w.b.w.

simplicity pattern #1949, most likely from 1957.

those faces melt my heart.

what a weekend...w.a.w.

long weekends are always delicious, but this one seemed even more fabulous. i love it when the weather is not too hot (i don't really like a.c.) and you can sleep with a sheet covering you up with the fan blowing lilting night breezes over you. it makes me drift right off to dreamland.

so let's see, here's the rundown:

a little road trip and three hours of uninterrupted knitting time. i was able to finish up the yoke/sleeves of this. the next time i undertake a sweater project using dk weight yarn, in stockingnette stitch, however lovely and soft the fiber, please punch me in my arm and remind me of how neverending knit one row, purl one row can seem. i've cast on the 224 stitches for the bottom and calculated that i have nearly 20,000 stitches to go before i can even sew in the ends, block and seam it up. but it will be fabulous when it's finished. i promise to blog about it in 2009.

on the way home from the mini road trip, we visited a few antique stores/malls. we had amazing luck. i don't know about the rest of you that antique/thrift, but it seems like my luck comes in waves. perhaps it's that i look in a different way on those days. whatever it is, i am glad when luck visits me.

on saturday night we went to the roller derby. yes, you read that correctly...the ROLLER DERBY. it was a blast. for a brief moment, i thought i could be a roller girl, but, to be honest, i am just not that tough. this is a real game/sport and these women are playing for keeps. it does have a touch of the bizarre to it. the team members have crazy pun-ny names. so kelly and i cracked each other up coming up with all of the possibilities for my roller derby names. ran into my cousin, an acquaintance and the friend who introduced us. when worlds collide it's a wonderful thing.

took a class on sunday with the fun, funny, funky and fresh donna downey. what a great gal she is...and my classmates were great too. thanks to bev for sharing her tools with me!

on sunday there was more thrift store love and then i watched this movie and now am coveting this soundtrack. and the music that plays over the credits...love you by free design...it is my newest, favoritest song ever.

i missed pat benatar playing here, but the forecast for rain scared me off. but i did go downtown for this and the good luck continued. had a delicious linner (lunch + dinner = linner) here with a fab dessert of their famous sticky toffee pudding. "what's my favorite food? easy! sticky toffee pudding -- sincerely." (double points if you know what movie that quote is [sort of] from...kelly you don't get to play along.)

so that was it...very little housework. not nearly enough prep for the upcoming garage sale, but much relaxing.

tomorrow, a new twist on an old favorite...mixing it up on way back wednesday. see you then...i promise.

well, of course...

we've lived in our house for 17 years. right after we moved in i got a book of advice and how-tos for first time homeowners from the library. i don't remember much about this book other than this: anything that you want to do your home needs to be done in the first two years after you move in or you will never do it. how true.

when we first moved in, we had a newborn and a strict budget. that combination of circumstances meant that after we paid to have the hardwood floors refinished and painted the interior, our time and money were gone. thank goodness we knew lots of people willing to be paid for their manual labor in pizza and beer.

since those first salad days, we have done a fair number of updates to the house, mostly interior things, but recently, i've been busy in the yard. in the past i haven't done too much. this was in no small part due to the fact that my neighbor has a very ugly back yard, strewn with cast off, broken down little tykes goods (her daughters are into double digit ages now, far past the developmental stage for plastic play houses), rusty swing sets, a giant trampoline, two run down homemade dog houses, three broken barbecue pits, a deteriorating picnic table, countless trash cans and innumerable bicycles. she also seems to think that taking out one's trash, cleaning up after one's dogs or mowing one's lawn are tasks that only need be performed quarterly. so, beautifying my yard felt a bit like an exercise in futility.

something in me has snapped, though, and i am dedicating much of my time to creating a living environment (inside and surrounding my home) that reflects who and what i am.

there have been many discussions of late in the queen's household about change and what that change may signify. remember? hair length...tatooes and the like? so the hair has been shortened (i'm heading to short hair by degrees) and i've decided on a tatoo, but am waiting for a particularly significant anniversary to mark my body (more on that later). and, of course, all of that thinking lead to even more thinking.

i started to ponder what holds me back from doing the things i so often wish i was doing or hope for. often, in more ways than one, i was holding other people responsible for my contentment. "if only so and so didn't feel "X-way" then i could do {fill in the blank}. but you know what? that's just not fair.

