Just a reminder that tomorrow is World Wide Knit In Public Day!

So take your knitting out into the world and let others see how fun it is! Maybe we can inspire some new knitters.

On my own knitting front, I’m about 8″ into the sensational shirttail sweater and I’ve twisted the cable four times. I’ve been tired in the evenings for some reason — or maybe it’s just that my house is so quiet lately — and I can’t seem to get more than a couple of rows knit each evening. I’ll keep plugging away at it though. Like knitting socks two at a time, since I’m working on the back and both fronts all at once it will take longer, but when I’m done then all that much more will have been accomplished.

I wanted to get another pair of socks started but I didn’t like the test swatch I made. So I’m looking for a different pattern. I’d like to have some socks on the needles as traveling companions. The sweater is a bit bulky to carry around.

On the way home each night I travel for about 12 mines up a busy, 5-lane street with a speed limit of around 40 MPH (more or less, depending on the section of road). Last night, about 3 miles into the trip, I pulled up to a stop light and noticed that the right front tire of the car beside me in the left lane was flat as a pancake. And I mean flat — not low, or going down, but flat.

I saw through the passenger’s partially open window that the couple in the car appeared quite young. So, reasoning that they might not have experience with flat tires and being the helpful person that I am, I rolled down my window and called over to them in a friendly manner, “Hey! It looks like your tire is really flat!”

The driver answered, “Yes, we’re going there right now!” And the passenger quickly rolled up his window.

“OK.” I thought. The reaction was a little strange. I’m really not at all scary. But, maybe several other people have mentioned it to them already.

On the remaining 8 or nine miles of road that I usually travel, there are numerous service stations and tire places. The car with the flat stopped at none of them. It continued blithely on in the left lane. I swear the rim had to be on the pavement and I don’t know why the tire wasn’t in shreds. I watched in fascination all the way down the road, at speeds of up to 45 MPH. When I finally turned off toward home, the car with the flat was still going, and heading out into country where there isn’t a service station for miles. I really wondered where they were going “right now,” and I was tempted to follow them. But home beckoned.

I really wish #1 Son had been in the car so I could have taken the opportunity to discuss what to do when you have a flat tire and explain that my preferred reaction was to pull over as soon as it was safe and put the spare on. Or, drive very slowly to the nearest service station, if that wasn’t too far. Or, call AAA (yes, I’m still a member).

#1 Son, if you are reading this, please, please, please don’t ever drive at 45 MPH for 10 miles on a flat tire. Please.

Thanks.

Part 6: MGM Grand (redux)

Tuesday got off to a late start, but I did manage to squeeze a little gambling and a cup of coffee in before noon. When #1 Son got up, he looked out the window and said, It’s really raining hard, Mom. You’re going to get wet going down to MGM Grand.

I dithered about whether to do the focus group or not. But… $50 is $50 and I’m not so wealthy that it isn’t a meaningful sum of cash. I was due down there at 2:15, so I started out about 1:00. I decided to be “smart” and take the monorail so I wouldn’t have to walk so far. I knew the closest monorail stop was a Bally’s. For some reason I thought that I had to walk up to the corner and take the people-mover conveyor belt thingy into the casino. By the time I walked up the street, I was soaked. And, once in the casino, I realized that I could have walked through Paris and gotten there virtually dry.

And my foot really hurt, now. I could tell it was starting to blister on the bottom.

Since it was raining there were quite a few people waiting for the monorail, but I managed to get on to the second train that came. At MGM Grand, I hobbled down to Television City for the focus group. We were asked to watch snips from several shows that were simulcast on both HD-TV and regular TV and notice the differences. Then we were led to a room where we were asked lots of questions about how much we would be willing to pay for on-demand TV shows (zero, in my case), if we would pay $7 to see a movie 0n-demand with no commercials and available for 24 hours (no, since I currently pay around $3), if we would rather have $1500 cash or $2500 in electronic equipment (probably cash), and what equipment were we planning on buying in the next year (none). There was some debate about whether my computer counted like a Tivo, since I do have cable running to it and can record TV shows for later viewing.

After receiving my hard-earned (hardly earned?) $50, I hobbled out to the monorail station. The line for the monorail was now all the way out to the casino. I waited for a long, long, time. I would have risked the rain and walked, but by now my foot was killing me and the blister on the bottom felt like it was the size of Mt. Hood. So I waited. Back at Bally’s, I turned left and walked through Paris. I only got a little wet between Paris and the Aladdin. I bought some band-aids and hobbled upstairs to tape my foot up. I told #1 Son that I had to have some different shoes, so we needed to go shopping. I was also pretty hungry, as I hadn’t eaten. The litter in the room announced that #1 Son had gone for take-out sushi, but there wasn’t even a crumb left.

