ProseKnitic – of Words und Wolle

or down, as the case may be.

I awoke in the middle of the night thinking that I hadn’t finished the last post. I had started talking about two ways to get from house to street level. Then I admitted having challenges to climbing the stairs. But I never went back and explained the alternative.

I could have walked across the terrace from the dining room toward the craft room, then along the path which crossed our tiny square of lawn to the elevator. If it decides to agree, I could take it down the two stories and enter the garage at the back. With any luck, there would be enough space between the door and the switch so that I could hit the button to open the door. Please note, there is no pedestrian door to the outer world just the double garage door which goes up along a track similar to garage doors everywhere.

As long as there is no car parked right in front of the door, this works fine. If there is, the door bangs into the side of the car. If that car belongs to the Eldest, well let me just say that she doesn’t appreciate getting mongo scratches in her car paint. Since her car neatly fits completely onto the garage apron when parked perpendicular to the garage door, this is the occasional possibility.

From the street, the issue is the reverse. As long as no one is parked in front of the garage, it is possible to open the door. However, it doesn’t open without a bit of manual effort. I am trying to protect my back. Automatic opener? There might have been one once, but I haven’t seen it in over 8 years. Don’t need it from the inside (hit the button) and from the outside – well I had teenagers around for years which really took care of the problem.

As I headed back up last night I decided that hiking up was good for fitness, faster than dealing with garage and elevator, and besides – I can see going up!

I know that I have mentioned more than once that our house in Heidelberg is on top of a hill. There are two ways up to the house, and correspondingly – two ways from the terrace to the street level parking.

There is a multi-section flight of stairs totally 60 in number from the street, through the front gate and along the house on the right side of the property. As long as it is not pouring rain or knee deep in snow, climbing the stairs any time of day doesn’t seem to be a problem. There are the stairs, there are several landings on the way up and there are railings. I know where those steps are and going up them can be done on auto pilot. It is fairly easy to anticipate the next step.

Coming back home from dropping off friends this evening I once again noticed the outdoor lighten phenomena. Going up the stairs, the lights are on the left and shine down and across the stairs throwing the steps into sharp relief. I can see where I am going.

Leaving the house, which translates to going down the stairs is a completely different issue. Those lights are on my right side going down the stairs. They are shining down the stairs, if one is willing to dignify those pale few lumens as outdoor lighting. The dark yellow-orange glow from the lamps looks malevolent; failing to provide my eyes the clues needed for a three dimensional vision of the steps. I descend slowly and carefully, unable to distinguish the edge of the step visually from the one directly below. Each flight appears flat to my eyes. Those last few steps before the gate are the most treacherous curving to the right while absent the security of a railing.

Now, since the lights had been on for the 15 minutes I had been gone I am be willing to believe that these evil lights are of the new energy saving kind which take a while to warm up and provide light. Since this time I didn’t turn them off and back on in a futile attempt to decrease the number of times we have to spend a day fighting the fixtures to replace burned out bulbs.

Perhaps I am more dark adapted on return? But really, I think it is a sad but safe conclusion that I am getting older and just don’t see as well.

It seems like a good excuse anyway. It explains the challenge of reading menus, difficulty in locating food on the plate, or attempting knitting in the average evening restaurant. It also provides a rationale for me stumbling through the house at night, not seeing the stuff that is lying there just waiting for the opportunity to maim me.

Shall we skip over the part about this not being any different now than when we bought the house in 2001? Or that I have been complaining about restaurants for years?

Nah – I am just looking for an excuse to explain those dropped stitches in the shawl that came to the Saturday afternoon Stricktreff at Red.

Since my Canon 7D developed a hiccup while in Chicago and needs to visit the camera hospital, I pulled out my older Rebel XTI. Taking some shots of various knitting, I set the camera to download to my hard drive and wandered off. Heading back a few minutes later with a cup of tea, I was astonished to find the job still incomplete. It wasn’t a dozen or so pictures on the memory card, it was hundreds.

Not taken by me, it was obvious that most of these had been taken by the Mole. What is more, it seems like 2010 was the year. There were photos of Norway, there were photos from the Tall Ship Races, there were photos from his short stint at RIT. When the download was complete I wandered downstairs to hand him the chip and card reader.

“Found some photos that I think belong to you – Midnight Sun, Tall Ship Parade, that sort of thing”

He had thought they were lost, gone for good. I promised to go through the rest of the cards that have been tucked into the corner of my camera bag.

I wonder if I will find any more to compare with this –

I am sheepy -

or is that sleepy?

The good thing about catching a plane at 1600 on a Chicago afternoon is that the flight – around 8 hours – gets in about midnight (biological time) where it is supposed to be morning at the landing place (add in the seven hours of time zone change).

