Dear Mr. Donaldson,

I felt compelled to write and let you know that I have finally found a use for the algebra equations you taught us in ninth grade. I am sure you recall my telling you, “It will be a cold day in Hell before I will ever use algebra.” You will be pleased to know that it is a brisk 10 degrees outside today. You see, I decided to knit a sock. Not just any sock, but one custom-fitted to my foot.

I first picked out my yarn and needles and then sat down with the instructor to start knitting. Imagine my surprise when she starting writing down an algebraic equation to determine how many stitches I would need to cast on. I shouted, “Get out! That’s algebra!” To which she gave me a startled look as if to say, “Well, yeah, duh” and the other students actually had to shield their eyes from the brightness of the light bulb that had blinked on over my head.

Oh sure, I’ve done mental math to figure things out all my life. I’ve even designed things like buildings and spent several years in drafting class. But I honest to goodness, during all the 27 years since your class, had never made the connection between the equations you made us copy over and over and over on paper to an actual practical purpose. Ever.

So I am writing to suggest that from now on, you ask your students to knit socks. Just think of how much of a difference it could have made in my life. I might have been a rocket scientist or a brain surgeon.

Okay, maybe not, but you know what I mean.

Okay Knitters, Help Me Out Here

What is this woman wearing and where might I find a pattern for it? I have spent three days searching Ravelry and have found something similar but still not quite right.

They Didn’t Even Miss Me

I guess maybe you can trust a smiling goat. “I told you I would take care of everything”, said Daisy.

 

The retreat was fabulous, I had a great time. They do such a wonderful job of feeding you and making you comfortable at Camp Camby it is hard to leave. I mean who doesn’t love not having to cook or clean?  Angela was a wonderful hostess, she and her sisters are so warm and welcoming everyone instantly felt at ease. It was great to meet so many blogging friends. I even have a new BFF, she’s only five but we didn’t let the age difference bother us. I am glad Milah talked me into going a year ago.

It might have been quiet here on the homestead over the weekend but it was a wild and wooly weekend for me. I’m now a hooker! We visited a beautiful rug hooking shop owned by Bev Stewart in Clayton, Indiana. I made this mug rug, which I think looks a lot like Dorothy. When I called home and told the engineer I was learning to be a hooker he calmly replied, “I sure hope we’re talking about rugs, otherwise Milah has some ‘splaining to do.”

It was technically a quilting retreat but I never even touched a quilt. I didn’t tackle the costume project either. I did a lot of knitting. I also worked on a few wool appliqué projects. I stuffed this pincushion with some of the 500 lbs of wool I have in the barn. I figure 40,000 more of these and I’ll start to make a dent in it.

I also finished this wall hanging, now I just need to frame it.

 

While I was working on it Milah reminded me that I never showed you the finished product of the wool quilt I was working on. I’ve had it done, framed and hanging in the family room since spring.

Can’t wait to go back and do it all again next year! Now back to reality… the toilets need scrubbing.

Never Trust a Smiling Goat

“Go have fun on  your retreat. I’ll take care of everything around here”, said Daisy. Then she batted her eyes.

This can’t be good.

Playing Dress-Up, Laura Ingalls Style

Me at age twoish. I still have this dress.

Me at age sevenish. I wish I still had that lunch pail.

Me at age 29ish *wink*. In grandmother’s skirt.

No offense to Grandma, but I nearly froze to death in her skirt during the Covered Bridge Festival. So I’ve been hitting the sales to pick up period appropriate fabrics to make a more appropriate costume. I’ve chosen wool and silk for a cloak and reproduction calico and muslin for a dress and apron. I also found a pair of old glasses at an antique mall.

Now all I need is a fairy godmother with a magic wand to turn all this into something beautiful, because I don’t have a clue what I am doing! The last time I sewed a garment I was in junior high. I keep telling myself it can’t be that difficult. Then I open the pattern, start to panic and then fold it back up and put it away. Garment construction is a completely different thing than quilting. I’m not sure I’ve got what it takes, but I’m heading out this week for a quilting retreat and some of the ladies have promised to provide moral support. I think I’ll start with the cloak; it has fewer pieces. Or maybe I’ll procrastinate some more and just knit a shawl.

The Time Has Come

The barn has a new roof. The hay is stacked and ready. The chicken coop is cleaner than the house. It’s time. The final fall prep is to trim hooves and get the girls ready for winter. By that I mean trimming their derriere a little to prevent dung tags, which can look pretty gross.

I asked Laverne, “Wouldn’t you like a nice pedicure and bikini wax? All the young girls are doing it.”

She then turned and asked Sophia, “What is a bikini wax?”

Sophia replied and then Laverne turned back to me and said, “Try it and die.”

Looks like I’m not going in again without that helmet.

Not by the Hair of my Chinny, Chin, Chin

 

Seems all of my little boys are growing up and getting goatees. *sniff*