Easter Sunday

Oh, boy! We're going to hunt Easter eggs! Oh, boy!

Cody and Zach Moore

 

Hide them really well. We don't want it to be too easy.

Dennise and Johnny Moore

Waiting to be found.

Purple egg.

I've got my bag. I'm ready to start.

Annie

Now, where are those eggs?

Brittani

I'll sniff them out and find them all!

Annie

Ahhhh! Where are those eggs???

Cody

I'm never too busy to pose.

Shelbi

Mama, where did you put those eggs?

Brittani and Dennise

I think there's one in here.

Cody

Don't you see it, Uncle Mike?

Cody and Mike

And the surprise is what's inside.

Cody and Zach

Semi-Wasted Day

I woke up this morning thinking it was Sunday. Easter Sunday, and I didn't have a thing to wear. I couldn't wear my spring clothes because it had turned cold during the night and I would freeze. Cody would wear his new suit, of course, so he was set, but what would I wear? As I lay in bed and pondered my dilemma, wondering where the weekend went, it slowly dawned on me that it was not Sunday after all. It was only Saturday, and I still had my weekend. Whew!

I'd been hearing advertisements on the radio about a new pet store in the next town down the road, so we decided to drive over there and see. It was a major disappointment. First off, it wasn't even open. There was a tiny, handwritten note on the door which said, "I can be reach (yes, just like that) at ###-####", but the door was locked. I peered in the windows and figured it was all for the best anyway. The "pet store" consisted of two or three aquariums and a few random cages scattered about on the floor. Very few supplies or anything. There weren't even any racks or shelves. Just stuff in piles on the floor and the single table in the room. Very disappointing.

I'd brought my camera, so on the way home, I handed it to Cody and instructed him to take interesting pictures. Here are a few of what he came up with--including his very own :

I was dumbfounded when I saw this trailer house. Could it be that someone actually thinks that is pretty?

I love these old dirt roads that lead off into nowhere. Makes me want to see what's at the end of them.

A swamp in the Mississippi Delta.

I also finished my April dishcloth.

And finally, in the spirit of Easter:

Happy Easter to everyone!

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Quotes

I decided I'd rather spend the evening knitting instead of blogging, so there's not much to write about. Since it turned cold these last couple of days, it is perfect weather to do just that. So, to kind of fill in the lack of blogging material, I decided to share with you some of my favorite quotes. So here they are, in all their glory:


I love deadlines. I especially love the wooshing sound they make as they fly by.--Douglas Adams

What we love to do, we find time to do. --John L. Spaulding

To invent, you need a good imagination and a pile of junk.--Thomas A. Edison

Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it.--Confucius

The artist is nothing without the gift, but the gift is nothing without work.--Emile Zola

It is not fair to ask of others what you are not willing to do yourself.--Elanor Roosevelt

The important thing is not to stop questioning.--Albert Einstein

We cannot waste time. We can only waste ourselves.--George M. Adams

I'm not obsessed. I'm just highly preoccupied.--Anonymous

This shows how desperate I'm getting at finding things to sketch. This is the case that holds my Epi-pen.

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I'll Never Get Finished

if I don't quit starting over. This is the third of my 10 WIPS that I've ripped and started over.


See, it's like this: I'd been contentedly knitting away on my Magic Loop socks, just making a plain vanilla sock with a 6" leg--as is my custom. The whole time I was knitting, there was this background noise. I sort of sub-consciously knew it was there, but wasn't paying any attention to it. Happily knitting along, I'd gotten all the way to the toe decreases of the first sock when the background noise finally broke through my consciousness.

It was the yarn. It was telling me that it didn't want to be a sock. I tried to ignore it and continued knitting, but like a nagging child, the yarn got louder and more demanding. It didn't want to be a sock!

Very persistent, this yarn is. It finally got to the point where I could no longer tune it out. I broke down and asked the yarn what it did want to be.

Ankle socks.

