Konichiwa!

Tonight Ivan and I went to Wegman's, the local grocery store. We ate dinner in their take-out area, and Ivan picked out a pair of chopsticks to eat with (i.e., play with). They had some writing on them, and Ivan asked, "what does that say, Mommy?"

"I don't know, it's something in another language," I said. "Maybe it says Wegman's!" "Well, maybe... I think it might be something in Japanese." Ivan asked, "like what?" "I don't know," I said, "I don't speak any Japanese."

"Konichiwa!" Ivan replied.

Um... Ok, then!

Is he trying to tell me something?

Yesterday as Ivan and I were walking back from town, he picked a bright orange berry off of a bush.

Me: Don’t eat that.
Ivan: Why?
Me: Because it could be poisonous!

(Pause).

Ivan, holding up the berry: Want one?

Ivan on the Presidential Debate

Me: Hey Ivan, guess who's on TV tonight? The guys running for president - Barack Obama and John McCain. Should we watch?

Ivan: No, I already saw that show.

Me: They're on again - it's different, they're on right now. Do you want to watch?

Ivan: No! I already saw that show! I've seen it already. I don't want to watch again.

Eyes for Computers

More Ivan. We were reading one of his favorite books last night, called Honey in a Hive. It is about honey bees and how they live, breed, build hives, and make honey. Last night Ivan was looking closely at one of the illustrations of a bee, and he asked, “Mommy, why their eyes look different?” I asked if he meant that their eyes look different from ours as people. He said yes. I explained to him that bees do different things and have a different purpose from people, and that their eyes are different for that reason – so that they can see what they need to see, and do what they need to do.

Ivan said, “Bees have eyes to see honey, not to look at the computer!”

Like people.

Ivan's Monologue

From today:

"Mom, you're not a weirdo. You're not any kind of weird, you are beautiful - you're beautiful because I love you. I'm going to marry you when I'm a daddy, and I will bring you flowers for your garden."

August Garden Update

Behold, the most beauteous sight I have seen all summer:


Yes, that's right. My landlord installed a water faucet on my side of the house! No more hauling water from my second floor apartment down to the garden. Also? I could get Ivan a kiddie pool! It might be a bit late for this summer, but we will see. For next summer, definitely.

Speaking of the garden, here it is:


It is very green and leafy, but not much has been flowering. The actual flowers (cosmos, echinacea, gomphrena, nasturtiums, black-eyed susans) have had minimal blooms. Vegetables have faired only slightly better. My pepper plants had some late flowers after a rough bug-eaten start, and have a couple of baby peppers on them. My beans have done pretty well, and so have the herbs. My cucumbers have been flowering extravagantly, but the fruits on them look awfully prickly, curly, and thin. Weird.

The tomatoes are the big mystery. The plants themselves are doing fairly well, despite only getting 4-5 hours of direct sun per day. They finally - maybe in late July? - had some flowers. Now a few of them have some tiny green fruits. My landlord's tomatoes - planted just on the other side of our house, and getting only slightly more sun than mine - are going gangbusters: tons of big, red, juicy tomatoes.

My next door neighbor, whose garden is almost next to mine, said that he also has had barely any tomatoes whatsoever this year, despite having successfully grown tomatoes in that same spot for thirty years. He claims the problem is chipmunks, but I am not so sure...

Hypothermia Among Friends

The water at Nauset Beach today was 58 degrees. I don't know enough about average water temperatures to know if that is particularly cold, but it was a good 10 degrees colder than a few days ago. However, my skin did not go numb while I was swimming this afternoon, as it sometimes does, so I know that it was not an extraordinarily cold water day.

I have to admit that I enjoy standing at the edge of the ocean, along with all of the other adults, as their children play in the chilly water. They shake their heads and look baffled at the kids' bravery/hardiness/insanity. I blend in with them, until suddenly I walk quickly into the water, all the way up to my neck. They are surprised, but going in all at once is the only way to get into such cold water. Also, if you don't move quickly beyond the braking point of the waves, they will knock you over.

Today I walked in near an older man wearing a wetsuit. He saw me and said, in a thick Boston accent, "Yah really tuff!"

Thankfull to be on Cape Cod

I am on vacation this week, on Cape Cod - my favorite place on Earth. Aside from the joy of swimming in the ocean (no chemical-laden pools for me!), something about the Cape speaks to me. The salty, sandy, chilliness of it - even on a hot day, there is always the hint of the cold ocean in the air - reminds me to be thankful. Life can be hard, keeping warm can be hard, growing food in the sandy ground can be hard. The ocean and the weather can both be cruel.

But warm days are gifts, and the vegetables and greens that do make it in the garden remind us that, as Barbara Kingsolver says, food is a process, not a product. The ocean is as healing as it is dangerous.

Yesterday I took a walk around the Cove Burying Ground in Eastham. There are many seventeenth-century gravestones in the cemetery, and one in particular that I always remember. I first saw Thankfull Hedge's gravestone many years ago while visiting this cemetery. I have wanted to go back and take a picture of it ever since, because of her great name. She was 13 when she died. Thankfull's two siblings are buried nearby, as is her father, who outlived all three children (the last one by only two days). It is unknown where Thankfull's mother is buried, or when she died.

Bees and Stings

I have discovered that I do not know enough about bees.

The phone call came yesterday, from Ivan's father, to say that Ivan had stepped on and been stung by a bee while on vacation at the shore. Ivan's father was talking hospital, Benadryl, infection. I told him that the good news was that we would shortly know whether or not Ivan is allergic to bee stings - a useful thing to know, I believe. Ivan, similarly practical, had screamed bloody murder upon being stung, but all he had to say about it when I spoke to him on the phone was, "Now I feel better."

