A very handmade Christmas

Now that the wrappings are torn off, I can show you some of the things that Robb and I made for gifts this year. Above is a knit scarf and hat set for Taylor. It's hard to believe she is already 14! Some hand knit accessories, if they are too matchy-matchy, can make you look like you are doing penance for not visiting your grandmother often enough. These two pieces made from totally different yarns in totally different styles seem to work well together without being too coordinated.



A little watercolor painting for Chere of her daughter Brianna giving a bottle to her granddaughter Mila.



A dash of red for Aunt Sandy. This is the Eleventh Hour Scarf featured on The Purl Bee not too long ago. It's obscenely fast to knit with gorgeous results.



So I whipped up a second one, this time emerald green, for Mom. This is her favorite color, but I could only find it in el cheapo acrylic yarn. Why, oh why, is it so difficult to find good quality yarn in vivid shades of green?



Robb used his recovery from surgery to get busy in the kitchen.



He made all of the cookies (sugar, peanut butter, brownies dusted with 10x sugar, and chocolate chip) and delivered tins to our 4 closest neighbors on December 23rd.



This is the best result I've had making the Reflection Hat, so I knit it up exactly like this twice: one for Aunt Sissy and one for Aunt Genny.



A scarf for Kate. She's big into the winter whites, but I couldn't get through an entire scarf without adding a few strands of color.



The embroidered shirt commission is finally complete. Although when I started stitching vines and curlicues on it, Robb the purist said, "There are no leafy vines on the Eiffel Tower." So I asked him how did he know if he has never been to Paris...touche!



And the quilt project chugs along. I crawled around on the dining room floor for three painful hours because I decided to tie the quilt instead of machine quilting it. I laid down some masking tape guide lines and stitched away. Right now the tying is complete, and I am ready to square it up and begin the binding. Maybe I will finish by Valentine's Day?

Peaceful protest

Twenty years after the Tiananmen Square protests, Sukey decides to make like Tank Man and protest the vacuuming of the sunny spot on the carpet.



Hell no, we won't go!



Sukey's Christmas wish for you: peace on earth.

As Ken would say...

...whatever you do, don't panic! Christmas is drawing near, and am I finished with the handmade of it all? Of course not. Remaining incomplete are:

*A handful of dishtowels. I can't remember who they are for or how many they wanted, so I figure I will just fill my purse with them and distribute them liberally throughout the holidays as if I'm sitting on a parade float and dishtowels somehow represent candy and beads.

*The finishing touches on the embroidery commission. Remember that? It's almost done. Whew!

*And *whispering* machine quilting an entire quilt. Yes, I just typed that. It's potentially doable since it's for a twin bed. But no way in H E double hockey sticks I'll get the binding on.

So really it's a matter of handcuffing myself to the sewing machine all day tomorrow. No help that I punched out of work at 12:53 am this morning and now am going back to Big-Box until nearly 8 pm tonight. I need to accept that today is a total wash. At least the shopping is done, right?

Good luck with all of your last minute holiday endeavors!

Welcome winter

The past several days in photos...

Trail ride

As we ride along the trail in the bright sun, I look at our guide Sean on the back of a tart appaloosa with its black mane cropped close. He is a modern day centaur in camouflage and blue jeans, turned around nearly backward in the saddle talking to George. As an infant Sean must have had gazed up from his crib at a mobile of slowly turning horseshoes. So fluid are his movements, so in tune with the pony, that he barely touches the reins until a nearby deer spooks his horse into a sideways leap. But the appaloosa gets in no more than a two or three reactive steps, and Sean already has him righted and calm.



Now I don't know one useful thing about horses or riding or being a farm girl. But I would take Sean's job any day over mine at Big Box.



Those were my notes from the the trail ride we took at the Circle R Ranch. The whole Mowery clan gathered at Deep Creek Lake one weekend this fall to celebrate Ken and Charlene's fortieth wedding anniversary. On Saturday when the rest of the girls went to the spa for manicures and massages, I joined the guys for some horseback riding at Circle R. We cannot recommend this establishment highly enough. The ride was about an hour, and they took special care to make sure that George and I--the nervous ones--were adequately prepared and comfortable.



This is me with my horse Cayenne. I have never been riding before, not since pony rides as a child. "Well, this horse hasn't been ridden since last summer," quipped one of the employees. Perfect match.



