Crazy Making

This happened.

See the ones on the top.  Those are the buttons that I wanted for the owl eyes.  I went over the Central Avenue and picked them up before the big blizzard last month.  I had ten owls and the buttons all have seven buttons on the card so two cards should do it.  Right, ten owls, 14 buttons--I'm good to go.  Repeat after me--OWLS HAVE TWO EYES.  That's right two eyes.  Each.  Crap.  Six buttons short.  Back to Central Avenue (what fresh hell is this) to get more.   Perfect.  I had a red owl hat waiting in the wings that I had only bought two cards for too so I picked up another strip of those too.

First hat done and in the mail.  Second hat done and, what's this?  The white ones of the EXACT SAME BUTTONS only have six on a card.  Six.  Not seven.  So now I'm short two buttons.

Back to Central Avenue (fer Chrissake) and now I buy a bunch of buttons (see the photo).  See the white ones on top?  Suddenly, they have seven on the card.  SEVEN!!!

The ones on the bottom--totally wrong buttons.  Right size on one card but wrong button.  Wrong size and wrong button on the other card.

Oye!

Next up, this.

It's a brown owl hat even though it looks purple in the photo.

I lost it.  Couldn't find the damn thing anywhere.  I could have lived with that for a while because I have two more owl hats to make but see that needle?  It's the only 16" size 6 that I have.  To add insult to injury, it wasn't alone.  This was with it.

Except, unlike in this picture, nine of the owls had eyes.  Only one owl left to sew the stupid eyes on (okay they're not really stupid) and it had gone missing.

I checked everywhere.  Called the bar that I knew I had it in (although they probably would have called me if I left knitting there).  Nowhere to be found. 

They were finally found the other day.  Sitting right on Couch 22 next to my front door.

Crazy making I tell you.  Crazy making!

And the only person to blame is me.

Carmowl Hat

Lord, it's been a long time since I've written here.  Need back on that.

But for the moment, it's time for a fast and dirty pattern.   I'll be writing up nicer one with pictures to post on Ravelry, but for now this will have to do.

My friend Carmel saw an owl hat online and she wanted one.  I few quick Facebook posts and a dive into the stash and I was ready to go.  We're knitters.  That's what we do when someone wants a hat.

And then I hit a brick wall.  The pattern called for size 5 needles and I couldn't find mine.   Anywhere.  I have a huge bowl full of double points and there wasn't a five among them.  Easily fixed by a quick run to Jo Anns (also grabbed some buttons for the eyes) and I was casting on.

It seemed wrong.  It seemed really, really, really small.  But I trusted the pattern (my mistake) and kept knitting.  It became apparent very quickly that I was out of my mind.    Brick wall number two.

A lunchtime visit to Ravelry and I had plenty of patterns to choose from.  But none of them were quite right.  I'm picky about a hat--particularly one that is basically a plain beanie--and the ones that I was finding were all just far enough over the line of wrong for me that, I decided to just wack some owls on my basic beanie and call it a day.

Here's what I did:

Gauge:  6 stitches to the inch. 

Yarn:  A nice soft worsted weight wool.

Needles: A set of 5 double points to get gauge.  I used US 6.  You can also use a 16" circular of the same size to do most of that hat until the crown gets too tight.  But I couldn't find mine so I did the whole thing on dpns.  I'm picking one up today.

Cast one 100 stitches.

Knit 2, Purl 2 for 8 rounds.

On the next round, *knit 10, M1*.  I did mike M1 by lifting the bar between the stitches so the needle was coming front to back (I just corrected this because the original post had it wrong.)  Then knit into the back of the stitch.  Repeat from * to * all the way around.

This gives you 110 stitches.  You'll need 11 stitches for each of the owls.

For the record, I start with fewer stitches than I need because I have strong feelings about the ribbing being snug enough.  This was one of the problems that I had with the patterns I was finding--the ribbing was too floppy.

You're now ready to start your owls.  This part is fun. 

You're going to repeat each direction 10 times around the hat to set up 10 little owls.

Round 1--purl 3, knit 8
Round 2--ditto
Round 3--do that again
Round 4--purl 3, Cable 4 Back (C4B), Cable 4 Front (C4F)
Round 5--purl 3, knit 8
Round 6 to 11--keep doing round 5
Round 12--purl 3, C4B, C4F
Round 13-- purl 3, knit 8
Round 14--purl 3, knit 1, purl 2, knit 2, purl 2, knit 1 (you're making the eyes)
Round 15--same as round 14
Round 16--purl 3, knit 8
Round 17--again
Round 18--purl 3, C4B, C4F
Round 19--purl 3, knit 8

And now you have owls.  Stop to admire how cute they are.  If they seem a little scrunched up, don't worry.  They will stretch out when you put it on a head.

It's really only two rows to learn with the eye rows thrown in to keep you on your toes.

Now just keep on knitting until it is 6 inches long from the cast on row measured right up to the needle.

This is a basic, good crown that works for me every time.  You're going to need a stitch count that you can dived by 8.  In this case, 112 and will work so you'll need to increase 2 stitches.  I did it like this.  Knit 55 stitches, M1 (just like I did above).  Knit to the end, M1.

At this point, I like to put the stitches on double points if you been using a circular needle or arrange them on your double points with 28 stitches on each needle.  You'll be doing two decreases on each needle.

You'll repeat each direction all the way around, twice on each neele.

Round 1--Knit 12, Knit 2 together. (26 stitches on each needle)
Round 2--Knit
Round 3--Knit 11, Knit 2 together.  (24 stitches on each needle)
Round 4--Knit
Round 5--Knit 10, Knit 2 together.  (22 stitches on each needle)
Round 6--Knit
Round 7--Knit 9, Knit 2 together.  (20 stitches on each needle)
Round 8--Knit
Round 9--Knit 8, Knit 2 together.  (18 stitches on each needle)
Round 10--Knit
Round 11--Knit 7, Knit 2 together.  (16 stitches on each needle)
Round 12--Knit 6, Knit 2 together.  (14 stitches on each needle)
Round 13--Knit 5, Knit 2 together.  (12 stitches on each needle)
Round 14--Knit 4, Knit 2 together.  (10 stitches on each needle)
Round 15--Knit 3, Knit 2 together.  (8 stitches on each needle)
Round 16--Knit 2, Knit 2 together.  (6 stitches on each needle)
Round 17--Knit 1, Knit 2 together.  (4 stitches on each needle)
Round 18--Knit 2 together.  (2 stitches on each needle)

Just about done now.

Cut your yarn leaving a nice long tail.  Thread it onto a blunt needle and pull it trough the eight remaining stitches.  Go around twice, leaving the stitches on the needle so you have a nice sturdy end.

Now pull the needles out, pull your tail in nice and tight and sew it in.

 Take a moment to admire how cute this hat is .

Now find 20 little buttons for the eyes.  Trust me on this one.  You need 20 buttons.  Owls have two eyes.  This was brick wall number three.  I failed to realize that and had only gotten 10 buttons.  My hat was done as a blizzard began to fly.  Seemed like a bad idea to drive to Central Avenue with 20 inches of snow falling and Brian suggested that perhaps I had lost my mind so I had to wait a week to do my buttons.

