That's how long it was between full time jobs for me.
But things have finally turned for the better and can't begin to tell you how delighted and relieved I am. You know it was very hard to handle while it was happening but I think (not sure yet) that it may have been an extraordinary time.
I'm going to spend a little time reflecting on all those minutes and see what emerges. I have a feeling it will be good.
In the meantime, here's BadKitten Day 33.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Monday, January 17, 2011
Well Said
This is worth reading over and over.
And it never fails to reduce me to tears.
Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.
But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.
In a sense we have come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.
But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred.
We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. They have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.
As we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied, as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their selfhood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating "For Whites Only". We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.
I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.
Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.
I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.
I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal."
I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.
I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.
I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification; one day right there in Alabama, little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.
This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.
This will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with a new meaning, "My country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring."
And if America is to be a great nation this must become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania!
Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado!
Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California!
But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia!
Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee!
Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.
And when this happens, when we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"
And it never fails to reduce me to tears.
I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.
But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.
In a sense we have come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds." But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check -- a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quick sands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.
It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.
But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred.
We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. They have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.
As we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied, as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their selfhood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating "For Whites Only". We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.
I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.
Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.
I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.
I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal."
I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.
I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.
I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification; one day right there in Alabama, little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.
This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.
This will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with a new meaning, "My country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring."
And if America is to be a great nation this must become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania!
Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado!
Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California!
But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia!
Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee!
Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.
And when this happens, when we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"
I'm going to skip BadKitten today and offer up the video for every young person in the hope that we adults can give them a world of freedom, justice and accpetance.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
No really--it's all about Christmas
Okay so first I couldn't find which bag I had left my camera in. Then I couldn't find which bag the charger was in. Then I found them both and tried to get my act together but that didn't work out well at all!
So let's finish talking about Christmas, shall we? The day started out with breakfast at the inn. Which, naturally, was delicious. The start you out with a little baked treat (it was a cinnamon bun Christmas morning) and a little espresso cup of some sort of fruit smoothie. And it was a Christmas miracle--a smoothie made without banana! You see, I am violently allergic to bananas and most smoothies are made with them so I always miss out on it. Even if they say it's, oh say, a strawberry smoothie, it usually has banana in it to give it body and texture. And hives. Big ones! Emergency room ones.
Coffee, waffles, etc. etc. etc. Really, everything you could possibly want from breakfast at a beautiful little inn.
Then off to Sissy's where this was waiting for us.
See all those presents. Well that's barely half of them. The pile was HUGE. And good.
My best gift that I gave this year was my niece's new purse. It's made out of actual film from the movie Twilight. So when you hold it up to the light, you can see all the characters. It's way cool and was a huge hit!
Gifts, gifts. Eat, eat. Lounge, lounge. I lost the bet on what was in the little Lilly Pulitzer bags. I had guessed makeup bags but they were really lovely pashminas.
When it got to the point that no one could move, we decided that it was a really good idea to move. So we grabbed a folding chair, Blueberry grabbed her skates, and we marched up the hill to the pond.
BrattyGirl planted her ass in the chair.
Lucy chased a stick.
Don't you just love her sweater?
After a sufficient amount of fresh air poisoning it was back to the inn for dinner. And it was divine. I had the diver scallops and the duck. Too die for. All the desserts looked so good that I just told the waiter to pick the one that he would choose. It was an assortment of outrageous, orange concoctions. I swooned.
By 8 o'clock, we were all snuggled down and settled in for a comfortable evening. And then the phone rang. My sister had called to warn me about the blizzard. Yeah, that blizzard. Not sure if you remember the last time I drove home from VT in the snow but suffice it to say there was no way I was getting on the Taconic again. But I had until morning to worry about so I went down to the lobby to fill my ice bucket and have a glass of chardonnay. And who should I find but Pop. Or should we call him Samurai Santa.
As you would imagine happening, in a lovely little inn on Christmas night, we met some people. Really really nice people. There was a couple from England who were traveling to NYC in a few days and we gave them a list of places, off the beaten path of course, to check out. There was the couple from NH who, it turned out, were friends of friends. We got to meet our favorite inn keeper's fiance. It was heaven.