Here we are before the ride: Ken with Gypsy, Robb with Dolly, Gary with Sampson, George with Squirt, me with Cayenne, and Kevin with Vandy (although Kevin thought the horse's name was Bandy).



It took me a while to get the hang of holding the camera while maintaining a white-knuckle grip on the saddle.



While most of Maryland was carrying an umbrella, the far west enjoyed a sunny fall day with temps in the mid-seventies.



I was at the end of the line of riders, just behind Gary and Sampson. One of the two of them was flatulent in the extreme. Guess which one.



For the first half of the ride Squirt was testing to see how much George would let him get away with by veering off course. Just to keep the horse guessing, George did not use the reins to correct him and rather waved his arms in the direction he wanted Squirt to go, shouting, "That way! Go that way!" This more entertaining than effective.



And on the second half of the ride Vandy decided that the ride had gone on long enough. So she made frequent stops. Kevin started off giving her little taps with his heels but later resorted to smacking Vandy on the butt to get her moving. During one of Vandy's breaks, Cayenne took the opportunity to eat some fallen apples.



We sighted some natives on the ridge above us, but they let us pass unharmed.



My horse was old. Glue factory old. (Do they make glue out of horses?) Because of the hot sun and Cayenne's age, she began wheezing soon after we left the stables. Coughing. Hacking. Leaning her head way down so I was afraid I might slip right down her neck onto the ground like some kind of cartoon character. I patted her on the neck and said, "Godblessyou!" She was a good old horse.



And very thirsty when we got back to the barn. She earned a cool drink that day. So did I for getting over my discomfort with horses. I have never understood horse people and think that it's more than a little arrogant to assume that any critter wants me to ride upon its back. Horse people insist that there is a special relationship between rider and horse, the same kind of relationship that exists between dog and owner. So I tried to spend the day thinking of Cayenne as a large dog. A large dog that doesn't seem to mind when people sit on her. And that got me part of the way. But I just don't have anything analogous in my stable (pun intended). Can you even begin to imagine the first person who had the idea to capture and ride upon the back of a wild horse?

Random

On Saturday when we rescued that kitten from the side of the road, the folks at the animal hospital asked if either of us was looking for a job. Because I work at the dreaded Big-Box I am always looking for a job. I said sure, want me to fill out an application right now? So I did. The hospital called on Monday to let me know that Scarface the kitten, now known as Emmett, soon to be renamed again, has been adopted by a family with a little girl and can go home with them in a couple weeks once he gains some weight and is neutered. But also they wanted to set up a job interview with me, which was this morning, and now I have a job at the animal hospital. I start on Monday, January 4th. New year, new job. And I can put in my two weeks notice at the Big Box tomorrow. Thank goodness for lost little kittens!

Say hello to my little friend

About a mile from our house, on our way home from running errands all morning, Robb and I spotted a black ball of fluff toddling around on the shoulder. We pulled over to save the tiny kitten from being flattened by traffic. And after capturing the critter, turned around and took it to the Solomons Veterinary Medical Center. I held the kitten close to my chest while Robb drove. It meowed and tried to wiggle free a little but was friendly and definitely not feral. It was black with a white chest and paws. Tuxedo. With temperatures down in the twenties last night we were surprised that he made it through the night. He must have been wandering into the road to try to sun himself. Poor little guy.



They closed at 1pm, and it was about 1:15pm when we knocked on the door. But they let us in and looked over the kitten and gave us a list of phone numbers. Meanwhile the vet techs figured out that it was a 6-7 week old boy with a healing injury on his lip. They dewormed him, trimmed his claws, and gave him a dish of food. He was famished and ate until his belly puffed out. Several of the ladies there tried to convince us to keep him. I knew that if we could not find a shelter for him and had to foster him over the weekend then we would end up keeping him. With this in mind Robb called around and found a spot for Scarface, as he was named by the vet techs, with the Patuxent Animal Welfare Society (PAWS). PAWS was hosting an adoption event at the PetCo in California, MD, so we went back over the bridge with the little kitters to drop him off with his rescuers. And we gave them a little donation to help defray the cost of taking him in.



If you're in Southern Maryland and looking to adopt little Scarface the kitten or another rescued pet, check out the PAWS petfinder.