Annie Knits

Baby oh Baby!

One baby sweater down, one to go.

The King Cole Aran baby jacket, pattern 2557, size 2.  It's kind of an old pattern, I think.  The pockets are so cute and the buttons (from Knitorious) are perfect.  I did have a customer tell me that while she likes the sweater just fine, she'd never give anything done in that ugly color to a baby.  To which I smiled and said thanks...  More pics here on Ravelry.

I know it's outside of the norm, but I still think it'll be darling on a 2 yr old boy digging in the rocks at a playground.  So there.

I bought more Dream in Color Classy to do a girly sweater for the next baby.  And I do have to say I'm glad none of these much awaited wonders belongs to me.  Thank goodness!  Not that I don't just love babies 'cause I do.  (Read the Harlot today?)  And I absolutely don't mind all but the most strident baby noises in most places.  I'm usually just glad I'm not the one at whom the baby is fussing.  I always think that baby fussing bothers the parents more than the rest of us, but apparently I'm mistaken on that count.   

What's Blooming in My Garden? or Look, I Got a New Camera!

I'm in love.  Cannon SD750 Elph.  Just enough for little old me.  Here you go.

This is my favorite Daffodil... or Jonquil.  Anyone know the difference off hand?

And dogwood trees.

And more daffodils.  They're a happy plant, don't you think?

And this one I think will be my new Ravatar.

Earthquake! or Dogs Have Awesome Powers Part 2

In case you live under a rock (an iffy place to be around here yesterday morning...) we had quite a shaker yesterday.  It wasn't the big one, but it was certainly disconcerting.  Since everyone else got out of the blocks on this story sooner than I did, I can do some commentary as well as tell my story.

I let the dogs out as usual Thursday night, about 10 or so, and went to bed.  Monte could not settle in.  He had me up at 12, 1, 2 and 3.  He was barking at the windows and doors, whining, and generally making a fat nuisance out of himself.  I was ready to strangle him by 3 a.m. I tell you.  I let him out each time, thinking he may have eaten something bad for him while he was outside earlier in the evening, but to no avail.  He'd sniff around and come right back and jump at the back door.  What was Sophie, the big dog, doing during all this hullabaloo?  She went out the first time, but no more.  She even quit getting out of her chair.  She was not agitated at all -- so I knew there were no bad guys involved.  After the 3 a.m. shuffle, I huffed and puffed at Monte and put in my ear plugs. 

Next thing I know, someone is shaking my bed, waking me up.  Which I did actually do.  Wake up that is.  I can't hear anything though, 'cause I've got in earplugs.  I pull them out, and  daughter is at my bedroom door asking me if I've been in her room shaking her bed.  Huh?  I told her no, I had not been shaking her bed... had she been shaking mine?  It dawned on me then that we were having an earthquake.  But it seemed to be over.  Daughter told me she was going back to sleep, but if we had another earthquake to wake her up... I went back to sleep too (instead of getting up, checking the house, getting my kids the hell out of that death trap!  Um, right... great Mom I am.)

Of course, by 6 a.m. our little quake was all over the news.  The city inspectors were going around checking the safety of roads and bridges.  They, of course, found that my shortcut to Son's school is now unsafe, chunks of concrete having fallen from the underside of the bridge, but that is really the only lasting effect for me.   Oh, and the fact that now, every time Monte whines or cringes (which is like hourly) I've got EARTHQUAKE! in the back of my mind.   It's one of the burdens of owning an Earthquake dog I guess. 

Here's Monte practicing earthquake preparedness -- he's gotten under the heaviest piece of furniture in the room.  Good dog.  Now, go find all of the centipedes in the house.

There is knitting in the house. 

It's Filey from Alice Starmore's Fishermen's Sweaters.  It's out of the Rowan Denim I bought when we were in England.  The pattern repeat is very simple -- memorized after the first few rows -- so it's certainly carry around knitting at this point.  The sticky Starmore Gauge Question?  I'm achieving  her gauge by dropping only two needles sizes down, so it's all good.  I'm doing ribbing on US2s and the body on US3s.  I assume this will be my summer knitting. 

You'll remember that I really don't love knitting with cotton.  And, you'll think, well hoo boy this is cotton.  Twine-ish almost.  And in response, I'll tell you that I carry around a little swatch of this stuff that's been machine washed and dried and boyohboy is it yummy.  All the motivation I need to knit through the pain.

The baby cable jacket is in the seaming process, and will be ready to be gifted soon.  But in another babyish development, I ran into Daughter's beloved basketball coach's newish wife and, well not to be indelicate, but she is as big as a house!  Due in a month.  And sure it's a girl.  So, I'll have to knit some of these, don't you think?

