that can be cooked on the wood stove. I'd have books and magazines, and yarn and needles, beads and silver, and paper and glue. I'd pack sketchbooks and pencils and markers and pens, and maybe a little wine. There would be fabric and a sewing machine, and clay and paint. Maybe I would have some movies and books on tape (or CD, as it were). And I would stay put. I would just BE THERE."

Captivity might just be a matter of inapropriate labling of one's time. Or perhaps, just a slight shift in one's perspective.

In my case, Bead Babe has taken me to heaven.

If you see her

don't follow. I ain't leavin'!

PS. If any of you are, like Carrie in the comments, wondering if I'm nuts. Yes, I am. Totally and comletely. Carrie, you probably had some foresight into this early on...on the golf course in high school. I'd appreciate it if you didn't share!!!!

PSS. Bead Babe let me outside today to build a stone wall for her on her land. She thought that moving my WHOLE BODY would be a respite from constant work with my hands. Boy was she right. I'm coming to love The Babe. Anyway...Wayne (aka: "TFC"), don't worry...photos will be coming.

2009-11-10T08:32:00.000-08:00

Sorry about that little break the in the blog action, you see Bead Babe (that would be Wonder Woolman's sinister sister) kidnapped me. Actually, I'm still in captivity so I must be quick before Bead Babe comes back and sees that I'm not making jewelry.

I'd tell you where I am so one of you could come rescue me but I don't know. She nabbed me just after I returned from Venice, blindfolded me, stuck me in a box that felt full of marbles, drove me away. I must be on a mountain top somewhere because during the journey the box I was in tipped over and I spent most of the ride with my feet above my head trying to keep those marbles out of my nose. Duh, stupid me...they weren't marble at all but beads, of course.

Anyway, The Babe (that's what I call her behind her back) has got me set up in this room now that's actually pretty cozy. I have a wood stove for heat, pencils and notepads for sketching and all the jewelry supplies one could imagine. Twice a day a really nice and cute man brings me some food. Oh, that man also brings me a cappuccino in the mornings.

Things could be much worse, actually. But I would kind of like to get home so if you see someone who looks like Wonder Woolman but wearing a ridiculous amount of jewelry (beautiful jewelry, but just too much of it), follow her.

Venice..again

2009-10-31T08:48:00.000-07:00

If you've never been to Venice, put it on your list of things to do. The "must do" list.

I've been there a number of times now and it just doesn't lose its magic. Yes, there are hoards of tourists. Yes, there are trinket shops one after another, piled on top of each other selling all variety of useless clutter. Yes, it is outrageously overpriced. Yes, you get lost the minute you step off the boat. And yes, it's all completely and totally worth the price of admission. The city is magic - pure magic.

So I guess I'm saying that we had a magical few days.

The main purpose of the trip was to buy beads for Maberga Designs. "Work". It just makes me giggle in a guilty pleasure kind of way that "work" is wandering the alleyways of Venice and Murano, meeting artisans who create amazing, little, colorful glass pieces of art and I have to buy them. Crazy.

The train ride from Maberga to Venice is about 7 hours. Train travel is the best. I read. I slept. I knit a sock that was big enough for an elephant so I unraveled it and knit a fingerless mitt. I ate a ham sandwich at 5.30 in the morning. By noon we were getting on a traghetto (water bus) to the island of Murano.

Murano is one of the little islands off the main island of Venice. It's the home of the glass industry that Venice is famous for.

Murano is like a mini Venice with way less tourism. Everyone there is involved in the production or sales of glass art.

Meet Alessandro.

He is my main bead artist. We spent a lot of time with Alessandro. I had a lot of work to do with him.

Here's Alessandro at work.

I wonder if he giggles that he gets to play with these beautiful glass tubes

and fire, making little, colorful pieces of art.

Other postcards from the holiday, um, I mean business trip...

a birthday picnic on a Murano curb

gathering inspiration and sketches in a Murano church

And when the work was done, off to the big island.

San Marco Square...

15 euro glasses of wine and some dancing in the Square...

the gondolas

A little note -- you don't have to pay the price of a gondola ride to experience Venice. We rode the traghetto all the way around the Grand Canal after dinner...awesome and way less expensive. Venice at night is awesome.

It's pretty awesome in the morning, too.

And it's way more awesome without two lively dogs.

PS. All the photos are compliments of my bead buyer guide and in house photographer (aka: David). Aren't they great? I have more if anyone is interested.

PSS. If anyone wants to see the beads I got...stay tuned here, or on my website (www.mabergadesigns.com) or my etsy shop (http://www.etsy.com/shop/mabergadesigns). If you're in the southern Wisconsin area, you can find the finished Maberga Designs products at a great store in Lake Geneva called Abbellimento.

2009-10-27T20:07:00.000-07:00

We're off to Venice!!! Murano to be specific. Bead buying and birthday celebrating (yes, I am still taking about and celebrating my birthday...celebrations that, yes, began 3 months ago with pal Mette and das Needle girls).

I'm thinking that it will be a more relaxing trip than the last one we went on.

a dopo!!!

an old roommate, a new sweater

2009-10-25T07:10:00.000-07:00

Guess what?

Yep. David's home. Home for the winter season. Home with a station wagon full of stuff from his apartment in Tuscany.

Maybe that would explain why I've been knitting like a mad woman on this sweater.

Did you miss that segue? Don't really see the connection between David (and his stuff) being home and my manic need to knit?

That's ok. Your confusion is understandable. Let me explain.

Here are our closets (armadio).

That's it. In the whole house. Three closets in the whole place. We did have a forth, this one

I know, I know...white trash, just leave that old furniture any where in the yard...anyway...

We had that forth one but I really didn't like it. It was cheaply made, rather ugly and when we rearranged my studio I decided it had to go. It had been David's closet.

D: "So where am I supposed to put my stuff if we trash (white trash) this armadio?"

L: "You can have my armadio. Look, it's bigger."

D: "And where are you going to put your stuff?"

L: "I'll use that little one."

In the middle of 95 degree June, when the only clothes that I had were a couple of sheet skirts, a linen dress and my bikini, it seemed like a really good solution.

Now, in the 50 degree days of late October, with anticipation of freezing to come, I'm questioning my decision. No, questioning is not the right word. That would imply that I might undo my decision. This is not possible. Remember that other armadio in the back yard? Yeah, it's not coming back in the house unless it's in pieces the size of our wood stove.

In the past few weeks before David came back, I stole a couple of shelves back from my old armadio, his new one. I needed some place to put my sweaters. There's no room for Swish Bulky, roll neck wooly goodies in my own space.

