Knitting and smelling

Recently I attended a bridal shower in which the theme was kitchen gadgets. I bought my gadget, a pizza cutter, and was attempting to wrap it in a somewhat cutesy fashion. I put it in a little gift bag, but it rattled around in the bag and I was afraid it was going to rip open several large and unsightly holes, rendering the act of gift-wrapping moot. So I grabbed some tissue paper to pad around the pizza cutter, and then in the act of getting distracted from the task at hand, I lost the tissue paper. I could not find where I had put it no matter how carefully I looked. Uttering several loud GRRRRRRRRRs, I cast about for something else to pad the gift with and I hit upon some dishcloths I had knitted in years' past and stuck two of them in the bag to cushion the pizza cutter. Knitted dishcloths=double duty: padding and washing!

The dishcloths were well-received at the shower, and one lady came up to me and said, "It was my birthday recently, why didn't you give me dishcloths as a present?" And then she paused and said, "Oh yeah, I said no gifts, didn't I?" I just smiled.

So I'm knitting more dishcloths in case I run into any more showers or birthdays where people specify "No gifts."

So last night I was knitting a very lovely white/green/yellow dishcloth. Cute shell pattern. As I was sitting and knitting, I noticed a smell, a very heavy loud smell. It was like Lemon Pledge had been sprayed up my nostrils.

I wondered who had been dusting. I then wondered who had bought Lemon Pledge because I haven't had that in the house for years (we use Swiffer dusters when we actually get around to wiping surfaces that collect dust). The smell would not go away.

So I went downstairs to knit and watch TV. But the smell wouldn't go away. I asked Jim about it. He couldn't smell anything. Matt didn't either. I couldn't understand why they didn't smell it; it was practically visible.

Then I smelled the dishcloth. Bingo! Then I looked at the yarn packaging. Right there on the label was a circle that said, "Scents, Parfums, Olores."

WHY DOES YARN NEED TO BE SCENTED? I understand scented markers (well, no I don't). I understand the idea of the scratch and sniff stickers. But this dishcloth is going to be wiping spaghetti sauce off of dinner plates. It doesn't need to smell like Lemon Pledge! People might think you've dusted your dinnerware rather than washed it.

Anyway, I was glad the mystery was solved because it was bugging me not knowing where that smell was coming from. Here is a picture of the offending article (sans the odor).

shell patterned yellow green white dishcloth with LEMON SCENT

A really long post about shoe shopping

Why? Because I haven't posted about shoes in a long time. 

Hayley has very particular taste in a lot of things, and I found out yesterday that one of those particular things is shoes. Not that I mind her having a very particular taste, and particularly in shoes, but it does make for somewhat of a frustrating shopping trip when her particular tastes don't mesh with mine. (Spoiler alert: it turns out fine in the end). There were lots of knitted brows and sighs and curled lips and grrrrrrrs.

She wanted skater shoes for school and I guess I didn't mind what she had in mind (although secretly I had hoped she'd changed tastes in the nanosecond before we opened the doors to Kohls--the store for which I had a 30% off coupon--to something a little more teenager girly that maybe involved the color light blue or had pink stitching or something other than a black pair of Chucks)(whew, that was a long parenthetical remark. Are you still with me? I could live with her having black DCs with colorful accents because they weren't boys' Chucks) but I wasn't hip-hip-hooray about it. I had the coupon, which I find somewhat ameliorates the discord between her tastes and mine.

But sadly for Hayley, Kohl's did not have DC black skater shoes for girls in stock. You had to order them online. I refused because I didn't want to bother with guessing what size she would be and I didn't want to mess with sending them back if they didn't fit. I suggested that she look at other shoes in the store. She gave me that "I can't believe you just said that to me" look, and I gave right back the look that said, "I'm your mother; don't give me that look." Then I suggested we look at pants and she perked up. (We had come to Kohl's in search of pants too). There we had more luck. Stuff is always on sale at Kohl's and it didn't take more than a few minutes for Hayley to find pants that she liked and that I approved of (It's my money so I get to do the approving) and fit in my budget.

But still, what to do for shoes? (Be glad I skipped over the part where we shopped for underwear--although, I have to mention that Hayley said that thanks to the sewing talents of Grandma Olsen, she never knew underwear could be purchased in a store until she was in her late elementary school years. We had a good laugh and not at Grandma's expense. We love Grandma and her penchant for sewing underwear and giving it as gifts for birthdays. Really. Really really)

I suggested another store that was close by and Hayley said ok. But still no DCs. Because I love shoes, I couldn't help but try several pairs on just for fun. I tried on the biggest platform stilettos I have ever seen. They were sparkly gold and on sale! I felt seven feet tall when I finally managed to hike myself up to the altitude necessary to put them on. I managed a few wobbly steps, much to Hayley's horror. She pleaded with me to take them off because I was hurting her eyes and embarrassing her.