The yarn wanted to be ankle socks. I told the yarn no, it couldn't be ankle socks. After all, I was nearly finished. I was on the toe decreases already! I'd spent too much time knitting it into regular socks. I wasn't going to rip it out and start over this late in the game. Why couldn't the yarn just be happy being a regular sock?

But the yarn was insistent. It wanted to be ankle socks, not regular socks. And it would not be denied. What else could I do?

I ripped it out.

I am now knitting it into...*sigh*...

ankle socks.

But the yarn is happy, now...

Cherry tomatoes on the vine.

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Blake and Stuff

Blake can really get on my nerves sometimes. I just don't like his attitude. He skips 6 months of classes at a time, then comes in with the attitude that he owns the dojo. Still and all, I'm glad he's back. When he does come to class, he comes to work. We spent much of the night last night teaching each other the other side of two man basics. He knows one side and I know the other. We both want to learn the opposite side. Blake picks things up much more quickly than I do, so I would walk him through my side, then get James to talk me through the other side as we did them together. If Blake decides to stick around, he may spark my enthusiasm, which has been lacking of late. I don't know, though. He's already begun to talk about leaving after the kids classes.

James, on the other hand, is getting more and more out of hand. Last night, I had to smack him three times to get him focused on doing two man basics with us. Before that, when we were doing regular basics, I had strained my knee at work. Sensei always tells us that we know our own limitations and not to do anything that would cause us to hurt ourselves. When we were doing the kicks, I did a full speed, full force back kick and it really hurt my knee. For the rest of the reps, I did them slower and about half power. James noticed and started yelling, "Cheater! Cheater!" like a little 5 year old would do. James has been in the dojo longer than any of us. For so long he was the highest ranking student. Now, I've passed him up, and next month Joshua and Barrett will pass him up. He is slipping lower and lower on the totem pole, and he doesn't seem to realize that it's his own fault...

Josh and Barrett were working on their own two man basics when Barrett kneed Josh in the groin. As Josh was rolling around on the floor, we couldn't resist getting in a few digs. "Don't you have a cup?", someone asked. "Yes, it's in my bag," Josh replied. "It's not doing you much good there!" I said. "Well, I wasn't expecting full contact sparring until after class," Josh answered. About that time, I turned to Josh's girlfriend, who had accompanied him to class and said, "I hope you weren't planning on having any children!" The look on her face was priceless.

After class, sensei and I were talking, and he said he wanted to start the black belt class the 16th of this month. I'm excited about that. Then, next month, Josh and Barrett will be able to come as well. I asked sensei if the Greenville dojo had gotten air conditioning yet. There was some talk that they were going to. He said no, they hadn't. Then he said that the more the board thought about it, the more they realized they should have never done our test that way. My test? Yes, sensei said they said that those conditions were intolerable, and they shouldn't have done that to us. I kind of agree, because it must have been at least 120' in there, and that kind of heat just drains all your energy. Still and all, I feel a certain sense of pride that I tested, and did well, under those circumstances.

Oh, and when I entered the dojo, sensei bowed me in. It totally caught me off guard, because he'd only done that once, and that was after I'd fussed at him. I think Blake said something to him, and that's the reason he did it.

Ok, so I always get to bed late on karate nights. Last night was no exception. But I hadn't been asleep long when thunderstorms rolled through, waking me up. I went back to sleep pretty quickly, but was awakened sometime during the night by the cat. Seems a bug of some sort had gotten into the bedroom. My early morning symphony went something like this:

Rustle, rustle, thump!

Skritch, skritch, thump!

Thump, thump, thump, thump, THUMP!

Squeak, jiggle, jiggle, jiggle. (That's when she jumped onto the bed.)

Jiggle, squeak, squeak, THUMP! (That's when she jumped her fat self off of the bed.)

Pat, pat, pat, THUMP!

"CAT!!!! Leave that bug alone and go back to bed!"

A rather battered cardboard box at work, complete with oil stains, fingerprints, and half melted rubber band stuck to the side.