if i love roses and forsythia and hydrangeas and azaleas and peonies, and i want to be able to cut them for a bouquet in my dining room, then it's up to me to plant then, water them, tend to them and arrange them. i refuse to wait until my neighbor cleans up her act, because that will mean that i may die before getting a garden that i love.

if i want the basement cleared out of my junk (yea, hi, there, kelly, you can use this entry against me sometime in the future when i say that it isn't ALL my junk...i know it is), then that's on me. same with cleaning the basement floor and painting it...if i'm the only one in the family that it bothers, then it's my job to do something about it.

ditto for painting the bathroom, reorganizing the hallway linen closet, culling my closet for out-of-date clothes. i have to take care of me and my stuff. that's not anyone else's responsibility.

because, here's the harsh reality about this "aha" moment...i am the only one ultimately on the hook for my own happiness. wishing that someone else could read my mind or figure out what it is that i desire just breeds resentment. i can make myself happy and if a trellis covered with trumpet vine makes me smile then i need to get my hands dirty and plant one.

wandering, part 2...

i mentioned that i might have an issue with concentration. it really takes me a while to quiet the constant chatter that is going on in my brain at any given moment and focus in on what needs my undivided attention.

so to sit through (and not fall asleep) an almost three hour documentary about french monks who toil daily in complete silence, well, it was a challenge. the viewing was almost like meditation. the opening scene is a tight profile of a monk's head, resting on his clasped hands...he is deep in prayer. the scene went on, uninterrupted, un-cut for nearly three minutes. every sound in the theatre was magnified. the scuttle of hands in popcorn bags, the crunching of the popcorn, coughing, sniffing, shoe shuffling. apparently it took all of the patrons to settle into the silence.

scene after languishing scene...red flickering candle, raindrops in ponds, grass blowing in the breeze, lyrics of latin chants, snow falling onto the camera lens, celery stalks lying on the butcher block waiting to be chopped, boxes of ivory buttons.

when i had seen the preview for this movie, i had thought there would be a narrator -- a voice to explain the mysterious life these men had chosen for themselves, but no. complete silence, save for perhaps 50 words spoken in french on the monk's one day they are allowed to speak -- sunday.

their heads were so often bowed in prayer, it was unimaginable to me. i am not a religious person, but just the thought of immersing myself in deep thought (on any topic) for hours upon hours seemed like a insidious form of torture. however, witnessing this cloistered life in such poetic, voyeuristic detail was amazing.

i felt a sense of calm when i left the theatre. others, who shall remain unnamed, felt refreshed--as though they had taken a 3 hour nap.

what if...

i love the look of tattoos...no, seriously, i do. at the bookstore last night i saw a man with a spiderweb tattoo that spread out across his elbow. i thought it elegant. i also adore the "sleeves" of tattoos. to me they demonstrate such dedication to the beauty of the art form and often they tell a story about the person. what an imaginative use of one's own body to express themselves.

the waiter at the restaurant i ate lunch at had his eyebrow and his lower lip pierced...perhaps not my cup of tea, but it was definitely an interesting look -- a look that made a statement.

i've had long hair for at least the last ten years. i wear it long because i'm a wash and go kinda gal -- short hair needs a lot of attention, trimming and maintenance for it to look good all the time. but also i keep my hair long because kelly likes it long.

kelly doesn't like tattoos...or piercings. i respect all of those preferences, the same way he respects my preferences for no perms on men, tighty whities, speedos or hair pieces. it's a simplistic understanding.

but i do wonder how i would look, what i would choose to say to the world, if i had never met kelly.

i know i would have tattoos...at least one, probably more. the first one i would get would be wings on my back, big wingspan with feathers trickling down to the waistband of my blue jeans.

somewhere i would get a tattoo of a bird. one of my grandfathers had a blue bird on his upper arm. he got it sometime in the 1920's i suppose, before tattoos were fashionable and i'm sure there was a bit of a stigma attached to it. his tattoo went completely against my childhood image of him -- eating ice cream, making tomato soup with ham sandwiches and playing pinochle and yahtzee...yes, there would definitely be a bird...or two.

i would get my nose pierced...one of those tee-niny little diamond studs on the side. i love those.

and, i've said this for ages, but if i could, i would shave my head...maybe not down to the skin, but for sure less than an inch long. i shaved my head in college and it was liberating...that was before i wore makeup everyday or shaved my legs or wore dresses because i wanted to. i mean, come on, i was a women's studies major. i did it then because it was what i thought i was supposed to do. now i would do it because i want to. and that's more to the point anyway, right?

