Back in the Knitting Game

Blogging has fallen by the wayside for me in the last years.

I have tried to get back to it every now and then, but something ( usually life) got in the way.

Enough excuses. Yes, I am still knitting. Yes a lot has changed. 

I tried Instagram- it's okay but too 'instant'

Facebook? No need to explain that!

Back to blogging it is then!

Pictured is my Isacaire Pog (Kiss a fisherman) sweater. My first go at steeks, combining colorwork with traditional Aran patterns and just overall New Knitwear Designer experience. 
I had a hard time decreasing in pattern on the sleeves, I must admit. And the torso should have been longer, but I thought it was a  good first go.

I plan to knit one again, with the previous items corrected. In addition, I will actually write the pattern down! 

Welcome to Wilber County 2020!

New Arrivals

There has been a ton of animal activity the recent few weeks. Not to mention human activity. (My poor blog must have thought I abandoned it. The guilt in the aftermath of an epic nine-hour design/edit/publish frenzy yesterday jogged me enough to have me sitting here on a soggy Sunday morning playing catch-up.)

First: I'd like to introduce Lucy and Ethel and Luigi the Love Goat's new kids:

There are two boys and two girls. We haven't named them, because.. well Boers are meat goats. I think that says it all.

They sure are fun to watch running around the yard.

 They also seem to like hanging around on my deck. The cats aren't quite sure what to think of them. Jezebell seems to like having stand-offs with them.

Of course the kids are enamored with the off the charts "Squee-o-meter" of how cute these little guys are.

Of course, Mountain climbing is just a natural thing..

Not to mention playing King of the Mounting Block. 

One of the best things Farm/Ranch life can bring is the delight of baby animals.  City people just don't have it this good. 

With that, I'd like to announce :

Folk Magazine is the absolute BEST Magazine one can subscribe to. It's all small town from cover to cover, and even I can advertise for a reasonable cost. (That's saying a LOT). I recently won a subscription! Here's the cover of the Spring Issue:

Click to see:

Here is what Folk is all about

Here's the gig: I get to choose a winner of a year's subscription as well! All you have to do is take a little time to read and comment (maybe even follow!) on what you like most about Folk and WilberCounty. 

I will contact you by March 1 and get your mailing address to get your new magazine!!

Thanks for stopping by!

Marilyn

two more weeks

I finished fall term with no less than three emotional breakdowns. That's pretty big for me.

Winter break has been a  much-needed reprieve.

I have been helping my sister feed the horses and goats in the morning. It's a great way to get out of the house. Otherwise, I'd be in front of the computer knitting all day.

I need to get the Christmas sewing done, or nobody gets their flannel jammy pants I try to pawn off every year.

Luigi the love goat has been successful with his ladies. In just  a couple more weeks, we will have the pitter-pattering sound of baby goats bleating and trundling around the pasture. According to my sister, nothing is cuter. (I might object- a baby Panda is pretty darned cute. So is a piglet. But that's an argument for another day).

Feeding the horses is a great way to eliminate any grouchiness you might possess. I start up the quad, (four-wheeler) and the dogs go crazy. Whiskey and Babydog think they are quad-herders. They circle around me like sharks in a feeding frenzy. It's hilarious.

I load a couple bales of hay, and head out to the field, where the geldings are standing at the gate, looking at us like we abandoned them forever. They are muddy-faced from rolling. Sometimes we have to re-adjust the horse blankets because they've all but torn them off. (Horse blankets are for keeping them dry, not so much warm. In W.Oregon, dry is the more important of the two). It's a sight to see: Dogs wagging and barking, horses standing around me trying to snag a bite of hay, me waving my arms to get them out of my way.

When I'm done, I race around the field with Babydog chasing me. It's a good work out for her. A way for me to get better at riding a quad really fassssst. (I see the appeal- those things can move.)