I was surprised not to be more confused than I was for the rest of the day.

So far I have managed to

• Photo’s the new additions to the stash (which also meant finding the power adapter, charging a the camera battery and down loading 427 pictures on my powershot (I have no clue who it was that got married, or the identity of the boy with the bubbles or took the photos. Family? Anyone?)
• emptied suitcases.
• Get the boy to take out trash, bio and recycle (some of it more than one container), start on his room and clean the downstairs bathroom as well as make a trip down to the cobbler to recover repaired shoes
• picked up a refill at the pharmacy and found that the appointment George had for the morning wasn’t on the books (no clue why someone called me to schedule something then forgot to enter it but hey – this works. Stopping up stairs to say hi to Denise and met this dude (Viet Nam Vet and guru of dealing with the VA) who provided me some extremely useful information about Chapter 35 (which is not the same, and doesn’t overlap with Post 9-11 GI Bill). Who was it that said money that helps pay for kids education is good?
• cleaned out the fridge (once again, stuff had died in there while I was gone. I think they all just leave it for me so that I will feel useful).

I thought about knitting – but then decided that I really needed sleep. The morning will be soon enough to finish up this scarf which has grown by more than a dozen pattern repeats and get it in the mail to Chicago.

Since this was not a really exciting day (we went out and bought pj’s) I thought it was about time to share pictures of the place. Not exactly all set up or organized pictures since these were taken a few days ago, but still they are pictures.

Exposed brick walls, hard wood floors, a lot of built in storage and, for some reason, a mirror backing on the interior partial wall which encloses off a den space. The Gwen is thrilled at having another dog in the place with her but has not yet figured out why that golden retriever won’t share toys and seems to do exactly the same as her, even dropping things.

Which means that after all that hard work, Gwen has found a comfortable location out of the way, underneath the breakfast bar in which to tuck herself.

Moving on – walking into the place right now you get a lovely expanse of window, wall, polished floors and open space.

The kitchen area is on the left hand wall as you enter, once past the small coat closet and the two utility cupboards.

I didn’t photo the den space, the bathroom or the built in storage along the hall going down the right hand hall toward the sleeping space. Courtesy of some friends (college roommate of George’s, truth be told) we have been sleeping on a double layer full size air bed for the last few days.

.

And then I mentioned the bedroom closet?

Some of us are organized, and others less so. At home I have gotten to the point where I try to be very careful about wallet and keys since it annoys me, much less everyone else when leaving the house turns into a large production.

There was a lot of snow today and ice on the roads. Now 19F (about -10C) doesn’t bother me all that much since growing up in Minnesota teaches you about cold weather, preparedness and the value of hats and gloves. We even started the day with a plan. Get it together (have breakfast, get stuff together, get the dog out and get into the car), head to Evanston to pick up my cousin’s son (now, technically he is also a cousin. If I want the clear relationship, I ask Beverley who is an expert on these kinds of things. Never the less, even though he is the son of my first cousin, I think of him as a nephew since he is the same age as my youngest.) before proceeding out to Deerfield to visit my other first cousin’s son.

I have mentioned that our family is small, right? Like I only have two first cousin’s (only one of which has children)?

Anyway, we headed up Lakeshore Drive, went turned right, drove a number of miles. Gertrude behaved herself just fine and got us to where we needed to go.

After a lovely day and evening, she even got us home and directed us to get off I94 at the Taylor Street/Roosevelt exit which puts us within five blocks of where we needed to go.

If my camera battery wasn’t being snarky at the moment, I would show you the 30+cm of scarf I started taken from Radical Change since Ms Soprano doesn’t have much in the way of decent scarves and the wind can be a bit cold here.

Oh, the bit about the pockets? I had been in possession of the second set of apartment keys since the beginning of the week and for whatever reason hadn’t seen them in days. I had taken apart the suitcases, backpacks and purses as well as check counter tops, floors and outerwear. What I had forgotten was the blazer neatly hung in the closet. The one which had bulge in the pocket when I donned it this morning.

It seems to me that my daughter could live her entire life within a mile radius of the apartment. The apartment takes care of the basics – shelter, place to sleep/laundry/shower/study/entertain/lcook/eave the dog during the day.

Columbia College falls within that mile as does the Public Library. Added to that she can get to a Dominick’s (Safeway), Whole Foods, Trader Joe’s and Jewel Osco (same corporate parent as Giant) within easy walk. Multiple Starbucks abound along with any fast food you could want. Then there is Target, multiple movie theaters, parks, museums and sports stadiums. The L is only two blocks away at Roosevelt where she can connect with the Red, Blue and Orange lines.

If you want fancy shops, just head over to State Street (one block west) and walk north. Michigan Avenue is a block east. Same thing – head a few blocks north and you are in the center of everything.

