Now Norma Knits

Craft Activism Contest

Welcome to readers new and old who have come here from the Potter Craft free excerpt from Craft Activism! Check it out! Isn't that wonderful?

Seasoned readers here at NNK will understand why, as soon as I heard the news from Gale that the publisher had chosen our humble chapter on the Red Scarf Project as the featured promotional chapter, I knew I had to jump up out of bed and put up a new post so that new readers would not encounter the 2nd word of my last post as their first introduction to this blog. First impressions and all that. Eh?

Anyhoo, this is still September for another few hours, and September is the traditional time for me to shift into high gear with regard to the Red Scarf Project. What better timing for this new book to come out just a few days ago? And look who has an extra copy:

How's about a good old fashioned Red Scarf fundraising contest?

The rules:

1.  For every $5 donation you make to the Red Scarf Fund For Foster Youth, you get one chance at a drawing for my extra copy of Craft Activism.

2.  You are on your honor (I trust my readers) to tell me how many entries you have in the contest. 

3.  Write an email with the subject line "donation" to THIS EMAIL ADDRESS (only):  redscarffund@gmail.com, including the following information:

• Your name (first name and last initial are fine, if you prefer) 
• The amount of your donation

4.  Contest will be open until midnight ET next Friday, October 7.

5.  Winner will be announced by the following week.  

 

I've put a Paypal button below for your convenience, but if you would rather send a check to Foster Care To Success (the artist formerly known as the Orphan Foundation of America), you may do that also. The address is: 

Foster Care to Success
21351 Gentry Drive
Suite 130
Sterling, VA 20166

If you would prefer to donate through the Network for Good rather than use Paypal, click on this link.  Scroll to the bottom of that page to find the Network for Good button. 

Paradigm Shift

Well, fuck. In the last 48 hours, my life has changed quite a bit.

I spent the last two days as a special guest of the Northwestern Medical Center ICU. 

I went in a healthy, happy, vibrant person with no health issues whatsoever, and came out a bona fide cardiac patient, with a pile of drugs to take each day, and a real cardiologist and everything. How the hell did that happen?

Anyhoo. Glad I'm here to say hi. Hi!

I'm sure there will be more to this story once I feel the energy to tell it. I'm feeling FINE, but a bit shagged from the experience. I will lie low today, that's for sure. I've got more tests and appointments scheduled, but the good news is I did not have a heart attack, for sure. But despite my best efforts, I have not been able to beat my genes.

Friggin' genes.

I want to give a shout out to the truly outstanding care I received at Northwestern. This little community hospital has become a real gem. The nursing staff and the doctors were top-notch and impressive, each and every one. Even the guy who cleaned my room was sensitive, courteous, and lovely.

The echocardiogram technician was sweet, smart, and wonderfully sensitive. We had the best chat while he was doing my procedure. He said as he left, "I think we're cut from the same cloth," and I think he is right. My night nurses (both male) were kind and attentive.

Everyone spoke to me as if I were an intelligent person! <--- that right there gets them a gold star in my book; you know it.

The food was almost as good as I can get at some local restaurants, and a damn sight better than I can get in many of them! I'm not kidding. Grilled chicken that was as freshly prepared and good as I could make it. Haddock that was cooked nicely. Green vegetables that were fresh and really green (and you know how much of a vegetable snob I am!).

Don't get me wrong -- I wouldn't want to permanently move into that hotel. But I was so very pleasantly surprised.

I'm very excited about my new cardiologist. He seems perfect for me. He is "with me" about not wanting to jump onto heavy statins right away, and I can't wait to work with him. Well, I mean: I'd rather not have to work with him, but since my life has changed, I'm glad he's my cardiologist and not someone with whom I would have to butt heads or have a personality conflict or who I felt was arrogant or whatever. 

I do have some cute stories to tell about conversations with doctors, but they'll have to wait, because I don't really have the writing energy for that today.