Perhaps by now in the reading of this post you've forgotten about the connection between David being home and my knitting a sweater. Perhaps now you're wondering why I'm prattling on about closet space. Yeah, that's a reasonable ponder.

I've decided that, given my lack of sweater storage space, I would have to select just a couple of sweaters to wear all winter. Now, let me tell you, this would be a difficult task for anyone. Well, maybe not my brother-in-law Paul whose wardrobe includes 5 sweaters that are exactly the same. For him it would probably be easy to pick two. But he's probably in the minority of the sweater colling ability group. For a knitter...this task is near impossible. Like asking a mother to pick just two of her kids to live with her in the house, the rest being packed in boxes and sent to the shed...ok, bad analogy but you get the point.

SO I've decided to knit a reversible sweater. With one sweater I will get 4! Isn't this ingenious?! If the idea in my head shows itself in reality, this dream creation with be able to be worn forwards, backwards, rightsideup, AND upside down. Wait! That's not just 4 sweaters! that's, um, like, yeah, ok, that's 4 sweaters. Sorry I got a little confusioned with the variations there in my mind.

4 sweaters that only take closet room of 1. I'm a genius.

note: I am of course taking full credit for this idea because I am of course knitting the thing from my head. Truth be told, the idea actually came from these geniuses here, in the book Reversible Knitting.

breezes, salamis, and parents

2009-10-22T08:43:00.000-07:00

Is it already Thursday? Wow. Seems as though rain and cold weather has taken a few days from me.

Does anyone know what this is called in English?

In Italian it's called a "salami". This confused me a little last spring when Eugenio was installing my new doors and suggested that I get one.

The conversation between Eugenio, Augusto, (my construction guy, in case any of you have forgotten) and me went something like this:

E: You will need a lip on this little step outside the door to stop breezes from blowing in under the door.

L: But if we put a lip there how will the door open?

E: What?! The door opens in, not out! If it opened out a passing car would take it off.

L: But what if there's a fire and David and I and Ruffino and Q and Yellar are all trampling each other to try to get out and the door opens in?! That's illegal in the US.

A and E: ???? (blank stares)

L: I'm just kidding. (sometimes my humor is lost in translation)

A: Yeah, anyway...she won't be able to clean the floor properly with that lip.

L: Lips? Cleaning? BREEZES???? I thought I was doing all this work so I wouldn't have breezes.

A: Ah...you WON'T have breezes coming from any of the walls, windows or roof. None.

note -- this is true. That dude built this backroom to last a Roman Empire epic.

another note -- Eugenio and Augusto started having the rest of the conversation about my lips, cleaning and breezes as if I wasn't present...maybe I should stop making stupid jokes.

E: Ah, it's not a problem. She just needs to get out the electric broom.

note -- in my quick thinking I realized he was talking about a vacuum cleaner.

At this point Augusto and I looked at each other and laughed. Augusto has seen my house. He's knows my dogs. He knows how I clean.

A: It's better if she can just sweep. With a lip all the dirt will get stuck at the lip.

E: (who hasn't seen how I clean, argued his point). No. It's much better to clean with the electric broom. It's cleaner. And it's so easy.

At this point I started laughing. I can't be totally sure but I'm pretty sure that neither of these men has ever used a broom, electric or otherwise, inside a house.

L: No lip.

E: No lip? What about the breeze under the door?

At THIS point, I'm thinking "what the hell kind of breezes are going to be coming into this tomb that Augusto has just built me? And if there happens to be one, it CAN'T compare to what we'd been living with for the past 5 years.

L: No lip.

E: Ok, well, you'll just have to get a salami.

Now I was visualizing an actual salami lying across the floor of my bedroom and thought about saying, "but my dogs will just eat it!". Then it occurred to me that he must be referring to something else, something that is called a salami but isn't really a salami. I decided not to make a joke...that would of course be lost in translation.

L: ok. I'll get a salami, if I really need one.

Flash forward to late October when the temperatures drop and the cold winds kick up, which happened to happen at the very same time that my enthusiastic dogs decide to rip to pieces one of our patio cushions.

I made my own salami.

On a completely unrelated note...I had a great time with my folks and their terrific friends who were visiting last weekend.

2009-10-16T15:24:00.000-07:00

Hey there, sorry I didn't write yesterday.

I WAS HAVING A BATH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yep. All day. The whole day I was enjoying and taking advantage of the fact that I had troubles with the electric company and I RESOLVED THEM! No small thing.

If you've ever lived...well...any where in which electricity is something that you take for granted coming out of the wall and that that power is controlled by some big anonymous company somewhere...well, you don't know where...you will understand my euphoria in having a hot bath.

Not writing earlier today...well, that's a different excuse. My parents arrived this afternoon. Yeah, I could have written in the morning but I was too busy doing the vacuuming that I couldn't do when I didn't have enough electricity and when I was in the bath (vacuuming in the bath is very dangerous, even if you have a very long extension hose- it's just not a good idea...even if it's not dangerous it certainly ruins a perfectly good bath!).

So, you can expect that I won't be writing for another couple of days since that's how long my folks with be here. But who knows...maybe we will do a joint post tomorrow night when they brave the road to Maberga to come for dinner.

Ps. Sorry for the video/music accompaniment of the post...it was either this or Ernie singing "Rubber Ducky", which, if you prefer you can find here.

Bad Maberga Day Follow Up

2009-10-14T10:10:00.000-07:00

note: if you are new to OliveKnitting or an avid reader who is behind in posts (shame on you), you'll need to read the previous post or this one won't make any sense to you. In fact, as it is, it makes little sense to me and I lived it.

Remember that "slight panic" I felt yesterday thinking that maybe something had gone wrong with my automatic bill pay that would have caused the electric company to turn off my electricity? Yeah, well...there you have it.

In Italy bills are paid every other month. It seems that I missed the july/august payment (or rather, the bank missed the july/august payment - but I'll get to that in a minute) which means that, given that it's October now, I haven't paid an electric bill since June. I must say here that Italy, although being disorganized at times, it is a humane enough place that they only lowered my power instead of cutting it off completely. They knocked my power down such that I can still turn a light on and keep my food cold, but not have the luxuries of hot water and clean clothes.

Let me tell you what was involved my discovering this bit of, rather crucial, information. It's a long story so grab a bottle of wine or a venti latte or something and get comfortable.

I started my detective work at the post office. We had received a notice of a registered letter that was waiting for us and I hadn't yet picked up (I'll take the blame when it's due...as it is here). I waited for about 45 minutes in line at the post office only to find out that I can't get the letter because it was sent to David.

"But I'm his wife. We even have the same last name!"

