a little loopy

A little crochet project, done in strips while stripped

Baby crochet or knitting, that’s what. With another baby on the way in the family, do I make a little toy? A blanket? A lovey? Little bunny booties? Or panda booties? Maybe a hoodie? It’s hot enough now, but that won’t last forever. I have plenty – plenty! – of suitable yarn to choose from. There are patterns galore out there in the world, some with excellent instructions.

I keep yarn in packets, in sturdy zip-seal bags that might have once held a mattress protector or quilt, in plastic tubs, and even occasionally in packets in plastic tubs. Sometimes that’s useful because I can pick up a plastic tub and put it on top of a tall bookshelf (for example) to clear floor space or a bed. Other times it’s an extra layer of effort for which I can’t always muster the requisite energy. Thanks to its so frequently being the choice for amigurumi efforts, most of the cotton yarns are in one container.

Equipment for making pasta and subsequently looping it into little nests is generally Dr B’s domain. He’s been going nuts for a while, testing various new recipes from a northern-Italian website that he follows. All I can say is, it’s a good thing that we’ve done some recent reshuffling and the pasta machine is now much more readily accessible for him.

We’re making lists for this year’s projects. No, not me. I have a list of jobs – and I do mean things around the house that I’m tackling slowly – but I’m not buying into anything that involves electrical work or heavy lifting. Paving for a while? Yeah, I can probably do that. And, if I don’t do it for too long at any one time, my back might not complain too loudly. Keep the workers fed and watered? Definitely within my remit, and that’s a job I long ago sorted into smaller component parts that don’t require too much standing.

Returning to the idea of baby gifts for a little one in an unsettled family situation – moving house! – perhaps that simply needs to be soft and cuddly and portable, with some colour and texture interest. That I can do. Maybe no loops, however, as they can too easily become tangled in little fingers. But popcorn bobbles? They’re winners. No loops at all and nicely smooth on the side you don’t see.

Even if, it must be admitted, crocheting with pure wool in these temperatures is distinctly loopy! BWM baby yarn and BWM sock yarn held together, worked with 4.5mm hook; and worked in strips to keep me cool while I work.

I hope you’re managing to find a comfy spot no matter what your outside temperatures are doing.

 

around we go. again.

Fancy champagne flutes for before-midnight toasting

When YoungB was a good bit younger, he was a keen follower of Warhammer. I’m scratching my head right now because, having got rid of all that, we seem to be right back there. Different armies, he assures me blithely, while he lovingly packs pieces into a foam-lined case. You what? Cajoled and encouraged into this by a newly-found cousin, if you don’t mind. What bad influence family can be!

In the spirit of going around again, I’m also scratching my head as to what I’ve achieved this year. The broad answer is probably not much. I’ve done next to no knitting (an unfinished beanie), sewing (not even lavender bags) or crochet (a few Easter bunny baskets). I started making a beanie for YoungB but, to my great surprise, I wasn’t enjoying either the knitting or the yarn I was using. More head-scratching. Right?

I have read hundreds of books. No, really, I have. My Kindle Unlimited reading insights show that I’ve read 223 e-book titles. That’s not strictly accurate, in the sense that some are multi-volume reads that count as a single title, and others I’ve returned either unread or unfinished. But it’s probably close enough; PLUS the many p-book titles don’t show up in that total. I’ve submitted 47 online reviews, not always for new titles. One or two were retrospective paeans to earlier works whose narrative handling was outstanding, and which I’d revisited prior to reading a new title in the series (for example).

I engaged in a lengthy online discussion with the first-time-author of one new work that I reviewed. The pseudonymous author was upset by my negative criticism because other reviewers were heaping praise upon the work. S/he – the pseudonym was neutral – challenged me to provide “intellectually intelligent” points as to why I’d judged so harshly. Well. I’m old, I studied Latin at school, and almost every job I’ve ever had has relied upon my ability to spell well, know the difference between who and whom, and have a quick enough eye to see and fix typographical and grammatical errors before the presses rolled. I didn’t exactly say, “Come to mamma,” but I responded thoroughly to the first three pages of prologue, outlining many of the errors therein as sufficient reason not to read the rest of the book. I liked the premise of the story, but I couldn’t get to the story because of how badly it was written. My lot laughed but the author was less amused. It’s a risk you take when you put your manuscript out into the world.