As it turns out, I was in good company in my experience the past few days. Mine happened just exactly like hers! Except it was a Yorkie, not a cat, and there were no strippers or firemen involved. Those damn celebrities get all the fun.

Old School

The little schoolhouse where my formal education began, in Isle La Motte, Vermont, is now a bike hostel. 

There was an open house yesterday, and I gleefully seized the opportunity to visit.

I was very pleased to see that the restorations have been carefully and thoughtfully done. The blackboards are still on the walls, the woodwork is all the same, the windows are the same, the bookcases are the same. 

It's just that there are now several beds, laid out dorm-style, in the Grades 1-4 classroom.

That's right: There were two classrooms in this school. One room held Grades 1 through 4 -- one row of about five seats for each grade -- and one teacher. The other classroom was for the "big grades" -- 5 through 8 -- with its own teacher. 

I never made it to the big-grade room. I spent Grades 1 and 2 in this school, and then my family moved. 

I remember the precise location of my Grade 1 desk, and I stood in that spot yesterday. David noticed that that was the exact spot that the sun was hitting the floor through the window.

Very Biblical, whot?

Several people visited the hostel/school yesterday, but only three of them were former students at the school. And all three of those former students (plus another cousin with the same last name) share the surname Jarvis! My cousin Julie had been there about an hour before I had, and a man named Gregory Jarvis (I'm not sure of his relationship to me, but I'm sure we are related -- he went to school there from 1933 to 1941, I think) was there earlier than that. He played the guitar and sang a song or two on their videotape. 

We three members of the Jarvis tribe signed the blackboard.

The owner's friend took a recorded oral history from me and Gerald ... and maybe Julie, but I'm not sure about Julie. She may have declined to be interviewed on tape. 

What do I remember about this school? Well, as I mentioned, I remember the location of my 1st grade (but not 2nd grade) desk, with pinpoint precision. 

I remember this corner, which was right behind my desk:

I was a good reader, and every now and again the county superintendant of schools would come to my school and sit and listen to me read to him in that corner. Heh. That right there was the extent of our Gifted and Talented Program. 

The other things I remember... Well, as I was speaking, I realized there was a strong theme emerging. The only things I remember are things that were fear-induced. Damn, that adrenaline is a potent memory enhancer. 

I remember the first time I walked to school. I believe it was the first time I had ever walked anywhere on my own, and it seemed so far away and SO BIG. And I remember not being sure where the school was or where I was supposed to stop. SERIOUSLY! My mother was probably SURE that I knew where I was supposed to be going and WHY, and we had driven past this spot, which is no more than a city block from my home and smack dab in the middle between my family home and my grandparents' home, no less than 34 million times, but I really honestly didn't know what or WHERE I was supposed to be going! I remember feeling so sick and frightened inside. School? What is school? WHERE is school? 

And yet, I was the kind of child who never asked "why?" or "what?" or "how?" I just did what I was told, even if I didn't know what the what was that I was supposed to be whatting.

We didn't have kindergarten. And orientation? These were the days before orientation was conceived. If we had it, I was absent that day. Or something. Terrified doesn't even BEGIN to describe what I was feeling.

And I was completely unsocialized. I knew my siblings, who were all babies, and I knew my parents, and I knew my grandparents, and I somewhat knew my cousins, but OTHER KIDS? Other PEOPLE? SCAAAAAAAAARY. Loud! Boisterous! Unpredictable! They bump into me and hurt me. I was a little whiff of a thing, and unsteady on my feet, it seemed.

And they knew how to use the swings and play ball games and bump and jump, and I didn't. Yeah. That was me as a six-year-old.

A teacher? I had no idea what that was!

So I walked, very similar to the little kindergarten girl (but much less sophisticated than she, by 1,000 miles) who was interviewed by the New York Times last week. When asked how she manages to walk through the woods to get to school, she answered, "I just walk straight ahead."

