Where does the time go?

How is Monday over already?! This is my one day where I get to work at home (an attempt to find a day each week to concentrate without folks knocking on my door), and it's over! How did that happen?

What's worse, I spent the whole day working on one thing. I mean, it's great to have it done, but it might have been nice to do something else, for just a minute. It's a co-authored paper that I'm editing, and I found myself very annoyed by some of the suggested edits, because they're more a British/American thing than the kinds of substantive edits that I am usually happy to address (as in, there was a comment along the lines of "uses punctuation wrong"; excuse me?). But if it's just a dialectal style thing, it seems like it would be very hard for me to know how to change what's "wrong", since I don't speak or write any dialect of British English (is this the linguist in me coming out?). I mean, I wouldn't demand that someone respell "colour" in my edited volume... Ah, well, it's done. I wish, thought, that I'd also had time to think about an abstract I'd like to write for a conference in New Zealand next summer (love NZ, would like to go back). Tomorrow, however, is another day. (I'm starting to feel like a mix between Little Orphan Annie and Scarlett O'Hara -- now there's a book with one of the world's best opening lines...where's my copy of that book? I could get into that right now...)(That parenthetical is evidence of what I call the shiny-object-distraction syndrome that takes me sometimes, in which I tool along down one train of thought, until, Oh, look! A shiny object! And I'm off in a different direction. Others might call it distractable. I choose to think of it as whimsical.)

I took the girls to the Mingei yesterday in Escondido to see the origami exhibit, which was truly amazing. I mean, look at this dragon:
It's made out of one 9x9 foot sheet of paper. Seriously. I'm in love. And there was a crane:
And a nautilus:
And wouldn't you have loved this for a wedding bouquet?
There was more, but I will try not to go overboard here. The kids got to take origami lessons from different people, and had an absolute blast. After errands, the day ended with a potato and ham frittata, baked tahitian squash and green beans, followed by a strawberry-rhubarb crumble (I love the farmer's market). After another chapter of The Blue Djinn of Babylon for the kids, it was bedtime for them, and work time for me.

I'm starting to feel like we've really lost the work/family balance thing, and it's distressing me quite a bit (not to mention being a strain in discussions with R about these things). In my optimal world, work happens at work, during the day, and evenings and weekends are for time as a family. Sometimes that doesn't happen, but when it doesn't happen more than it does, I get fretful. I know it means it's time for a change, but it's hard to control what and who has to change for it to really ease up, y'know? I guess I can only do what I can do, and leave the rest alone. Meanwhile, it's lentil stew for dinner tonight, and, with this paper done, maybe I can actually knit after the kids go to bed. Fingers crossed, everyone, fingers crossed (meanwhile, I'm sending out good paper writing thoughts to everyone else who's working on one right now, too!).

WIPs

It's been a week. Every time I thought I'd be able to sit down at work and have an hour or two to get something done, something else came up -- usually a student, with questions that I have answered a hundred times in class, but which apparently needed to be answered again. I should point out that I really don't mind working with students who don't understand something (in fact, I love it -- the lightbulb moment is always a thrill), but it's very hard to answer the same basic questions again and again. When I have said in class, many times, that prepositions always come before a noun phrase (hence the name; they must be pre-posed relative to something, right?), and a student sits in my office asking, "so, do you mean to tell me that there's always a noun phrase after a preposition", I want to answer, "not only do I mean to tell you that, but I HAVE told you that for the past seven weeks -- where were you?". I know this is impatient, but it's not a question indicating a lack of understanding; it's a question indicating a lack of paying attention. And spending many hours during the week answering exactly this sort of question can be wearing.

OK, rant over (I'll save the rant about students who snigger in class when presented with information that makes them uncomfortable for another day). What I'm really here to do today is to say that I have, in fact, been knitting (it's a miracle!). Moreover, there has been progress. Oh, frabjous day. Kauni first. I knitted along merrily this week, passed the point where I had gotten to before frogging (as measured by the small ball of yarn external to the center-pull ball), and kept going. Then I got to the point where I had to put in steeks on Wednesday night, quailed a bit at the thought (I'd never done it before, how was I to know it was easy?), and put it aside for a night. However, last night I girded the ol' loins and hit the needles. The result was two beautiful little armhole steeks.
I didn't get much further than that, but I was so relieved to get the first step of steeking done that I sat and admired it for a while. (Can you imagine how I'm going to be when it's time to cut them? Y'all are going to have to come hold my hand.) Of course, it's quite worthy of admiration, in my opinion. Look:
And a little closer up:
I'm glad I frogged it (I know, I know, a lot of griping led up to this realization; thanks for sticking with me through it all). I think the color changes are much nicer this way.