Here's a tip to get your buttons to stay on nice and snug.  Thread your needle with your chosen thread and tie and overhand not with the two ends.  You'll have doubled your thread.  Now pull the needle through the purls for the eyes at the top of the top purl bump.  Go in the top hole on the needle and out the bottom hole of the needle.  While it is all nice and loose, push the needle back through the fabric just bellow the same purl bump.  Flip it over, pull it tight and tie it off twice.  Your button will now be placed just where you want it.  Now go back through the button holes two or three times and then tie the ends off again at least twice, preferably three times and trim your thread.  It took me until the second hat to figure this technique out.  The first time, I was sewing it on like I would on a cloth shirt and it was a pain in the a** keeping the button straight and nice and tight.  This worked like a charm.

Once the buttons are on, give it a good dunk.  I love Soak and/or Euclan.  Dunk it, let it sit for a bit and, bang zoom, you have a nice clean hat without any rinsing.  If you don't have any, just use a drop or two or gentle soap.  Don't run water directly on it to rinse it.  Fill the bowl and dunk it again.  Repeat until the soap is out.  Now you can either roll it in a towel and stand on it to get some of the water out or use your salad spinner (which I find much more effective.)  Pat it out nicely and put it somewhere warm (and away from the cat) to dry.

Check your buttons to make sure they are nice and tight and there you have it.

Own It

This post will be short, sweet and to the point.

I have read a tremendous amount from really thoughtful, smart people on both sides of the conversation about race.  Among them, I have only read one person who suggested any action points but all of them were external (hang a sign, vote, etc.)

I've been thinking about this for a while and I think we are missing the point.  All of this is internal so we need to start inside ourselves.  For what it's worth, here are my commitments to make some real change around race.

1.   I will stop referring to people by their race.  How many times have you had this conversation?  I know I've had it a million times.  "Hey, do you know Dave?", "Dave who?". "I don't know his last name.  He's the black guy."  I live in Yonkers.  Referring to a man as a black guy is a meaningless description.  I am saying nothing about Dave that would cause another person to recognize him by simply saying he is black.  There are tens of thousands of "black guys" in Yonkers.  In this conversation I am giving the other person completely useless information and I am choosing to describe Dave with something that is simply not relevant.  I am doing them both a disservice.  Unless I can justify a solid argument for describing someone by their race, I will no longer do it. 

2.  I will be a bigger dick than than the person who is a racist.  My mind has been blown by the number of times I have listened to people spew the most hateful shit and no one says a thing.  At a local bar a few years ago, a woman who is considered a bit of a "character" was letting loose with some really bad racist rants at the bar.  No one batted an eyelash.  I finally asked her to stop.  She responded by saying "Oh Karen, what are you going to do, call me a fascist?"  I simply told her that, no, I didn't actually believe that she knew what being a fascist was and that she was simply a bigot. 

Suddenly the bar went silent.  Suddenly I was the asshole who was "starting something".  Too bad.  I will do this more often.

3.   I will make a conscious effort to share my privilege.  I am white.  I know I have it easy. But it is simply an accident of birth.  Perhaps being a white male trumps my white femaleness but I still have a significant amount of power.  So I will make sure that I am holding myself to the highest standards of fairness. 

It is very easy for me to say that I am not a racist.  And I believe that I am not.  But I have really bad habits.  And it is my responsibility to own it.  I am grateful that the life that I have chosen to live and the career path that I have chosen has allowed me to experience so many different people.  But the fact that I have used the phrase "black friends" bothers me.  I can do better than this.  And so can you. 

Stop talking about racism and start doing something about this--from the inside out.

Halloween (A Little Late)

I love Halloween.  I've never been very good at costumes so it wasn't really about dressing up for me.  There was a bad incident when I was about 12 when I decided to dress up as Medusa.  I had a crazy wig, some sort of toga and a pair of really slippery little weird wicker slippers.  Yes, I said wicker.  Yes, I said slippery.  Yes, I said weird wig.  Yes, I said toga.  Yes, I landed flat on my can running on wet leaves.  And why the hell didn't anyone stop me.  I could have just been a ghost and not be still taking crap from my sister about that epic wipe out.

But today I want to tell you two really good Halloween stories. 

When I was very little--maybe 4 or 5--my mother dressed me up as a black cat for Halloween.  I had on a black leotard, black tights, black ballet slippers and a tail that my mom made from a black stocking, some cotton and an unbent wire coat hanger.  But the best part of the costume was my mask.  It just covered my eyes and it came up to what I believed were very dramatic points at the corners.  I thought it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. 

And I lost it.

About half way through trick or treating (we lived in a really good apartment building for trick or treating), I realized I didn't have my mask on any more.  It wasn't in my candy bag and I couldn't find it anywhere.  Naturally, I started crying.  And naturally, I kept on trick or treating.  I knocked on every door--weeping--and every mom handing out candy I asked my why I was crying.  And I had to explain to them through my sobs that I had lost my mask and now no one would know that I was a black cat.  And they all laughed at me.  LAUGHED!!!

And then we got to the last apartment at the end of the first floor and my poor little heart just broke.  The mom there was my favorite.  She was so pretty and so nice and I just adored her.  She had the perfect pageboy hairdo which she achieved by pulling it up in a really high pony tail and rolling it onto one huge curler (which I still do to try to calm my hair down), she had two kids who were a little older than me but were really, really nice and she had a rug that had games on it.  I'm not sure what her husband did for a living but I do know that somehow we all got really nice, cozy bathrobes from him.  And now my costume was ruined and I couldn't stop crying and I just couldn't get my act together.

But I wasn't giving up on the trick or treating so I rang the bell and there she was.  With a big bowl of candy.  And the perfect pageboy.  She bent down to eye level and asked me why I was crying and I managed to choke out my tail of woe.  And she put the candy bowl down, moved my mask from the top of my head back onto my face, gave me a little kiss and sent me on my way.

Obviously, more than 40 years later, I have never gotten over this.  Ever.  It is the first time I remember an actual act of kindness.  Especially since all of the other moms clearly saw my mask on my head which would explain why they found it funny.

So I try to make Halloween fun at my house.  I answer the door with a meat cleaver.  I pretend I'm going to give them tea bags (and you will be amazed at how many kids are okay with that).  I talk to the kids and their parents and look forward to catching up with them every year.  There are several families who know that they can use the bathroom or grab a soda or bottle of water for a needy kid at my house.

Last year, one of my neighbors came with her daughter and grandkids and one of the little boys and I had a great conversation about Take 5 candy bars.  If you don't know about them, go out and get yourself some.  They are awesome. 

This year, we had a whopping four groups of trick or treaters come to our door.  I was disappointed and almost left to go to Pat (of the tomatoes) house where she gets tons of them.  And then the doorbell rang.  And it was the kid from last year with his family.  And he was so excited.  He told me how glad he was that I was home and that he had been telling his friends at school about the lady who taught him about Take 5 bars.  I had Twizzlers this year but I broke out the private stash for this kid. 