so all that thinking about how i would look lead me to think about how i might act differently, what i would have ended up being.

i know i would probably drink a lot more. maybe smoke (i know, i know. but when i did smoke, i really liked it). i'm smarter now than i was back then, so maybe not smoking. but definitely, yes, i would drink more.

i'm an impulsive person, impatient and into instant gratification. kelly is the tortoise in the race. he rarely, if ever, makes decisions he later regrets. mostly because he considers every angle of a situation and then does the analysis again to make sure he hasn't missed anything. something i admire greatly. i am a point and shoot quick-draw decider. in the long run, we balance each other out, but if left to my own devices, i know i would have moved a million times, regretted many things, but made so many other decisions in the meantime, that most of the missteps would have been forgotten and lost in my considerable wake.

i don't know if i would have had children. kelly is the only person i could ever imagine parenting with, because we are of such a like mind. i knew instantly that kelly would be a great father, even before he knew it himself and that is part of what drew me to him. so, no, i don't think i would have had children.

kelly makes me happier than i ever imagined i could be, or ever thought i deserved to be. much of my now well-adjusted-ness is due in no small part to kelly's persistence in helping me see what good dwelled inside of me and bringing that goodness out. so, although, if i had never met kelly, my outward appearance would be different, inside i would be sadder...definitely lonelier...more meandering and hapless.

so i'll forego the tats, and piercings and deal with a long head of hair to be more content and settled. i think it's a good trade-off.

160, 72, 40, 30, 8...

did you ever take a one of those IQ tests? the ones where they give you a string of numbers and you have to figure out the pattern and what the next number will be?

the title of this post is not one of those quiz questions...

it is the amounts of each type of flower i planted yesterday afternoon.

160 impatiens
72 of some yellow spiky flowers
40 red spiky flowers
30 red geraniums
8 weather tough yellow marigolds

see, i'm not so good with anything other than the most pedestrian plants.

other new items...10 bags of potting soil, 9 new two-foot long planters, 1 bag of river pebbles and 1 new soaker hose.

now, i need 1 manicure...

nathaniel, chance, c.j....

this photo was taken using an underwater camera. we had leftover shots on it from the snorkel/whalewatching trip in hawaii.

i have a love/hate relationship with baseball.

i love to watch nathaniel play first base. when i see his 6' 3" frame stretched out to catch a throw out, i am busting at the seams.

i hate to watch him pitch (even though he's very good at it) because there's too much pressure on him when he plays that position.

this season has been challenging. the team doesn't boast but one senior and four juniors. some of the boys on the team have never before played baseball...never thrown a ball or worn a baseball glove or fielded a grounder or judged a pop fly to the outfield, not to mention held a bat and stood in the batter's box facing down a pitcher who is throwing 80 mile per hour fast balls inches from their body.

there have been some shining moments...like when the rookie right fielder caught a stinging hit like a football, cradling it in the bread basket and then breaking into a beaming smile. but, more often than not, the team has suffered some crushing defeats. i think pro coaches would label this a "transition year."

next week is the end of the regular season, followed by a trip to the district tournament. historically, the team has never made it out of the first round of this tournament and we don't hold out much hope for this year either. but even with all of the trials this season has presented these boys with, they continue to show up ready to play a game they love.

next year will be nathaniel's last baseball season of high school. this is a year that will be marked by many "this is the last"s. and i'm really feeling nostalgic and soft and tender. so whether i feel nervous when he pitches or proud when he makes a great play at first or hits a line drive over the second baseman's head (or doesn't do any of these things) i want to be there to see it. everything could possibly be the last...even when it isn't.

duh...

i sat at my desk and realized i had left my delicious soymilk coffee creamer on the front seat of my car.

i grabbed my building access card and walked down the four flights of steps to the parking garage. i reached my car and realized i didn't have my car keys. all the doors were locked.

i walked back up the stairs, got me keys and went down the stairs again to retrieve the much sought after creamer.

back up the steps and back at my desk i searched high and low for my splenda packets. both pockets of my purse, in my bookbag...finally i opened the drawer where i actually KEEP my splenda and there they were.

in the kitchen mixing up my elixir of morning yummy-ness i thought that perhaps starting work at 7:00 a.m. is not saving me so much time.

