As promised

See, here's the Widge enjoying the Renaissance Fest. Isn't he cute? We had a great time, saw the jousting and Hack and Slash again, and walked and walked and walked...anyway, big fun and everybody should go.

Meanwhile, yesterday we went apple-picking, and that was great, and the day before was a trip to the farm/park to visit tractors. Widge had little or no interest in the cow milking, or watching the pigs get weighed. His true love is tractors, and he's very loyal. Ah, the romance of youth.

On the kids show front, the other day Donald was in a balloon race, and he somehow managed to get his balloon up too high, and ended up in outer space. In a hot air balloon. And while you ponder that, here's how he got down: he found a baby elephant, who was heavy enough to weigh the balloon back down to a normal range. Yes, after escaping the Earth's atmosphere in a balloon, he conjured up an elephant, to make the balloon heavy. In outer space.

So for those of you whose heads haven't exploded, more about the knitting. Before the Widge (B.W.) I had all sorts of time to knit, and I had no worries about knitting delicate lace, or handwash-only yarns. Now if I want to knit anything less sturdy than dishrags, I have to plot to knit in the evening, or during naptime, or in some stealthy location. If I were an alcoholic trying to hide it, I'd go through the same sort of contortions. Anyway, a while ago I said that I was working on something, and I am, I'm knitting a bag of bags. I've made a sort of "yarn" out of those annoying plastic grocery-store bags that everyone has a pile of, and I'm knitting a re-usable bag out of them. Yup, I'm all environmentally conscious now. I even use cloth diapers (its really just because Widge gets rashes). I wonder, however, if the extra laundry offsets the not throwing away diapers. Anyway, the bag project is a great opportunity to use up some bags, although I got a big donation of bags from mom, so I may be worse off than when I started. The thing is, plastic yarn isn't fun to knit with. There are knitters in the world who refuse to use the acrylic that you get in Wal-mart, because they think its too plastic-y. It also doesn't breath, so if you knit socks or a sweater or something you'll certainly be warm, and probably sweaty too, but it also doesn't get stretched out, can go in the wash, and your finished garment will last forever. Anyway, actual plastic is thicker and some bags are really stiff, which makes the knitting go slowly. I think the result is going to be good, though. But I've been seeing lately that plastic bottles are getting recycled into carpeting and polar fleece, and I wonder: can plastic bags be recycled into nice yarn? I challenge yarn producers to find a way to do this. I'll mail you my extra bags, and I'm sure I'm not the only one.

And yes, thats me with the King and the Widge.

Where is Fall?

This portion of the year, this time in which Mother Nature packs the worst of her heat and humidity, this is truly the year's seasonal armpit. What a miserable time, weather-wise. I hate that sweaty feeling: that's why I don't exercise more. It's like a little taste of the underworld, what with the bugs and the crushing humidity and the ragweed. Of course the tiny dictator who woke me up at 5:45 this morning isn't helping. I'm pretty sure Satan brings the damned unidentifiable bits of whatever, shouts "Do!" at them, and then shrieks if they can't correctly use the objects within 12 seconds. I'm guessing Curious George can't save you from eternal torment, either.

Yesterday evening, Mini-Mussolini wanted bubbles, but for some reason bubble solutions have weakened since my youth. Luckily Gramma and I found an acceptable substitute: we dumped the bubble solution in the pool. Photos of the Widge Meringue coming eventually.

Also coming eventually: photos of our second trip to the Renaissance, in which we meet the king. I'll talk more about that when the photos arrive. I truly believe the horrid weather is to blame for the general lack of productivity. Misery, thy name is September!

Lest you think me paranoid

the safety inspection people arrived today...while I was in the bathroom. Luckily I woke Mark up just in case. Anyway it turned out not to be too bad, although the one inspector apparently needed the entire apartment office staff to escort him.

Also: I finished both the quilted tablerunner and the Hemingway book, which was good, except I think the author tried to go for style a bit too much. I don't mind a bit of it, but the book was littered with passages like: "the family photos gaze up at you, sepia-toned moments in time; a family in transition." That sort of thing belongs in novels. Lately I've been reading a lot about knitting, but not really reading alot at all, mostly working and sewing and watching George. Tomorrow the Widge and I are going back to the Renaissance Festival, that should be fun.