Part 7: The Aladdin (redux)

While in the room, I called Aladdin engineering and told them that I was having problems with the mouse, that I’d called Sprint, and that nobody had ever come by or called. The guy I talked to said that he’d call me back right away. I never heard from him.

The Desert Passage mall at The Aladdin has 104 shops. It’s not quite as upscale as The Forum at Caesar’s or the mall at Paris, but there are a lot of cool shops to look in. There was, of course, a shoe store. And they had shoes in European sizing, which fit me much better than American sizes. I bought two pairs — a pair of red casual shoes and a pair of black dress shoes — and wore the red ones out of the store. My foot started to feel better immediately, as did my spirit. There’s nothing like a new pair of shoes. Mama used to say that when you’re down you should go buy a new hat to lift your spirit. I look sucky in hats, so I buy shoes. 😀

We also stopped in a souvenir shop to buy umbrellas and gifts for some of #1 Son ‘s friends. He picked up a t-shirt and two souvenir lighters. We also ate passable but totally uninspired enchiladas at a Mexican restaurant that also boasted (go figure) bad coffee.

It was still raining. It rained hard enough to overflow the Bellagio fountain.

After shopping we hung around the room (mom with foot propped up) until it was time to hobble down to The Flamingo for:

Part 8: George Wallace at The Flamingo

Finally a good show! Both George Wallace and the comedian who did the warm up were hysterically funny. We were sitting right by the stage, so #1 Son got teased about his hair. 😉 I thought of it as turnabout’s fair play since last year I was teased soundly by the magician at V.

On the way back to The Aladdin, it was still raining like crazy. But, we were dry under our umbrellas. We turned in right after the show because we had to get up early for:

Part 9: Hummer Gold Rish Adventure Tour

Last year we took a Hummer tour to the Grand Canyon and it was lots of fun. So this year I booked the Hummer Gold Rush Adventure Tour, that takes you out to a gold mine and a ghost town. We had to be out at the pick-up point at 8:00 AM in order to catch the Hummer for the tour. The Hummer showed up about 8:20, and the driver said that the tour had to be cancelled.

Water and deserts don’t mix. The electricity at the mine and the ghost town was out and the roads were closed because of flash floods.

We were offered $10 off on the Valley Of Fire tour, but since I happen to know that tour is quite a bit less than $10 off of the gold mine tour price, I declined. Instead we trooped back in to the concierge desk to get a refund and find out if any other tours were still open. Well, said the nice lady at the concierge desk. I could probably book you on:

Part 10: Annie Bananie’s Wild West Vally Of Fire & Lake Mead tour

OK. It’s a hokey name meant to grap the attention of Japanese tourists. But, hey… what the heck. It was either Annie Bananie or boredom.

While the concierge lady got our tour booked, I took the opportunity to discuss with the manager the situation with our mouse. She not only promised to have it fixed by the time we got back, but also comped our internet usage. 🙂

For the tour, we were picked up by “Sierra Sam” in a 12-seat mini-van. Sam was a Texan who’d been doing the tour for many years, and he was a hoot. He had a story about everything, including the Las Vegas sign. I don’t know how many stories were tall tales, but he was entertaining. Along the way to Lake Meade he told us about the rock formations, the history of Las Vegas and pointed out the homes of famous people. Our first stop was at an area of rock formations where we got out and took pictures. We were up high enough to get some great views of the valley.

From there we travelled to Lake Meade. I was surprised to see that in many place there was dirt and gravel on the pavement where the water from flash floods had gone over the road. Many of the normally-dry gullies now contained fast-running streams. Sam said he couldn’t recall seeing it quite like that ever before.

At Lake Meade we ate lunch at a little restaurant. Food was good. Coffee was bad. It was too windy and cold to walk around much. But we did look out over the lake for a bit before retreating to the van.

Our next stop was Roger’s Spring. We looked at it from the van but didn’t get out because Sam had heard some of the roads ahead were bad and more bad weather was coming. He wanted to make sure we saw the Valley of Fire before the bad weather hit again.

We stopped at several spots in The Valley Of Fire, including the Visitor’s Center.