"Yes. But this is a registered letter for him, I can't give it to you unless he's signed the back of this little card."

"But he's out of town. He won't be back for a couple of weeks. The letter is from the electric company and I don't have any electricity(I exaggerated for pity). I need to know what they want!"

"Yes. That's a problem. But I can't give you the letter with out the signature."

After saying this she winked at me. Did that mean I was supposed to go outside, forge his signature and then come back in? I think that's what she was telling me. Italians, in my experience, are disorganized, humane AND they know how to work the system.

So I went outside, contemplated the forgery but then thought, well, I have that option but let me see what else I can do first. Truth be told, I just didn't want to spend another hour in line - especially with the possibility that when I got to the front she'd call me a criminal, call the police, and I still wouldn't have the letter.

I went to the bank instead. There I saw my teller pal Mimmo. I asked for a print out of my account activity. No payments to the electric company in the recent past. So after a brief discussion in which Mimmo informed me that there's already been frostings in Chicago, I asked about the electric company.

"Hmmm. Nope. No payments to them since...ummmm, June."

"Why?"

"Hmmm. I don't know. Have you gotten any letters from them?"

I launched into the story of the registered letter and the post office.

"Yes, that's a problem."

"I have the money in the account. There wasn't a bill that was sent back was there?"

"No. But it could be because our bank was bought out by another bank."

"But that happened a year ago! You've still been paying my automatic pay bills."

"Maybe the grace period expired."

"What?!"

"Come back with the last bill and we will call them to find out." This was very kind of him, knowing that phone calls to the electric company are trying and confusing for anyone but a nightmare and impossible for a foreigner.

"Ok, I'll be back after lunch."

"Or tomorrow is fine."

Yeah, right. Whatever. I've got to do laundry and have a bath!

"I'll see you this afternoon. When do you reopen in the afternoon?"

"2:35"

2:35???????? Ok, fine. "See later."

I went home, collected any and every bill I could find. And I tried calling the electric company myself. They informed me that they lowered my electricity because I hadn't paid the last bill. I told them that I had automatic bill pay through my bank. They said that I didn't. I said that indeed I have had since 2003.

"No, you don't, ma'am."

Back at the bank at 2:35 I was with Mimmo again. He looked at my bills and called the electric company. He was put on hold for 20 minutes. That's not an exaggeration. I stood there waiting, while Mimmo waited and a queue grew behind me...a long queue. He finally got them and, indeed, they didn't like that the bank had changed name and therefore they had a new code for automatic bill pay and so the whole thing needed to be set up again.

Mimmo: "I can do this for you. But you should go to the post office and pay this old bill now. And then call the electric company to tell them you've paid so they turn your power up."

I signed 14 forms in triplicate and ran to the post office. They too have funny hours of operation and I didn't want to miss them.

Another wait of, only 20 minutes this time. Phew. Done. Solved.

I went home and called the electric company again to tell them that I paid, I had a receipt and they could resume my hot water/laundry power.

"We need to see the receipt."

"How? I can't fax it to you because I don't have a fax and the post office is closed."

"Go to a tabacchaio."

"A cigarette shop?"

"Yeah. Do it tonight."

Back down the hill to my smoke shop. We fax the receipt. And I find out that I can pay bills there too, I don't need to wait in those horrible lines at the post office. Great. Good to know. The smoke shop is my new favorite place in the world.

Given that it was now going on 7pm, I didn't expect the resumption of my electricity immediately. But I was comforted in knowing I'd done all that was needed. All would be better in the morning, or at least sometime today.

Ok, I wasn't really sure of this. So when I woke up I called the electric company again.

"you need to fax us the receipt."

"I did that yesterday."

"But you need to write the customer id on the receipt."

"IT'S PRINTED ON THE RECEIPT!"

"Yes. But you still need to write the customer id on a piece of paper and fax that with the receipt." At least he didn't tell me that I had to write my fixed-line home phone number on the damn receipt.

"Ok. I'll do that now. And then when will my power come back?"

"By midnight the day after."

48 hours?! We're getting mighty close to me greeting my parents being dirty, in dirty clothes and in the dark on Friday.

I went back to the smoke shop.

"I needed to include my customer number with the fax we sent yesterday."

"But it's on you receipt." says my new best friend at the smoke shop.

Yeah! I KNOW! Hey, it's your country!

"Yes, but can we try again?" I say, more diplomatically.

So, now it's done. Solved. Again. Cross your fingers for midnight and the resumption of my power (electrically, that would be - I'm feeling rather empowered personally my this experience...in a strangely, out-of-control kind of way), it can't hurt given the randomness of everything else involved in this situation.

PS. Having told this whole story with the backdrop of Italy, I feel the need to mention here that in the past week I've also been dealing with bank disorganization with my bank in the US. The point, my friends: cash under the mattress.

2009-10-12T23:46:00.000-07:00

I'm having a "Bad Maberga" day.

And I've only been out of bed for 10 minutes.

A bad Maberga day is one in such nothing in the house seems to work. It is one in which I am painfully aware that I live on the top of a mountain, in a not-so organized foreign country, in a 400 year old house. It's such a day where, due to everything breaking, it's seems that my house and therefore my life is being held together by some bubble gum and and string. A bad Maberga day is when I wish I lived in a 3 year old condo in the 'burbs with a big thick Yellow Pages in the drawer where I can find someone to provide 24 hour service for ANYthing but which I wouldn't need because nothing breaks in my brand new dwelling.

Yesterday afternoon the power went out. An incredible wind had just kicked up so I thought it was because of that. Sometimes a strong wind can detach the bubble gum holding wires in place. I tried calling the electric company only to 1. get cut off after the extensive digital recorded menu, 2. get no one to answer after the extensive digital recorded menu, 3. get frustrated by the extensive digital menu. Why would the electric company's first recorded question of inquiry be "what is the fixed phone line of the house missing electricity?" I don't HAVE a fixed phone line...nor do many Italians these days. I do, however have a CUSTOMER ID which THEY ISSUED to me. Wouldn't you think that would be a more sensible and efficient place to start the inquiry? Yeah, well, back to the story...

After a slight panic, wondering if they had actually cut off my electricity because of some lack of sensibility and efficiency involved with my automatic bill payment from the bank, I decided to check the trip switch. I have that new fancy one in the kitchen, remember? It was installed when I got light switches in the house last year. So I move the fridge, climbed behind it to flip the braker...nothing. I panic a bit more and then remember the electric box outside the house.

There you go! Electricity, lights, action! I don't know why the kitchen box didn't register the jump in current and the garden one did. Frankly I didn't care because it meant that electricity was indeed coming to my house and I wouldn't have to spend the rest of eternity trying to convince the electric company that I don't have a fixed phone line but still do need help with my electricity.

