I’ve had this blog going since May 2010, posting basically daily since that time. I’ve posted 515 posts, and 755 comments have been left. That’s nice!
Sadly, however, there have been 3,927 spam comments left on this site! That’s 7.63 spam comments per blog post. Akismet catches them for me, but I still have to go through and click to delete them. 3,927 clicks because of some idiots’ efforts to sell X, which I don’t want to buy. What a waste of our time!
BOO spammers!
An oldie- but a goodie!
A Hallowe’en poem for you! To be read in a very spooky voice….
I’ve been knitting socks the last couple of days. It takes me about 8 hours to knit one sock, so 16 hours for a pair. This is not exactly a cost effective way to purchase socks. Good heavy duty socks can be had for about $10. With the yarn at something like $5 a ball, I’m getting little more than 25c an hour value out of my time. However, the satisfaction is in the making. I will have another sturdy pair of warm socks, something I am always thankful of in winter, with my chronically cold feet. I will have bright, pretty socks, and I will have socks I made with my own two hands and four needles…
There’s a sense of power in knowing that you can make things yourself, be they socks. sweaters. clothes, furniture or whatever. Self-sufficiency is a reward. I like spending my time making something that lasts, as opposed to doing housework which never ends, for example.
I’ve used Paton’s Jr Jacquard yard (90% acrylic. 10% nylon) in “Big Deal Teal.” The pattern is from Knitty.com I actually stumbled upon it quite accidentally when looking up a precise definition of the word “Widdershins.” In this case, most socks are knit knee down, and these are knit toes up. I had been interested in someday finding a toe up pattern, and since this one fell into my lap, I was happy to try it. You can find the pattern here. I love such serendipity.
This is my result- one sock complete, and the toe started on the twin as you can see on the right.
Widdershins socks in Paton's Jr Jacquard
As you can see from the ball, the yarn ends in lime, which suggests to me that my mate sock is going to end up about 1/2 shorter than the first one. I will live with that! I probably should have unwound the ball and divided it equally in half so I could have exactly the same amount of yarn. I wish there was an easy way to do that, come to think of it.
What do you make that gives you small satisfaction of ‘doing it yourself?’
I spent a couple hours tonight selling used books to support a local writers’ group. It came to me again what a wealth we have of words. So many years represented in all those donated books. So many authors researching, crafting, pitching, promoting. Words being trades from one reader to another. Each to have his or her own experience and connection.
A book is enjoyed not on the basis of its literary merit, but on the connections forged in the reader. When the reader cannot relate to a book in some way, s/he can not enjoy it.
I watched all those books being chosen and the new owners venturing off with adventures, romance or knowledge bundled in their re-cycled grocery bags.
Here’s to the book sale. So much possibility for so little!
This is my 500th post since I started the blog in May 2010. 18,000 people have been by to read and comment.
Thanks for coming! I’ve been thoroughly enjoying this adventure. I hope you have, as well! I think 500 blogs is worth celebrating, so here is a celebratory cheer to enjoy from the 2011 USA National Cheer Champions- University of Cordillera Jaguars:
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I have been doing genealogy since my teens. It has gotten much, much easier in recent days, as more and more records are scanned and available on line. One upon a time you had to send to England for copies of hopeful extracts from parish records, now you can look at the records on your home computer and print them off immediately if they pertain to your ancestor.
You only get little peeks into the lives of your ancestors, but sometimes those peeks are fascinating. For example, I think parts of the life of Thomas Mosses, my great, great, grand-father would make an interesting novel.
Thomas was born in 1799, and worked in London, England as a wood engraver. Back then, wood engraving was the way to illustrate books, and there are still a lot of books in libraries (or for sale on google!) that he contributed to. On some records, he’s listed as an artist, on others he’s listed as a wood engraver or just engraver. He appears to have lived a rather ‘romantic’ life!
In 1820, when Thomas was 20 or so, he married Ann Walker, who was a couple years older than him, at the parish church in Islington. The next place he shows up in on the bapismal record of a pair of boys in 1824: Thomas Alexander and William George. They could have been twins, but more likely, Thomas just liked to get this task done efficiently. The next baptism for Thomas and Ann was for Isabella in 1826. Then things get interesting.
April 3, 1831 Ann is buried. She is about 35 years old.
In 1835 , there are two baptisms where Thomas is the father. George, son of Thomas and Ann, and Harriet son of Thomas and Elizabeth. More searching revealed Thomas, widower, married Elizabeth Rogers January 1932 at St. Anne Limehouse. It is not good for man to be alone, as the Good Book says.