One stop was at some stone cabins built in the ’30’s by the Civilian Conservation Corps There are petroglyphs on the rocks behind the cabins. This picture was taken looking out of the window of the middle cabin. (click on the pic to embiggen)

As you can see, there was a great view, but the accomodations left something to be desired. The room is about 10′ x 10′, with a small fireplace and chimney in the corner opposite the door. The floor is dirt. There is no door or window. I doubt that anyone leaves a chocolate on your pillow. But, if you climb down the rocks in front of the cabins, there’s a pool and the swimming looked good.

Our last stop was at an arch formation. While there, it started to rain, and then hail. I was glad we’d seen everything because it was obviously time to call it quits.

All-in-all, the tour was a lot of fun. Sam was an awesome guide and the sights were well worth seeing. I’d recommend the tour to anyone. I’d even take it again myself. (But next year I’d really like to do the ghost town and gold mine!)

Sam dropped us off at The Aladdin in the afternoon. I was sorry to learn from him that the Aladdin is closing and will reopen as Planet Hollywood. I would have stayed at the Aladdin again. But Planet Hollywood… uh… no.

Part 11: The Aladdin (finale)
We debated where to eat dinner, and finally decided on Tremezzo, an Italian place in The Aladdin. #1 Son ordered a cup of coffee. Might as well give it one more shot. he said.

His coffee came in a French press. It smelled divine. I’ll have one of those, too. I told the waiter. Finally! Decent coffee!

After dinner it was pretty much just a little TV and then bed. We had to get up at 4:30 AM [groan] in order to get to the airport by 6:00, to catch an 8:00 AM flight. I always allow extra time for the trip back, because we always, always get stuck somewhere (usually in security).

Part 12: Homeward Bound

And we did get stuck in security. Not me this time, but #1 Son. At least the TSA in Las Vegas asked my permission before searching him. That was refreshing.

They confiscated one of the lighters that #1 Son had bought (just one of the pair, even though they were the same). And not because he had too many lighters (which he did), but because that one was deemed to be a “torch lighter,” whatever the heck that is. They also confiscated the 2″ pair of scissors that was in the little sewing kit I bought in the Aladdin sundries shop so that #1 Son could sew a button on his coat. The little scissors that could barely cut thread were deemed too dangerous.

The TSA offered to let us mail the lighter and the scissors back to ourselves for (get this) $8.00 apiece. That’s nuts. I could drop the scissors in a letter with a regular stamp and mail it at postage rates. We declined.

#1 Son was sorry to lose the lighter. But he bought another one at the gift shop in the terminal while we were waiting for our plane to board.

The ride to PDX was uneventful. Getting the car out of the parking lot was expensive, since we had to park in the garage. The fur kids were glad to see us when we picked them up. Captain Kidd had finally started eating a little Gerber turkey, Phoebe was happy since the staff had learned she likes to be scratched, and Moo Cow was queen of the world once the staff moved her into what she consideres “her room” (she whined and moaned until they did). And we were all glad to be back home.

Pics will be up on Mommymonster when I get around to it, which may not be any time soon.

#1 Son and I go to Las Vegas for Christmas. I know that seems weird to some people. Las Vegas isn’t really the most “Christmassy” place on earth. But it’s become something of a tradition with us to get out of town during the holiday madness, and so we travel. To Vegas. Each year I make our reservation in a different hotel. This year it was The Aladdin. And each year we go on some sort of tour. This year it was to be a ghost town and gold mine. But, to begin at the beginning:

Part One: The Airport

#1 Son and I travel light and never check bags, so I usually check in and print our boarding passes over the ‘net the night before. That way we can go directly to our gate without any stops along the way. I printed #1 Son’s pass, but there was some glitch (or so I thought) that prevented me from printing mine. I kept getting a message that said: Print it at the airport.

We usually park in the economy lot and take the shuttle in. But, after dropping the fur kids off at the Cat B & B, we arrived at the airport to find the economy lot full — so full that barriers were up preventing us from even entering. Signs suggested parking in long term. But long term was full. Signs on the long term lot suggested parking in the garage. At $18/day. So far we’re doing great. NOT

Inside the airport I stopped to print my boarding pass, and then we headed for security. Since the Great Bullet Belt Debacle I was a little more cognizant of what items we were attempting to carry on board a plane. The bullet belt was left at home, as were all scissors. I had checked to make sure that knitting needles were allowed before I brought my half-made socks along. (One is now completed and the other 1/2 finished — pics when done.) What I hadn’t counted on was being singled out myself for a little extra attention.