Then it's the mare's turn. Snoopy and Nocona are pretty patient- they act like it's no big deal. But soon as I get through the gate, her comes Snoopy running full tilt at me. I zoom off and she chases me. It's too funny.
Then I stop, and this is what I see when I turn around:

Snoopy is rightly named. She has to put her nose right on yours and get a whiff of your breath. That velvety nose is one of the best animal kisses a human can get.

This morning, Sis had me help her trim goat hooves. Luigi was needing it pretty bad. Normally I avoid him becase he STINKS to all high heaven. Trimming goat hooves is not a cake walk, but we get it done. I had to take off my gloves to get a good hold of him. 

Now here I sit. I've washed my hands about 30 times and I STILL STINK like Luigi. Pee. Yew. Times a Billion. 

I guess I better break out the tomato juice. 

Weathered Weather

Our Weather Goat (Meaning a 'fixed' male goat, NOT a goat that predicts the weather, but hey- around here, you never know) has a stenosed (narrowed) urethra, meaning either it's going to rain till we all buy boats, or the poor dude is on his way to the BBQ. He's a Boer. His name is Po.

(Normally, weathers are butchered, but this one was a pet goat that was 'rescued' and part of the humorous stuff I get to blog about. Boers are meat goats for my cityfied friends).

Long story short, when they get fixed, the peeing problem happens anyway, but since they aren't expected to be around for a long time, it doesn't concern those involved. Kinda like steers for beef. (Even big $ breeding bulls are only good for 4-6 years- where do you think that hamburger comes from?)

I know, right? I call him Po'Goat now. I feel his pain now and then at work when I can't get out of an O.R. room to pee. The human bladder was not meant to hold more than 1000mL, so when you hit 1001- you guessed it. Especially when a  couple three babies have raised hell with it as they went by.

So, Poor Po'Goat is not feeling well. Not much Dr. Wilber can do either, because there are just some things you can't fix.

Don't you worry- there are going to be replacements, because Luigi the Love goat has been busy with his two lady friends. Long about February, we should have the pitter-patter of little goat feet running around the pasture. More for me to write about, (and you to read about).

Happy Sunday, I'm going back to the homework page. sigh.

a little too thin

We have busy mornings on Monday.

I'm up early usually. I get coffee'd up, work on a few projects, mess around on the internet by checking in with Ravelry and Facebook, get logged in to OSU for school, and enjoy the 'pre-child wake-up" time.

I started a sweater I've been meaning to make for years. It's exciting that I'm making headway on projects. Christmas is coming, and we handcrafters are always thinking months in advance. Things that we make take time and planning and organization- things that handcrafters don't have a whole lot of.

I was sitting here, reading, knitting, drinking coffee. The kids wake up. I start moving around with breakfast, laundry, getting Joe dressed, etc.

Kids are ready to go to school. It is pouring rain out.
Typical morning.
I sit back down to knit some more- missing a needle. It was right here when I got up to take care of kids.

I look around me. I stand up. Nothing.
Okay, so I re-trace my steps. Pearl is not graced with stuff like 'square feet', so there is not a whole lot of places it could get lost in. NOTHING.

Kids are off to school, I'm on the verge of losing it. I secretly blame them for intentionally ruining my morning, although I know they didn't touch my knitting needles.
I decide to take a shower.
As I go to pull off my hoodie, there was a yank on my hair. Pain and realization rips through my head.
My knitting needle was in my ponytail, right were I put it.

I'm still blaming the kids.

My 'little' brother

35 years ago today, my little brother Cody Martin was born.

He had the rare privilege of entering this world at my maternal grandparent's home in Eagle Idaho, complete with Doctor (grampa) and Nurse (gramma) attending.

Dad, my sister and I were four hours away, on the ranch waiting for the news. I don't remember hoping whether I would get a brother or sister, just excited about it.

That morning, quite early, I was being up because I thought I heard the phone ring. I had some tea at the table all bleary-eyed (I was ten), and all of a sudden dad came scooting down the stairs grabbed the phone off the wall and furiously dialing the rotary plate. 1-208-939-0397.. ( I remember it- I think)
I asked, "Did Mom have the baby?", "Yes" was the reply.
"What is it?"
"A boy.'
"What did you name him?"
"Cody Martin."
"Cody?!?!" ( thinking, what kind of name is that?)

