Now Norma Knits

252. School Uniform

I think I've become the denim skirt queen.  I'm now up to five, with a new winning addition from Travelsmith. I just love this thing. It does my '70s girl heart such good.

I've settled into a nice, comfortable wardrobe routine for school, and I just love it. (Hey, does this mean it's, "What to Wear Wednesday," instead of WTF Wednesday?) Much of my former business attire was too formal for the classroom. There are some pieces I still wear, but most of it has been relegated to the status of "things I need to cull out and send to the Salvation Army."  I wore pants to class for a while, but I have finally figured out that skirts are what suit me best for looks, comfort, and practicality, and they're casual but professional enough.  Having a good cache of washable skirts from which to choose, and several simple, washable tops, all in colors that mix and match, my sandals for summer and my paddock-style boots for fall, winter, and much of spring -- it all makes getting dressed easy and leaves me comfortable in the knowledge that no matter what combination I put together, I will look polished enough that if I get called in for an unexpected meeting with the bigwigs or (as happens) there is a last-minute evening event to cover, I will still be good to go.

I've mentioned before how much I love my Travelsmith clothing.  There have been some duds that I have had to send back, and ones I shouldn't have kept and have never worn.  They, too, will be sent to the Salvation Army.  But the winners are true winners.

My favorites are these skirts that I've mentioned before (I have two each of the beige and black, and wish they came in more colors), and the new denim one above. 

When Abigail was home a couple weekends ago, I of course took her shopping at her very favorite place -- Plato's Closet, a resale shop with a location in Williston.  (It's a franchise and there are several shops in the country, I think.)  While I was there, I got three perfect fall/winter cotton v-neck tops for myself, too. I paid $8 each for slightly used Eddie Bauer tops (though they look new).  When it gets really cold, I bring out the wool sweaters and scarves.  Boy, do I not miss the days of pantyhose, pumps, and dry-clean everything.

238. U is for Utah Economic Stimulus Package

Yes, well.  U is really for Utah, but I've gone on and on about it as if I'll never get over it, and really I won't, I loved it so much. I mentioned to a couple people that I could very easily move there.  One of them would be losing her main CART provider if I moved.  She yelped, "NO, YOU CAN'T!"

Nice to be wanted. 

I hope you will forgive me about the Utah lovefest lately. But the package of things Margene mailed to me (because I could not fit them in my suitcase, which was just a carry-on) arrived.  I'm calling it the rest of my Utah Economic Stimulus Package. 

Elsebeth Lavold Book No. 8, enough Silky Wool to do the cover sweater (I hope!) and a couple of Addi-Turbo needles.  Silly me, I thought I'd get to start the sweater while in Utah, but I spent my knitting time on the lovely Chinese red wrap.  There is also an Addi lace needle in the mix, the one I'm using to knit the Everyday Wrap, and boy is that a lifesaver.

Hm.  I just noticed how well the sweater will go with the new bag....

Better get knittin'! I wonder when exactly I will have time. 

You will be glad to know I did not buy this "Norma is Playing Julia Roberts Playing Tess Playing Julia Roberts in Ocean's Eleven" hat, though all my crazy compatriots totally thought I should. For once I did not cave in to peer pressure.  I really did sort of like the way it looked, it would really be nice to have a hat that would protect my delicate aging skin and eyes, and it would be totally da bomb for my next time I go to the Royal Ascot, but since that will likely be, uh, never....I saved the dough and left the hat for someone else.  Besides, I had just bought the dinosaur bone necklace, and that was quite enough for one day.  Well, that and the black skirt.  Enough.  See?  I know when to stop.  I do. 

I also totally know how to have fun.

234. More Random Wonderfuls I Took Home From Utah

1.  Bubble and Bee Organic Pit Putty -- from Miriam. She let me try hers, and I was SOLD.  Smells so wonderful (clove, mmmm), and really WORKS. I don't use antiperspirants, both for health concerns and the fact that they don't freakin' work on me anyway. For more than a decade, I have successfully used just a dusting of baking soda, but lately it hasn't been working and has been leaving horrible white rings on my clothing. Either they've changed the formulation of baking soda in some way, or my body chemistry has changed. It's probably the latter - I'm guessing it's the hormones that's the culprit. Anyway, I ordered some Pit Putty as soon as I got home. It's already been shipped. 

