2312

2312. That's the number of stitches I had to frog (aka rip out for the nonknitting fam) on Italian's anniversary sweater. Not only did I miss the deadline, but I also will have to reknit 2312 stitches. Oddly enough, I feel better and like the sweater more. I think part of my new found love of the sweater is that now, it may will look right. It didn't look right before. The trees in the forrest motif didn't look like trees. They looked like naked stumps. I found out last night that the reason they looked like naked stumps were because the limbs were showing up on the inside of the sweater and the stumps were on the outside of the sweater. I should have taken a picture to clarify, but there will be many more opportunities to display pictorial proof of my ditziness, so, we'll move on.

I frogged the entire forrest on the gansey and began reknitting it last night. I think this go round, the trees will have limbs. Now, here is the really shocking part of my frogging experience. I did not have a lifeline in my knitting. I frogged without abandon and picked up stitches, praying that I would have the correct number of stitches on my needles. Surprisingly, I did! I did not drop a single stitch! Yay! I did happen to lose two sterling beaded stitch markers (I have no idea how I did this because I frogged on the floor and the missing stitch markers were not on the floor, odd I tell you), but I didn't drop a stitch! I decided to not tempt bad mojo, or karma, or the fates, so I also added a lifeline to my knitting.

I think my love for the sweater was also rejuvinated with a little help from Italian last night. Before I frogged the forrest, I had a gnawing feeling that the sweater was turning out to be more of a crop top, which is not a look that suits Italian. I held the sweater up to him last night and was shocked to see that it hit the perfect spot on his frame. Another Yay! Then, since our anniversary has passed, and I can open knit and talk about the sweater, I showed him the picture from Handknit Holidays. He loved it! He said that it was perfect. He beamed. Yay!

On this day, I thee wed

There is no sweater, but there is an anniversary. Today is the day that we celebrate our commitment to each other and our partnership. We celebrate the love the holds us together and the acts that we perform to make that love grow. We celebrate the love that nurtures our souls and teaches us the lessons of unconditional love. Today we remember that this partnership is made of individuals who strive to become more by being together. We compliment each others' strengths and weakness. We are partners in our marriage and in our lives. Happy Anniversary.

Love,
me

My Mother's Day

My Mother's Day began with a little kiss on the cheek and a hug from my hubby wishing me a happy mother's day and asking if I wanted coffee or a mimosa. This was quickly followed by a very large hug from a small boy and another wish for a Happy Mother's Day. He had given me his gift the night before (just like his momma, he hates to wait). He sat on my lap for a bit and we talked as Italian went to the kitchen to pour a cup of joe. Little Clover convinced me that I didn't need breakfast in bed. What I needed was to eat breakfast in the living room while we watched cartoons. We then convinced Italian that this was truly the best way to spend Mother's Day.

When I was settled on the sofa, and Little Clover was settled on the floor, Italian brought out an amazing plate of cheese grits, eggs benedict with fried oysters, and a luscious cheese biscuit. The food smelled amazing, and best of all, the kitchen was clean! After breakfast, I got to knit. I knitted on the socks for my little guy, the anniversary sweater, and a tank top for me. I knitted for hours without interruption and it was wonderful. Then, later in the day, we spent the rest of the afternoon with Italian's family, playing and snuggling. At one point, I called the Great Grandma Clover to wish her a happy mother's day. When she answered the phone, I said "Hey, Grandma, happy mother's day."

Little Clover: Grandma? She's in the kitchen, momma. Are you calling her? (Yelling) Grandma! Is my mom talking to you?

Italian's Mom: (Responding from the kitchen) No, honey.

Great Grandma Clover and I were giggling as I tried to explain to Little Clover that I was on the phone with his Great Grandma. I'm still not sure if he got it.

Mother's Day is an odd day for me. I enjoy having the guys cook for me and give me space and give me time, but this seems contradictory to a point. Spending time alone, doesn't seem to be celebrating motherhood. Yet, having time alone is sometimes nice and very rare for a mother. Mother's Day is hardest, I think, on the little people. They don't often understand that maybe Moms need some time every now and then. All they understand is that they really miss Mom when she's not around, and you know, that feeling of being missed, of knowing that someone is wanting you, is a great feeling and I think the best reward of motherhood. I know I still miss my mom.