All of this was running through my mind as I was headed back to the city. It seems that accidents and slow downs are all too common. Gertrude, my friendly (?) GPS, directed me off the Kennedy when it looked like more than an hour delay. Heading across multiple streets wasn’t all that bad and following the directions got me back on the I-90 just as the traffic was starting to move.

I have no clue as to why it directed me off at Ohio. In any case I will never do that again. There is a problem with being dropped off in the middle of skyscrapers – you can lose satellite feed. If you don’t know where you are, you don’t know where to go next. Given that all Chicago drivers are insane, stopping was totally and completely out of the question. Without a clue I kept on driving.

Oh – State Street! I know State Street and it only took me three blocks to figure out that I was driving in the wrong direction. After that it was a matter of getting turned around and heading back south. Just about two blocks from 13th and Wabash Gertrude kicks back in and tries to give me directions.

Do you think I listened to her?

Ms Soprano is off at orientation.

I got to spend a fair amount of time at Hertz (O’Hare Airport) turning in the van and picking up a much smaller car. It wasn’t supposed to take very long. Except …
1) they were out of cars, so it was 45 minutes. Ok, I can live with that – I had my iPod and knitting. I also had a box of “stuff” that had been left in the van. Had not planned on leaving anything in the van. So there I sit with a box at my feet surrounded by all these elegantly dressed people with their fancy suitcases. Go figure, I just ignored them.
2) USAA forgot that I was in the US and bounced my credit card. Not a good time, glad I had a back up. Their excuse later was …. they sent me an email to request that I log on to answer their questions.

All of part two I had no clue about until end of the afternoon when I stopped in to some friends in order to get a fixed phone for an 800# call and to access email. Not like all of us always have email.

So, meanwhile, I get through Costco on a debit card (same account as the credit card) without difficulty. Go figure, I can’t.

Stopping by a friends I call USAA and they tell me about their wonderful attempts to thwart fraud on my account. I tell them about the ugliness of standing at the Hertz counter and having my credit card refused. They tell me about sending an email. I ask them why they would think I had email while traveling.

We both take a breath. I once again give them phone numbers, they once again apologize and assure me there should be no problems. Huh.

Heading back to Chicago. Have not heard from the daughter since we parted ways at her orientation. Didn’t put her number in my phone.

So I have just sent her an email with my number and asked her to call …….

The car is unloaded and I wiped out for the evening.

Gwen has more or less adjusted to the new location. She is not thrilled about boxes or being refused a place on the bed. But other than that, she is fine.

The other two of us (Nina and I) are another story – we still have a whole list of things to do and get.

She has orientation in the morning and I need to swap out the van for something a bit more reasonably priced.

It has not been a quiet year in Lake Woebegone.

I spent the first quarter of the year deployed to Afghanistan and the month of April trying to get retired out of the military with the correct paperwork. And, as you are aware, a lot of the rest of the year traveling. Not counting my AF frequent PAX terminal stops (Germany, seven different locations in Afghanistan + Kuwait) I managed to get to New Orleans, Boston, NYC, DC, VA, CA, Seattle, AK, FL  (we will not count plane changes in lovely locations like Huston). Besides Germany I can count Spain, the Canaries, Italy, Austria, France, Monoco, UK, BE, NL in Europe plus Mexico, Belize, Panama and Honduras in Central America. A lot of these just might be secondary to cruise ships but I am going to count them just the same.

The Mole did miserably in school and was unceremoniously brought back home. The Maus graduated. Ms Soprano fell, broke her foot and got to come back to German to heal complete with golden retriever.  The Eldest overcame a lot of challenges in her personal life and has motored forward with impressive equanimity.  George spent entirely too much time on the road.

This fall seemed to be more of the same. The Mole was not a happy camper, Ms Soprano spent the fall taking classes on line so that she would not lose the semester completely. She also proved that self discipline is the difference between success and not when achieving personal goals. Maus started at Pratt and successfully completed her first semester. The Eldest is an amazing photographer. Unfortunately – with the increasing sophistication of digital cameras it is harder and harder to make a decent living at it. George is looking to win an award for the most hours spent on evening conference calls in one week. So far his personal best seems to be 20+ hours.

Which takes us to this evening – friends over for dinner, 3/4 offspring actually present for the meal and then there are fireworks which normally last for 30 minutes or more.

I wish you all the best in the coming year!

Ok, I know that today is Friday – I can figure out that much. It also must mean that yesterday was Thursday.

See? I can get it together once in a while.

Really!

It was about 1400 when my migraine meds wore off enough that I was coherent. Or thought I was coherent – I didn’t ask either Ms Soprano or the DH if I was. Anyway – we headed downtown as someone (not me) needed jeans that were not going to fall off her bum due to serious successful weight loss. While we were at it, the thought was to drop off boots for re-soling.