Since the piano refurb and tune, I have done LOTS of practice, trying to get back to – well, it is unlikely to be anywhere near my previous proficiency. I’m too stiff. BUT I can certainly continue to improve my skill level. The other night, after having done precisely this, I decided that I should never pull out an old exam piece that is difficult and goes like the wind and half-jokingly try to play it. How did I ever do it? No idea! I could see better in those days, which would have helped somewhat. But, clearly, I played it and well, because I advanced further up the grading system before I switched to concentrating on singing.

Also, let’s not forget, I completed the Bloody Long Walk. I enjoyed the training walks that I shared with my old nursing friend, but the majority of the training was me on my own, out there in the wilderness. Okay. Less of the wilderness, more a variety of suburban parks where I trialled shoes and socks and trekking poles and water bottles and backpacks. And, you know? I haven’t yet found socks that I can rely on (most of them have a tendency to slide down inside my shoes: oh, the horror and oh, the blisters). I bought a new backpack that did the job, but it’s far from ideal. It’s a little too large and has too few pockets. However, it was all I could get at the time to replace my old, thoroughly worn-out options (either the straps or the zips have had it; rarely both). You do what you have to do.

At midnight on the last day of 2023, I did what I had to do: having earlier watched televised fireworks and imbibed celebratory champagne (from our fancy flutes), I sat at the piano and played Auld Lang Syne to my sleeping household 🙂

May you have many opportunities to toast all sorts of things in 2024.

 

did everyone survive the chaos?

Our “lots of history” festive spread

Eldest Aunt came to stay with us for a week. Since COVID, we’re so out of practice with having guests that I took time simply to enjoy preparations: hunting down the right bed linen; fluffing the quilt and cover; finding pillows that provided adequate support; making sure there was a yoga mat propped against the bookshelves, just in case; and borrowing YoungB’s temperature blanket as extra cover, also just in case. The yoga mat wasn’t needed, but the blanket certainly was. What a chilly Christmas!

Table preparation was much more of a team effort, because our kitchen table is everyday mission central. That’s always been where we do our work, synch our calendars, and have a pile of reference books readily to hand. I hope I can remember where I put all those things when life returns to normal.

Finding the lovely bits and pieces of china that haven’t been hauled out for years was also a special treat. Ooh, I’d almost forgotten those vegetable bowls from the old dinner sets, but they’re super for holding bread rolls. Thank goodness I’ve always had dozen-piece cutlery sets. I’ve rarely run out and, back then, it made sense: you’d buy two sets of six, because the cheap crockery came in sets of four. You’ll see where I’m going with those sums. I didn’t have time to clean the silver cutlery, so we used the everyday stainless steel set. Nobody died of shame. I’ll bet nobody noticed.

The Christmas tablecloths are historical items, purchased at local markets when we were living in Italy. They’re starting to show signs of wear, they don’t match and they don’t quite fit the table, but we overlap them and put lots of plates and glasses and food and drinks on them and I’ve never had anyone complain. It’s all part of the festive atmosphere.

We had two last-minute extra guests. No worries. We resorted to that time-honoured tradition of bringing the piano stool out to ensure adequate seating; and, yes, there was still matching cutlery. The wineglasses were a little more mixed, but if you keep the “odd” glasses together, it works. One champagne flute is much like another. Non-matching cup, saucer and plate sets were once a fashionable thing and called harlequin settings. They could be different colours of the same design, or entirely different designs. The non-matching serviettes – but festive, and in similar colors – also met with approval.

In the middle of it all? A phonecall from our banking institution’s fraud department to follow up on what they thought were suspicious transactions. They were right. Card cancelled immediately. Which, of course, did mean a bit of fancy footwork when it came to paying for the car battery that died the following day. Yeah.

Chaos notwithstanding, we sang Christmas carols late into the night. I hope you managed to do that, too 😀

 

parts of my past

It’s still farming country, but now it farms wind, too 🙂

There are places in the world where only those who know them have any idea of their location or, indeed, existence. You either know, or you don’t. IYKYK as they might say these days. For some years of my childhood I lived at such a place. Now, there’s nothing there but a plaque: not commemorating my part in its history, merely a record that it ever existed. I was there recently with YoungB. We came over the hills the back way along what, when I was a child, was little more than a single-vehicle, dry-weather-only track. That didn’t stop us doing a few slippery-mud transits now and then, but generally it was a shortcut best avoided after rains. It didn’t rain often; but when it did, you knew all about it. The long way was, well, longer, but much safer at those times.