You might be a knitter

I haven't seen another list like this, but I haven't been reading blogs very long either. If anyone knows of another list, please let me know. I'd love to see it. This is also just a little insight into how knitters get a bit quirky; and being the good southerner that I am, I modeled it off of Jeff Foxworthy's famous routine.

This post gets a bit PG, due to a reference that may be taken badly. I was a bit hesitant because I am a daughter and granddaughter before I am an adult and maintain some aspects of those roles. Still, it is funny.

You might be a knitter if:

• Counting sheep keeps you awake with excitement


• You keep rewinding a movie to see the sweaters a little better


• You see a package of cocktail toothpicks as really cheap cable needles


• You stop by the side of the road during cotton harvesting season to snag some free cotton for spinning


• Your mate finds yarn in his drawers (because you've run out of space everywhere else)


• Your kids no longer moan when you say "Just one more row"


• You know how to pronounce "skein"


• You don't own a single handknit scarf


• You don't own a scarf at all


• You only wear hand knit socks


• Your kids always have a scarf


• Your kids' school projects always include yarn


• Thoughts of trans-atlantic flights or cross country train rides fill you with joy


• You know the dangers of SEX*


• You enable other knitters during SEX


• You don't go to movies because they are dark and you can't rewind


• You have an iPod so you can keep up with your "reading"


• Moths terrify you


• You laugh at "Dry Clean Only" labels on wool sweaters


• When planning vacations, you include LYS on the list of "attractions"


• You know how to sew a rip in a knit t-shirt


• Before you buy a sweater on mega-sale, you check the side seams


• You carry a larger purse (backpack) to hold your WIP


• You move to a colder climate to wear more knitted goods


• You visit the "I love alpacas" website daily


• You had to find new friends because your other friends just didn't understand


• You stop random people on the street and asked to see the insides of their sweaters

*Stash Enhancement eXcursions
Shame on you :)

The Threaded Bliss

Many, many, many thanks to Sheila at Threaded Bliss in Nashville(Brentwood)! (Sheila, I have no idea how you stumbled across this blog, but I am very glad that you did!)

I was devastated when I realized I would miss the Yarn Harlot on her book tour, but Sheila let me know that there were extra signed copies at her store. I called and ordered it on Tuesday. It came in my mail Thursday! I've been busy reading it which is why I haven't been blogging. That and the fact that the Clovers have been pretty busy lately. The service at Threaded Bliss was not only very friendly, but also amazingly prompt! Thank you, again!

I've had another mechanically challenged episode. On Friday, Little Clover had an ice cream party at school. We volunteered to bring something to the party and were given our "assignment" Thursday night. We decided to leave early Friday morning and have breakfast together before school. I asked him what he would like and he told me that he just wanted to get a donut at the grocery store. We headed straight for the bakery where the freshly made donuts where waiting in a glass case behind doors. I grabbed the handle and tried my darnest to slide the door over. It wouldn't budge. I tried again. Still, the door wouldn't slide over. I took my hand off the handle and tilted my head, hoping that some movement might stir my brain activity. At this point, Little Clover reached up, pulled the door open and said "I want that one, Momma."

Thank goodness he got his dad's common sense.

Yarn Menagerie

Once upon a time, there was a little boy who loved animals. Where ever he was, he searched and hunted for animals, both real and toys, to hold and hug. One day, he discovered his mom could make animals by waving her magic wand over balls of yarn. The magic was slow at times, but eventually, an animal would emerge for him to hold.

This is the latest addition to Little Clover’s yarn zoo, a zebra made from wool sock yarn. The zebra was finished late Sunday night, just barely coming in under the deadline for a knit along. I placed it in bed with Little Clover who found it in the morning. His eyes light up and he played with it all morning as we got ready for school. Then last night, when he went to bed, he tucked it under the covers with its head on his pillow. He named her Stripes.