(Insert comment here about Betriebsferien. For you non-German speakers, the effect is that they were out of office, closed up till after the first of the year).

We found jeans, a winter jacket and a lot of socks, leggings, tights, belts and slippers). I think the lady ringing them up kind of arched her eyes a bit, but since the collection was going to cover five adults I didn’t think we had done too badly.

Once home, I think I crawled back to bed at some point.

Oh, yes – I forgot – I also made a trip to the grocery store.

Isn’t my life just so exciting (grin).

My life is nothing but exciting. The Mole and I had eye exam appointments today.

We have eyes. I may need trifocals (or finally make the switch to progressives) and he could stand a bit of plus up for reading/computer use. Since he was done first, with disposable sunglasses, the boy hiked home. I waited for a ride since hiking carrying library books, camera, knitting and who knows what else in a heavy bag was not my idea of a good time. Did I mention the dilated pupils?

That was not the high point of the day – there were only two of us today at Shanda’s house (her and me) for the Heidelberg Fiber Frauen. We weren’t sure if it was the holidays, the fact that getting onto PHV is a pain or what, but we have a lovely time just relaxing and knitting.

The guys, meanwhile, had made a run to the recycling center making that two car loads this week.

Every birthday is a milestone when you are young.

Months counted when you were really little; then quarters and halves. I think it actually takes until you are in the 20s before the halves drop away.

If you are a military brat there are two key birthdays – 21 and 23. Twenty-one is when normal adulthood strikes and you are dropped from the family payroll. If you just happen to be a military dependent and still in school working on your first degree, you can be extended until 23. At which point you turn into a pumpkin.

This particular pumpkin turned 23 today and I don’t have a photo to share. She has turned her life around in the last six months and I am terribly proud (not taking any credit – it has been her hard work and discipline).  Right after the first of the year she heads back to the US. Her and the pup.

 

The pup, who of course, knows that she is in the center of the world.

So there I am in Zurich looking to return to Frankfurt.

Since one of the other members of the Aeris crew is headed through Frankfurt on the same flight before changing planes/airlines/whatever to go home (California) I opt to take up David’s offer on sharing his cab and save a number of minutes off the Tram ride to the Airport.

He can go through the high class security rat run designed for those important enough to have gold cards. I go through the peon gate. This is Switzerland. They are precise and don’t offer courtesy to those not entitled. As it turns out, our flight is not exactly near the lounge and we meet back up in the gate area.

At boarding we part ways – he is in the front, I am just glad for a seat on the plane and to find that it is not in the last row in front of the latrines.

Frankfurt – the Lufthansa arrival lounge in Terminal “B” is for inbound international customers, not the rest of us mortals. I hang out at the USO and wait till Maus arrives.

She is easy to spot. Long blond hair, grinning face and towing frosted green suitcases. She was right on the color – nothing like it anywhere on the baggage carousel.

We make the train back with a minute to spare, change in Mannheim and are picked up by the Eldest. All happy to be home.

I found it as I headed back up those long 60 steps to the house. I have no clue as to where it blew in from nor why it caught my eye. The weather has turned colder these last few days leaving an occasional bit of frost on unsuspecting grass and leaves hidden in dark corners. But evergreen and mini-cones? Or pine berries? I have absolutely no clue.

I brought it in, dropped it on top of one of the comforters and took a picture before all the ice had melted.

You don’t want to see what was left several hours later. Apparently it tasted either very good or extremely nasty to Ms Soprano’s dog…..

Once upon a time, I had a bread machine. A very nice one as a matter of fact – made by Morphy-Richards. Unfortunately, as it turns out. They are a UK based company. They also have a German website. The UK company does not ship to Germany, ever – under any circumstances. The German face of the company provides no way to order parts.

I did mention that this was a bread machine, right? All bread machines need this neat little blade things in order to kneed the bread. Unfortunately they are not all that large. Careless people who don’t look at the heel of a loaf could manage to toss out that heel with the kneeding blade still embedded. I don’t think I have to draw much more of a picture now do I?

I had started soup -

and wanted fresh bread. It isn’t like I don’t know how to do it by hand. Did that for years when I was young, dumb and had a lot of hand and wrist strength. I did find a nice quick rising recipe

and so I had bread to go with my soup …… mushroom and leek if I forgot to say what kind.

When the kids were little, one of the ways I could get them to make the very long hike down the Hauptstrasse in Heidelberg from Kornmarkt below where we lived to Bismarktplatz was to promise to stop and watch the Bubble Bear. Perched on the balcony railing between the ground and first floor, the Bubble Bear sat in his chair happily blowing bubbles. Werner’s – the store whose front entrance he guarded was a variety store of the fun kind with chairs, beach buckets, candles, art supplies, greeting cards, toys and other fascinating things (and of course, bubble stuff). A small craft section could be depended upon for that last minute “thing.”

