Really getting into my afghan...

I really, *really* sound like a little old lady before my time :) I crochet and knit, read lots of books, and go to church a lot. But I also bellydance, so that redeems me a bit, I suppose. At any rate, I've refreshed my recollection of basic crochet stitches, and am up and running with a partially complete Christmas afghan. What I'll do with it once I'm done, I have no notion. Drape it on the sofa in November and December, I suppose. But I do find it a soothing evening occupation to sit on the couch and crochet or knit, a glass of wine or tea by my side. My goal is to finish up these as yet incomplete projects, and then move on to new things. Shauna'h is lobbying for an afghan for her new living room :) As her living room is decorated in autumn colors (red, cream and brown) I completely approve. (I read on another blog last week a comment that the writer "didn't like autumn." I was totally scandalized.) I'm sure my readers will be unsurprised to learn that my main pattern book is entitled "A Season of Afghans." I'm a season girl.

With knitting, my goal is to finish the scarf I'm working on, and move on to more ambitious items. The book I'm reading now, Back on Blossom Street, features a knitting shop and classes that are offered there. The current class project is to knit a prayer shawl. I'm fascinated. This seems to combine several important elements of the Catholic Librarian's life :) Maybe I can also attempt mittens and hats, and possibly move on to sweaters. Oh the possibilities!

Re-ignited hobbies...

Yesterday, I ventured into my storage to pull out my old crocheting and knitting projects. I'm a decent crocheter, although things take me absolute ages to finish. I'm a simpleton knitter, meaning my talents are limited to scarves and afghans. Exhibit A being the results of my search: a crate full of yarn, needles, three (yes, 3) half finished afghans, and one quarter finished scarf. I excitedly dove in. In the process I mysteriously located a beautiful wine velvet hip scarf, a kelly green veil, and a black beaded top. I won the belly dancers lottery! My sister (also a budding belly dancer) must have given them to me years ago. That's how long it's been since this beleaguered crate has been dusted off.

So anyway, I happily began work on the half finished Christmas afghan, and felt contented. It also helped that it was 8 pm, Bridezillas was on, and I had a glass of Pinot Grigio by my side. And Hank was comfortably sleeping. Life is good.

Bonus: I get to wear my new hip scarf to class this Friday :) We haven't had class since the Hafla, so I'm doubly excited.

Church with a toddler...

On Sunday, I went to the early 8 am Mass instead of the 10 am family Mass, since we had afternoon plans to go apple picking. What I liked is that the 8 am Mass lacked the contemporary worship music and instruments and just had an organist. Nothing wrong with guitars and flutes, I'm just more of a silence person in Mass. So, that was good. What was bad, you ask? Well, the 8 am Mass attracted, let's just say, a non-child crowd. Hank was the only child there. And he was bad. *Real* bad. Here's a sampling of dialogue:

Hank: "MOMMY. I want my Sponge Bob fruit snack."
CL: "Honey, remember, shhhh. You have to whisper in church."
Hank: "MOMMY. I *ARE* whispering." In a voice loud enough to be heard by half the congregation.
CL: "Honey, no you're not. You have to be quieter."
Hank: "I NO WANT to be quieter."

Later, he threw his jacket into the next pew, and then refused to put it on. I had to force his arms in. And then drag him out of the church. And across the busy road in front, where he deliberately *went limp* in the middle of the road. I had to scrape him up and carry him, arms and legs flailing, across the street while people stared from their stopped cars.

In the car, I threw and *locked* him into his car seat, and in no uncertain terms told him that (a) he embarrassed me, (b) I was *very* disappointed in him, and (c) he was never coming to church with mommy again. This led to Hank bursting into tears and screaming for the whole ride home.

Who can't wait to have kids?

Twenty Wishes...

I'm reading a cute book right now called called Twenty Wishes. The premise is based on a group of widowed women who get together to socialize and commiserate on a regular basis. On Valentines Day, in an effort to perk everyone up, one of them suggests creating lists of things they've always wished to accomplish in life. The goal, of course, being to accomplish at least some of these wishes. So far, I like certain storylines better than others. I'm enjoying reading about Anne Marie, the main heroine, who wishes to perform volunteer work and be more involved in her community. Through a school program for at-risk children, Anne Marie meets a little girl named Ellen, who helps her to overcome her grief and bitterness over losing her husband at a young age, as well as later finding out that he had been unfaithful to her. However, there's one woman who decides to treat herself to movies more often, and meets this jerk of a guy in the theatre, and somehow deduces that he's in need of nurturing and pursues him. That one just isn't doin' it for me.

So anyway, all of this got me to thinking of things in my life that I've always wanted to do. Travel to certain places, definitely. Alaska, Rome, Ireland. I hope to do that someday, but it won't be until I no longer have small children. I have wanted to take belly dancing lessons for a long time, and I'm actually doing that, so pleased with that one. *gold star* I'm honestly not sure what else I would put on my list - but it's an interesting thing to dwell on. When I don't have a toddler hanging off my leg, that is.