2.  ChaCha -- from that Alarming Female.  She told me about it (she has an iPhone, dontchaknow!), and what a COOL TOOL. Just about the coolest thing EVER, is all.  Just for kicks, on Wednesday night I text messaged ChaCha to ask what the weather was going to be like in Burlington the next day. A few minutes later, they answered me, and that helped me to choose my wardrobe for the next day. Too cool for school, I tell ya.

3.  Concord Grape Pie -- from Cheryl.  She brought some to the stitch-n-bitch Tuesday night. I've never had it before, and whoa, mama! is that to die for! I didn't actually take any home, except what was in my tummy, but I have the memory etched into my tastebuds. 

4.  Chinese Red ShiBui Silk Cloud -- from Margene, with an adorable Coco Knits pattern. We all tried on the shop model of this sweet shoulder wrap while at Blazing Needles, and everyone fell in love with it. Sweet simplicity and elegance personified. I've already started knitting it, and I'm just loving it.

5.  Yazi ginger vodka. Margene served me this each day I was there. I didn't carry any across state lines or on the plane, but now I kind of wish I did.  I went to my liquor store and was told that it's "delisted" in Vermont, whatever that means.  It's absolutely heady stuff, and stunningly delicious to sip, freezer-cold, or a tablespoon on a little bit of ice cream with blackberries (as Margene served it), or I can imagine a hundred different elegant food and dessert possibilities for it. Anyway, the clerk at the liquor store told me it's probably available in New Hampshire. Well, I just happen to have a regular pee stop in NH when I make the trip to and from Boston that has a liquor store on site.  I guess I'll have to make one of those trips soon so I can get my ginger booze fix.

6.  A Namaste Laguna bag.  These are fabulous:  They have a soft leathery feel, they're lightweight, have lots of pockets, and the price is RIGHT.  I've been looking for a replacement for my 15-year-old shoulder bag, and have been looking at things that cost two or three times what the Namaste bag cost, and they were not nearly as versatile.  It's a winner!  Now if I can just refrain from putting everything but the kitchen sink in it so I can carry this sucker without throwing my shoulder out...

Question:  Was Kim photographing my bag or my bottom? 

My bag is olive green, as you can see. Margene has had one for a long time in pink, Kim got one in saddle brown, and Miriam got a dark teal one. Copycats much?  Good thing we're spread out all over the country!

There's more, but it's in the mail, because it wouldn't all fit in my little suitcase for the trip home.  I'll show you when it gets here.  Hint:  Elsebeth Lavold.

Some people wanted the link to the jewelry shop where I got the dinosaur bone pendant.  It is Park City Jewelers, and they do have a website, but the website is really not very representative of the pieces they have, and also it seems to me that the prices on the website are higher than they were in the shop.  Try to get to Park City!  There are two stores on the same street (that's the long story I alluded to).  One is all chichi and glittery and cutesy and high-falutin', and it totally scared me away.  The other is more rustic and inviting to a person like me -- old wood trim, and in a basement. It's got all the same stuff with only a few exceptions, but laid out differently in a completely different atmosphere.  I was fooled at first, and I'm not easy to fool.   (You should hear Margene telling the story of my reactions to the two stores, heh-heh-heh.) They've got the marketing right down to a T, I'd say -- they can get the person who wants the fancy, glittering stuff in the store at one end of the street -- or get the person who wants more earthy things in the other one.

And the jewelry I got at Sundance is from Liza Shtromberg.

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Over the days I was in Utah with my lovely friends, the group was a little bit amorphous, but we usually traveled in a pack of five or six together. One thing remained constant:  Wherever we went (literally 100% of the time), the proprietors of whatever establishment we were enjoying would ask, "Where are you all from?"  We'd say we were a conglomeration of locals, with one Vermonter and one Idahoan.  They'd wistfully say, "You are having SUCH FUN!" (As if that's an unusual thing or something!)  We'd say we met on the internet and we'd get The Look -- the disbelieving look about us meeting on the internet, because we were clearly all such good and easy and comfortable friends.  But people wanted to take our photographs in several places; one woman turned out to be someone that Margene knew from 17 years previous and she said longingly, "I want to go WITH you," when we left her store.  I'm telling you, it was Heaven.  And all thanks to blogging and the internet.  *sniff*

With just a few more, this could be the knitbloggers' version of The Last Supper -- Red Iguana style.  Hee. 