In the security line, #1 Son was sent down the normal path, but I was shuffled off to the side, where the “special” people get to go. There my purse, bag, shoes and sweater were thoroughly examined, searched and otherwise pawed through. And a fairly rude woman patted me down, front and back, and used a metal-detector wand. I was required to unbuckle my belt, and since the pant I was wearing are rather loose, this had the unfortunate result of revealing my lovely undies to everyone in the terminal. You’re losing your pants. The TSA woman said helpfully, while the TSA man chuckled appreciatively and continued pawing through the undies in my bag.

When I was finally deemed harmless and allowed to depart the security area, I found #1 Son just putting his shoes back on. He had also been subjected to wanding because he’d forgotten to bring the key to the lock that fastens the chain around his neck, and so set off the metal detector. He had not only been wanded, but also patted down. I was neither notified nor asked permission. He wasn’t even asked if he was a minor.

Yes, I’ve complained to TSA, although I waited until I got home.

At the gate, #1 Son pointed out helpfully to me that since he had a bic lighter and a can of hairspray, he possessed what amounted to a flame thrower. I suggested that we not discuss that with any airline or TSA people.

On boarding the plane, when I presented my boarding pass the airlines employee said, Here’s the red boarding pass. You must be the dangerous woman on this flight. I made some noncommittal sound, and he replied by reading my name slowly and loudly enough for everyone at the gate to hear, thus subjecting me to further humiliation. #1 Son’s flame thrower became tempting…

Yes, I’ve complained to the airline, although I waited until I got home. (No sense in jinxing the return trip.)

Part 2: The Aladdin

So this particular vacation got off to a great start. But the flight down to Vegas was at least uneventful, and I finished the first sock while in the air. At The Aladdin, the check-in line was short. Our room was on the 17th floor near the elevators, and if we squeezed behind our table and craned our necks a little we had a reasonably good view of the Bellagio fountains. The bathroom featured a tiled shower with a glass door and a large soaking tub, but only one sink.

Every room in The Aladdin is equipped with a monitor, keyboard and mouse and has internet access via the hotel’s network for $9.95/24 hours. Yes, it’s more than most dial-up providers charge per month, but at least the access is available and “day” really is defined as 24 hours so there’s no extra charge for partial days. Our mouse didn’t work so I made sure that everything was plugged in correctly and rebooted the in-room part of the system. When that turned out to be ineffectual, I called the number provided (it turns out that the provider is Sprint). Since it was Sunday, no technicians were available but I was told that a “trouble ticket” would be issued and someone should be by in the morning.

The Aladdin has thoughtfully provided a PF Chang’s on the casino level. Since that happens to be one of my favorite restaurants, and one where vegetarian dishes are no problem, our dinner plans were easy to make. Although we had to wait for quite awhile to be seated, PF Chang’s was well worth the wait. I’m addicted to the lettuce wraps. Mom’s take on PF Chang’s:

For entertainment Sunday night, we looked no further than The Aladdin itself. Steve Wyrick is the featured act at the hotel. Billed as “Vegas’ Magician Of The Year,” Wyrick’s show promises bad motorcycles, hot girls, killer music and mind-blowing, bigger-than-life illusions. Unfortunately, it doesn’t quite deliver. The motorcyle (1) is there, and the girls, but the music is hardly “killer.” The illusions may be big, but they aren’t particularly mind-blowing. (Raise up curtain, roll airplane on stage. Yawn.) The smaller illusions are better. But his patter is annoying at best and his “teasing” of a woman who spoke absolutely no English and so didn’t understand the joke fell completely flat. Wyrick just doesn’t have the panache to pull off illusions of the size his act contains. After the show, the theater exit leads through the magic shop, where one is encouraged to buy everything in sight. VIP ticket holders can have their free magic books autographed by Wyrick. Non-VIP-ticket holders can get an autograph, but they have to pay for the book. We passed, and left wondering who votes for “Magician Of The Year.” If you’re in Vegas and want to see a magician, take in David Copperfield at the MGM Grand, or head over to Monte Carlo for Lance Burton. Mom’s take on Steve Wyrick:

More tomorrow, including Chucky meets Fargo at The Flamingo and the hazards of sudden downpours in the desert.