I really hope that he remembers me as an adult as happily as I remember the woman at the end of the hall and that he grows up to have the best Halloween house. 

To Swatch or Not to Swatch

Lately I've been swatching.  Actually, I've been swatching a lot.  There are a few reasons for this.

First, my friend BadCat's book New Vintage Lace has arrived in a store near you.  The book is full of beautiful patterns but the real value in it is the story of her process.  Next, I have some wonderful yarns that I have no idea what they're going to do once they're knit.  So between the book and the fibers, the stars have aligned for a whole lot of swatching.  By the way, I do consider starting a sweater sleeve as the most useful type of swatch there is.  

I've had a cone (or two) of  a very wooly heavy fingering-ish weight yarn that I bought in Vermont at Six Loose Ladies.  It's a local yarn from somewhere in Ascutney.  I was drawn to it by the color--it's a really pretty tweedy raspberry--but once I saw where it was from, I knew it had to come home with me.  I have a good friend who is from a small town near Ascutney and I learned how to ski many years ago at Mt. Ascutney.  Such happy memories had to join my stash.  

I've been looking at it for a while trying to figure out what to do with it and finally settled on a Honey Cowl.    So I swatched.  I cast on with US 8 needles and then gave it a really good wash.

I love the way it looks and the squishiness of it but have been concerned that it may too scratchy.  I am not particularly sensitive to wool's itchiness so I think it's okay but to make sure I have been carrying the swatch around with me and rubbing it on my cheek or wrist every chance I get.  I may just go for it.  Or not.  Who knows?  I'm fickle.

I've also been trying to get my studio dining room table organized.  This pile of sock yarn ends will be wound and bagged as soon as I finish this post.  There's something so satisfying about tidy little buns of yarn.

 

There are suddenly lots of babies in the wind here in the Y.O. so once these are in order, they'll become little socks to keep tiny toes cozy and warm

 

Very Soxy

It's too hot to knit anything but socks.  I have this lovely pile of single socks that has been staring at me, tears of loneliness running down their pretty little gussets.  But alas, they are all still single.

Yes, the second sock for all of them on are on the needles and are all getting done but this one in particular needs to be finished. 

It's my basic sock pattern.  Nothing fancy at all, just a good solid sock that I think will look particularly nice with clogs.  I swear to you the ball band was here 10 seconds ago.  (I just actually noticed that you can see the ball band in the upper right hand corner of the picture.  Proof!)  I got up to get something to drink and now it's gone.  Dagnabit!

This one in particular needs to get off the needles fast because those needles need to start knitting on this.

Isn't she a beauty?  It's Colinette Jitterbug in the Lichen 76 colorway. I'm in love with it.

I'm also in love with those Signature needles that my mother bought me for Christmas.  Really, how did I ever live without them?  Oh wait, I know.  I had to pay for things like food and the mortgage.  They are so shiny and pretty, not to mention their lethal points.  I call them my knitting blades.  

All of these are going into a bag for my sister.  (It's too hot to wear them right now.) A few years back I knit her a pair of socks and it seems I've created a monster.  Really, though, there are far worse things that could happen.  I like to knit socks, she likes to wear the socks that I knit.  I see it as a win/win situation.  And if I stock pile them, I get to give her a pile of them which I think will be very pretty.

As an added bonus, she and I have very different palettes.  She wears a lot of orange, yellow and lime green.  Even her purples and blues are somehow more on the autumn side.  I, on the other hand, go for very saturated, clear colors.  Just wait till you see the yarn I got to make myself a pair of socks--it's practically breathing it is so rich.  But that little skein is also waiting for the Signature needles so I'm not going to torture myself.

I think I'll go wind that Colinette to take the edge off.

Happy Interdependence Day--A Day Late

A few years back, I declared July 5th Interdependence Day.  Although I did celebrate, I never actually got around to posting about it.  So here we go!

Here's what I am think this year for my Interdependence Day resolution (you all make those, right?).   We all need to to stop hiding our light.  I was raised Catholic.  Although I rarely practice anymore, I am still pretty much in line with the basic dogma.  I've just had big problems with the administration and the interpretation of that dogma.  Lately I've been thinking about the whole "don't tell anyone about your good deeds" thing and I have decided to cry bullshit on it. 

We must be kind to each other and we absolutely must tell other people about it.  We have to sing it to the mountaintops and act as we would like others to act toward us.  And everyone else should see us do it--not to make them feel bad or for us to feel that we are somehow better--but to show people what the lingering consequences are of kindness.  Our world as individuals becomes a better place when we are kind and our society cannot exist without the experience of individuals. 

So go out.  Do something nice.  Tell people what you did. Repeat.  Oh, and by the way, when people start doing kind things for you (which I am quite certain that they already have, we've just been programmed not to notice it) make sure you sing their song loud and proud as well.

Here are 10 easy things to do that won't cost you anything (or much):

1.  Hold the door.
2.  Hold the elevator (that's a biggie for me).
3.  Greet people, even strangers, when you see them. 
4.  Beep and wave when you pass a friend (or even an acquaintance) on the street.
5.  Compliment a stranger (but only if it is genuine).
6.  Talk to a child.  And I mean really talk.  Ask them what their favorite book is.  Show them something cool.  Whatever.  Don't just tell them their cute.  Cute fades.  Nice doesn't.
7.  Change the litter box without having to be told 20 times (maybe that's just me).
8.  Give blood.  It's so easy and they give you cookies when you are done.
9.  Give up your seat on the bus or train for someone who needs it.  Or let someone get into your lane at a toll.
10.  The next time you're grabbing a cup of coffee at the deli, and you have an extra buck, ask the counter person to charge you for two.  Then tell them that is up to them to decide who gets a free cup of coffee. 

I'm sure you can come up with dozens more. 

Go!  Now!  Shine your light!

P.S.  Number 11 was going to be "Teach someone to knit".

Merry Christmas (and here's why)

Merry Christmas to all!! 

I love Christmas for a lot of reasons.  Has it become totally commercialized?  Well, I would say yes and no to that question.  If I hear one more newscaster talk about the "short holiday shopping season this year" one more time, I swear I'm going to lose my eggnog.  Let's make it clear here that there is no rule that says you can only holiday shop after Thanksgiving.  None.  In reality, there is no such thing as a holiday shopping season.  There is simply a holiday season.  And let's not forget that it includes quite a few holidays.

But right now, I'm talking about Christmas. 

One of the reasons that I love Christmas is that you can celebrate it for so many reasons.

First, there is a religious Christmas.  Celebrating the birth of Christ and, therefore, the birth of Christianity.   It's a big religion followed my millions (perhaps billions) of people worldwide.  And to all of you, I say Merry Christmas.

Then there is historic Christmas.  A lot of people who don't follow the Christian faith, still find a lot of good in Christ as a purely historic figure.  There's a lot to be said for this.  He seemed like a nice guy.  His message to the world was basically "be nice".   Kind of hard to argue with that.  And to all of you who celebrate this, I say Merry Christmas.