One of the years in which the Army sentenced me to be somewhere else, Werner’s – a Heidelberg institution for decades – just went out of business, unable to compete with the high rents and increasing tourist traffic. As a result, a downtown landmarkt which had delighted several generations of children was seen no more. There were no soap bubble floating overhead as the bear dipped his wand into his brightly colored container before putting it up to his face and blowing another stream of bubbles.

Yesterday as I walked past the clothing store which replaced the former variety store, a soap bubble landed light as a butterfly on my nose. Looking up, there he was ensconced once again his balcony chair, the Bubble Bear appearing as if he had never left and had nothing more important in the world to do but blow bubbles.

The tourists didn’t get it, but I overheard a young mother explain to her toddler that this was a special bear who was back by magic; that she had seen him blowing bubbles when she was young.

With a smile I headed back toward home after using my camera to send a quick picture to a couple of kids to evoke a memory of their childhoods as well.

before the meter ran out.

All of this started with a trip to Prakitker for a radiator key. No, wait, that is sort of the end of the story rather than the beginning. It really started with the morning’s outing – Maus having a early Drs appointment. She thought 0800, I thought 0900. It was too cold to wander around for an hour so I got to enjoy an hour of knitting in the waiting room. Since she survived her torture, we headed off to do a bit of shopping (tights are a necessity if you persist in wearing dresses and skirts in NYC). Then of course there is Lebkuchen and Gummi Bears. At this point, packages in both of our hands that I broke down and sprung for a cab home rather than walk the entire length of the Hauptstrasse, take the strass and still have to hike up the hill.

Besides, my excuse was that we really needed to get home since round #2 was about to begin. The Mole had an appointment this afternoon during which time I managed to run a couple of errands and get in almost an hours worth of knitting while someone (I will not mention her name but she is really time lagged) nodded off to sleep a couple of chairs over.

Radiator key in hand – we (Maus and I) took the Mole on a detour. He now has replacements for his hiking shoes which were falling apart and didn’t object when we added a couple of sales sweaters to his shopping pile.

The meter cost a Euro and was good only for an hour. We made it back from downtown just in time and in just enough time to notice the Indian take away place.

We took curry home.

But first, for the skeptics in the group – my new shoes are bright – you can see them here.

After getting up early so as to not miss the furnace guy, I headed back to my bed for just a few minutes. I swear, I only closed my eyes for a second. Suddenly, it was 0845 and he had come and gone. I never even heard the buzzer. The Eldest had, and she did the letting him in the door honors and the Mole talked to him.

Obviously, by a few hours later it was obvious that at least some of the radiators were working. Which reminds me – it is “registers” when you have forced air heat and radiators when you have water running through them, right? It may take a few days for everything to warm up, but it is now higher than 12C in the house.

Oh, yes and the missing piano bench I have been hunting since May? It was behind the door in the furnace room where it had been masquerading as a step stool.

 

In fact, if I hadn’t picked up my rainbow sneakers, today would have been a total and complete waste of time. As it turns out, the furnace guy is not coming till tomorrow (fill in grumbling by off-spring who quietly got up this morning in case the door needed to be answered. No issues till the Mole called in the afternoon to find the correct day was Wednesday.).

And then there is the Red Cross. They don’t want to process me as a volunteer in case I might start working. Says it gets things confused. Go Figure. Meanwhile, CPO apparently still can’t find its way clear. Think they will about the time I get on a plane for Mallorca..

As a result, I achieved little today that was useful.

Except that I have rainbow running shoes (New Balance – trust me – this are bright!)

today marks 61 years. From the number of comments on other posts and in my email I figured not to wait till the end of the day to write since it seems that most of you remember from last year. Speaks to all of your great organizational skills.

I mentioned dinner last night, George took me to brunch today. The girls were most gracious with the Eldest finding me goodies and baking a small cake just for me; the Mole cleaned his room. Maus sent me email just after midnight.

I got a nice nap in the sun since we are having wonderful weather, did a bit of knitting and am listening to Howl’s Moving Castle.

And, if you want a bit of real fun – go read Mur Brewster’s comments on baking pies (as she has just survived another birthday).

After making large number of plans for today – I blew them all off. George was not exactly feeling up to snuff and managed to snore most engagingly for a good portion of the afternoon after wiping out on cold remedies.

It is also the first of Oct – I could lift my ban on new knitting/sewing projects. Or maybe alternate new things with finishing old?