She finally found a pair she liked, and I thought they were too boyish, but since they were gray and not black, I would be ok with it. We looked some more because I wanted to try on more outrageous shoes. She stood, trying not to be appalled at my choices. Then she spotted another pair of shoes that she liked better and that I liked better too.

Happily, we were in agreement and they were $20 cheaper than the gray ones. Then I suggested she look for church shoes. She complains about her one pair of black flats that flop all over the place, so I asked her what kind of shoes she might like. She said not flats. That was news to me because for so long, she didn't want anything with a heel.

There was still the problem of her particularity. No strappy shoes, no pumps, no pointy toes, no really high heels, nothing pink or sparkly or anything with a bow. Really, child, that pretty much leaves us with nothing.

But the heavens did smile upon us that day because I found the cutest pair of gray houndstooth black low heel pumps with a buckle on the front that was just enough Japanese prep school girly for Hayley and just enough normal looking church shoe for me. She likes them very much and I am glad she has something nice to wear to church.

They remind me of the two pairs of shoes Jennie and I had in our dress-up box. One of the pairs was dark green and had a buckle across it kind of like these shoes. Happy memories!

Have I mentioned recently how much I love shoes? I don't think I have. I love shoes. I consider it a travesty (and also a supreme exertion of will power) that I walked out of DSW with only one pair of shoes for me, and they were tennis shoes. Those platform stilettos in gold are calling for me!

Matty Point

Scout camp looks fun. Jim took a few pictures during his short stay at Many Point with Matt, and I wish YW camp when I was a teenager was more like scout camp. In fact, I wish YW camp NOW was more like scout camp.

Matt makes his wilderness survival shelter

He has to sleep in this shelter for one night.

 Granted, I might not want to sleep out in a shelter I made myself unless I was able to make it spider-proof, but I would love to have had to MAKE a shelter at camp. Sticks and I got along pretty well when I was a kid. My mom always said kids don't need toys, all they need are sticks and dirt and they'll have plenty of fun.

Matt gets ready to kayak

I suppose I didn't need scout camp to tool around on a lake in a small paddle-powered watercraft. Julie, Jenni and I went out in mom's canoe on Lake Minnewashta plenty of times so I do feel I fulfilled the "spend time paddling around a body of water" aspect of scouting.

There are more adventures to hear about when Matt gets home on Saturday.

OH and yes, KATE IS ENGAGED! No details beyond there is an actual ring that has been on her actual finger (although at the moment it is getting sized), she has bought Christian's ring, and they are thinking sometime in April in Utah for the wedding, with a reception in MN sometime in early May. I am ramping up to be totally discombobulated at that time. Graduation parties are old hat for me; weddings are far and away more burdensome and I have no idea how to approach preparing for this event. I am very grateful that I will not be having to do both within months of each other.

Scattershot

I don't really have anything to post about, but I feel like sitting at my computer and tapping on keys for a few minutes.

Hayley and I are the only ones home for a few days. Jim took Matt up to scout camp and will be there into next week. So it's just me and my little girl.

Hayley and I went to Mom's to mow her lawn. I came home with peaches. (Dave, if you ever read this blog, know that I have your half box of peaches. You have a week to claim them.) It used to be strange to go Mom's for a visit with my little kids in tow, and Mom without her children. Now I find myself over at her house with very few of my own children. I'm moving toward that phase of life that I thought was strange to see my mother in: the empty nest.

Last night Jim and I went to see The Avengers. As far as movies go, it was fairly predictable, except for when two of the good guys fought each other and left the bad guy to sit by and watch. I thought that was a nice twist. I liked it though because I thought it was funny. Too bad no one else in the theater did. I laughed like a maniac several times, and I felt like I was performing a solo laugh routine. No one else even moved--I could tell because Jim and I sat in the very back and we could see every single person. What a bunch of stiffs.

I can't stop thinking about Boiling Springs. I think one of these evenings, I'm going to drag Jim out there and finish searching along the west branch of the trail.

EJ has asked for pictures of Lemmy. Not pictures of his mother and father who have loved and cared for him for many years, or any of his siblings who have been playmates and buddies, but of a lizard that is barely cognizant of the presence of human beings.

Speaking of Lemmy, I guess I had better feed him. Matt's not here to do it. I hate crickets. They jump in unpredictable directions and heights.

And....I'm done.