then and now

Dear #1 Son,

Twenty years ago on a cold rainy day, you entered my life. Nothing could have adequately prepared me for the wonder, joy, awe, overwhelming love and sheer terror that parenting brings. I should, maybe, have gotten a clue that you would be a force to be reckoned with when, although it was around 65F (19C) when you were born, it was 105F (40C) when I brought you home.

In true Mom-tech-geek fashion, for your first 10 years I teased that you were still in beta testing: Adam v0.8. On your tenth birthday – half a lifetime ago – you reached the first major release: Adam v1.0. I remember how excited you were to reach those double digits. I have to admit that a few of the interim releases since there were a little rocky. As features were added, stability was lost and I started receiving more error messages. Sometimes nothing seemed to work at all.

Now, suddenly, here’s Adam v2.0. A new major release. A stable, user-friendly release.

Adam, I am so proud of you! I love your wit and your compassion, your passion for your music, your enthusiasm for causes. You have accomplished so much, done so much, been so many places. I so admire your drive and your willingness to do whatever it takes to reach your dreams. No mountain is too high for you to climb. No star is too far for you to reach.

Adam, dude… you rock my world.

steering wheel cozy

… the one known as #1 Son’s car.

#1 Son left his car in my care. Actually, I insisted. I sort of like to know what’s happening with it when he’s not around. He left it parked at my house with gas tank empty and the seats and floors full of nameless… stuff. I knew I had to drive it at least once or twice a week to keep it in running order. My first priority was to get some gas in it, because it was on fumes. I got in and started the car. With my right hand, I grasped the shift knob…

There was something on the knob. I don’t know what. But it didn’t feel like anything I wanted to touch. I wiped my hand without much effect on the passenger seat upholstery. I dug around in my purse for a kleenex and wiped the knob and my hand off. Then I shifted into drive and away we went.

The steering wheel was greasy. I rolled down the windows, because it stank inside. Unknown things rattled around. I made it to the gas station, filled it, survived the sticker shock (big difference between #1 Son’s Subaru Outback and my Prius), and headed back home.

And there it sat, because… driving it was gross.

But I knew that I needed to drive it again. So, with the long weekend, I decided it was time to clean it up. I started by sorting the contents into three piles: (1) known items to be filed in house, (2) known items to be left in car, (3) a combination of known items that should be discarded and totally unidentifiable things. The third pile was by far the largest. Those items went directly into the garbage without passing Go. The first pile consisted of things that need to be kept, but not in the car. They were brought inside and filed. And that left plenty of room to organize the things that needed to be left in the car, like coins and cassette tapes and CDs and paperwork like the registration and such.

Now that I could see all surfaces, I started to clean. I started at the top, and worked my way down. And it was pretty bad. But I cleaned everything. There was one little horde of pennies that were stuck together by some nameless gunk. I wiped them all off individually. I cleaned the shift knob and the steering wheel twice, just in case. I dug into nooks and crannies. I polished and spiffed until it gleamed. I washed all of the windows. And then I drove it up to the car wash where they have vacuum cleaners strong enough to almost turn the car inside out. And I vacuumed everything – twice. Once home I febrezed all of the upholstery and carpets. Liberally.

Since the thing was clean, I didn’t feel so bad about driving it. So I drove out to the Oregon DEQ facility – a nice Saturday drive. The car passed the DEQ test with flying colors and has brand new tags and registration.

There was only one thing missing: a steering wheel cozy. So I’ve started one, and should have it finished within a few days – well before #1 Son returns on the 16th. This is Berroco Suede in Tombstone (gray) and Zorro (black). It’s posing in a gratuitous garden shot amongst my hardy fuchsia.

#1 Son called a couple of days ago from Nuremberg. They are having a wonderful time and he loves all the places they have visited so far. He told me that Prague is the most beautiful city in Europe – just like a postcard, Mom – with these crazy castles dotted about and gorgeous architecture.. Having never been there, I have no opinion myself, but it sounds lovely.