See Skippy babble. Not a very interesting post, so here comes the action: I hit a car the other day. But for the action portion of the post, there isn't really much action. I was backing the truck out at our parking lot and I dinged the car next to me. Our parking lot is full of crappy cars, including one that has a door duct-taped shut, and apparently keeps the drivers door closed using bungee cords. But I had to ding a mustang. I'm happy to report that the Fauquier County deputy was very nice.

Yarn!

I have new yarn! This is when I really need my camera, to show you all the glory of new wonderful yarn. I went to my new LYS (thats local yarn store, for you non-yarn-types): My Favorite Yarn Shop. They had alpacas there, much to the Widge's delight. He insisted they were bears, but eventually managed to almost say "alpaca." He just saw a photo of his uncle, the Boy, and told me: "Vroooom!" I asked if thats what Uncle The Boy says, and he repeated: "vroooom!" So uncles go vroom. Bendy skeletons growl, apparently. And bears, so he tells me, walk around saying" bear, bear, bear." Giraffes also say their name as they walk around, and zebras just stomp stomp stomp. Motherhood has really taught me alot about the natural world. My knowledge now approaches that of Pliny the Elder. Widge hasn't started explaining the uses of powdered rhino horn, or the eating habits of winged dragons, but I'll keep you posted.

Regarding some of the fine comments you've left (all three of you who read the blog):
Nick: no, I don't own Karate Kid, much to the husband's dismay, but it comes on the TV alot.

and Nat, who hasn't commented: I changed the settings for comments so you should be able to leave one now.

Got a copy of Vogue Knitting. Their patterns are certainly more fashion-conscious than Interweave's, but there are always some intriguing ideas. I was just interrupted mid-sentence by a toddler who dragged me to the TV chanting: "George, George, George!" Which leads to the next thought: remember how I said that PBS should put Curious George in the 7:30 time-slot, opposite Higglytown Heros? Well now it is! The hero today, by the way, was the camel.

oh good, its football season again

I like football just fine. I like Penn State, and I'll like VTech when the Boy gets on the field. But I don't like football season. Possibly because I live with a man who truly believes that Penn State cannot win unless he is personally watching them. Since not every game is broadcast here (like this week's game: Penn State vs St. Scholastica girls preschool), this leads to contortions as he searches for webcasts, or local alumni association meetings where they somehow manage to get the game. Then we watch whatever other football is on, for good measure. I can't even escape to my parents house, because everyone knows Spud loves to watch football of any type. If he can't watch actual football, he wants to watch the pre-game analysis. Or the post-game wrap-up. Or the middle-of-the-week, theres-no-reason-for-it-but-lets-discuss-football specials. Besides, my folks are now in the season of regular pilgrimages to the shrine of St. Beamer, so I can escape to their house: in fact I have to, in order to let their annoying dog out 800 times, and try to keep the Widge from destroying things. Last time they went, the Widge emptied all bookshelves while I was getting the dog fresh water. Somehow the dog who drinks from mudpuddles outside shuns any but the cleanest water inside. I don't really like petsitting, and football season brings a lot of petsitting.

Today, however, I'll be going along cheerfully to my petsitting duties, because my home is going to be invaded. We won the random selection lottery, so the VA department of something or other is coming to inspect our house on the 7th. Some time before that, there will be a walk-through, and today the apartment company is doing a pre-inspection inspection. The subject, as their note helpfully explained, is "all aspects of safety." As many of you know, I've done some safety-related work, and as I gaze around my home while considering "all aspects of safety," I'm somewhat alarmed. I can only assume their concern will be the safety of the actual apartment, rather than my personal safety habits. I assume I'm entitled to little trucks all over the floor, since I pay my rent on time. What really bothers me is the number of people who have access to my home. When I was going to work, I didn't mind as much, but right around the time the Widge was born, I started to get annoyed. These apartment people just show up, without concern for whether the baby is sleeping, or being nursed, or if mom is in the shower. They knock briefly, but its a formality: they have the key, and they're coming in.