I've seen a lot of bootie patterns in my time, but these are among the cutest.   I've read through them (straight forward directions and lots of pictures)  and I have the yarn.  So.  I'll get right on this.

And for friends and family?  The renovations are all but complete.  Yay, me!

The hallway is the first picture, and yes, that wall is orange.  The rest of that space is beige.  The dining area in the second picture has walls the same color as the fireplace area in the third -- just a bad picture.  The family room adjacent to these rooms is a leaf green that doesn't photograph well today...  Area rugs, drapes, and furniture to come in a few weeks.  Again, yay me.   

Have Soapbox, Will Travel

Good Sunday morning to you all.  I got up early today to enjoy the birds singing, the morning paper, and a cup of coffee.  By myself. 

But the front page of my local paper is what got my blood really coursing.  Or my mouth cursing.  Whatever.   

So, this morning at 7:00 a.m., I drafted and sent the following letter to the assistant managing editor of the St. Louis Post Dispatch.  Stupid heads.

Dear Mr. Parker,

I am a 20 plus year subscriber to the Post Dispatch.  I read your paper every morning. 

I've noticed an alarming trend, epitomized by this morning's edition. Three of the six stories on the first three pages of the front section of the Final Metro Edition of the paper are what I'd call sensationalist.  Not necessarily in content, but certainly in tone. 

Above the fold, page one, the story is about the city's policy concerning rewarding long-time employees for not using all available sick days.  Your headline shrieks about "pricey perks" and uses the term "draining the city of millions".  You go on the enumerate several employees, most of which have worked for the city for 20 plus years, and their retirement bonuses for not using sick days.  One gal worked for 43 years and got more than $81,000.  Sounds like a lot until you do math and realize that she actually gets about $1800 for each year -- not a huge bonus but generous and delayed over time.  Frankly it's not whether or not I object to the city policy, but your article is written which such slanted, sensationalist language so as to leave me no question as to whether you all object to it.  Which shouldn't matter -- unless this is an op-ed piece.  At which point, put it on the right page.

Also on page one is a story about looming recession.  Breathlessly reporting that "more people are eating in" and "some" worry about gas and getting to jobs.  Flip to page eight and the story elaborates about a few people eating out less, ostensibly to both save money and stay home with their three year old.  I don't know about you but I've had several three year olds and I stayed at home with them too as they often aren't fit for public consumption ... or consumption in public. And there was a dropped line about certain restaurants noticing a downturn, but no facts, no numbers.  Well, except for the insert which noted what I'd term modestly rising prices on 4 different things from meat to washers.  Which I guess is my point.  There is no dearth of number crunching going on out there about the current down turn, but the Post chose, on the front page no less, to do a fluff piece about this very serious topic.

Finally, on page three, there is another fluffy piece about exhausted bloggers.  The news reporters becoming the news.  Again.  I felt the same way about your fugitive series.  The first bit was well researched, and while I thought it tended toward slamming the police when I think it's really that they don't get the resources from government to do this important job -- Homeland security my ear...  But the follow-up, self congratulatory, "look at the what happens when WE shine the light on this stuff" articles were, well, biased.  As in not "strictly the facts, ma'am."

The Sunday edition would seem to me the time to take on the serious stuff and go in depth.  Folks have all day to consume the paper and more people get the Sunday paper than the daily one.  Really... a missed opportunity I think, and the low road.  Not all of us want sensationalist news.  We want a myriad of sources and we want to weigh what we read and hear and see and make decisions for ourselves.  I've always wanted my print news to give me what radio and tv won't -- depth.  And unflinching, unbiased reporting.  The bias that is creeping into the Post's reporting is what I find disturbing.  Because it sneaks past the casual reader and masquerades as fact.

Sincerely,

Annie
St. Louis

Ok.  I didn't sign it Annie -- but the rest is exactly what I sent this guy.  And I couldn't find a link on their website to the ombudsman either ... you know, the person who's supposed to be the link between the public and the paper?  I guess they don't call it that any more.  Or they think we're too dumb to know what an ombudsman is.   And you probably think I'm nit picking or over the edge or "Really, Annie, it's just the paper, it's not about you".  But this kind of sloppiness or blurry reporting (obviously) really bugs me.

You'll remember the last time I blogged about my local paper.  And the time after that.  It's getting to be a trend.  I'd really like another choice.  'Cause I'm really a morning paper kind of girl, you know?  And I'd prefer that it be my coffee that gets me going in the morning, not the contents of the paper. 

And you know what else?  Hubster would prefer that too as he is often the victim of the first run of any of my opinions.  And bless him.  He is not a morning person, coffee or no.