I didn’t tell him that he will come home to a car that is full of gas, legally registered for two more years, clean and cozied. We’ll let it be our little secret for now, eh?

Happy B-Day USA

232 years ago today, the Declaration Of Independence was ratified, and a new nation was born from the union of 13 upstart colonies.

A little experiment was started with a republican form of government. We’re still experimenting.

I don’t always agree with whoever sits in the oval office at any given time. And I don’t always agree with what Congress is doing. And I don’t always agree with the rulings of the Supreme Court. But the beauty of our system is that none of them can do irreparable damage in the long run. And while I sometime gotta wonder what my fellow voters were thinking, no irreparable harm is done there, either. Change may sometime come very slowly, but change comes and errors are corrected, and good things happen, and we vote the @#%^ out of office, and vote in new @#%^, and the wheel turns.

It’s not a perfect society. But, thank the universe, it’s mostly self-correcting. We may get off track sometimes, but eventually we remember the principles that this country was founded on. And freedom wins out. And liberty wins out. And justice wins out. And compassion. And peace.

Although we sometimes seem to have lost our collective sense of humor, we do usually have one. Americans work hard and play hard. We are a young country (relatively), and like young people we are unafraid and a little arrogant and sometimes a bit brash. We love challenges and new frontiers and big adventures.

We’re pretty friendly with our ex’s across the big pond now. But sometimes I think our nearest neighbors might look askance at some of the weeds we allow to grow in our back yard. Please give us a chance to work a little change and get a some of that cleaned up.

For all our issues, this is still, in my opinion, the greatest country on earth. I can’t imagine wanting to live anywhere else.

Happy birthday!

a little yarn pr0n

We’re a bit short on knitting content here, gentle reader, so I am distracting you with offering instead this little bit of yarn pr0n.

To the left is Rio de la Plata Multicolor Sock in SP35. The label specifies this colorway as being a combination of Cappuccino, Iguana, Sudan Brown, Sparkling Grape, Sky Blue and Red Orange. It’s 437 yds of 100% Merino superwash. I blame ~Kristie for this one. After seeing this yarn on her blog, I just had to have some. Mine came from The Loopy Ewe.

To the right is Pagewood Farm Glacier Bay Hand Dyed Sock Yarn in Mocha. It’s 450 yards of 100% Merino superwash, and I have no one to blame for this one but myself. I saw it hanging on the rack in All About Yarn when my current class started, and I knew immediately it was coming home with me. Although it’s called Mocha, there is definite hints of grapiness. Love it!

Not sure which will be on my needles next. Who knows what shiny new thing might come along…

On a different subject, you know how you have that nameless, ball-bandless hank of yarn in the bottom of your knitting basket that you don’t have enough of and you really like but you can’t remember what it was so you can’t get more of it? Fess up, now. We all have one or two hanging around. I use mine for test swatches, because otherwise there’s not enough for anything else. I wish I could get more. But no idea what it is.

A bunch of us were talking the other day about how nice it would be if there were someplace like the County Extension Agency, only for yarn.

If a strange weed that you don’t recognize pops up in your yard, or an odd bug crawls into your house and you don’t know if you should be worried or not, you can take the thing over to the Extension Agency and they can identify it and tell you what to do about it (if anything). Why isn’t there a place where I can take my unknown yarn?

I picture being able to bring in an unknown skein. A Master Yarn Identifier would look at it closely – maybe with a magnifying glass. Perhaps there would be comparisons made to a vast array of sample yarns. And after due consideration my unknown would be handed back to me and the Master Yarn Identifier would say Oh yes. That’s Koigu KPPM in colorway 5290, dyelot ABC. [ed. is dyelot too much to ask?] That yarn was produced in 2004. Don’t see much of it any more. Have a nice day.

I know I’m dreaming. But wouldn’t that be nice?

[ed. I must have been 1/2 asleep this morning. I just realized that this post had no title, which makes it rather anonymous in the archives and such. So I gave it one.]