It doesn’t look like he was alone much, though. According to the records, on July 7, 1831 Thomas Alexander died, but on the same day daughter Ann was born. On the baptismal certificate (June 1837, but her birthday is recorded) Ann was born to Thomas the engraver and Mary Mosses at a parish a little out of the way from where the normal family baptisms were done. Mary?! Still no sign of a marriage certificate for Thomas and Mary, but if baby Ann was born in July 1831, she was likely conceived in October 1830, and Ann the wife was still around. A little cheeky to name the illegitimate child after the wife you were cheating on, isn’t it?
His wife Elizabeth died July 1836. He married again, to Sarah, who was about 30. Presumeably that was in 1837
Thomas Sr. was buried March 1844. He was only 45 years old. He left an interesting legacy in artistic expression, and baptismal records!
Almost a year after his death, in February 1845, Thomas Sr shows up in the church records again as another pair of his kids are baptized. Another son Thomas, who was born to Thomas and Elizabeth in April 1835, and Sarah Ann, born to Thomas and Sarah in 1838.
Sarah lived a rather long life, dying in 1867. Elizabeth’s children had long lives, and son Thomas, who was my great-grandfather, offers many of his own mysteries. Ann’s children fared the worst. Isabella died in the workhouse at 24 years. I’m not sure whether George or William George lived to adulthood.
Just these little snippets suggest a very interesting stories unfolding, don’t they? A whole book could happen just in 1830-31.
In Diana Gabaldon’s Voyager, Claire remembers her love left in 18th century Scotland, and her return to his time:
He had been fixed in my memory for so long, glowing but static, like an insect frozen in amber. And then had come Roger’s brief historical sightings, like peeks through a key hold; separate pictures like punctuations, alterations, adjustments of memory, each showing the dragonfly’s wings or lowered at a different angle, like the single frames of a motion picture. Now time had begun to run again for us, and the dragonfly was in flight before me, flickering from place to place, so I saw little more yet than the glitter of its wings. (p. 338)
I am peeking through keyholes, but I would love to see these wings fly!
I was amused by this passage in Diana Gabaldon’s Dragonfly in Amber, describing life in Britain.
Nineteen year old Brianna asks, “Why on earth would people deliberately make toilet paper that feels like tinfoil?”
“Hearts of oak are our men…stainless steel are their bums. It builds national character.” Roger replies. (p. 37)
What a year I’ve had.
On this Thanksgiving Day, I’m thankful for the people this year who have offered challenges and those who helped me overcome them.
A high school class mate of mine, Stu Aspinall, was touched by the story of a soldier returning from Afghanistan. The vet suffered from Post Traumatic Stress, and without the support he needed to deal with the depression and anxiety, he took his own life. Stu wrote a song called Soldier Boy to raise awareness and funds for PTSD. Every 99c download on iTunes and CD Baby will help support the cause. Stu has teamed up with the Veterans Transition Program at the University of British Columbia which is doing amazing work to help soldiers deal with PTSD.
PTSD is not the sole purvey of soldiers. Fire fighters, police officers, social workers, and victims of crime, among others, frequently must deal with trauma over what they are called upon to experience in their professional lives. I have seen this battle unfold up close, and I support Stu’s effort. It is all too common that men are told to ‘tough it out’ or ‘suck it up.’ Trauma produces very real damage to the psyche, and the resulting mental illness must be acknowledged and cared for. It is not a personal weakness, it is as real a wound as a shrapnel filled belly. It needs to be treated appropriately.
Check out Stu’s video on YouTube, and if you like what you hear, give the video an official thumbs’ up, and go spend 99c.
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Shawn L. Bird 
that bloody Scot November 4, 2011
Tags: Diana Gabaldon, jamie fraser, outlander
I’ve been reading through the Outlander books in the last month or so. As a result, I’ve been exploring fan sites and such, pondering the romantic attraction of Jamie Fraser, since he does seem to have a lot of ladies all over the world in quite a tizzy.
I’ve written some ideas down already, but another one just occured to me. Here is a rare man- a manly man of the purest order, a man with so much testosterone that he is noticed everywhere he goes, is bitterly hated, lusted after. etc, but when he comes home to his woman, wounded from the fight and sorrowful over the hard responsibilities of having to kill or maim to keep his people safe, he talks about his feelings.
Oh yes. Women aren’t impressed so much by all that killing and cunning stuff, but they adore a man who can talk about his feelings. Jamie is astute, he knows about his own feelings, he understands Claire’s feelings, and when he doesn’t, he asks her about them, and he listens. He talks about the mushy stuff, he isn’t afraid to admit his weaknesses, he listens and he understands. Wow. Now THAT’s a man. He doesn’t sound much like an 18th century man, does he? or a 21st century one, either for that matter. Women can only dream of finding a man like that.
Particularly one wearing a kilt.
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