So all that said, was it Christmas? No, it wasn't. It was all brand new. There were none of our normal traditions. My dad didn't get to flirt with the pretty little waitress at our local Italian joint on Christmas Eve because we didn't go there. We didn't have prime rib and mashed potatoes because we ate at the inn.
Will it be Christmas? You bet your boots it will. The funny thing about starting new traditions is that they aren't traditions until you do them twice.
P.S. Just in case you were worried, I beat the blizzard home by about five minutes. I missed out on the first day of the Webs sale but I did get to make a little pit stop in Northhampton to pick up a bag that a friend had left at her mother-in-law's house so I did get to drive right by Webs. I had to keep reminding myself that no matter how much yarn I put in my car, it wasn't going to give my little Mazda any better traction in the snow.
And before I forget. Here's BadKitten Day 32. I really like this song and this band. Enjoy!
So let's finish talking about Christmas, shall we? The day started out with breakfast at the inn. Which, naturally, was delicious. The start you out with a little baked treat (it was a cinnamon bun Christmas morning) and a little espresso cup of some sort of fruit smoothie. And it was a Christmas miracle--a smoothie made without banana! You see, I am violently allergic to bananas and most smoothies are made with them so I always miss out on it. Even if they say it's, oh say, a strawberry smoothie, it usually has banana in it to give it body and texture. And hives. Big ones! Emergency room ones.
Coffee, waffles, etc. etc. etc. Really, everything you could possibly want from breakfast at a beautiful little inn.
Then off to Sissy's where this was waiting for us.
See all those presents. Well that's barely half of them. The pile was HUGE. And good.
My best gift that I gave this year was my niece's new purse. It's made out of actual film from the movie Twilight. So when you hold it up to the light, you can see all the characters. It's way cool and was a huge hit!
Gifts, gifts. Eat, eat. Lounge, lounge. I lost the bet on what was in the little Lilly Pulitzer bags. I had guessed makeup bags but they were really lovely pashminas.
When it got to the point that no one could move, we decided that it was a really good idea to move. So we grabbed a folding chair, Blueberry grabbed her skates, and we marched up the hill to the pond.
BrattyGirl planted her ass in the chair.
Lucy chased a stick.
Don't you just love her sweater?
After a sufficient amount of fresh air poisoning it was back to the inn for dinner. And it was divine. I had the diver scallops and the duck. Too die for. All the desserts looked so good that I just told the waiter to pick the one that he would choose. It was an assortment of outrageous, orange concoctions. I swooned.
By 8 o'clock, we were all snuggled down and settled in for a comfortable evening. And then the phone rang. My sister had called to warn me about the blizzard. Yeah, that blizzard. Not sure if you remember the last time I drove home from VT in the snow but suffice it to say there was no way I was getting on the Taconic again. But I had until morning to worry about so I went down to the lobby to fill my ice bucket and have a glass of chardonnay. And who should I find but Pop. Or should we call him Samurai Santa.
As you would imagine happening, in a lovely little inn on Christmas night, we met some people. Really really nice people. There was a couple from England who were traveling to NYC in a few days and we gave them a list of places, off the beaten path of course, to check out. There was the couple from NH who, it turned out, were friends of friends. We got to meet our favorite inn keeper's fiance. It was heaven.
So all that said, was it Christmas? No, it wasn't. It was all brand new. There were none of our normal traditions. My dad didn't get to flirt with the pretty little waitress at our local Italian joint on Christmas Eve because we didn't go there. We didn't have prime rib and mashed potatoes because we ate at the inn.
Will it be Christmas? You bet your boots it will. The funny thing about starting new traditions is that they aren't traditions until you do them twice.
P.S. Just in case you were worried, I beat the blizzard home by about five minutes. I missed out on the first day of the Webs sale but I did get to make a little pit stop in Northhampton to pick up a bag that a friend had left at her mother-in-law's house so I did get to drive right by Webs. I had to keep reminding myself that no matter how much yarn I put in my car, it wasn't going to give my little Mazda any better traction in the snow.
And before I forget. Here's BadKitten Day 32. I really like this song and this band. Enjoy!
Sunday, January 2, 2011
One One One One
There's something about all the ones today that is making me feel brand new! I love New Year's Day. The world is your oyster and anything at all is possible.