When I Like Something

I must really like it. Especially when it comes to home furnishings. I've been on an Arts and Crafts kick for years now, but have just come to accept it. Now, every piece of furniture I see and love has hints of Arts and Crafts. I love Tudor style homes and ranch style layouts. I now live in a Tudor style house with a ranch floor plan. I'm also a bit slow, we've talked about that, and have just realized that I live in a Tudor style house with a ranch layout. It's sad really.

Even though I've been on this Arts and Craft/Mission kick, my furniture doesn't reflect this. My living room set is six years old. We bought it when we had a little Little Clover. The upolstrey is an olive green and khaki type corduroy looking fabric. It was great for a family with a little person. It doesn's show grape fruit stains, both fermented and unfermented. It is comfy and soft, perfect for bouncing, yet it still looked grown-up. It was perfect. We still have it.

Then a few months ago, I saw a chair that would be perfect for the bedroom. It is comfy and soft, perfect for reading by the bed. It has this great olive green corduroy fabric that won't show stains, and both Italian and I loved it. We brought it home. We unboxed it. We put it in the bedroom by the bed. We realized it was the exact same upolstrey as our living room furniture. The exact same. Our taste had not changed much in six years. We were officially boring at that point.

Then I decided to start decorating the drunken reading room. I informed Italian that I would be coming home with a rug. He didn't believe me until I came home with a 10x12 rug shoved into my compact car. He begrudgingly helped me move the furniture in the drunken reading room and roll out the rug. He actually liked it and admitted that it tied the room together (but not in a Big Lebowski kinda way). We were happy. Until I realized that the kitchen chair pads were a disaster.

Fortunately, I received an email that Pottery Barn was having a sale, and they had kitchen chair pads that I liked! It was a sign! I ordered them! They were cute and not too feminine and not to masculine. They came yesterday. I pulled them out of the box and liked them even more! They looked great in the kitchen and I was quite smug with my bargain find. Until, that is, Italian pointed out that I must really like the rug.





Yep, they are the EXACT same pattern as the rug.

In other random Friday news:
Check out what knitters do for fun. Not only are we crafty, but we are phat punk'd. Does anyone say "Phat" anymore?

Here is a happy pic to bring in a happy weekend: some kid art brought to you buy Little Clover.

Bad Mojo

I don't know what I have done to upset the Canadian gods, but it must have been a doozy. I have bad Canadian mojo.

One of my favorite books, Anne of Green Gables, is written by a Canadian and is set in Canada.
One of my favorite bands is Canadian.
One of my favorite sports is Canadian (first modern indoor game was played in Montreal).
One of my favorite knitters is Canadian.
One would think that the Candian gods would accept me even though I am not a Canadian. Unfortunately, this is not the case. Instead, they mock and tease me.

You see, I have seen my favorite Canadian band, BNL, live three times in my life. I have been in the same city (or within a 3 hour drive) and missed them six times in my life. Yep, six. The last time was in Orlando during a family vacation. Italian wouldn't let me leave the family vacation for a very brief three hour period to see them, live, in concert. I still cry a little.

Now, my bad mojo is infiltrating my knitting life. The Yarn Harlot will be in Nashvegas tonight and I will not. (Pause while I hang my head and cry). I own her books and have dutifully resisted buying the new one so I could buy it when I went to the signing. That's not going to happen now, and it gets worse. I missed her when she was in my fair city last time because I didn't know she was here!!!!! Wait, it still gets worse. Nana Clover lives in Nashville and I could easily give her a call and beg, and beg, and beg her to go to Threaded Bliss and get a signed copy for me, except, she's not in Nashville tonight either!!!!!! My favorite Nashville knitter is not in Nashville! The irony!!!!! I have my fingers crossed that when I am in Vancouver this summer, she may be there, or at the very least, my visit to Vancouver will finally rid me of my bab Canadian mojo, kinda like bringing a goat to Wrigley Field.

Wish you were here

I wish I was there, too. Unfortunately, I'm stuck at home while Papa and Nana Clover are living it up at the beach. That's the view from their balcony. They watch the dolphins in the water every morning. Aren't you just jealous?