In spite of my promise for nothing new in Sept – I managed three scarves (traveling and out of knitting), one test knit (a cowl) while frogging 6 items and finishing up three shawls, a baby pod, a vest, a cardigan and a pair of socks. The UFO/WIP pile has been diminished. In fact, it all fits into one container (well, it will as soon as I put away the yarn) and add the SOA which has been hanging around since before Kuwait. I think I had forgotten about that one. I even had started finishing the Norwegian Star Vest (1999) and was doing well till I ran out of yarn. As soon as I figure out which of all of those boxes has the last skein of grey – it can be completed as well.

So – should I start something new? Or continue up the back of Chess for George?

In other events – the crew took me out for dinner last night. We tried The Sahara at 165 Hauptstrasse. The food was ok, the service was horrible. Not because the waitresses didn’t care, but simply there was no way the three waitstaff could cover the entire restaurant, outside eating area and counter when the weather was lovely and the take-away was brisk. It is back to Cedars (Hauptrasse 105) for me.

One of the things that had not occurred to me when I retired was that checking the mail was to be a pain; similar to when I was in the UK. Not exactly local, although a few miles each way is much more convenient than 65 miles each way, I have to actually plan and execute the trip.

Plan it because it makes no sense to arrive at a time that the post office is not open in case I might just have a package. Executing the mission is just one more thing to add to the day. It doesn’t happen when I am out of town. Almost all financial correspondence comes these days electronically. Periodicals arrive via the German Post. Certainly we get enough junk mail and shopping flyers to fill the paper bin each month.

So when I get asked if something has arrived I answer without ever thinking about, or mentioning the last time I even checked for mail. Nope – nothing.

Instead of – yes – I have packages!

Including this totally pathetic and abused package. Please ignore my coffee cup. There were two books and a comic from a fellow SciFi fan in Baltimore. First mailed to my deployment address in Afghanistan it was forwarded to the 62nd’s rear detachment at Joint Base Lewis-McCord since we had all left end of March. One of the sergeant’s there figured out that I wasn’t in the unit and sent it on to me here. Only took a bit over 3 months all told.

I also received a number of patterns ordered from Reconstructing History.

Most importantly, there was a package that left California 30 Aug 2011

a card and this luscious scarf tucked into a bag for save keeping.

A wonderful shade of red, this scarf is so soft and airy yet warm. It will brighten up my winter and coordinate beautifully with my grey coat. I knew it was out there in the mail only because Alison had inquired when I hadn’t said anything a month after it had been sent. So no, it wasn’t lost. It arrived at our local APO about 13 Sept, after my last visit to the post office prior to catching that Space-A flight from Ramstein.

From now on I will have to caveat everything with “please remember, I only go to the post office every 2-3 weeks and haven’t checked my box since (fill in date>.”

So I have a strange sense of humor and, after wearing nothing but hand knit socks for years have begun buying bright, colorfull comercial socks now and again.

The first time was in Monoco when I discovered Berthe aux Grand Pieds (not the woman, but the socks). Since then I have occasionally picked up fun socks when I found them.

Imagine my delight when Hancock”s Fabrics, AC Moores and Joann’s Fabrics all put their Halloween things on sale in September. I don’t know about you, but I thought that the party didn’t start till 31 Oct.

Anyway – for $1/pair – rather than doing laundry I wore a few pairs during the second half of my stateside trip. Since neither daughter here seemed at all thrilled, I still have these -

to wear for the rest of the month.

As I am sitting in Heathrow T5 for hours on end I am wondering at why I did this to myself.

Oh, right! $600 savings, that is why. Changing planes was cheaper than a direct flight, especially with only 7 days advanced purchase (and a return date more than 1 month in the future). Thinking about it now, I should have taken the puddle jumper to Philadelphia and then Singapore Airlines, but I didn’t.

Anyway – somehow I missed read the time I got in vs the time my flight departed. We arrived ~ 1100 after circling London a few times on the flight path merry-go-round. My outbound flight was 1645. That is almost 6 hours – and Ocean Nessie – complete with beads

was finished and I was out of knitting.

Can you believe it? The woman who always travels with 4-5 times the number of knitting projects that could ever be completed was out of yarn! I wasn’t out of reading material and after trawling through the shops it became obvious that I was not purchasing anything (sorry, but L465 for a leather iPad cover is really stretching it, even if it is by Mulberry. At least in the opinion of someone who bought a great padded leather case for her iPad on sale at less than 30$US).

I read from London to Frankfurt. Took the train from Frankfurt to Mannheim and actually managed to connect to the WiFi – letting my three at home know that I was on my way.

Exhausted, I got off the S-Bahn connection from Mannheim at the Heidelberg Westadt-Suedstadt stop to find Ms Soprano and the Gwennie waiting for me. Hiking home in the dark (now going on 36 hours of wakefulness) I was more than grateful for the company and someone else to carry the back-pack and computer bag. The Gwen behaved like a perfect lady on the leash which was good because there is no way that I could have held on should she have bolted.