Now I've hit the ground running, and opening weekend and the fall school schedule already has me fully scheduled and working hard. Thus ends my Summer of Ladies Who Lunch on a very high note, and I'm so thankful for my summer trips.  Thank you to all the Utah ladies, to Kim, to Sandy, to Ruby and Judy and Jessie and Ann. I hope I'm not forgetting anyone. Thank you to you all.  You've given me such gifts.

233. Q is for Quest

I'm not so much the girl who goes for the bling, but I do love me some earthy artisan jewelry, especially if it has a special local meaning. This partially explains why I'm so fond of my Iberville beach shale pieces (necklace and earrings). I'm almost always wearing them, and have taken to wearing lots of black v-neck tops to best show off the necklace. That piece of jewelry holds my body warmth and seems to be alive in its own right. It comes from the land of my ancestors and it makes me feel strongly connected to it. I get compliments on it often, even from strangers. I wear it all the time, and look, here's a little photo of me taken at Silver Lake to prove it:

When I arrived in Utah, I told Margene that while there I would like to buy a special piece of local artisan jewelry. I was thinking of a necklace or earrings. I can't wear rings or bracelets because of my work and the speed with which my hands have to move and the positions they need to get in for accuracy of the steno. The metal makes my hands hurt somehow and slows me down. It seems like it confines the little muscles and ligaments in my fingers and wrists.

Long story short (and there IS a long story, but Margene can tell it better), I found THE piece in Park City. 

I bought some bling.

It is a piece of petrified Utah dinosaur bone with a citrine stone, set in sterling silver, and on a sterling choker. Here it is reclining on my unfinished Central Park (non)Hoodie of Peace Fleece in the color Sheplova Mushroom.

I'll pause here for a few seconds to allow your heart rate to resume to normal.

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And then, as if that wasn't enough, the next day we went to Sundance and somehow or other some more pieces came home with me:

Really, the dinosaur bone is in a league of its own, but these pieces by a California artist are pretty frickin' spectacular, too. Orange agate, also known as carnelian, with rustic silver disks. Here's a close-up of the disk:

There's a long story here, too:  I was only going to get the earrings until Margene took things in her own hands, practically crawled over (she didn't really have to "crawl" over, since she's six feet tall -- just a little stretch was all that was necessary) the jeweler's desk, reached inside, took the necklace out, and put it on my neck. Just like that. Then all the other women started oohing and ahhing and telling me I'd regret it if I didn't get it, and oh, how perfect it was with my hair and my skin, and all this other dreck wonderful stuff.  For goddess's sake, how is anyone supposed to resist these sorts of criminals pushy bitches people?  The very moment it was on my neck, I knew I owned it. Quest fulfilled.

Now that I'm home, I'm also getting some strong vibes that it is time to pick up the Peace Fleece Central Park (non)Hoodie and finish that sucker.  I kinda think the jewelry is saying it. Ya think?

True Story: All this purchasing activity is so unusual for me that it prompted the credit card company's fraud division to call, just to make sure someone hadn't stolen the card and started using it to buy up all the jewelry in Utah.

Here I am, modeling the new black travel skirt I got on sale in Park City, and sticking my feet in the ice-cold stream at Sundance after all that spending. It was soooo therapeutic. The only symptom of the high altitude that I suffered was a slight swelling of my feet at the ends of the days.  After this icy bath, they felt fanTAStic!

204. It's A Red-Lettuce Day*

Harvest Photo of the Day

Lettuce 'Red Velvet' and 'Red Romaine'

These were planted on the day we started the Garden-Along. I picked them the day before yesterday.  They made for two extra-large, delicious, and pretty dinner salads.

Oh, P.S. I had my first ripe tomato the other day. I rushed the picking of it a wee bit -- it wasn't quite fully ripe -- but the flavor!  Oh, the flavor!  If that preview is any indication, my tomatoes are going to be extra-delicious this year. It was an Early Girl, and there is another that is flirting with becoming ripe.  Soon there will be a flood of ripe red orbs.