I'm getting started on a new knitting project tonight. BadCat and Jeri have put together an amazing, gorgeous, mathematical lace sweater and, to date, there are over 70 of us signed up to knit it together. Since I'm starting out the year with a project called Metamorphosis, I've been thinking a lot about change and what it means.
Last year, my new year's resolution was to live my life with more generosity of spirit. I may have mentioned before that this was not a self-deprecating resolution. Rather, it was about being generous of spirit with intent rather than just as habit.
So this year, I'm going for Metamorphosis as my New Year's resolution. I am not talking about actively running around looking for things to change. I'm making a commitment to being thoughtful about change. And curious about it. I'm going to try to look at things with an eye to whether or not I should change how I react, respond and decide.
If nothing else, it should be interesting.
By the way, I know I had said the next post would be about the rest of Christmas but I couldn't find the charger for the camera and I have pictures to share. The charger has been located and the battery is charging so I promise I'll finish up the Vermont tale tomorrow.
Here's BadKitten day 31
I'm getting started on a new knitting project tonight. BadCat and Jeri have put together an amazing, gorgeous, mathematical lace sweater and, to date, there are over 70 of us signed up to knit it together. Since I'm starting out the year with a project called Metamorphosis, I've been thinking a lot about change and what it means.
Last year, my new year's resolution was to live my life with more generosity of spirit. I may have mentioned before that this was not a self-deprecating resolution. Rather, it was about being generous of spirit with intent rather than just as habit.
So this year, I'm going for Metamorphosis as my New Year's resolution. I am not talking about actively running around looking for things to change. I'm making a commitment to being thoughtful about change. And curious about it. I'm going to try to look at things with an eye to whether or not I should change how I react, respond and decide.
If nothing else, it should be interesting.
By the way, I know I had said the next post would be about the rest of Christmas but I couldn't find the charger for the camera and I have pictures to share. The charger has been located and the battery is charging so I promise I'll finish up the Vermont tale tomorrow.
Here's BadKitten day 31
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Christmas in Vermont
Traditions, like promises, are made to be broken. And then, of course, rebuilt even better! For many, many years, Christmas was spent at my parent's house. Breakfast in the morning, open presents, lounge around (maybe a little nap), too much dinner, too much wine, and then over to my cousin's for coffee and cake (she lived around the corner).
But then my sister had kids and my cousin sold the house and moved into an apartment, and her kids had kids so things changed.
For many years Christmas morning was spent at my sister's house. Then everyone went home for a while, cleaned up and prettied up and went to Granny and Pop's for dinner.
Then my sister moved from the apartment on the same street where we all lived (I was okay with the move--she's walking distance to Flying Fingers) and we started doing breakfast and presents at her house, then the break, then back to her house for dinner.
My hobby is knitting (and some other things but really, a lot of knitting). My sister's hobby is checking out the local real estate magazines everywhere she goes. Unlike knitting, it rarely (almost never) ends up with a finished product. But much like my experience with Snowshoe Farm at Rhinebeck, sometimes the stars align. Two years ago, she saw a really beautiful piece of property in Vermont in the little local real estate rag while she and her hubby were weekending at an inn. They went back to the same inn a month or so later--it was very romantic--and lo and behold, the same property had been reduced. And then it happened again. And again. And again. So they made a bid. A really, really low bid. And it was accepted. And whiz bang boom, they were the owners of 12 acres in Vermont. With a pond. Overlooking a bigger pond. And only an hour north of Webs. They threw up a cute little house up and before you could say "you're gonna want four wheel drive" we were all off to spend Christmas in Vermont.
I drove up the Taconic on Christmas Eve. It's a road that never ceases to amaze me. It was a very clear day but not the type of day that you would call crystal clear. The sky had a bid of milkiness to it that was the perfect foil for the golds, browns, greens and reds of the winter landscape. There wasn't a cloud in site so the shadows on the bare trees were crisp and fine and dramatic.
Of course I didn't manage to stop and take any pictures but I have tremendous trust in your imaginations.
I made it Manchester just as it was getting dark and paid a visit to Judith at Yarns for your Soul. It's a lovely shop with lovely things owned by a lovely woman. Judith is also from the Y.O. so you know you can count on her.
I bought this. It's Malabrigo Sock in the colorway Stonechat.