Then there is the purely secular Christmas.  There are also quite a few people who do not follow the Christian faith and who aren't at all interested in a guy who lived thousands of years ago.  Yet the idea of the holiday--"Peace on earth, good will to all"--resonates with them and they celebrate it.  To all of you, I say Merry Christmas. 

To everyone who is left, I still say Merry Christmas.  Because I am celebrating it!!  And I believe in sharing celebrations with those around me. You can simply tell me to have a nice day.  I'm totally cool with that.

P.S.  And to all, I ask only one thing in return.  Please don't say or use Xmas.  You don't do "Xukah" or "IndepenX Day".  Don't do it to Christmas.

If Grey Gardens Was About A Car

Anyone who as ever been in my car knows that there is a significant amount of flotsam and jetsam that accompanies me wherever I go.  Empty (or sometimes not so empty) Diet Coke cans.  A huge assortment of grocery store bags.  Sweaters.  Yarn.  The occassional strategically placed double point needle.

It's a mess.

Yesterday we had our big "all staff" day at work which just added to the chaos in Ruby (that's my car's name).  Along with the normal detritus in the back seat there was a huge black garbage bags with about 70 t-shirts in it.  On top of that was my shopping cart.  Because how do you schlep a big bag of t-shirts without a shopping cart?

On the way home I thought it would be a good idea to stop at Home Depot and pick up a plastic shelving unit for the storage locker in the basement that all of Brian's tools belong in.  So that was on top of the bag of tshirts and the shopping cart.

Since it was Friday, I had to stop and pick up wine on the way home.  I was happily tootling along with absolutely no ability to see out my back window or use the passengers side mirror when all of a sudden, out of the blue, the car starting shaking.  For a hot second I was sure that that the aliens were taking me (again).

It was just a flat tire.  And I was right around the corner from a gas station so I--slowly--worked my way over there.  For future reference, 10 past 5 on a Friday is not a good time to show up at a gas station with a flat tire.  There was only one mechanic still there and he was (I swear to God) already in his car.  He started to drive away but must have gone to Catholic school so he came back.

And he was pissed.

He said back up over there.  So I did.  Then he hollered at me because I almost hit the cones which I couldn't see (see above for details).   He asked if I had a spare which, of course, I did.

And then I remembered.  Have you ever read the book The Shining (it's not in the movie).  There's a whole thing at the end about remembering to "dump the boiler" and then the whole place blows sky high.  My remembering was not quite so dramatic.  I just remembered that there was an air conditioner in my trunk.

Yup.  An air conditioner.

Cranky young mechanic (righfully so) hauled the AC out of the trunk and got the spare.

Then he put it back.  Now, me being me and having a huge fear of being undercaffinated, had a 12 pack of soda in the trunk.  Which he hit with the AC.  Which singled out one particularly delicate can of soda.

Which blew up in his face.  Which made me start laughing insanely.

And that's when I realized that I should just put my bra on over my shirt, slap a turban on my head and call myself Little Edie.  Did I mention that I was already wearing a big huge plastic sequined bow ring and that half of my underwire was buried in the garbage in the ladies room at Concordia College (because you don't leave random underwires on the top of the garbage to freak other people out)?  And wearing a bra with only one underwire is the best way to end up walking in circles.  

But I digress.

Dude changed my tire and didn't charge me for it. 






P.S.  About the mention of being taken by aliens again--I don't mean that I was taken.  It's just that on more than occassion, I have thought I was being taken by aliens.  I think I watched too many alien movies when I was a kid.

There Is No Such Thing

Let's make on thing perfectly clear here.  There is no such thing as gay marriage.

It is just marriage. 

And here in the U.S. it is quite simply a contractual agreement that two consenting adults enter into.  That's it.  And the rules say that you can't discriminate against someone in a contractual agreement.  Done. 

The contractual agreement has nothing to do with whether or not you love each other or whether or not you are sexually attracted to each other.  It is an agreement that says you and I will share responsibilities for each other.  It's actually quite nice in its simplicity.  At its basest, "If you throw up, I will hold your hair back. If I throw up, you will hold mine."

Not for nothing, you might think that by saying "I am a straight person who supports gay marriage" you are helping the cause but I really don't think you are.  You are perpetuating the myth that there is something different in the relationships that gay people have versus their straight counterparts.  Better to say "I'm a human being and I like the idea that people want to take legal responsibility for each other."  

And guess what, I think it's great when people who get married actually love each other and are sexually attracted to each other.  The lucky ones are. 

Baking Day

Yeah, I know, this is supposed to be more of a knitting blog but I'm going to go with the cooking thing again.  Because today is Irish Soda Bread baking day here at Chez Chaos.

Unlike pizza, there is such a thing as bad Soda Bread.  If it is dry and mealy you don't have to eat it just because it is March.  It's bad. Don't do it.  No matter how much butter you put on it, it's still going to suck.

Unless you use both of the b words.  Then it will rock.

Hmm...I hear your brains churning away.  What could those b words be??

Butter and buttermilk.  (And really, what could be better than butter and another word that starts with butter.)

I've been using the recipe from the Silver Palate New Basics Cookbook (if you don't own it, buy it--it's worth every penny) with a tiny modification.

Here's how it works.

Before you do anything, take a stick of unsalted butter out of the fridge and let it come to room temperature.

When it is soft, put two tablespoons of it in the microwave for a minute to melt.  Let it cool to just about room temperature.

Take your round cake pan (about 8 1/2 inches) and trace it onto a piece of wax paper.  Now smear two more tablespoons of butter onto the bottom and sides of the pan (it will seem like a lot).  Put the circle on top of the butter on the bottom of the pan.

Next sift together 3 cups unbleached all purpose flour, 3/4 cup granulated sugar, 1 1/2 teaspoons salt, 1 teaspoon baking soda and 1 tablespoon baking powder.

Add 3 generous handfuls of raisins to the flour mixture and toss to coat.

In a separate bowl beat 2 large eggs.  Add in 1 3/4 cup of buttermilk and the melted butter.  Whisk it all together.

Pour the liquid into the dry and add 1 tablespoon caraway seeds or more if really love them.  Mix it all together with your wooden spoon until it just comes together.  Don't get crazy but make sure that all the flour is mixed in.

Dump it (when you do this you will understand why dump is the correct word here) into the prepared pan and smooth it out a bit.  Dot the top with 2 more tablespoons of butter. 

It will look like this.

Bake it at 350 degrees for an hour.  I always put it on a sheet pan because if you don't you'll end up with butter on the bottom of your oven and that's just no fun.  And it doesn't smell too great either.  Turn it around half way through baking and start checking it at about 50 minutes. 

By the time it's done the house will smell divine and the neighbors will be banging on your door with their teacups.

You Still Gotta Eat

I'm not going to get into details here but suffice it to say, I would like to remind an old friend that along with the horrible things that happen in life, there are many joyful things as well.  For me, cooking a good hearty meal for some good hearty friends makes me ridiculously happy.