Being home, in my own bed is wonderful.

in this box?

This is Odin, Carmen’s cat who, in typical cat fashion appeared the moment the box landed on the floor. He is not a small cat. While the box is not all that tiny,

as you can see he well overflows the box.

None the less, like the traditional joke where the foolish woman asks her husband a question about her appearance then is stunned and startled by the answer, so is Odin not pleased when we started to laugh as both Carmen and I started the joke at the same time. Just filling in the “So, do I look fat in this box?” for the traditional inquiry about pants.

 

In the last couple of days I have made significant progress in cleaning up the studio. There are several quite easy to understand reasons for the cleanup. Perhaps the most important was that I could no longer get anything done. The disaster area had just about driven me around the bend.

I also had committed to having several friends from the local knitting groups over for a craft morning – which just happens to be tomorrow. I would much rather sit around in the studio where I have everything we could possibly needthan risk people losing pins in the living room furniture.

You remember me showing you pictures of piles of boxes? All those boxes had to be emptied. I was down to the last few, which really didn’t help since those contained all the hard to figure out things. Plus – there are two ways to clean -

*Sort as you go and put away at the end

*Deal with each item as you go so there is nothing left at the end.

I decided to go the second route – and not handle most things 2-3x as I went.

And once I started taking it out of the boxes, or off the top of the boxes things started looking a whole lot worse before I could see any progress at all.

which is actually amazing considering that I found the floor at all. Something like hours (maybe days) later and several bags of trash and shredded papers, I realized that I was putting stuff on the desk, messing up the one area that might have been ok prior to my cleaning start.

When things got too insane, I borrowed the guy

who helped me scrub out the windows, do yet another round of vacuuming and carry out extra stuff. This was, of course, made possible by finally getting enough boxes moved and cleaning off the window sill (said window was solid stuff when I left for the UK so I can’t blame the entire mess on the fact that the movers dropped off all those boxes in my studio).

As of 2200 -

The room has been reorganized. I can get inside the cabinet and reach all the shelves. The various stuffed animals are on safe perches and not susceptible to being snatched by the retriever for ransom (or chewing).

My table is now on the sunny end of the room with plenty of extra space, printer and counter with the use of the window area.

And I even beat the deadline by 11 hours…….

Several days ago – I discovered the following mess on the living room floor.

This is not exactly how I pictured trying to use these particular yarns. They were in a bag, minding their own business when they were captured, tortured and given a shaking for good measure.

Ms Soprano then was privileged, as the responsible adult, to unsnarl the whole mess.

who apparently has been know to act like a feline.

Check off another year!

In honor of our anniversary, the weather today was hot. Sun shining, birds singing and the house needed cleaning.

Sometimes I wonder if any of the fundamentals of my life have changed at all.

We managed to load the car this morning chock full of things which needed to go to the recycle center. Stopping on the way, we had breakfast at Juice. Mini-omelets with tomatoes, feta and olives. Flat bread with cheese, milch kaffee and, of course, juice.

Open and airy without the echos that come with many of the modern designs, it also looks like a nice place to stop in the afternoon for a cup of tea and a bit of knitting. The service personnel are excellent and friendly (bucking also the trend trendy places needing waitstaff who sneer at customers).

Just as good as dinner last night at our favorite Thai restaurant. And that sums up the special things we did together since I am not really counting emptying out the car or sorting things in the basement storage rooms or attempting to get screens on a couple of windows.

Our evening had been preempted by a friend of George’s (dating back to the kids in the Altstadt Kindergarten) who was celebrating his 65th birthday. The salad was excellent, as was the pumpkin soup with the fresh fruit in chocolate mouse to die for.

Otherwise – I am listening to Tom Smith’s Death Sheep Radio which has a nice mix of filk, political satire and general whacky humor. The studio recordings in the play list are by far better than the live recordings, but hey – I am not complaining. I need the up as I wade through the studio which is in that horrible situation of looking worse before it gets better. I am down to the last box, I can see the window desk top and there are enough sucked dry insects to prove that spiders rule over all.

I promise pictures on Monday. Honest.

I certainly don’t think of myself as a hoarder, but I do have a lot of stuff. It is occupying space in more than a few rooms in this house. There is yarn, wool, fabric, sewing machines, books, magazines, spinning wheels, puzzles, knitting needles and computer equipment in the studio. There are books and knitting in the bedroom. There are bookcases and storage containers in the hall. There are books and more computer stuff in the office; there are full bookcases, spinning wheels and a weaving loom in the entry way. There are books and a small amount of wool in the living room (and two spinning wheels? not sure and have to check).