Prior to losing the electricity I had put the bathroom rug in the washing machine. It's an old rug, still lovely and functional but old. In the spin cycles her rubber backing began disintegrating. An explosion of rubber confetti in my washing machine. Which, combined with the 10 ton of collected dog hair that is in the washing machine drain at any given time (even just after cleaning it), the washing machine, of course, got stopped up. I was able to extract the poor rug from the pool of rinse water and rubber confetti it was sitting in. I cleaned the filter and the drain and anything else I could detach and ran the washer again to get rid of the excess water and some more of the confetti.

Yeah, I know...even writing that right now, I can see how utterly stupid that was.

Anyway, so after I got the electricity back I ran this other empty load. And...the current jumps again. I go hit the switch (outside) and all is fine again. Except that there is a message flashing across the little screen on the electric box saying..., well, I have no idea what it was saying but my understanding was that I was using too much electricity.

Ok, fine. I'll turn off the washing machine. All that's on now is the fridge and the hot water heater. Not even one light is on.

The power goes out again. I turn it back on and get the message that I'm using too much electricity again.

I go inside and turn off the water heater. Fine. It's now late in the day and I'm resigned to sorting out the situation in the morning. Ok, truth be told I was hoping the problem would just go away during the night.

Nope.

I sleepily came downstairs this morning, straight to the bathroom for my morning pee. Where, of course, I found the washing machine with the standing water and little bits of rubber confetti all over the place (I didn't dare vacuum yesterday). I pee and wash my hands - ohhhh, ice cold water. That's right, the water heater's been off since yesterday. In a vain attempt at eternal optimism, I turn on the washing machine. It runs...now being cautiously optimistic (to soon for screams of celebration and delight, yet) I go to the kitchen for a coffee. I turn the computer on to check email.

JUMP! I lose power again.

Did you ever think about how important electricity is in your house? How many things depend on electricity? Here's the list in my house...

--light
--heat
--edible food
--hot water
--computer and Internet
--stove
--washing machine
--the elevator, no wait, I'm just kidding about that one

I'm feeling eternally grateful right now to the person or people who engineered the modern toilet for making it work with out a plug.

So, if you'll excuse me now, I'm going to try to figure this out now.

This Ol' Garden: inch by inch

2009-10-11T12:11:00.000-07:00

Welcome to OliveKnitting's October episode of "This Ol' Garden".

I know that it's been a while since the last garden episode but...well, get off my back.

This episode is brought to you by The Self (Italy's version of the Home Depot and the only shop open on Sundays to buy flowers) and my parents who are visiting next weekend and I don't want to give me shit about my neglected garden.

Ok, that's just a grown woman trying to blame her parents for her own problems...this one being slack. I HAVE neglected my garden.

This episode's challenge: what can you do with 50euro, a shovel, and an infinite amount of optimism.

Here are some before photos. That being, before slack. Before the Self. Before I spent the morning on the beach with my girlfriends. Before the imminent visit from my parents. I'll just give you the highlights, or rather, lowlights, as they were.

That's the whole picture, in all its neglected glory.

hmmm? Who can kill geraniums? Seems I can. Me, I can.

Oh, look! Another dead one.

I call this one "empty broken pot meant to be artistic, planted in ground". Perhaps it worked 6 months ago when I put it in that hole in the patio to disguise the, well, the HOLE IN THE PATIO. It's not really working any more, you know, as purely an artistic piece.

Here we have composting Cornwell style. That would be the morning's coffee grounds on severely dog trampled earth among severely dog trampled rose bushes. Lovely.

So I spent the day pulling weeds, picking stones, turning earth, strategically placing big rocks, and planting.

E ecco! (and here we are!)

a little color. I'm sure that mum will thrive given the compost and that dog fence.

check out the new strategically planted pots in this photo! Ok, it's just one pot that broke in half when I took the dead geranium out of it. Come on! Remember the 50euro budget?! A girl does what she can.

Newly placed big rocks to fill the space that my 50euro budget couldn't AND a great dog deterrent! See that big dog run away!

Awww. Doesn't that look sweet? A little more color in the former home of my tomato plants.

Ummm...well...that's it. Ok, there are some hanging potted plants that wouldn't photograph so well in the dark. It seems that the flash on the camera needs something closer to reflect on than the mountains on the other side of the valley. And the empty pot got the old geraniums...I decided I wasn't ready to give up on them (or myself) yet.

(mental note to self - me, not the store The Self - if you're really not going to slack, don't spend the majority of your gardening day at the beautiful Italian Riviera beach when there are many hours of gardening to do and you finish after dark. Particularly if you want to photograph them for your blog.)

And there you have this episode of This Ol' Garden. Impressive, no? I'm sure my parents will be gushing.

Ps. If you're wondering what the hell I spent 50euro on, like, are mums THAT expensive here?! No, they aren't. I also had to buy tons of potting soil. And a new door mat that will welcome the folks into the house so they don't spend too much time enjoying my landscape architecture.

Next OliveKnitting blog will focus on interior improvements.

Pss. I hope you all took the time (all 9 minutes) to listen to Arlo's accompaniment (the video of the day). I would like to thank Arlo - nice song, fun dialog. And my husband for introducing me to, among other things, this song, Arlo, and playing along with me in this life leading to a garden near the Italian Riviera that I get to work inch by inch.

it takes more than enthusiasm

2009-10-06T09:20:00.000-07:00

Remember this?

Yeah, that was the "I'm 39 and I've always wanted a knit coat" birthday present to myself last year. Anybody wondering what ever happened to that? Yeah, probably not but I'll tell you anyway.

So I started knitting away on my birthday coat. I had that beautiful sky blue yarn. It was nice and thick and I was using big ol' needles - I was cruising! At the point where I was decreasing for the armpits on the back, I realized how damn heavy the material was being created by this nice, thick yarn. Heavy. I held the almost finished back up and I could literally see it grow. The weight of itself was stretching it to heights you could not imagine. In the 3 and a half minutes I had it hanging, that back of the birthday coat stretched and stretched until that material went from sky blue to ocean blue, cascading down the stairs like a flowing river.

Ok, that was slight exaggeration with a little hyperbole and a mixed metaphor for spice.

The point is ... I frogged it.

(knitting vocab: "to frog"; verb; to quit, to give up, to rip back HOURS AND HOURS AND HOURS of knitting while crying and cursing simultaneously)

Remember this?

And this?

That yarn look familiar? Yeah, that's birthday coat yarn.