While I was avoiding the casting on of steeks (yes, it was easy, no I shouldn't have been avoiding it, but I'd never done it before, and it therefore required thought, not to mention math in figuring out where the armholes needed to be; next time I'll dive right in, I promise), I worked on the Boudica socks -- bet you'd forgotten about those.
I'm not very far along on them. I don't know if it's because of the small gauge (I'm knitting them on size o needles), or because I'm knitting them on two circulars (I've never done that before, and while I know that in the long run it might be faster because there are fewer needle changes, it's been a learning process, and I think I'm resistant because I am just so charmed by dpns), or because I am just no good at memorizing patterns, even very easy six-stitch, four-row patterns (more on this tomorrow), but whatever the reason, I am not flying through these. This is a bummer for two reasons: I really like how they look, and the yarn is lovely, so I'm sure I'll enjoy wearing them; and, I have this Dream in Color yarn staring at me from the copper bowl, shouting "knit me, knit me" in its little yarny voice, and it's killing me.

Now, I'd probably cast on the DiC anyway, if it weren't for these:
(or should I say, "this"; to date, this is all I have). It's the Cherry Tree Hill Sockittome Fall Foliage yarn. And this is how far I've gotten. I think I know what the problems are with this one. First, although I absolutely adore how this yarn feels, and I think it's going to be great on the feet, it is very splitty, and it tends to stick to itself, in that I'm-mixed-with-a-bit-of-acrylic way that is different from the way that wool adheres to itself. Together, those two factors mean that I'm not enjoying knitting it as much as I might. Second, I had considered actually writing up whatever pattern I end up creating for these and maybe submitting it to CTH, since they're looking for patterns for this yarn. I think I am going to let myself off the hook for that, since it seems to be freaking me out more than exciting me when I knit them. I keep asking myself whether the pattern is really showing off the best features of the yarn, and whether I will be able to figure out how to write it up, and whether I should frog it and try something different, ad nauseum, and I think I'll be much happier if I just think of these as nice socks for myself and lay off the whole developing-a-pattern mindset (especially since I've never done it before, and it's starting to feel like another publication to add to my growing list of articles that must be revised and/or edited). So, that's those socks -- what do you think of the pattern and the yarn together?

I treated myself this week to something I've been wanting for a while, given how much I enjoy knitting socks. Sock blockers:
I got them from The Loopy Ewe, and they make me very happy (if for no other reason than that I find it difficult to take pictures of a sock on my own leg without looking like I've got fat ankles). They also make me happy because this order elevated me to Loopy Groupy status (my husband finds this funny for some reason, and chortles whenever he hears it, nodding and saying something about how he already knew I was a member of that club), and I got a package with all sorts of lovely little presents from Sheri; I thought about posting pictures, but figured it'd be more fun for anyone who might end up ordering a lot from The Loopy Ewe to get to be surprised the way I was. Either way, it was a nice end to the week.

One last treat: it rained and rained last night, and T's soccer game was cancelled this afternoon (SoCal grass apparently being not very hardy), so our day suddenly got a lot more relaxing. Therefore, this afternoon, I'm taking the girls to the Mingei, where they're having an exhibit on origami, including origami lessons for kids. Meanwhile, I think I'll knit a bit. Thank goodness for rainy Saturdays.

Why I love my daughters: Reason #890,325

Two bits before I discuss the latest reason to love the girls beyond all reason. First, I already did, so this is nothing new.

Second, I should explain a small parenting quirk of mine that comes from being a linguist. It has to do with the handling of the learning of swear words by small ones. Many many years ago (and really, far too early in her career as a speaking human being), the older small one, being about three years old, acquired the f-word from a child at daycare (said child had an older brother, and was therefore quite precocious). I learned this while driving home one day, when, in a contemplative tone of voice, and clearly trying the whole thing on for size, T said, very clearly, "f**k" (avoidance of spammers here, rather than any problem with writing this particular word). Then there was silence.