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Grandmas

Lou posted a really nice story about her grandmother today. It's worth a read. It also got me to remembering my grandma. I don't really have a lot of those kinds of memories of her.

My maternal grandmother was named Edith Elizabeth Wright. When I was 3 years old, she had a massive stroke that left her right side paralyzed. The stroke also affected the speech center of her brain and for the rest of her life, she was never able to speak clearly. Though I was still very small, I remember going with my mother to take Grandma to physical therapy. Grandpa hadn't retired yet, so we took her to her appointments. There was another man in there who would scream. One day as he was passing through the waiting area, I asked him why he screamed so much. "Does it hurt," I asked? "Yes," he responded. "Sometimes it hurts." The next day he gave me his little exercise ball that the therapist had given him.

The stroke happened in June of 1967. Sometime before that--I believe it had to be that same year, because I remember it so clearly--we went camping. Grandma and Grandpa had bought one of those pop-up campers. Dad had bought a tent, and we all went camping together at Lake Sam Rayburn. Grandpa liked working with wood, and had made me a little stove and a cradle. He'd made my brother a double Ferris wheel. I remember this because Rus got to bring his Ferris wheel, while I had to leave my things at home. To add insult to injury, he wouldn't let me play with his Ferris wheel. I had to play with the much smaller, cheap plastic toy Ferris wheel that was bought from the store.

Grandma and Grandpa also had a boat. They took my brother and me out fishing. Grandpa put the minnow on my little hook and told me to put it into the water. Having the patience of a three year old, I pulled my line out about every 10 seconds to see if I'd caught anything. Grandma told me to leave my minnow in the water for a long time, to give it time to grow up, she said.

"How will I know when it's grown," I asked?

"I'll tell you," said my grandpa. After what seemed like forever, Grandpa told my I could pull my line out. When I did, I was astounded to discover a big fish where my little fish had been! "How could it have grown so big that fast," I wondered? My mother says I screamed, threw the fish back into the water and tried to climb out the other side of the boat, but I don't remember that.

That is double special to me, because not only was it the first fish I caught, but it is also the only memory I have of my grandma before the stroke.

Grandma died when I was 14. Soon, Grandpa remarried. We weren't quite sure what we should call our step-grandmother. We didn't want to call her Grandma, because Grandma was Grandma, but it seemed disrespectful to call her Vivian. Finally, my sister just came right out and asked her, "What should we call you?"

"Just call me Granny, like the rest of my grandchildren do."
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Museums and Fingers

I'm going to an art museum. *Dances around with joy* Cody's art teacher is taking her students on a field trip to the Brooks Museum of Art in Memphis next month. Cody just happened to mention to her that I might like to go along as a chaperon, so she sent me an e-email asking if I would. Of course, I said yes. Cody and I have been wanting to go there for a long time. Best part about it is that since it is a school trip, our admission will be free.



Yesterday's and today's actually. I think I might know what this pattern will be. Here's a hint: Easter is this Sunday.

You may wonder why I call this my crooked finger. Well, it is slightly twisted, though not so much that it is glaringly obvious. When I was in Navy boot camp, I got it crushed in a fire hose. Being more on the paranoid side back then than I am now, I was afraid that if I went to sick call, they would put me on medical hold. I didn't want to spend one day more in basic training than I had to, so I just ignored my injury. I think it might have been fractured. It swelled up to nearly twice its size and stayed swollen for several days, stiff and sore for several weeks. I eventually regained full use of it, but it remained just a little crooked. In retrospect, I probably should have gone to sick call, but no lasting harm was done.

Maybe someday I'll tell you about the time I think I broke my leg. I don't know for sure, because I never went to sick call...

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An Unusual Malady

I suffer from a most unusual malady. I suppose others have this same affliction, but it is something nobody talks about. Those of us who suffer from this malady do so in silence. But I am here to break the silence today and announce to the world that I am afflicted with:

Seminar Anxiety

That's right. I suffer from seminar anxiety. I get anxious when I go to karate seminars. My knees get week, my palms get sweaty, my heart rate and breathing both increase, and my bowels loosen. Ok, you may not have wanted to hear that last part, but it's what happens when I get nervous. While others get excited about seminars and look forward to going, I dread them and try to find any excuse I can to get out of them.

