Honey, Can You Wrap A Couple Of Presents For Me?

If your husband is like mine, he claims to be completely incompetent when it comes to wrapping presents.

First, as background, Sean began kindergarten with a broken arm. He claims that being in a cast prevented him from learning the elemental skill of using scissors. It is for this reason that I am the designated cutter-outer of all things. This extends into present wrapping.

Sean begs me to wrap all presents from him to other people. For gifts intended for me, he will seek out a gift wrapping service. If one is not available, he will do one of a number of things:

• Put so much tape on the wrapping to hold it together, one needs a team of engineers to unwrap it.
  
• Wrap the gift in a "crinkley" style, where it looks as if the wrapping paper has been not only used three times before, but deliberately crumpled up before being wrapped around the gift with so much paper left over as would be enough to wrap the average christmas tree.
  
• Wrap the plastic shopping bag around the gift and tape it shut with packing tape.
  

I don't know why Sean has not discovered the magic of the dollar store, with it's various sized gift bags and tissue paper in multiple colours. Heck, I have enough gift bags recylced from years past to move the entire contents of our home by bag! And, I'm a total whore for pretty coloured tissue paper.

But, every year I get the wrapping requests. "But, you make the packages look so pretty," he exclaims, trying to distract me with flattery. And, every year I give in, enabling his loathesome habit.

I've fantasized about forcing him to wrap his own gifts. I just know my mother would look at a Sean wrapped gift and remark, "oh, how cute!" with the affection a mother-in-law gives to a beloved son-in-law. I can't stand that thought!

So, this year, I'm giving Sean an early christmas gift. The kind of gift that keeps on giving, year after year. I'm giving Sean a link to Martha Stewart's instructions on the perfect gift wrapping technique.

I love my husband enough to prevent future wrapping paper induced husband-o-cide.

**To everyone who expressed kind words about Jakes death: thank you. Everyone was so shocked and saddened by his death. There were no indications that he might have had any health problems and was a generally healthy, averagely athletic guy. It was discovered that an artery near his heart had a 90% blockage. Jake's death is a reminder to me to be the best person I can be to my family and friends right now, because tomorrow might be too late.

Shock and Loss

Jake had just put his three year old son to bed, his wife was out for a drink and the snow had been falling all day. He decided it would be a great time to do some shovelling.

He experienced some tightening in his chest and called his mother for advice. She advised he call an ambulance immediately, hung up the phone and ran the couple of blocks to Jake's house. She found him collapsed on the couch, sweating and clutching his chest.

The paramedics worked on Jake at the house and quickly moved to the ambulance. They stopped on the side of the road to do more work. At the hospital, the doctors could not revive him.

He was 34 years old.

My heart goes out to his son and wife, who are close friends of my sister.

The F@$%ing Tree!

I grew up with the saddest, most horribly ugly fake tree imaginable. It was a metallic version of a 6' tall Spruce, with long pokey metal needles. Putting it together was downright dangerous.

When I moved out on my own, at 18, I vowed to never again celebrate the Christmas holidays without a real tree.

Reasons I like real trees:

• They smell all piney good!
  
• Each tree is unique.
  
• They are relatively inexpensive.
  
• They are a renewable resource.
  
• They're real and not manufactured.
  

When Sean came into my life, he didn't like the trees so much. He complained about the expense of forking out money every year for a tree that would last about two weeks. He complained of needles in carpets and corners. He would complain about the pain it was to search for "the perfect tree" every year.

Chief among his complaints was the fact that living a busy life in an apartment, especially now with a growing boys, left little room for a tree.

Every year I would declare the christmas decorating season begun and every year my otherwise wonderful husband would begin complaining that we didn't have time, money, space or patience for trees. And, every year I threw a series of tantrums in order to get the tree I wanted.

Well, this year was shaping up to be no different. And, here we were, one week away from christmas and the only festive decoration up were the few cards that were sent to us, which I hung in the slats of the blinds in our living room.

I was gearing up for my holiday tantrum when I suddenly realised that I could avoid the entire fuss if I got a fake tree. A tree that I could haul up from the basement whenever I was ready and decorate to my liking. A tree that Sean would never have to pay for each year. One that wouldn't require any driving around or perusing of greenery in search of "the one".