Sock it to me!

When our protagonist last left us, she had just turned the heel of her sock, leaving her dangling before the last leg of the second sock. Will she finish the sock? Will she succumb to second sock syndrome? Will she ever find time to work on the marathon anniversary sweater?
Dum, dum, dummmmm!

Protagonist: Ha, ha, Socks! I've got you now! You thought you could string me along for another week, but no! I've proven you wrong once again!

Sock: (muffled wooly sounds)

Protagonist: What's that you say? How did I do it? Well, I had some help from The Javanator and my SnB! Now, into the shoe with you!

As our protagonist springs out to fight another day and another yarn, the socks learn to love their new home.



My feet are happy and my stash is heart-broken that another yarn has been taken away. That's okay. I offered the stash a new ball this weekend. Since lent is over, I can buy yarn again! This is the first year that I've given up something for lent. Usually, I make a commitment to do something that will positively impact the life of another person. I'll go back to that next year. It is much easier than giving up stash enhancement excursions. Plus, I think my family is happier when I buy yarn.

The new yarn is cotton and it looks like this:



Wait a minute! How did that happen? I could have sworn it was yarn!!!!! I must of knitted a baby hat and booties in my delirious joy of finishing the socks (Sweater? Anniversary? What anniversary sweater?). Luckily, FoxyCPA has a charity auction needing a baby hat and booties. These are being shipped to her.

Oh, and one final thing I did this weekend in between basketball games (we lost), birthday parties (Little Clover got new rollerblades for the party), and crawfish boils (love having friends from NOLA!):


My very first sewing project. Have a happy day.

A Pun-y Post

In a Station of the Metro
The apparition of the faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough
-Ezra Pound

I am not a huge Ezra Pound fan, but I love this poem. I was introduced to In a Station of the Metro my sophomore year of high school and was taken by it. The words were stunning and the image was captivating. My teacher for the class spent a considerable amount of time on poetry and required us to select a poem to write about. I chose this one. When Pound first wrote the poem, it was over 31 lines long. Over a course of year, he edited it and shortened it. The lines that he finally left were buried in the middle of the original poem. Like the beautiful faces that inspired the poem, they finally emerged as the sentiment he was meant to voice. For National Poetry Month, I was intending on including In a Station of the Metro at some point. Today seemed to be the right day, especially with the frightfully awful weather this morning. Perfect knitting weather.


As for the knitting, I'm on the last leg of the socks. Literally. I've turned the heel and am very anxious on finishing them up. You can see what's left (and what sock is right). The pattern has been easy and hasn't walked all over me, like I thought they may. I was able to run through the knitting fairly quickly considering the marathon knitting I'm doing with the anniversary sweater. The socks are a keeper and not a set that I will boot any time soon. Nope, they are too cute and need to be shown off. Plus, they match, which is not necessarily and easy thing for a handknitter to do. This post may seem a bit corny. What can I say? The shoe fits. So do the socks.

These are my first toe-up socks and I must say, I love this format for socks. The toes are short row toes, which seem more normal than the pointy toed socks I've made in the past that require a kitchner stitch. The heel is also made using short rows. I think I like the short rows, but I wouldn't mind trying a toe-up pattern that has a heel flap. I think I miss the mysticism of the gusset. Plus, the heel flap is a blank canvas begging knitters to play with color or with stitch patterns. I'm still on the hunt for a generic toe-up with a heel flap pattern.


I never thought I'd have the chance to meet someone who split a baseball, but now I do. Not only did I get to meet someone who split a baseball, but he lives with me too! Little Clover broke the ball while we were at the park. He even autographed it for me with the date.

Gallant Chivalry

In honor of National Poetry Month, here is a little poem I wrote a couple of years ago.

Gallant Chivalry in Modern Times
Sir Gallahan did ride to shore
Upon his trusty horse
But stopped was he by lady’s maids
Who mistook him for a Norse.

The lady’s maids did need some help
For their carriage, it was stuck
The wheel was jammed, their horse was dead
When by lightning he was struck.