It all goes back to my very first seminar, when I was but a yellow belt. From the very beginning, I'd felt that sensei was advancing me too fast. It isn't just me, either. Every other serious student I've talked to has felt the same way. I was promoted to yellow belt after only two months of training. That is fast, even by our dojo standards. It usually takes 4-5 months of training to make yellow.

A couple of weeks later, the Greenville dojo hosted a seminar. Sensei felt it would be beneficial for me to go, so I went. The first thing we did after bowing in was run through the basics. They did them differently than we do, and I was totally lost. I couldn't even do the basics right. The other two yellow belts in attendance didn't seem to have any trouble with them, but I couldn't do them. Mr Finn, who was leading them, turned and gave me a look that plainly said, "What the *&^^ are you doing with a yellow belt if you can't even do the basics?"

I was mortified. I felt like I'd shamed my sensei and myself. I felt like I didn't belong. I felt like I had no right to wear my belt. As soon as I could, I went and sat down and didn't participate any more.

By the next year, I was a purple belt. I went to the seminar only because sensei was testing for his 4th degree black belt. I actually did dress out, but before the seminar even started, I lost my nerve and took off my gi. I didn't participate at all.

A year later, I was a ni-kyu--or second grade brown. I went to a seminar in Oxford hosted by the Ol' Miss Karate Club. About halfway through, they decided they wanted to do all the kata together as a group. When we got to kata I didn't know, I stepped off the floor, which is how we do it in my dojo. Other students were doing the same thing, so I didn't think anything of it. However, when he got to the last kata, the guest instructor spotted me and began publicly berating me for not knowing that kata. When he realized that I was only a brown belt, he stopped criticizing me, but he never apologized to me for humiliating me like that. That was two years ago. That was the last seminar I ever attended.

Next month, Barrett and Josh will be testing for their black belts. After the test, there will be a black belts only seminar. Sensei says I need to go to it. Larry Dreher is really excited about it. Everyone seems to be looking forward to it. Not me.

I'm dreading it.
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Saturday Sky

Early morning Saturday Sky, taken about 7:30, before it clouded over and started raining. And as a bonus, since I can't seem to think of anything interesting to blog about lately, a Saturday Sunset picture.

Taken after the rain. Actually, during the last few sprinkles of rain. If you look closely, you can see drops on the lens.

Yeah, blogging has been slow lately. I dunno what the problem is. I just can't think of anything that might be interesting to anyone. Y'all don't really want to hear about me doing laundry then watching House on DVD all afternoon, do you?

Buck had a couple of interesting things to say this morning--especially the part where he talks about being terminally busy. We are programmed by society to believe that we always have to be doing something--that we have to accomplish things every day. We are made to feel guilty when we are resting, for rest is unproductive. I kind of long for the old days when things like knitting were considered admirable work rather than just a hobby. There were days in our past when if a woman didn't knit, her family went without socks or gloves. Nowadays, knitting is considered a leisure activity. A waste of time. Never mind the fact that hand knit socks are better quality and will long outlast anything bought in the store. Never mind the fact that my hand knit washcloths last far longer than store bought cloths. Never mind the fact that a hand knit sweater can last a lifetime. No, you should be up doing something useful, not just sitting there knitting.

Now, if you were sitting there idly watching T.V., well, that would be OK...

Miscellaneous Stuff

Practicing eyeballing perspective on a table at work.

My brother and my nephew Joshua celebrating Josh's third birthday.

Only 5 months and one week until NFL kickoff weekend! H/T to Vera for posting this on her blog.

The school's band festival is this weekend. Cody's band played this afternoon. They scored top scores in both performance and sight reading. They played the same songs they did at last night's concert.

