I cannot believe that Thanksgiving has come and gone. I know I spent hours shopping, days cooking, and there were 10 people here at one point on a Thursday. The dirty dishes alone could have told me that something had occurred.
That leads me to the randomness that has been swooping through my thoughts as the busy days get shorter.
1. My favorite radio station does an unfavorite programming trick every year: start in mid November and play Christmas music for six weeks. It gets old. My second favorite station doesn't always keep me awake on the drive to and from, so I am left with carols and musing.
Some carols just rock the genre. Anything by Burl Ives and Bing Crosby is perfection. Frank Sinatra pegs it also (even though he was a pig). Johnny Mathis doesn't do it for me. I think it is the whiny tenor that knocks him off the list. Brenda Lee, meh. Baby sopranos work only if it is Eartha Kitt doing 'Santa Baby'.
I have to confess to incredible inconsistency in preferences. Mannheim Steamroller does a nice job of electrifying the music in a way that doesn't murder the mood. Dean Martin is good, and almost any pop singer starting with Elvis just plain sucks and is doing it for the money. (There may be a Josh Groban exception here.) You are not obligated to agree with any or all.
I can't hear a Karen Carpenter carol without feeling sadness. Her death (cardiomyopathy from ipecac overuse, among other causes) was premature and preventable. I never really liked her music at the time, but her voice lends sweet purity to the seasonal classics she recorded.
2. SOAR always leaves the spinner with as many questions as answers. Both Robin Russo and Deb Robson clearly stated that fiberistas should NOT store their fiber in plastic bags. Their rationale is that the changes in temperature in a normal house leads to condensation in the bag, and subsequent felting. Storage should be in paper bags or pillow cases.
Tear out my hair. Beat my chest. Angst. Everything I own is in plastic bags, except for a few fleeces. The obvious reason is higher mil plastic to slow down the potential for *m*s. The visibility is helpful also. Am I jeopardizing the health of my fiber IRA? WHAT SHOULD I DO?
The first answer is stop stashing. Ha. Yeah, I've slowed down a LOT. But the backlog needs to be stored. MelissaG raises an excellent question: doesn't felting require a friction factor? There is no friction in quietly sleeping fiber in plastic.
My fiber is stored in a room that allows no direct sunlight. I have seen no condensation during any trip through the stash in any season. Which is more deadly to my stash, *m* or felting in storage? In my work, I am called upon to seek evidence-based data by which decisions are made. Is the felting idea an urban myth we all quote, with no data? Was felting observed in a damp fleece in a plastic bag? (There are no damp fleeces here, only processed ones.) I don't know what I should do, so I have done nothing different.
3. My current mindless knit other than a sock is Terra, by Jared Flood. Shelter is a lovely, squooshy yarn that I purchased during our SOAR field trip to Harrisville Designs in NH. I got gauge, off by maybe 1/8 stitch per inch. I bought five skeins. Not enough. (All of Rav says 4+, maybe 4.5, but that 1/8 stitch is clearly enough to push me over the edge.) Irony will show that I probably will run out just as I need to bind off. I debated eliminating some of the edging. Instead I called Harrisville for a skein in that dyelot. It took them five hours to call me back. *wringing of hands* Success! It is the world's most expensive skein of Shelter (add $4.95 shipping), but it was worth it. (Picture me calculating number of stitches per row as the shawl increases in triangular size. Then picture me adding up all the stitches. Then picture me knitting a defined length of yarn to see how many stitches per foot of yarn I get. Math follows. I am about 14 yards short. And I am being so typically me, it is almost embarrassing to post this. It falls squarely into random, so there you go.)
4. I have begun the Concept2 indoor rowing challenge, for the third time. 100,000 meters between Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve. That is 30 days, or 3,333.33 meters per day. The day after turkey, my foot hurt. I'm icing. Crossing fingers that this is not derailing the best way possible to get into cross-country skiing shape. I'm prepared to row one-legged, even if it takes me twice as long. (My, won't my heart love THAT.) My HDL cholesterol, drawn this month, is 93. I am so proud, and I want to keep it there. Red wine, exercise, and genes rock.
5. December promises more full tilt, flat out busyness. Me and the squirrel, we do the psychic mirroring that brings you this--