Since then, it’s been upgraded and is a two-way, all-weather surfaced track, beautifully maintained because it’s the access road for the local wind farms. It has a proper name now, too. It’s not just the back road to Mannanarie but the Ngadjuri Mail Track. I’m delighted at the acknowledgment of the local Indigenous nation.

If you use satellite view to look at the GPS pin for the track, which is roughly in the middle of its length, you can see the shadows of some of the many turbines. YoungB and I were suitably amazed, because there are few wind farms where you can get very close to the turbines. Here? We felt we were right beneath them. We were quite enchanted. It seems such a sensible thing to harness wind when there’s plenty of it.

I hope you’re finding some enchantment, too.

 

totally out of practice, cough

Flowers in the garden: admire, but don’t cough 🙂

In this case, I mean out of practice at being unwell. YoungB was battling with respiratory problems towards the end of his music theatre gig and I was utterly miserable – and unwell enough for the GP to prescribe some heavy duty medication – for only a few days less. The difficulty, as we both agreed, is that we’ve forgotten how to be ordinarily unwell. COVID? Yep, we mostly know how to behave, and what to expect, if that’s the diagnosis. It wasn’t, for either of us. But your average nasty URTI? Yeah, not so much. We haven’t had any such thing for a l-o-n-g time; and these have been doozies.

YoungB is back at work, but still coughing and sounding as if week in bed would do him the world of good. My head continues to feel as if it’s stuffed with cotton wool and my ears hurt, but I managed to avoid that “can’t make up my mind if I want to throw up or pass out” stage, for which I’m mightily grateful. However, we’ve ventured out to some evening concerts and survived. The trick is to make sure that you Do Not Start Coughing. YoungB and I attended a memorial service for an elderly relative. It had been delayed to await the return of overseas travellers. Given our general unwellness, the delay was a good thing in terms of enabling better recovery.

While talking things family, Youngest Aunt and I have organised a carol-singing session with an older cousin whose mobility is nowadays quite restricted. We’re going to her place, and she has a piano. You won’t be surprised to hear that I’ve been practising Christmas carols till Dr B is probably sick of them! By way of compensation, please note that he is greatly entertained by the blackbird who sits on our back wall and sings along with me.

In the spirit of trying to reclaim the corner of the house where the piano lives, I’ve rehomed not only scores and sheet music but also a few reference books from less accessible bookshelves. There’s dust now and then, which could be problematic but, as before, I Do Not Start Coughing.

We’ll need to sort out Christmas decorations and visitor accommodation before much longer. More dust. More occasions to remember the trick: Do. Not. Start. Coughing!

I hope you’re managing to tackle all your seasonal tasks without coughing!

 

DNA rules, yeah?

Ready and waiting whenever inspiration hits 🙂

Dr B and I sometimes wonder how we failed so utterly to produce a practising musician. YoungB is not unmusical, and could probably pick up flute or guitar again with a degree of ease that a true beginner would not. His own musical tastes lie in edgy genres more challenging than mainstream popular music, meaning that even as merely a listener, he consumes discerningly and is able to provide cogent, thoughtful analytical commentary when relating details of his evening out. That is to say, of course, that he’s been brainwashed encouraged to do that from a very young age.

As far as I’m concerned, roundtable discussions tend to be far more interesting when motorbikes and cars are not part of the subject matter, and we stray deep into musical territory that includes in-depth compositional analysis and troubling questions of cultural appropriation and performance practice. Years ago when I edited and proofed Dr B’s PhD thesis, I cross-checked every analytical matrix for accuracy. I don’t have compositional expertise, so I did it doggedly and thoroughly because that was my job: to ensure that everything was correct and made sense, and that what he’d said in one chapter agreed with what he’d said in any other chapter. The editorial team got a meritorious mention, by the way.

So when I hear YoungB calmly analysing a contemporary music recording sent to us by a friend or, particularly during mad March where he was frequently out at gigs, simply critiquing what he’s heard, and he sounds just like Dr B, then I know we haven’t failed at all. Some would say it’s the result of the brainwashing, but I think it’s obvious that it’s in his DNA. His recent participation in an amateur musical production – and having to step in unexpectedly to cover a solo for a COVID-related absence – has proved that. Getting out there and just doing it is a big part of being a performer.