When I got to the school grounds and saw and heard lots of kids ("lots" = 30, maximum), something inside me said, "This must be the place. But is it? I don't know. I'm not sure," and I crossed the road and entered The School Yard. I wandered into the yard and slowed down to the point that I might fall over from lack of momentum and adrenaline intoxication. A grownup (must have been the teacher, I suppose) came up to me and must have asked me my name and told me where to go. 

That is 100% of what I remember of my first day of school. 

Would you ever guess that was me? 

No, me either.

And here is another memory: For the Christmas ... I don't know what it was called ... show/pageant/presentation/play ... we were supposed to memorize Christmas poems. Mine was Twas The Night Before Christmas, or at least some part of it. Except that nobody had told me or my mother (apparently) that I was supposed to memorize it. Mind you, things might have got away from my mother. My father had just died that spring, and I was the oldest of four kids. Perhaps the task of memorizing Christmas poems was just a little bit too much for all of us to take on. Who knows. But there I was, up in front of all the parents and all the kids, FROZEN and red and purple and sweating and dying and freezing and shaking, and not having a clue what I was supposed to do. I specifically remember my cousin Tony getting up and spitting out HIS lines just before me -- PERFECTLY memorized, and at 400 words a minute. And me, dying 13,330 deaths. And the teacher really liked me and was so kind and smiling and sweet. She was trying to give me cues and feed me lines. I remember one cue in particular: She kept on pointing to the windows, making sweeping, dancing gestures towards the windows and nodding to me encouragingly.

I was wondering, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU POINTING TO THE WINDOWS FOR? 

"... tore open the shutters and threw up the sash."

WHY ARE YOU POINTING TO WINDOWS AND TALKING ABOUT SASHES? Sashes are like satin ribbons that the Miss America girls wear across their tops!

I was a little girl well before her time, and notwithstanding this was only 1965, I am quite sure that I said to myself:

WHAT.

THE.

PLUCK?!

How I made it out of that experience alive, I will never know. In fact, I might have actually fainted for all I remember. I was somewhat prone to fainting as a child. And now I think I know why.

So yeah. The school evoked some memories yesterday. 

All of them good.

 

 

 

File Under: "Weird Stuff" and "Why I Can't Trust David to Buy The Produce"

"Hey, David. Did you notice this when you bought the peaches?"

"No."

 

 

Freakayyy.

(I think it's copper, not gold, damn it.)

A Bright Idea

Terrier Tuesday -- Helping a Friend Edition

Dear Readers,

Well, I was all about to tell you about my new job, which is to remain quiet and calm and undemanding while Alpha is busy at her work at home, but now I have a different story I want to tell you. 

This is Mollie:

She weighs 9 pounds and she is sweet and loving. She was found after the hurricane and horrible flooding, in the office flowerbed of Champlain Valley Telecom in Waitsfield, Vermont. She has four broken ribs, a fractured pelvis, and a fractured vertebra near her tail.

After a lot of effort at trying to find her owner, no owner has come forward. Alpha's friend Foster has adopted her to prevent her from being put down. Foster is a broadcast engineer, and is Alpha's right-hand man at the big events she captions at UVM. He has been known to sit and hold a Diet Coke for Alpha on his knee, motionless for two and a half hours, while Alpha writes the captions next to him during graduation ceremonies, for example. He runs and fetches stuff for her and drives her around and moves her equipment all the time, not to mention representing her needs at meetings and fixing things for her and recommending equipment and where to buy it. He gets her out of all kinds of technical pickles. And he is always there when she needs him.

He has done lots of nice things for Alpha and me. One time when Alpha had to work, and David was bringing Abigail and me to the airport, Alpha had forgotten to give Abigail the papers I needed in order to fly on a plane. Foster drove the pieces of paper across town so that I could fly to New York with Abigail and Alpha could keep on working! One time when Alpha and David were so stressed out during that crazy campaign thing they were doing a while back, Foster and his wife Ruthie took me and Alpha out for dinner and cocktails on their boat, just to relieve our stress.

