Labels

How does one go about labelling one's self?

At evensong, the vicar in his sermon inquired as to how we would identify ourselves (e.g., father, banker, daughter, doctor), and this has left me a little puzzled, as I am not quite sure how to identify myself, and don't think I could do it with one word or phrase either. John, of the Gospel, identified himself as 'the disciple whom Jesus loved'.

His point was tangentially referrent to Frere Roger, who was killed during the celebration of mass by a deranged woman, and that the new book about Fr. Roger describes that he died in the way that he lived -- in love for his neighbor, that being one of the two Great Commandments -- this being the identifier of this man's life.

While I am a lot of things (many of them a bit silly), I would certainly hope that there would be a little more soul to my reductionary epitaph than 'knitter' or 'blogger' or 'reader' or 'resident of ____ city'. It makes one want to try a little harder to make a better label.


if the world is night shine my life like a light
Indigo Girls, 'Let It Be Me'

Little Things on a Sunday

It is very difficult to photograph a ladybug (aka, ladybird). They are small; they are cute; and they are rather like my Oma in that they move very rapidly and look lovely in red.

Yesterday's attempt is shown here.

...and portrait of this morning during outside knitting-in-plein-air session (well, obviously, it is a not a portrait of the morning... Incidentally, how would one go about capturing a portrait of the morning? What is a morning? It has infinite variations and my morning may have been completely different from your morning, for example. Or, you may have spent your morning on the doorstep of #3, knitting and drinking two cups of tea and photographing ladybugs. And you were right next to me in a parallel universe. And now I am slightly disconcerted that you may have overheard me do something rude.).

Ladybug has been perched on my table for about an hour now and whilst she is being still, photos of her are just not coming out well at all. Various neighbors may also be peering through their lace curtains wondering if they ought to be afraid of the strange girl with the wooden sticks who keeps taking photos of her tabletop.

Am quite proud of m'self for knitting project (although would have been prouder had I managed to finish project last evening), which is for Breakthrough Breast Cancer. The lovely ladies from Norfolk Yarns, who come to knitting on a Thursday, brought the information last week. The Knit a Natty Key Ring Campaign is creating key rings to be sold as a fundraiser. (Please read about it, as their little sweaters are much

cuter than mine.)

Pattern for tiny sweater is a raglan pattern, and I have never knitted one of these patterns before. I believe we learned some things about finishing, as it is really damnably difficult to attach an arm and sew up the arm edge to the cuff when you have attached everything else on the whole sweater (this is also reason that the left arm -- on the right, facing -- looks like it is for a person with an arm paralysed into the air).

Am also not sure how to make the ring part neatly covered in

wool all the way around and so my ring is kind of boring (and I hope it is fastened strongly enough). The whole thing, with ring attached, is about 3 inches tall.

Methinks I shall do another!

*******

AND, have also found out what the craze is for the trees out front in the churchyard (by being nosy and interrogating people who are out there picking nuts up) -- they are Turkish Hazelnut trees and you can apparently toast the nuts and eat them! Who in God's name knew there was a Hazelnut Council...?

Kickball

There is a small horde of Americans out in the churchyard playing kickball. I think the world needs more kickball games.

Of course, I will not be participating in those kickball games for the time being, as it is all I can do to recover my ability to walk after not having walk any further than 20 feet from my car to a shop or restaurant or school for a month :) My legs are feeling rawther shaky after only two days of walking to and from the bus stop. And an evening nap was also a part of the last two days as well... Feeble McBruner. Next trip, I AM going to get on the treadmill at my hotels...

Yes, the world needs more kickball. And also more Rock, Paper, Scissors -- someone I was talking to the other day put forth the idea that large global decisions and conflicts could probably be solved by Rock, Paper, Scissors. When she taught in China, any time children were fighting over something, she could have them do Rock, Paper, Scissors and they would accept whatever the outcome was. This seems to me to be an interesting cultural characteristic -- to be able to simplify things to such a level.

*******
Today has been an absolutely gorgeous day and a very good day for buying raspberries and haberdashery items for crafty projects (the raspberries are obviously NOT for crafty projects but for improving one's attitude and interactive abilities with others. And they also have anti-oxidants or something.). Have now started on the edging for the gloves which are on the needles now. This is my first-ever glove attempt, and whilst it is gloriously fun, it does involve quite a bit of paying attention and counting and a little vexation from the tiny holes between fingers which are reportedly inevitable and completely fixable when doing finishing. But they are still annoying.

Leaves are just turning here, but slowly. The heating has had to go on for short periods this week, and I have also been considering medieval methods for de-drafting my abode (e.g., dramatic tapestry curtains over the front doorway and middle doorways and a draft snake for the middle split between the sash windows. For the second project, have purchased some lovely light brown fine-waled cordouroy remnants and am trying to decide what is the best filling to get tomorrow.)

Think, think, think crafty thoughts....

Listed

It is the little things in life.

Like being thrilled by being listed in a phone directory like the real people are.

:)

(and apparently, conkers/horse chestnuts can be used as moth deterrents. this useful tidbit from the web is a result of my wondering why in the world people were out in front of my house picking them off the pavement. this is the only reason i could find for this behaviour. any other suggestions will be welcomed.)

Fun with Guests

Not to be terrifically mocking, but British people in general have some things to learn about hosting guests. Now British culture is not nearly as in-your-face-damnably-chipper-so-people-want-to-slap-you as US hosting would tend towards (or maybe it is just my privilege to be Southern).