Now that #1 son is a proud possessor of that wonderous thing, a learner’s permit, he naturally wants to drive everywhere. And I want him to learn. Really. And I have to admit he’s doing pretty well. There are a few things he needs to practice: Turning is still a little shakey. He sometimes forgets to look both ways before entering traffic. And he has a propensity to drift far to the right that makes traveling on streets that have no right shoulder interesting. Other things, like pulling into the garage, he’s surprisingly good at. All in all, for a brand new driver he’s doing well.

Last night I let him drive a few blocks to a friends house. And this afternoon, figuring that the traffic would be pretty light, I handed him the keys and he drove all the way over to his girlfriend’s house in NE Portland. I know that I can be a bad passenger sometimes, so I took along my knitting to keep my hands busy with something other than clutching the door.

You can see from the picture (click to embiggen) that, after a few false starts, I’ve managed to get a sock going pretty well. It even fits me. 😀 I’m working a 2×2 traveling rib over the instep and up the ankle. I messed the pattern up in a couple of places, but the colors in the yarn keep it from being too noticeable. The heel could be better (it was worked in the car), but the toe came out pretty well.

The yarn is called Moda Dea Sassy Stripes. It has a lot of random colors that make stripes and interesting patterns as you knit or crochet with it. Unfortunately it’s acrylic, but it does have a nice soft hand. I’m thinking that these will make good bed socks or wear-around-the-house socks, and at least they will be washable.

Tonight we went to a movie and #1 son drove home. I live down what’s been described as “a really scary road.” I don’t know that I’d go that far, but there are no lights, and there is a stream running through a culvert on the north side, and it does go up and down and around some curves. And #1 Son does have that tendency to want to drift right while driving, and the stream was on that side…

It was too dark to see, but it probably would have been a good thing if I’d had my knitting with me.

I refuse to start Christmas until the day after Thanksgiving, regardless of how many decorations merchants put up or how early they start piping in Christmas music. But now it’s time. So below is my eggnog recipe, plus my recipe for post-Thanksgiving leftovers shepherd’s pie, a tradition at my house. And, why not, I’ll throw in my family’s traditional recipe for Tom & Jerry batter.

Over the river and up the freeway, #1 Son and I traveled to B’s & K’s house. Thanksgiving was great fun. B & K put together an awesome evening. It was a smallish, rather quiet group this year. But the company was pleasant, as always, and the food was yummy, as always. K was very brave this year and used paper plates and plastic ware. You GO K! I think that was one of the best ideas I’ve seen for a long time. Who wants to hand-wash all that china and stuff, not to mention ironing all the linen?

Well… OK, some people do. I like to drag my “good” stuff out every now and then, because I don’t get to very often any more. All the same, I thought there was nothing wrong with paper plates. They had turkeys on them, fergodsake, so they were very seasonal. 😆

#1 Son always feels as though it’s not a successful large gathering unless there is at least one crisis. Last year the boyfriend of the younger B & K daughter was supposed to bring the rolls. He found them in the trunk of his car after the meal was over. But we all gave him credit for trying.

This year the rolls were in attendence, but needed warming. So B placed them in a paper bag and popped them in the oven — the time-tested, traditional method of warming rolls.

But the bag accidentally touched the burner and caught fire.

So there was a bit of excitement for a few minutes while B threw the bags in the sink and eldest B & K daughter attempted to douse the still-burning bag, part of it in the sink and part fallen to the floor. For some reason she grabbed salt instead of soda to smother the fire. Salt doesn’t really work the same way… But eventually the fire was extinguised. Most of the rolls made it through the ordeal unscathed (and unheated).

#1 Son missed the whole thing. “There hasn’t been a crisis,” he said, disappointed, during dinner. He was even more disappointed when we told him about The Incident Of The Burning Bag. But he agreed that the evening was, therefore, a rousing success.

But when the evening was complete and left-overs were being divvied up, a new small crisis presented itself. “Where’s the paper bag I brought the sweet potato casserole dish in?” I asked B, while searching vainly through the kitchen. “I want to pack my loot in it.”

His reply: “It’s the one that burned.”

Oh. Oops! But another bag was found, and, loot in hand, #1 Son and I traveled back down the freeway and across the river and home. This year I will be the only one indulging in post-Thanksgiving shepherd’s pie, being the only two-legged household carnivore (the cats do not get my turkey!). So it will be a small batch, but one greatly enjoyed!

Click the link below for the recipes.