YoungB’s partner is also a musician; and, not surprisingly, partly responsible for his renewed interest in music-making rather than being solely a discerning consumer. She once asked why he’d stopped singing when his voice broke. I immediately felt guilty! But, in fairness to all of us, he didn’t in any way indicate that he wanted to continue. Had he made a noise about it, I’m sure we’d have found a way to work that into school and rowing commitments. As it is, he’s rediscovering his voice and has had a lot of fun with the musical production in which both of them performed. He’s also joined a smaller group that’s mostly an SATB lineup working on off-Broadway repertoire. Closer to home and more fun.

I think it’s akin to having a pint of Guinness on St Patrick’s Day. Is that brainwashing or DNA? You might argue there’s not much difference 🙂

 

not a blister in sight

Gumming down a protein bar at the start line. Photo courtesy Frank Gervasi

Despite my fear of sleeping through every alarm known to personkind and missing the start of the Bloody Long Walk, I was there in good time. As anticipated, it was chaotic, so Dr B dropped me and left. I collected my bib, cap and water bottle from the registration team, then bumped into an old schoolfriend who was also doing the walk. He’s responsible for the photo, in which I am battling with a protein bar (hence the bulging cheeks). They’re hard work, in my experience, but they certainly provide a good energy boost.

The walk was long. Well, duh. I had lots of short stops, often to top up my water bottle or change the sticking plaster on my problem heel. That’s the one requiring long words to describe its general state of ruin, so it’s best to deal with it on a “prevention rather than cure” basis. I did that about four times along the route, sitting to attend to the task. No blisters; no puffy feet. Despite pain medication, I hurt by the end of the walk BUT I was upright and coherent, as well as still capable of walking to where Dr B had managed to find a carpark. That was relatively nearby, but not close.

The trekking poles? It is true that they provide stability and prevent falls, both of which were helpful in the early stages of the walk where the paved surfaces were sometimes bumpy and irregular. An added bonus that I hadn’t considered is that they help to prevent “sausage fingers”. Dr B was pleased to see me in such good shape, if also a little disappointed that I wasn’t totally wrecked because he thought I hadn’t done enough training! Also? Still jealous because I can bend over and pick things up off the floor.

We stopped at a 24-hour cafe on the way home, so that I could inhale a pie and chips. I reckoned I’d earned that! Think of the kilojoules I’d burned in the (official time of) 8h51m32s it had taken to walk 35Km. I probably could have had two pies!

Next challenge? Continuing to improve my pole technique on local walks, and then tackling the Lavender Federation Trail. Like the Heysen Trail, some of whose route it shares, it’s usually undertaken in stages. Dr B immediately wanted to be involved, but it’s definitely a trail for walkers only. It would be too difficult for him. There are, however, nearby cycling options, so we might be able to work out doing something together for at least parts of it. The Riesling and Rattler Trails spring to mind immediately. They are familiar territory and could be factored into family visits; always a pleasant option.

I hope you, too, have some good long-term goals to tackle. After tinsel time is out of the way, of course 😀

 

care for those feet

I love wobbling! This is at a nearby playground 😀

1-Nov-2023: Edited to include tags that seem to have disappeared.

W-day is nearly here. That’s the BLW, of course, which takes place on Sunday. I have been training but can’t deny that I’m shaking in my well-fitting joggers at the thought of how steep the first parts of it are. There’s no way around that AND route changes mean there are more hills than there were the last time I did it. Dang. I’m slow on hills, but it’s perhaps possible their inclusion was an attempt to make the course more interesting. I’m going with that as the explanation because they surely wouldn’t be nasty enough to add hills simply to make us suffer! Surely?

The weather forecast suggests it will be a pleasant day for walking: cool in the morning with a warm afternoon that will never be scorching hot. I won’t need my cooling collar. I still can’t find socks that work, so I’ll be taking spares and changing them if necessary. And the trekking poles? I’ll take them, but only because the doctor said I should. I don’t find them particularly helpful. In fact, the tips get caught in cracks between paving stones or bits of broken concrete, or sink into unexpected vegetation (take your pick). I know I walk faster without them (I’ve tested that on a familiar route that I frequently use). But safety first. Right?

YoungB’s opening night is on Saturday, which means we won’t be there. And he probably won’t be there to cheer me on Sunday morning, though Dr B will do his bit. I offered to catch public transport home at the end of the day, because it’s perfectly possible at that hour and from the finish location. We’ll see how that goes (yeah; probably not. Right?). Yesterday I walked locally, along a route that included some nearby parks with good fitness equipment. Just the shot for cross-training. It means I’m out in the fresh air and using other muscle groups, so it’s all beneficial.