Monty finally ate, so the only snake still fasting is Slider. Hard headed rascal.

The art school that I finished this test for finally got in touch with me--rather my answering machine. It took them nearly a year and a half to contact me. I don't know if I will even call them back. I don't know if I can afford it now. Eighteen months ago I could have--but things have changed since then.

Ummm, I can't think of anything else, so I guess I'll get back to knitting.

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Spring Band Concert

Once again I am amazed at the skill with which these kids played. This is the first band, or Symphonic band. The second band is called the Concert band. They are good, too. But not this good. But then, my child is in this band, so I'm a bit biased.

*If you can't see the videos, try again later. *

First up: Flourish



And then: In The Valley Of The Ancients. I've heard high school bands that don't play this piece this well.



Pretty good for a bunch of 12 and 13 year old kids, huh?

Cody

Cody has a band concert tomorrow night. They are required to wear Sunday dress, which in my church is pretty casual. I decided he needed something a little more dressy than jeans, so we headed in to Wal-mart this afternoon. The intention was to buy some khaki pants and maybe a button down shirt. Cody, however, spotted the suits.

He wanted one. He really wanted one. And after being the one fussing a few months back that nobody dresses up any more, how could I refuse? We bought the whole she-bang--jacket, pants, tie, even socks and shoes. He had to go get J to teach him to tie the tie, but he caught on pretty quickly. And the shirt is a smidge too big, but it was the smallest men's size they had. He's long outgrown boy's sizes.

But doesn't he look good?
You know what he said when he got home? "If I had a cane and some Nike Shox, I could do House imitations."
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And It's A Pair

One of my socks is no longer lonely. I finished this pair last night.

I still have one more single sock that I need to knit a mate for. I did cast on for it this afternoon, but decided to spend my time working on my WIP list instead. I finally picked my Irish Hiking Scarf back up. I'm knitting it in worsted weight yarn with size 8 needles like the pattern calls for, but the resulting fabric seems so stiff and thick. Maybe it'll soften up after I wash it. Nevertheless, next time I make this pattern, I think I'll go up a size or two on the needles.



That's my cell phone, in case you can't tell. I am getting desperate for ideas of what to sketch. This is why I quit doing it last time. I just ran out of ideas.

Which Jane Austin heroine am I? Funny, I ended up being one from a book I haven't read:

Take the Quiz here!

:: E L I N O R ::
You are Elinor Dashwood of Sense & Sensibility! You are practical, circumspect, and discreet. Though you are tremendously sensible and allow your head to rule, you have a deep, emotional side that few people often see.

Karate was interesting tonight. We started off doing slow motion kicks. If you've never done that, I recommend it. All it is is doing your basic kicks in very slow motion. It's good for building your leg muscles and improving balance, in addition to refining your kicking form. We went from slow motion kicks to speed drills. That was an interesting switch. We finished off the class doing bag work and kata.

We have a new student--well fairly new. She's been coming for about 3 weeks now. Somehow I don't think she'll last. She seems more interested in the boys than in karate.

I asked sensei once again about the black belt class. He said, "Yeah, I need to get that started." Josh and Barrett test for their black belts on May 5th. He'll probably get it started after they get promoted.

Lastly, one more quiz. Are you Yankee or Dixie? Me? I'm 96% Dixie.

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Exciting News!

A couple of weeks ago, I mentioned that I'd boxed up some hats for charity. I actually sent them to the Yarn Harlot's Represent event in New York City, where they would be displayed, then donated to a charity. Imagine my thrill when I visit today's entry of her blog and see the picture of the hats displayed. Yes, there they were! My very own hats! I could see them! Right in front! Wow, what a thrill!!!!

Ok, you non-knitters out there may not think it's a big deal, but it is to me. She's famous among knitting circles.