I told Sean of the plan and, faster than you can say, "Merry Christmas", he was planning where to go to find this tree.

So, on Saturday, one full week before Christmas, we drove to Zellers, then to Canadian Tire, then out to Michaels, from there to Home Depot, back into town to Sears and finally to Zellers, again (but a different one).

We finally settled on a cheap little beast that was 6 1/2' tall and featured hinged branches and was pre-lit with 500 clear lights. It comes apart into three pieces for easy storage and all I have to do to put it together is slot the pieces together and hook the light cords into one another.

By Saturday night, halfway through Hockey Night In Canada (early game, where the Leafs were thoroughly trounced by Ottawa 8-2) the tree was up, lit, decorated and ready for admiring.

I didn't use all the ornament I have. I have a dozen long glass icicle-y shaped ornaments from the mid-20th century, given to me by my grandmother. None of those made it onto the tree because they are just too big for my little tree. But I'm happy with the results over all.

Kieran thinks the tree is magically beautiful. He can hardly keep his hands off the ornaments, which makes collecting antique glass ornaments a bit of a dangerous game, but he's proud to have helped create the final effect.

On Sunday morning he pointed to the tree and said, "I made that tree!"

Yes, Kieran, yes you did.

Kieran & Santa

Kieran visited Santa last night. I believe he told Santa he wanted a Thomas Train for Christmas. I'm pretty sure Santa wrote that one down in his book.

This Boy's Life

Without any kind of initial encouragement from us, Kieran came by his fascination with machines of all kinds naturally. It's in his DNA.

His father works in the music industry and I'm a writer; the last thing we expected in a son was a prediliction for cars and trucks and construction equipment and boats and airplanes and on and on. One of Kieran's first multi-syllabic words was "firetruck" and he's been saying "da bus", as if it were a single word, for longer than he's been telling us he loves us.

But, his grandfather is a mechanic. And not just any mechanic. He fixes buses! Big city buses!

And, while he has moved up the mechanic's ladder far enough to supervise the grease monkeys and not have to spend his entire day inside a diesel engine, the fact that Grampa fixes buses fills Kieran with an almost hysterical bliss.

We have so many machines of all kinds around the house, it's mind boggling. Grampa is a regular conduit of new machines for Kieran to play with, examine and dismantle. For my part, I'm passing along my love of all things SciFi, adding robots and rocket ships to the machine-y mix.

Today, Kieran manifested his genetic destiny: he went to work on his Radio Flyer Retro Rocket.

Other Lies I Have Told My Son

Along with the "just one more bite" lie, I have begun lying to Kieran about all manner of things.

It seems that lying is a slippery slope: do it once and it's only a matter of time before almost everything you say to your child is some kind of prevarication. Suddenly, it's all I can do just to tell the truth a couple times a day.

Some recent highlights:

• "We'll watch another 14 episodes of Scooby Doo later!"


• "Phew! Your feet are stinky!"


• "No, I don't want to watch Mighty Machines for the 300dth time, Mummy has to do work on the computer!"


• "Maybe Santa will bring that to you for Christmas!"


• "If you don't stop picking your nose, it's gonna fall off!"

Lists

List of Possible Christmas Presents

• The Da Vinci Code, by Dan Brown There is also a special illustrated/annotated version that I would love to have but my main desire is to read the damned thing. I love acedemic detective novels.


• G4 Powerbook So I can spend more time on the couch and Sean can watch his music DVDs without interrupting Kieran and I.


• A New Tattoo Cuz mamas with ink are kickass mamas.


• Serenity on DVD I can't wait to see this! It comes out in a week. I don't know if I can hold myself back. I am obsessed with the TV show, Firefly.

Funny Things Kieran Says

• "It too hard." In response to almost everything you ask him to do. And, that's pretty much all that's funny coming out of his mouth right now. But, I really crack up when he says this.

Me: Kieran, can you have another bite of your grilled cheese please?
Kieran: It too hard!