As I am not there to cook for him today, I'm giving him this to cook for himself in the hope that it is a little bit of blue sky on a very gloomy day.

Karen's Sauce

First you get your big pot.  I have a 5 quart dutch oven which works just great.  Add about 1 1/2 teaspoons of olive oil and put it over a medium flame. 

While the oil heats up season six bone in, skin on chicken thighs with salt and pepper.  Put the first three in the pot, skin down and raise the flame to medium high.  When the skin is nice and brown, flip them over and brown the other side.  Once they are nice and brown, repeat this with the other three chicken thighs.  If you can find pork neck bones, brown off about 3/4 lb. of those as well.  I use the lid of the pot to hold all the already browned meat but you can certainly use a plate if you want to.

If you are making a vegetarian version, skip this first paragraph and start with about 1/4 cup of oil in your pot. 

While the meat is browning, chop up about 2 cups of onions.  No need to be exact.  Imperfection is the rule here.  Not too small, not too big.  Just chop away.  Once alll the meat is browned and of the pot, put the onions into the hot chicken fat (yeah, this shiksa cooks with schmaltz).  Give them a good stir and a good pinch of salt and get them sauteeing.

While the onions are cooking, chop up about 2 tablespoons of garlic.  Hard to say how many cloves.  Just chop away until it looks like two tablespoons.  The onions will be nice and golden and have some brown bits on them by now.  Toss in the garlic.  Stir it all up and let the garlic cook for a few minutes until it gets lightly golden.  By now your onions should be pretty soft.

Add about a cup or so of water.  I usually just use a coffee mug.  Turn the heat to high and bring it up to a boil scraping up the bits on the bottom of the pot.  Once it is boiling, turn the heat down to almost low (not quite all the way low) and let it simmer away until it all reduces into a mush that is just starting to stick to the bottom of the pot.  This will take about 15 or 20 minutes.  Stir it every so often.  For some reason, this step is key.  It does something with the fat that was left in the pot and the onions that make them melt once the sauce is ready.  Yum.

Next step--easy peasy.  Add about 1/2 a little can of tomato paste.  Stir it all up until the tomato paste melts into the onions.  Grab your coffee cup that you used for your water and fill it with cheap, fruity red wine (I like Paisano for this).  Pour a little in the pan and deglaze it again.

You're almost done!  You need three cans of tomatoes.  Your choice.  I like smooth sauce so I use one can of crushed and 2 of puree.  If you like it chunky switch out one or both puree for whole peeled tomatoes.  Just break them up with your hands as you put them (and all their juices into the pot).  Now line the three cans up, pour the rest of the wine into the first can, swirl it around and get all the leftovers off the can and then pour it into the second can.  Proceed until you have rinsed all three cans with vino.

Pour the wine into the pot.  Add a small palmful of dried oregano and a small palmful of dried basil.  I always rub the dried herbs between my palms to open up the oils.  Give it some black pepper, stir it all up and put all the meat back in the pot.  Bring the whole thing up to a boil.  Note:  If it seems really thick at this point, add a coffee cup full of water. 

Once it is boiling, turn the heat down to low and put the lid on the pot, slightly askew.  Stir it every so often and keep a nice chunk of Italian bread on the side so you can taste it as you go.  Let it simmer for about three hours.  Once it's done, take the meat out.  Toss the neck bones and shred the chicken.  You can do whatever you want with the chicken.  Sometimes I mix into baked ziti.  Sometimes I make lasagna.  Sometimes I just toss it back in the pot.  The acid from the tomatoes keeps it very moist (at least that's what I think does it) and it doesn't get dry and stringy like most boiled chicken.

Now for the meatballs.

1 1/2 pounds 80% fat chopped meat

1/2 cup seasoned breadcrumbs

1/2 cup milk

2 eggs

2 teaspoons dried onions (also called instant minced onions)

1 teaspoon worcestshire sauce

3/4 teaspoon salt

1/8 teaspoon pepper

1/4 cup grated parmesan cheese

Preheat the oven to 350.  Mix all the ingredients with your hands.  It will be a very wet mixture.  Roll it into the size meatballs you like, put them on a rimmed baking sheet and bake until done.  It depends on the size--they should feel firm when you touch them.  Or just cut one open and eat it.  It should be just barely the other side of pink.

Eat, eat, eat. 

Enjoy!

Love,

Karen

Please Sing

I just watched the Les Miserables performance on the Oscar and I was amazed by all the people who I never thought of as singers.  Actors, yes.  Singers, no.  As an aside, Russell Crowe was not one of them as my friend Kathleen dragged my sorry ass to Philadelphia once to see his band.

Many years ago I saw the architect Bill McDonough speak.  If you don't know who he is, google him.  He's pretty rockin'.  One of the things that he said that really stuck with me was that if you ask a group of kindergarteners if they can sing, they will not only all say yes but they will offer to sing you a song.  But if you go back to the same group of kids 10 years later, for the most part, they will say that they cannot sing.  His point was that somewhere along the line we were teaching children what they cannot do rather than what they can.

The performance tonight reminded me of that.  We all have the physical ability to sing but for the most part, we don't.  We talk without ever worrying about what our speaking voice sounds like but we are so very shy (unless there is alcohol involved) about singing.

Last night we went to Brian's cousin's house.  Around 9 o'clock, much to my surprise, they turned on the karaoke machine.  And everyone sang.  We sang Beatles songs and Lou Reed and everything in between.  Bob and I sang "Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me"--he was Elton John and I was George Michael just so I could say that big, loud "Ladies and Gentlemen Mr. Elton John".

Today, I couldn't stop singing.  I sang "The Witchita Line Man".  I sang "Bang Bang".  I sang AC/DC, Tanya Tucker, Kiss, and everything in between.

A long time ago at the end of a long night, I sang Amazing Grace for some friends.  I sang it with no shame and no worries.  And it was so beautiful.  A few months ago, I sang  "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" for Brian.  And he thought it was beautiful.

So lets "forget your troubles and just get happy" and just for a few minutes, sing like you are an Oscar winner.

What will you sing?

Just A Few Thoughts

I know the blog has been dark for a while.  Life has been, well, life.  I've been busy.  I have a lot to tell you but the timing just hasn't worked out.

I am so tired right now but I really needed to sit down and write some things down.  Perhaps it is my equivalent of therapy.  Or maybe this has just been the kind of week where everyone needs their voice to be heard.

I feel the need to make a list.

1.  I put up a post on facebook asking for more attention to mental illness in our country.  It is at best ignored and at worst treated as a joke.  My case in point is Charlie Sheen.  The man had an extremely public mental breakdown. It was prime fodder for late night talk shows.  If he had cancer, people would have reacted very very differently to his illness.

Many mental health advocates have spoken out about the criminalization of mental illness.  I feel like they don't understand that most of us who are raising this issue are actually on their side.  If we don't ignore it or joke about it perhaps we can actually help the people who are suffering from it.  Many get treatment but many many more go untreated.  And, much like people who are untreated for the flu or un-vaccinated for measles, there are public health consequences.

