Everybody now: switch

Another bit of unfinished back post business: the greatest that was the Switch Marker Swap. Look at the beauties the mail brought me:

From Heatherly. Don't these look like licorice candies? I love garnet. This was Heatherly's first swap, and she did rad good.

And the stamps on the package--Chanukah and Dr. Seuss? So cute. The Youngest Teen loves them.

From Sherry, who was kind enough to remember the markers I sent her in an earlier swap. The bath soak? History. It's supposed to be anti-stress, but it did a good job at anti-jet-lag, too.
And the card? Don't tell anyone, but I'm a sucker for light. I love painting which are luminous, like this.

But the main thing is, of course, the markers, and these rule. Delicate spiral nautili with iridescent beads. I can just see using these on black lace--they'd sparkle and be exquisite.

Now, Teresa has things all set up. Look at the cool packaging of her markers:

The leafy markers are very pretty, but this is the first time I've seen anything like the black and pink beads.

And finally, from Michaele, who is, happily, off the rat-poison.

What I didn’t realize, when I took this picture, is that if you flip over the ladybug markers, you can see the underside of the bug--legs and the underside of the body. How amazing is that?

Off the table, Mabel

Or: celebrating your inner ho.

Last night The Youngest Teen and I went to PTA meetings. She generally got good reviews (taking her was an insidious plot: teachers don't usually talk trash about a girl to her face). What did suprise me was how little emphasis was placed on academics. With only one exception (The Middle Teen's math teacher) all the teachers gushed about how personable my girls are, how involved they are in class activities, and how many friends they have. Um, excuse me--isn't the main classroom activity supposed to be learning? So please, a word or two about their grades? No--they give you a run-down of test scores nearly printed out to take home and warn you that this is in no way indicative of the report card marks, since classroom participation is at least 50% of the grade. Very nice--so would you flippin' tell me what's going on with my kid academically, including how well she participates in class? No, but I'll tell you about the great banner she made for the upcoming Development Town Seminar...

Grr.

Throughout the evening I had to talk The Youngest Teen out of sitting on the table, and I kept using the phrase my mother used on me. "Get off the table, Mabel, the two bucks are for the beer." Her best friend, whose parents are also Anglod, came up to us and said that her mother, born in Israel and raised in Atlanta, tells her the same thing. And I thought that we must both be terrible mothers, given what we're comparing our girls to.

But. It's time to embrace my inner ho. My inner Noro ho, that is.

When we were in Boston, The Spouse and I got together with JanJan and her Spouse for dinner. We took the T from Copley Square (I love public transportation. New Yorkers, I feel your pain.) We were coming from muchcloser in than they were, so we walked around, got a cup of coffee, passed the JFK birthplace and had a political discussion, visited a large indie bookseller, and then met up with them at Ta'am China on Harvard St. (The Spouse and I had eaten there the night before with other vendors from the convention, and were very happy to be going back.)

We talked politics and religion, fiber and food. And The Spouse and JanJan discovered that they grew up in the same neighborhood on Long Island. In the Jewish world, you always, but always, have some connection to the person you're speaking to. If the Spouse remembers to scan his kindergarten class picture and JanJan really is in it, well, I'll be the first knitblog with blackmail potential. ;-)

So where's the ho in all of this? JanJan wanted to bring me a gift, and after reading how I gushed when my SP sent me some Noro, look what she brought me!

Now I have to find the perfect use. I'm thinking, since my office is one of the unheated rooms in the house, that I should make myself some cold weather gear--a Panta, some fingerless gloves, a cowl for my neck. Then again, the lure of a felted bag...

Someone help me turn my inner Noro ho into a productive girl! I've got 2 skeins of one color way, and three of another--ideas, anyone?

And even better yet, look what JanJan made for me!

Aren't they just beautiful? Go on over to her blog and compliment her on them, I'll wait. They're too pretty not to be seen on a regular basis, so next time I'm in Tel Aviv or Jerusalem I'm getting some silver ear wires to slip the blues onto, and a nice catch and chin for the green. Because I deserve to be clothed in only the finest, right? Someone? Bueller? Anyone? Right?

Sometimes I do actually finish a project

I was going to make a 'splodey, Zib, but then the elections sarted. After March 28 I can always convert this guy with a cute little explosive vest and a kaffiyeh (he's talented that way).

Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you--

AMIR PERETZ!



Head of the Labor Party, striving hard to come off as further left than Ariel Sharon, the man and the mustache.

This juju doll is missing something right in the middle of its chest. That's right, the heart, because despite his platform, Peretz has no heart (during one strike, there had to be a special dispensation granted to allow the family of a terror victim to fly in, though the airport was closed). And only Xs instead of eyes, because his platform shows he can't see what's going on around him.

The empty loom? Given all the strikes he, as head of the labor union, has promoted over the past few years, do you even have to ask?

Get well, Ariel Sharon

PM Sharon suffers light stroke, rushed to hospital

You're such an important man, Arik, to the whole fate of the universe. Don't you think you should take some time off--not much, just a decade or two--to make sure you fully recover?

Currently playing: Ding Dong, the Witch is in Hospital

Goodbye, road. Welcome to jet-lag city.

Home at last. I wouldn't mind jet-lag so much if I didn't have kids at home. I work freelance, so I could, technically, get up whenever I wanted to, work my 10-12 hours, goof off, and then go back to bed.

But the former rugrats, now the Teens, have a real life. This morning the Oldest Teen needed to get up at 5:30, the Middle Teen and 6:00, and the Youngest Teen and her guest at 6:15. Not very conducive to a Mama reducing her sleep debt, especially when all the females in the house stayed up late last night watching the new Israeli reality TV show from the production mega-house of Tzvika Hadar, Born to Dance. Thank the heavens above for Lush's Whoosh temple balm.

I was surprised at my daughters' reactions to the dance program (it's American Idol meets the dance world). I hadn't realized they knew the subtle distinctions between swing dancing and early rock n' roll, between hip-hop and pop. I didn;t know that their dance vocabulary had so many jargon-y English words. And I didn't realize what budding feminists they are: they were very upset that the men knew they could go out and do porfessional-level dancing to get to the next level while the women mainly chose to sell themselves. They were cheerin last night when the least talented, most T&A of the night's dancers was voted off by the audience.

Back posting will continue until I get caught up on RL.

Bad blogger alert

It happens every time. I say I'll work consistent hours while I'm touring the States -- and I don't. I say I'll blog faithfully, and even though I download my pictures to my laptop, I don't blog.

But my Secret Pal sent me such a box of goodies I had to break my silence.



I swear, my SP is reading my mind. Noro. Noro, I tell you. Bath fizzies, which are my current obsession. Mary Engelbreit post-its, which I contemplated in her store at the St. Louis Galleria but couldn't buy because we had to leave for the airport. Euclan concentrate! Now I'll get to see if it’s as good as its rep. A Clover yarn cutter, which will replace the one I lost somewhere between Houston and St. Louis. And did I mention the Noro? Yarn needles (a girl's best friend), a small pen for my passport case, a gorgeous Chinese embroidery box and 4 super-cool stitch markers, and are you sure I mentioned the Noro? I have, hands-down, the best SP. Don't argue with me, I do. So there.

Now to the back posts…