It was clear from that silence that she knew that something was supposed to happen at this juncture in the conversation. Probably something fairly spectacular; after all, why go to the trouble of learning such a wonderful new word if it doesn't serve as some kind of conversational trigger? Of course, the linguist in me was merrily theorizing: from whom had she acquired it, what did she think it meant, was its meaning shifting in some interesting way from the prototypical meaning of the word (that is, "sex") to something more like "word which gets a reaction", what did she expect me to do now, and (finally, I know you were waiting for this) what *should* I do now? Mind you, my attitude towards the whole thing was the rather unorthodox, well, it's a great word that's very useful in a number of contexts, and frankly, it's a miracle she hasn't heard me say it before now, but I'd really rather she didn't say it in front of, for example, her teachers or grandparents. So I took the linguistic approach.

I said, "Boodle" (she's the boodle, her sister's the ick -- which is a diminutive suffix in some languages, rather than an expression of disgust; what do you want from me?), I said, "Here's the deal" (the girls told me lately that this is the phrase that says to them that things are getting serious; I had no idea), I said, "That is a great word. It's very useful sometimes to have a word like that in your vocabulary. But here's the thing. It's really a word that's for adults to use, rather than children. People don't expect children to say it, even if you're very upset. So, let's say you can use it in front of mommy if you want, but it's probably better not to upset people by using it in front of anyone else."

Further silence. Then, "OK". And that was all. She tried it again in the car a day or two later (cars being wonderfully safe places for trying things like that, since she was sitting in the back and couldn't see my face), and that was all. I was pretty sure the lesson had taken when, several months later after nearly getting hit by someone running a stop sign (note the car context again), I said, "S**T!!". And then I said, "Oh, s**t, sweetie" (this is a recursive sort of thing that's hard to stop), "I'm sorry". And she said (bless her), "That's OK, mama, it's a grown up word and you're a grown up. I'll say shoot instead." Heh.

So, this is all a long lead-in which will help to explain why we were having the following conversation in the first place. We were in the car (!!), and I got cut off by an idiot, whom I duly called an idiot. Older daughter tells me that she's not particularly fond of that word, since it seems rather mean. I pointed out that I wasn't so much being mean as describing the person factually, but that I could respect her stand on the matter, and did she have any alternative suggestions, because frankly, I needed something to call this person. She wasn't sure, so I suggested "newt brain" (I thought syphilitic newt brain might lead the conversation in directions I wasn't ready for). Both girls thought that was still a bit harsh (I'm looking forward to rehashing this conversation when they're 16), and suggested bird brain instead. I told them that it wasn't really strong enough to describe someone this lacking in sense, and older daughter thoughtfully said that there was something she'd read in one of her books that might work. I told her to lay it on us. She said it was "thrice-accursed son of a b-word" and added, "but I'm pretty sure I'm not supposed to say the b-word" (ah, how the early lessons of youth do stick). I agreed with her that no, the b-word was on the grown-up word list and probably not so good (mental note: check older daughter's books more carefully next time). Younger daughter suggested "thrice-accursed bird brain" as a useful alternative. We thought about that for a moment, and then I said, "How about thrice-accursed newt-brain", which received a resounding YES from the back seat. So, this is our new term for bad drivers.

I still think thrice-accursed son of a syphilitic newt-brain has a nicer ring to it. But that's another conversation.

A meme!

Wanda has tagged me for a book meme (thanks, Wanda!), so, after knitting and contemplating last evening, here goes (fair warning, I have trouble making decisions, so I cheated and slipped in multiple answers for some):

