What Would Gandhi Do?

Black Friday, my Aunt Fanny. I'm staying home.

Because Virginia is making a nest. She has used up the several handfuls of hay and is now making do with shredded newspaper. Babies due tomorrow. Squee.



It rained earlier in the week. Which was notable only because it has been so dry. Here is Shed Elv*s, and rain, through the kitchen winder.



For Shannon, here is Buster at age thirteen, and he is still creakin' along.



I don't even want to think about for how much longer. He still knows that he needs to be outside for peein' and poopin', so that is a Good Thing. Deep down inside, I know that his future with us is short. He, on the other hand, has no idea. Bless is good old doggy heart.

I combed my hair out last night, which always amazes me. It is so long! To the bottom of the butt.



There are times that I toy with getting the whole mess whacked off and letting the gray take over.

Then I remember what that means - haircuts every 4 to 6 weeks. Yuck and Ick. I cannot bear salons, hair cutteries, or barbers. Waste of money is what that means.

The thing with my hair being so long, and me being so old, is that style is not the thing. I wash my hair every two or three weeks. At times, even every four weeks. If the scalp feels icky in between shampoos, I spritz vinegar onto the head and hair.

I wear my hair up all of the time, which protects the ends. (My hair is thin but healthy.) It also makes me appear taller. (Almost tall enough for my weight. Ha ha.) It is incredibly easy to care for. And so, I never convince myself to cut it all off.

But I think about it.

Twist to Open

more music charts

Cat is watching. Or is not. Or maybe is watching.

Do Something Cool. Recycle.

Homegirl to friend: So she was like "oh, my name's Diamond. And this is my sister, her name's Ruby. Our daddy named us after stuff he can't afford." I was like, shit, if that was the case, my daddy woulda call us "lights" and "gas."

Or in my case, "Fun" and "Happiness."

Courtesy of Overheard in New York. Dot com.

Help Wanted

So.

Today I took the plunge and got two cell phones and high-speed broadband for the computer. Jeesus Chreist, was there anxiety. Or whut? Yes, there was.

Sweetie and I have been tossing this, "Hey, let's get rid of the land line and get cell phones, and ALSO let's get high speed broadband interwebs!" idea around for months. Because we are paying for our land line, to the tune of $45 a month, because we must have Caller ID. (You know, stalker and crazy people that like to harass me.) Plus $15 a month for dial up internet access. Plus around $18 a month for long distance. Which includes our 1-800 number so his mom-n-em can call us on our dime.

That is $78 a month. And that would be okay if the dial up hadn't drowned in molasses ever since the remnants of Hurricane Ike blew through. Now, I am paying $78 a month for seriously depleted internet happiness.

More back story: I have been researching cell phones and wireless internet access for a month. The thing I discovered was, that if one has dial up (such outdated crap!) one is doomed to much knitting or housework while waiting for some stupid, image heavy, worthless page to load. And forget about Utube videos. Don't have the time. Thirty minutes of distracted anticipation for a minute of stupidity. Nuh uh.

So. We will see if the new thing works. If it does, my email will change, but otherwise - all else should be just the same.

No known cures

Here is a link to more info.

Some distortion may occur

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Kangaroo, crippled goat, and MORE! Ends happily.

Do Not Remove Tag

It was below 32 degrees last night, cold enough that the barn bunnies' water was frozen this morning. Guess summer is over. Ya think? About freaking time.

Frozen bunny bottles is never way-loads-o'-fun. Sometimes, I have enough bottles to fill them all inside and then merely replace the frozen ones. And other times, I don't. And that means bringing in frozen bottles, thawing them out, refilling, then taking the bucket o' bottles back to the barn. It usually takes two trips to get everybody taken care of. It also means that I get my exercise. So not is all bad.

All of the buns are handling the colder temperatures well. Even the lovely Ginger, whom I clipt on Monday. I am making a conscious effort to keep their quarters clean and free from ammonia fumes. Now that my asthma is under control and I can actually sweep and shovel without keeling over.

Did I report that I bred Virginia to Walter, my new couple? Ginnie is obviously pregnant. She and Walter are a cute couple. They snuggle, lick, and otherwise get along.

Heizen is exceedingly jealous of other house bunnies, as a rule. However, we have moved his usual abode (litterbox) from the kitchen to the pantry and so, he seems not totally pissed that this couple is in the living room. In a cage. Also, there is now no rug in the living room for him to piss on. So, as long as the Heizen is happy, we are happy.

I am still awork at the new afghan. Although I did rip out all the connective tissue this morning. I wasn't happy at all with the technique I was using. So much for being free from the tyranny of the square! More when I can take photos.