*title for Ryan

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P.P.S.  Being ever resourceful, and remembering a trick that Silvia taught me, I found a number on one of the tags of my workout top, and lo and behold, I found it available at a few places online.  Here it is in black.  And here it is in desert rose (I ordered the last M one left and it's already winging its way to me) and a lighter coral color.  I saw it somewhere else in the dreaded pastels and also a white, a bright blue and a purple. I highly recommend this design. The photos don't really do it justice, but it is a perfect marriage of looks, fit, and function. Be sure to check out the back view.

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P.P.P.S. Plans have been made and tickets have been bought.  Yes, my pretties, I will be taking some local, medium-range, and not-so-local mini-vacations in the next few weeks.  I can hardly stand the excitement! Sadly, I can't go everywhere and see everyone I'd like to, but this is not about the negative -- only about the positive. Details to follow, of course.

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172. Oops, I Did It Again

Harvest Photo of the Day, of a different kind.

I have another pair almost like this one.   

I bought the black, and loved it so much I went back and got the bronze.  Love.  These are Clarks!  Who says Clarks only makes granny shoes? These are sweet. I'll be wearing these to death all summer, I predict.

Cute side story:  I went for a mammo the other day and wore the bronze pair.  The mammo technician (is that what they're called?) noticed them immediately and said she adored them.  (They were especially fetching under my hospital gown, I am sure!) She said she has the black ones, but the bronze ones are awesome.  I told her my story, and that I had got them at 50% off at Penney's.  How much you wanna bet she went over after work and has two pairs to match my two pairs?

I'm very impressed with JCPenney lately.  What gives? They've really got their shit together, it seems.

And you know what else?  This is my very-first-ever professional pedicure.  And what you don't see is my hands, which are sporting their third-ever-in-my-lifetime (I think) professional manicure.  It's not too exciting, because my nails are short and the poor girl did the best she could with my cuticles that have been ravaged by poor care and constant battering in the garden.  And, when I was paying her, I grabbed my credit card and ruined the polish on the index finger of my right hand.  I noticed it when I got out to my car.  I know I could have gone in right then and there and had her fix it, but honestly, I'm a menace to a manicure and never should have bothered with it in the first place.  Later after I got home from yoga class, I noticed that my middle finger on the right hand had lost some of its polish, too. I don't even know how I did that. 

Still, it was a nice little treat to myself for getting ready for the busy-busy summer school schedule on which I am about to embark. (Graduate-level Humanities. Kierkegaard, Sartre, Merleau-Ponty, Antonioni, Bergman.... Piece of cake. Ha.) What the hell -- why not sniff some nail polish fumes, be sort of pampered for half an hour, spend the money, and immediately ruin it?  Life is short. 

162. Blackberries, Black Berries, and BlackBerrys

ZOWIE!  There is a lot of interest in the garden-along.  I'm thrilled.  Someone said we need a button.  Anyone up for designing one? 

I was at work until very late last night.  Michael Pollan's talk was great!  Standing room only, with a full overflow facility as well. He says Vermont is a leader and role model in the sustainable agriculture movement, and the "rest of the country has its eyes on us."  Of course we already knew that. *wink* 

I had hoped to have him sign my books and make him pose for a picture for the blog.  He was wearing a great t-shirt that said "Vote with your fork." I'm sure he did not even notice the captioner slaving away in the corner in that un-air-conditioned facility.  He noticed the sign language interpreter because at one point the mic cut out and he asked, "Can you hear me?" and got a kick out of the sign language person asking the deaf people, in ASL, "Can you hear me?"  That was kind of excellent.  I love the ASL people, particularly this one who worked this event.  She also worked the Ben Stein event, and she is particularly talented with her body language.   

I had a little fantasy that I would explain that I have a little blog and many of my readers are big fans of his, but the line was just too long and it was too hot in there and I was tooooo exhausted after a very long day, part of which was being in a bit of limbo about whether the event was going to take place or not, because of a tornado watch.  I even intended to bring him a gift of beet greens or something from my garden, but in the end I'm glad I didn't attempt that.  They would have been a wilted mess by the time they got to him, and he was most surely in a hotel room where they would have been unusable anyway.  So it was a nice idea, but kind of impractical. 