Things I Want To Knit

• Feather & Fan Shawl Yeah, I'm hooked. I'm plotting what weight to do it in and which colours to get from handpainted.com. I'm currently obsessed with the colour Lettuce Violet, but it's a super bulky wool and I want something closer to aran weight.


• Mrs Beeton A pair of frilly, feminine cuffs to keep the wrists warm and dress up a plain wardrobe.


• Executive Funk Another pair of frilly cuffs, this pair is a little frillier and a little lacier


• Plain Socks Anyone got a good pattern for socks that will stay up but don't involved a lot of stitch wizardry? I've got self-patterning yarn I want to use for my feeties.


• Viking Helmut If Kieran won't wear it, I will! How perfect! My transformation into the Black Metal Mama, Gorgoloo, is almost complete!

Things I Love To Listen To

• Viva Podcast! Greg and Lisa from Albequerque NM shoot the breeze and discuss life in New Mexico, movies, TV, their daughter and life in general.


• The Ricky Gervais Show Gervais and his writing partner, both of The Office (UK) have just started an absolutely hilarious podcast through Guardian Unlimited. Don't miss it!


• The Signal The podcast about all things Firefly/Serenity. I'm so hooked on this TV show that was cancelled a couple years ago but turned into a movie due to insane fan support. Learn how to swear in Chinese, listen to interviews with the cast and interesting essays about this very smart SciFi Western


• Cast-On An American Knitter in Wales, Brenda Dayne has begun a great aural knitting magazine.

And He Cooks, Too!

Kieran is right into the Helper Phase.

This phase doesn't last very long. It starts with an intense desire to become part of the daily running of the household and ends with the realisation that this means doing work.

It started a while ago when Kieran wanted to join me in sweeping up stuff. Sean and I thought it was terribly cute and drove up to the toy store in search of a kid-sized broom.

After walking around for a half hour, becoming more and more frustrated, I finally asked a clerk and discovered that kid brooms and all other cleaning related kid toys were in the grotesque pink and purple girl section of the toy store.

Have I ever mentioned how much gender segregation pisses me off? No? Well it totally pisses me off. Sean and I are forever thanking our lucky stars for having cooked a boy and not a girl, because any girl-child of mine would grow up hating me for banning all things pink and purple with sparkles and rhinestones.

What makes cleaning toys girl toys? Why are girl toys exclusively coloured pink and purple? Why don't they make Dora clothes in neutral colours without ruffles? How I miss the 70's with it's gender-inclusiveness, where girls and boys wore the same ugly polyester fake jeans under scratchy shirts with photos of galloping horses on the front.

*backing away from the angry rant*

Anyway...

Lately, I've been including Kieran in cooking. Sometimes, when there are no kid-friendly elements in the food prep, Kieran just stands at the counter with me. Most of the time, though, he helps out as best he can. He dumps soup into pots, stirs liquids, hands pieces of bread over and sprinkles chocolate chips into casserole dishes.

Kieran has a milk crate which is the perfect height for standing on at the kitchen counter. Last night he fetched the "stool" and stood up at the counter to help me make some instant pistachio pudding. He held the hand mixer with me and mixed up the sweet, green, creamy goodness.

I bet dessert never tasted better.

Richard Pryor dead at 65 - BREAKING NEWS - TV Squad

Richard Pryor dead at 65 - BREAKING NEWS - TV Squad

Goodnight Richard. We'll miss you, you crazy bastard.

Knitter's Envy

Since Kieran is napping like the angelic boy he is supposed to be and my SIL and FIL haven't arrived yet, I'll take a few minutes to tell you about the beautiful things I found while looking for a simple lace shawl to knit.

Now, I've heard about Feather & Fan this and that for a while. After a little lite Googleing, I found this pattern: The Feather & Fan Comfort Shawl.

Meh.

It's alright, I guess. But, it looks kinda like something one of our mothers may have knit after dropping acid in the woods at sunset with her other hippie friends. And, this particular example looks acrylic-y and just underwhelming.

But, this little piece of kitsch led me here: Handspun Feather & Fan Shawl.

Wow!

Who knew this hokey pattern could blossom into a work of breathtaking beauty? That's why I'm a knitter and not a Knitter: I haven't got the vision to see the possiblilities in the pattern. I also don't spin my own alarmingly gorgeous yarn to further expand my colour and fibre boundaries.