Beware of Poisonous Fumes

So. We have at last gotten rid of The Baby-Bunny Killing Cat!

Baby bunnies disappeared at an unnatural rate this year. There would be 8 babies under the church, then 6, then 3, and then none. Our own, under the house, bunnies disappeared in a similar manner. Little Frankie was the only one I was able to save from Ramsey's last litter. More than 30 kits were taken in all. It took us the longest time to zero in on the culprit, then it took a week more to capture the thing.

It was a beautiful creature. Solid black with emerald eyes. Also, feral to the nth degree. I mean, teeth and fangs and not human friendly at all.

As much as I (mentally) wanted to strangle it, after it was caught in the live trap, we released it several miles away in a Nature Conservancy.

And that means that maybe Jackie Brown's new litter may survive! I have seen 5 so far, living under Good Neighbor Nancy's building next door. Cute little black, tan, blk/wht and tan/wht kits.

Every single time I see a new little baby, I am filled with joy! Like an aunt or grandmama would be. I'm such a sap.

KL asked about Goober's backstory. Not much to it. I saw an ad at the feed store for a free angora, and I called the number right away. The owners had other rabbits, but didn't know how care for a fuzzy bunny. He's a small, brownish gray fellow, with lop ears. Nice enough disposition, but he's never going to give me much wool. I'm hoping to maybe find him a good home somewhere as a pet. Sweetie would like to breed him to Claudia, our netherland dwarf. Dr. Moreau and all that.

Bake at 350.

Check out their new mayor.

No salt, MSG, artificial color or flavoring added.

Here are a few shots from my stint at NAILE (North American International Livestock Exposition.)





The booth is a cooperative effort of about 8 fiber women, and we are all taking our turns at staffing the booth. I have worked there for two days and will help with the break down. (Because I am so good at that. Shut up.)

Lots o' cowboys and cowgirls. Who knew that there was such a thing a horse jewelry? I mean, jewelry for horses? Met an older fellow who bragged that he had been in every jail in West Virginia. As an inspector! Haha. And an entrepreneur from Missouri with a great business plan (U go Grl! I hope to post about you next year,) and some spinners and knitters and other friendly folk. It's not been a bad way to spend a couple of days. (Except that I had to detour around a horrific traffic wreck involving five vehicles this morning. Two fatalities and several injured. That sort of awful thing just messes with me.) (Please don't let me die that way!)

Let us end on an up note with the latest rescue bunny named Goober.

Do no incinerate

For the wine dork in all of us.

The website is interesting at times, but the recent toilet paper roll cum pencil holder doesn't even rate to be in the Workbasket magazine.

Sealed for your protection

Actual knitting and fiber stuff to report. I knoooow!

Amidst all of the bunny stuff that fills my days, I have slowly been chugging away on two projects. One is another afghan, again with mostly handspun. I've completed these twelve log cabin blocks, and I have dyed some KnitPicks worsted weight wool a dark gray to make all the connective bits and the border.



While I was waiting for that yarn to dry, I picked up this shawl that I have been fiddling with for a couple of weeks. I used Cherry Hill Baby Loop mohair (maybe 500 yards) and size 10.5 needles.



I began at the point and used the washcloth pattern of a yarn over increase at the beginning of every row. On random rows I increased at both edges and/or increased two stitches in the body. Then I increased on both edges every row and sometimes two stitches in the body.

When the long edge was about 60 inches, or about 180 stitches, I (k1, yarn over-ed) all across the long edge, making about 360 stitches. One row plain. Another increase row, this time k2, yo. 540 stitches. Two rows plain. Again with the increase row, but this time I k3, then knit through the front and back of the next stitch. I think that makes close to 675 stitches, give or take. I did not actually count.

All I had were 24" circulars in the right size and it was getting crowded, so, two more plain rows were followed by a crocheted bind off. Like the afghan blocks, it was all garter stitch - all the time. I have needed me some vanilla (mindless) knitting lately.

I think it looks pretty damn cool, if'ns I do say so myself. The point folds over at the back and becomes the center back of the collar. Very becoming.




The North American International Livestock Exposition is in Louisville for the next two weeks. Blue Acorn, Hippy Art Chick, Victoria of Southern Indiana FiberArts Festival, little ol' me, and others, have joined in the cooperative effort to staff and stock two booths (at great expense, let me tell ya,) in the West Wing. I'll be in the booth two days this week and will try to get some photos for you all. It's kinda a big event, from what I hear.

May be too intense for some viewers.

A knitted Couch with Dust Bunnies!

Parental advisory - explicit lyrics.

Wot the bloody 'ell???