Anyway, I got home to all those great emails.  I answered some of the ones that had specific questions with regard to the homework I assigned, and I'll try to address some of those in future posts.  I'm excited that you're excited!  Today I'm going to look in my basement for planting containers -- I feel certain there must be something down there that will be suitable. If not, I'll go out and pick up something reasonably priced, and get some lovely compost-based potting soil.

Meanwhile, let's talk about blackberries, black raspberries, and BlackBerrys.

Yes, Veronica, there is a difference.

Wikipedia has this to say about black raspberries, the kind that I have in my yard: (my photo)

Rubus occidentalis is a species of Rubus native to eastern North America. The common name Black Raspberry is shared with the closely related western American species Rubus leucodermis. Other names occasionally used include wild black raspberry, black caps, black cap raspberry, and thimbleberry.^[1][2]

Rubus occidentalis is a deciduous shrub growing to 2–3 m tall, with thorny shoots. The leaves are pinnate, with five leaflets on leaves strong-growing stems in their first year, and three leaflets on leaves on flowering branchlets. The flowers are distinct in having long, slender sepals 6–8 mm long, more than twice as long as the petals. The round-shaped fruit is a 12–15 mm diameter aggregation of drupelets; it is edible, and has a high content of anthocyanins and ellagic acid.^[3][4]

Black raspberries are high in anthocyanins. This has led to them being very useful as natural dyes and, since anthocyanins are powerful antioxidants, to a great deal of interest in them for their potential nutraceutical value. Extensive work has been ongoing at Ohio State University to evaluate their benefit for cancer treatment in mammalian test systems,^[5] and the first clinical trials on patients with esophageal cancer.^[6]

The black raspberry is also closely related to the red raspberries Rubus idaeus and Rubus strigosus, sharing the distinctively white underside of the leaves and fruit that readily detaches from the carpel, but differing in the ripe fruit being black, and in the stems being more thorny. The black fruit makes them look like Blackberries, though this is only superficial, with the taste being unique and not like either the red raspberry or the blackberry. In much of the Mid-Atlantic United States, black raspberries are simply called Blackberries, even though they are not.

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And then there is the accessory every (very) independent CART and captioning professional needs, which is not your garden-variety blackberry, but of a different genus altogether:

I'm still in the steep learning-curve stage with the BB.  Thank goodness for an afternoon chat with Rachel H., my Toronto Connection. That girl has got it goin' on with the BlackBerry experience. Initially I had my Norma Knits gmail account set to come in automatically, but I couldn't handle all the constant stimulation. Who'd-a thunk I'd actually get tired of being in constant contact with the email?  But it did happen. Really! And quickly, too.  Apparently I am at least mildly sane after all. Now it's just the business email account that comes automatically, which is the real purpose of this phone upgrade, anyway.  I'll have to "wait" for the blog email 'til I can get to it with my laptop.  Oh, the sacrifices we make in order to make a living and maintain just a wee bit of sanity.  Heh.

Is black not your color?  Then how about blue?


Look at those blueberries I've got coming!

P.S.  Life stages seem to be going quite well at the moment for the Norma.

150. Raise Your Hand...

...if you shop like I do.

Find something that fits great, looks great, at a great price; buy one in every color. 

Work-worthy sleeveless tops from JCPenney. They were on sale for a certain price, but they rang up at an even more reduced price.  Plus, I used my Penney's card for an additional 15% off that day.  Soon they were going to be paying me to take them off their hands.  I exaggerate:  I did not buy them in every color -- only three of six available colors.  But that's only because they didn't have the other colors in my size, and, well, one of the colors was magenta, which really looks quite hideous on me and, when I see it in clothes, makes me want to vomit. I'm an equal-opportunity color-lover except when it comes to magenta and neons. (Although I can tolerate them in small doses -- very small doses -- such as in prints. And magenta flowers?  I'm all about it.)

May I also take this opportunity to mention, in a separate but related topic, that it's nice getting older.  When I was young, I was far too self-conscious of my arms to go sleeveless.  And I am a sweater.  No, I am not a cardigan or a pullover -- I am a person who SWEATS.  So going sleeveless, especially in these days when we are all trying, or should be trying, to cut back on air conditioning, is a great option.  And not going sleeveless, when you are indeed a sweater, and inevitably end up with large sweat rings on your garment under your arms, regardless if the temperature is 40 below or 100 above, is not a good look.  It's a good thing that as I've gotten older, I don't care that my arms are as big as a man's, or that I have some extra fat and cellulite, or that I'm pale.  Screw it.  I don't have the perfect body, but I'm fit enough, and healthy. 