1. Hardcover or paperback, and why? Paperback. I love to carry books around wherever I go, and hardcovers are heavy. They're also unwieldy to hold in one hand, or to read while lying down.
2. If I were to own a book shop, I would call it... This one should be easy (I actually worked at a naming and branding company for a while), but I find it oddly difficult. Maybe, The Magic Carpet? I know that it would have lots of comfy, squooshy chairs, and maybe a cat or two (I know, hard on allergic folks, but this is my fantasy), and space for children to sit on cushions in the kids' section to look at the books, and coffee and tea and scones (ditto re the spilling, but again, it's my fantasy!).
3. My favorite quote from a book (mention the title) is..."There's nothing half so much fun as simply messing about with boats." Wind in the Willows. This is an unfair quote of me to put, since I've never read that book the whole way through, but it's one of our family's favorite quotes in spite of that fact. Maybe because we all love the water.
4. The author (alive or deceased) I would love to have lunch with would be...I think I'm going to go with a bunch of other people and say Madeleine L'Engle. Can I have her and Ursula Le Guin together? And there's this small part of me that would like to meet Heinlein, just to see if he's as sexist as he seems in his books (which are, nevertheless, wonderful stories)(I guess I could add Chaucer under the lunch-with-apparent-sexists-who-are-nevertheless-interesting list, too).
5. If I was going to a deserted island and could only bring one book, except for the SAS survival guide, it would be… This was a hard one, but I kept coming back to one answer: the OED; not only does it have all those nifty words, but all of the quotes of their first attested use with each meaning! It doesn't get much better than that. And, if I could slip it in, The American Heritage Indo-European Root Dictionary.
6. I would love someone to invent a bookish gadget that… held my book and turned the pages, so I could read and knit without having to use spare silverware to hold books open.
7. The smell of an old book reminds me of... Used bookstores, and the excitement of finding a good book, and of opening it, and wondering what it will be like, and who has read it before me, and what they thought of it, and who they were, and why they bought the book, and then sold the book. I think I prefer used books to new -- I get not only the story in the book, but the story of the book (even if I have to make it up myself).
8. If I could be the lead character in a book (mention the title), it would be…either someone who has come through hard times with their integrity and sense of self intact, like Cordelia Vorkosigan in the Vorkosigan Saga or the main character in L'Engle's A Severed Wasp, or someone who can do impossible things that belong to a fantasy world, like Egwene al'Vere in the Wheel of Time series. But I'd want a ticket home for afterwards, so I could tell the girls all about it.
9. The most overestimated book of all times is…most bestsellers. The sequel to Dune.
10. I hate it when a book…is so badly (or, frankly, over-) written that the writing distracts me from the story.

Oh, boy. Now I have to tag people. Forgive me if you've already gotten this one; I'm only mentioning a few people, but join in if you want! Anne, Janice, Stell, Adrienne (that's what you get for drawing my name out for a prize!).

I made progress on both the sock and Kauni yesterday (yes, I have taken it out of the doghouse, and am now back where I was before the frogging began; it's behaving), and, with luck, I'll post a few pictures this evening, when I've finished wading through a pile of papers to grade, and another pile of papers to read to prep for class tomorrow (!!).

Internal views

Thanks so much everyone, for your input on my rant the other day. It's good to know that I'm not the only one who thinks that this sort of activity (both the boy vs. girl and group criticism session) is more damaging than helpful. I'm waiting right now to hear what the teachers who were running the session think/were thinking/are planning to do (they come in once a week to do this class; it was Tess' main teacher who was so understanding). Meanwhile, I'll keep talking to Tess about it to mitigate some of the effect (luckily, the kids in her class really do get along well across both age and gender lines, so I don't think that this is something that will hurt that in the long run).

Yesterday, we went to the Bar Mitzvah of the son of a friend of mine. I've known him now for over five years, and it's amazing how much a child changes during that time. It was wonderful to see him standing in front of everyone in Temple, so confident as he read in Hebrew. There was a party afterwards at my friend's house, with a great mix of people, including a number of her son's friends from middle school. At one point during the evening, I happened to see Tess, standing back and watching the girls from middle school as they were dancing and joking around. I could see on Tess' face that for one moment, she was seeing in those girls the self that she is going to be in a few more years. There was no envy or disappointment that she wasn't like them, just a sense of two selves, separated on a timeline, a looking-forward with no attachment. It stopped my breath for a moment to see her, seeing herself so clearly.