However, there are loads of good things to be said for being in-your-face-damnably-chipper-so-people-want-to-slap-you, because at least guests are able to have some sort of emotion or want to take some sort of action (even if that is a violent outburst) instead of just sitting stiff-upper-lipped, idly uncomfortable and rawther stuck. Perhaps Martha Stewart needs to be a little more popular in this country.

There is a contingent of visitors to the university here this week, about 40 of them. Most of them are Asian, but there are also some African and US attendees. I have not been involved in the planning of this, and so am totally tacky in my armchair quarterbacking, BUT it seems a good and amusing thing to tell a small story about last evening...

So, Sally kindly collected me (light laughter here from our Texas contingent of readers) from my abode approximately 5 minutes before 7pm (19.00 on our 24-hour time system) and we tootled off to Ye Olde Wildebeest Pubbe (or something involving a Wildebeest), where the coach full of guests was expected to arrive for drinks at 7.30pm and then dinner at 8.00. Upon our approach down the country lane toward the pub, we encountered a coach heading in the opposite direction. This was slightly unusual and despite the noticeable number of Asian faces in the windows, we decided it couldn't be the same coach with UEA guests. We were incorrect.

Upon reaching the pub were told that the coach had indeed been that same one, but was having to go a different way due to a double 90* turn bridge. (More humour comes in here in a moment)

So, we had a glass of wine and stood around catching up with everyone (and reintroducing on my part since people didn't recognise me due to extended absence). Then the conversation started to get a slightly thin (not a little due to a certain pompous short man who unfortunately finds himself in a position of power and enjoys asking inane and irrelevant questions just to prove that you are unable to answer them -- I was gleeful to have chosen to wear 2.5 inch heels. HA!), and 7.45 came and went.

Then 8.00 came and went. The pompous little man started getting antsy and bustling about on his mobile, again giving me a cruel sense of pleasure.

Then 8.30 came and went and the atmosphere started to get hysterically funny in a tragic sort of way.

Approximately 8.45, our poor guests finally disembarked. We shoved drinks in their hands and ushered them to seats for instant food. Several were slightly flustrated and frustered (these being the fully intended morphs of these words), and sadly most of these were the Americans (we give a lot of care, only to guests though, and we expect a lot of care, which can be a good and a bad thing. no judgement given by me here.).

Firstly, they had been collected (pause for tittering) from their hotel (Dunstan Hall, which is easy to see on the Wildebeest Arms review map, linked farther above) at 7.00. Said hotel being less than 2 miles from this pub...

Secondly, the twin 90* turns at the impassable bridge were approximately a 5 minute walk from the pub.

Thirdly, not one, but TWO of the guests, had been commandeered by the bus driver to debark and direct the bus in its backing endeavours using the sophisticated equipment of a flashlight (torch). It appears to have been jovially agreed to by the two lucky guests until they realised (mentally and physically) that this involved quite a bit of darkness, danger and large vehicular reversing for a distance approaching 2 miles.

Fourthly, how choice that one of the guest selected for this backwards-running-torch-carrying venture through East Anglian darkness was one of the American partners (in exchange programs) who we (that is, my mostly vacant position, admittedly) most severely vexed and angered last year! This trip was supposed to be a pleasant experience to smooth over these ruffled feelings, and hopefully a few pints will... but STILL!

*******
And now, 'tis time for tonight's adventure :)

Danger

Well, his name isn't Will Robinson, but a mosquito bite during a trip to the US has put a Scottish man in a coma. He has been in a coma since 31 August. New England appears from this article to be a significantly dangerous destination. I am so pleased to be going there in 3 weeks' time. Can one build up immunity based on thousands of bites over one's lifetime?

*******
In other news, it is rainy and cool in Norwich (hence, no mosquitos so far), but I refuse to turn my heating on yet. Heat and cosiness only makes one a bit calm and dosy, not an efficient frame of mind for dealing with vexing banks. (Apparently, my new bank did not do as they said they would according to my written order and failed to change my standing orders from my old bank account during the month I have been gone. This has resulted in an overdraft from my old bank account, instead of the cushion I intended to keep there. I changed from my old bank because they were inept and also refused to upgrade me from a pitiful student account. Hmph. Am thinking of converting completely to shells as currency.)

Jiggetty-Jig

And we are home again, home again...

Jasper and Carrot seem mildly thrilled to have person movement in the house, but Forsythe is harder to read. Snail emotion is so difficult to gauge, you know.

Although it was not according to recommended travel behaviour, yesterday was mostly spent in comatose drooling. After short awake period, in which watched France upset New Zealand (after England routed Australia earlier, the last 2 minutes of which I listened to as eyes refused to crack open) and then half of Sleepy Hollow (quite a silly movie actually. Don't feel need to ever see the first half.), have managed to feel slightly recovered after 10-ish hours of sleep (not completely recovered, as cannot seem to manage the will to excurse to Tesco for some laundry detergent).

Trip was fun and rewarding (a month is a long time for a ), although I do have some insightful points to make regarding various items, such as Northwest Airlines being fairly the worst airline ever (but did encounter two lovely employees); certain aunties and uncles are lovely chauffeurs for various visitors to Austin; even anti-Starbucks British persons do seem at a loss when there is not an establishment readily available (in Schipol Airport); La Margarita restaurant in San Antonio Old Marketplace creates some lovely fajita meat; and the fact that iced chai tea is completely vile.

Pictures will be posted when I get m'self organised. So far, have only managed to unpack my windchimes, my two Marx Brothers box sets, my shoes and my wool...