And this. This is delicious on so many levels. It is Arauncania Ruca in the color 4. And, dig this, it's 100% sugarcane. It is smooth and soft and silky and I love it. My sister is actually picking up two more skeins for me on her way home (did I mention that I have an amazing yarn family).
And this.
This may be my favorite. It's two skeins of local alpaca made especially for the shop. And please note the hang tag with the photo of the alpaca that it came from. In case you can't read upside down, his name is Hazlenut. He lives at Marlee Farm and seems quite content. Not to mention soft.
From there, on to Windham Hill Inn to check in and then up to Sissy's for dinner. When my sister and bro-in-law started staying there, my sister was tickled by the treat platter they put out every evening in the lobby. So, since Granny and Pop and I were staying there and everyone else was in the house and things had all gone full circle and I liked the way it all felt (still do as a matter of fact) I called the wonderful innkeeper Katja and she made us a beautiful treat plate to bring to the house. Of course my sister had plenty to nibble on as well. There was shrimp cocktail, and cheese and crackers (which I couldn't live without), and delicious little cocktail franks and then takeout Italian food from a great little local place. And family. And a fireplace. And wine (Pop was gracious enough to drive my car back to the inn so I could indulge). And then the coziest sleep I've had in a while.
The girls and I stuck bows on all the presents and put them under the tree. A wager was made on what was in the Lily Pulitzer shopping bags that Granny had for all the women. And Lucy the dog collapsed from fresh air poisoning.
Tomorrow I'll tell you about Christmas.
And honestly, I haven't forgotten about my blog. Life just got in the way. So here's BadKitten Day 30.
As usual, apologies for the advertisement.
But then my sister had kids and my cousin sold the house and moved into an apartment, and her kids had kids so things changed.
For many years Christmas morning was spent at my sister's house. Then everyone went home for a while, cleaned up and prettied up and went to Granny and Pop's for dinner.
Then my sister moved from the apartment on the same street where we all lived (I was okay with the move--she's walking distance to Flying Fingers) and we started doing breakfast and presents at her house, then the break, then back to her house for dinner.
My hobby is knitting (and some other things but really, a lot of knitting). My sister's hobby is checking out the local real estate magazines everywhere she goes. Unlike knitting, it rarely (almost never) ends up with a finished product. But much like my experience with Snowshoe Farm at Rhinebeck, sometimes the stars align. Two years ago, she saw a really beautiful piece of property in Vermont in the little local real estate rag while she and her hubby were weekending at an inn. They went back to the same inn a month or so later--it was very romantic--and lo and behold, the same property had been reduced. And then it happened again. And again. And again. So they made a bid. A really, really low bid. And it was accepted. And whiz bang boom, they were the owners of 12 acres in Vermont. With a pond. Overlooking a bigger pond. And only an hour north of Webs. They threw up a cute little house up and before you could say "you're gonna want four wheel drive" we were all off to spend Christmas in Vermont.
I drove up the Taconic on Christmas Eve. It's a road that never ceases to amaze me. It was a very clear day but not the type of day that you would call crystal clear. The sky had a bid of milkiness to it that was the perfect foil for the golds, browns, greens and reds of the winter landscape. There wasn't a cloud in site so the shadows on the bare trees were crisp and fine and dramatic.
Of course I didn't manage to stop and take any pictures but I have tremendous trust in your imaginations.
I made it Manchester just as it was getting dark and paid a visit to Judith at Yarns for your Soul. It's a lovely shop with lovely things owned by a lovely woman. Judith is also from the Y.O. so you know you can count on her.
I bought this. It's Malabrigo Sock in the colorway Stonechat.
And this. This is delicious on so many levels. It is Arauncania Ruca in the color 4. And, dig this, it's 100% sugarcane. It is smooth and soft and silky and I love it. My sister is actually picking up two more skeins for me on her way home (did I mention that I have an amazing yarn family).
And this.
This may be my favorite. It's two skeins of local alpaca made especially for the shop. And please note the hang tag with the photo of the alpaca that it came from. In case you can't read upside down, his name is Hazlenut. He lives at Marlee Farm and seems quite content. Not to mention soft.