It doesn't happen often, to see one's children in the middle of these internalized moments. When Kivrin turned five, the same thing happened. We had all gone out to lunch with a few friends to celebrate (Rubio's -- her choice), and I had given her a set of dress-up jewelry (both the girls are huge fans of dress-up). She unwrapped it, and put on the clip-on earrings, ring, and tiara, and as she adjusted the tiara on her head, for one moment, she smiled. It was a smile of such surpassing sweetness, it stopped my heart. I could see in her face that she was seeing herself as lovely, as grown-up, as Five. She didn't need to look to us to tell her that she was all those things; it was entirely internal, an awareness of who she was at that moment.

What is perhaps most wonderful about these moments is that when I see my daughters seeing themselves, there is a powerful sense of acceptance and of love. I don't think that I look at myself with such grace and open-heartedness, and I would that I did. That holding of self in esteem is something that is all too often lost on the road to adulthood, at great price. I want so much for them to hang on to it. Yesterday's celebration gives me hope. I saw Adin standing there in front of a room full of people, and when he looked at us, it was in the confident knowledge that he was loved, and that there was nothing to fear in the experience. Later, at the party, he played his saxophone with the band, and he had that same pleasure in the doing, that same lack of fear that he would be disregarded or mocked. I could never have done that at his age (hell, I probably still couldn't); I would have been sure that I'd be made fun of for making mistakes, or for even thinking that anyone would have wanted to hear me in the first place. But it clearly doesn't have to be that way, and I don't want it to be for my girls.

BTW, here they are, all dressed up for yesterday. Note: they deliberately choose dressy outfits that match. I am well aware that this will change at some point in the near future, but in the meantime, they like it (these are the same girls who, in spite of all their quarrels, choose to share a room, and seem to like playing together), and who am I to argue (even though I know that people think I'm some strange psycho-mom)?


There is some knitting content here, if you've stuck with me this far. Yesterday I bought the second of Barbara Walker's stitch dictionaries (no, I do not have the first, but I couldn't buy all of them, and the second one was bigger; yes, I am a bit childish that way). Wow. I mean really, wow. I spent last night and this morning looking through it, and I am simultaneously completely thrilled by the thought of all the things I could *do* with those stitches, and crushed by the fear that I will never be the kind of creative knitter who could come up with those sorts of beautiful patterns on my own. However, I already have Plans for some of those stitches, and am about to go and frog the beginning of the Cherry Tree Hill Fall Foliage sock, which wasn't working out quite like I'd planned anyway, and which I think will be much better with some of these new patterns. Here it is, so far:
Now that I look at it again (in spite of the blurry picture) it's not bad. Maybe I do like it, and I'll go with this for this pair, and try something new on another pair. I'll try a few more repeats and see how I feel. Decisions, decisions...

Ooh! I just saw that Wanda tagged me for a book meme; now I get to think about books while I knit. Thanks, Wanda!

Of gender and classrooms

Warning: minor rant incoming (at least, it is planned to be minor; I'll try to stick to that, since there's yarn content to be gotten to before dinner comes out of the oven).

I picked the girls up from school today, and as we were walking out to the car, Tess was giving me the update on her day. I was listening with half an ear (I was also thinking about how to go to the store to get milk, and what homework needed to be done; you know how it is). I heard her say something about her human values class, and that she was an ambassador for the girls (here's where my attention was caught) to bring their complaints about the boys to the boys' attention.

Huh?

So I asked some questions. What do you mean ambassador? She told me that their assignment for human values this week was for one ambassador from the girls (her) and one from the boys (someone unnamed) were to gather from their constituencies complaints about the other group. They were then to bring those complaints to the opposite ambassador, who would negotiate a change in behavior on the part of his or her constituency. She mentioned that she'd already gathered some complaints from the girls, and that they included poor hygiene, general aggression, name-calling, etc. The boys had already levied complaints about gossip.

I about foamed at the mouth.

Two general issues come up here. One is the whole boys versus girls thing. I teach future teachers. We discuss with them the pedagogical and social problems with setting up a constant boys/girls, us/them mentality, and how to avoid it. And here these people are, advocating it. In particular, setting up a complaint sharing in this way is just asking for stereotypical complaints to arise, and lo, they did. (I'm telling you, I'm tempted to write a paper about this, I honestly am.) I also have a very serious problem with the "you all do these things, and I know it because someone said so, but I can't tell you who" set up here. It's exactly *not* what I'm trying to teach the girls. I would SO rather they felt able to walk up to a person honestly, say, "this bothers me, can we talk about it", and go from there. Grrrr...