They are good people.

Foster and Ruthie have a long-haired Dachshund named Shadow, whom they adore:

And another big old Golden Retriever named Dunder:

who they say is old and arthritic. They have to pick up his hind end to get him moving some days, they told us last night. So you can see they are kind of soft hearts for dogs. 

The wonderful vets that Foster took Mollie to were extremely generous. The first one waived all his fees. The second one only charged for the meds and food. The stories of generosity just keep on coming out of Vermont following this natural disaster!

Now, though, Foster and Ruthie are facing expensive orthopedic surgery for Mollie, as well as spaying and shots. It will be at least $2,000. 

I wonder if you will consider helping them with the costs. Even a little bit will help these lovely people get this sweet little dog back to health. The vets are encouraged because of the following:  Mollie eats and drinks well. Under pain medication, she wags her tail like crazy, and she can move enough to get outside to take care of her outdoor, ahem, needs. So they feel good about her spinal cord being OK. They have to wait till she gets stronger before she can undergo the heavy surgery that is required to rebuild one of her joints. 

Here is a message from Foster:

On behalf of Mollie we would like to thank the girls at Champlain Valley Telecom for finding her, the dog warden Marie Leotta for all her help. Dr Hadden for her care at Valley Animal Hospital and the waiving of his fees. Dr. English at River Cove for seeing her and only charging me for her meds. There will be more info posted today.

If anyone would like to help me with her expenses please send me a private message. Thank you to all who have helped!!!!!

Foster's Paypal email address is w1cgt@yahoo.com. Any and all help will be greatly appreciated by this nice family and by Mollie and by Alpha and me. Thank you for reading. [P.S. The best way is to copy and paste that email address into your Paypal account. I think where some people are running into a little trouble is the second item in the email address is the numeral 1, not the letter L.  If that still doesn't work for you, Alpha will send you Foster's snail mail address if you'd like to send a check. Thank you again!]

Love and Yorkieful kisses,

 

Mr. Jefferies 

Just Another Story About Vermont's Awesomeness

"I walked through the woods and over a mountain to get to school."

This is in 2011, not 1911. 

NBD.

Dear Blog

I am sorry you are so neglected these days. Mama is just so B-U-S-Y and just a little bit preoccupied with work, and when not working, with trying to maintain the health of her body and mind. 

I did a fun little exercise last week. I suddenly noticed the word count on one of my days' worth of CART: 34,030. The next day, 39,471 (<---- this was the record for the week). The total number of words CARTed for the week: 145,801.

That is one bucketful o' words. And they were all (well, not ALL) medical and many, many multi-syllabic. So, you see what I'm talkin' about?

Anyhoo, so work and gym and yoga and eat and shower and sleep and pee and poop are pretty much all I have energy for. We are down to single-syllable basic physiological functions here, people!

I did, however, manage to clean a closet and send a laundry basket full of clothes and other items to a church bazaar collection this weekend. 

I'd like to thank the academy, my new A-W-E-S-O-M-E chair, and my new Bose headset for the fact that I am even still feeling a little bit of energy and a lot of happiness, only a little bit of pain really, and even a teeny bit awake.

I'd also like to thank Mr. Jefferies for being a total champ about letting me work at home and knowing that he has to be quiet and so SWEET when I'm busy. Maybe he'll even blog on Tuesday!

Love,

Norma

 

I'm Not Saying These Are Related. But I Think A Venn Diagram Could Definitely Be Drawn Here.

 Bachmannology:

 Jesus, Moses and St. Peter Walk Into A Republican Debate.....

-----------------------------------------

And The Truth About Scientology:

Will Blog For Food (And Cleaning Supplies and Pet Supplies and Clothing and... and...and.)