Just a little knitting tip I learned in my 39th year...just because you totally love a pattern and you adore some yarn doesn't mean you can put them together. There are laws of physics, laws of taste, and laws of time, money and sanity that must be taken into consideration. In this case, physics got me.

For you non knitters, let me explain it this way: I LOVE anchovies. I adore my mom's raisin oatmeal cookies. Should they be put together? Ok. moving on now...

So now I'm 40 and I still don't have a knit coat. I do however, have a SECOND frogged birthday coat already under my belt (and I've only been 40 for a few weeks).

Being older and wiser this year than last, I thought I'd try again. This year I did some research. I looked through all my knitting books and magazines, I surfed all my favorite spots on the net. I put hours into the sweater before I even cast on. Then it came to me, from that great knitting paradise in the Pacific Northwest ... KnitPicks.

Not falling sucker to the 39 year old's mistake, I even bought the yarn that the pattern was written for. I planned it so the pattern and yarn would arrive while I was in the States, I packed it tenderly for the long journey over the ocean, then neatly placed it in a prominent spot in my studio where it awaited my birthday.

This is what I chose.

I loved the contrast between the curvy flow of the jacket and the geometric stitch pattern.

So, I'm sitting in my birthday fort on my birthday with a bowl of birthday popcorn, some new birthday movies and I'm ready to cast on my 40 year old's knit jacket.

"Hmmm...it's kind of hard to read this pattern. Maybe it's too dark in this fort. (lamp added to fort) Now I can read it but, hell, this flow and geometry is too much to think about on my birthday, particularly when I'm trying to watch Brad, George and Matt while eating popcorn. I'll start it tomorrow."

40 years + 1 day: I did a swatch. hmmm, not bad.

I also meet a cow on the road

but I digress...

Then I made myself knit this flow and geometry every evening BEFORE I allowed myself to watch a movie. The two couldn't be done together. There was row counting and stitch counting and repeats and decreases. It was becoming a chore. No, it was a chore from that first reading of the pattern in my birthday fort. And it remained a chore every day, hour, every stitch. I got this far.

That's when I found a flaw in the written pattern.

Thinking that this was divine intervention allowing me to quit this horrendous knitting project, I got a little excited by my pattern conundrum. Then, feeling 40 and mature and all that bullshit, I decided to try to "stick with it", "solve the problem", "be patient". I looked up the pattern on KnitPicks for corrections - nothing. I went to Ravelry and emailed a total stranger who was knitting the same jacket - she had already frogged it. I wrote to customer service at KnitPicks. The lovely ladies there wrote me back and tried to help (they really do have good customer service) - too late. I frogged the f^$*er.

So now I have 20 skeins of beautiful coat weight yarn...I've started knitting this:

Older and so much wiser.

2009-10-03T07:14:00.000-07:00

I'm really wondering when I developed A.D.D. Is there such a thing as adult onset attention deficit disorder? There must be because I'm definitely A.D.D. now and I definitely wasn't as a child.

Really, it's true. You can ask my parents, or my sister, or any of my childhood friends how I was as a kid (ok, those three profiles encompass 98% of my readership). I was a parents' dream (we're talking under the age of 10 here). I could keep myself occupied for hours, no DAYS without any problem. None. Collecting stones, gluing sticks to bark, making forts...all alone, for hours, DAYS. This of course made me a sister's nightmare, or at least my sister's nightmare. She wasn't that into stones and I wasn't that into talking about boys (again, we're talking about the pre-10 years). I'm not exactly sure how my childhood behaviors affected my friends...those of you reading, feel free to chime in in the comments, don't worry you won't hurt my feelings.

And now? I don't get it. My attention span now stretches all of ...well, not long. For example, I just forgot what I was saying because I got up to get a glass of water and some knitting - something to do between sentences. Oh, yeah, I was saying that I have a hard time focussing for a long time. I'd like to say I can watch a whole movie but I can really only do that if I'm doing something else at the same time - something with my hands. Just like that kid in kindergarten who needed to have flour filled balloon in his (or her) hands in order to sit through classroom group time. Yup. That's me.

When did this happen and how do I get rid of it? It's kind of getting in my way. It's negatively affecting my life. Here's some examples:

--my dogs only get 5 minute walks...they get 20 a day, but still only 5 minutes a pop.
--seen any finished knitting projects posted here lately? Nope, you sure haven't.
--I have a hairless, naked doll lying on my work table
--only half of garden is green, the half closest to the hose
--I can't seem to finish a blog post

cheap blogging trick..

2009-09-29T16:08:00.000-07:00

Yeah, I'm resorting to cheap blogging tricks.

I promise to wax philosophical about something tomorrow or maybe the day after...or maybe the day after that, but in the mean time enjoy this video I found the other day while looking for German music. No, I can't explain the connection between German music and this rap, just relax and go with it.

A little something to think about

2009-09-26T01:11:00.000-07:00

Three grass widows got together last night to break bread. Actually it was shrimp gnocchi in a tomato cream sauce but, well, whatever. With spouses in Hungary, Dusseldorf and Puglia, Claus, Ralph and I shared a lovely evening of food and friends.

Ralph doesn't like speaking English. I don't know how to speak German (apart from, of course, "lecker!" or, my favorite, "kostlich!".) We spent the evening speaking Italian. An Italian would probably disagree, but to us it was Italian. We understood each other...well, sometimes Claus and I had a tough time comprehending Ralph (in any language) but that's just a Ralph thing, nothing to do with language skills.

We spoke about music and movies, families and house projects. We made plans to go to a flea market tomorrow. You know, normal dinner conversation among two Germans and one American speaking Italian.

At one point Claus brought up that famous myth about America almost being a German speaking country. If you don't know it, you can read about it here

Then the dude got a little philosophical, "how would that have changed the entire mentality and outlook of your nation, Lynn? Just imagine the effect on America as a whole, in every aspect of life, if the forefathers had voted German as the official language? Wow."

(Actually what he really said was something more like this "how change all think and look of peoples of your country, Lynn? You imagine the effect of America of all ways if America's daddies make speak German the Americans" - none of us are so fluent with the subjunctive or conditional tenses in Italian...and for a couple of us, the simple past tense ain't so simple either...but I digress)

Wow is right. Give that a little ponder.

Then, try to picture all the Cubans in Miami speaking German. Or a Texan oil man. Or a Chicago Puerto Rican. Or a New Orleans jazz singer. Or a Wyoming rancher.

Yeah, that had us laughing, too. Rolling on the floor laughing, actually.

Now ponder this: why is that so funny?

40 and Shameless, or not shameless enough

2009-09-19T17:14:00.001-07:00

Damn. I've been in this country too long.