2.  You can believe whatever you want to believe but I do not--and will never--believe in a vengeful God.  People like Mike Huckabee are basically saying that God is saying "Fuck You" to humanity.  I don't know what or who God is.  I don't possess the necessary hubris to demand that my God is better than your God or that God loves me best.  But I do, quite deeply and profoundly, believe that there are things in the world that are unexplained and God is one of those.  And I believe that whatever or whoever is greater than I am would much prefer that I choose kindness and goodness rather than hatred and isolation.  If you are a letter of the law biblical believer I will respect your right to be that person.  I am not.  But the bible has led me to believe, via the concept of deadly sins, that God is not proud.

3.  Please please please keep your grief in context.  I am very sad for the families who have suffered this week.  In the spirit of bearing witness, I read the names of all those poor little children as soon as they were published.  I read every syllable slowly, with respect.  And I wept.  But I wept for the fear I feel right now.  I wept because my inability to conceive of this kind of pain is uncomfortable for me.

But know this and know it well.  Every single person who has not been directly affected by this tragecy should be weeping for the fact that we are so very lucky.

So please don't ask for my compassion right now if you are crying over the news.  I am too.  And for heavens sake don't show up in their neighborhood or at their funerals if you don't belong there.  You will be taking a parking space from someone who has lost a family member or friend.  And those people should not have to walk one extra step because you needed to get in their way.

4.  I'm going to do the multiple please thing again.  Please please please please please start compromising.  I sent a letter to the NRA today offering to compromise with them.  I asked my Congresswoman to be a voice for compromise in our government.   For heavens sake, we've heard more than enough about the second ammendment this week.  Let's please please please talk about the first amendment and exercise our right to freedom of speech and talk about this, work things out and find a common ground.  Whenever I have a conflict at work, I tell my employees that it is highly unlikely that anyone will get their own way but it is also highly likely that everyone will end up happy enough.  Can't we work on that on a bigger level?

Love,

Karen

Step Right Up

Mitt Romney is a carny.

Now before anyone wants to jump down my throat and argue across party lines or tell me I don't know what I am talking about, let me give you some information.  I am the daughter of a carny so I know one when I see one.  This has nothing to do with gender, age, race or political alliance.  It has to do with the fact that the man could have a brilliant career on the side show circuit.

See here's what any good carny will tell you is the key to a successful pitch--a good bally and then distract the marks!  Yes sir, yes sir, step right up and see the giant!  Nine feet ten inches tall (never mind that the guy is six foot six).  Then they'll be pointing out the fine quality stuffed bears on the top shelf that you could win--yessiree!--with their right hand while they are setting the rig on the game with their left foot.   Engage the mark with enthusiasm and promises and then distract them so you can set them up and send them home with empty pockets.

And here's what Mitt Romney did.

In the first debate he went after PBS.  And then for good measure threw in Big Bird.  It's a brilliant bally!  Take something that you know the liberals will flip their wigs over (public television) and throw in an icon.  Now watch the marks tripping over themselves to get onto facebook and kvetch about it.

The reality of this is that the federal government is not a major source of funding for PBS.  It is however, a major source for Corporation for Public Broadcasting.  Well, major for them.  In terms of annual federal spending the amount they get is a blip.  And Big Bird doesn't work for either of them.  He works for Sesame Street.  Granted they are all connected but please don't suggest to me that if public broadcasting disappeared tomorrow, that Nickelodeon wouldn't jump on the chance to syndicate Sesame Street.  And they would make a boat load of money on it.

The internet was on fire!!!!  No one was talking about any of the issues.  No siree Bob!  It was all about Big Bird.  No conversations on the monetary value of pre-school preparatory education that shows like Sesame Street provide.  How many children, I wonder, have started school already knowing their numbers, their letters and having a good running start on learning how to read because of Sesame Street.  An analysis of the actual value of federal dollars spent is the real point.  Big Bird is a puppet--he'll be fine.

Distraction at its finest.

And last night's show was even better.  Distract distract distract!  "I have binders full of women" is the debate equivalent of "Come see the living headless body!"  It's a mirror trick.  There is no such thing as a living headless body.  And so far, there is no such thing as any significant female presence in the Romney campaign or cabinet planning.  It's a trick.  A sleight of hand.  And it's all anyone can talk about today.  Truth be told, I'm having a really hard time stopping myself from making binder jokes.  It's really fun!

Here's the part where this gets political.  I blame the Republican Party for building this midway.  In 2008, the Palin family was trotted out like the Tiny Tim and Miss Vicky of the election. At the time, I believed that the Palin's were there so the party could have a scapegoat when they lost.  But it turned out, the Palins fired the country up.  The result--an even larger gap between the Democrats and the Republicans.  The rhetoric of the past four years has been outstanding.  From the birthers to the Tea Party and everything in between the lack of focus on real issues and real accountability has been profound.  And the party seems to have decided that "Step Right Up" is the new campaign slogan.  And this year we are getting an even bigger and better show.

Our current administration did not start the bailouts but I have lost count of the number of times that President Obama has been blamed for them.  The wars were already going full force.  The economy was already in the crapper.  I could go on but I won't.  

What we got from the Republican Party was a series of sideshows.   So often information was either misleading (the famous man eating chicken gag) or patently false (the girl into a gorilla gag).  And Governor Romney, who claims to be an intelligent man, allowed himself to become the pitch man for this hot mess.

Which is the main reason why I don't like him.  He believes that we are all willing marks who will fall for any trick or gag that they come up with.  It's insulting, it's dangerous and it reeks of hubris.

I am proud to be categorized as a liberal based on my values and my beliefs (actually, my uncle called me a screaming pinko liberal when I was in seventh grade but that's a story for another day).  A huge part of my value system is respect for other people's opinions, values and beliefs unless I find them illegal, hateful or immoral.  For most conservatives, that is not the case.  They are simply good people who see the world differently than I do.  And I am fine with that.  I like living in a country where we are all allowed to be different and to share our differences. 

As proud as I am of being a liberal, I am equally proud of the people who share my values of acceptance, mutual intelligence, discourse and tolerance regardless of their politics.  I wish our political system would do the same.

Dodge Ball

I have always hated the game dodge ball.  As a matter of fact, I used to do my best to get myself intentionally knocked out of play early on in the game so I wouldn't have to deal with it at all.  I can state with extreme confidence that I suck at any kind of sport (except volley ball which I am oddly and freakishly good at) but I can't think of another sport that I actively loathe as much as dodge ball. 

Actually, I think that more specifically, I am bad at any sport that involves catching a ball.  For whatever reason, I always shy away from it and end up getting slammed with the ball.  Taking into consideration the fact that the entire point of dodge ball is to slam your opponent with the ball, it was really a double whammy for me during those torturous years when I was forced to play.   Those fabulous Catholic school gym uniforms were long enough to be totally uncool yet short enough to leave a good long stretch of bare, naked, white thigh just begging to be slammed into with a red rubber ball.  And everyone knows there is nothing prettier than having that star pattern from the ball burned into your tender young flesh. 