I would never have thought to put green and purple together.

This is why acrylics ultimately fail to capture the attention of seasoned knitters (except for those with wool allergies, of course): the exciting textures, colour combinations and mixes of fibres are unrivalled in anything but smaller batches of handspun. Whether done in one-off batches by hobbyists or larger but finite batches like yarn co-ops, handspun yarns are just plain exciting.

Then, I'm not sure how I got there, but I found this: Klaralund, in Noro Silk Garden.

I love this pattern! It has this kind of Kimono-like style and it looks like it's pretty simple to make.

The yarn is beautiful. But. It's Noro. So, it's pretty expensive. Even getting the yarn at a discount site like Knitwerx.com this sweater would cost me a minimum of $140 CDN to make. That does not include taxes, nor does it include the pattern, which can't be bought seperately. Gawd forbid I should require more yarn than the pattern outlines!

So, I'm sitting back and dreaming about this one a bit. I'll see where I am after christmas. Maybe Klaralund will keep calling to me.

In other news, I got two hanks of yarn from Handpainted.com today! I got my extra ball of Whales Road in Colonia 140 for Kieran's Accordian redux (I'll post the pattern as soon as I finish). I also took the plunge and bought a skein of Pirineos in Boutone. The Pirineos has a lot more green in it than the image, but it's still not bad. The blending of colours reminds me a little of recycled sari silk, but it's got a much more linen-like texture.

A lot of people have got this yarn (in varying colours) for their Clapotis' and are reportedly happy with it. So, I may consider getting more and taking the plunge. It sure would be cheaper than Lorna's Laces! ($21 USD as opposed to $81).

And, now that my SIL has arrived, it's time to go be sociable!

Whither Shawls

As a knitter, I hate making up anything. If everything could be knit in the round, I'd be happy. Seaming just makes me a little crazy.

So, I've been thinking about making the jump into lace shawl knitting. But I can't find any free patterns that I like.

I want something triagular, something with a single repeating motif and no crazy applied edging would be nice.

So, where do you find your lace shawl patterns? (And minus 50 points to anyone cheeky enough to say "A Gathering Of Lace" because, well, duh!)

Pants On Fire!

Yes, I deceive my son.

Am I proud of it? No.

Kieran has had some difficulty eating much of anything except candy. What with Halloween and then Christmas parades, we have so many pieces of candy in our house it would put a horse into a diabetic coma.

Sometimes, for a treat, I'll let Kieran have a lollipop. Or, after supper, he sometimes has a caramel with his dad. (It's not just me spooning sweet death into his mouth!)

But, expect my toddler to sit and eat a toddler sized lunch? You gotta be joking! That's where the lying comes in.

I remembered what Beth's pediatrician said about only expecting very young children to be good 60% of the time. So, my expectations of how much Kieran will actually eat have been modified downward. Then I remembered a discipline technique that said you should give your kids clear expectations about what you expect them to do. So, when it looks like Kieran isn't going to eat much lunch or dinner, I determine how many spoonfuls I will settle for and tell him that he can finish dinner after eating X many spoonfuls of Y food.

Sometimes that means 2 pieces of chicken and 1 pea and 1 forkful of mashed potatoes. Sometimes it means 4 more bites of a grilled cheese sandwich. Today it meant 3 more spoonfuls of "white" soup (Campbell's Cream of Mushroom, packed solid with crackers, a personal favourite since childhood.).

Relucantly, Kieran agreed to the 3 spoonfuls. So, in order to guarantee this will happen, I spooned the first mouthful into him. "Oooooonnnnnne!" I counted off dramatically.

"Twwwwwwooooooo!" I counted off as the second spoonful passed his lips.

"Threeeeeeee!" I finished as he clamped his lips around the third spooful.

And that's when I made my deal with the devil.

I quickly scooped up another spoonful, mumbled "two" in a little voice, and popped another spoon of mushy soup stuff into Kieran mouth.

It worked! He bought the lie! This was great! Thank goodness he couldn't count reliably well! I was going to milk his ignorance for all it was worth.