w.b.w.

this little number is called, "tantalizing charm."

is anyone else reminded of a barbra streisand movie?

to wander wondering...

rows and rows of tables covered in books, magazines, LPs, CDs, tapes, movies, sheet music and maps. i fell to mindless meandering, skimming titles and succeeded only in making myself dizzy.

i directed my steps to where kelly stood, methodically perusing the pop albums -- focused and purposeful right off the bat. i stood at his elbow and willed my mind to pinpoint a singular desire -- one absolute must-have title. there i was surrounded by thousands, perhaps, MILLIONS of books and i couldn't think of one that i HAD to have. and then it came to me. housekeeping by marilynne robinson. now driven, i walked to the fiction area and searched, row after sideways spine row for that individual book.

if i had wanted bridges of madison county, i could have picked that a hundred times over, or say, women's room (the latter of which i heartily recommend), but alas and alack, not the novel i sought.

i did, however, pick out a number of memoirs (after i gave up looking for the holy grail) and my fair share of trade paperbacks (which, by the way, i much prefer to a traditional paperback; call me a snob, but the small paperback book size just screams, "romance novel" to me).

so my summer reading line-up is complete. if only i can focus in on what book to choose first, i'd begin already.

w.b.w.

" deceptively simple" and "utterly sophisticated"

i'll leave it up to you to decide which is which.

five year old me...

halloween 1970...5 year old heidi and her award winning, albeit moldy, kindergarten pumpkin. my mom made that clown costume. my sister becky's is matching, but in green.

i wish i knew who or what i had my eye on...

w.b.w. (on thursday)

please weigh in on this issue: which is more disturbing?

**the bow tie

**the hatchet

**the maniacal look in "the sportster's" eyes?

**the whole white knuckle grip package?

more maui...

at the summit of the waihee ridge trail

i can safely say that this vacation was my very favorite of all time. in my way of thinking it was the perfect blend of doing and relaxing, a delicate balance indeed.

four years ago we went to hawaii and spent so much of our time island-hopping we barely knew which island we were on at any given moment. but, of course, on that trip we got to see flowing red-hot lava, the southern cross and ride in a jeep perilously close to the edge of a cliff looking for amazing waterfalls to swim in.

this time we promised ourselves it would be different, and it was.

there was lots of beach time.

there was whale-watching (absolutely amazing) and snorkeling (i swam with giant sea turtles over a coral reef with tropical fish fluttering around my head).

there was hiking above the clouds, above even where the tourtist-filled helicopter flew into the valley. i conquered my fear of heights and made it to the summit.

there was resting (i read an entire book in one day lounging under a giant shade tree overlooking the ocean with a view of the neighboring islands of molokai and lanai).

there was the consumption of tropical drinks.

there was fabulous food (oh, to have just one more serving of macadamia nut encrusted opah).

there were too many rainbows to count...horizon to horizon ones, sometimes double!

there was a romantic starlit walk on the beach.

but, far and away, one of my favorite moments could have occurred anywhere, it just so happened to be on the lawn of our hotel. while i relaxed on a lounge chair, lazily reading, i watched my boys play catch in the fading pink light of the afternoon. nathaniel has been playing baseball since he was four so "catch" has been a big part of his growing up years. but this time, my heart was touched so, that i began to quietly cry. it was definitely a "sunrise/sunset" batch of tears.

as we gathered our belongings and walked in the breezy cooling air to ready ourselves for another spectacular sunset before going out for another fabulous meal, i reached up and squeezed nathaniel's broad shoulders and told him how much i loved him. his skin was sunburnt and warm. "i love you too, momma."

perfect, perfect vacation.

what i did on my spring break...

"we're gonna take a surfin' safari..."

thanks to mark from goofy foot, i stood up long enough for steve the mighty photographer to get this shot of me showing off my mad surfin' skillz. don't be fooled, mostly i just drank the ocean. but it was a great time!

i heart hawaii!

more soon...

w.b.w.

these ladies make me think of a 1960s version of the pussycat dolls.