Disturbing discoveries of the day...

and it's not even 11 am. This doesn't bode well.

(1) Ladies room paper towel dispenser #2, broken for the previous week - now functional, but some sort of grafetti symbol has been spray painted onto its surface.
(2) Ladies room paper towel dispenser #1 - now broken.
(3)There is a large section of *wet* toilet paper *in one of the the library elevators.*

I'm sure this list will be added to throughout the day. I reserve the right to amend as events dictate. Today *really* sucks.

Long term effects of reality tv

I was sitting here trying to come up the names of the brides from this past Sunday's installment of Bridezillas and I realize that I cannot recall a single one of them. Am I insensitive? Or is reality tv rotting my brain?

Anyway, there was a real winner on this past episode. Whatever the heck her name was. Try to follow this logic:

Reception venue tells her (we'll just call her "Bride) that her next payment is approximately $3,000. She says that the check is in the mail, and based on that, signs a document stating that her remaining balance is $80. Two days before the wedding, Bride goes in to "pay off her bill" and hands the reception people $80 in cash. They tell her that she actually owes them $3,080, because they never received her prior check (which, of course, she never actually sent. She leaves that part out). Bride actually tries to argue that because they both signed the contract stating that her remaining balance was $80, that's all she should have to pay. She just flat out didn't send them the prior $3,000, and then tries to say that it's the *venue's* mistake and thus she shouldn't have to pay it. That takes a lot of nerve. They should have knocked $50 off just given that she could make that argument with a straight face. They ask for a certified check, and Bride refuses, saying that "she doesn't have time for that, I'm planning a wedding." The reception people do her a favor by accepting a personal check, but then they call the bank. *snorts* Yes, this gets good. The bank kindly lets them know that there is no money in the account. Bride gets called into a side room during the rehearsal and informed of the situation. When told that if she doesn't pay NOW, she can't have her wedding there, she acts offended, as if *she* has been wronged. I suppose we have to remember that this *is* a show about women who feel no shame in labeling themselves with a word that ends in "zilla." Classiness isn't exactly their forte.

Later, our bride throws numerous, embarrassing fits of temper. She eats pizza for a straight week and then blames the pizza delivery guy when her dress doesn't fit. I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP. Something about how the pizza didn't arrive until after 8 pm, and everyone knows that that is the magic hour after which the pizza will go straight to ones thighs. Oh, to live in her universe. On the day of the wedding, despite it raining all morning, the instant it clears (and about an hour and a half prior to the ceremony, HOURS after the inside venue was already set up and past the deadline on which she needed to let the reception people know if she wanted to move the ceremony outside) she insults her mother, says nasty things to the long suffering reception venue coordinator, and demands to move the ceremony outside.

I just remembered that I also don't recall the name of her new husband (poor soul). They rarely feature a large part in these shenanigans. I'll offer up my crappy day for him.

Stay tuned for next week :)

Morning stuff and weight update...

I will try to make time later to comment on Bridezillas from this past Sunday. It was a doozy :) Otherwise, I'm just having a busy morning. I just got back from a meeting with a faculty member about an information literacy assessment plan we're conducting with his class. Not exactly light stuff for 9 am :) The farmers market is today, so I'm plotting my pasta purchases. I've lost another couple pounds. *halo* I'm very pleased. I feel a lot better, both mentally and physically. It's a combination of eating more nutritiously, and being more physically active. I've started running again twice a week, and I try to get a walk in once a day. I've actually been enjoying cooking more, a first for me. So if you have recipes, let's share :)

Ladies room update of the day

Total # of stalls: 5
# of stalls with no toilet paper: 2
Total # of paper towel dispensers: 2
# of paper towel dispensers with no paper towel: 1
Total # of sinks: 5
# of sinks with absolutely disgusting *gobs* of hair littered on their surface: 2 (I'm serious - this person must now be bald).

Morning musings...

I'm currently on amazon.com looking at book's for Hank's upcoming third birthday. The child loves books, no doubt about it. They're tucked into every corner of our house, as well as loaded onto the full bookcase we had to put in his room to organize them. Over the weekend, I heard him awake from his nap. As I was walking up the stairs, I heard a plaintive, "mommy?!" I open the door, and the smell nearly knocked me unconscious. Hank was standing right at the door, book tucked under his arm, eyes wide with alarm. "Hank honey, did you go poo?" "YEAH." And he had a book, all prepared to entertain himself during the ensuing Pull-Up change. His strategy is very familiar to his mother, who wishes every time she is waiting in line somewhere that she had remembered to tuck that thin Harlequin romance into her purse. Even one minute of spare time is too long to go without a book to read. I think I'm going to get him his own copy of Curious George Goes to the Hospital. We had to return it to the library, and he's crushed. He keeps asking for it, poor thing. I've been on amazon for close to an hour now. I don't think I can ever tire of looking at books, even when they're not for me.