As Seen on TV

Whenever I am carding, I save every little bit of fluff. That and wads of this and the other end up in a big bucket. Eventually, I spin a bobbin full. Here it is before washing.

These are four of the yard bunnies. From top to bottom: Little Gray, Blondie, Ramsey, and Smoky.

Colors may fade.

Even though I have identified myself as a democrat all my life, I do not hate republicans. Sweetie was a republican when I met him. He had voted for Reagan in '80 and '84. I didn't vote at all until '92. He was also younger than me, had short hair, and was ex-military. Anathema!

Sometimes I wonder why I am a democrat. I don't remember my parents voting at all. I do recall some literature that was sent home with us from church, I think the group was called SECUS or something like that. Very radically conservative, practically equated sex education with devil worship. Even at the time, I thought it was a lot of boloney.

I remember Bobby Kennedy's 1968 visit to my hometown in Indiana, via train. He was on his way to California that summer. His train went past my house. And even though I was only 11, in my heart and soul, I knew that he should be our leader.

1968 was a hard year for me.

But anyway. I loved Sweetie in spite of his politics. He has voted democrat since 1992, bless his heart. This is not my party, he said of Bush I and II. The republicans have caved in to the religious right. Where is the fiscal responsibility? Where is the small government? Where is the non-interference in private life? Where are the Real Republicans?

I don't love all democrats, because some of them are greedy and evil. Power does corrupt. I admit that. But, to me, a democrat means looking out for the little guy. The poor and weak. Us. Being a democrat means that we help each other. To me, I have always thought that being a republican meant looking out for #1. Exploiting the stupid sucker that didn't know any better. Where's the love?

All actors are over 18 years of age

scha·den·freu·de     (shäd'n-froi'də)
n.   Pleasure derived from the misfortunes of others.

[German : Schaden, damage (from Middle High German schade, from Old High German scado) + Freude, joy (from Middle High German vreude, from Old High German frewida, from frō, happy).]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I spend karma points whenever I experience the above emotion. I am usually empathetic. I try to walk in other people's shoes. Really. Rallly, I dew.

But today, I feel schadenfreude for all those nice people that have sported Bush/Cheney bumperstickers for the last eight years, and the McCain/Palin - NoBama bumperstickers and yard signs recently. I am happy that they are sad.

Also, my stalker friend with the no-contact order had his house totally burgled last month. Every thing was stolen from his gated compound. His dog was chloroformed and no one paid attention to his honking watch geese. I am gleeful that this crazy man, this paranoid, this authority-hating man was stricken.

He has no idea at all how much he harmed, how much he stole from me.

Maybe this is only some slightly delayed Instant Karma for him.

This is not an official blog of the US Government

“We're all in this thing alone.” ~ Lily Tomlin

Watched The US vs. John Lennon on video last night, and by the end I was gently crying. The thing is, pond scum Nixon ain't got nuthin' on ol' Bushie. People younger than me, (I'm almost 52,) have no idea how exciting and scary, how hopeful yet dreadful the early seventies were. But at least people came out to protest in droves back then. And The Hoove! Don't get me started!

Woke up this morning sick to my stomach and full of anxiety, after a night filled with generic anxiety dreams. Are the Democrats actually going to win this time? Even though Karl Rove thinks we will. (Excuse me, but are Rove and Cheney candidates for separated at birth twins?)

I will be voting tomorrow, and spending the meantime keeping as busy as possible.

Tonight, because I am a masochist, I plan to watch Billy Pilgrim in Slaughterhouse 5.

Bring to a Boil Sowly

WoolyWorm, (where is your web site?) I purchased the new bunnies from from a local woman that I met at the Corydon Fiber Festival.

None of my bunnies have "papers," and have never worried about it. I breed my babies for wool first and then temperament. I have, in the past, bought two rabbits that were registered and they turned out to be big disappointments. One had crappy wool and was a total psycho and the other grew up to be small, yet sweet guy, who had limited wool output. I say, "Fuck the so called papered pedigreed lapine." Yet, I did tend these two guys. It's not their fault.

I thank you for sending Susan at the Spinning Bunny my way! It has turned out to be a good deal for everyone involved. She has just received 48, one ounce batts from Fuzzarelly, and I trust some of them will turn up on her website.

Thank you, Luna and Knitting Linguist, for your Goddess comments. I think the potato is wonderful and wish I could preserve her somehow. Any ideas?

The previous post was about five abandoned horses. Four of them still live and are being well cared for. It seems that some people cannot afford to feed these long-lived creatures, and so drop them off in rural areas. I despair when when I hear these stories. I cannot take on caring for a horse, but I can help feed one.

If you can give a little bit to just buy them hay, please do it. I gave $25 via PayPal.