Sir Gallahan got off his steed
Knowing he was able
The lady’s maids in gratitude
Invited him to table.

He bowed his head and kissed their hands
And gallantly accepted.
“But, first!” he cried, “I must unstuck
Your carriage as expected.”

The lady’s maids did clap and squeal
Since excitement they did need.
But Sir Gallahan did break his neck
So the ladies took his steed.

Sew I knit

What happens when a super klutzy girl lays on a loveseat drinking wine celebrating the fact that the taxes are finished? Evidently, this happens:



Yep, that is my wine glass IN my water cup. I double fist it when I drink. I usually have a glass of wine and a glass of water. Both were on the floor in arms reach. I was reclining on the loveseat with my back against one armrest and my feet over the other. I reached down, grabbed the wine, took a sip, and then put it back on the floor, so I thought. For my friends out there that know me very well. I had to take a picture because I knew they wouldn't believe it. And yes, that is red wine.

Sew, what is up with the title of today's post? I've decide to officially try out my sewing machine and have joined a sew-along for knitters. I have used my sewing machine to make squares. Well, they resembled squares, but probably didn't fit the true definition of a square. They were a bit, um, lopsided. I'm hoping the purse goes a bit better. The fabric I picked is actually a toss pillow from the Pottery Barn outlet.



I bought two, one for the front of the purse and one for the back. For the handle, I couldn't find anything I liked, sew, I decided to knit an I-cord out of ribbon. The I-cord took 10 yards and is about 16 inches long. Because the handle is short, I think I'll only end up using one of the toss pillows and will fold it in half. Sew far, I haven't actually sewn anything. Sewing takes more time than I was anticipating.

Saturday was spent ripping out the seams and knitting the I-cord. I really thought I'd be able to knock out this purse Saturday and have it done for Easter. Things didn't really work out that way. Sewing involves cutting fabric. Laying out all the pieces. Pinning it together. Then, finally sewing and finishing. There is no knocking out something quickly. There might be a purse to show in a post or two.

Oh, on a final note, this is what Italian got for his birthday:

A guitar

Spring Fever

I have spring fever. I work in a cube with no windows, but my internal clock knows it is sunny and gorgeous and beautiful outside, perfect for taking Little Clover to the park to hike and play baseball, and then come home and run through the sprinkler. It is the perfect day for having a picnic in the backyard for dinner, and then knit outside with a silky cool cotton, or silk, or rayon fiber. None of those fibers are on my needles right now.

Instead, I'm in the middle of winter, knitting a zebra in wool, a pair of socks in wool, and an anniversary sweater in alpaca that I will give my honey in May. May???? What was I thinking? He won't be able to use the sweater until November. Oy! At least it is pretty. Yep, it is. The sweater is very pretty. I was extremely nervous when I picked out the pattern because I didn't want to mess up his first knitted item, and the pattern is a bit complex. I can even reveal what I'm making: The River Forrest Gansey from Handknit Holidays. I can now knit in the open because he found out what his gift would be. How did he find out? It involves wine.

We had a bottle of wine with dinner one night. As we lingered in the kitchen with Little Clover popping in and out to chat with us, we talked. We talked about our day, our work, his bowl turning, my knitting. Somewhere between glass two, unbeknownst to me I gave some mega-clues on his present. Then, two days later (I'm a bit slow), he mentions to his mom how 'of course he would love his anniversary present, because he loves sweaters, and he loves the color blue.' The conversation continues for 10 minutes, and has moved on to other topics, when it dawns on me. He knows!!!! (did I mention I'm a bit slow?) At least I can knit openly now, and hold the growing sweater up to him while he's awake instead of waiting until he falls asleep.

In other Random Friday news. Little Clover and Italian are spending the day home today for Easter break. Little Clover woke up when I left for work, and Italian was sleeping in from a late night working. He didn't get to sleep very long. He woke up to Little Clover walking into the bedroom saying, "I don't know. I'll ask him. Dad, are you taking the day off?" Italian opens his eyes and sees a blurry Little Clover with a blurry silver thing up by his ear. "Yes, I am," he sleepily replies. "Yep, my dad is staying home today," Little Clover procedes to tell the client on Italian's cellphone. Italian asked for the phone.