Let me explain...yes, yes, hold your horses...I'll get to the Miss Italia thing from the last post.

When you are a foreigner in a foreign land you have certain freedoms. If you weren't born in the country you've chosen to live in, no matter how long you are there you can get away with a lot of things you wouldn't normally be able to in your own mother culture. I'm not talking about robbing a bank or speeding, you still get busted for those types of things (although in this country, apparently you can park illegally if your car has foreign plates because the system doesn't know where to send the ticket). I'm not talking about breaking the law but rather doing things that are, well odd or even down right weird, or rather shameless.

Of course, the natives notice when we foreigners do strange things but then they just write it off -- "she's American", they reason. As if that explains everything. There's a small community of Italians here, known as my friends, who have a really strange and completely wrong idea of what an American is because they're basing it on their only two known examples...David and me.

So I'm explaining all this to get to the Miss Italia thing.

Yesterday, after finding out about the celebrity sighting in Maberga (and after blogging to you guys about it) I grabbed my camera and the dogs and we ran up the hill.

Of course I realized that Miss Italia and her entourage were going to know that I'd heard they were up there in Old Maberga from neighbor Oreste, whom they'd just met, and that's why I'd come running like some foolish, amateur paparazza to get some stupid amateur photos of the beauty queen. But "who cares?!" I thought, "They can blame this foolish behavior on my being a foreigner - an American, even! For all they know, we have no pride. That's cool with me. Let them think we're all shameless idiots and in the mean time, I'll just ask if I can get a nice photo of Miss Italia to share with my blog."

So I ran all the way up there, breathless with camera set, dogs ready as props...and...and... I chickened out. I didn't ask for a photo.

I felt like a shameless idiot. I've been here too long. I've grown shame. Next thing you know I won't be wearing my potato printed sheet skirt in public any more. Damn.

So the foolish (and cowardly) girl who ran a kilometer up hill with her dogs to ask for a photo of someone who's not actually all that famous instead pretended to be on a walk with her dogs and, um, making photos of them?

I know. I know. It's embarrassing. And I didn't just toss the ball a couple of times either. I stayed there a LONG time, still pretending to play catch, hoping to get the opportunity for a photo without having to ask, you know, on the sly.

Here's what I got...(Anybody remember the movie Fletch?)

These are her photographers...

'Course I also got some nice photos of the dogs...

And this crocus...

And neighbor Oreste's nice pumpkin...

Naw, I haven't been here too long. For one thing, I haven't yet started taking this view for granted...

Oh yeah...I also snuck this photo of them leaving as they drove past my house, obviously while hiding behind the beads of my front door.

I hope they didn't see me.

On a completely unrelated note - although not totally unrelated since I feel shame for having overlooked these family members again this year...I'd like to wish a big Happy Birthday do all fellow Cornwells with September celebrations, past and future:

sister-in-law, Rosanne - Sept 14
brother-in-law, Paul - Sept 15
myself, Lynn - Sept 16
dog, Ruffino - Sept 18
brother-in-law, Kevin - Sept 26
sister-in-law, Florence - Sept 29

Wow. That's a lot of Cornwellian celebrations. I hope you all had/have great birthdays full of family and friends...or alone, if you prefer.

Here's what I did on my big day because the rain squelched my outdoor dream day...

Yeah, it's a fort. Here's the inside...

Anyway, hope the rest of you Cornwells have/had as cozy of a day as I did. Happy Birthday, everyone.

Maberga News Flash

2009-09-19T07:11:00.000-07:00

Friends, I'm here to tell you that Maberga has hit the map.

There are 3 photographers up in the old village of Maberga Soprana making photos of...are you ready...Miss Italy.

Should I go up there and make some photos for you guys?

Reflections on a rainy day...

2009-09-15T11:30:00.000-07:00

I woke up from a lovely, rainy day afternoon nap today with a conversation I had with my dad on my recent trip to Wisconsin on my mind.

As a worrying father who continues to believe, 40 years on, that his daughter's safety and well-being is inversely proportional to the number of miles she lives from her parents' house, my dad asked me the usual question, "Do you want to move back (to the US)?"

The usual response, "I don't rule the possibility out, but at this time - no, I don't want to move back."

Usually this question is followed up by a long sigh (dad) and a list of reasons that Italy, Maberga in particular, is a mighty fine place to be (me).

This year there was no sigh but rather a follow up question, "Are there any, umm, how can I say it, conveniences that you are missing?"

This question kind of caught me off guard. I mean come on...my house now has stairs connecting the two floors, I have (almost constant) running water, switches to turn the lights on and off (some are even 3 wayers!), and with the most recent renovations and upgrades I've got roofs that keep water and bugs out and heat in. I've even got high speed Internet now.

The only thing that popped into my head was, "I'd really like to install one of those shower nozzle hooks above our tub so I don't have to hold the shower head in my hand the whole time I shower."

A hook. That was all I could think of.

Here are some "conveniences" that you won't find in Casa Cornwell (in no particular order):
--a microwave
--central heat
--closets
--a dishwasher (other than myself)
--satellite tv
--a tv
--air conditioning
--a fridge that dispenses cold water and ice from a hole in the door
--a clothes dryer
--a garbage disposal

Apart from the last one, and that shower hook, I can't say that I really miss any of those things.

I'm not sure exactly why I thought of this conversation upon waking up from my nap today. Maybe because in my former life (pre-Maberga) when I did have all of the above mentioned conveniences the one thing I didn't have was the time to take a lovely, rainy day afternoon nap on a Tuesday in September.

Safe and sound and home again

2009-09-12T12:15:00.000-07:00

I'll be back up posting again just as soon as I've digested (literally and figuratively) from the past two weeks in the US.

Happy Sunday

a travelling knitter's improvise

2009-08-29T14:16:00.000-07:00

So I was in Nice checking in for my flight to the US...to mom and dad's house in Wisconsin, to be specific.

I made a newbie knitter mistake.

"I have some knitting needles. Will they take them away from me at security?"

Slight confusion on the flight attendant's part. Her English was impeccable but there are certain vocabulary that probably don't pop up every day.

"What?"

I showed her my mini circular.

"Yeah. You could definitely hurt somebody with those. They'll take them. Put them in your checked bag ma'am."

After slight confusion on my part, I put the needles in my checked bag.

She told me I could carry on my yarn, though.

I had a 2 hour transfer wait in Munich. My fingers got a little restless. I improvised

By the time they brought me my pretzels, I had this

Improvisation

Mambo Italiano

2009-08-26T07:47:00.000-07:00

Can anybody think of a way to show off your vacation photos so that they are some what, remotely, maybe kind of, interesting for others to look at?

Yeah, me neither.