My husband, despite also being a reader, is much more of a movie person than I am. Every evening I have my nose stuck in a book while he tries to convince me to watch something on Turner Classic Movies with him. He tells me last night that perhaps this weekend we can have my parents watch Hank, and he and I have some time to ourselves - dinner and a movie. Unless the movie involves an enormous bucket of butter covered popcorn (for which I've starved myself for, saving calories during the rest of the day) I'm not interested :) Or, unless the movie is a sappy romantic comedy with a predictable happy ending, usually involving Jennifer Aniston. Mike's not so much into those. Anyway, he says "there's this movie I really want to see, but you may be too excited about the description. I hear it's excellent though, I promise!" "Ok, what's the description?" "Just remember what I said...Ok, so, it's about the guy who invented the intermittant windshield wiper..." "Right, well, I have to admit honey, this description is not exactly off to a roaring start." "But it gets better! The movie is about him losing the patent rights and then trying to get them back!" "Not exactly sweetening the pot, honey." *sighs*

My bellydancing debut...

So, B-day came and went, and I think it was a success. The Catholic Librarian is relieved that it is over, and that her only task now is to fill everyone in on it :)

We had a dress rehearsal on Friday, and that was my first inkling of the extent to which costume malfunction possibilities are a reality in belly dancing. Claire lent me a costume (a lovely bell sleeved, short blouse with a matching skirt in copper) to go along with my green hip scarf and veil. She had to re-sew elastic into the waistband of the skirt, so she couldn't bring it for me until dress rehearsal. After assessing the less than adequate ladies room situation, we gradually threw caution to the wind and changed right in the hallway (I overheard several murmurings of "I hope the janitor isn't around.") Routines commenced. I *really* liked the advanced class Spanish fusion dance performed to Hakim's Ah Ya Albi. My intermediate level class did our number - Entel Hob from the Bellydance Superstars 2 collection. The advanced class very sweetly and graciously applauded and encouraged us, which I truly appreciated. As we ran through the number, aforementioned costume malfunctions began to present themselves. Veils began to stick to sequins on blouses; sleeves began to get caught on hipscarf coins; and, most maliciously, veils began to catch on skirt hems, threatening to lift said skirt and expose the underwear of the bellydancer in question. Anxiety ensued. Modified manuevers were practiced. Bellydancers with furrowed brows went home, recalcitrant costumes tucked firmly under their arms.

Saturday morning I spent extra morning time with Hank and Mike, since belly dancing was going to consume the majority of my day. I arrived at the venue at noon for the combinations workshop that was being given by a well known local dancer. I perused the tables of fancy hip scarves, silk veils and other shiny costume things but didn't buy anything, for which I deserve a medal. Our workshop began, and four aching hours later, we finished. My hips *still* hurt. I don't think they've seen that much activity before, ever. There's only so much a girl can shimmy.

I went home for a quick bite to eat and for some more Hank time, and then returned, laden with my costume, for the Hafla. I went up to the dressing room, where coins and chiffon abounded. I dressed, practiced, and managed to convince myself that I had lost my veil only to discover that it was actually wrapped *on my body*. I was a little nervous.

Finally, it was time for the level 2/3 class veil number. We solemnly proceeded to our spots. The music began, and I began my hand undulations with rapt attention to detail. I unwrapped my veil, check. I draped my veil, and did my hip lifts perfectly. Gentle spins with veil swoop, check. Veil flip with undulations, better than average. Veil drop with hip sways, no prob. *sigh of relief* Then comes the tricky part. Veil forward, drop. Flip over head. Attempt to smile. Flip veil to front and step over carefully (allegedly saucily), while re-arranging fingers for upcoming envelope. I carefully begin raising my veil when I feel *it*. *It* being the distinct feeling of my veil catching on the back of my skirt, and lifting it for the world to see. I panic. In a graceful move, I reach behind myself and yank my skirt down off the offending veil. Well, maybe it wasn't so graceful. But at least the audience didn't actually see any flesh that they weren't supposed to. And Mike claimed that he didn't even notice, for which he was rewarded appropriate husband bonus points. Anyway, I envelope, hip sway, wrap veil into what Claire calls the "burqa" and proceed into our circle. Dismantle burqa at somewhat near the appropriate time and do pinwheel stuff with veil. Finally, we reach the end, and I have to do my 16 count solo. I walk forward, trying not to run right out of the room, do a veil swirl and a hip circle, and walk out, trying to look graceful again. The advanced class greets us with perky applause and well wishes, which make me feel better. I am assured that audience members did not notice skirt mishap. I feel relieved and go to change.

So, all in all, it went as well as it could have. Really, as one of my fellow belly dancers put it, no one else but you (and your classmates) know what is supposed to be going on, so as long as you smile, show no panic, and shimmy something cutely, the audience will be none the wiser.