And the good news is that he is not, in fact, allergic to bee stings. Good news, since one day I would like to keep some bees.

I was asked if the sting could really have been perpetrated by a simple honeybee - rather than a wasp, or a hornet. How did I know it was a bee? Well, I didn't. I hadn't been there. But I have stepped on plenty of bees - plain, unsuspecting honeybees - in my lifetime, and been stung. People do not like to believe that kindly, useful creatures like honeybees can inflict such sharp pain. But we all have our defenses, and the most docile among us will sting if provoked.

Ivan and I took a walk around our town just a few days ago, and discovered hundreds of honeybees working a large lavender bush. We were transfixed. Ivan said, "I've never seen so many bees before!" And, "Mommy, they're not stinging me!" Of course not. They are far too busy gathering nectar and pollen, and in any case honeybees don't sting unless they are very scared, or we do something to hurt them, I told him. He understood, and understood days later why the bee at the shore had stung him. Even for a three-year-old - maybe especially for a three-year-old - the logic of nature is simple and fully comprehensible.

But what about these bees? In southern New Jersey, where I live and where Ivan is on vacation with his father, who are these bees? What species? Are they different from honeybees elsewhere?

Stay tuned.

Two Ivanisms

First: When Ivan and I go for walks, I teach him the names of all of the plants I can identify. About a week ago, I showed him some Hosta and taught him the name. “Pasta?” he asked – “No, Hosta. But it does rhyme with pasta! That’s a good way to remember it,” I said.

Yesterday, a week later, we were walking and I pointed out some Hosta. I asked Ivan, “Do you remember what this is called?”

“It’s a spaghetti!”

Second: Last night we were laying on the couch after a full day, and I asked Ivan what his favorite part of the day had been.

“Mommy,” he said. “What, honey?” I asked – thinking he had a question. “Mommy!” “What is it? I’m right here, silly!” I asked again, “What was your favorite part of today?”

“Mommy was my favorite part of the day.”

Awww….

Oops, one more!

I forgot to include this photo in my entry about this year's Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival - a lovely picture of beautiful rovings from Gale's Art:

Maryland Sheep & Wool 2008

This past weekend was the ever-wonderful Maryland Sheep & Wool Festival. For my loyal readers (or, reader), you might recall that last year’s festival was where my lifelong refrain of "I’m a knitter, NOT a spinner!" began to break down. In fact, the breakdown took the form of a lovely drop spindle and about a pound of vegetable-dyed roving from Handspun by Stefania. The harder they fall...

So, a year – and one Schacht Matchless spinning wheel – later, I went down to this year’s festival with my friend K. On Saturday, we shopped. And shopped. And shopped. We must have spent a good hour going through the fleece show and sale alone. Imagine, two obsessive spinners with a yen to try fiber processing (and don’t get me started on my wonderful, stupendous, and as-yet barely used Strauch drum carder), in a barn with several hundred fleeces of every breed, color, and quantity. So fun.

My haul from the shopping extravaganza:

- One skein of Yarn Place’s Graceful Lace Yarn in shades of purple, from Carolina Homespun;
- Two 4oz Bluefaced Leicester rovings from Gale’s Art - nicest dye jobs I saw all day! - in Rose Garden and Stormy Sea colorways:


- Some unidentified wooly yarn goodness in two shades of purple to knit a felted bag;
- One skein of VERY GREEN yarn from Made By Eye that has already started to become a felted bag;
- Some acid dyes in shades of green and purple;
- Vegetable dye stuffs: Madder, hibiscus, alum, and tartaric acid from Stoney Mountain Fibers;
- A high speed whorl for Miss Ruth, my Schacht Matchless ST;
- One entire Rambouillet fleece (blue ribbon winner!) from the fleece show/sale: 5.25 lbs. from Roclans Farm:

- One entire Finnsheep lamb fleece from the fleece show/sale: 3.25 lbs. from “Max” at Shady Grove Farms:

- A lifetime’s supply of bamboo circular needles;
- A cute little sheep-shaped tape measure;
- A book on cheesemaking;
- Pretty much every kind of lamb sandwich, gyro, and other form of yummy lamb goodness that I could fit into my stomach.

The Rambouillet fleece is currently out for washing and processing at Morro Fleeceworks and will be split with K. and a woman we know from Ravelry.

I also slobbered all over a gorgeous Golding spinning wheel they had on display. Someday...

On Sunday, K. and I brought our three respective children down to the festival to see what all the fuss was about. After a week of weather forecasts involving rain for Sunday, the day turned out... perfectly sunny and dry. Not a cloud in the sky!

The kids had a good time, although Ivan was pretty tired and cranky all day. He did enjoy seeing the sheep, and the bunnies, and the sheep dogs, and he ate an entire ice cream cone. He also (being my son), tested out both a Schact Ladybug ("This is a wheel for little boys, mommy?!") and an Ashford Joy at the Carolina Homespun booth:

Pet Peeve #58957:

People who, when they realize that you disagree with them, feel compelled to repeat themselves a hundred times about the same subject.

Listen. Just because I disagree with you does not mean I am deaf. It does not mean that I "heard you wrong." It does not mean that I just need to "fully understand" you. It may mean that I think you are an idiot and a jackass to boot - but I guarantee you, pestering me endlessly along the same tired thread is not going to change that opinion one iota.