Right now I have a motherless whore of a cold that I am calling the Great Dodge Ball Cold of 2012.  Because I didn't catch it.  It was thrown at me and slammed me a good one.   Much like that one kid in the class who was really good at dodge ball, I've been dancing around happily while those around me have been dropping like flies.  The hubris!  Yesterday I got dropped by a big red star patterned rubber ball of a germ and I am paying the price.

So I've made a few new rules that we will all have to live by (you all do live by my rules already don't you?).

1.  I don't care how much you love him.  You have to pay attention and remember not to kiss the man with the cold.  At least don't kiss him on the lips. 

2.  If you feel too crappy to get up and find that lace shawl you are knitting do not even consider pushing yourself to do it.  You will screw up and you may cry.  And let's be honest here.  You already look awful.  Crying is not going to help.  Opt for a plain sock.  You should always have one of those within arms reach anyway and if you fall asleep halfway through a row it won't matter.

3.  Do not--under any circumstances--let go of the black car key on the black clicker in a purse with a black lining that is filled with black yarn.   You might as well just lay down on the ground right where you are because you are not going to find that key any time soon.

4.  A hot toddy really will make you feel better.

5.  Two hot toddies will put you right to sleep.

6.  WARNING WARNING WARNING Three hot toddies will make you feel even worse. 

I'm going to lay on the couch until I feel better. Which right now feels like that may be never.  But at least I don't groan like someone else who is on the couch right now.  I have the courtesy to suffer in silence.

Cluster F&%k

I'm working on a really pretty piece of knitting.  The pattern is amazing, the yarn is beyond gorgeous and I am having such fun just tootling along on it.

Until row 58.

Suffice it to say that row 58 can suck it.  Big time.  In the very middle of the row the instructions say this:

Purl 7 together leaving them on the needle.
Yarn over and then purl the same 7 together again.
Repeat this 3 times.

Do you have any idea how effing hard that is!!!!!!!!!!

Earlier I had emailed the designer to ask her if the cluster was part of the engineering of the lace pattern or if it was there just to be pretty.   It was really a curiosity--not my inner child screaming please don't make me do this!!   She very kindly answered quickly that it was just for show and I could skip it if I wanted to.  Please note that I say she said it "kindly".  Not sarcastically or smarmily.

My answer to that was "oh yeah--IT'S BEEN BROUGHT".  There was no way I wasn't doing the stupid cluster now.

At this time, I would like to share with you the email that I sent to the group for this project::

So I tried the cluster. And then I tried it again. And again. And again. I was starting to feel like Liz Taylor going back to Richard Burton even though I knew it wasn't going to work but I kept on trying.

Then I got a really small needle and a really small crochet hook and I actually succeeded in creating a cluster. And it was so tight the yarn was actually screaming! Tight like my Aunt Geraldine at an afternoon wedding. Tight like Jordache jeans in 1983. Tight like Richard Burton that last time he married Liz.

So I ripped it out. And I swore. The nicest thing I said was "motherless whore". I won't get into where it went from there because it's pretty embarrassing. Brian actually took the knitting away from me and sent me to bed with a glass of wine and a cheap mystery novel.

I avoided my knitting this morning. I actually vacuumed instead of knitting. I went to work and pretended that it wasn't sitting at home mocking me. By the way, at this point I would like to thank all of you who posted pictures of your gorgeously and perfectly executed clusters. I have now forgiven all of you for your fabulous talents but last night I was googling all of you and planning out a road trip that involved a serious set of double point needles and a producer from "48 Hours". I had murder on my mind and fire in my eyes and not a single one of you were safe.

Until I realized that I could totally reverse engineer the whole thing. I got a darning needle and Brian's big yellow work light and did the whole cluster backwards and it worked like a charm. Took a minute to get my groove on while I was doing it and I had to apologize for barking at Brian "can you please shut up because I think it's really obvious that I am purling 7 stitches together backwards to make this cluster stitch and I can't do it if you keep talking to me and by the way talking with your hands right in front of the huge bright light that I brought over to help me with this is also really not helping because the fact that you can make a shadow puppet of a bunny rabbit talking to a chicken does not help me get all these stitches to do what I want to without calling them a motherless whore yet again".

Yeah--it was that kind of fun.  And I had to do the little bastard again on row 78.

Which actually worked out just fine because I used my totally cock-a-mamie backwards method and I loved it.

First I put the 7 stitches on a smaller double point.

Yes my double point is a little bit bent.  I occasionally have the claw of death when I'm trying to fiddle with something and I have no problem forcing my will on my needles.

Then take the working yarn and thread a loop through the eye of a blunt darning needle.

Instead of bringing the working knitting needle to the yarn, I brought the yarn to the working needle.  Slide the darner along the stitches on the double point and place the loop onto your working needle.  Yarn over and do it again and SHAZAAM!!!  before you know it you have a pretty little cluster.

P.S.  I know my photos suck but the light wasn't good and it been sitting around waiting to be photographed for so long that I finally just sucked it up and did the best my little camera could do.

Today

I woke up this morning thinking of this poem.  It's my favorite poem because it speaks so beautifully of loss.  And yet, it makes me always covet, rather than mourn, the things that are gone.  And it always makes me remember the things that others are still experiencing that have become a part of my past. I find a deep and profound beauty in seeing someone experience magic while knowing that eventually it will become mundane.

So today, I decided that I just wanted normal back.   Whatever that means.  I was going to reclaim my past.

This is my normal.

We get up very early in the morning.  Actually, I should rephrase that--I get up very early in the morning.  And then I spend a half an hour waking my sweetie up.  And he bitches about it.  And that's just fine because it's our normal morning.

We stop at the corner store and he runs in and gets a bagel or a sandwich or a roll.  It doesn't really matter.  Suddenly the car smells like coffee and the man in the seat next to me gives me bites while I drive.

Driving at dawn here in the Y.O. will take your breath away.  You come over the tops of really high hills only to be greeted by the most amazing dawn light that you've ever seen.  This time of year it is golden (it will turn bluer and bluer until we reach the deepest of winter) and it takes my breathe away. 

We shoot down the east side of Manhattan.  I have the alarms on my phone set to make sure that we are on time.  From 106th Street to the job site is (at the most) 12 minutes.  I do that math.  I count the minutes to make sure we are on time. 

Around 6:20 the phone starts to ring and I start calling people into work. Brian helps. He answers the phone and he calls people back and he is just terrific. 

Just past 15th Street there is a hill in the right lane and if you hit it just right and you go fast enough it's like a roller coaster.  I hit it just right and give a very quiet "woo hoo".  Brian always laughs a little bit at me when I do it but I think he likes it.

I drop him off at the job and I always check to be sure that the two grey haired guys (turns out they are ceiling guys) are still standing outside drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes.  If they are there, then we are on time.  This morning, the younger one had gotten a hair cut.

And then I turn around and go home.