I kept spooning more and more soup into his mouth. Sometimes I mumbled a number while I did it, but most of the times I dropped the whole pretense of counting off his mouthfuls.

More and more food went into his mouth and I became bolder and bolder.

"C'mon! One more. Just one more honey," I would say, knowing full well that I never intended to stop until he threw a full-on fit.

Soon, he started to falter. I think, maybe, somewhere in that soft and squishy toddler brain of his, he began to realise that there was something fishy going on.

"No!" he suddenly protested.

"Just one more, sweetie," I pleaded, feeling my control slip and the guilt seep in at the edges of my conciousness.

"No!" he screeched. "That one bad!"

"This spoonful's bad? OK, I'll, uh, I'll just get you another," I fumbled. But, I saw my victory before me. I dipped the bad spoonful into the bowl and I moved it around, pretending I was getting a new spoonful of soup. But I wasn't! Haha!

I wasn't about to be defeated by a mere child! No, I was smarter than that. I had the power of evil on my side.

Back out came the spoon. I knew there was nothing different about it, but Kieran did not. Dutifully, he opened his mouth and ate up that spooful of crackery soup and then eagerly opened his mouth for more!

I duped that child into eating the entire bowl! THE WHOLE THING! That's why I'm the mom.

My Christmas Wish List

When I give gifts to other people, I follow one of two paths: I find or make something that would be perfect for someone or I ask them to give me a specific item they need and haven't gotten around to getting for themselves or can't afford for themselves. Of the two paths, I prefer to be struck by inspiration, because it generally means that the gift is direct evidence that I think of that person with love, instead feeling obliged to give them something.

So, I am sometimes reluctant to make a christmas wish list, particularly for my husband, because in my fanatasy of marriage, the man I love knows me so well and is ever looking for ways to please me that he constantly sees things he knows would really delight me.

Except that, even though I love him like the night sky loves the stars, I haven't got a freaking clue what to do for him for christmas. So, if I expect a list from him, I'm guessing he wants one from me.

Here it is. And it is doubling as a list of cool links for those who don't want to buy me gifts. Though, all gifts from readers are greatfully accepted! Haha!

• 52 Projects, by Jeffrey Yamaguchi


• Yarn!


• A Winter Coat


• Winter Boots


• A Wooden Umbrella Swift


• Finding Serenity: "Anti-Heroes, Lost Shepherds and Space Hookers in Joss Whedon's Firefly", Edited by Glenn Yeffeth


• Bras That Fit

OK, that's all I can think of. I'm sure there are scads more. In fact, I know that there are about 20 books of various types (knitting, sci fi, fiction) that I want, but Kieran and I are both sick so I gotta stop and try to be an effective parent to the sniffler whilst my skull tries to squeeze a diamond out of my grey matter.

Crappy Day

Sean was finally on vacation last week, so I was not in much of a posting mood. I'm sure you can understand.

So, that brings us to today. But I feel crappy.

It's one of THOSE days. It's a day where I feel cold and fat and weighed down by too many things and too many tasks undone.

I'm one of those people for whom the adage: a tidy desk equals a tidy mind. And, since I'm not working at a desk these days, that means the house needs to be tidy for my mind to be tidy.

Well, firstly, I'm not much of a housekeeper. I have task startitis and and even worse case of task finishitis. I grew up with a mother who badgered me while saying things like "if you're going to do it, do it right!" and the helpful, "when you do the dishes, you have to wash the sink out too, and clean the counters, and put the dishes away, and clean off the stove...".

Is it any wonder I hate doing any kind of housework at all?

I grew up poor, too. And then, at 18, I was forced to move out on my own, still trying to complete highschool, and accept social assistance. That ain't no way to live.

So, I never threw anything potentially useful away. And I had a compulsion to buy lots of very cheap things to fill my life up a little and excercise the need to buy things.

As a result, I have a home full of crap that I can't seem to get rid of and I can't keep any of it organized or clean. With all of this junk clogging up my gears, I stop being able to function.

Here I am, at a near halt, wanting to eat stuff to soothe my anxious soul. Or cry.

What I wouldn't do to own a gawdamned bathtub. Who needs Paxil when you can go for a soak.