And 12 hours later, my sister and I were taking turns holding our wrinkly and pink baby brother.
(He is still wrinkly.. may not as pink though)

When he was little, we would play with him like a toy. He was our real "Baby Alive" (a doll that was popular in the 70's 'cause it would eat and poop- yeah, I know.) We would dress him up, make costumes for him, and mom would get furious over it.
One time I 'surprised' mom by using a marker on his bottom that said, "Hi Mom!" so when she changed him she would see it. Mom didn't think that was as funny as I thought...

He would get into everything. The fireplace (no fire-don't go there), the woodbox, the fridge (when mom was defrosting it), the muddy garden, the chicken house, the barn, even the milk buckets! He was constantly losing his cloth diaper. He was hard to keep nailed to one spot. Good thing mom had us around to help because she had a hard time keeping track of him.

My sister and I dressed him up in a blanket cape, a toilet brush and one of those rubber flowered swim caps that a cousin handed down and called him "Toilet king" or "Super Toad".

He had just about every pair of Underoos. (remember those?) He could wear the Superman ones and believe he was Superman. It was his imagination that inspired me to write about my Wonder Woman panties. (thanks, bro!)

He was a huge fan of Star Wars, Buck Rodger in the 21st Century, and Battlestar Galactica (the original series), and he got all kinds of cool toys. We should have kept them- they are collector's items now. It also gave him the nickname "Buck Rodgers" from Uncle Pat. I  laughed every time he said it.(my sister and I modified it to 'Buck Toad' to fit in with the toilet bowl thing).

In the summertime, our big black lab Liza would pull him around on the inner tube while he held her tail. They both had a blast.

Mom hated cutting his hair and I was a cosmetology student by the time he was nine, so I remember cutting his hair quite a bit. He would pull the "you're cutting my ear" crap with me as little boys do, and I got pissed at him and shaved his head. Dad got a little miffed. That is until ALL the boys in grade school wanted the same haircut as Cody. (Not sure if all the other moms thought that was cool but oh well..)

I had been in and out of the military during his teen years, and when I was home on leave I drove him from Drewsey (home) to where mom lived at the time (Creswell), which is pretty much a cross-state drive. We would tell funny stories, act weird and laugh about all kinds of things. We made up an alphabet that made me laugh so hard I almost wrecked the car. (we never told mom- that would have ended the fun right then!)
I can't really reproduce any of it here because it was NOT G-rated. Or even PG-13.
I might not have been the best influence on him, but I was me, and one thing Cody is, is himself.
And that is a good thing.
He gave ten years of his life to the US Army, and finished up as a Staff Seargent. He survived our father's tragic death, a bad divorce, and his dream career crashing down with the economy. I'm proud to say he turned out alright. Even with my help.

He is now living the good life in Harney county, with a wonderful fiancee`.

But he will always be my widdle baby brudder.
Happy Birthday, Cody. I love you. "You done good."

murphy wins

It is now 6:31am.


I was up at 5:38am


Why so early? 


You know when you're half asleep and you hear it start to rain and think     "Ahh... OH CRAP!! The windows are down in my car!!" and you shoot out of bed, trip, bang your bad knee (of course) stub your toe, and by that time the momentum of launching your carcass in one direction just does NOT want to stop?
Oh and don't forget to add bonking your head, slipping across wet grass in flip-flops, tripping over a hose out of said flip-flops into doggie poo. 
I do believe I need Bailey's in my cheap-ass coffee this morning. 


Please don't tell me I should go back to bed. I'm spun up like a pump-top whirlygig. I bet I knit on high speed with this kind of adrenaline rush. (I'd probably growl and snap at you too. let's not let this affect our relationship, shall we?)


It looks to me like a good day to watch the original Star Wars trilogy and eat junk food.


Have a peaceful Sunday.