****

true confessions...my newest guilty pleasure is "the search for the next doll."

a family debate was launched based on last night's episode during which mikey, the choreographer, chastised one of the girls for being too sexy/trashy/pole dancer-y.

nathaniel (yes, we watch with our 17 year old son) pointed out that the entire point of the pussycat dolls is the sexy dancing. how can something be too sexy? i get that something may be too raunchy, nasty and raw, but this girl's moves were no more slutty than any of the other performers, sometimes even less so.

note to readers: if you've tivo'd/taped this episode, spoiler alert (yea, like anybody but the wallaces are watching this show!)

for the elimination event the contestants performed dance/vocal routines in the pussycat doll lounge. and what is prominently featured on both sides of the stage in the club? you got it -- stripper poles. the girl who had been reprimanded numerous times for her go-go girl ways was eliminated. personally, i think they were just looking for an excuse to get rid of her.

but the much more interesting conversation we had was about those folks who hold the pussycat dolls out as role models for young girls -- women of empowerment -- women who take charge of their own sexuality -- women who do it on their own terms -- women who take back sexy dancing from the private realm of men and take it mainstream, putting it out there for everyone to see and enjoy in a non-threatening, "wholesome" way.

okay, admittedly, i'm biased as a former women's studies major, but really, can this be the angle the creator of the pussycat dolls is going to use to try to convince the american public that this group is anything more than what they are? the pussycat dolls used to be JUST a dance group. it's only been in the past few years that they've gone mainstream and added vocals to their repertoire. so perhaps the sheer act of legitimizing the sexy dancing genre is going to remove the "skank factor" and make it less porn and more pure entertainment. who knows? the trend seems to be to take it even more risque than less. of course, there's always the possibility that the course will self-correct, but i have yet to see any evidence of this happening. have you? it's like there are two diametrically opposed ends of the spectrum...the far christian right and the way out "more skin is better" camp. the middle ground seems to be shrinking.

does it sound like i'm sitting here typing this dressed in a high starched collar, long-sleeve blouse with a floor length skirt and button boots? i'm not. i don't 100% eschew sexuality, but i do cringe when it's used overtly (we could talk for hours about subliminal sexual messages -- i'm a self-proclaimed expert on that subject) to sell. in my opinion, it's a thin line between explicit sexuality used as a marketing tool and prostitution. i know, i know, that's a huge leap in logic, but the basic tenants of using sex to make an income are simple.

phew... i got dizzy when i climbed down from that high, high soap box.

anyway, nathaniel said that even if all of the above is true, that one would be hard pressed to find men who would say that they don't enjoy watching women dance suggestively. and it simply doesn't matter to men the motivations proclaimed by the women. sexy dancing with noble motives is still sexy dancing. and further, women will watch other women dance suggestively. therefore, the net can be cast much wider for an act with these talents and the appeal is greater. that's why the pussycat dolls are popular...men want to be with them; women want to be them.

you gotta love a teenage boy that can state it so succinctly.

8:09 a.m.

seventeen years ago at 8:09 a.m. nathaniel reid wallace popped into the world.

i feel blessed and lucky to have gotten on this amazing carnival ride called parenthood. one minute you're up, then down, then upside down and a bit queasy and light-headed, but with an ear-to-ear grin on your face.

nathaniel is a joyous human -- quick and witty, tall and strong, deep and sensitive...all in just the right combinations.

thank you, nathaniel, for being born. you have been the greatest gift to your father and i. you are the most momentous event we have ever attended and i, personally, can't wait to see how we all turn out.

muchos gracias...

bff, becky, gave me this b-u-tee-ful hat last night at our weekly knitting get together (really, we read magazines, lesley creates spectacular needle felted lovelies and we knit a bit)!

i was bowled over by it's fab-ness. i have dubbed it my queen hat. those pom pons are my sceptors.

it's nice to have such wonderfully talented and generous friends.

w.b.w.

the jacket on the left is something i might actually want to knit...

the hairdo on the model on the right...hmmm...looks like a wig hat.

sock-ettes...

it seems oxymoronish to call these sockettes when they measure nearly twelve inches long, but "men's peds" doesn't seem quite right either.


i made these for nathaniel with 1-1/4 skeins of regia sock yarn on size 1 double pointed needles. i'm sure for folks with feet of normal size (smaller than a man's size 12) it would have taken just one skein.



i used a pattern from this 1950s vintage pattern book, gifted to me from the wonderful lesley (who, by the by, needs to get on the bandwagon and start a blog)!


the pattern was so easy, and worked up so quickly, i've already started on a second pair, in a different colorway of regia. hopefully his feet will not grow to a size 13 before i'm done.