I am not wedded to most of this stuff. I have “plans” for a large amount of it – but much of it I would happily give to someone who was going to make use of it. I don’t save things that I might not use. I throw out things that don’t work and can’t be fixed.  I don’t have all the shoes, clothing or sweaters that I have ever bought or made. I have lots of thermos coffee mugs (still looking for the perfect one) but have been known to pass on/toss out those that I don’t want any more, don’t work well or are missing their lids.

I have been steadily weeding out books, yarn and fiber; finding homes for many of the items with someone who will love them more than I.

All of this leads me to our three storage rooms in the basement: another part of the interlocking mess that is our home. The furthest back room has been home to suitcases and a dozen cardboard boxes since we moved into the house. Going through them today – there is a set of three suitcases with clothes in them that arrived in 2006. Said items were originally left with me in Kuwait in 2003 for safe keeping while a fellow officer went to the HQ in the Green Zone. She hadn’t picked them up by the time I left in 2004. When my successor was leaving Kuwait in 2006, they were mailed to me (clinic was closing and relocating) because I was in Europe and MPS was free.

For a number of years I attempted to return the things. Finding the officer once, she laughed her head off that I still had them because she had effectively forgotten about them. Never did get any disposition instructions. Six years? I don’t think that there is any point in hanging on to them any longer. Tomorrow they are going to PHV and going on the free shelves. This is sturdy, middle of common sense pants and shirts (of the kind most often worn by civilians on deployment) and someone will get use out of them. The suitcases will also land there, again someone have something better than Walmart.

And then there are the VCR tapes, boxes of them. I am not referring to commercially produced tapes, rather all the shows taped from the TV in the early 1980s. Primarily German kids stuff, there are a few movies and educational programs as well. No one volunteered to burn them onto DvDs, so they will also make a one-way trip to the recycle center (except for those that one friend said she might find takers for).

Did I mention every backpack, suitcase and messenger bag that we have ever bought was hiding back in that room? Well almost every one. There are a couple upstairs right now and it looks like the brown set we had when first married are no longer around. Some of the packs and cases have rips, tears and scuffs gouged half-way through the bottom. This is before we discuss mold, stains and old lunches that have petrified. I now have the box of “things to disgusting to donate or pass along.”  Don’t you think that single, worn through shoes and torn curtains fall into the same category?

Now, none of this stuff is mine. So I am not a hoarder…. Right?

 

There are all these new procedures out there to make it safe and better for you.

Never mind that in the process you can go totally insane. For example – we got Social Security Cards for the kids when they were all infants. Meant that there were no problems along the way when the IRS started insisting on those very same numbers being on any tax return where you claimed said young’uns as dependants.

With the younger crew, it means we did that between 18-22 years ago. No hassles, right? And the cards were put in a safe place so that they would not get lots. I even made copies of them just in case. Fast forward to the Mole trying to do his selective service registration – first we find that you can’t do it from overseas without going to the Consulate (or, perhaps the local military passport office, but I will get to that later). While he was in the US last year, he got on line, only to find out that his SSN was “wrong.” He was reading it off his ID. What he had on his ID card did not match what we had on the IRS forms, but confusion had been introduced into the system.

Our tax records matched the Social Security Admin’s Database and the correct number is on his registration. Back to the challenges: for whatever reason, the guys never got the number fixed in the Army system. Further, banks want SSN verification prior to opening up checking/savings on young people. Using the number on his ID card obviously bounced when it was checked and he became flagged somehow.
The Army, bless their rules, were willing to take either his SSN card (we don’t have it) or his Selective Service Document as proof of the correct number and make the change. Asking them to print out a DEERS form for validation – lo and behold – DEERS now assignes a DOD ID number and no longer uses SSNs as of 1 June. Good for security (maybe) but bad in terms of validating what number the Mole really has.

(Aside here – the difference in the numbers was one digit in the middle of the last four which maybe why we never spotted it. Wrong number duplicated.)

The Military Passport office does in fact do the paperwork for Social Security Cards. They have the forms, make copies of all the supporting documents (two forms of proof of citizenship – never mind that a passport is a derivative based off the birth certificate which was the other document which was required), and sends them off to the Consultate in Frankfurt who will mail him his card sometime in the next 4-6 weeks.

Meanwhile, I am about to have another go-round with the bank. I think they should take the Selective Service paperwork since that particular organization independently verifies the SSN.

The recommendation I have for all of you is to go and check to make sure that you have the basic life documents that you need. It is much easier to get birth certificates, SSN cards, marriage licenses, death certificates, and the like when there is no pressure. Then figure out a decent filing system so that you don’t have to dig through a desk piled so high with stacks and binders that an avalanche would be inevitable. When we get that far in the cleaning – you will get a before and after photo.