The sun is always blinding by now and the traffic gets thicker and thicker but it's all on the other side of the FDR so I breeze up the river.  I try to ride in the right line so it feels a little bit like I'm in a boat.

Over the Willis Avenue Bridge and there is this stunningly beautiful billboard.  In all shades of orange it says "GRATITUDE". 
 And I started crying.

I didn't cry a lot.  I got home and did my little bits of housework and took a shower and left for work.  I had the car radio on and was listening to the news and the children's choir start singing the national anthem and I lost it.

I'm a sucker for the national anthem (actually--any national anthem--it doesn't have to be ours) on a good day.  But, man, if you give me children singing like angels on September 11th you might as well just kick me in the shins.  I was weeping.

I tidied up, got to work, and did my morning check.  And the Yarn Harlot had this.    Scroll down to the entry about the wedding flash mob.  Remember John? The guy who died?  He loved a flash mob.  So I lost it again. 

My day that was supposed to be about normal had beaten me down and become all about loss and grief.  Turns out that I don't actually have as much control as I think I have. 

I always really hate a column or blog post that ends with some sort of pithy phrase so please accept my apologies now.

I'm still trying that figure out what the gratitude sign wanted me to do.  I think I know but I do wish that it given me more specific instructions.

I Can't Believe It's Not aFull Moon

Because I'm usually only this annoyed when the moon is full.

So in the spirit of community and sharing, let me tell you some of the things that pissed me off today:

1.  The Tree that Dripped Sap on My Windshield.  Okay tree, let's talk.  You dripped sap on my windshield.  You bitch!  You knew what you were doing.  You knew it wouldn't come off.  You knew that as soon as it started to rain on the FDR Drive at 5 am it would turn into superglue and I wouldn't be able to see a damn thing.  You better be on the lookout for me tree because I'm really seriously thinking about chopping you down.  Watch your back tree because, yeah, I'm looking at you.

2.  Pretending that it's only the Republicans who treat women like shit and act like we're stupid.  Umm, okay Bic, did you really think that marketing a ball point pen for women was a good idea.  Unless it doubles as a tampon or comes with three speeds, it's just a pen.   A pen.  Really?  For women?  Good God, I don't even know where to go with this.  And can someone explain to me why the Cinnamon Toast Crunch commercial starts with the phrase "okay ladies".  It's cartoon cinnamon squares eating each other in a bowl of milk.  What the fuck does that have to with women.  And these aren't even the overt sexist things that happen every day.  Women--can we please stand up and say enough!!!!! Don't act surprised when your rights are taken away when you give them up in a thousand tiny ways every day.  (You can thank me later for stopping now and keeping this relatively clean because I can go off on this shit for days.)


3.   Note to everyone in the world--I couldn't find my shoes is not an excuse for being 2 1/2 hours late for work.  Ever.  And if you really really can't find your shoes, you might want to think about calling.  Just sayin'. 

4.  Rick Santorum.  Dude just irks the living shit out of me.  The tree from number 1 has a Rick Santorum face on it.  And a sweater vest.

5.  Don't touch my knitting with chocolate on your fingers.  EVER!!!!!!

6.  Having to put ice in my wine because SOMEONE (okay me) forgot to put it in the fridge.  If I wanted water in my wine I would just go to church.

7.  If you can't loosen up enough to accept the fact that the movie Ted is really funny, you should probably go find a retreat house somewhere and spend some time meditating on the fact that you really need to lighten up.  I've done it and it's the only thing that stopped me from saying "lighten the fuck up" instead of just "lighten up".  Ohm.

8.  I'm am absolutely rip shit pissed at the barometic pressure and the goddamned butterfly that flapped its wings in China and is now causing another hurricane to slam head on into New Orleans.  These poor people have really had enough and, honestly, I really should have started this post out with number 8 because, when you think about it, I really have nothing to complain about.

9.  Rick Santorum again.  I know, I know, I shouldn't complain but man, he irks me.

Are You There Todd Akin, It's Me Margaret

Dear Todd Akin,

I am so happy that someone finally acknowledged that we girls have magical powers.  Honestly, we've been trying to convince you fellas of this for generations!!!  Since you're on that science committee and all, now we  know it's true.  Girls are magic and boys are not.  Ha!

About that science thing.  I'm trying to figure out a really good 2013 Spring Science Fair project based on your amazing abilities.  I think I can win it if I can only figure out all the logistics.  The only problem is that my Mom says our health insurance won't cover it so she won't sign the permission slip.  She said that I should figure out a project that involved baking soda, white vinegar and abstinence but none of those things sounded like much fun.

Since we're talking about this (okay, Todd Akin, I know we're not really talking but I do believe that you read all my letters) there are a few things that I have questions about.

What's with the whole it's okay for victims of rape or incest thing?  Now I know that you said that if it was really rape, a girl wouldn't get pregnant but I'm still confused.  Doesn't being pro-choice actually already cover the women who are raped either by a stranger or a family member?  And now that I think about it, isn't a woman who chooses not to have an abortion also covered by being pro-choice.  Now that I think about it even more, doesn't being pro-choice protect everyone's personal decisions.  Remember that girl that I told you about in my last letter?  The one with the big boobs who went behind the A&P and made out with my friend's brother and his friend Moose?  Isn't she also covered by being pro-choice.  I'm starting to think that what the people who want to say that certain pregnancies are okay and others are not are really saying that women who have healthy sex lives are really just sluts.  My aunt told me sex is a really nice thing but my Mom told me not to listen to her because it's not covered on our health insurance.

I'm also confused by the whole "legitimate" thing.  I read in the paper that you said that you didn't mean to say "legitimate rape" you meant to say "forcible rape".  Last year my English teacher spent a whole semester (snore) on good grammar so I know what the word redundant means.  She tried tripping us all up with a pop quiz but I got all of the redundancy questions right.    I also got all the oxymorons right (jumbo shrimp--hahaha). 

I have one last question and it's kind of a different topic.  I heard on the news that everyone's really worried that a hurricane is going to hit the Republican Convention.  And all the newscasters said that this would be really really terrible.  One guy even said that it was the worst thing that could happen.  Now we learned about primaries and all those political things in Social Studies class (my Mom says that polite people don't talk about politics) but since the only real candidate that you've put forward is Mitt Romney why are you all even bothering to have a convention.  It sounds like a really expensive really big party to me.  Don't get me wrong, I really like a big party.  My Mom has promised that she'll get a six foot wedge for my Sweet Sixteen and we can make onion dip from scratch (I never even knew you could do that :)

If a hurricane is coming, can't you all just stay home.  I heard that Chris Christie is going to speak but he's from New Jersey so he can just stay home and go out for coffee with Theresa from the Real Housewives (my Mom doesn't know I watch it so let's keep that between you and me).   Or maybe you could all go to Florida and help all the people who live there put masking tape on their windows so they don't get cut if their windows blow out.

Thanks for reading my letter, Todd Akin.  And please let me get my period really really soon.  I don't want to be the last girl in my class who has a bunch of stupid white men trying to stuff their boots up my snatch.

Love,
Margaret