From there, on to Windham Hill Inn to check in and then up to Sissy's for dinner. When my sister and bro-in-law started staying there, my sister was tickled by the treat platter they put out every evening in the lobby. So, since Granny and Pop and I were staying there and everyone else was in the house and things had all gone full circle and I liked the way it all felt (still do as a matter of fact) I called the wonderful innkeeper Katja and she made us a beautiful treat plate to bring to the house. Of course my sister had plenty to nibble on as well. There was shrimp cocktail, and cheese and crackers (which I couldn't live without), and delicious little cocktail franks and then takeout Italian food from a great little local place. And family. And a fireplace. And wine (Pop was gracious enough to drive my car back to the inn so I could indulge). And then the coziest sleep I've had in a while.
The girls and I stuck bows on all the presents and put them under the tree. A wager was made on what was in the Lily Pulitzer shopping bags that Granny had for all the women. And Lucy the dog collapsed from fresh air poisoning.
Tomorrow I'll tell you about Christmas.
And honestly, I haven't forgotten about my blog. Life just got in the way. So here's BadKitten Day 30.
As usual, apologies for the advertisement.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Twelve Eleven Ten
Yeah baby! It's my birthday! This will have to be a multi-post topic because, so far, it's been fantastic! The celebrating actually started on Wednesday with lunch at the new Japanese place in Hastings on Hudson with Debby and Jeri. Deeeelicious!
Then off to knitting group where there were presents (more about those in the present post).
Then last night a party at Pat's house (of the tomatoes) with delicious treats, delicious wine, delicious friends and, ahem, delicious brownies.
This morning it was off to the Mead House for the Fun with Fiber group where we finished the red velvet cake. (Did I mention there was red velvet cake? Really really good red velvet cake!)
From there I took myself up to Flying Fingers to buy myself a birthday gift.
It is so not me--I don't usually go for metallic--but this was outrageously beautiful so I bought it. And then I realized that, since I got it with the money my cousin gave me for my birthday, I was technically not buying it for myself. So I get to buy myself another birthday gift! Woo Hoo!
Tonight it's more time with friends and then family dinner tomorrow. And if I feel like stopping then, I will. If not, I will keep on celebrating.
And of course, in celebration of my birthday, here's BadKitten Day 29 (Hey--that's funny--we've all been joking about it being my 29th birthday).
Then off to knitting group where there were presents (more about those in the present post).
Then last night a party at Pat's house (of the tomatoes) with delicious treats, delicious wine, delicious friends and, ahem, delicious brownies.
This morning it was off to the Mead House for the Fun with Fiber group where we finished the red velvet cake. (Did I mention there was red velvet cake? Really really good red velvet cake!)
From there I took myself up to Flying Fingers to buy myself a birthday gift.
It is so not me--I don't usually go for metallic--but this was outrageously beautiful so I bought it. And then I realized that, since I got it with the money my cousin gave me for my birthday, I was technically not buying it for myself. So I get to buy myself another birthday gift! Woo Hoo!
Tonight it's more time with friends and then family dinner tomorrow. And if I feel like stopping then, I will. If not, I will keep on celebrating.
And of course, in celebration of my birthday, here's BadKitten Day 29 (Hey--that's funny--we've all been joking about it being my 29th birthday).
Friday, December 10, 2010
A quick hit and run post
On the way to knitting group last night something really funny happened. I was looking for a parking spot and there was a perfect spot right across the street. I was sitting in a LONG line for the traffic light so I blew a u turn and took the spot.
Then the car in front of me pulled out and the guy two cars behind me in the line did the same thing and took that spot.
I was gathering up my stuff so the driver who took the spot in front of me and I were getting out of our cars at the same time.
It went like this.
Me: Copy cat!
Him: I thought of it first.
Me: Yeah, well I did it first.
Both of us had a big pause.
Then he looked at me and said,
"Yeah, well my car's bigger."
I laughed all the way up the block.
Here's BadKitten Day 28.
Then the car in front of me pulled out and the guy two cars behind me in the line did the same thing and took that spot.
I was gathering up my stuff so the driver who took the spot in front of me and I were getting out of our cars at the same time.
It went like this.
Me: Copy cat!
Him: I thought of it first.
Me: Yeah, well I did it first.
Both of us had a big pause.
Then he looked at me and said,
"Yeah, well my car's bigger."
I laughed all the way up the block.
Here's BadKitten Day 28.
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