Guess what happened today. I had some errands to run in town, so I told Cody I'd pick him up after school. I reminded him as I walked out the door this morning not to get on the bus. So after work, I drove up to the school and guess what. He didn't come out the door. So guess what I did. No, I didn't just drive home. I went looking for him. I didn't find him anywhere. I drove all around the school, and even went inside looking for him. No Cody. I figured he'd forgotten and rode the bus home as usual, so I went and ran my errands. By the time I got through, it was past the time the bus usually drops him off, so I called home. Sure enough, he was there. So I went on home. But I didn't just drive off when he didn't come out the door.

I thought the whole situation was strangely coincidental, considering yesterday's post.

Coffee cups have always been a favorite thing of mine, even though I don't drink coffee. You can drink anything from a mug--milk, water, diet Dr. Pepper....

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Heroes

or What I Find Attractive In A Man, Part 2

Ever since Cody was 3 years old and drew web all over himself and declared himself to be Spiderman, we have been fans. Ok, I am more of a fan by association, but Cody is a big time fan. I was really surprised that I liked the Spiderman movies. They were really good. In the first movie, Uncle Ben tells Peter "With great power comes great responsibility." Words of wisdom I wish our government leaders heeded more.

In the second Spiderman movie, Aunt May tells Peter,

"I believe there's a hero in all of us."

The Riverside housing addition was built down by the old Navy base back at the beginning of World War II to house the families of those stationed there. It was never meant to be more than a temporary housing situation. Once the war was over, it was supposed to have been torn down, but it wasn't. Some 40 years later, the houses were still there, and still occupied. That was where the poor folks lived. The really poor folks. It was also where the problems that always seem to follow poverty ran rampant--alcoholism, drug use, broken homes, prostitution, crime. We called those who lived in Riverside river rats.

Mike was a river rat. He was poor. He didn't have many opportunities to advance himself. He wasn't very intelligent. When class rankings came out, he ranked 274th out of 365 students. While he was not bad looking, he didn't exactly turn heads as he walked down the hall, either. He wasn't athletic. He was tall, but he was a bit on the chubby side. He wasn't academically inclined either. He was just in school to graduate then survive the best he could. He drank and used drugs. He wasn't exactly anyone's idea of a hero.

We were friends for a while. We didn't date or anything like that, just talked between classes. We eventually drifted apart. We had nothing in common. We couldn't even find enough in common to carry on a decent conversation.

One day, just as school let out, I was walking toward the exit where my mother usually waited to pick me up. Nicholas Demary grabbed my arm and pulled me into the cafeteria. He wanted to get his books, he said. Once there, he said he wouldn't let me go until I kissed him. For some 20-30 minutes, he kept me there because I refused to kiss him. Finally, some teachers walked by in the hall outside, and I was able to get away. My mother had already left by that time, so I had to walk home. I spent the whole time looking over my shoulder, afraid that Nick might follow me, but he didn't. When I got home, my mother asked me where I had been. I lied and told her I'd stayed behind to help a teacher.

Now, if I were picking up my child in a place where I knew he was supposed to be, and he didn't come out the door, I wouldn't just go back home. I'd go find him. But maybe that's just me.

After that day, Nick made my life at school a living nightmare. He was always threatening me, saying he was going to take me out behind the field house and teach me a thing or two. Or he'd get me behind the band hall and show me what's what. I dreaded going to school, but I was afraid to tell anyone. I was afraid it would get back to my mother, and of course, she would blame me. She'd say that I must have done something to give him ideas.

Mike's last class of the day was right next door to mine. We would sometimes stand in the hall talking until the bell rang. Since we had so little in common, we never really had much to talk about. "Look, there's my buddy Nick", he said to me that day. Mike turned around just in time to see the look of disgust on my face. "What?" he asked. "Has he been giving you a hard time?" I simply nodded.

The last thing I saw as I turned to go into my class was Mike charging across the hall and slamming Nick against the wall. I don't know what Mike said to him, but Nick never bothered me again after that.

Mike and I lost touch after graduation. I don't know what became of him, or what he made of his life. He may not have changed the world, but I'll never forget him for what he did for me that day.

The day he was my hero.

That's what I find attractive in a man.