I hope you’re finding the opportunity to do some wobbling, too 🙂

 

irresistible temptation

It probably would be soft, but that’s not what it says 🙂

Having recently had my piano tuned, adjusted, cleaned and polished – yes, it’s been a while; and, as careful as I am, dust is something it’s difficult to filter completely, so my vacuum cleaner worked overtime in a good cause – I’m now playing for around an hour most days. Generally I practise in the mornings so that Dr B can watch TV in the evenings. It works well and everybody is happy. Dr B is finding my loss of previous expertise quite amusing – I struggle with rudimentary techniques – and tells me that he’s composing a new work for me. Something, he says, that starts simply but becomes increasingly complex. Orright. That’s fine, but I will actually need that committed to paper if I’m to do it justice. Read his mind for that? Yeah, nah. I’ll let you know how that turns out.

Meanwhile, I’m continuing solo short training walks and have managed to do a few longer ones with a friend. She and are incorrigible chatterboxes with a history of overdoing shared walks. We talk as we walk and suddenly it’s 18 Km since we left home! That’s around the maximum recommended long walk for the training program, so I only need to do it a couple more times over the next few weeks and I’ll be in good shape come BLW day. I’m dismayed that this year’s route has more hills than when I last tackled it, as I am not good at hills. Oh, well. They’re mostly in the early part of the day when I should have better energy reserves.

Youngest Aunt came to visit us recently. To honour the newly tuned piano, we had a carol-singing session. It may seem a little early to be brushing off the Christmas music, but the likelihood that we’ll have another chance to practise before Christmas is remote. Therefore, we need to make the most of every opportunity. Long ago and very far away, I prepared a booklet of words to a selection of Christmas songs. Some copies survived and I have them still. I thought the contents would be widely known but Youngest Aunt’s friend was entirely unfamiliar with one for which there’s more than one well-known melody. No need to ask which version to play, in that case. We simply skipped it.

But if I tell you that I saw the instructions on that pictured carol and read it as “Soft” rather than “Solo”, you’ll have a better idea of why I need to keep succumbing to the siren call of that freshly tuned instrument. That is, when I’m not out walking, of course.

Whether your exercise is finger based or foot based, I hope you’re getting as much of it as you want.

 

training walks and injuries

Recommended fall-prevention equipment

I’m making a big effort to train for this year’s Bloody Long Walk. YoungB is less present than hoped – he’s away at rehearsals An Awful Lot – but I don’t really need his assistance or encouragement to work out what I need to do. It’s just nice to have someone else cheering for me! Dr B can no longer accompany me on the longer distances and, as enjoyable as it is to walk around the block with him, it’s social more than physically challenging (for me).

I’ve said in the past that where we live is ideally suited to doing loops that you can finagle to add distance without going far from home. Finding my total a little light on by the time I was almost home, I did that during yesterday’s training walk. It remains a good option. Without venturing too far, I added almost another kilometre to my intended route, ensuring that I covered the calculated increased distance plus a bit.

What I’ll admit to this time around is needing to sit and have a rest every now and then. You do that on the BLW itself, because there are support stops where volunteers hand you drinks – or orange quarters, or both – as part of a wellbeing check, and sometimes you meet up unexpectedly, or by design, with friends or family. But in my previous training walks, I’ve more or less kept on going; pausing if there’s a nearby water fountain where I can top up my bottle without actually stopping to regroup. Now, I’m carrying rather more interim injuries and older, stiffer joints so I can’t just gallop uphill the way I could when I was a kid; or even when I wasn’t a kid but hadn’t broken any bones!

The BLW site sets out some training plans, so I know I’m on the right track. The thing I’m finding most challenging is working out decent cross-training. I could simply do a shorter, faster walk (sometimes I do), but that’s really more of the same and doesn’t generally work different muscles so much as work the same muscles a bit harder than usual. There are lots of beginner yoga or chair weights classes I can do via YouTube. We have a few indoor swimming pools not far away for aquatic options and parks with exercise equipment. So I’m not lacking choice; more, to be fair, enthusiasm.

A return to frankly unfriendly morning temperatures hasn’t helped, with a recent forecast for frost; at this time of year!

Wishing you all the best with all of your training, too, whatever it encompasses.