So, I called her teacher. She was as upset and surprised as I was (the human values program has generally been very good, and I like what they talk about). She's going to talk to them, and deprogram the kids, and I've spoken to Tess. The funny thing is, this being a Montessori school, the kids are less concerned with gender issues that I've seen elsewhere (and frankly, the girls are just as dirty and aggressive as the boys, who gossip plenty!). So, we'll see what happens.

OK, rant over (for the moment).

I got some pictures of Kivrin's socks this morning:
(note the toes turned out in approved Irish dancing fashion) I'm pretty happy with them, especially given that they're all my own design (such as it is). She's quite charmed with them herself, and insisted on wearing them to school, which is the reaction that a mother wants. Of course, I didn't quite manage to use up the sock yarn, so I still have little tiny dribs and drabs of the Cherry Tree Hill and the STR yarn. Ah, well.

I also got my Dream in Color today! Three colors, and I love them all:
Those colors are (from left to right): Summer Sky, Beach Fog, and Visual Purple. The strange thing was that I almost didn't get the Visual Purple, and at this moment, it's the one I'm most excited about knitting up. Funny ol' world, isn't it?

And now back to our regularly scheduled chaos

Wow. You'd think I'd get to bask in the glory of getting last week over with, wouldn't you? Now, don't get me wrong, I'm in a much better state that I was last week; I'm even sleeping every night. All night. Going to sleep right away, even. Life is good.

I just mean that the other things that I should have been doing while I was doing all the stuff I was doing last week were not found mysteriously completed when I turned around and looked at them again. Nope, they're still lined up, waiting patiently, looking at me with slightly quizzical expressions, as if to say, "and you thought we'd be where, exactly?" They love me. They are willing to wait for me. I should be more touched by this attitude than I am.

On the knitting front, I'm almost done with Kivrin's second sock (yay!), and I'm hoping that an almost-three-hour academic senate meeting today will put me over the top (in the good sense of having achieved something, rather than in the running-around-stark-raving-mad sense). (BTW, do you think it's a bad thing that at Monday's reception for recent aquire-ers of tenure, when congratulated by the VP of academic affairs, I told her that I am just glad it's over because, as I've told my kids, I can now run around campus nekkid and they can't fire me? She laughed, and then said, "until we could prove mental incompetence". I'm going to assume she was kidding.) These socks were the victims of major distraction yesterday afternoon, although I'm back on track now.

See, Kivrin's been wanting for ages to do something that her big sister doesn't do, and hasn't done before her. Gymnastics has been mentioned, as have various forms of dance. When we were at the Scottish Games last spring, we watched the Highland dancing. When it was over, she looked at me quite seriously and said, "I want to do that. Like them. Me." Well, that was pretty clear. So, yesterday, I took her to a nearby studio that does Irish dancing (not the same thing, but if she loves it and wants to switch, we can make the longer drive to Escondido for another studio later), and she started in. She loved it. And it was so much fun to watch her learning her jump-two-three (new terminology!), that I wasn't paying attention to my knitting. So, I knit a beautiful heel flap, in the STR as planned, then merrily and neatly picked up stitches all along the edge, started along the instep, and then realized that things looked a bit odd. It took me a minute to figure out what you all probably saw right away, which was that I'd forgotten to turn the heel. Doh!

I've wound my beautiful new Cherry Tree Hill into pretty little balls. I was a bit afraid of the colors when I got the skein, because the orange part looked so big and, well, orange. But when it's wound, you can see that the color changes are quick and beautiful, and the orange really makes the other colors pop. Here is the hank laid out:
And now, wound into little balls (I split it in two, so I'd know how much I have for each sock).
It's a little blurry, but don't they look exactly like fall? I am very happy with these, and can't wait to start knitting. I've got some ideas for putting a pattern together that's very autumnal, and we'll have to see how they work out.

Part of the reason I can't wait to get started is because Sheri got some Dream in Color in over at The Loopy Ewe, and I have been dying to try it (everyone who writes about it says such nice things). So I bought three skeins. (oops) But I'd like to get at least one of these socks done before casting on with that, so I've got to bust a move.