Oh, one more thing. The rose is from my rosebush. I haven't killed it yet. Let's see if it actually makes it through the summer.

Why I knit socks – Part 2

It was the fear speaking. I wanted to knit socks. They looked beautiful and unique. Italian even brought home a book one day on knitting socks, but the double pointed needles protruding out in all sorts of crazy directions really frightened me. I decided though, that I would not let fear stifle my new addiction and I attended a sock knitting class. I fell in love. The DPNs felt natural in my hands. The sock grew at a fast clip as the clicking needles went around and around. I understood the love knitters have for socks, and here is what I learned.

Socks are portable
One ball. That’s it. One center pull ball tucked under my arm is all I need to knit while I sing at choir practice, walk around at a casual party, or while on walk. I can knit and multi-task if I am working on a sock. Socks are perfect while travel in cramped spaces, say a compact car or a plane. I can almost always have knitting with me. A sock fits in my small purse and is ready for me in the event I’m stuck running errands or waiting at a restaurant. The sock is there to keep me company and to keep me patient.

Socks are meditative
Once a universal sock pattern is memorized, socks can be knitted without carrying around a pattern. The universal sock pattern I follow is kept on my PDA for easy reference, but I have found I don’t really need it. I can knit a sock while I think about other things and use the time to let my mind wander and see where I go.

Socks are a necessity
Really, they are. Granted, in this Southern Climate, socks are needed only 6 months out of the year. Buy knitting socks, I am giving my feet, and the feet of those I love, a useable example of my love for them. It’s the kind of love that is okay to walk all over. The socks will keep the feet of the wearer warm and toasty on cold winter days, the type of days where it might just dip into the 30s. Hopefully, when they are worn, the socks will remind the wearer that he is loved.

Socks are comfortable
A handknit sock is very comfortable. It fits like a glove (a handknit glove). Socks are made specifically for the wearer’s feet. Because of this, they conform to the curves and lengths of the wearer. They hug the wearer’s feet. You can’t buy that kind of hugging in a store. Well, not the stores that sell socks anyway.

Socks are unique
Once a pair of socks is complete, it cannot be reproduced. No one else will have socks just like those. They are special. They are individuals. They are their own. Knowing they are special is an extra incentive for knitting socks.

Socks are my favorite thing to knit. I always have a pair on the needles and a stash of yarn just for socks in my basket. So when I hear a nonknitter say, “you can buy those in the store,” I smile a half smile knowing what they are missing. When the comment comes from a knitter, I smile knowing she’ll be converted one day.

Above - Sock yarn from KnitPicks. The green colorway is Flyfishing and the blue colorway is Yukon which will be knit in for Alaska.

Why I knit socks - Part 1

I knit. I knit socks. And I love it. There is my confession.

Although more and more people are knitting, and more and more are doing it in public, nonknitters still occasionally stare. Gawk is probably more accurate. Sometimes the gawking is tinted with awe and amusement, as if a memory is being stirred and prodded by my pointy sticks clicking between long strands of wool. That's when comments such as, "Wow, is that hard?" or "My, how pretty." shower down. I'll smile back and give my knitting a little loving squeeze because it briefly brought joy to someone.

Other times, the gawking is more sinister, mocking, and haughty. That's when the "Oh, you knit" comments fly with the owner's own pointiness, poised to lunge at my sticks. Usually, the comment stops there if I'm knitting something innocuous, like a scarf or a sweater. Those seem to be nonthreatening types of garments, acceptable handknits, but, socks are different. Socks evoke confusion and sneers. Some nonknitters seem to be truly taken aback by someone who would make socks and see the knitter as, dare I say it, odd.

"You know, you can buy those at the store."

"Yes," I feel like replying, but just smile back instead, "and you can make your own coffee at home, you know." (SEC Disclosure: I own stock in a prolific coffeehouse - where there are as many locations as there are STARs in the sky - and strongly encourage everyone to go out, spend a BUCK, and have a barista prepare coffee for you. If you must make coffee at home, then buy this store's brand. You know which one I'm talking about).