Truth be told, however, I do personally love seeing other people's holiday photos. I find them totally fascinating. Particularly when I don't know anyone in any of the photos.

I also like other people's wedding photos...but let's keep on track here...holiday photos.

Seeing photos of a trip I didn't go on is fun as long as you don't have to hear all the "it was SOOOO funny" stories that go along with them. I just don't care and yeah, it's really true, "you had to be there" for all holiday stories.

Given MY preferences (given it's MY blog), here are some snap shots - no captions, no stories, no explanations.

Hey! I know! Let's make a game of it. Free pair of hand knit mittens, socks, or hat (your choice) to the best captions or invented stories that go along with any one of the photos. Rules of the game are like this: You all write something funny or interesting or philisophical, or whatever about one of the photos, send it to me via email or the comments. Then, I'll be the judge (remember? MY blog). Then I post the winners and send these lucky folks whatever wooly goodie they want. Doesn't that sound fun?

Do keep in mind that all the people in the photos are my family so don't be nasty (all family except for the really tall girl, we just picked her up along the way but she's really nice so don't be nasty to her either).

An Italian Adventure...

(Just in case anyone reading today is new new new to Olive Knitting...the holiday was the long awaited celebration of my husbands 50th birthday that involved his really great kids coming all the way to Italy for the two week long festivities)

birthdays

2009-08-11T13:45:00.000-07:00

Have I been neglecting this blog or what? Sorry about that.

Do you want the excuses? Ok, no. I don't want to give them either. If they were anything good, well, I'd have been WRITING about them!

Not exactly true (ie: I've been writing lazy)...

For example at the last Das Needle meeting, Mette decided that we should celebrate my birthday. That's cool, isn't it? She surprised me with this

How great is that yarn? I felt really honored (and well understood in that she found the strangest, funkiest yarn possible and thought of me). That's so nice. And the basket was made by Mette. Beautiful.

She gave it to me in her very cool new studio space.

(a little note: can you see that spigot in the wall behind us there? Guess what comes out of that spigot? I'll give you a clue...it ain't water)

And Christine made me an upside down pineapple cake.

At this same gathering we all got to goggle over some FOs. Mette made this awesomely cute dress (yes, I was a little bummed that it wasn't in my size and therefore not another birthday gift for me)

And Natalie finished this whopper (which you can tell from her joy wearing it, it wasn't for me either, damn)

On a different day that I was ignoring you guys, pals Andrea and Natalie took me to the Lago Verde (green lake). Awesome. This is where I'm going to spend my real birthday when, as you may or may not know I will be spending (voluntarily) alone. Sorry that the photos suck.

Here are the woods you walk through to get to the lakes.

The view is 360, indescribable, and really quite impossible to photograph. Here's just a hint.

I'll try to do better with the photos next time. While we were there this time we saw some tadpoles becoming frogs

When you see that, it's really hard NOT to picture your own original sperm sprouting some legs that become the ones you walk on. It's weird, really.

Perhaps you all are thinking that I'm, maybe, weird. Look at this photo and tell me you don't start thinking about sperm

Ok, now I've digressed from my birthday to sperm...maybe not such a big digression...anyway...let's not go there.

So, the other stuff that I've been doing in the time that I've been ignoring you all, has been cleaning, and organizing and cleaning, ordering and inviting, and...well tomorrow I leave for Tuscany. I'm going to meet up with David and his kids, Emily and Graham. We are all converging on Tuscany to begin the celebration of David's 50th birthday. We'll spend some days cycling (ok, ok, ok...no, I'm not cycling. I'll be knitting and reading, maybe blogging, by day and then spending evenings with the cyclists). Then we'll be back to continue the celebrations at our home.

Stay tuned.

Older than I once was but younger than...

2009-08-03T10:40:00.000-07:00

So I'm sitting here feeling kind of old.

Now, I know that I'm not old, I'll be 40 next month. As far as numbers go that's not really old, not really. But it seems that a lot of things have come together at this one point in time and space causing, from my view, the look and feel of aging. Kind of like when the right kind of rain is falling on an otherwise sunny day and you are in just the right position to see the full double rainbow. That's what's happening to me. A bunch of individual rain drops have fallen on my sunny day providing me a glimpse at the rainbow of being old. I don't have a problem or fear of old age. I welcome it, really. I see life becoming that rainbow that can only happen through the experience of years walking this earth.

But even in my rainbow vision of aging...there's still the rain.

So I'm feeling old right now because I've spent a good part of the day working on my husband's 50th birthday party. 50. I'm married to someone who's passed 50 summers. Half a century.

I'm also feeling old because I moved some rubble around behind the house yesterday and now my back is so stiff that I'm about as nimble as my 98 year old Grandmother. Ok, I just added that comparison to my grandma to let you all know that I still have a living grandparent...that makes me less old, right? Yeah, she's 98 (maybe 99, I lose track of these things) but she's still here. Which, as I type that doesn't make me feel any better about having to bend at the knees to pick up the ball to toss it to my "energetic" dogs (although the deep knee bend are probably doing some good for my 40 year old ass).

And then, when I sat down to write a post tonight my topic was going to be the Vinolymiadi that happened yesterday in the next town up the valley. The Vinolymiadi is, well, the Wine Olympics. It's a day long competition in which teams participate in a series of events, each involving consumption of insane amounts of alcohol - mostly of grape origin. The games began at 9am with croissants and "coffee corretto" (espresso with a shot) and concluded at 6pm with the singing event where each drunken group of fools, um, I mean team had to perform a song. Yep, that's 9 hours of drinking. Other events involved wine tasting, running with trays of wine and a 2 liter bottle of wine lunch.

No, I don't feel old because I'm hungover. I'm not hungover, and that's what's adding to my agedness** today. I didn't participate in the festivities yesterday. The very thought of that kind of drinking makes me sick my stomach these days. Those of you who know me will understand... I'm getting old.

Although, having said all that, I felt myself swell with pride as I saw the team comprised of all my friends WON. My pals took the gold. That I'm proud of these friends for out drinking everyone else, well, can't make me that old yet, can it?

I'm also happy to report that all of my aforementioned friends made it home safely. They made it home at 2.30am at which time I was also safely in bed ...after coming home at 10pm, knitting, listening to the end of the Timber Rattlers' game on the radio and reading myself to sleep.

Hmmmm?

Young at heart?

**When you spell check "agedness", which apparently is an invented word, you get "jaggedness" or "nakedness". Hmmm.

PS. Music provided again from Wayne. Thanks, Pal.

Foto Op Friday...

2009-07-31T11:19:00.000-07:00

I've been trying to think of something to pontificate about tonight on this post...nothing came to me. I seem to be pontificateless at the moment.