We aren't anywhere near getting things cleaned up and back to normal here in Vermont, and it just seems like we are suffering one insult after another. There have been more flash floods, a rescue of VTrans workers repairing a bridge, and now there is more rain in the forecast and flash flooding predicted for Sunday night. We can take a lot up here in Vermont, but man. The scope and magnitude of this is beyond my comprehension. I barely have the words or energy to describe my feelings, and I am one of the ones who is dry and comfortable and have food in my pantry and electricity, telephone, internet, clean vegetables in my garden, and clean water in my home.

Here are some words I found in various Facebook pages and around the web:

• Cavendish Town Hall are in need of feminine products, toiletries,pet food and towels(for the National Guard to take showers) Please put the word out if possible. Anyone can drop off right at the town hall at 37 High St Cavendish or call them at 802-226-7291 or if anyone is in Springfield I am taking donations at my home and I have volunteers ready to come pick up from me. I can be reached at 802-885-1171 Thanks! June Sumner
• From the Governor's Facebook Page:  CALL 1-800-VERMONT TO VOLUNTEER OR DONATE TO FLOOD RELIEF!!
  
• Black River Good Neighbor Services:  We can use Diapers, Wipes, Tuna, Canned Meats, Rice Mixes, Dry Milk, Jelly, Peanut Butter, Pasta, Canned Fruit, Baked Beans, Toilet Paper, Juice, and Cereal. A $20.00 cash donation will buy four times the amount of food from the Vermont Food bank than at your local supermarket. Donate Now to help you flooded neighbors using PayPal.com Our email is brgnsdonation@tds.net . Or  you may send your donation to: BRGNS, 37B Main Street, Ludlow VT 05149
  

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If you have any spare change, will you consider donating to one of the many causes that have sprung up? Here are just a few more (I love the synergy here) ideas that might be of interest to my readers:

I Am Vermont Strong: (From their Facebook posting just a few minutes ago:  Well, the tshirts we brought with us to The Downtown Rutland's Farmer's Market were gone in less than 30 minutes! We are still here taking orders and makin' friends - online sales are still jumpin' too! It may be a Holiday weekend but VERMONT STRONG does not rest!- Eric & Lyz)  

Vermont Foodbank

Kaleidoscope Yarns is donating 25% of all online and in-store sales through September 7th to the Vermont Foodbank. BUY YARN for a GOOD CAUSE.  And maybe make a hat to donate to:

Hats for Hunger.  (From their Facebook posting: The news in Vermont keeps getting worse and worse. If you would like to help, please buy a hat and we will donate all proceeds to the Vermont Foodbank. Better yet, sponsor a hat. We'll give the money to the VT foodbank AND someone who lost everything will get a hat. Please put Irene in the note section of your order. Thank you for helping Vermont one hat at a time.)

Gorgeous Patterns from Savory Knitting 9/1/11 through 9/5/11 100% proceeds from the sales of her Ravelry patterns will be donated to Vermont NOFA’s Farmer Emergency Fund.

And from my friend India of WARM HATS, WARM HEARTS:

 

On August 28, Hurricane Irene visited Vermont. Although my town was spared the worst, many towns throughout the state suffered devastating flooding. My husband’s brother, sister, and mother narrowly escaped the rising waters of the Mad River, which inundated their home and their village, soaking everything in its path, taking out roads and bridges, and leaving behind inches of muck and piles of debris.

My family was lucky. Many of their things, including their clothing, are salvageable. But many others are not so fortunate. Though it is still quite warm here, we all know that soon the weather will turn much colder, and people will reach for that favorite sweater or scarf, only to remember that it’s gone.

I’m collecting donations of handknit hats, scarves, mittens, sweaters, socks, blankets, baby items, and knitted toys, items for anyone from babies through adults, to distribute to flood survivors in Vermont and upstate New York. If you would like to ply your needles for people in need, please contact me, India Tresselt, at warmhearts2@gmail.com. Thank you!