I think the real problem here is me. The apartment people leave me a note, and the paranoia begins. They don't even give me a time range, like: between 10 and 2. They just give me the date, and I'm left to imagine when they'll arrive. In my imagination, its either just when I get the Widge to drift off for his nap, or else while he's napping peacefully, and I'm enjoying a nice, hot shower. Worse, the husbun worked last night, so he's sprawled in bed, in his little boxers, snoring. No doubt I'll have to rush in to get him the wake up and put some clothes on when these inspectors show up. Apartment living is just too stressful for me.

New Teeth!

Yes, we have two new molars at our house! The poor Widge has two molars coming in at once: synchronized teething, so you can imagine the crabbiness we've had here. In spite of that, he's been fairly cheerful and well behaved, and he's starting to talk somewhat understandably.

I think I have the allergies, because I've had this sort of runny nose going on, and general sleepiness which is possibly from the allergy meds. "Non-drowsy," is what they want you to think. Or maybe I just don't tolerate drugs very well. I could never be a drug addict (although I am addicted to a few other things: coffee, tea, yarn, fabric, books, and fancy soap). Speaking of addictions: new sewing project: pirate costume! Well, its really a generic medieval/Renaissance/colonial outfit to be used for halloween, festivals, parades, and other events. But I'm adding a few touches that will give it pirate flair, because I love pirate flair. Confused as to how one outfit can cover over 400 years of historical costuming? Its all about layering. I'll post pics when I'm done, I promise.

get thee to the faire!

Yup, we went to the famous Maryland Renaissance Festival yesterday! I, personally, have been to a number of medieval-type festivals and events of various sorts, all in Europe, home of the actual Middle Ages and Renaissance. In fact except for yesterday, all the medieval-type events I've attended have taken place at authentic medieval sites, like a castle, a walled city, another castle...you get the idea. But I wholeheartedly endorse Maryland's Renaissance Festival for a great historical experience. Also heavy on the comedy, and not just because of the grown men wandering around in tights, either. If you go, be sure to check out the Hack and Slash show, notable for their great jokes, beer-swilling, sword fighting, and the fact that we saw them twice. Even the Widge seemed to enjoy them, or at least it seemed that way, because he wasn't trying to chop things down with his wooden sword during the entire show (during the joust, on the other hand, that clump of dirt took a serious beating. It'll think twice before hanging around insolently, or being taller than the surrounding clumps of dirt, ever again). The Widge, by the way, is afraid of free pony rides. He liked watching the ponies, but he screamed whenever he got close to them. (its worth noting that I spelled both "renaissance," and "medieval" correctly on my own, but I would have misspelled "afraid" if not for spell-check.)

The music was great, we saw the king himself, and several of his people running around, the food was good, and they have elephants, so what's not to love? We did take pictures, but on a little disposable camera we hastily bought at CVS on the way out there. I'm on the verge of putting out an APB on my camera. I think there may be a worm hole somewhere in the apartment: we've lost at least three significant items in the seven weeks or so we've lived here. Perhaps the Widge is selling them on the black market while he's supposed to be napping. The infrequency of naps explains why only three items are missing. I wonder if he has some new, pimped-out matchbox cars anywhere: that would be the tell-tale sign. If I find a matchbox car with a hot-tub and wide screen TV, I promise I'll find a way to post pictures.

I read my knitting magazine, and it was wonderful: like an ice-cold beer on a hot day. There was a great article about cables: I love the look of cables, but I just never knit any. Maybe I will now. Anyway, it really got me back in a knitting frame of mind, and I feel innovative, so I started a daring new project. I'll write more about it if it works. If not, I'll delete this paragraph and replace it with a review of our Curious George DVD. I love George. He's the only thing that lets spend a few quiet moments in the bathroom alone. For those of you contemplating parenthood, or any life-style other than one of strict abstinence, re-read that last sentence. My ability to answer the call of nature without an audience relies entirely on a fictional monkey. Now, doesn't the convent seem more appealing?