How about a photo update instead?

Ok. Be sure to turn on your music accompaniment brought to you tonight by Wayne.

Let's go somewhere over Maberga...

Das Needles Ladies review:

I did bring you all with me to the Needles this week, just was a bit lazy in posting about it. Here you are driving down the mountain with me

And here we are meeting Christine at the bottom of the road

We also picked up Natalie on the way here at the usual place, where the giant mushroom meets the Studebaker

Yeah, ok...it's probably not a Studebaker and, as an American I should know what that beast is, But still...

Back to Natalie and our date with the needles

This is Montalto where Mette lives. Well, actually here's the view from Montalto

Ok, skip forward. Here's the knitting

Umm, we actually had a lot more fun than that photo shows. For example, we all marvelled at the helicopter sweater in all its finished (Danish) glory

And another finished (Danish) masterpiece

Then we all went home. Christine took some of Natalie's bamboo home with her on her vespa (sorry, shitty photo)

Garden photo update:

Zucchini

Can anyone not grow zucchini? Me. Apparently I can not. See all those nice flowers up there? Not one zucchini coming. And don't tell me to be patient because I've had about 1 million of those flowers since I've started this whole exercise in futility known as my vegetable garden.

Tomatoes

Who wants to volunteer to eat those beauties? Yeah, that's what I thought.

Should I kick this guy off my one decent looking tomato?

I'm happy to report that the cane that I used to build the fence to keep the dogs out is growing at exponential rates. I expect that it'll be a 6 foot privacy by September

(In case you're new to OliveKnitting or maybe an avid reader but a little dim...NO! I did NOT intend to have the cane sprout and grow...I cut it dead and used its dead can skeletons like a , umm, I don't know who uses skeletons, but that's what I did. That little segment I wrote there about it growing into a privacy fence... that was sarcasm.)

For my own self esteem, let's leave the garden and go to the studio and newly finished FOs (sorry for that bad wording...what I just said, if you don't speak knitiano was something akin to "here's a photo of my just born new-born"...yeah, you just don't say that...in any language)

Beautiful white clean cotton washcloths

Don't you just want to wash your face?

I call these "Big Socks"

because, they are some big socks.

A couple of new hats

Which are always way more enjoyable to photograph on my own head than they are to knit.

Some blue socks

Which are, ..., blue.

And the mittens.

A blue one waving

to the orange/brown/rust/terracotta colored one

And here's a photo catching them both in action

(PS. You all need to be in awe of that last photo since it's my hands in those mitts, my eye behind the camera, and my big toe on the 'take picture' button of the camera. Don't mention it...I'd do just about anything for you readers.)

while you're waiting...

2009-07-30T01:12:00.000-07:00

for me to write an actual post, enjoy this fun video sent to me by Mike in Boulder.

We should all have so much fun at a train station! Or even in our own kitchens.

Sound of Music Train Station @ Yahoo! Video

a new summer Sunday tradition...

2009-07-26T13:01:00.000-07:00

As you readers know, or not, I've recently become a fan of the minor league baseball team the Wisconsin Timber Rattlers. Every morning I check their standing and stats from the night before. I subscribe to and actually read their newsletter. I'm going to go see one of their games when I go to the States in September.

On Sundays, when they play at 2pm Wisconsin time which is doable-listening-time in Italy, I listen. I fire up my high speed internet connected computer and pull up WNAM-AM out of Appleton, Wisconsin while humming the National Anthem in anticipation.

Game day: hot dog for dinner (with pasta salad instead of chips or fries or kraut - I'm in Italy).

Wisconsin Timber Rattlers vs the Peoria Chiefs

Scarpetta is pitching for the Rattlers. He's my favorite. He sucks but I like his name. I can't wait.

Sold out crowd in Maberga for the game.

top of the first inning.... I cast on second sock of a pair, counting stitches and listening to the game, I manage to miss the Timber Rattlers' home run.

bottom of the 1st... change color in the sock, begin ribbing (the sock, not the Chiefs), still listening and manage to miss Peoria's two run homer.

second inning (top and bottom)...notice that the sky is pink, go outside to enjoy the evening, miss...apparently nothing.

top of the 3rd...come back inside, play a couple games of mahjong on the computer while listening to the game, and still some how miss the Rattlers' batting completely. Scoreboard says that I didn't miss much.

bottom of the 3rd...working down the leg of the sock and happen to hear that Peoria hit a grand slam.

top of the 4th...hear an announcement for the Fang soap dispenser give away (I missed the date when that game will be, make mental note to check the newsletter to see when this is and see if I'm eligible in absentia. Fang is, of course the mascot of the Rattlers), missed everything else that happened in this half of the inning.

bottom of the 4th... still knitting straight, no sock color change, but caught a Rattlers' pitching change. Rigoberto Almonte. Another great name (that's the name of the pitcher, not the color of the yarn with which I'm knitting. However, truth be told, I'd buy some Rigoberto Almonte yarn, sight unseen, just because it's a good name. As it goes, I feel the same about this pitcher). 6 Peoria runs score, and I get really far on the leg of my sock. Poor Rigoberto. Perhaps they should have stuck it out with Scarpetta.

top of the 5th...homer for the Rattlers! Yippee they're only losing 12 - 2 now. Oh, now it's time for Timber Rattler trivia in the 5th, I love this.

ooops, I forgot that I turned the water on to fill the vasca about 7 hours ago. The vasca would be full and over flowing by now (over flow happening probably even before the opening pitch)...time out Maberga as I go close the tap.

Shit. I missed the trivia question while tending to the water overflow. Back in time, however, for a another Rattler pitching change to some guy with such an uninteresting name that I've just heard it and have already forgotten it.

top of the 6th...At home listening to baseball via radio, I am missing the popcorn vendor and Scooter-the-BeerMan from Coors field in Denver. Thinking about Scooter, and Denver and popcorn and listening to the whole of the inning, I missed it all. It seems that neither team scored....nor did anything interesting happen.

top of the 7th...

7th inning stretch...

bottom of the 7th...

top of the 8th...I get an email invitation to dinner on Tuesday night, I write back, I miss the Rattlers loading the bases, and a run scored. Ok, now I'm listening...2 more Rattler runs score.

bottom of the 8th...Another pitching change, now the Timber Rattlers' shortstop Marseco is pitching, I love minor league baseball. 3 up, 3 down. Way to go Marseco.

top of the 9th...I don't mean to be pessimistic but the Rattlers are down 12 -5, it doesn't look good for the good guys. BUT, stranger things have happened in the minors.

Not tonight. Game over.