Since I don't reply, the nonknitter walks off, shaking her head at my weirdness. Yes, I could buy socks at the store, and I do. I wear those socks often. They are utilitarian. They are not handknit socks, and I am speaking as a true connoisseur.

My love for socks began in grade school. I'm a product of a Catholic education which translate to 12 years of boring white socks. I'm not much of a boring white socks type of girl. Even my white socks now have a touch of pink trim or extra shock absorbing heel gussets. I craved bright colored socks with character, something that begged for attention. I began collecting socks that had toes, with bows, with bells, with stripes, with dots, with frogs. My sock drawer exploded with crazy socks in college.

Then I grew-up, got a job, and wore hose. The socks began to dwindle as they wore out, but I still loved looking at them in the stores. After awhile, I noticed that the white socks were making their way back into my drawer. Now, they brought their little black trouser sock friends with them. I was okay with this, but a little sad. It fit with my grown-up life. Something about it though, just didn't fit with me. That's when I started knitting again.

The urge hit suddenly. I began to see knitting books everywhere I went, calling to me. I'd flip through them until, one day, I found myself at a hobby store, in the yarn section. I bought some yarn and crocheted and knit. I made scarves, I made a sweater, I made a tank top. I saw patterns of socks and was taken aback. Sure they looked pretty, but they were socks. I could buy socks at the store...

Happy Birthday

This one if for my father-in-law, hello Dad. I want to wish you happy birthday and thank you for all the things that you have done for us. Thank you for helping out your kids as they stretch their way into adulthood, often making mistakes or miscalculation, such as forgetting to measure the door from the garage to the kitchen when buying a brand new fridge. Thank you also for not only accepting your children's friends, spouses, and significant others, but for also welcoming them into the family and making them feel at home. Thank you for the love you show your grandchildren and for the memories you are giving them. Happy Birthday.

On this day...

a remarkable person was born; someone who grew up to become a remarkable man. He brings laughter and love to those around him with his glowing smile and warm welcoming personality. He takes his job as a son, a friend, a brother, a husband, and a father seriously, striving to be the best in each of those roles and often succeeding. He makes me laugh with his sense of humor which is sly and witty. He freely gives of his time and of himself to those who ask, and he loves unconditionally. His hugs are warm and safe. He is intelligent (I'll let you have the one point today, but I still get the gold sticker) and easy to talk to. He shares ideas and thoughts and can carry a conversation with just about anyone. He plays music with soul and feeling and I love hearing him play. His talents are many and his faults are few. He is a true partner and companion, and I am fortunate to share in his life. Today is his day. So to a remarkable man, to my love, to my husband, to my partner, Happy Birthday. I love you.

You mean he listens?

Little Clover happened to over hear his grandma relate a story about a child she had encountered. Evidently, the child was a bit on the naughty side and was behaving badly. Little Clover, who often injects himself into adult conversation, asked his grandma if the child got what he wanted when he was fussy. Grandma responded that she wasn't sure. Then, Little Clover proceeds with his parenting advice. He tells his grandma,

"If the child is being fussy, then he should not get what he wants. That will only make him more fussy. When I'm fussy, my parents don't give me what I want. That way, I won't be fussy anymore."

Wow! I was speechless when I heard this! Italian and I try to explain our parenting actions to Little Clover, but honestly, I never ever thought he would listen, much less understand, much less repeat it as advice! I'm verklempt! Talk amongst yourselves. Seriously, I was floored. Here was this little person honestly buying into the philosophies that we were teaching him. He believed and understood the why behind how we parent, and by understanding the why, he knew he was loved. I just hope that he stays this understanding in his teen years (Dad, I officially apologize for any and all anxiety I may have caused you and Mom. Let the good karma flow).

And a 1, and a 2, and a 3

Take me out to the ballgame,
Take me out to the crowd!
Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jacks!
I don't care if I never go back!
For it's root, root, root for the Cubbies!
If they don't win it's a shame!
For it's one! Two! Three strikes you're out
At the old ballgame!

Cubs Win!!!! 16-7