Well THAT was interesting

Ahh, summer in Florida. The heat. The humidity. The giant bugs. The freak thunderstorms out of nowhere.

I work in a call center for a large company. Think corporate campus, multiple multi-story buildings type place. Large buildings, full glass sides - you get the picture.

A little after 5 this afternoon the safety commitee comes dashing through telling everyone "Get OFF the phones, get INTO the stairwell there IS a tornado!" As I rounded the corner headed to the stairwell, you could SEE the tornado! Several people stopped to get pictures - I'm not that brave. After a quick glance, I headed straight for the stairwell.

Yes, I did gather the important things before I left my desk. Purse, car keys and knitting. Welcome to summer. I will be spending the rest of the weekend either cowering at home, or cowering in the safety of the LYS with my friends, if anyone needs me.

Fifteen of Ferret Fame

If you're on Ravelry you may be familiar with the "This Week in Ravelry" feature. One of the semi-regular columns is "Ask Auntie BubboPants", an advice column that occasionally features a guest column for pets, written by Auntie BubboPants dog, Chester.

Some time back, there was a notice that Chester would again be doing a guest column. I let the Insane Weasel Posse send a question, and in the most recent (OK, it was the June 11th, but I just realized it was up) column, Chester answered them!

For those not on Ravelry, who would still like some ferret-y amusement, I'll include just their letter and the reply.

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Dear Chester,

Hi, we’re ferrets. We’ve never seen a question from ferrets before, but we’re hoping you can help anyway, ‘cause you know stuff! And a bunch of the stuff you know, is stuff we know, and stuff we like too!

Anyway, our human Mom takes us to the park sometimes. We really like the park! We dig in the leaves, and visit with the little humans and the big humans, and sniff stuff, and dig stuff, and have lots of fun. Sometimes, we find these tunnel things - right under the ground! And kind of sticky uppy, above the ground too! Mom says they’re made by something called ‘moles’. We dig and dig when we find these tunnels, and we stick our heads down in them, but we never ever ever see ‘moles’.

Is there really such a thing as ‘moles’? Or is this one of those tricks humans think are funny, like squeak your squeaky, then hide it so you freak out and can’t find it?

Just wondering -
The Insane Weasel Posse (Frick, Frack, Finn and Elf)

YOU ARE FERRETS!!! OH MY GOD!!! the lady’s sister used to have the things called ferrets and the lady tells the very funny story about the ferrets and they jump sideways and go chkchkchkchk and sometimes I see the ferrets in the place that is the dogstore and they play tumble games and I want to play with them!

Moles. OH YES!!! there is the thing that is the mole. I see them sometimes at the dog park. and one time there was a very little dog that was not a little it was just smallish and the dog was doing the thing that was being very mean to a mole and the mole made lotsof squeaks and the lady got SO MAD!!! and we had to do the thing that was go to the other side of the park but that is good because that is the place where the toads are!! Do you know toads? sometimes the toads are the kind that are insideout and you can roll in them and they smell SO GOOD!!!!!

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(For those wondering about the toad thing, that's a reference to a very early Chester column featuring a question from a dog about why their humans would bathe them every time they found something good to roll in. Chester apparently likes to roll in roadtoads.)

Hubris

hu·bris (hyōō'brĭs)
n. Overbearing pride or presumption; arrogance: "There is no safety in unlimited technological hubris" (McGeorge Bundy).

[Greek, excessive pride, wanton violence; see ud- in Indo-European roots.]
hu·bris'tic (-brĭs'tĭk) adj., hu·bris'tic·al·ly adv.

The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition
Copyright © 2009 by Houghton Mifflin Company.
Published by Houghton Mifflin Company. All rights reserved.

hubris

1884, from Gk. hybris "wanton violence, insolence, outrage," originally "presumption toward the gods," of unknown origin.
Online Etymology Dictionary, © 2001 Douglas Harper

hubris

The act of angering the Gods of Knitting by somewhat bragging about a good round of finish-itis.

So far, this has earned me a little over a weeks worth of frogging, tinking and screaming.

The Broadripple socks? Yeah - should've checked gauge when I decided to use a different yarn. Frogged back from just past the heel turn and restarted with an extra 8 stitches added.

The Queen Anne's Lace shawl? Apparently 5 rows of self corrected mistakes, resulting in careful tinking (it's already been to the frog pond once), counting, re-counting, carrying to a friend to have her count and verify that yes, the row should indeed end in a multiple of 9.

I've been afraid to even touch paint or fabric. That's a LOT harder to correct than picking out knit stitches.

Anyone have any suggestions? Do I need to sacrifice stash? Attend remdedial kindergarden for counting week? Seriously. Help!!!

Block Party!

You may remember a couple of months ago I was making blocks for a quilt swap from the Dear Jane list. Well, the payoff showed up this week!

Blocks from 79 different people and 6 different countries.

I have US, Canada, England, Australia, Belgium and The Netherlands.

A block from "The Queen of the Blanket Circus" herself, Brenda Papadakis (yes, the one who wrote the Dear Jane book!)

There are blocks with rhinestones, blocks with state stamps, personal references, one that was completely hand stitched, one with a tiny button stitched on, and even one talented and aspiring 11 year old quilter!

There are still a few people I will be emailing who did not participate in the swap, but who have indicated they would be willing to swap one-on-one for a few blocks, so the numbers may go up a little bit.

I find it really interesting how history has come full circle in a way. Signature blocks were popular in the 1800's as people moved westward. Friends and family who knew they may never get to see their loved ones again, and would have only limited postal contact would put together quilts with their names and sentiments written or embroidered on as a way to remember those left behind. Now, in the digital age, the same method is being used to bind those with a common interest who may have never met, and who may never get to meet. I wonder what those first makers of siggie quilts would say if they could see what goes on now?