Several months ago, I was working out at the gym with Abigail.  I of course was sweating, A LOT, as I do.  And Abigail was bothered by the fact that I had a sweat mark somewhere near one of my nipples.  She said, "That's an unfortunate location for sweat to show," and I'm quite sure she wanted a) me to cover it up, and b) to not let anyone know that she was with me. God, I can remember being like that.  I'm sooooooo glad that phase is over.  What a trivial, trivial thing to worry about.

It's so freeing. Another good reason for being over 45. 

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One hundred and fifty posts this year. Two hundred eleven nonstop since November 1, 2007.  I guess I'm on a roll, and I like it.

133. Summer of My Discontent?

I do not remember signing up for this. 

David is going under the knife to have a shoulder replacement this weekend.  Never mind that it's the worst POSSIBLE weekend for me workwise (I said "workwise" just to bug one of my friends who has a pet peeve about "-wise" endings). 

I keep being reminded by various people of how much fun (not) it's going to be for me for several weeks. David has really been doing everything he can to help make it easier for me -- He got himself some slip-on shoes, he got some more elastic-waist pants, we bought him a La-Z-Boy recliner for sleeping for the first couple of weeks, he's been practicing doing things one-handed for a while, etc.  Et CETERA. Ettttttttt ceteraaaaaa.  I did try to book a trip to Russia, but he hid my passport.

I am not a nurse.  I never wanted to be a nurse.  I might hate only one thing more than I hate being a nurse -- and that's being a teacher.  But I think I'd choose teacher over this.  Snotty-nosed kids?  Suddenly I love them.  Where do I sign up? 

One nice thing he's been doing for me, though:  He's been sending a parade of men to have me interview them about yard work and such.  He's even vetting them to make sure they're cute first. Can you imagine?  I'm totally serious.  So I've got the hunky contractor coming for part of the summer, and now I get to choose my yard guy.  Last night David said, "And if that's not enough, the mason called...." 

I could totally get used to this. THIS, my dears, is exactly the kind of life I think I was put on earth for. Stuff will get done around here, AND I'll have some eye candy hanging around all summer.  Now.we're.talkin'.

This could actually be all right, except for the fact that I will have to take even more depositions to pay for all this help. So I must choose well, to be sure it's worth it. The guy last night was a keeper. David told me, "You'll like this one.  He's the reason Abigail is as tall as she is."

Of course I  immediately knew to whom he was referring. 

Backstory is in order, I guess. Back a very long time ago, when I was very young and very pregnant, and on maternity leave from the court, but had not yet had the baby, I was at home and the court was sending me many packages of steno notes that needed to be signed for. This guy was our mail carrier at that time.  He was a hunk.  He was a bodybuilder.  I was a gray and puffy bowling ball and feeling very unpretty at the time. 

Every day he'd ring the doorbell and he would say with sweet kindness and gorgeous eyes, "You haven't had that baby yet?" and he would say I looked lovely. Then when I had the baby, he would say I looked even lovelier and would chat with me for much longer than a mailman ought to do, you know, if he were supposed to be making his appointed rounds.  And so David assumed that ...  well, you know. 

NOT REALLY!  But we kidded about that a lot. Forever since that time, David has said Abigail looks like the mailman.  Last night Abigail called and he said to her, "Mom hired the former mailman to mow our lawn," to which Abigail replied, "Awwwww. My dad."  You can tell this has been a topic of dinner conversation since she was a wee girl.

So, yeah.  Maybe it's not going to be such a bad summer after all. 

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On another topic, (not that I'm trying to change the subject or anything) this crabapple tree has struggled since its very first day -- between borers and caterpillars and insects, bad pruning, and bad weather, it has never really been as pretty as I'd hoped since the day I planted it probably 18 years ago.  This year, though, it is a show-stopper.   

94. Spring Splurge

Yesterday my optometrist said my eyes are doing well, I should continue doing everything I'm doing and not doing everything I'm not doing, and if I were inclined to "upgrade my sunglasses," to make sure they were the polarizing kind. 

So, you know...
we got your fabulous Calvin Klein polarizing sunglasses right here.